#I'VE BEEN STARING AT MY WALL FOR THE PAST 20 MINUTES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

savventeen · 11 months

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you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

#svtsource #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #savv writes #savv fics #in my queue world

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therealhousewifeofharrystyles · 2 months

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Harry's Home

Part IV.

Part I. Part II. Part III.

Pairing: Roommate!Harry/Roommate!Reader; Harry Styles/Curvy Reader

Word Count: ~13k words 😅 it’s been a long time comin’, babes!

🔞TW🔞: Adult Language, ‼️Unprotected Sex‼️, ‼️GRAPHIC SMUT‼️, Rough Sex, ‼️CNC‼️, ‼️Dubious Consent‼️, Daddy!Kink, ‼️Choking‼️, ‼️Degradation/Name-Calling‼️, Breeding!Kink, Spitting, ‼️Slapping‼️, Spanking, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Cum-Swapping, Cum-Fetish, 💕Fluff💕

I typically get home from work before Harry does, and so my current state of rest and relaxation—coincidentally adjacent to the book I’m holding: My Year of Rest and Relaxation—is an occurrence Harry’s used to coming home to by now. I mean, not that he’s coming home to me. He’s just…coming home, and I also happen to be living here. Speaking of which, I’m situated in my bedroom. I've already slipped into my night clothes—thin, loose pajama pants and an oversized crop tee—laying my back against the cushioned headboard of my bed.

Suddenly, my ears perk up. The hum and vibration of the garage door opening and closing pulls my attention away from the novel I’d been engrossed in for the past hour towards my empty door frame. Less than a minute later, a door slams, physically startling me, and my posture straightens as if I’m expecting a scolding. I have no reason to react this way, really. It’s not like I have Daddy Issues or anything…or even like this is something out of the ordinary…

Harry’s home…

That’s all.

But judging by the door slams, Harry’s not all sunshine and rainbows this evening. And that, as well, is not something out of the ordinary. Today is just like any other day. Nothing special. Nothing different. But for some reason, it’s as if I can feel the force of his brooding presence weighing heavily atop my chest from an entire floor away.

I’m staring dumbly at my room’s entrance. Harsh, stomping footsteps alert me of Harry’s wandering after-work routine. Even with my ears plugged, I’d still sense the undying tension between us growing as our distance lessened. My heart is pounding violently in my chest. I make the conscious decision to set my book aside on my nightstand once I realize I’ve read the same sentence 20 times.

“Hey, Bunny?! You upstairs, love?” his voice booms, and my thighs immediately squeeze together at the velvety baritone calling out for me. I’m stuck in place and now a competitive mouth-breather—I could be the final girl in a horror film. Geez, chill out, Y/N. I’ve welcomed him home a million times before, and I’ve never felt this…needy—nay—desperate. My body feels so starved. His footsteps are ascending up the stairs now.

Harry reaches our second floor and releases a deep sigh. “Mmhm?” My reply starts to flow out of me like a moan and I swallow the second half of it down in an attempt to cut it short. It’s for naught as I suck in a harsh breath immediately afterwards, sounding like I’m drowning on land. Oh, God…and I can feel a wet patch soaking through the crotch-seam of my pajamas. My nipples are poking out beyond my thin, lacy, unpadded bra, shamelessly creating peaks through my loose t-shirt. Harry suddenly appears from the depths of the hallway and stands tall at my open door. I’m maneuvering myself so that I’m sitting upright, but then the fabric slowly tugs taut over my chest, clinging to my sensitive nipples and stimulating them even more. My lips part and I can’t help the whimper that comes out of me. It’s audible enough that the man scrunches his forehead and questions my well-being once he hears it. “You alright, Bun’?” he asks, his brow arched with mild concern. I gasp, startled by his abrupt entrance, and my body instinctively recoils. My buxom breasts bounce from the action. The movement is subtle—well, as subtle as a large pair of jiggling tits can be when they’re knocked around by walls of inertia and the force of gravity—and Harry doesn’t miss any of it. His eyes blink down to watch the magic of physics for a moment, and all I can think about is how I hope he can’t see how hard my nipples are through my thin bra and top…

What am I even saying?! Who am I trying to convince? We all know I’d flash him Girls-Gone-Wild-style right now if I had the guts.

He furrows his eyebrows at me from across the dimly-lit room and leans his hip against the door frame, crossing his arms over his front. I’m trying not to become distracted by how well his biceps fill out his dress shirt, or by the way the muscles in his chest dance a little bit every time he folds his arms like that. “Uh-huh.” I moan(again), unable to form a coherent sentence. I’m still on my merry way to the mouth-breather national championships, but at least I’m not wheezing…yet. Am I on the verge of hyperventilation? Who knows. My body only seems to betray me…so stay tuned. Harry’s tongue pokes out of his mouth and he slicks it from side to side to dampen his bottom lip.

“Why ya so jumpy..? Wha’s wrong?” He inquires, his eyes drifting down to my heaving chest again. His eyes flick back up to mine seemingly as soon as he clocks the two little bullets aimed in his direction. His complexion warms, but I’m certain his blush is nothing compared to mine. I swear, if he keeps looking at my tits like that…Gah…Is it getting hotter in here? Shit, didn’t he ask me something? Eh, whatever. Words aren’t even exiting my mouth anymore. Harry’s just standing there, keeping his distance and watching me pant like I’ve just finished the mile-run in gym class (what a nightmare). Judging by the worry in his brow and genuine concern in his voice, I must have given him the impression that I’d just seen a goddamned ghost walk through the wall or something. I almost wish I had that excuse to fall back on right now…But the room falls silent. Each puff of carbon dioxide is released from my mouth like a silent cry for help. So now I’m really playing the part of the out-of-breath chubby girl in gym class. Not exactly the vibe I’m going for right now. Or ever. Never again—AH! I need to say something—anything! I can hear the swoosh of my eyelashes as they cut through the air every time I blink. I’m significantly hyper-aware of my body. What if I swallow the excess spit in my mouth and I start choking?! Oh, God…now I’m worried about that?!

Any explanation or reassurance Harry assumes to receive for my strange behavior is withheld. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even know how to explain myself to him because I’ve let this go on for too long. Seconds pass by in a torturous silence, but the seconds feel like minutes, and one minute feels like an eternity when I’m in the same room as a 6-foot ticking time-bomb who’s one nudge away from exploding into a holy-shit-fit. Crabby Harry doesn’t like to feel ignored. He doesn’t like to repeat himself. And he doesn’t like it when his pretty little roommate is disobedient.

Abandoning his usual, gentle inflection, he amplifies his voice and waves his hands back and forth, seemingly annoyed and now crossing the line over to belligerence. “Hellooo?!” Harry calls out to me. My ears ring at the aggressive tone and I flinch. “What's the matter with you, huh?” Still nothing. Well, I’m saying nothing. Everything is the matter with me. There’s so much wrong. Please help me. Get me out of this fucking room or I’ll scream.

Another empty beat goes by. This is so embarrassing.

Being the ill-tempered and impatient man he is, Harry’s reprimanding escalates, now practically yelling at me like I’ve been a bad girl, “Oi! What kind of bloody game are y’playin’ here?! ‘S not funny, Y/N. I’m over it.” He grits and steps completely into my room now. My personal space has officially been breached. I hold no more power in my safe little bubble anymore. He nods his head once whilst making a lifting gesture with his hand. “C’mon…Sit up and look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he bites out, his voice snappy and demanding.

Hm. Ok, so, it’s safe to say that he is, indeed, not in a good mood—not in the mood to try and be patient while his horny and dumb roommate is devouring him with her eyes and forgetting how to breathe properly, that’s for sure.

His heightened volume and combative language pulls me back to reality. I clear my throat and sit with my legs criss-crossed under me. My shaky hands find solace deep inside my lap, squeezing between the warm thickness of my thighs. The hasty new sitting position causes the crotch seam of my pajama pants to rest tightly against the slit of my pussy. Every time I move my hips or straighten my back, it tugs the thick seam forwards/backwards against my clit, sending waves of teasing pleasure through my lower tummy. But I try to be oblivious to this right now because I really don't need the extra stimulation. I’m already drenched and dying for Harry to pump load after load of cum inside of me—you know, just my typical Friday.

“I’m sorry…I-I’m…just really…super tired…” I fake a yawn. “…Just woke up from a nap.” I croak, lazily rubbing my eye to play it up. What a bold-faced lie—I’m wide fucking awake. My corneas may be stinging, and my thoughts are completely clouded with lust, but I couldn’t fall asleep right now even if I tried. He’d have to choke me out…Ooh…

God…

I tilt my head down, feeling utterly flustered and ashamed of my naughty internal voice. But I’m finally able to direct my rogue train of thought away from the tracks to fucktown, returning my sights to the real-life Harry who’s currently glaring at me. Yeesh…He’s pissed. “So, um…long day?” My voice cracks pathetically. Those are gonna be my famous last words, aren’t they? Harry clenches his jaw before answering me. “Long day—?” He stops himself, scoffs, and runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, Y/N, now that you’ve mentioned it, yes. My day was absolute shit!” His skin is heating up. He aggressively unbuttons his sleeve cuffs and roughly pushes them up to his elbows. Ugh, I love it when he does that.

The cranky version of Harry has been coming out more and more lately, and honestly, seeing him like this makes me melt. He’s so hot when he’s mad…is it wrong to think that? I can’t help it anyway. His pheromones constantly call out for me, relentless to allow me a break from wanting him. From needing him. I should be careful and let him be, but I’m dying to know how much aggression he could take out on me. What would he resort to? Would he bend me over his lap for a controlled punishment? Or would he hold me down while he savagely fucked his rage out? Oh, god, please…please. Harry pops open a few of his shirt buttons, working to cool himself off. I can see more of his skin now—a light dusting of hair, the swallow feathers, the antennas of his butterfly.

“Ran into construction on my way in, had to work through lunch, and I didn’t even get to see you before I left this morning…” He frowns, “...Probably why I’ve been a grump all day…” I chew on my lower lip anxiously and watch as his somber expression slowly lightens a smidge as he stares off into space. “Honestly, I was hoping my Bunny’s gorgeous face would welcome me home tonight…with those darling doe eyes and that smile…I thought she’d make me feel better…” I inhale in preparation to console him, or maybe to defend myself. I don’t even know what I want to say. It doesn’t matter, though, because he cuts me off before I can even think up a sentence. “But I guess y’just wanna be a right-fuckin’-pain’n my ass instead, don’t you, Y/N?” His accent thickens as his temper worsens. Pouting, I flick my eyes down to the stitching on my duvet of which my fingers seem to have been subconsciously fidgeting with since I’d first sat up. My teeth nervously nibble on my lip before whispering one of his words to myself. “Gorgeous…” My voice sounds so soft and meek, and I’m blushing like crazy. The atmosphere feels hot and humid, although it’s a crisp, Oregon October. “Wha—?” Harry takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment as if to collect his thoughts. “—Yes. I think you’re…quite lovely, actually. ‘Always thought that, Bunny.” His rough speech makes him sound so tired. So worn out. I want to make him feel better. There’s still time to do that, isn’t there?

He lifts his head and looks at me, and my breath hitches at the sharp eye contact. Unexpectedly, Harry grunts and kicks my door closed behind him with a splintering slam. My body jolts. “Harry…” I breathe out. If I wasn’t already feeling subby, I surely am now. It’s one thing for him to raise his voice, but he’s never gotten physical before. I’ve never seen this side of Harry...I’m…scared. But I want more... Jesus, I’m tumbling down into a bottomless pit of subspace, aren’t I…?

“You wanna know a secret, Bunny?” He scoffs, squeezing and releasing his hands at his sides. I see his knuckles turn from golden tan to white from the pressure, over and over again, until he looks down at his socked feet and shakes his head with the ghost of a smile on his flushed face. “God, I jus’…I jus’ wanna…” He clenches and unclenches his jaw several times during his pause of silence. His mouth is closed, but I know his teeth are gritted together. His next words are growled at me, and I can just barely process them. “...You’ve had no bloody clue, have you…?” He raises his head to shoot daggers at me and continues, “…No clue how bad I’ve needed…Christ, Y/N…” He’s pacing the floor. “…Fuck, from the moment you walked into that bar, I wanted to claim you. Did you know that?” He stops pacing, squints, and cocks his head at me, his inked arms crossed over his chest again.

Rhetorical questions are confusing(fucking annoying) when the person asking them looks at you like they’re expecting an answer. (like this: 👁️_👁️)

I instinctively avoid eye contact and drop my head down, my shoulders rotating forward defensively. “All this fucking time, Y/N…And now every goddamn second of every day, you taunt me. You hop around like the little fuck-bunny you are, your huge tits practically bouncing out of your bra—” He bites the inside of his cheek and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before clearing his throat and beginning again. “—wearing those tiny little shorts that barely cover that fat, juicy ass…Jesus Christ…all the fucking time, Y/N...” He groans. As he’s describing me, he becomes so infuriated that he needs to stop speaking just to let out an exasperated breath filled with rage and arousal. “...All the fucking time, I’m having to force myself to be good. I have to remind myself that you’re too sensitive…that I can’t…I…” He sighs and combs his fingers through his mane of soft curls. “...I have to be careful around you, y’know? Your existence…just you merely existing ‘round me…you drive me fucking mad…” I gulp and raise my head back up to see he has his back turned to me. His shoulders are heaving as he breathes heavily, and his muscles are clearly tensed beneath his slightly wrinkled button-down. He circles the room slowly, eventually standing before me once again. “You don’t know half the things I’ve wanted to do to you…” His dilated eyes twitch, and he gives me a lopsided grin. “...Except, you do, don’t you, sweetheart?” My mouth dries up like someone’s just pulled the spit drain. “Huh? W-what are you t-talking about?!” I nearly choke on my sorry excuse for denial. I stare at him in disbelief, wishing to God that I had the courage to sass him back. But all of that assertion seems to have gone on vacation.

Harry just shakes his head and grins devilishly. “Don’t be like that…” Bending forward, he huskily goads on, “…I know you want to suck my cock, Y/N.”

My eyes widen and my heart pumps harder in my chest as Harry nears closer to the bed. He’s burning holes into me and I can feel my skin heat up wherever his eyes roam. I’m beginning to scoot up farther toward the headboard in subconscious defense. “Hmm? What's that silly lil’ head of yours thinkin’ bout? Gagging on my dick? Bet that’s it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Bunny?” Though it’s clear in his inflection that his intentions are to get a rise out of me, his predatory stare and steady prowl he leads in my direction tell me otherwise. I’m being hunted. His knees hit the edge of my raised bed with a soft bump. Both of his hands slide down his torso and he rests one on his thigh whilst the other rubs up and down his straining erection. He lifts one knee up onto the bed, gaining in on me. I automatically draw my attention downwards, but regret it instantly because seeing the outline of his thickness makes me moan. The desert that once took over the cavern of my mouth has now been blessed with a river of needy saliva. When I switch back to Harry’s face, I’ve already been caught ogling. So much for denial, Y/N.

Harry chuckles boyishly—the same playful chuckle I’ll hear when I send him a meme or a TikTok from across the room or down the hall. It’s much more menacing hearing it now within this context. “D’you want Daddy to fuck your mouth, Princess?” He jeers, tilting his head. Scoffing, I stare up at him wide-eyed. In the low corners of my vision, my breasts rise and fall with every labored breath. I can hear myself almost gasping for air. I swallow the rest of my shock down and shake my head gently—I refuse to answer his filthy question aloud. He exhales bitterly, visibly irritated. “Hm. I knew you were just a fucking tease.” He says gruffly before giving his hard-on one more squeeze over his slacks. He shakes his head at me in what I perceive as disappointment, then leans forward on the bed, holding himself up by his palms. The ever-increasing closeness to this man intoxicates me. His aggression is further spiraling me into the permanence of that special space of mine. I can feel myself pouting my lips with my head bowed as if I’m being disciplined by, well…you know who.

(And, no. Not Voldemort.)

I don’t wanna say the D-word. Harry just used the term to try and embarrass me. To shame me. Fuck you, Harry. As I’ve confessed previously—I basically thrive off of his attention—and this right now, of course, is still fueling me deliciously. Although, I don’t quite enjoy how he’s accusing me of being a tease. He’s just being an asshole. Hmph…I am not a tease. I’ve got a bite, Styles. Just come a little closer, and I’ll prove it.

I don’t even realize that I’ve begun to glare at him until his voice takes me away from my raging thoughts. He lowers his timbre and slowly shakes his head once more, “Quit givin’ me that look, Bunny…Y’bout to start somethin’, aren’t ya?” He nods his chin at me. I nervously shrink into my bed, absent-mindedly squishing my tits together with my arms and furrowing my eyebrows like I’m about to reluctantly agree. But before I totally fold into the compliant little toy he wants me to be, I decide to change gears at the last second. Straightening up onto my knees and crawling towards him, I close in on him near the edge of the mattress, backing him up, my eyes narrowed and defiant as they meet with those of the audacious man leaning onto my bed. “So what if I do, Harry?” I surprise myself with how tough and bratty I sound. Harry only ‘tsk’s at my attempt at defending myself. Narrowing his eyes, he leans farther over the bed so that he’s almost touching my nose with his. He’s so close to me now, and I'm worried the pounding drumbeat of my heart is blowing my cover. But I refuse to surrender to his piercing gaze or cower away from him in fear. That’s what he wants me to do. He wants me to give him that power. But I won’t—not without a fight. Not without a struggle…Just a little bit…

I close my eyes for a moment and breathe deeply through my nose. The spicy notes of his signature cologne are making me salivate. Sure, I’ve caught whiffs of it once in a while during our hugs or in passing, but the scent communicates with me differently at this moment. Masculine. Woodsy. Clean. Like taking a gulp of spiked apple cider next to a bonfire on a cool fall evening, surrounded by giant pine trees. I’m addicted to the inhale. An intense desperation for more grows in the pit of my stomach as I continue to suck in the breaths of Harry. I never want the remnants of him to leave my lungs. It’s strange how something as simple as a fragrance has given me such primal desires. When I open my eyes again, I’m immediately drawn down to his lips. God…have they always been this pink and smooth? Harry must know I’m staring because he wets his mouth with his tongue before a clever smirk stretches across it. I bet he thinks I’m going to surrender. But I coax my attention away from his distracting features before I lose any more of my self-control. I can pull myself out of this, I know I can. I just need to channel my energy into something else other than lust. I focus towards the path of furiousness. The oath of silence I'd previously been taking is no longer an option for me as all I see are flames. Harry makes me so fucking mad. He comes home, slams doors, makes me feel vulnerable even in the safety of my own bedroom…degrades me, slams another fucking door…MY door. Calls me a fucking tease while he grabs his dick right in front of me?!

Alright—That’s it. No more playing nice. Go hard or go home, Y/N.

I straighten my posture, arching my back and subtly pushing my breasts out towards him, then relax, putting on my best poker face. “Go ahead, Harry…” I lure him, my voice all but a breathy coo. “…Take it out on me…” His eyebrow quirks up, but I know from the darkness in his eyes and the slight flare to his nostrils that he’s not amused by my sudden audacity. I continue, purring, “…Unless you’re too scared you’ll hurt me—” In a split second, his strong hand roughly wraps itself around my neck and I’m shoved backwards onto my duvet. He’s squeezing the sides of my throat and forcing his whole weight on top of me, pinning me down and blocking air. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Harry inches closer until our lips barely brush together by a hair's width. “Fucking brat,” he practically spits. I struggle to swallow the hard lump in my throat. My body is stuck, painfully held down, yet I’m still desperately squirming to arch myself up against him for even the smallest bit of friction. I’m clenching my inner walls over and over again as if lazy kegels will soothe my itch. I’m essentially drooling out of both ends. I’m now realizing this isn’t a fucked up little game between housemates anymore. The line has finally been crossed.

Harry’s eyes drift down to my rosy lips and back up again. His nose nudges against mine. He knows exactly what I want and he’s taunting me…holding himself right in front of my face as I lay here, my eyesight blurring. “There’s no turning back now.” He seethes. He smiles darkly at my helplessness, then feathers his lips over the flushed skin of my cheek. His soft kisses press along the length of my jaw before he speaks again. “Just like how I can’t take back all those times I’ve wanked off listenin’ to your pretty moans from my room…” His words trail off against my goosebump-ridden neck. “...Inn’ that right, baby?” “Mmmhh.” I whimper in agreement, the noise vibrating from my larynx and into his large palm. Our shared heat is suffocatingly erotic. The air I breathe is damp and thick, but I can only see to basking in this paradise for all of eternity. I’m still panting under him with my arms lying dead at my sides, my fingernails biting into the heels of my hands. I feel like Harry’s peering into my subconscious with how intensely his pitted irises concentrate upon mine. I’m losing it. My sanity is at stake. I think I’m just in shock over the reality of the situation—the fact that this is all real. And if it is real, then Harry needs to get fucking going, otherwise I will scream until my stupid lungs give out. All I want at this moment is to have him on my tongue. To know what Harry tastes like. I can barely hear myself when I say it. I swallow dryly, his fingers pressed tightly against the delicate skin protecting the shift of muscles in my neck. A spark of audacity jolts through my lungs and I serve the ball back into his court.

“Kiss me.” Like a baby’s breath—that’s how gentle it is. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. What a silly thing to ask. He probably didn’t even hear me—

—Never you doubt these ears of mine, either…I can assure you, I hear everything.

The edge of Harry’s mouth quirks up and he presses his cheek against mine, breathing into my ear, “I hope you realize what you’re requesting…” He pauses to nibble my earlobe for a moment. “Because once I get a taste of you, I’ll never stop.” My breath hitches and I can’t help it as my hips jolt up for contact with his. He snickers. “Mmm, such a horny little thing.” Less than a second later, his lips collide with mine and I hum, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Our tongues meet briefly before our lips meet again in a desperate, yet rhythmic dance. I could get used to him turning my thoughts off this way.

After locking lips with a few guys, I stopped believing in that ‘spark,’ or the magical leg-pop thing from The Princess Diaries. I came to accept the reality behind kissing as it truly was: lips touching lips…And that was it. But kissing Harry isn’t like that at all. The affection feels genuine—I can feel him lament every sleepless night he’s spent praying that one day I’ll be his as his mouth massages mine. The unfettered desire we swirl against each other’s tongues is an atomic aphrodisiac. Every erogenous zone in my body is pulsating, and I seriously think I might come from this alone. But amidst all the lust, I’m encompassed by love. Each of my favorite cinematic movie kisses flash behind my eyelids as mine and Harry’s lips continue to lap tenderly.

