#but I feel like I just like knowing loosely what my workday is going to look like and when I have to be ready for cameras on

[annwrites]

just thought you might be lonely

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (part of a series)

— summary: billy comes to see you again, bringing you dinner & the two of you share hard truths

— tags: billy pining

— tw: mention of drugs, mention of domestic violence, eating

— word count: 4,117

— a/n: finding gifs of billy that even somewhat fit my posts for this series is gonna be difficult as hell

Billy struggles to get to sleep that night, because every time he begins to drift off, his heart starts to pound as he thinks about seeing you again the following day.

He feels like a damn teenager again at the excitement that fills him at the prospect of it—finally learning more, anything—about you. You clearly were not a social butterfly. Content to be left alone was more your style. That much was easy to detect right away. And, normally, he would respect that. But there was just something there that drew him in, left him wanting for more.

He was lonely. Had been his entire life. Even when he was surrounded by people worshipping the ground he walked on. And it didn't take much observation to reach the summation that you were as well. Why else would you be spending your spare time in an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere?

He wonders where you come from. Is your dad, or even your mom, like his? Surely you're not homeless, and he hadn't chased you out of the only place you had to call home, right? He frowns at that thought.

The least he could do to make it up to you was offer you...something. Money? He has a feeling you may be insulted by that. What if he offered to work on the house, then? Just some general repairs. Were you going hungry? He could always bring you something to eat—whatever you wanted.

He sighs, rolling over, squeezing his eyes shut. And is then greeted by the sight of you staring up at him from inside that closet.

It was going to be a long night.

Billy drags the next day at work. Thankfully, he doesn't commit any screw-ups, but he does end up cursing a bit more than usual while working on the undercarriage of a Pontiac.

He's beyond relieved once the workday is through and he can leave. He has half-a-mind to head straight home, desperate for a hot shower and a lie-down, as well as dinner, but instead opts for a brown bag filled with greasy diner food, and driving up that dirt road yet again.

"You here? I brought dinner!" Billy calls into the empty house.

He heads upstairs, same as yesterday, and the room with the mattress—as well as the closet—is empty.

He turns back around, trying the door you had locked yesterday...and finds it unlocked.

He steps inside, and finds furniture covered in stained white sheets, and there is indeed a window on the wall opposite him, which is now shut.

So, you'd been back. He wonders if you're here now, then decides he's not leaving until he's looked through every room.

A normal person wouldn't be trying this hard—honestly, a normal person wouldn't have cared this much in the first place about you coming here—but he was committed to getting answers now. No matter how long it may take.

The next room he tries has nothing more than a broken bedframe in it, a wooden bedside table with a lamp set atop it beside of it—the shade hanging loosely from it, and a shattered window. The one past it is a small bathroom, with a clawfoot tub against the left wall, a toilet and sink against the other, which all need a good scrubbing.

He sighs, going to try the room to his left now—the one before the room with the mattress—and finds the door locked.

He smiles. "Found you," he mutters.

He doesn't bother with knocking; he knows you won't open it. So, he instead kneels, setting the brown bag on the floor, and retrieves a multi-purpose knife from his pocket, pulling out a miniature blade from the side, then jamming it in the lock. He doesn't bother trying to jimmy it open; working with the doorknob. Perhaps he was being an ass right now, but once he was done, the handle would never lock again.

If it meant that much to you, he'd replace it with his own money—his own two hands.

He hits the butt of the tool with the palm of his hand once, twice, three times, and then he twists, biting his lip, shoving it in further, hitting it again and then the door swings open.

He stands, pocketing the knife, picking up the bag, and finds you sitting on the other side below a closed window, back against the wall, arms crossed, legs outstretched, and by the look on your face, he can tell you're not pleased with him.

He gives a small smile, holding the bag up. "Brought you something to eat." He hopes it will now serve to warm you to him even just a bit, given what he'd just done to your new hiding place.

You continue to stare at him for a moment, before narrowing your eyes. "Has no one ever taught you the meaning of a locked door, or do you just not know how to take a hint?"

He smirks, shrugging one shoulder lightly before crouching down and settling himself beside you, back pressed firmly to the wall as he opens the bag, pulling out a cheeseburger. He holds it toward you.

Your hands remain in your lap, resting atop an open book as you merely glance to him. "I'm not eating that."

He frowns. "I got it for you."

You can't imagine why. What was this guy's problem, anyway? The fact he had apparently been watching you for two weeks had already set you on-edge. But this? He'd busted the damn lock just to get to you. Who knew what was in that burger.

You grab your novel, picking up where you'd left off as soon as you heard boots heading up the stairs again, just like yesterday.

That had certainly scared the living daylights out of you. If only you'd initially bothered hiding in the room with the window—the one also with a lock on the door—that you'd finally climbed out of. Then he most likely would've left this place and never come back.

Ruined. Now everything was ruined because this creep wanted a piece of jailbait. Not like he's the first.

He sighs, unwrapping it, suddenly understanding why you refuse to eat it. He takes a bite, chewing, swallowing, and then he holds it to you again. "There's nothing in it, if that's what you're-"

"I'm not eating after a stranger."

He pulls out the second burger, offering it to you.

You don't bother even looking at him as you turn a page, saying, "Maybe that one is drugged, and this was all a ruse to get me to take it instead."

He sets his hand in his lap, leaning his head back against the wall, but still looking at you. "If I wanted to have my way with you, I'd already have you on your back, y'know?"

You side-eye him at that comment, before returning to your book. "Think awful highly of yourself."

He smirks. "I think you know what I'm referring to."

A beat of silence, then, "That's creepy. What are you, anyway? Thirty? I'm seventeen, you know."

He scoffs. "Thirty? Knock a decade off that, hon'. Well, nine years."

You shrug. "Look old to me."

His lip twitches. Were you ribbing him? He