His fingers tighten for just a pulse on my throat as if to remind me that he’s in control. I’m suddenly reminded of how much Harry prefers everything to go his way, and his way only. I know Harry prefers a challenge, so I’ll give it to him. A burst of confidence surges through my veins and I gently latch onto his bottom lip with my teeth. It’s then carefully released with a wet snap. A growl erupts from Harry’s chest, I can feel it just barely thumping against mine. I lift my tits up until I’m flush against his strong torso so our hearts can beat in sync. He drags his lips down my cheek and sucks on the side of my neck whilst the hand not grasping at my throat begins to explore. He starts at my shoulder, sliding down my collarbone, stopping briefly to fondle my breast, then continuing farther until he meets the elastic waistband of my pajama pants, dipping inside and circling behind me to grab my ass over my underwear. He presses our clothed sexes together and grinds into me. Fuck, it’s hot knowing I’m not the only one who’s wet.

I wiggle and squirm beneath him, essentially rubbing myself harder against his solid cock as a result. He groans and pushes his hips, hard, into mine before grinding them in random circular motions. “Ohh, fuck…s-stop it…” I plead, unconvincingly. It feels so fucking good. Why should I make this easy for him? I may have a high sex-drive, but I don’t put-out just for the hell of it. I mean, I guess it’s a little bit different when Harry’s the one trying to get in my pants…I’ve wanted this for so long. “N-no…Harry, stop!” I whine, pretending to protest against his touch. Harry’s face retreats from his attack on my neck to grin at me. “What are you doing?” He chuckles. His hand moves up to my hip, softly squeezing onto my bare, squishy love-handle from under my thin clothing. I shake my head and blink. Ugh, who am I kidding here? I want this. I need this. I’m just holding myself back from the blissful inevitable. I have to let go of my pride…I need to tell Harry that I want him to—“Fuck me.” I blurt out. His eyes widen, and I choose to repeat myself with a little more urging in my voice to emphasize my growing impatience. “Fuck me, Harry.” He lets out a bitter laugh, scoffing at my forwardness and tilts his head slightly. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you?” He asks patronizingly, and I nod. But it seems as though that wasn’t the response he was looking for, as Harry immediately reprimands me for my non-verbal confirmation. He blatantly slaps me across my face. The sharp sting has made me gasp. However, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by my anguish in the slightest. He takes pleasure in it. “Try again…What do you say?” A beat passes without a response from me. He slaps me again, “Say it!” I turn my head to face the wall for a moment. Huh? What do I say…? What should I say?! Please…? I don't know! What is he talking about?!

Harry’s now run out of all self-restraint. “You fucking bitch…,” he mumbles, the grip of his fingers sliding up from my throat to my cheeks, squeezing my jaw, then jerking and pointing my face directly to him. “Say it…Tell me who you want to fuck you.” He demands with more assertion. My vision slowly returns to its full clarity. And just as fast as the sharp colors that flood back into the world around me, the narcissistic asshole’s indirect request hits me like a motherfucking double-decker bus. If I wasn’t being watched so closely by Harry at the moment, I’d have the evilest, shit-eating grin on my face. “P-please, Daddy…” I grovel. “Please, fuck me.” Harry instantly smiles at the title I honor him with.

Of course he wants me to call him ‘Daddy’—the exact thing he’d used against me just a few minutes ago to try and make me feel insecure. What a prick. Typically, I’d roll my fucking eyes at his outright arrogance, but I’m far too distracted to care. My current condition holds no room for petty judgment to ruin this moment. I really just want Harry—Daddy—to fuck me.

“Mmm, that’s my girl, Bunny…I love when you’re good f’me, sweetheart.” The soothing hush of his voice combined with the mess of hot kisses he leaves down my face, smearing from my lips to the side of my neck, have released a new wave of liquid heat to pool out into my panties. I return to being choked again, but his affections don’t cease. He’s groaning and panting and lapping mercilessly at my skin—it’s as though he’s indulging in his special treat after a hard day’s work. Harry finds a particularly sensitive spot with the pressure of his lips and tongue, my loud gasp making it obvious. As he sucks a mark onto my skin there, I moan out and grab his chocolate locks to have something to hold onto. My neck is released from his chokehold. A fresh gust of air makes contact with my skin there and it sends a little shiver down my shoulders.

Both of his hands move down to grope at my chest, thumbing at my nipples over my thin shirt and bra. His delicate attention to my sensitive breasts forces me to vocalize my satisfaction. “Ohhhh!” Seeing the way his big hands can’t even encompass them completely is insanely hot for the both of us. “Goddamnit, I’ve wanted to touch these for so fucking long, Y/N.” Once he’s decided he’s teased himself enough, he lifts my shirt, shoving it up past the swells of my tits. My thin, lacy undergarment is practically begging to be discarded, and the stars must be on Harry’s side because the bra clasps together in the front. This revelation absolutely thrills him. He unfastens the center clip, beaming with lust as my tits are set free in a bouncy display before him. “Mmhh, my Godddd…look at you.” His lips and tongue immediately latch onto me—squishing both breasts with his hands and alternating between them with his mouth, licking sloppy wet trails around my areolas, his tongue swirling its way to the center and flicking the nubs until I whine for more. He then resorts to sucking on each of the budded nipples, playing with the opposite one with the damp pad of his thumb in tandem. He then gratefully cups my tits and groans as he buries his face between them. He does it all hungrily, moaning against my skin and relishing in my body’s feel and taste.

His needy technique delights me. It feels as if he’s taking his time to savor and memorize every detail of me with his slick tongue. I lay my head back and allow myself to bask in the pleasure, becoming entranced under Harry’s spell as his famished mouth kisses and sucks on my sensitive nipples. I comb my fingers through his loose curls and caress his stubbly cheeks with my gentle embrace. My clit is throbbing to experience direct stimulation from this man—swollen and jealous of my breasts which have received so much of his eager attention. His hands wander, grasping at the natural dip of my waist and sliding down to the band of my pajama pants at my hips. They linger for a bit, ghosting across the delicate, striped skin there. I twitch. My stomach clenches.

Please don’t…

Harry’s eyes meet mine and I’m biting my lip, fighting back my giggles. He smirks knowingly at me. “No, Harry.” I state with a waveringly warning tone. His fingers move just a hair, and my body tenses again. Without another beat, Harry tickles my sides furiously, making me shriek and laugh uncontrollably as his hands attack my sides. This seems to amuse him greatly as he refuses to pull back for another solid 10 seconds or so. Eventually, his tormenting concludes and I’m left with breathless titters. At this point, he confesses, “Ugh, your laugh makes me hard…feel what you do to me, Bunny.” He gently takes my hand and presses it against the front of his pants. I wrap my hand around him as best as I’m able to and stroke him a few times until he denies me of any more groping. We are both aching for that skin-on-skin contact that dry humping feels painfully futile. Harry resumes undressing me and manages to rid my wiggling legs from their modesty. All that remains to shield my lower half is a dainty pair of pink panties. I reach down and adjust them, smoothing the waistband across my thumbs and letting the elastic snap up high on my hips. Fuck yesss! I internally cheer. Past-Y/N thankfully chose hot-girl underwear this morning instead of granny panties! Harry is too distracted burying himself in my tits to notice, but in due time…soon Daddy will appreciate his Bunny’s adorable lil’ undies.

The dark melody of his voice tugs me back down to Earth—back to the feral man below me who has become addicted to the taste of my flesh. “Tell me…” He breathes out in between licks and bouts of suction. “...Tell me how hard you want Daddy to fuck you, baby.” I let out a whimper, feeling the dripping walls of velvet between my thighs pulse and squeeze around nothing. My response is delayed due to my fucked-out mind shutting out my thoughts. “However you’ll take me, Daddy.” I purr mindlessly. Harry’s hold on my throat returns without warning, and I blink rapidly as my tits jiggle from the abrupt movement. I barely dip back into reality, just enough to notice the way his hard rings are bruising my skin. His other hand travels south. He tickles across the peach fuzz on my tummy and I helplessly giggle out loud at the sensation.

“Yeah? Whatever I want?” He flashes his signature boyish smirk up at me, his eyes providing me with the most familiar yet intimate flash of ethereal green I’ve seen today, before resuming his descent for my sodden center. His fingers finally reach my clenched thighs. And clenched they are. He grunts, growing aggressively impatient once more, as he sponges sloppy kisses along my jawbone. “Open.” The word barely a mumble humming into my skin. “Open up f’me, love.” I whine and rub my thighs together. “Mm-mm…” I’m pathetically desperate for the slightest amount of friction against my clit, so thankful at this time that my thighs are as plush as they are. “Quit y’whinin’.” He mumbles against my cheek. His palm smacks the exposed skin of my outer thigh, and Harry pulls back to watch as my flesh jiggles from the sudden contact. The sight seems to arouse him. “Fuck…” As if out of raw, sexual instinct, he grabs at me there—pulling me and tilting my body so that he can see more of my backside—and then he releases his hand before sending it back down to slap the side of my ass, rubbing and squeezing onto it in admiration afterwards. “…This ass…fuck…fucking perfect, you know tha’...?” He lays me back down and grabs ahold of the front of my pillowy thigh with his hand, trying to gently separate it from its twin. “…Spread your sweet thighs f’me and I’ll make it feel better, baby...” He assures, giving me all the sugar in his voice just before he continues with a darker tone directly into my ear, raking his teeth down my neck. “...I promise I’ll make it all better.”

Our lust-shrouded eyes then lock onto one another. I choose to obey and shakily open myself up to him. He groans at his new view: A scrap of thin, baby pink cotton protecting my most sensitive bits. The pastel is flawless except for one large damp spot near my center. I was right—I’ve soaked right through. If it were any other situation, I’d try my best to retreat and hide myself away in shame. This isn’t one of those situations. Nay. I need Harry to see how miserable I am without his cock inside me. I need him to see the power he has over my pussy. His determined fingertips slide down to the dainty fabric to perform slow, vertical swipes across my entire slit. They press and rub—up and down…up…and down…until he’s got me humming and cooing from his touch, and eventually bucking my hips as well, at which he stills immediately. His calloused fingers rest firmly against the dampest spot on my underwear. I can feel him threatening to push his digits deeper—to disregard the flimsy, cloth barrier altogether and just plunge in. I can’t help but to squirm and mewl beneath him. I want more, more, more, so fucking badly. It all feels torturous now. Every move he makes turns my dial to the direction of mindless submission.

“I…I want you to use me now, Harry...p-please.” I whimper meekly. “Please just—” A hot gust of air quickly exits his flared nostrils. His touch parts away from my center for just

a second in order to deliver a rough spank against the moist cotton. I flinch and squeak at the abrupt punishment, my knees instinctively closing in. Harry puts a stop to them as if he’d been expecting this kind of response and splays me wide open, shoving himself between my thighs to hold me in position. “—What did I just fucking tell you?” “Mnnhh!” I whine, dragging it to emphasize my restlessness and to enunciate my desperate excitement for him. “No, none o’tha’. Be a good girl ‘n use your words.” I huff out in defiance and squirm under him, trying to pull him down to me by clutching his shirt. I can’t help that I’m throbbing and impatient. But he doesn’t find my uncooperation to be very warranted. Harry wants to tame me, not enable me.

Well, boo. 😣

“Fine. Be a brat. But brats get less privileges.” He leans back and unbuckles his belt, yanking it out of his pants and snatching my wrists. The leather tightens around them and my arms are pinned above my head. “Do not touch me unless I tell you to. Understand?” His voice has returned to its demanding inflection once more. I slowly nod. Instantly, he hits my cheek with an open hand, and I gasp at the growing sting. The slap was harder this time. That same hand then caresses my sore skin gently and he hums to try and comfort me. He softly kisses my cheek and speaks against it. “Your pretty face is getting all red, baby. You’ve gotta listen t’me, alright?” I sniffle, trying not to cry, and I bow my head, gathering the strength to apologize right afterwards. “Mm, Daddy…I-I’m sorry.” He smiles down at me once I find the courage to lift my chin and face him again. It’s contagious, and I mirror him without hesitation. “Oh, my sweet girl. You’re so beautiful, y’know tha’? So perfect…Hm, almost…” He sighs, smoothing his hand through my hair. “…All you need is my cock inside you.” I instantly moan, and I nod repeatedly at his last statement. “Mmhh, I want it so bad.” I whisper. He stops and chuckles bitterly. “Oh, I know, Bunny. You’re a needy little slut for me. Trust me. I know. But guess what? I’ll fuck you whenever I want. It’s not up to you.”

Ope…Mean Harry is back.

“Oh, I-I didn’t mean to upset you—” I frown when he laughs and interrupts me. “—That’s a fucking lie.” He punctuates with a rough thrust against my damp panties, staying pressed to me for a few seconds and panting. He pulls back to snarl at me. “You love it when I’m angry. I bet that’s exactly what you think about when you’re in here stuffing your fingers inside your dripping cunt.” He adds effect by giving my sodden pussy another quick spank. I gasp and blink at him, shocked. I mean…he’s not wrong. “I knew it…you want to be thrown around like the whore you are. You like it rough.” I whine, lifting my leg up and trying to hook it around Harry so I can pull him down to me. I need to feel him. But he catches my knee and pushes it up so it’s bent up to my chest, really pinning me down. “Are you truly as brainless as you look?” I shake my head at him as my face turns sullen. “You’re jus’ a stupid lil’ slut, aren’t you, Bunny…” He’s not asking, and I know that. And yet I still shake my head to deny his accusation anyway. My naivety amuses him. He reaches out and pinches my cheek. “You’re so cute and dumb. But I’m sure y’think you’ve got the beauty and the brains, hm?” He laughs and taps his index finger against my temple to illustrate. I bat my wispy lashes and sulk. “But you don't…jus’a stupid, cock-hungry bimbo.” He chuckles. “You do a terrible job at keeping quiet, ‘Bun…S’pitiful, really, how desperate you are to get fucked.” His hands wander down my body again, this time with a harsher touch. I just lay silently and take everything he gives me. “Thought I’d never say a fucking word, didn’t you?” With both hands, he pinches my nipples and pulls until my mouth opens with a gasp. He then lowers his head down and sucks onto my tongue. I moan, pushing myself upwards to try and get more of him. But he shoves me back down by my shoulders and grunts. “Can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t say anything when you go fucking yourself silly with those cute little toys you hide in your drawer…” He sits up on his knees and unbuttons the rest of his shirt, then unzips his pants, pushing them down far enough so that his erection is no longer strained by his tight trousers. The material of his boxer briefs has a wet patch near his tip and my nails dig into the belt wrapped around my wrists. He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and grips his length with one of his aggressive hands. “…While I’m right next door jerking this big, hard cock as you make a goddamn mess of yourself in here…” I moan at the sight of him—his bare abdomen now exposed as his dress shirt hangs on his shoulders, rolled up at the elbows. He traps me in with his hands cradling my head, then pulls down at my chin with his thumbs to signal for me to open my mouth. “…With my name on your tongue…” He spits and lets the saliva drip down into my mouth. Once it lands, he clutches my face with one hand and whispers, “Swallow.” I do as he says. “Mm, good girl.”

“And what’s with you bein’ so quiet today, huh? I’m used to you always runnin’ this mouth. I should start putting it to better use, hm? Shut you up by fucking your throat and jus’ come all over your pathetic face. Would that teach you?” My heart is pounding relentlessly in my ears. My lips separate in an attempt to release some sort of verbal response. It’s no use, though. I’m frozen and speechless. He sees my gaped mouth as an opportunity to shove two of his long fingers inside. I instinctively purr at finally having my oral fixation satiated, closing my lips and suckling. His skin tastes faintly of my own essence, but also of him. He’s literally got me wrapped around his fucking fingers. But I can’t say I’m mad about it. My body is shaking with anticipation. I need him. “Such a spoiled brat, y’know tha’? I’m bein’ much too nice to you…” He slaps my cheek with his other hand. “…I don’t think you even deserve my cum. But you’re just a pretentious little princess who's got empty holes needing to be filled.” My sight has gotten all watery and blurry. I’ve never been spoken to like this before. He pouts mockingly. “You poor baby…You’ve never been properly fucked, have you? Basically a virgin.” He groans out at his own revelation. “God…probably so tight…I’m gonna fucking ruin this cunt, baby.” I suck his fingers deeper, slurping on them while drool leaks out and I gaze wantonly at Harry. “Aw, look at you…sucking on me for dear life…I love seeing how badly you need it…” My eyes roll back at his insults. “What would our friends say if they saw you like this, hm? I wonder if they know how much of a filthy whore you are…how much you’ve begged for my cock to fill you…‘Should be ashamed of yourself, Bunny.”

“Mmhh…” I wordlessly hum against his hand.

He pulls his wet digits down—smearing my lower lip and chin with my spit.

Harry smirks at my glassy-eyed stare. “…Mm, you love this, don’t you? You love it when I’m mean.” I swallow some of the excess saliva on my tongue and lay my head back, closing my eyes. And he says I’m the tease…Fuck, I wanna see that cock already. I wanna FEEL it, goddamnit!

“Please, Daddy…I want you.” I whimper, feeling my throat ache as if I’m close to starting the waterworks just to get some dick around here. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. I know.” He stamps light kisses down my neck. The lips that graze across my hypersensitive skin linger. Harry inhales deeply through his nose, nuzzling his face into a pile of my long ringlets. Lowering his pitch to a soft whisper, he professes, “You’ve always had me, Bunny. And you’ll always be mine.” My lashes flutter as a wave of goosebumps trickles down my back and I struggle holding in a sob at his confession. I hum, nudging my face against his for his attention. He peers up at me with those lively green eyes now, as just Harry, and I tentatively lower my arms—still bound by his belt—downwards until my wrists are behind his neck. Before I even have the forethought of taking the lead, his lips are covering mine. The warmth this kiss exudes isn’t just physical. It’s a kiss that serenades three words into my heart without making a single sound. We’ve made a silent understanding of who we are—who we will be—he and I.

Because this is mine and Harry’s house…and Harry’s finally home.

Our lips release slowly, our shallow breaths mixing together as we stare at one another in silent adoration. Harry nuzzles my nose with his and mumbles for me, “Y/N?” Don’t get me wrong, I love his little nicknames for me. But hearing the drawl of his voice as he says my name…it hits different, y’know? “Yeah?” I rasp, swallowing the croakiness in my throat. He removes my arms from around his neck and begins unbuckling the belt. My brows pull together as I’m watching my wrists find freedom. “W-why—?” Harry interrupts me before I finish my question. “—I want you to be able to touch me, sweetheart.” The affirmation comes out whilst he kisses the faint marks where the belt bit into my delicate skin. I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh…” Then Harry finishes his statement that I didn’t realize needed to be finished. “Because… unless you push me off right now, I won’t stop fucking you until you make me a real daddy.” I lay beneath him with my mouth agape, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed…and there go the lazy kegels again. He wants to breed me.

Both of our mothers are gonna be pissed if he doesn’t put a ring on my finger first…but there’s no way in hell I’m pushing him off of me. I’d never push him off. Of course I want this. Does he want this?

“A-are you s—” “—I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life, Y/N.”

Either I’m an impossibly slow talker, or he’s incredibly impatient. Stop fucking interrupting me…also, why are we still tALKING?!

I blink at him and try to suppress my smile. My hands slip their way up his smooth chest and brush up through his perfectly disheveled hair. I’m marveling at how my gentle fingers cause his body to shudder and arch into me. I watch him as he’s breathing heavily above me, eyes hooded, mouth parted, and I glance down at his underwear and see that the wet spot is twice its previous size. Not to mention, the throbbing appendage kept inside is visibly twitching and jerking in its confines. I know I shouldn’t taunt the man, but my hands are busy…

“Awe, Daddy, you’re so hard for me, you’re almost as wet as I am.” I giggle. Harry’s eyes snap open and his brows ruffle with a furocity I suddenly recognize as dangerous territory. It seems I haven’t learned my lesson after the first time I poked the bear. My fingers halt their massaging. “Uh-oh.” I gulp. Sliding my hands down his neck and resting them on his shoulders, I await my scolding. With visible agitation, Harry grits, “Uh-oh is right, Bunny…Now flip over.” I hesitate, giving him a pleading look.

Was he serious about that being my last opportunity to tap out of this?

“Now!” I gasp and struggle to turn onto my stomach as he looms over me, caging me in with his arms. But I manage to wiggle around and awkwardly fall onto my front. My hair tickles my face. What now? Ouch, my boobs…ugh…my shirt is all twisted around my arms and back. Goddamnit. Harry laughs at me and my obvious discomfort, then carefully sweeps all my hair away from my face and neck. I sigh, turning my head to peek up at him expectantly. Holding my hair in his fist, he leans down—pressing his clothed erection into my ass. “Lemme ask you something, did you honestly think you were gonna slow me down with that silly resisting act earlier, hm? Sayin’ ‘No, please, stop, Harry,’ ” he mocks, using an exaggerated high-pitched voice to rudely impersonate me. “As if you’re not frothing at the mouth for my cock…” Laughing cruelly, he roughly yanks me up onto my hands and knees and forces my back to arch by pulling my head back by my hair. With his free hand, he grabs and gropes at my panty-clad ass. I can feel it jiggle as he plays around with it. “...My God, you’re a terrible liar. You only made me want you more.” I clench my inner walls, fighting against the wave of hot arousal drizzling out from my pussy lips, further drenching the crotch of my panties.

As I squeeze the plush of my thighs closed to remedy my achy clit, I’m hit with a sharp pain on my right buttcheek. I wail out in shock as another slap comes down hard onto the left shortly afterwards, the cool air of the room stinging my burning skin. “Such a bad bunny…pretending to deny me what’s rightfully mine…” Another lash, this time on my outer thigh. He wraps the length of my hair around his fist and pulls until my back touches his chest. The bottom hem of my baggy t-shirt slowly slips down and falls to cover my naked breasts, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. He bites my ear and gropes me harshly over the fabric. His fingers pinch and rub one of my nipples through the rough cotton, coaxing a loud mewl out of me. “Mmmmmhhheeeee!” I squirm and writhe, but that just angers the man. “…Let me get this through your silly little-girl brain, all right?” I nod my head. “Please, tell me, Daddy.”

He’s silent for a beat.

I think consistently obeying him caught him off-guard this time. My mouth twitches and I force my smirk down with a bite to my lower lip. Sensing him expecting it, I carefully begin rotating my head to steal a glance at Harry. His tight grasp on my hair allows for me to do so, of which when I finally do make eye-contact, he closes in from the side and gives me a heated kiss, holding my face between his thumb and forefinger. When he releases my lips, he still keeps me in place with that hand and stares closely into my eyes whilst declaring, “I own you.” I gaze back unblinkingly, losing my ability to function the more I allow his engorged pupils to dilate. Just as my corneas burn and I tear up, he kisses me again and drops me back onto my hands and knees. Blinking my dazed eyes brings me back to reality—reminds me that I need to arch my back and present my ass for Harry.

Both hands grasp at my ass now. And both seem to have a plan as they slowly slide up and down my curves, shoving my t-shirt up my back and gently squeezing every part of me that’s squishable. “How dare you attempt to refuse me—to not consent to me—as if you have a bloody fucking choice…?!” His voice booms throughout the room and he snatches my hair once again. “...How…” *Slap!* *Yelp!* “...Fucking…” *Slap!* *Squeal!* “...Dare you…” *Slap, slap, slap, slap!* A gasp escapes my throat and I squeak at the man. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry!” My bottom lip quivers and my image blurs with hot tears. Fuck. The reddening flesh of my ass and thighs is then unexpectedly met with gentle caresses and the slippery, wet mouth of my disciplinarian. He lets my hair fall down my back in loose curls and I shakily lift my upper half up by my weak arms to see what Harry’s up to. He’s covering my inflamed backside with healing licks and kisses. If the air didn’t sting so badly when his cooling spit was exposed to it, I’d find this to be comforting. However, I’m still very much feeling my punishment.

That’s not to say I didn’t like it…

His nimble fingers slip under the waistband of my pink panties, pulling them down whilst kissing down my raw skin and cooing. I suck in a breath as the fabric is finally removed from my slit. I don’t even care at this point, but I do feel a tad bit prouder knowing that I’d used up a waxing coupon and got the whole shebang just a couple days ago. I’m such a lucky bunny with my timing. My underwear is slowly slid off my feet and onto the floor, and without another beat, I feel a warm tongue flatten over my clit and slick itself all the way up to my ass. A strangled moan escapes my throat and my upper body collapses down onto the bed—leaving my knees bent and spread for Harry to dive head-first. And that, he does. He slurps and sucks on my cunt like he’s drinking the juice of a sacred fruit that he’s never tried before. As if this is his first and only chance to sip the nectar of the rarest bloom in this lifetime. He doesn’t even waste his time fucking me with his fingers, his hands are too preoccupied spreading me open and groping me all over. There’s no room for them anyway when his tongue or his nose is shoved deep inside me as he pushes my body deeper into the mattress. “Oh, God!” I gasp. Harry hums against my clit and sucks on it, making me repeat myself. “Oh, GOD! YES!”

“Mmm, yeah, scream f’me, baby.” He groans between sucks and lappings. I roll my eyes. Bastard. I decide to take the insult back when his ravenous tongue skims up my crack and circles the tight ring there. “Auhhh…fuuuuck...” I moan. That shouldn’t feel as good as it does…I’ve never been into butt stuff before…and yet, here I am—my ass spread wide open by, well, the love of my life who’s eating me like he’s working to find the center of my tootsie pop—almost considering the possibility…

…I hate this man.

He journeys back down to my leaking pussy, flicking my clit with the very tip of his tongue back and forth so effortlessly fast that my whole body quivers. It’s such a light touch, but in an area so stimulating that it’s tightening that coil inside me in record time. My breath is uneven and shaky. My legs wobble and are threatening to squeeze closed around his face. I’m debating whether it’s worth it to reach behind me and just shove his face into my cunt so I can have some relief…but I know better than to make a dumb move like that. Instead, I push back against his tongue and wiggle my hips with a desperate whine. “Mmmmhhh Daddy, pleeeease!”

But to my chagrin, he ignores me entirely. I’m clenching and unclenching my vaginal walls, pathetically pleading for him to give them something to hold onto. Anything. Fuck—even my ass is pulsing for attention now. “Ughhh!” My groan is muffled by the duvet, but I make a point to drag it out. Finally, I receive a reaction from Harry. His tongue takes a hiatus, my clit is relieved from its torture, and I’m roughly tugged around until I’m flat on my back.

“Mmmhh nooo! Wait!” I whimper, pouting whilst I watch him wipe my wetness off his face with the panties he’d tossed aside earlier. They were already soaked through, but now all the material has my musky sweetness covering it. He smirks. “These are mine now.”

I huff and cross my arms over my chest with a scrunched up face. He lets out a guffaw and combs his fingers through his messy, silky hair. “Hm, is my sweet Bunny mad that I didn’t make her come?” He taunts, climbing back onto the bed and atop of me. I stay still and silent. Once a brat, always a brat. I don’t know what to tell ya…

Harry gently wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes. “I know you’re just a brainless bimbo, but do you remember what Daddy said about using your words, baby?” His voice is all low and silky, and it’s not fucking fair because that makes being a stubborn bitch a lot harder. Damnit. And my nipples are hard again. I just want him inside me so fucking badly that I’m close to having a mental breakdown. I’m not even joking anymore. I’m ovulating and I’m hormonal and I’m hornier than any other literal bunny rabbit on this fucking planet. I’m never going to get fucked, am I? It’s all just another silly little dream of mine, isn’t it…and Harry Edward Styles will be the death of me.

I blink back tears. I sniffle and shut my eyes tightly. Harry’s eyes follow the tear’s slippery path down my cheek until it drips onto his hand. He can’t tell if he’s actually hurt my feelings this time. By the looks of me, he thinks he has. My strewn panties beg to differ. He frowns down at me and rubs soft swirls against my clit. “You want me to use this pussy, sweetheart?” The way he proceeds is somewhere between loving and condescending. He leans back, ditching the remnants of his clothing, and finally unleashes the pulsing appendage from the prison that was his boxer briefs. It’s shiny and dark pink. Staring at it and drooling seems to be all I can do at the moment. He returns to me and carefully lifts my t-shirt over my head and removes it altogether. The two of us are completely bare now.

I probably shouldn’t be as into this as I am…I should feel wary of what’s about to happen. I should be looking for a condom. But I can’t. I won’t. I want him to have his way with me, raw. The right way. And I’m gonna give him a baby.

The atmosphere in the room has changed. The natural light that had been peeking through my blinds earlier is no longer present as the sun has now set. My room is only illuminated by faint fairy lights hanging above us, casting a soft glow upon Harry’s skin. They just barely reflect through his eyes as he looks down at me, and I gaze up at him. He takes my thick legs and bends them at my knees, holding them up by the creamy bottoms of my thighs so that my pussy is completely exposed to him. Exposed in all its natural glistening beauty. My hair is splayed out on the bed whilst his curls fall, and others stick with sweat, down his forehead.

All I hear is the sounds of our breathing and my own heartbeat as it echoes in my ears. His hips move forward, the foreskin of his cock already pulled back, and the head taps my clit. Both of us watch as a string of his precum keeps us connected when he bobs his dick up and off my skin. Harry then settles himself at my dripping entrance, teasingly pushing just the tip in and out. This prodding is immediately met with faint, wet, squelching noises. I glance back up to Harry and see that his eyebrows are pinched together with carnal amusement and pleasure. But I can’t take this any longer. Pure sin has consumed every rational thought in my brain. “Make yourself a daddy, Harry.” Whispering those words and fluttering my eyelashes up at him are the only invitation he needs to lunge into pure chaos. And within the next second, he thrusts his hips forwards and effortlessly sheathes his entire length inside of me. I choke on the moan in my throat and my eyes roll back. “Ohhh…so tight, baby. Feel so…fucking good.” I can feel his cock throbbing inside me, like he’s fighting off his orgasm just after the first pump. He pulls out completely and pushes all the way back in, slowly picking up his pace. In a needy frenzy, I’m lifting my hips to meet his—fucking myself on his cock. “Fuck…you’re amazing…I should’ve done this the night I fucking met you, goddamnit,” he grunts. I nod repeatedly, having a difficult time putting words together. “Ugh, yes, you should’ve—fuck—you should’ve…oh, my God!” His eyes darken and I feel his hand collide with my cheek, making me gasp and grind upwards so my clit rubs against his pelvic bone. “Oh my god, yes!” I moan, throwing my head back. “Fuck!” I’ve turned ravenous at this point. His earlier statement describing me as brainless is now strengthening in integrity with every slick push inside me. “How dare you…how fucking dare you hide this body from me? You’re mine…” He’s practically growling in my ear. “…Mine…”

“…All…” *thrust* “…Of this…” *thrust* “...is…” *thrust* “…mine…” *thrust* He articulates between hard bucks of his hips. I whine and pout up at him, my breasts bouncing to and fro with every harsh slap of his skin against mine. “You filthy little bitch…always fucking yourself with your tiny fingers until you’ve bloody passed out…forcing me to come on myself when you’re just a room away…when you’ve been begging f’me through the wall…” He groans and hits my other cheek briskly. “…Sayin’ my name over ‘n over again like I’m not even there…it’s extremely rude of you, innit, Bunny?” I nod my head the best I can and whimper out, “Yes-s. You’re ri-ight. I-I’m sorry, D-Daddy…I’m s-sorry, Harry-y.” Harry scoffs and buries his face down between my jiggling tits, licking and sucking and biting all over them. He then pulls his face away and slaps both of them, back and forth, watching them bounce and redden from the impact. “You’re just a set of holes for me to come into whenever I want, aren’t you? Just a babbling little fucktoy…wanting me to toss ya ‘round and fuck you senseless.”

“Ohhh-my-god-yes!” I’m in absolute, utter bliss right now. Every hit of his palm, every toss of his hips, every time he degrades me—it all makes my lower tummy spark. The state of ecstasy I’m in is so strong that I don’t even have control over my body anymore. I’m pleading and begging and praising, grabbing and pulling and squeezing, all as if my limbs are possessed and the words I speak are merely from the voice of my subconscious. It’s all so chaotic—yet, the intimacy and closeness of our two bodies is so cohesive. It’s real. It’s emotional. It’s us.

This is how I’m meant to be fucked. This is what I’ve always needed. No one has ever exceeded every need the way that Harry is right now. And Harry has never felt so needed…So powerful. He wants to be this close to me for the rest of his existence. The sweet notes of my perfume mixed with the natural aroma of both our sexes are healing emotional wounds better than tea and honey cure a sore throat. I’m his, finally his.

His drenched cock ruthlessly stretches my sloppy-wet hole. Every plunge earns him another gush of hot juice that just seeps out from my lips as if I’m melting an ice cube inside of me. “I’m gonna fucking come…” he moans out, sweat dripping from his hairline. I squeeze around him. I’m close too. “…Fuck, Bun’…gonna pump all my cum inside this pretty cunt. That’s what you’ve always wanted, yeah? Want me to get y’knocked up?” My back arches off the bed. “Please…” He lowers his head down to suck on one of my nipples. “…Yes! Please come in me. Fuck…please! I’ve been so good for you, Daddy…” Harry lets my tit go with a ‘pop’ and grunts animalistically. “Mmm, you think you deserve it? Think you’ve earned my load, huh?” He ends his sentence with a single hard thrust and holds his hips still until we both are panting and dying to keep fucking—thus only lasting a few seconds before he’s rocking his hips furiously once more. I cry out, “Please come inside me. Give me all of it. Please, please, please!” Hot tears are actually streaming down my cheeks, cascading down to my neck, and some even dripping onto my bouncing breasts. Harry doesn’t let them go to waste, diving down to lap up the drops and trace the salty trails up my neck with his tongue. The strong grip of his ringed hand covers my throat. “You’re so pretty when you cry, Y/N.” He sighs and kisses my wet cheeks. “You’re gonna give me a baby.” I’m gonna give him a baby. “Let me give you a baby, Harry.” His hips stutter. “Oh my god, I love you.”

He pounds into me almost at a violent pace. The smacking of my fleshy thighs against his hips sounds so clearly like fucking. So desperate. So hard. Both of us swimming upstream, and gladly drowning in our own oceans of pleasure. I scream out and weakly grasp my dainty fingers around the front of his neck—mirroring his grip on mine–and I pull his face down so I can press my lips to his. The jerking of his hips becomes labored. The rhythm is sloppy. I can feel him twitch and pulse inside of me. “I love you,” I gasp against his lips.

The dam breaks. He curses and moans and juts his hips up into me mercilessly as if his life depends on it. His cum shoots out in long spurts, coating my womb with sticky white seed. I can feel each jet of release as it overflows me and drips down my ass, and a burst of cum hits my most sensitive spot. My own orgasm is triggered abruptly. I don’t even register my fingers reaching down to start rubbing my swollen clit. My pussy tightens around Harry like a vice and milks him for every last drop as he slowly pumps in and out of me, watching his cum-covered dick slide effortlessly while he chuckles and moans—still so turned on even in the aftermath of our debauchery. Within seconds, his entire body falls and his face buries itself in my hair. His cock is still sheathed deep inside me. It’s barely softened, still throbbing and twitching. Both of us are wheezing for breath. Every muscle has exerted its maximum amount of energy. The bed is our last support, holding the two of us in a pretzel of limbs snugly against its sheets. After a few minutes of breath regulation, Harry carefully pulls himself out of me. His cum then slowly flows out and covers my slit all the way down to my bum and onto the bed. Harry watches and smiles for a moment before looking back up to my flushed post-climax face—my eyelids heavy and a stupid grin on my lips that eventually turns into a giggle fit. The laughter is contagious and Harry ends up following suit.

Seemingly remembering the mess between my legs, Harry rakes a hand through his sweaty hair and looks back down to see his delectably messy creampie. “Oh…Shit. ‘M sorry, Bunny. Hold on.” He yanks himself up and off the bed, still stark naked, and makes haste towards the bathroom. But by the time he comes back with wet washcloths and a towel, I’m making a bigger mess. I’ve got both legs bent up to my chest, two of my fingers fucking his cum back into my pussy and curling up against my g-spot. I squeeze and moan as I climax against my hand, and I refuse to stop at just one. On my back with spread legs, I breathlessly ride my cum-covered fingers as Harry watches in awe. His spent cock flexes in approval of the sight before him. “You’re so fucking hot.” He grunts before dropping everything onto the floor and removing my hand, replacing it with himself. He slicks the underside of his cock up and down my drenched, sticky slit a few times, then pushes back home, making me sob as I orgasm around him again. He slowly grinds his pelvis into mine in a circular motion, ensuring he’s at his deepest point. Suddenly, I feel him sucking on my fingers, licking up our combined spend as his pelvic bone rubs my clit in slow strokes. I reach my face up to his for a taste and he grants me full access to his mouth, our tongues swirling together. But I want more. I lick up the last of his cum from my fingers hungrily.

“Ugh. Such a slut…fuck.” He groans, and I feel his cock release a couple more spurts of cum inside me.

A few minutes later, Harry and I are in the shower together. I’m hugging his middle as he slowly massages and rinses the shampoo from my hair with the handheld shower head. “Bunny?” My eyes are closed, enjoying this warm, peaceful wash session. Hearing Harry’s raspy voice makes me instinctually cuddle closer to his chest and smooth my fingertips down his back. “Mmhmm,” I hum against the slippery wing of a swallow. Suddenly, I’m aware of his fast heart rate and I’m no longer at peace. My eyelids pop open. “Harry…?” He releases a heavy sigh and hangs the shower head back up behind me before taking my hair in his hands and gently squeezing the water out. Still not saying a word. Now my heart is pounding. I grab his wrists and look up at him tentatively, but he pulls them down until he can encase my fingers with his. “I…” He hesitates.

Does he regret it now? Is this it? Is this the moment when my heart gets stomped on and shoved down the drain like undesirable mush? I think I’m gonna throw up—“I want you to know that I meant what I said…I love you, Y/N…” His eyes gloss over and he looks up at the ceiling to fight the growing moisture. “…And I know I probably just inseminated you, but—” We both laugh and he blushes. “But, uhm…fuck…I guess it’s a bit awkward to do this in the shower, innit…,” he gives me a lopsided grin, dimples and all. So cute. Whilst I’m distracted by Harry’s beauty, I’m slow to acknowledge how the man is cautiously kneeling down onto the slippery tile. My breath catches. “I, uh…” He clears his throat when his voice cracks. I’m suddenly extremely self-conscious due to the angle change, yet Harry is gazing up at me like I’m some sort of holy angel from the heavens. The foot he’s leaning his weight upon slips a little, and he grabs onto my thigh and I hold his shoulders as he finds his balance. I giggle at the situation—partially because of his clumsiness, and partially because I don’t really know what’s happening. The hot water sprinkles down lightly over the two of us like rain, droplets running down our bodies and the glass walls. Harry slips off his ‘S’ ring and takes a hold of my left hand. “…This is just a placeholder for now…but…Y/N…” He plants a soft kiss on the top of my hand. “…Will you marry me?” Holy fucking shit.

“Oh, so we’re just gonna skip the whole dating thing then?” His face immediately falls. “W-wha—” “—Am I not worth courting, Harry?” I give him my best sulk and he buys it. Ope, I guess I thought he’d call my bluff right away…Gotta shut this down!

I smile brightly and nod. “Fucking-duh, I’ll marry you, silly!” He playfully scoffs at my joke, sliding the too-large-ring on my little ring finger and stands back up to his full height—almost a foot taller than me. I’m then shoved against the back tile wall, one of my legs hiked up and draped over his elbow. I gasp as he enters me without warning. He bucks into me hard, brutal, slow. Each sound that he fucks out of me is louder and higher-pitched than the last. “Yeah, of course you’ll marry me, huh…be a good little housewife f’me…wait ‘til I come home every night so I can fuck another pint of my cum into your tight little twat…would you like that, Bunny? Hm?” I whine and clutch onto his hair with one hand as the other squeezes his strong shoulder. “Yes…it’s already my favorite part of the day…” He chuckles darkly against my lips before biting them. “‘N what’s that, Bun’?”

“Mmmhh…when Harry’s home!” I exclaim weakly, my ass smacking against the wet wall behind me. “Mmm, Harry’s home, baby…Harry’s home.”

______________________________________________________________

Sorry it took forever. I wanted to make it exactly the way I wanted. I hope you liked it.

:) ~ Regan

Taglist:

@daphnesutton

@victoria-styles

@pishhhh20989

@heyyyloverr

@youdontcaredoyou

@jerseygirlinca

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raapija · 1 month

Note

hi! as a prompt for pookie au (which i love), how do you think carlos would react to finding out his dad is dating LANCE of all people? would he be immediately freaking out or would he hold it in and rant to charles about it later?

Thank you for the prompt. <3

(Carlos and Charles hadn't yet met, as this is set in 2018.)

summary: Lance talks with Carlos for the first time after Lance and Fernando told him they were dating. Also some strollonso fluff to balance it out.

warnings: some swearing, Carlos being extremely mean to Lance

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning as Carlos stared at him from the other side of the patio table. The cool evening air made his skin tingle.

"Why?" he heard Carlos ask after what had felt like 15 minutes of silence. Lance had sat down with him after having dinner with Fernando. It was the first time they told Carlos that they were together. Lando or Oscar probably would've blurted it out at some point, but it was definitely easier to tell him like this.

"What?" Lance asked for him to clarify what exactly he meant by 'why?.' He couldn't really look at Carlos, because he knew he was staring daggers back at him. They had been racing together for years, but had never really became friends or spent time together. Carlos was also a couple years older than him and had always been kind of intimidating to Lance. Something about those dark brown eyes.

"Why my dad? Of all people, why him?" Carlos continued his questioning. Now Lance looked at him and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the expression on Carlos' face. Contempt.

"I love him."

Carlos scoffed and Lance felt something inside him shift. He straightened in his seat and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give in.

"Listen," he started. "I really do like him. I know it's fucking weird that he's older and you're older than me, but so what? We like each other. It's not just some fling. He's done a lot for me and I for him. I love him."

Carlos studied him from across the table. The longer he didn't say anything, the faster Lance's heart beat. Adrenaline rushing in his veins as if he was on a race track, trying to overtake him at a high-speed corner. In the end, it was Carlos who averted his eyes to look away.

"If you break his heart, I'll kill you." Carlos said and Lance breathed out. His face was serious. "I've seen what it's like for him, and I don't want to see that again, ever. So don't you dare."

"I won't hurt him. I promise." Lance said and Carlos' eyes moved back to focus on him.

"You promise?" he chuckled, now sounding condescending. "That's what the last guy said as well. And then he left him."

Lance's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Maybe he couldn't overtake in the corner and instead would crash into the wall.

"My dad gave everything to me. He gave me a chance when no one else would. He doesn't deserve you. He's got all he needs in me and my brothers. He loves us. Not you. " Carlos said, his words cutting right through Lance like little knives. It made his throat turn dry. "You understand?"

"I do." Lance got out. Carlos' chair dragged painfully on the tile flooring of the patio when he stood up to leave. As he walked past Lance, he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder and made Lance flinch. Crashed, in the wall. Game over.

"I'll be watching you." Carlos said and then stepped back into the house, leaving him alone. Lance breathed out and a flood of emotions ran through him as he relaxed. He was 20. Just barely got into F1 and immediately started dating a 37 year-old with three grown kids. This really did sound like some sort of a breakdown if you looked at it from the outside. Still, he was glad the only person at his throat was Carlos and not the media. Only a few people knew, and that was for the best. He had enough on his plate as a 'pay-driver'.

Later that night, Lance was laying in bed, deep under the covers and waiting for Fernando to join him. He had been in this bed countless times before, but the idea of Carlos lurking somewhere in the same house made him uneasy.

He could finally hear Fernando's familiar footsteps climbing up the staircase to the second floor where the bedroom was. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lance's mind stopped racing.

"You okay?" the Spaniard asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed from Lance. He must've sensed Lance's anxiety all the way from downstairs.

"Yeah. Talked to Carlos." Lance said and turned onto his side so he could see Fernando better. The older man laid his watch and jewelry from his wrists on the bedside table and the slid under the covers. They were both facing each other and Lance scooted a little closed so Fernando could wrap an arm around him.

"How it go? Not too scary, I hope." Fernando's voice was soothing and Lance settled against his chest, warm skin touching his forehead. He felt Fernando press little kisses into his hair on the top of his head.

"He only threatened to kill me, so not that bad." Lance said and Fernando laughed. Him laughing made it feel a bit better, like he wasn't actually going to get beat up if he made one mistake.

"That's my Carlito." Fernando hummed and squeezed Lance a little closer to him, slowly running his hand up and down his back. "Don't worry about him. He likes to pretend he's tougher than he is."

"He told me someone broke your heart before so he didn't want me to repeat that." Lance said and Fernando's hand stopped moving.

Lance heard a quiet 'oh...' and wriggled back a bit to look at him. Fernando's eyes were sad. Lance didn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Fernando hurried to stop him from apologizing. He moved his hand up and set it on Lance's cheek. "That's nothing. History. I got you now, so it's okay."

"Yeah?" Lance asked and Fernando gently tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear. The Spaniard smiled at him, his eyes back to normal and happy. The things Carlos had said still irked at the back of Lance's brain, but he didn't press on it.

"You fix me." Fernando said and moved in to kiss Lance on the forehead. He then pulled him close again and held his arm tight around him. "I talk with Carlito tomorrow. Tell him to be nice to you."

Lance hummed and could already feel himself falling asleep. It felt so safe with Fernando. Strong arms holding onto him and his warmth transferring into him. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

#ask #short fic #pookie au #nando and his mcnuggets #strollonso #hope you like this 🤧💚

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lizzieislife94x · 5 months

Text

My Brothers Babysitter (e.o)

Requested <3

LizziexFem Reader

GirlxGirl

Y/ns POV:

I quickly run down stairs grabbing a slice of toast shoving it in my mouth mumbling "fuck I'm late" my mom and 4 year old brother look at me "language young lady it's OK slow down rushing won't solve it youre already late" I take a second and completely agree with her I eat my toast and have some coffee as I walk over and kiss my mom on the cheek hugging her as lizzie walks in bright eyed and bushy tailed I walk over and kiss Jay on the head "ill see you tonight little buddy" I take a second to admire lizzie she's been my brothers Babysitter for the last 6 months and Ihave a massive crush on her she's just so freaking perfect "morning lizzie" I say with a smile as I walk past "morning y/n wasn't expecting to see you I thought you started work at 8 it's almost 9" I laugh and look back at her "I over slept so I'm late" she giggles and shakes her head as I leave for work.

I climb into my car thankful that works done its 6pm and its been a long ass day I quickly drive home to take over looking after Jay mom doesn't get home till 9 tonight so I said I'll look after him after work I hope lizzie stays to hang out I love it when she does I get to spend some time with her, before I know it I pull up outside of my house and grab my bag and phone and head inside "hey guys I'm home" I say putting my bag on the floor and kicking my shoes off walking into the livingroom Jay runs to me screaming my name excitedly making me smile "did you miss me buddy I missed you so much" I say with a smile kissing his cheeks "yes yes I missed you so much! Did you bring me candy" I smirk and grab a candy bar from my bag and hand it to him as I put him down he runs away excited "what about you lizzie did you miss me" I say with a smirk flirting a little she matches my energy biting her lip, fuck "mhh I did I missed you so much" she walks towards me slowly making me freeze "did you miss me" she stares at me with those piercing green eyes for a second before laughing, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and laugh along with her we spent the rest of night hanging watching movies with Jay.

3 days later:

"Y/n sweetie lizzie is going to watch Jay until 5pm but I need to take him for new shoes so you don't have to rush home I'm thinking of taking him out to the park and maybe Mcdonalds and ice cream so we won't be back till late" I swallow my toast and take a sip of coffee before speaking "ok that's fine mom but I really have to go I have 20 minutes to get to work, I love you BYEEE JAY SEE YOU TONIGHT BUDDY" and with that I run out to my car heading to work.

I sit in my car for a few minutes before I head inside I've not had a few hours alone in so long I can't wait I grab my bag and phone and head inside putting my bag down and kicking my shoes off I take a second to appreciate the silence after 30 seconds I hear a moan like sound I follow it upstairs to my room and look confused I'm here so who the fuck is fucking in my room "oh god y/n yes yes right there baby oh fuck" my mouth drops as I recognise lizzies voice is she no she can't be Holy shit I feel the fluttery feeling starting as my panties start to fill with my own wetness I press my ear to the door listen to her moans as I slide my hand in my panties I gently rub my clit as my head falls against the door making a little dink but I don't notice I slide my fingers down to my entrance pushing them in moaning lizzies name quietly as I start to thrust "oh god yes mmmh fuck" I moan quietly as the door swings open and I'm met by a smirking lizzie with lust fill eyes "I knew you where listening to me perv" I slide my hand out face turning bright red before it hits me I shouldn't be embarrassed she was fingerings herself on my bed in my room "um I think you'll find you where in my room in my bed fingering yourself thinking about me" I say boldy as she bites her lip and pulls me into the room slamming me against the wall as her hand slides into my pants and panties making me moan "if you don't want this tell me baby ill stop I just can't hold back any longer" she breaths out clearly turned on as she stares into my eyes I smash our lips together confirming I want this she instantly slides 2 fingers inside me making my eyes roll "oh yes lizzie don't stop" I moan as I grind my hips to meet her thrusts as she licks her lips thrusting her fingers faster I let my hands slide up her tee towards her tits groaning when I feel she has no bra I feel her thrusting her fingers faster as she curls them driving me wild I grip her tits and roll her nipples between my fingers as she let's out the sexiest moan I've ever heard "mmmh y/n" I bite my lip as I feel my orgasm approach "gonna cum oh god" I feel my legs trembling "cum for me babygirl" I feel my orgasm crashing over me as I cum all over her fingers and hand "mmhhh good girl my good girl" she grins pecking my lips before sliding her hands out bringing them to her lips her eyes never leaving mine "you taste amazing" I bite my lip as I grab the hem of her tee pulling it off finally getting to see her perfect tits "oh god"

I moan as I lean down taking her left nipple in my mouth as she grips my hair moaning while I suck her nipple I make quick work pushing her shorts and panties off as she starts taking my pants off in matter of seconds we're both naked I step back to admire her before stepping forward kissing her passionately both of us stumbling back falling onto the bed I start to kiss my way down her body desperately needing to get to her cunt after leaving a few kisses on her stomach I put her legs over my shoulder staring at how wet she is as a groan leaves my lips I leave gentle kisses on her clit as she moans a little "don't tease me y/n ive waited 6 god damn months" her tone is such a turn on I do as she says and lick from her entrance to her clit taking it into my mouth sucking harshly as a loud moan escapes her lips she grabs my hair making me moan Into her cunt causing her to moan louder after I work on her sensitive clit for a minute I slide my tounge down to her entrance pushing it inside her enjoying the taste of her "oh god y/n fuck me shit don't stop right there!" She pants her body starting to squirm as I work my tounge deeper and faster inside her before I know it shes squirting all over my face taking me by surprise I sit up her juices drenched all over my face she hides her face before I remove her hands "that was the sexiest thing I've ever experienced I was just taken back its never happened before but fuck me I want to make that happen every fucking day" I say passionately as I run my hands up her body to cup her cheeks I lean down kissing her passionately as our tounges explore one and others mouths I use my legs to push her legs open nice and wide as I position myself ontop of her without breaking the kiss I pull away when our dripping cunts touch as the feeling is almost enough to send me over the edge "oh fuck lizzie"

I say looking down at her as she moans throwing her head back I start to thrust our clits rubbing together perfectly both of us moaning at the sensation I quicken my pace as I feel my orgasm approaching quickly lizzie scratches my thighs as I grind into her harder it doesn't take long for both of us to cum against the others pussy I fall on top of her gently as she wraps her arms around me both our breathing out of control "Honey were home!!!" I hear my mom yell as we both look at eachother and jump up getting ready in seconds both of us knowing fine well Jay will come running right in "y/n!!!" He yells bursting through the door jumping into my arms he looks at lizzie confused for a second before hugging her too "we bought you nugg" my mom stops in her tracks "maybe open a window next time" she says with a smirk looking at me and lizzie, lizzie hides her face in my back making me laugh "it's about time you two realised, Jay come on honey let's go get you ready for bed I think y/n and lizzie would rather be alone right now, don't worry sweetie ill get you a lock for your bedroom door tomorrow" I hide my face as I feel it burning red "ok mom thank you can you leave us for now please " I beg as she laughs shutting the door I turn to face lizzie "I'm so sorry" I say embarrassed as she bursts out laughing "it's OK babe at least tomorrow we'll have a lock" I look at her shocked "wait this is happening again?" She bites her lip and nods "definitely I've never felt that good in my life plus I've had the biggest crush on you for months litterly when we met i knew i wanted you" I smile and pull her in for a kiss full of love and happiness both us smiling into the kiss.

AN: hope yall enjoy it I might do one more one shot tonight, all feedback welcome and again thanks to my regular peeps for voting on these it means alot it let's me know I'm doing something right and you guys like them 😊 word count 1.8k stay hydrated babes

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jieunoclock · 3 days

Text

Love Your Feeling || Chapter two

- Making Mistakes₊˚⊹♡

He looks in my eyes, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You look good today” he says. That's it, I kiss him.

Pair: jjk x femOC, college students, best friends

Word count: 6.6k

Warning: this chapter includes explicit scenes⚠️

masterlist

!Friends to Lovers, Protective Brother, Secret Dating, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Mature content, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, Smut, Mentions of Alcoholism and Abuse (s)

——————————————————————₊˚⊹♡

It's a perfect warm spring day, perfect for a party. I see the bus coming into my peripheral vision, looking up from my phone. AirPods in my ears, blasting some ransom hype playlist Spotify made for me. I check in and sit down.

Last party I've been to must've been a few weeks ago, so needless to say I'm quite excited for tonight. Need to get my mind off of school for a second. The bus ride feels slow. Arriving at Jia's and Nabi's place, a little before 6.30.

They only live 5 minutes away from campus. Bought their own little apartment when they enrolled here. It's nothing fancy, right outside of the campus area, into an alley. It's mostly 20+ year olds living here since it's so close to school.

They all got to know each other over time. To the left are the residential units. They look like the big Minecraft houses. The two story oak plank houses, with double doors, staircase in the middle and a farm in front of it.

It's basically like that. Big two story house, staircase in the middle of it, leading to two doors. One on the left and one on the the right.

It's basically split in four parts. Jia and Nabi live on the left upper floor. The bottom floor belongs to someone else.

On the right side you have the exact same layout, only mirrored. The person who has the top floor is blessed with an attic, whilst the bottom floor can enjoy a little bit of garden space.

It might look small, but it's actually not. It'll surprise you how spacious it is. There's 3 of these units pasted next to each other, Counting a left and right side of a unit one.

On the right side of the alley there's a convenience store. At the end of the path it curves left around the store, to access either the big road or more units. Never been there, so I wouldn’t really know.

Jia and Nabi live in unit one. the first one to your right, as you walk through the alley. I go up the stairs, turn my body to the left and ring the doorbell.

Staring at the welcome mat beneath my feet, I hear some rummaging behind the door. At the same time I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and I look to see who’s approaching me. It’s Minnie.

"HEYY!" I say opening my arms to hug her. "Missed you yesterday you know" I smiled.

"Sorry" she giggles, smile from ear to ear.

We hear a big thud from behind the door, turning our heads to where the sound came from. "Ouch"

I try not to laugh, pressing my lips together and covering them with my hand. Then the door swings open. "FINALLY!" Jia says

"We're on time Gi" I say setting foot in their house.

“EVEN ME!” Minnie says. She does tend to get late.

"Expected you earlier" she says walking past us, running upstairs. Both Minnie and I follow her, to the attic. They've got two bedrooms, a bathroom, living room and a kitchen, on the first floor.

They turned the entire attic into a walk in closet, devided into two parts. One side for Nabi, vanity on the left wall. Other side for Jia, mirroring Nabi's side.

"So.. I was thinking" Jia starts "Black denim, mini skirts" she smiles.

"I hear ya" I say.

She starts frantically looking through her closet. "We need to look hot and sexy, but also casual"

"Gigi it's just a house party" Minnie rolls her eyes, sitting down in her vanity chair.

"Kai's house party" she says "Wrong.. the football teams house party" She answers. Tilting her head back, dyed platinum blonde hair hanging over the back rest. "Yeah and Kai is gonna be there"

She continues pulling out pieces of clothing from her closet, occasionally moving to Nabi's side to find specific pieces of clothing. Slowly creating 4 different, matching outfits.

"Where's Nabi at?" I wonder. "Oh! She's getting groceries, she's cooking pasta" she answers. Head buried in between the clothes.

There's not really much to do for me. Nabi's in charge of dinner, and Jia's in charge of the outfits.

Outfit one:

Classic black denim mini skirt, has a light wash to it. White crop top on top of it. White socks, and platform converses for foot wear.

Outfit two:

Same classic black denim mini skirt, with the light wash to it. A black crop top. And again the same white sock, and platform converses.

Outfit three:

Black denim mini skirt again, it has a star on the right side of it. Classic black crop top. White socks, black adidas campus shoes.

Outfit four:

Black denim mini skirt, this time it ruffles midway through. Instead of the usual tight fit. White crop top. Again white socks, white new balance 550's. It's certainly matching.

"This one's for Minnie" she says. Grabbing the stacked pieces of clothing in one hand, the shoes in the other.

"Ruffles for you" she smiles, eyes sparkling. Stretching her arms out, handing her the outfit.

"No platform for you two since you're the tallest ones" she once smiles again. Chin down a little. Eyes up, looking at Minnie through her lashes.

It's true, we're not specifically 'tall'. Nabi and Jia are just really short. Had fought about it many times to see who’s taller. Since Nabi and I only have a height difference of two centimeters. The rest doesn��t need discussion, Minnie sticks out compared to the rest of us. And Jia well… you can certainly see she’s the shortest. Shes 153cm, only wears platforms to appear taller. Minnie is right about 167cm. I'm next reaching 160cm.

She walks back to where she's put the different outfits, then we hear the door open. It must be Nabi coming back from the store, she's a really good cook.

There was this time. I couldnt to stay home, for many reasons. Ran to their unit, crying. Phone was smashed, cards left at home. I was unable to pay for the bus, took me a while to get there. They took me in for about 3 weeks, until I decided it was enough. Couldn't keep living under their roof for ever.

Nabi even gave up her room for me, slept in a bed with Jia the entire time. They told me not to worry, and that I'm welcome anytime. Just felt like I was being a burden sometimes, when they had guests of family over.

Needless to say I know what her cooking tastes like, and it never disappoints.

"NABS COME UP HERE, BRING WINE!" Jia yells, from her closet. And not much later, Nabi comes upstairs. Four wine glasses, and a bottle of rosé in her hands.

"Heyy!!" She says to us. Lifting the bottle of wine up in the air, swinging it a little as she smiles. Scurrying over to Jia's vanity, the one Minnie's sitting at again.

She places down the four glasses, and fills them with the rosé.

"Ohh we're matching matching?" She asks. looking up at Jia, giving her, her glass.

"What? How could you tell?" I say laughing within the words. Utterly confused, I mean there's still three outfits lying there.

She turns around, looking at me. "Do you really think she'd give you the platforms? It’s an easy giveaway, you're second tallest" she explains. It’ll always be a petty competition. You’re taller, you do it! Whilst the gap isn’t even that big. Jia shrugs, satisfied smile plastered on her face “What can I say, she knows me” I gotta give her that.

Then Nabi walks over to me, gives me one of the glasses she's holding and sits next to me on the stool. The kind of stools you see in one of those fancy walk in closets, I guess you could call this a fancy walk in closet.

"Sooo.. Minnie" I laugh, leaning over to look at her, past Nabi. "Who's the lucky guy?" I raise my eye brows. She groans, leaning her head back once again.

"You know we'll find out one day, especially with Jia's detective skills" Nabi says.

"Oh please let me know once you do, I'll enjoy the privacy in the mean time" she answers, sipping her wine. Everyone just sighs, clicking their tongues.

"Okay okay, calm down" she says, Signing with her hands to 'sush' us. "He's tall, black hair, broad shoulders, he's got thick lips and is utterly handsome, he's funny, a gentleman and he goes to our school" she says.

"Oh god, do we know him?" I ask. "Stop no this is so exciting!!" Jia exclaims. Minnie just stays quiet, keeps on sipping her wine.

"C'mon, show us a picture" I say, but all she does is just shake his head. "Someday babes, just not today" she laughs.

"Enough about mystery boy, you guys should get changed."

"Here" Jia says, grabbing My outfit. The one with the star on the skirt, and gives it to me.

Walks back to the two outfits that are left. Grabs the one with the black top, and gives it to Nabi. Getting all of us changed, Jia then does our hair and makeup. Doesnt forget to drench herself in glitter spray, shes always so glittery. It suits her personality though.

All of us are already have a hard time getting out the glitter she leaves on us, let alone if we spray ourselves aswell.

Nabi cooks us dinner, chicken pasta. Already drooling at the name of it. Usually with a bunch of garlic, but not today. They're planning on getting it on with their crushes, what worse than to smell like a humanied piece of garlic. It tastes delicious though, even with the lack of garlic.

——————————————————————————

"Alrightyy let's go!" Nabi cheers

We all down the shots infront of us. Shake away the burning sensation in our throats, and walk towards the door. Asses nearly out, but still casual enough for it to not be weird.

I secretly I hope the outfit grabs the attention of a certain someone, won't admit it to them though. Though I wear mini skirts more often, it’s nothing special for me.

We walk over the big of campus. Dark out, all four of our arms intertwined with each other. I can hear the party's music from far, the cheers of people. It makes me feel excited, sounds like tonight will be fun.

Jia is immediately welcomed by many people, won't take her long to find Kai.

I look around the room, filled with people. They've got drinks in their hands, talking to their friends. Some are even dancing.

It doesn't take me long to spot the kitchen. Sometimes I think my kitchens dirty, this takes it to a whole other level. I grab Minnie's hand from behind me, sign to her that I know where the alcohols at.

We walk past Jia and Nabi, who are still saying hi to random people. I place my hands on front of me, on the kitchen counter. Stretched out, leaning on them.

"So, what you want 'm lady?" I ask Minnie.

"I have a strong desire for a vodka sunset ma'am" she replies. Pursing her lips, keeping a formal tone to her voice. "It is my pleasure" I smile, turning around on my heels.

Found the orange juice, in the fridge. and some strawberry syrup next to it, on the counter. Vodka wasn't difficult to find, and so I have all ingredients to make a 'vodka sunset', my specialty.

I see Jia and Nabi walking up to us, automatically assume they'll want sunsets too. Put them in front of them, as they sit down.

“Welcome ladies!” I hear behind me.

The look on Jia's and Nabi's face gives away easily who's standing behind me, so I turn around. Keeping my cool, hear absolutely going insane.

"Hello boys" I say, we all smile. "Craving some sunsets? It's my specialty" I look up at Taehyung standing in front of me. He’s so gorgeous, even up close. As much as you can call it 'in front' though, they're not that close.

They're standing there as if they're in a movie, clearly popular guys. Taehyung, Kai and Jimin. He laughs "Sure" And so I make three more sunsets. I could get addicted to that laugh, feel like I’m gonna fall to my knees just be looking at it.

"Extra sweet for the pretty ones amongst us" I joke. Clearly flirting, as I look up into Taehyungs eyes.

We all say cheers, down our shots.

"Damn, these really are your specialty" he says. Jia and Nabi are clearly eyeing the other two boys.

"So.. you guys party a lot?" Jimin asks. Jia looks down, shes shy. Shes never really 'shy', shes the social butterfly amongst us. Seems like she might really have an eye on Kai, standing next to Jimin.

Nabi had decided to sit down on the bar stool, that's placed beside the kitchen island. Legs crossed, chin leaning on her hand. Batting her eyelashes, as Jimin speaks.

I’m standing closer to the guys, therefore decide to answer his question. "Jia does! Personally not really tho" Turning my head to look at the girls, behind me. Jia looks up. She smiles softly, and raises her hand a little.

"We noticed some.. new followings on insta" I say teasingly. Taehyung laughs a little. He looks down at the floor, his hand reaching for the back of his neck. I swear I’m going insane.

"Aha yeah.. well we noticed some fangirls so"

I try not to laugh at that, smiles obvious on my face. Close my eyes, and shake my head just a little. Before turning my heels, back to the kitchen island.

These men i swear to god.

He’s charming, Taehyung. I’ve heard the stories, girls go feral for him. Talking so casually to him like this, makes me feel as if I have a chance with him. Works me in my delusions, something I’ve dreamed of for months now.

"Another round?" I look around myself, everyone agrees. So I make 7 new sunsets. We talk, we have fun. Nabi started talking to Jimin, finally. And Jia to Kai. Minnie wondered off, probably meeting her boyfriend somewhere.

——————————————————————————

"So why haven't we spoken before" he laughs. "I don't know" i respond, rolling my eyes playfully.

"Maybe because I don't want all of the girls in school to hate me! I don't know our status are just too different I guess" I laugh. It's true. He's a popular school jock, I'm a well.. a normal student.

"Jia is quite popular, could've gotten to us through her for sure" he answers. Sorta is what happened. If it wasn't for Nabi and Jia's fangirling, i wouldnt have sat here.

We're sat on a couch at this point. It's late, don't know what time though. It's still full, it's a Saturday so I don't expect anyone to leave soon.

Taehyung is sat next to me, my legs over his lap. Too far gone to go insane, we're chatting nicely. Some girls walking past have eyed me, but the amounts of alcohol I've had by now makes me not care about that.

With the stress of all the homework and tests I've been having, I feel like I'm allowed to treat myself. "You want another drink?" I say, getting up from the couch.

"Oh no I'm alright" he says. I get up, and walk back to the kitchen again.

Working myself through the crowd of people, there's not too many people though. Stumbling across the room, nearly tripping over my feet multiple times. I manage to get myself to the kitchen counter. "Ugh what do I fancy~"

I lean onto the counter with the palms of my hands, rocking on my feet a little. One of them red, American, cups will do. I scan the messy counter, different kinds of alcohol, different brands, different sodas.

I could kill for a vodka Red Bull actually, doesn't matter that I've probably already had enough alcohol for the day.

Can't even bother to measure my drink out, it's probably gonna taste like shit. And when I take a sip, it confirms my assumptions.. yeah tastes like shit.

I turn around, decide to make my way back to Taehyung.

This is why I hate partying. There's sweaty people crawling the place, and I don't even have to bother with the cleanup. Can't imagine what a real club is like, this is just a normal house party.

I do have to say, it loosened up my conversations with Taehyung. I'm not particularly the shy type, just don't like stepping out to others that much. Especially since Taehyung and I are in such different status levels, it would've been weird if I just randomly started speaking to him. Gosh he'd laugh in my face if I’d done that.

I never expected him to be this nice though, he seems actually interested. Well he shows interest in my private life. Looks at me a certain way that makes my cheeks burn hot. And for what reason? He doesn’t like me. We literally just met. I could definitely see him being my first boyfriend, have been.. I mean can you blame me? He’s complete and total bout-

What..

I stop my tracks, eyes wide. I feel as if I'm somewhere I shouldn't be, as if I just caught someone and should apologize profusely.

In the small amount of time it took me to get my drink and get back, he managed to move onto the next girl.. someone who's a lot easier than me apparently.

Took him too long to get into my pants and figured to just get some easy slut to do the job or something?

There's.. a girl. On his.. lap? Really?

Five minutes, FIVE MINUTES ID BEEN GONE??

God why do I even care, I've known the guy for what. Two hours? Still the short scene, makes my world spin a little.

I chug down the drink I had just gotten, and go back to the kitchen to make another one. More vodka in it than last time, tastes even more disgusting than the first one. Chugging it down, nearly gagging, hanging over the sink.

"YOO BUNNY" there's only one person who calls me that. "Didn't expect you here"

He stands next to me, ass leaning onto the counter. Arms crossed, looking into the crowd.

I look up at him, out of breath as if I just puked my brains out. Eyes pained. "You alright?" Jungkook asks.

"Uhm" I clear my throat. "Yeah no ofcourse" I say whilst shaking my head.

"Why are you here?" Stupid question, anyone can just come in and join. Don't need a special invitation or anything.

"Well, sorry for interrupting Yun. Let's dance, it'll take ur mind off of things" He tends to be be the kind of person that takes your mind off of things, rather than talking about it. If I do need to have a serious talk, he's always there for me.

He grabs my wrist, and drags me to the dance floor. There isn't really a 'dance floor', the living room has just been repurposed as one.

The world spins a tiny bit, just nothing too bad. I don't feel like I'm about to throw up anymore, like I've felt copious amounts of times. I genuinely hate it.

I have my back turned to the sofa, Taehyung and I were sitting at. I didn't check if he was still sitting there, as we walked over. But the way Jungkook shifts his gaze between me and the sofa, has me guessing that he is.

"Gon’ tell me what happened?" He asks

I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to talk about it. "Wanna make him jealous?" He then asks again. I raise my eyebrows. "Jealous?"

He doesn't say anything. He places his hands on my hips, to make me step closer. He then takes my arms, and places them on top of his shoulders behind his neck.

He placed his hands on my hips again. Moves his hips himself, swaying to the music. Guiding my hips with his hands to do the exact same thing, 'swaying to the music'.

The moment, somewhat caught me off guard. The alcohol is getting to my head, and it's making me that that Jungkook is looking a little too good tonight.

It's probably the way my stomach just turned, when I saw Taehyung there. To have someone's attention feels nice. It's dark in the room, music is blasting through my ears. And all I can seem to focus on, is the way he's so in the moment.

He seems so unbothered, faint smile on his face from the drinks he's had. The smallest trail of sweat running down the side of his neck, because of how hot it is in here. Yet he doesn't smell bad, good even.

"Yun!" He says, raising his voice just a little bit. "Huh what?" I say, shaken out of my own thoughts.

"Taehyung, he's watching" he nudges his head a little, to where Taehyung was sitting. Now knowing that Taehyung is watching, I wanted to get revenge.

Taehyung probably wouldn't even care, but atleast it's for my peace of mind. Anyone can tell the droopy, sad, expression on my face. I really just want to leave.

But still I choose to not admit to that just yet, focusing on Jungkook once again. Following his guide, to dancing together.

Though, I feel like my emotions are making him feel sad as well. "You here with someone?" I ask him.

Im done with this party, it's been an emotional roller coaster. I was having fun, and I'm letting some useless boy ruin that.

He shakes his head. "Can I stay at yours?"

I don't want to go home, be put up with Yoongi. He'll see right through me, will investigate who hurt me. Just to run off and hurt them.

On one hand, it's nice to have someone care like that. On the other hand, it hurts me too. I keep being left alone, dealing with myself. And having to take care of mum, with Yoongi ran off.

I'm just not in the mood for it tonight. Plus, I've stayed at Jungkooks house copious amounts of times.

He doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Leading me out of the house. Him up front, hand stuck out behind him to stabilize me a little.

He doesn't live too far. But walking is certainly the longer route. Will take a while.

Jungkook is definitely a better drunk, than me. I can tell by the way he looks, smells and acts, that he's had quite some drinks. Though he's still able to walk properly, act somewhat normal.

Were walking on the sidewalk, I try not to stumble. Focusing on the pavement, watching my feet closely. One foot in front of the other and switch. But it doesn't work, I trip. Face down.

"Ah!" I immediately reach for the stinging sensation on my knee. It's not terrible, nothing I'd usually cry over. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"Nayun! Are you okay?" Jungkook immediately rushes over to me. "Ah yeah, my knee just hurts."

I sit down on the ground, as Jungkook kneels beside me

He grazes his fingers over my hurt knee, blows on it. “Just a little scratch, can you walk?” He asks as he helps me up.

I’m on the verge of tears, world crashing down. As if he knows, he crouches down in front of me, signing for me to get in his back. “U sure you can handle my weight” I ask. “Yun. don’t even start, I can handle you perfectly fine” he reassures me.

I get on his back, even though I could’ve just walked myself. The gesture is nice.

Not really in the mood to talk we eventually reach his apartment. He shares it with his friend, Mingyu. He’s nice, only really see him whenever I stay over.

He sets me down on my feet in front of his apartment, and opens the door for me. “Mingyu’s not home, I can take his bed if you want”

Usually we grab 2 separate covers, and sleep in his bed.

I don’t move, don’t know why. My expression feels droopy, empty, hurt. Mustn’t look nice from a third persons perspective. Can’t seem to take my eyes off him. his fluffy hair, that’s wildly distributed because of his dancing. His big hands that are holding the door open. His pretty face that looks at me as he asks.

“Is everything okay?” Answering him feels too difficult, with what’s going on in my head. I’ve never denied the fact that he grew up to be good looking, but to observe him the way I have tonight? Were there shrooms in the pasta or something?

So I don’t answer at all. switch my gaze to look inside of his apartment, and walk in.

“Go sit on the kitchen counter” he tells me, I silently obey his words. Walking to the kitchen and sitting on the empty counter, next to the sink.

He takes a little before he walks over to me, box in his hands. Places it beside me and inspects my knee. I watch him carefully as he takes the disinfection spray, sprays it on my knee. It stings a little but I’ve felt worse.

“Hurts?” He asks looking up at me. I quickly look at me knee, pretending I hadn’t had my eyes glued on him since he started taking care of my knee. Shake me head, because it doesn’t.

He wets a cloth with warm water and dabs in on the skin, before he dries it of plasters it shut with a band aid.

Hips leaning on the counter, hands on both sides of my legs on the counter. He looks in my eyes, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I gulp, for some reason.

“You look good today” he says.

Why. Why does he say that? I’m not in the right state of mind to be handling this right now. I’m afraid I'm going to make wrong decisions, decisions I shouldn’t. But he looks so damn good.. so damn good..

My eyes search his face, no expression. I like my lips, clearly some version of nervous. Still somewhere drunk, I cup his cheeks with my hands. Lean in, close my eyes, and kiss him. And he kisses me back, he actually kisses back. He doesn’t move a lot though, but also doesn’t move away.

As if a switch in my mind flipped, I break the kiss. Hands off him. “Omg, I-I’m so sorry” I apologize. Get back on my feet, ready to flee the scene walking past him.

But he catches my wrist, I swing around back to him. Hair flying around me, almost cinematically. And he kisses me again. More forceful this time, pushing my back against the counter again. He brushes a hand through my hair and rests it on my neck. Before placing me on top of it again.

He licks the bottom of my lip, testing the waters. I copy his movements. Tongue exploring my mouth, I let a moan slip. With the amount of alcohol I’ve had today, embarrassing is a stage I’ve far surpassed.

He takes it as a sign. kisses me along my jaw, down my neck. Moving my head to the side to give him easy access. His hands on my waist.

“You look good too I guess” I say. He laughs at that, sending vibrations all through my body.

“Shut up” he says with a slight chuckle in his voice.

“Make me” what in the word possessed me to say that. He’s my best friend, I don’t want this. Expected it to be Taehyung.

He stops what he’s doing, looks me in the eyes. “Sure?” He says. “yes..” I whisper. No, no is what I should’ve said. But it feels too good to stop, feels wrong for it to be him. But feels so good.

As if he doesn’t need telling twice, he connects his lips with mine again. Rougher this time, as if they’ve been wanting it for years. Though it’s just a one time thing. Doesn’t see him like that.

He picks me up from the counter, my legs wrapping around his waist. No idea where he brings me to as my back is turned to the apartment, too busy focusing on his lips.

“Gon make you feel so good” he says between kisses. Until my back hits the back of his bed. Legs still wrapped around his waist.

He takes off his shirt, he’s certainly been working out. Big biceps, soft skin, toned abs. Oh do I love muscles.. “Like the view huh?” He cocks. GOD do I want to roll my eyes at him. But instead I take my shirt off as well. Left in my bra, and skirt.

“Expected someone?” Is the first thing he said at the sight of my bra. “No” I lied. He doesn’t respond. far too occupied kissing my chest now, as my moans occupy the room.

He trails his fingers across my thighs, teasing me. He stops kissing me, looks me in my eyes. Don’t know what to say to him. No words come to mind. Brows furrowed, biting down on my lip.

“What you want bunny” he teases higher up on my inner thighs, should’ve worn safety shorts but decided not to. Wearing a baby pink, lacy thong, that matches my bra.

“Don’t call me that” I say breathily, hate it when he calls me that. Called him bunny once because I thought it was funny, he’d call me bunny too. Mine stuck, his didn’t. He knows I hate it.

“What?.. Bunny?” As he says that, he presses down on my clit. Receiving a soft moan from me. “Seems like you like it” he smirks. Hate that smirk.

He dares to shoot even lower, finger at my entrance. He circles around, not wanting to put them in yet.

I want to speak up, talk back. Tell him to shut his mouth. “I-ah, fuck” failed miserably. Just as I want to tell him off, he dips one finger in.

“Fuck, you’re so wet bunny” that stupid name again. My hand shoots up to his bicep, holding onto it for dear life. “More” he’s not even really doing anything, yet I want his big hands to stretch me out further.

He obliges, adding another finger.

“How bad do you want it bun” he asks, pumping his fingers in and out painfully slow.

“Shut up” I hiss. Though u have to admit, I clench around his fingers as he calls me that.

“Tell me” he says again and still his fingers completely. “Finger me Koo” I look at him, doe eyed. I can feel him fucking twitch against my leg as I say that. He looks at me for a few seconds, completely still “Koo?” He breathes in heavily, leaving a groan as he releases his breath.

He crashes his lips against mine, moving his fingers again. He's certainly skilled to say the least. two fingers moving in and out of me again, curling inside of me, hitting the exact right places. Thumb on my clit circling around it.

My mouth falters open, unable to kiss him back. The back of my head burying deep in the mattress. Eyes shut. Fuck it feels good.

He kisses down my collarbone. If he continues like this I'm actually going to come soon.

"Fuck, Koo" I moan loudly, he can feel my walls clench around his fingers. He stops kissing me. "Look at me when you cum" He says, well.. more like demands. "Look who's making you feel like this yun" I absolutely try my best to look at him, eyes faltering shut before opening them again. "That's it" He praises, That's what it does for me. My orgasm hitting me hard, as I try my absolute best to look at him. Tears nearly peeping through.

Both our heads snap at his door, before we look at each other shocked. "I thought you said Mingyu wasn't home" I say as he quickly pulls his fingers out of me, feeling empty inside. "He told me he was staying at his girlfriends house" quickly closing his bedroom door as the front door opens.

We both find our discarded shirts on the ground putting them back on. I run to his mirror checking if I look presentable. we both stay completely silent, holding our breath afraid to make a single sound.

We can hear Mingyu walk past the door, to his own bedroom slamming his door shut. both letting out a breath we've been holding for far too long.

Jungkook leans his head back against the door. I can see the disappointment in his face. the walls are thin, heard Mingyu in action one time.

I feel disappointed, bad for him. Poor dude getting blue balled. I'm afraid to admit I was kind of looking forward to returning the favour to him.

Who says we still can't?

I walk over to him, as quiet as I can. As soon as I approach him I trail my finger across his abdomen, placing kisses on his shoulder and collarbone.

"Bun? what ar-" I cut him off, shushing him wish a kiss to his mouth. "Just stay quiet" I whisper against his ear. my hands at his waist band, unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans. dropping down to my knees.

to be honest I have no idea what I'm doing. mimicking things I've seen, and read. Pulling his jeans down a little, placing a kiss on his clothed cock. I can feel he's still rock hard. I can hear his breath hitch as I place a kiss on it.

Not wanting to waste too much time, I pull his boxers down too. nearly jump scaring me as he springs free. I need a moment to register what I'm seeing, I've always seen dicks as something pretty ugly. But having him in front of me like this, makes me think otherwise. He's big. Bigger than I thought existed in real life. But nothing abnormal. "Stop staring" He whispers. I meet his eyes. shaking me out of my thoughts. There's no way in hell I can take all of him.

I place my hands at his base, Notice he's struggling not to moan at my touch. Place a kiss on the side of his cock, licking a long stripe across the vein that goes from the base to his tip. placing a kiss on it as I reach the end. swiping my tongue across his slit, tasting his precum. And take him in my mouth.

I can tell he's struggling to keep quiet, his hand finding it's way into my hair. I try to take as much of him as I can, without trying to gag on him. bobbing my head up and down, moving my hands wherever I cant reach.

Never would I have thought, giving a blowjob can be arousing for the one whose giving it as well. noticing I'm rubbing my thighs together as if I didn't just orgasm around the same fingers that are in my hair right now.

he pushes my head down a little, making me moan softly against him making him groan in response. I look at him through my lashes, eyes meeting his as he was already looking at me.

I squish his balls lightly, sending him over the edge. he pushes my head down hard, tears peeking through the corner of my eyes. he comes down my throat. soft humming coming from above me as he tries his best to stay quiet. warm liquid trickling down my throat as I swallow all of it.

sucking him empty and letting go with a plop. He wipes the corner of my mouth, as I smile at him proudly. "Good girl" he says, making me clench on absolutely nothing.

He puts himself back in his boxers, putting his jeans back on as well as I get back to my feet. He nudges his head to his door that he's still leaning against.

"U can take a shower if you want to. take a tee of mine" I nod at him, swinging around to his dresser stealing one of his shirts. running off to the bathroom.

Been to his house so many times is normal for me to be here.

I walk back to his room after my shower, hair blow dried, big shirt of Jungkook's. he switches places with me and disappears into the bathroom.

suddenly it all feels empty again, quiet. events of this evening reoccurring in my head. Jungkook seemed to take my mind of Taehyung for a little. but now that, that moment is over, it all comes flushing back.

I feel so stupid to think I had an actual chance with him.

I make my way to Jungkook's bed, curling up under his covers. Too empty to even open my phone to see my missed messages. Or to look at TikTok to pass the time.

Time passes so slowly, staring right in front of me. No thoughts running through my mind, but at the same time so many.

Jungkook makes his way back into his room. I didn’t even notice until he was in squatting next to me. tucking a piece of hair behind my ear as I'm laid on my side. I look at him, only my eyes moving to find his.

"you sure you're alright?" I don't want to answer him, feel embarrassed about what happened. I feel so naïve.

"Lets pretend nothing happened okay?" I tell him. He nods. a simple "okay" leaving his mouth.

he walks over to the other side of his bed. back facing me, my back facing him. I feel like I shouldn't leave him in the dark on what happened.

"had a crush on Taehyung" I admit to him, feel like I'm admitting it to myself as I tell him. "Was talking with him at the party for like 2 hours.." he stays silent, not sure if he's listening or maybe already sleeping. "left for a drink, saw another girl on his lap when I came back"

"I felt so naïve, to think he'd like me back. but he just wanted to get in my pants. was devastated when I saw them, felt like I was gonna throw up" I tell him "Oh yeah and then I fell." I add.

He's completely silent. no clue if he's even awake, maybe he's wearing headphones. maybe he fell asleep, I don't know.

"Koo?" I say softly. I get a soft "yeah?" back, almost like a whisper.

"Wasn’t sure if you were listening" I say. there's so much room between us. I left to his house to feel comfortable, to not be alone. knew my brother would be a pain in the arse at home. and if he wouldn't, than mum would be. I feel.. empty, even tough my night was so full.

After everything that happened with Jungkook tonight, how is my mind still with Taehyung? "Koo?.." I say again. "yeah?.." Somehow I’m nervous for what I'm about to ask him, afraid he’ll reject me. Part of me knows he wouldn't. Part of me knows it isn't usually weird. Just after what happened today I'm unsure.

"Can we cuddle?" I ask quietly, Almost embarrassed.

He doesn't reply, all he does I move. Move closer to me in his bed. And as I look over I see him holding his arm up. Open for me to join him. Not a single moment in my mind that doubts rolling over to him.

He wraps me up in his arms as I hug his waist tightly, not wanting to let go of someone else at the moment. So desperately in need of physical touch, is sad.

A tear falls down from my face. too much going on at the moment. too much for me to handle. I know he can feel me sob in his embrace, I know his shirt is getting salty wet because of my tears. he doesn't mention it. caresses my hair and suits circles on my back. even places a kiss on my forehead.

"Back to normal tomorrow m'kay?" He whispers, hearing the vibrations from his chest through my cheeks, are soothing. secretly wishing they could last forever.

I nod, and fall asleep quite vastly.

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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SAMUEL SEO FLUFF >>>>>>

Honestly. Why are we all simping for this unhinged man? Present company included. He's an absolute menace to society but for some reason I just want him to be happy and at peace.

Samuel Seo x Reader: Spectacles

You hover in the store, trying on different pairs of glasses as a way to kill time.

Lucky for you, your vision remains 20/20. No matter how many times you were scolded to not sit too close to the television, stare at a screen too long, or read with proper lighting, you have avoided the need for specs.

Still, it's fun to accessorise.

An arm snakes its way round your waist while you admire your reflection. An outlandish and aggressively pink pair of frames rests on your face.

"Beautiful as ever," Samuel eyes follow your movement, "But I'm not sure you need those."

You feel your lips lift at the compliment as you return them to the stand, "How did it go?"

"Fine, still the same prescription. We can go grab some lunch now if you prefer?"

"Wait, hold on," You wander to a collection a few displays over. "I found some glasses that I think would really suit you!"

You hold out a particularly obnoxious pair, horn-rimmed and tortoise-shell. Samuel lets out a snort, and indulges you. He takes off his own stylish and sophisticated glasses and hands them over, his eyes flashing playfully.

As soon as he wears them, you can't help bursting out laughing. He inspects himself in the mirror and snickers too.

"I've worked my way up, just to have my reputation destroyed by these. I'm not sure anyone at work would or could take me seriously."

One after another, you hand him multiple styles. Each somehow more distasteful and objectionable than the last - round and owlish ones, excessively thick purple frames, another comically oversized that takes over half Samuel's face, aviators reminiscent of dodgy men from the 80's.

Between your giggling and his chuckling, the next 30 minutes passes by in a blur.

Upon returning back the final pair, you couldn't help but comment earnestly, "You're so handsome, Sammy. I think you actually could pull off any of these."

Samuel rewards you with a self-satisfied smile, "Come on Y/N, are we done here?"

"Hmm... What about contacts?"

"What about them?"

"Just at the weekend or whatever. Maybe it would be nice to actually see your eyes y'know," You hesitate slightly, "Without a barrier."

Without a barrier? All his life, Samuel had been building a wall around him. An impenetrable fortress. His glasses have become his shield to the world. And now you want him to start to break this down for you?

He reflects on the past 30 minutes of silliness, the days and nights and months and years spent with you. Both the deep, meaningful conversations and the light hearted banter. The secrets and hopes and dreams shared with promises to always remain loyal.

Maybe it would be nice, he agrees.

#dragged into my samuel era screaming and kicking and crying #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism headcanons #samuel seo #samuel seo x reader #big deal golden era #lookism fic #lookism fanfic #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #seo seongun #wannaeatramyeon

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sazzujazzu · 2 months

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Hello, as the days count down and the Bad Batch finale draws closer, may I show to the fine folks of tumblr my first Star Wars OC in 20 years, created thanks to this show? 😃

Too bad, I'm showing them anyway 😊 somberly chilling while listening to their bestie talk.

Please excuse the poor background (I got lazy) and half-finished Tech (I got sad)

there's, uh, a big mess of words under the image because I wanted to put into words the importance this show has for me, and I am bad at doing so.

I want to get some thoughts off my chest, because I have no one in my day-to-day life who cares about the animated Star Wars shows, and especially the Bad Batch. (well, other than my mom, but I don't want to bore her with my rambling too much. she already banned star wars from me once, i won't let that happen again lol)

I can't stop thinking how much I don't want Bad Batch to end.

This show has been so dear to me. I can't remember the last time I've loved something this much.

Before the second season started, I had an artistic block that had lasted way too long. Anything I drew or wrote, mostly turned out a horrible mess after staring at a blank page for hours and hours, if I ever managed to create anything at all. For someone who tends to draw whenever their hands aren't otherwise busy (aka all the damn time), such a block weighed down on my mental health.

Well, then season two happened, and full-on gave me back my love for Star Wars, a love that had somewhat gone out over the last few years. Then, Plan 99 happened, and broke me because again my favorite character "died" (I'm in team Tech lives until I draw my last breath or until proven correct. That chocolate-eyed cutie-pie is alive nothing will convince me otherwise). Pretty much after finishing the episode and staring at a wall for another 30 minutes, I said "nope" and began writing.

I wrote for hours. I believe it's been well over a decade since I last wrote fanfiction, but here I was, creating a Star Wars oc, something I'd last done as a ten-year-old. And now, roughly a year later, I think I've written over a hundred pages of (very self-indulgent) fanfiction with the Batch, and with my oc that I've come to love.

And drawing, oh boy, have I been drawing!

(... Sure, I've mostly been drawing Tech, over and over again, to a point I once actually considered lying and saying "yeah that's my boyfriend haha!" to a man at my job last summer, when asked who it was that I was drawing for maybe fifth day in a row 😂 likely would've been a more acceptable excuse for someone my age. But, I mean... I just really love drawing him, not only because he is my favorite character of maybe all time, but because he is just so fun to draw! And most of all, at least I draw again!)

And it is all thanks to this wonderful show about a bunch of defective and effective copy-paste boys and their sister.

It's probably something many say, but I've always felt like a bit of an outsider. I've felt like I have no place; when I was a kid, my interests were very different from the other kids of [gender assigned at birth], and trying to play with them while inserting my own interests into the games, often didn't go so well. I was... kind of an odd child (although now, older and questionably wiser, knowing that I might actually be autistic, many things make more sense now. me kind of discovering this about myself is also partially thanks to Bad Batch)

Also, growing up trans/non-binary, while not even knowing what that is or having a word for it, didn't really do much to help with the feeling of "I'm different and an outsider because of it". Perhaps it was one more reason I fell in love with Clone Force 99, because I could see some of myself in them. Being different from the "regs".

I love this show, and these fictional people have become my family, and I am not ready to say goodbye to them.

Alright, weird pile of thoughts over. In case someone read all this, uh... thanks 😊

#i'm nervously rambling into the void #the bad batch #the bad batch fanart #star wars oc #jedi oc

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blackquillchillin · 1 month

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For the prompts: 16 or 20 or 42!

20: "Please. For me." "...okay. For you."

Bobby waited, arms crossed as the door opened, and a pair of guards went in. they emerged a few minutes later, one on each side of the Prosecutor, each gripping an arm. heavy chains were set around his wrists and a set around his ankles as well. After three days in solitary, the man looked positively demented. His hair was no longer tied back, flying out in all directions, and his grey eyes, usually clear and bright, glaring out from the shadows cast by his bangs, stared straight forward, focused on....Bobby couldn't tell what. The ever-present shadows under his eyes were larger and darker then ever. The guard on Blackquill's right nodded to Bobby, who returned it, and fell into step beside them, as they headed down the hallway.

Once they reached Blackquill's regular cell, the cuffs were removed, and he was more or less shoved inside, the door clanging shut behind him. Bobby watched him though the bars as the guards moved on, to some other inmate, some other task. Blackquill said nothing, staying more or less where he had stumbled when pushed. It was only after several minutes that Bobby broke the silence.

"Why did you do it?"

The other man did not answer, but he did finally move, sinking onto his cot, and staring once more, past Fulbright, past the stone walls, past everything. Bobby hated it, he wished Blackquill would just close his eyes, or move his gaze, or something-but he had to know. He had to know why. they had been doing so well.....

"Sir. Why did you attack a guard? you were doing so well, I really thought we were making progress-"

-He cut off when Blackquill started to laugh. a single, mono-syllabic "Heh." followed, a moment later by a second one, then a third. Bobby frowned, and found himself holding his sleeves tighter.

"it's not funny."

"Come now," The Inmate's eyes finally focused on Bobby, and he found himself wishing they hadn't, "Asking a prisoner why they bite the hand that beats them? You know the answer to that, surely."

"No! No I don't! Sir, please, rehabilitation don't involve-"

"I'm in no mood to argue with a figment. Move on, move on, I've other apparitions to see."

"w-what?"

"Do you believe yourself the only man who appears to me? the only being who haunts my subconscious? Nay, though the lack of blood is pleasant at least. a whole figment, for a change." His eyes moved past Bobby again, and the awful, crooked grin that had formed disappeared, his brow furrowing. "it's too soon for someone real."

Did....Did he not think bobby was real? Suddenly Bobby's uneasiness was replaced with-well, joined by-concern.

"what..what do you mean by that?"

"It's too soon. No one visits directly after solitary. I won't see anyone real until mess....or time in the yard. I wonder which is next...."

"Won't you see the guards?"

"Oh, yes, how silly of me to overlook my escort who shoved me in a cell and walked away. Bloody hell, you're daft today."

"Today? Do I appear to you on other days?"

"Not usually. Come now, cease the questions. If you ARE real, tell me something I wouldn't know."

"like what?"

"Mm....Tell me of..Tell me of the outside world. What are the lawyers doing? the judges? the little ladies who need to cross the street?"

"I'm....not sure..."

"Please. For me."

"....okay. Okay, I'll tell you."

And that is how Bobby Fulbright spent the last few hours of his day, regaling Simon Blackquill of tales of the free world, with all its mundane normalcy, While Blackquill, eyes half closed, listened to every word.

I hope you enjoyed! I had fun writing it. I don't have a lot of practice writing scenes that take place in the prison, so I hope I did alright. Thank you again to @gigimirasol for sending an ask! I still owe you one more prompt!

#bobby fulbright #simon blackquill #ace attorney #aa5 #aa fanfic #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #my wrtitng #my work #ask game #send asks

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amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix · 8 months

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i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you)

Warnings: Uhhh. Not much. Just some v v light angst, and Jackjack being a teeny tiny bit of a dumbass lil shit. Mentions of alcohol and getting drunk fuk yeah no don't do too much alcohol, kids. body and image insecurities, too.

Pairings: Jackson Wang/Reader

Plot: In another lifetime, another universe, your happy ending has always been in front of you all along.

Genre: light angst, eventual happy ending

And I can still see it all (In my mind)

All of you, all of me (Intertwined)

I once believed love would be (Black and white)

But it's golden (Golden)

And I can still see it all (In my head)

Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed)

I once believed love would be (Burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

(I can never look away)

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

(Things will never be the same)

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

(Now I'm wide awake)

mixtape: all i have left to give - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ending 1

Oooooooohhhhweeeeeee

This is crazy

So much has happened since I last posted.

i got psychiatric help so guess who's on meds now? yay (not)

i mentioned here before that when I write the mixtape series, it's not necessarily in chronological order. I already have a rough draft in my mind of how it would go, and I am already planning to write the prequel to the first part, but it won't necessarily mean that it will come first. I also have an idea of what will happen for the ending(s?), but I have yet to muster the energy to write continuously right now bc so much has happened irl

With that being said, my next part will be a glimpse of one of the "what-if" endings. If it irks you that my writings are all over the place, I'm so sorry but I rly cant force my brain to write at one linear pace. As I always say, I hope I don't disappoint, and I'm so sorry if I do.

Thank you so much for loving my babies and for giving them the time of the day. Every time I get a notification of likes/reblogs/kudos/bookmarks, it warms my heart bc wtf it is more than I ever hoped for

thank you so much once again! this part is for those who are rooting for my babie jackjack because hey, he's a fuckin sweetheart and i love him to bits

just a little trigger warning for some insecurities because this is kinda self-projecting, i'm so sorry T_T

🌅

Soft morning light greets you when you open your eyes.

You've always relished in these times—the seconds or minutes of blank bliss and silence in between waking up and lucidity. These are times of peace before facing the storm of the day.

You stare at the ceiling of the room, the cream-colored walls, then the photos that line up your drawers.

So much has happened these past few months. Sometimes, you still can't believe that you've survived through it, that you powered through it. You genuinely thought it would end up killing you, and that you'd die hurting inside out.

But you lived, and you're happy now.

You turn your head to the side to find him, still slumbering. You take a deep breath and dig your fingers into your palm, afraid that this will all be a dream, and that you'll wake up with sweat on your forehead and blood on your lips and sheets.

You honestly would never have made it without him.

The one and only constant in your life, your ride-or-die.

Jackson.

He had been there through everything—the treatments, the hospitalizations, the relapses, and the recovery. He was there to see you fall apart at 3 a.m., see you struggle with breathing at random times of the day, there to see you bleed out from the love you had (have) for the other men who were supposed to love you back unconditionally.

He was there through everything, and he never once let go of your hand.

Sometimes, you think how it would be if you ended up with them; what would happen? Would you be happier? How would it be different from how it is right now?

But then, you think, they never loved you the way you wished to, the way they should've until you were on the brink of death. There would be too much resentment, too much guilt, too much pain. You would never be truly happy.

You feel guilty thinking about these things. You are genuinely happy— happier even—than you've ever been. Jackson never made you feel like you have to be someone else, like you have to live up to someone's high expectations. You never have to cry again, except when he goes on tour and you miss him, or when you're so happy with him that tears just can't help but make confetti in your eyes.

But then, you and Jackson both know that it is inevitable, that the love for the seven men who were once the center of your soul would never really go away. And he's okay with it, you're both okay with it. You've both made peace that they will always be a part of your life. All that matters is Jackson is your home now, that he's the one that you'll come home to. He's the one that you will make a space for in your heart, and the only one that will occupy it and stay for good.

Jackson is home, and he always will be.

You reach out and carefully brush Jackson's hair away from his still-closed eyes. Moments like this you miss the most when he's away on tour and you can't go with him. It gets lonely, but his coming home with the biggest and proudest smile on his face makes everything worth it.

He is worth it, and he always will be.

You scoot closer to his sleeping figure, wrapping your arm around his waist. Februaries are always cold, so his body warmth is heaven-sent. It is also one of the things you miss during times apart. You grew up in a non-affectionate household, touch-starved to the point that you became touch- repulsed. But after getting to know how Jackson feels like home, you can never get enough of his touch. You can never go for too long without it, and you can say you almost reverted to being touch-starved.

You shift to wrap yourself around him, slinging your leg lightly over his. You hear him groan as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying not to miss him already. You still have two weeks left before he leaves again for his next tour, but you can already feel the creeping sadness and pit in your stomach.

You're getting separation anxiety again. Maybe it's time to talk to your therapist.

Your fingers find themselves curled on his arms lightly, tracing shapes and absently doodling on his skin.

"You're up early," comes Jackson's sleep-laden voice, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

"'m not up yet," you grumble, subtly inhaling the scent of his skin. "And it's already seven AM; not early."

Jackson chuckles. "Okay, okay. No need to get pouty."

You huff. "I'm not pouty," an irony as you can actually feel yourself pout more when he says that. "It's really just not early."

It is early, you actually know it. But you want to spend more time with him before he sets off to wow the whole world again while you stay behind and wait for him to come home, so no, it's not really early.

You feel him kiss your hair. "Ah. I'm still here, but you already miss me." He laughs lightly. "What would you do without me?"

You know it's a joke, but your abandonment issues have been seriously acting up for a while now. You have to swallow before answering.

"I'd die without you," you blink rapidly to stop yourself from crying, trying to keep your tone light. "Terribly, so."

"Hey," Jackson tries to push your shoulder gently to look at your face, but you don't want him to see your crumpled expression.

"Hey, don't cry. It's too early for you to cry." You sniff, not wanting to let go of him. "I'm joking. You can never get rid of me at this point."

"But you can get rid of me," you fail to not sound miserable. "You can find someone else and settle down with them, someone whole."

A pause.

"Someone not broken."

"No." This time, Jackson's tone is firm, almost angry. "I don't like you talking about yourself like this, and I won't get rid of you. Is that what you think of me?"

"No, but you—"

"'But I ' nothing '," he says. He sits you both up and he puts his hands on your shoulders. "I fought nail and tooth just so I can have my happy ending with you. I fought with the law, I fought your soulmates, and I will fight all over again just so I can have this until we grow old and wrinkly. Why would I get rid of someone I've wanted my whole life? That's fucking stupid."

Your lips curl in a slight pout, trembling with all the tears that want to escape. You absently touch your chest, used to the phantom pain that came with the soul-scraping before. It's gone now, but all the things you used to do, used to go through, as well as the painful memories are still here.

"I..." You start, voice hoarse. "Sorry, I just don't want a repeat of that, you know?"

"I know."

"And I know you're not like them, but there are so many reasons things don't work out. And not to be dramatic or what—erm—," you clear your throat, "but I won't survive the next time I go through that again." Not if everything goes into plan, that next step you are planning with him. "It'll kill me."

You won't survive another soul-scraping, you just won't.

"You won't. I won't leave, I promise." Jackson presses a tender kiss on your lips, running his thumb on your cheek as he cradles it gently. "As I said, we'll grow old and wrinkly. We'll be that meme on Facebook where we grow old together and play bump cars with wheelchairs."

You snort softly. "If you damage my rhetorical wheelchair, I'm using yours. You crawl on the ground."

He grins, a lovely sight on his pretty face. "I'll always crawl my way back to you," he croons.

Jackson leans in and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. His hand finds its way inside your top and you flinch unintentionally. He tenses, then pulls away.

"I'm sorry," you hurriedly say.

"Hey," he says, eyes searching your face. "No need to apologize. I'm sorry. We don't need to do anything you don't want to."

"No, no. I want to." You pause, biting your lip. "It's just... my scar." You absently trace your myectomy scar. He looks at you, willing you to go on. "It's ugly." Among all other things.

"You will never be ugly." You open your mouth to retort but he silences you with a serious look. "I love you, scars and all. But as I said, we don't have to do anything. I just want to spend my time with you, and I'm good."

God, you think, I really think I'll marry you.

You surge up with a fierce kiss to his lips, taking your top off before you can change your mind.

"Wait, wait." Jackson puts his hand on yours, stopping you from taking your shirt off. "No."

"No?" You swallow thickly.

"No, not like that," he says hurriedly, seeing your mood shift. "Is it a good day?"

You know what he means, and it is not.

"No," you agree in a small voice. "It isn't."

You've gotten far from your insecurities, but they sometimes come back sneakily, like they did yesterday and today, of all days.

"We can keep your shirt on if you'd like?" he offers.

You take one look at him. Yup, you'll definitely marry him.

"Please?" You implore with your eyes.

He smiles softly. "Then we keep your shirt on."

His smile turns wicked.

"Won't stop me from eating you out from under it, though."

---

"Mark!"

"No," Mark says flatly. "You're not backing out of this."

"But—"

"Do you love him?" he asks.

"Yes!"

"Do you want to marry his ugly face?"

"He's not ugly, but yes!"

"Do you want to spend your lifetime kissing his ugly face?"

"Again, my Jackson is not ugly, but yes, I do!"

"Did you change your mind then?"

"Y—no, I did not!"

"Then why are you backing out?!"

"Because what if he doesn't want to?" [Name] bursts out to which Mark snorts impatiently. "What if doesn't want that for life? That's a lifetime of commitment, Mark. I can't undo that shit."

"You think he would want to?" Mark asks, almost angry, his patience growing thin. He rolls his eyes to heaven when he sees you in near tears.

"He wants to marry your equally ugly face," to which you splutter a 'hey!', "he talks, breathes, and sleeps nothing but [Name], [Name], [Name]." He sighs.

"Do you really think he would let go of you now?"

You know at this point that your fear is redundant and irrational, but you can't help it. Not when your own (ex-)soulmates didn't want you. It took you almost dying, and choosing your dignity and self-respect before they turned around. And even then, it was too late. Your soul is having none of it.

Mark softens at your silence. "Did you talk to your therapist about this?"

You nod. "Yeah. He said that I should start forgiving myself and moving forward and that I should believe that not everyone is like them. Not everyone will leave me."

"He's right. We won't leave you. We're stuck with you, just like how you're stuck with us. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay, good. Now, give me my hug because I just got from a long tiring flight because someone didn't want me to ride her private jet." He glares at you.

You laugh. "I told you, I need to fly here earlier than you since you can't cancel your meeting."

"You could've—I don't know—waited for me, maybe?" He pulls you in a tight hug.

Before you two can pull away, however, you both hear the sounds of Jackson's voice and the door opening.

Oh, shit.

You two freeze on your hug. You don't understand why you did but you just feel guilty, like being caught with your hand down your pants. You and Mark pull away from each other quickly.

"What's this? Hugging without me, huh?" Jackson jokes, but you can hear the slight insinuation in his voice, one that Mark does as well.

"Yeah, I'm stealing your girlfriend, Wang. Watch out." Mark smirks lightheartedly.

This bitch!

Jackson's eyebrow twitches. "You wish." They embrace in a brief hug before he turns to you with a soft smile on his pretty face.

Wow. Years in and you still can't get your heart to shut up over his smile.

"Hey," he says softly. "This is a very nice surprise."

"I missed you and the bed was cold," you pout slightly. "So here I am."

"Ah, I knew it. You just want a bed warmer." In the background, you can hear Mark fake gag, and Jackson gives him the finger.

"No, I want my Jackson not an electric blankie, smartass."

"Your Jackson, huh?" Mark fake gags again, and you smile at Jackson's 'fuck off, Tuan'.

"This is not what I signed up for, so I'm leaving you lovebirds to it."

"About time." This time, it's Jackson who grumbles, and you and Mark both laugh. "Shut up."

---

The next few days of the tour see Jackson busier than ever, and so are you. With the tour coming to its end, you scramble to get the last steps of your surprise into place. After all, Jackson deserves the best, and you don't want to give him any less.

This also means that you both get to see less of each other. You miss him and it sucks, and Jackson sometimes gets to receive the burnt of it, unfortunately.

"Hey. It's okay, everything's going to be okay," he says. You are so close to bursting and just saying fuck it, but you can't, so you let out a frustrated growl.

"It is not, stop saying that again and again." It is not. The local producer and local venue producer are being tough nuts to crack for some unknown reason, and are uncooperative. They are the only remaining people you need in on the plan, so it is taking too much time and effort on your part. Not that Jackson is not worth it, but the headache is just a bitch to deal with. "It really isn't so I ask you to kindly fuck off, Jackson. I don't need you patronizing me right now."

"Hey," he says firmly, his jaw heavy set. "I'm not doing anything, so don't take your shit out on me."

Ah, shit.

"Jacks—"

"Is it because I'm taking much of your time?"

"What?"

"Is it because I'm taking your time away to be with Mark?"

Your jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

"You think I don't see how you spend your time with him? How close you two seem to be nowadays?"

Aw, hell no.

"Jackson, no. What the fuck?"

"No, no. It's okay. You don't need to explain, you know? If you want to be with Mark-hyung, it's fine. I'm not gonna stand in the way."

"What are you talking about? Are you saying I'm cheating on you?" you ask in disbelief.

Jackson shakes his head. "I'm saying that if you want to be with him, you don't need to start picking fights just so we can break up." His eyes turn sad. "I'll let you go, you just have to ask."

Your chest hurts at that, stirring up old feelings you thought you'd never be able to feel again. "And you're gonna let me go, just like that?"

Silence.

You laugh humorlessly. "Wow. And you think of me that way, too."

"[Name]—"

"No." You thank whatever fuck there is that you had the foresight to book a separate room to plan your surprise (not that you sleep in it, with you opting to always sleep beside Jackson since arriving) and take your bag from the chair by the window of the suite.

"Thank you for clearing that shit up. At least I know now where I stand."

Jackson grasps your wrist delicately. "Sweetheart—"

You pull your wrist away from him. "Don't 'sweetheart' me, Jackson." He stops at the sight of the brimming tears in your eyes, the hurt painted in it.

"I trusted you with shit, you knew how I abhor those things you accuse me of. You knew how I hated my mom because of the things she did, and yet you dared think I am like her."

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did, Jackson. Because if you only knew how full I am of you since the day I let those bastards go from my life." You sniff. "It's only and always been you, you, and you. Everyone knew that; everyone knows that."

"I don't—"

"Yeah, you don't. So I'll spare you the time and just leave you be. I never plan to force myself into something or someone, and I don't plan to start now."

Jackson tries to refute that it isn't the case, but you slam the door shut in his face behind you before he can even get a word in.

[ah, these kids. what do i do with you two?]

Jackson looks at the door you just slammed shut in his face, then to the dresser in his suite that you never opened. You two had always been intertwined, but you always gave him his space and privacy. He walks towards it, opens it, and takes the velvet box with the sparkling ring in it.

All I can say is you two are idiots, and everyone will agree with me.

---

"You what?!"

You grumble, shielding your bottle away from Mark. "Please don't shout at me, I'm already having a hard time as it is." You try to pull off your pitiful face, but Mark only makes his own face at you.

To be fair, Mark finds you pitiful, but not in that way. And he kind of wants to punch Jackson in the face right now too because seriously, you and Mark? It's like him and his sisters, what the actual fuck?

He can't blame the man, however. Everyone in the circle knows how Jackson has been wounded by the relationships he was in before, so it's easier for him to switch to defense mode. Jackson has always been prone to leave before he gets left when he feels like the other party is slowly losing interest.

But the dumbass has always been prone to the dumbest dumbassery in the group. And this? This takes the cake, Mark could roll his eyes to heaven.

"And you didn't bother to, I don't know, explain shit to him?" he asks with the patience of a saint.

You pout. You had the audacity to pout and Mark feels the patience slowly slipping away from him. "No. It's not gonna be a surprise anymore if I do."

Holy fuck.

"Are you shitting my dick right now?" he mutters. You only snort and Mark pulls away the bottle from you.

"Hey!"

"Listen to me. It's not gonna be a surprise anymore if you two break up because there'll be no one to surprise. You know he is a dumbass and you decided to be a dumbass too?"

"Hey! He accused me first! I didn't accuse him anything when he shot that sexy ass shoot with the ashes and stuff—"

"—Cruel." Mark supplies helpfully.

"Yes, that. I didn't do that with the main dancer when they've been cute and friendly and shit off cam, and yet he accuses me with you." You belch and gag, and Mark steps away slightly from you to avoid any impending projectile vomiting. "Like 'ew'."

"I agree with you, but how dare you, bitch? Are you saying I'm 'ew'?"

You level him with a look as much as you can with your drunk face, and Mark has never had the urge to headlock a woman before.

"Anyway," you say forlornly, "at least I know where we stand now." You sniff, and Mark feels bad for you (a little).

"No, you really don't. I thought that by now, you would know how he is."

"You weren't there when he said it!" You burst out angrily. "He means it! Do you know how it feels standing there and being practically told that he knows I'll leave him for other people, and that he'll let me?" You burp loudly again. "Me, of all people? When he knew how I detest that shit. With all the things I went through?"

And then you burst into ugly sobs.

[ah, jackson. you really are one dumbass.]

"Hey, hey, no," Mark says, wrapping his arms around you. "Don't cry. You're not allowed to cry. Doctor Im told you you're still healing; you're not even allowed to drink."

"Yet here I am," you say with a shaky laugh that morphs into another sob. "Again."

You're not sure if you're just talking about drinking or the fact that you're on the brink of losing yourself again over lost relationships. It's tiring, really. But it is what it is, as they say.

"Can you—can you please get my bag?" you ask Mark. "By the door, tossed it earlier," you slur.

You've never really shown Mark the ring you want to propose to Jackson with. Mark assumed that it is flashy, and you're never one for flashy things, so you're embarrassed about it.

That's not it, however. Completely the opposite, actually. The engagement ring is totally simple, a silver band encrusted with small diamonds on top. The only flashy thing about it is the bigger diamond heart in the center and the smaller gems that surround it on both sides.

The smaller gems are the highlights, you think. You took them from the necklace with both the birthstones that were gifted by Jackson to you during your first year anniversary and had them cut delicately to fit the ring you had in mind. On the right heart side are your birthstones, while on the left are Jackson's. You know some might find it too feminine, and Jackson might not be able to wear it that much in his line of work, but the ring is the most beautiful thing you have ever created in your life.

And now, Jackson won't be able to see it. That thought brings you to a fresh round of tears.

"Too girly, isn't it?" You ask Mark, who is silent. "And it should be the other way around—he should be the one asking me to marry him. I still would've asked him to marry me with this, Mark. That's how I don't give a shit. I just wanna marry his ugly face, but now I can't."

"You wanna marry me?" Comes a soft voice behind you and Mark. You jerk away, and Mark gently unwraps his arms around you as Jackson steps forward.

"I'll let you lovebirds talk," Mark says as he pulls away, but your wide eyes (as wide as bloodshot eyes can be) are only trained on Jackson. Mark pats Jackson's shoulder with a low 'we'll talk later', and Jackson only nods. It is silent until Mark closes the door behind him.

"You wanna marry me?" Jackson asks again. "You're gonna ask to marry me, [Name]?"

You can only nod, your eyes shut as your tears don't stop falling.

"Stay here," he only says. It's not like you're going anywhere, so you stay put. However, when five minutes turn to fifteen, then to twenty, you start to think that Jackson has either gone to sleep or gone off to god knows where. Before you can even think about getting up and running after him, the door to your suite opens.

"Come here, stand up." Jackson takes your hand and helps you stand up. He wipes your face with his hand, then with the cold cloth that someone hands him (whom you recognize is one of his staff). Other staff start to fuss over you as someone turns on the overhead lights.

"Wait, what?" you ask as someone starts to powder your face. "What's happening?"

You turn to Jackson, who's being ushered into a suit. You are ushered yourself by the few staff he had roped into helping into the other room to change into a tulle sweetheart dress.

"We're getting married."

---

"So, Jackson..." You hear the host through the speakers start his next question as you wait backstage with Mark. Even with the elopement, you're still going through with your plan.

That other plan.

"No," Mark says flatly. "You're not backing out of this."

Here we go again, but this time, Mark is a little less pissed and more exhausted with your shenanigans.

"No, I'm just saying. Maybe I should do this in private instead? This is the equivalent of putting a girl on the spot with marriage proposals, which, for the record, I absolutely detest because fuck having choice and not cornering them into whatever they want, right?"

"While I do agree with you, he'll pee his pants and probably hump you if you do this than to be put off, trust me," Mark says. "And besides, everything is ready. All it needs is the execution."

Mark has a point.

Before you can wimp out again, you hear your name being called to an uproar of cheers. You're lucky Jackson's fanbase is mostly supportive of your relationship since you two came out a few years ago, though it is not without some minor hiccups and a few outrage from the unsupportive ones. What matters however is you lucked out, and you can never be more grateful.

"[Name] [Last Name], ladies and gentlemen!" You hear the host say as you see Jackson's blinding grin when you step out from the backstage.

Oh, you swoon. My smitten darling [Name].

Steady, girl.

"So, Miss [Last Name]—"

"It's Mrs. Wang, actually." You hear gasps from the audience, and Jackson's blinding grin turns lovelier and wider. "We actually got married in secret, and you forgot this at home." You hand him his ring as you grin mischievously.

"Okay, Peeta Mellark." Jackson rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he slips on his ring. "What a way to break it to them."

"My, my." The host fans himself with a wide smile. "Is this what you meant when you told me you'll be getting me a high rating?"

"I hope so," you say sheepishly. "If it doesn't, then no worries. I still have another trick in my hat. Don't you worry."

You look at Jackson and can't help but laugh inwardly at his clueless smile.

Oh, dear.

The interview goes without a hitch, with it mostly centered on your married life. You were originally nervous about how it would turn out, but it had been so far so good. Nobody threw shoes, and all that happened was a little 'booooo' when asked if you had had your honeymoon yet (which not yet, because you were both busy for a while after his tour).

"So, [Name]," the host asks again with a little waggle of his eyebrows. "What is this other trick of yours you mentioned earlier?"

Ah, shit. Here we go.

"Ah." Your smile turns a little serene, and you see Jackson sit up straighter in his seat. Nobody would notice it if they are not in tune with him, but he practically owns your whole soul, and you'd like to think that you do his, too, so you notice it.

"Have I told you my story about my soulmates?"

The host shakes his head. "Pray, do tell."

"Well, not everyone gets lucky with theirs. Everyone knows that." You smile sadly, the audience turning quiet.

"Yes, of course. A very sad fact that everyone is very well acquainted with." The host smiles sympathetically at you.

"I used to think it was the end of the world when mine didn't want anything to do with me. I kept thinking that something was wrong with me, that maybe I was really not worth their time. That maybe I was meant to suffer and die hurting."

You pause, then you look at Jackson. "But then I realize, I have you," you say softly.

You look back at the host.

"What more can I ask for when I have him?"

Your smile turns happier as the audience lets out a quiet 'aww'.

"I really like doing things unconventional and my way so..."

You bite your lower lip as you look once again at Jackson, who has his eyes trained on you and hanging on to every word you say.

"Would you give me the honor of being my forever soulmate, Jackson?"

It was like a time warp. The moment he said yes, cheers erupted, and everything blurred and warped in your ears. All your fears, all the hurt and pain? It was gone.

This is your happy ending, you deserve it, my dear [Name].

Go live it.

---

Meanwhile, somewhere a thousand miles away, a group of young men smile sadly at what could have been, and what was lost. Their chests perpetually ache with the loss of a piece of a soul they can never get back.

#soul bonds #mixtape: all i have left to give #jackson wang/reader #jackson wang fics #miscommunication #got7 fics #got7 jackson

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grumpygreenwitch · 4 months

Text

The Witches and Wizards Job 9 - 10 - 11

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NINE

Morning came virulently early. No one had gotten much sleep, and in the end the team decided it wasn't worth the attempt. A few calls got enough food delivered to bury the kitchen bar under a variety of donuts, egg sandwiches, coffee and tea, and they stared at each other, simply because it wouldn't have been polite to stare at their consultant.

Harry Dresden, Professional Wizard, was sitting at one corner of the bar, eating slowly, looking like the victim of a bad suntan booth accident. He didn't look nearly as bad as he had when Nate had dragged him up to the loft, at least. As if the shower had washed away the burns.

As if they hadn't been real.

"Hey, man." Hardison was holding a bag of frozen peas to his head with one hand, and a smoothie with the other. He looked profoundly hungover as he took a seat between Parker and Eliot. The sweatpants Dresden was currently wearing were his; the shirt was Eliot's. "Thanks."

"No problem," the wizard replied, unfazed.

"Harry," Sophie asked as gently as she would've out of any of them if they'd been hurt on the job, "what happened down there?"

Dresden sighed and shifted minutely. Eliot knew that motion; he'd grown out of it himself many years back as a dangerous telltale, but he knew it. It was how you braced yourself to focus on what needed to be done, away from the pain. It went right into the hitter's mental file about the wizard, along with the scarred knuckles, the one bandaged hand, the ready way in which Dresden shifted so his back was nearly always to a wall.

"You found a Burning Witchwell." Nate scoffed minutely, but Dresden didn't seem to mind.

"A Burning… ," Sophie repeated carefully.

"Witch's Well," Dresden enunciated more carefully. "Shorthand, Witchwell."

"Is it still dangerous?" Nate asked.

"Probably. I'll go down in a bit and contain it," Dresden sipped at his cup. "It's a trap, a booby trap."

"Can't you destroy it, dismantle it?" Nate insisted.

"I can try." The wizard glared minutely at the mastermind. "Look, you gotta understand, I was not expecting to find a piece of arcane magic on my first night in Boston. Witchwells are incredibly old magic. I've only ever read of them, I've never even known of someone in the past four hundreds years with the chops to make one."

Sophie threw Nate a quelling look before she turned to Dresden once again. She was both amused and concerned that, at the moment, he looked very much like Parker did: frustrated, restive and angry. The wizard knew there was an enemy before him but he couldn't see it, couldn't target it, couldn't act. There was a great deal of physicality to the man; he was obviously rusty when it came to dealing with people, he'd proved that amply in Chicago, when he'd been about as tongue-tied in front of her as a schoolboy, but he was also used to the world lashing out at him while he had to stand there and take it. Parker was mad that Hardison had gotten hurt and there was no one she could hurt back in retaliation; Harry was just mad that someone had gotten hurt on his watch. "Harry, what exactly is a Burning Witch's Well? How is it a booby trap?"

The wizard sighed deeply. "The first thing you have to understand is that there are laws for me, just as there are for everyone else. There's a lot less for me," he said calmly, "but the penalties are a lot heavier. I can bend a lot of them to help you because you already know there's weirdness going on. I can twist some more because you've been put directly in the line of fire, and because honestly, I don't think anyone's going to be able to look you up for an inquest. But there are still questions I won't be able to answer."

"That's not what we hired you for," Nate protested, knowing it wouldn't matter but still wanting it on record.

Unsurprisingly, Sophie threw him a quelling look before turning back to the wizard. "Go on."

"You've read those fairy tales where someone finds a magic book or a magic cauldron, and read the inscription on it, and it activates?"

"'Speak, friend, and enter'," Hardison murmured.

"It works like that. A normal Witchwell is any item, any thing that's been empowered so you read the command words on it and it activates. It does the one thing it's supposed to do, and it turns off. Very neat, very clean - and very hard to make, because, I mean… Just like any other piece of machinery, anything magical needs power to run. You plug in a coffee maker, you charge a phone, you put batteries in a flashlight; magic's no different. A Witchwell doesn't need any of that. All the power it needs comes from its making, from it being used."

Hardison perked up; this sounded suspiciously like a Rule. He liked Rules; science and technology were full of Rules. Hacking wasn't even breaking the Rules so much as it was applying them in new and exciting ways. To hear that magic had Rules was exactly what he'd been hoping for. "Like a Rolex."

"Say what?"

"There's a rotor, a little pendulum thing, inside most Rolex watches," Hardison explained. "You don't need a battery, you just need to wear the watch to keep it going."

Harry looked surprised at this bit of trivia. "You can do that?"

Nate stepped in. "So this thing downstairs," he declared, trying to shepherd the conversation back in place. "It's going to keep running forever?"

"No," the wizard said forcefully. "It's going to run whenever someone reads what it says on it."

"I didn't read it, I couldn't," Hardison said immediately.

"But you tried," Harry said, not unkindly. "That's where the fernflower comes in."

"I'm very curious about this 'fernflower'," Nate said mildly.

Harry gave the mastermind a suspicious look. Apparently he'd already learned that 'mild', when it came to Nate Ford, meant danger. "For starters, it's not a real plant."

Nate pinned a vaguely murderous look on the wizard.

"Harry," Sophie was trying not to laugh. "You and Hardison didn't get hurt by an imaginary flower."

"The fernflower didn't hurt him, or me." He gestured, trying to ferry his own thoughts back into a semblance of order. "Fernflower's a flower of the Nevernever, the world on the other side, fairies, all th-"

"Fairies are real?!" Parker interrupted him.

Dresden closed his eyes and fought to focus. "Yes, they are, no, they're not nice, no, they don't grant wishes, if you see one, run."

"Why? What would you do if you saw one?" she challenged.

"Run," Dresden replied earnestly without missing a beat. "It's rare even there. It only grows in places of power, places were magic naturally gathers. It's that plant you hear about in fairy tales that gives you magical powers, but only for a little bit. It lets you talk to animals, protects you from curses or," he sighed, looking at Hardison, who immediately realized the cause-and-effect involved.

"It lets you read magic," the hacker said slowly, testing the words even as he spoke them.

"That's the booby part," the wizard admitted.

"Because even if whoever found the cylinder didn't know anything about magic, they'd still activate it." Hardison lowered the bag of peas. "That's nasty, Dresden."

"That's the harmless bit," the wizard told him wryly, "hangover aside. The killer in there was the night's breath."

"Let me guess," Nate pointed out dryly. "Another plant that doesn't exist?"

"Oh, no, you can grow night's breath on this side," Dresden replied in the same tone. "It's just illegal and if you do grow it a man in grey with a big sword's gonna show at your doorstep, torch your garden and cut your head off."

There was a very long beat of silence.

"That brought up so many questions I don't even know where to begin," Sophie declared, stunned. Nate scoffed and worked on refilling his cup.

"I got one," Eliot stepped in. "Dresden, you washed off the burns. You were covered in blisters. Hardison was covered in blisters. They were real."

"They sure hurt like it," Hardison muttered.

"But they still washed off. You're hurt, but you're not hurt as bad as you were."

"He doesn't actually have magic." Dresden pointed at Hardison. "Night's breath burns magic, corrodes it. In his case, it burned off the fernflower, not him."

"And in your case?"

"I sloughed off what it had damaged. A bit like scouring a wound that's gone bad; it's not pleasant, but at least the stuff underneath's healthy. And I'm thinking I can't afford to take my time healing, if you're finding Burning Witchwells just lying around."

The fridge began to rattle.

"Getting hurt doesn't work like that," Eliot protested tightly.

"Stuff from the Nevernever doesn't last on this side," the wizard countered. "It needs a power source, energy, will, same as anything else. For starters, the fernflower. But once that burned off, all it needed was belief. If…" He trailed off, staring at Hardison in sudden befuddlement.

"Alec Hardison." Hardison put aside the smoothie and offered his hand.

"Harry Dresden." Dresden shook it.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"You bet." Neither man missed a beat. "If I could get to Hardison before he realized what the night's breath had done, before it had time to cement itself in his mind, I knew he'd be fine."

Hardison started laughing a bit. "You had to catch me before it got compiled." He looked terribly pleased. Despite his words to Parker or Nate, Hardison had expected a hoax and a riddle in equal parts. What he had never, in his wildest imaginings, had expected, was that he (and Arthur C. Clarke) had been right. But he was, they were. In his own way, the partially singed Chicago beanpole was just a different sort of hacker, with a different language, with different tools. Just like Hardison was a master of his own science, so was Dresden. Dresden's tech was just incompatible with everything else.

The big ol' monolith was indeed just a different breed of computer.

"I think I'd like to know what's going on now, if it's not too much trouble," the wizard said evenly, looking at Sophie and Nate.

Surprisingly, it was the mastermind who replied to the request. "You go lock that canister down," he told Dresden. "By the time you get back hopefully we'll have hard copies of everything so we don't have any more screen mishaps -"

The coffee-maker chose that moment to chirp sadly and shut down.

"Yup." Dresden hopped to his feet.

"Eliot, go with him," Nate directed.

"Alright."

"Can I come?" Parker asked hopefully.

"Are you good at following directions in a hurry?"

"The sort of directions people give in a hurry, yes."

A smile twitched along the wizard's mouth, making him look younger and handsome for the briefest of moments. "Can't argue with that condition. Come on."

TEN

If Parker and Eliot had been expecting to see some magnificent display of magical fireworks as their contractor dealt with the canister, they were sorely disappointed. Dresden stepped warily enough into the room, and examined everything else: the table, the camera, the rumpled tablecloth on which the canister rested - everything but the canister itself.

"You got any duct tape?" he asked Eliot, further confusing both thief and hitter. Then, with utmost care, he taped a piece of cardboard from a box of straws on top of the inscription of the canister.

"That's it?" Eliot asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," the wizard shrugged. "Can't read it, it can't activate." He shook the canister slightly; they all heard something sloshing in there, and Dresden grimaced. "I don't like that sound, though." He wrapped the canister in the tablecloth, duct-taped that down as well, set it back down on the table and dragged a sharpie out of a pocket in his weather-beaten duster. He drew a long, deep breath.

Then he sketched a near perfect circle on the table and began to sketch swift, unrecognizable scribbles around the perimeter.

Parker brightened up. "What are you doing?"

"Making it so the owner can't track this thing to here," Dresden replied distractedly. "At least not without warning me that they're doing so. It's a warding circle." He gave them both a very level look. "Whoever did is very, very powerful. Powerful enough that just their image, not even their presence, is messing with your equipment. I doubt I can stop them if they really want their little death bottle back, but I can at least be here to get a good look when they come for it." The fingers of Dresden's bandaged hand twitched restlessly.

With Eliot carrying the camera, they headed back up to the loft. Rather than gathering before the bank of screens, they surrounded the kitchen bar once again, cleared of food and buried instead in any number of documents, printouts and paperwork.

Dresden picked up a chair and slid it back and away a whole two feet when Eliot put the camera down on the table. Nate shot the wizard a pointed look. "All done?"

"As much as it can be without my workshop," Dresden admitted.

"What do you need from your workshop?" Nate asked distractedly as he read from a very official-looking folder.

"The list is endless… Is that… Is that a police report?"

"No." Nate tipped his chin vaguely at the bar. "That's the police report. This is the insurance investigation report."

Dresden's mouth worked emptily for a moment.

"Harry," Sophie said mildly. "I think it's time we told you what we know."

"That'd be nice," he admitted, not quite managing to keep the doubt out of his tone or his expression. It quickly changed to disbelief as Hardison began speaking, even though every now and again the hacker got sidetracked into grumbling while he dug through the mountain of paperwork to find some tidbit or another.

"Is it magic?" Sophie asked into a brief silence when Hardison finished speaking.

"What? Yes." Dresden shook himself. "Yeah, of course it is. I knew that the moment I realized you'd found a Witchwell. Of course there's magic involved."

"You look so unconvinced, it's all," she pointed out.

"I'm not unconvinced, I'm -" He hesitated visibly, and then smiled wryly. "The people who hire me rarely tell me everything they know. Or anything at all."

Nate set a hand on the papers, looking deeply thoughtful. "Honesty, mister Dresden. I believe I mentioned that before."

"You did." Dresden said nothing else. He could feel the mood around the table sharpening, every eye coming to rest on Ford.

"You know what bothers me?" the mastermind said at last.

"That people nearly died?" Sophie suggested.

Nate flapped a hand at her. "That doesn't bother me, that upsets me. Very different."

"That they could have ruined the artwork?" Dresden suggested meekly.

"Argonite systems are designed to be completely safe to the art," the mastermind told him distractedly, picking up and tossing two stapled pages on the center of the table. "The Tetryakov Gallery is delighted, actually, that the Gardner Museum was willing to kill in order to protect the collection."

"Is that… Is that normal?"

"They're Russians, Harry," Sophie explained, leaning closer. "If you really want to see cutthroat, you should try to get an art loan from the Egyptians. Or the Japanese."

"What bothers me," Nate said firmly, "is that we found the cylinder at all." Silence fell around the bar. "Nothing else was this sloppy, not even the ones that could've gotten away with it."

"Rush job," Eliot murmured.

"Why?" Sophie asked. "What changed, what was different?"

"We were there," Parker pointed out.

"We aren't the target." Nate shot that one down. "We hadn't even taken the job at that point."

"Fedorov was there." Eliot picked up their dossier on the Russian enforcer and threw it atop everything else. "He did say this has been targeting people from their side."

Nate paused to consider that.

"I have been meaning to make time for the Sokolov collection, but I am a busy man, mister Ford."

"Fedorov might be a target, but this wasn't for him. He'd planned this visit ahead of time; they would have known he was coming, it wouldn't have been sloppy."

"The woman," Sophie murmured. "Baba Yaga."

Nate grimaced openly, then visibly braced himself. "Dresden, you're up. What can you tell us about Baba Yaga that we don't already know?"

"That I hope it's not her? If she is, there's next to nothing I can do to help you. You could call in a dozen wizards and they still wouldn't be able to help you." Suddenly aware that he had the team's attention, the wizard exhaled resignedly. "Stories and fairy tales aside, Baba Yaga is… a single step down and sideways from a god. Just like prayer and belief, and time, and a bunch of other variables empower a god, she's the same way. She depends on people to empower her, yes, but she's also been around so long that she has gained other sorts of power, magic, knowledge, alchemy, favors. She used to be a kind of litmus test for royalty, not just Russian, but most of the Slavic bloodlines. The Royal had to either trick her or survive her to prove they were worthy of the throne."

"And if they didn't?"

"She ate them," Parker replied before Dresden could.

The wizard, looking sheepish, had to agree. "She ate them."

"She ate p- like, for real she ate people?" Hardison demanded confirmation.

"You'd be surprised how many things out there think we're just convenient little walking snacks," Dresden said, voice tight. "But. It's entirely possible that she also just ate them metaphorically, like… eating their magic, eating their mind, their luck, their knowledge, eating half a dozen things that could, would, leave them alive. Just not in a way they'd appreciate."

"Better to just get eaten," Eliot muttered, daunted.

"Do we agree, then, that she's the target?" Sophie asked.

"No, we agree on nothing just yet, "Nate protested. "Only that she was there, unexpectedly. Someone saw a shot and they took it. So why was she there to begin with?"

"The portrait." Parker rummaged through the mound of paper until she found the printout of Nate's photograph, and frowned minutely at it. "She really does look upset."

"Can I see that?" Dresden asked politely, and Parker surrendered the printout. He squinted at it. "Do you have a bigger one?"

"Sure, the one hanging on a wall at the Gardner Museum, why?" Nate told him flippantly.

"This." Dresden stood up to move closer to the table, then hesitated. Hardison picked up the camera and put it aside, and the wizard set the paper down, pointing at the barely visible flash of green under the man in black's coat. "This is magic."

"How can you tell?" Sophie moved closer.

"I can't, that's why I want a closer look. But the setting around it, that silver, diamonds, whatever it might be? They just saw me draw something like it downstairs. A warding circle."

"Who's the man?" Eliot asked. "Did we figure that out?

Nate stared at the printout. "He was there, too."

"You saw him?" Sophie turned to look at him.

"I'm… not sure." The mastermind closed his eyes, trying to remember that moment. Motes of dust in the golden sunlight, barely stirring. The quiet murmur of a dozen admiring conversations. The portraits all around. Sophie nearby. Parker. Fedorov. The old woman.

The man, passing by the open doorway before the shutters slammed down.

Nate opened his eyes and shook his head. "I saw someone that looked like him, but it was just a quick glimpse. It could have been anything."

"Harry, who is he?"

"He could be anyone, a Royal, a pupil. It's said she took on apprentices every now and again."

"An asshole. That's what Fedorov said." Parker cocked her head. "I kinda agree."

"Hardison, did you get a chance to go through the security camera footage?" Nate shuffled through the paperwork.

"No, because every time I tried, my failsafes started beeping. How do you- is there any technology you can use?" the hacker demanded of Dresden.

"I've got a landline, and a VW Beetle," the wizard was trying not to sound amused at Hardison's plaintive demand. "Anything old. The older the better. Pre-WWII is pretty much guaranteed to work fine."

"Oh, my god, you want me using…" Hardison sighed in exasperation, hanging his head for a moment. "Fine. Fine, I guess backwards-compatible means we have to go way back." He looked at Nate. "I gotta go shopping, but I can have something set up by lunch."

"Parker and I could take Harry to the museum," Sophie suggested.

"Why? The painting's not there anymore." When everyone looked at her, Parker shrugged. "The MET demanded we move the collection to secure storage, and the Gardner doesn't have the vault space. It's in the MFA vaults now."

"How long would it take you to get in there?" Nate asked without hesitation.

"I can be in and out with it by lunchtime, too."

"No, I don't want you to steal the painting, Parker. You and your friend worked too hard to get this loan set up. How long would it take you to get yourself and Dresden into the vault?"

"Oh." She turned to look at him. "Can you make yourself invisible?"

"Uh, no. That's a little involved, and I don't have my workshop."

She huffed. "Magic's not very fun, is it?"

"Parker, how long would it take you to break into the vault if there were no other security concerns?" It was Sophie's turn to look like she was thinking hard.

The thief thought on it and shrugged. "Nine minutes from the front door to the vault. It's a Milwaukee 2300, they're a little temperamental sometimes."

Sophie turned to look at Nate. "We don't need anything from the vault. We just need Harry to get in, have a look and get out."

Nate paused to digest that. "The Mona Lisa?" he suggested. Sophie's smile told him he'd guessed right.

"Mix in a little Golden Fiddle, and we could probably go as long as twenty minutes before the police are even called."

"Hardison, how many decent fakes can you give me in," Nate checked his watch, "five hours?"

The hacker looked delighted. "Give me six and you can have a hundred solid."

"Lunchtime, then." Nate nodded and moved to the door, where Sophie was already waiting for him. "Dresden, make your list."

"My list?"

"You keep saying you need your workshop, which is fair, but I need you working at full efficiency. Make your list. I doubt it's endless but hey, we like challenges around here." The mastermind pointed. "Parker's going to run you through a little escapade -"

"Are we breaking into a museum vault?!" The wizard sounded a little indignant, and a lot full of disbelief.

"Well, yes," Nate admitted cheerfully, "but we're not stealing anything," he added, as if that made everything better, and walked out of the loft.

ELEVEN

The con went off just after lunch. It gave the team time to set up a few failsafes, and gave their hired wizard a chance to stuff his pockets with a variety of very strange things.

Around 3 PM, with the wind rushing down Huntington Avenue and the trains of the Green Line clattering back and forth, the nondescript white van finally found a parking spot a little bit away from the entrance to the museum. There was a sparse crowd hanging around, mostly art students waiting for the brief period when admittance was free. A great many of them had sketch pads and were busily putting down, in broad charcoal strokes or distracted color lines, the ephemera of the people passing them by. The rear doors of the van swung open. "Ladies and gentlemen!" A powerfully built man in faded jeans, heavy steel-toed boots and a comfortable jacket sat on the edge of the van's bed, his voice pitched to carry and catch the attention of those around him, his good looks and the peaceable, charming half-smile he wore like sunlight set to keep it. "How about we engage in some mischief!"

He gestured to the back of the van, where canvases sat in neat, orderly rows, hanging from a specialty shelf. "I have one hundred and twenty pieces of art here. Twenty bucks a pop, only one per customer, no refunds, no returns, no buyer's remorse." The man reached into the rack, gently dislodged one of the smaller canvases, and set it on his lap.

A sigh went up from the crowd. Renoir's 'Madeleine', one of the artist's smallest portraits, well known to be in a private Louisiana collection, gazed soulfully at them. "At least one of them," the man told the crowd while he had their attention, "is the real deal."

Gasps followed that proclamation. "Yeah, right!" Someone yelled. A crowd was beginning to gather around the back of the van.

Eliot grinned merrily. "You don't gotta believe me, man." He set the Renoir aside, reached for a larger canvas. The crowd cried out in disbelief. Titian's 'Salome' stared them all down haughtily. "It's your buck against my bang. You can just walk away."

"How much for the 'Salome'?" a woman's voice shouted from the crowd.

"Twenty bucks for each of the nine."

"Can I buy four?"

"One a pop."

"I'll give you fifty each for four of them," another man exclaimed, rushing up to the van.

"Nope, twenty each, one per customer."

"I can just come back," the man protested.

"My man, you're gonna what, take it off the frame and roll it up to hide it in your shirt? Titian's 'Salome'?" Eliot pinned a level gaze on the man, who caved pretty much immediately. He still passed out a twenty, and Eliot readily surrendered the canvas. "Pleasure doing business with you."

The crowd began to close in. Seemingly at random, Eliot grabbed another canvas and brought it forth.

Every voice went profoundly silent. The hitter peeked around at the painting. A masterpiece, missing since World War II, stared back at him. "Oh, that one." His grin was pleasant, his blue eyes full of cheer. "Got four of those."

"Twenty, I got a twenty!" A young woman surged breathlessly forward.

"You got it, sweetheart. Wanna wipe your fingers before you grab it, though," he pointed out, offering her a tissue so she could scrub charcoal dust off her hands.

The crowd detonated. People rushed forward, chatting, exclaiming, questioning. It was a lottery, yes, but at 100-to-1 odds it was brutally effective as bait. Word went out. Passersby detoured. Not everyone was buying, not everyone was convinced that any of the paintings were real, rather than merely exceptional copies. Arguments exploded discussing brushstrokes, pigments, styles.

Jessamine Lochlin fought her way to the front of the crowd. "One 'Salome'," she demanded breathlessly. "And I'll have you know this is just the worst -"

"One 'Salome' for the gorgeous young lady." Eliot turned the full force of his charm onto the young curator. "Picked it special just for you."

Lochlin went pink to the roots of her hair, her righteous indignation choking out with a squeak. By the time she recovered she was short a twenty, richer by a highly suspicious canvas, and the horrible man peddling a potential masterwork out of the back of a van had moved on to argue with two people who each wanted a copy of 'Madeleine' - except they wanted the same copy.

She huffed angrily, and pressed her mouth into a thin, undecided line. Some part of her still wanted to tell the man fifty different kinds of whatfor. A tiny part of her wanted another one of those gorgeous grins, but she stepped on that part with angry determination.

Most of her, however, was whispering very loudly. What if it's true?

That was the part that won, eventually. It would have won in any of the people there, most of whom loved art in one form or another. She turned and fought her way through the crowd, half-running, half-speedwalking to the entrance to Boston's Museum of Fine Arts, rushing through the afternoon crowds and the beautiful displays without seeing either.

"Jessamine!" A familiar voice, a soft Russian burr, called out to her, and the curator turned in both surprise and exasperation. It was the Russian woman, Iggy's friend, the curator, apparently admiring the Japanese exhibit. "Hello, what a pleasant surprise."

"Oh, hi!" Lochlin beamed at the woman, paused exactly three seconds, not even listening to what she was saying. "Bye!" She ran on, leaving the other curator open-mouthed and puzzled. She burst into the main laboratory. "Michael, I need your Titian database!"

There were two men currently in the room, a vast, airy, sealed space full of sedately humming, dormant machinery under blue halogen lights. One was an older man, lanky and silver-haired, the unruly mane braided at his back. He had an indecent amount of stubble and a lab coat over a tee telling the world that finger-painting was an acceptable form of art, the writing surrounded by prehistoric hand stencils. The other was a short, stocky man with little hair on top of his head, but an impeccably groomed silver beard and moustache, a fine button-down shirt and slacks under his own coat. He sputtered in surprise at the invasion. "Jess, what on Earth -"

She hefted 'Salome' and while she didn't quite slam it on the work table between the two men, it was a close thing.

They gaped at it, speechless.

"There is a man out there selling these out of the back of a van. He's promised one's the real deal, I bought a 'Salome', and I need your Titian database, and then I need your Raphael database because he has a 'Portrait'."

"A portrait?" The lanky man straightened up. "The 'Portrait'?!"

Lochlin nodded intently.

"Fakes. All fakes. A conman's game, Eli, don't you dare, Elijah!" The other man was already running out. Michael Erlkist, one of the MFA's most seasoned curators and its Egyptian and Fertile Crescent expert, scoffed. "They're all fakes, they have to be," he protested at Lochlin.

"Michael!" she all but shrieked at him.

"Alright, alright!" The man moved over to one of the computers. "Mel isn't here, though, Jess. She's the Titian specialist, none of us are near as good."

The young curator paused, struck by the truth of that. As much science as one could apply to telling the difference between an original and its replicas, verifying artwork, particularly paintings, was still a matter of skill, of finesse, of expertise acquired on the field. "We're plenty good, you and I."

"I like mummies and you do watercolors." His tone was dry and deadpan. "And you bought this out of the back of a van."

"Michael, he has a 'Portrait'."

"Everyone always has a 'Portrait'."

"Are you willing to take that chance? The one in a million chance that it's the real 'Portrait'? That this is the real 'Salome'? He has nine 'Madeleine's!"

"'Madeleine' is in a private collection in Louisiana," he retorted primly.

"Is it? Would they have said anything if they'd lost it, if it got stolen?"

"Jess, what do you want?" He demanded impatiently.

"I want to know if this is the real 'Salome'!"

"What if it is?" Without letting her answer, he asked, "What if it isn't?"

"If it isn't that means another chance that one of the 'Portrait's is real," she told him with hyperbolic focus.

That shut him up. He turned and typed furiously on the computer. "This isn't going to work, you know. We know the theory, the basics. Never mind that no one can authenticate a painting without taking at least a few hours to do so. You need someone with more expertise, who's actually worked with other collections."

She huffed angrily at him, but couldn't dispute that point. Chewing on her lip, a sudden idea occurred to Lochlin. "Get started with the analysis, I'll be right back."

"Oh, what now," he moaned.

She was already gone, sprinting past the late afternoon crowds and looking about desperately. She nearly ran down a woman and her two kids as she closed in on her target. "Hey! Hi. Hello. Ekaterina, right?"

Ekaterina Yegorov turned and smiled her calm, steady smile at the younger curator. "Please, Jessamine, Kate is fine. Ekaterina is for formal occasions and for customers, you do not need to -"

"That's nice. Have you ever curated Titian?"

"Oh, another personal favorite we share, is it?" The Russian brightened up at once. "The detail work on 'Flora' is just so exquisite -"

"Good. Come with me."

Ekaterina found herself all but hauled along, her sensible heels clacking a harried staccato on the marble floors, her confusion warring with her implacably calm demeanor. Lochlin dragged her past several guards and security locks and very nearly shoved her into the lab.

"Jessamine Esther Lochlin, you do not bring strangers into my lab!" Erlkist cried out.

"She's not a stranger! She's an independent curator. She's good, too, I should know, I've spoken to her before! And she knows Titian."

Both curators turned to look at Ekaterina, who shrugged delicately. "My work is discreet, but not secret," she declared, flicking her fingers to the computer. "You can find it if you search for it."

"Let me just do that, if you don't mind," Erlkist replied with stiff, frantic courtesy, turning back to the computer and tripping over his own fingers.

"Between the three of us, we can surely tell -" Lochlin hissed impatiently at him.

"Ah-buph-buph-buph," he shushed her. "You brought a stranger into my lab, Jessamine Lochlin," he accused her irately, but equally sotto-vocce.

"We need more eyes on this," she snapped. The screen suddenly began to load a vast list of responses to Erlking's query. "Besides, she's obviously not a stranger," she declared, gesturing sharply.

They stared; they read. Ekaterina Yegorov was, as she'd pointed out, discreet but not a secret. Her work was there to be found, everywhere, from small private collections to some names that made both the curators glance nervously at her over their shoulders.

It didn't matter if they were being subtle enough or not, she wouldn't have caught them: Yegorov was curiously examining the 'Salome' Lochlin had left on the table. Lochlin elbowed Erlking minutely, and they both turned as covertly as they could to watch as idle curiosity became radiant focus.

Yegorov began to mutter in Russian. She wouldn't touch the painting, obviously, but she paced back and forth along three sides of the table, leaning close and squinting fiercely at it from each side she could reach. "Bozhe moi," she breathed after a moment, her expression stunned and her voice strangled, "is this 'Salome'? I thought we had lost it to some, some," she sought angrily for a foul enough word, "selfish private collector."

Lochlin gave Erlking a triumphant look.

"That is not proof!" he protested. "That is one opinion out of three -"

Elijah Randall burst into the lab, wheezing, his face red, carrying a canvas. "Oh, my god, I just bought the 'Madeleine' for twenty bucks out of the back of a van." He laid the canvas down on the table next to 'Salome' and leaned down, his cheek nearly on the table, making frantic little noises.

"It's a fake! Elijah, you know this con! We all know this con! This is Brooklyn all over again!"

"Wasn't one of those real?" Yegorov pointed out meekly.

"I know Renoir, Michael!" the lanky man fired back. "Oh, my god, I touched it, where are the glov - Sorry about the 'Salome', Jess.

"But," Lochlin blinked at him. "'Salome''s real."

Everyone in the lab came to a dead stop. He sputtered a question he couldn't finish. Lochlin gestured at Yegorov.

"Obviously I would need to go into more detail," the Russian woman admitted. "But I would readily offer my word that this is the real 'Salome'.

Eli and Jess crossed a look. "He's got multiple originals," she breathed.

"He's got a 'Portrait'," he choked.

"Who's got a portrait?" Yegorov asked in confusion.

"Everyone always has a 'Portrait'!" Erlking yelled. "It's the most counterfeited painting in the history of painting! Everyone wants to be the one who finds it, undamaged, safe, famous!"

"Wait, the 'Portrait'?" The Russian woman's attention sharpened all at once. "'Portrait of a Young Man'?" she asked Randall.

He nodded breathlessly.

"They're fakes! They're all fakes!"

Yegorov looked at 'Salome'.

They all looked at 'Salome'.

Yegorov looked at 'Madeleine'.

They all looked at 'Madeleine'.

"Um, I think, if you do not mind, I will go -" she said most politely, inching for the door.

Randall and Lochlin sprinted past her and raced out.

"No, don't -!" Erlking was too polite a creature to swear openly, but his face was blotchy and his expression was angry. "Stay right there!" he yelled at Yegorov, for lack of any other target to take the brunt of his mood. She jumped and nodded warily. He snatched for his coat and ran after his peers.

The lab was silent, only the quiet whisper of technology surrounding the lone woman.

Sophie gave the curators ninety seconds to get out and succumb to the mob mentality Eliot had provoked outside before she opened the door and peeked out, just in time to see Parker and Dresden coming up to her. "You are going to wreck this place," he told the wizard almost gleefully.

"I'm already breaking into a museum full of priceless art," Dresden shot back dryly. "Destruction of property is low on the list of crimes I'm committing today."

"Oh, you'll be fine, Harry," she grinned wickedly at him, holding the door open for them. While Parker could have breached the security defenses of the MFA, Sophie infiltrating instead had shaved nearly three minutes off their timeline. "It's just computers, machines."

Harry was staring all around him with a little grimace, trying to stay dead center of the room and as far away from anything digital-looking as possible. "The computers aren't important?"

"Not as much as the art. They can replace a spectrograph." Sophie put on gloves while Parker moved to the far end of the lab, where a door stood discreetly to one side, a lock blinking sedately at them all. "'Salome' can never be replaced," the grifter murmured, picking up the canvas with utmost care and setting it aside, safely out of the way.

Dresden blinked at her. "You m- You mean it's real?!"

"Yes, of course. The Golden Fiddle only works if some part of what you offer is real, Harry. Normally you have a fiddle, but sometimes you have to get a little creative."

"So this is the one real painting you had in there?"

"God, no," Sophie took off the gloves and pocketed them. "This con was geared toward people who know their art, Harry. One real work wouldn't have fooled them." The lock, under Parker's ministrations, beeped cheerily and the door hissed open to a tiny room that looked very much like an airlock, since it actually was one. "There's seven originals," Sophie explained.

"What is it you guys do again?" Dresden croaked hoarsely.

"We're past the lab," Parker said mildly.

From his spot in the service parking lot behind the museum, Hardison stared at the screen and the chatter he was getting from the earbuds of the team. There was an almighty amount of feedback trying to whistle into the collective channel from Sophie's line, which he took to mean she was the one currently closest to Dresden. Giving the wizard an earbud had nearly blown the other five; Hardison was sensible enough not to try a second time, but everything in him itched to know one of his teammates, however temporary, was in there without communications, without support. It made him twice as aware of anything else that might clue him as to Dresden's location and general state of being. When Parker spoke, he was ready. "Nate?"

"Internal power's off." Their mastermind had never been the sort to shy away from getting his hands dirty - literally, in this case, when he'd had to hunt down the immense generators that supplied power to the security systems of the museum and do mean things to them. He rubbed grease off his hands and scowled minutely. So much effort wasted for a hunch of 'magic'. "Eliot, how're you holding up?"

"Oh, we're fine, Nate." Normally a Gold Rush would have run with two people, but Jessamine Lochlin already knew three of the team's members, and Hardison had been needed elsewhere. Eliot, shuffling into the van to reach canvases further back, was having a blast with his current partner. "Dresden's security's working like a charm. Right, Mouse?" The immense Temple dog, sitting shotgun in the van, whuffled; after those gigantic jaws had caught and delicately held onto the hand of someone trying to break into the van, no one else had tried.

Hardison shut off the external power feeding into the lab area. Nothing much seemed to change for two of the three people stepping out of the airlock into a dimly lit hallway. For Parker, it was as if an incredibly loud world had gone abruptly silent. Chem-detectors, bubbling microscopically to themselves, went quiet. The delicate subsonic zap of the laser grid faded. The heat sensor began to cool with inaudible pings. Only the lights that dotted the hallway beyond the airlock, which ran on their own dedicated batteries, remained.

She led the way at a quick trot, Sophie a step behind, Dresden three. One of the lights above them crackled and fizzled out, and both women turned to glare at the wizard, who shrugged awkwardly. "Are you seriously going to crack a museum vault in nine minutes?"

Parker grinned at him. "I could do it in four, but I'm not gonna." She lifted a keycard with a picture of a stocky, older man, balding, with a neat beard and moustache. "Hardison, we're here."

"Restoring power now," Hardison replied. The lights brightened. The lock next to the door blinked back to life. Parker ran the card through it and the immense vault door clicked and clanked loudly as several bolts slid open.

"Sophie, tell Dresden to move away from you," Hardison said suddenly into the line. "The feedback's getting bad."

"He is away from us," she replied as Parker dragged the immense door open, glancing at the wizard, who was five steps away and looking decidedly uncomfortable with the proceedings.

Hardison chewed on his lip. "He might be affecting the intranet system I'm piggybacking for our communications." The buds would have never been powerful enough to get a signal past the tremendous amount of steel and concrete currently between the outside world and the three interlopers, but the museum had run its own communication network into the vaults. Unfortunately, as with most technology trapped in direct proximity to a wizard, it was becoming increasingly unhappy. "Hurry."

The door swung open on soundless hydraulic systems. "Harry, we're about to lose comms," Sophie told him tersely. "In, out, now."

He charged past them, his coat flaring behind him. They followed him into the vault. It was a cold, dark space, lighted only as much as necessary. Racks, easels and pedestals stood at regular intervals, granting no space for observation, merely for each piece in storage not to touch its neighbors.

"We need light," Sophie murmured. Both her and Parker reached for their phones.

A warm, silvery radiance filled the space, spilled all around them, touched the shadows and sent them scurrying away. Both of them stared. Dresden had lifted up the plain pendant he carried tucked under his shirt and it glowed like starlight between his fingers. Sophie could only gape; as magic went it was nothing, a tiny trick, likely easily replicated with tech. But it was there, before her, real. She'd thought herself willing to believe; she hadn't realized how far she'd been from taking the actual leap of faith until that moment.

Parker grinned triumphantly at the sight. Finally, some proper magic.

"Where is it?"

"Here." The thief led the way to the largest frame in the vault, Sokolov's double portrait. Harry followed after her -

The buds screeched feedback. Wherever they were, all of the team winced.

"Dresden!" Hardison yelled.

"Sorry, sorry!" Though Harry couldn't hear the hacker, he could readily figure out why the two women with him had jerked violently and slapped a hand to their ears, and stepped immediately back.

"No, Harry, you step forward, we step back," Sophie told him sternly, giving him a little shove, Parker and her moving further into the vault. Just like that, the wizard was before Sokolov's portrait.

Almost immediately he was frowning. "Stay behind me," he told them distractedly. "Can I touch it?"

"No," both women replied tartly.

Dresden lifted his free hand and ran it just shy of the portrait's surface. "Ok, this is -" He grimaced minutely. "This better not be another trap," he muttered and flicked his fingers.

There was a flash of deep, rich green light, brighter than what he'd conjured. On the portrait, the half-hidden emerald brooch shone like a star, as if someone had kindled a light behind it to show it off as one of the most striking jewels in the world.

"What is it?" Parker asked while Sophie stared, open-mouthed.

"A lock," the wizard replied without turning. "A literal lock." He took a full step back and threw his arms open. The entire frame, ancient gilt and carved wood, began to glow. "This isn't just a portrait, it's a door." He went very still. "It's a gate."

"Good or bad?" Nate asked on the line. Sophie repeated the question.

"Well, odds are it opens to the Nevernever," Dresden replied, then seemed to hear his own words. "So bad. Very bad. Except it's, you know, locked."

"Bad enough that we should take it?"

"No," Nate refuted at once. The line crackled over the one negative.

"Parker, no," Sophie gasped.

"I'm not leaving another death bottle lying around," the thief declared sharply. "Particularly around Jess. Harry?"

Dresden dropped his arms and his head and turned very slowly. "You… have a point," he admitted unhappily, then rubbed at his forehead. "You both saw it. It took nothing to activate the lock. Obviously without the key it's not doing anything, but if the key does show up…" He trailed off. "Almost nothing in the Nevernever's friendly. Neutral at best. Hungry, almost always."

Sophie gritted her teeth and made the only decision she felt she could make. "Everything we need to safely move it should be back at the lab."

Nate huffed, rushing out and hopping on the driver's seat of Hardison's van. "Eliot, start a few arguments. They'll need a little more time. Sophie -"

The line squealed feedback, fired off a few angry popping sounds, and Hardison hissed. "I lost the communication intranet. It burned out."

Nate exhaled sharply, turning to look at the museum.

The three people inside rushed out of the vault, Sophie giving out terse directions. "Harry, will taking the frame apart affect th-" They came out of the vault, around the immense door, and face to face with six people clad in black from head to toe.

Everyone came to a stunned halt.

One of the black-clad figures snarled something in Russian.

The three didn't hesitate: they stepped right back into the vault.

#leverage #nathan ford #parker #sophie devereaux #eliot spencer #alec hardison #the dresden files #harry dresden #fanfiction #my writing #urban fantasy #crossover

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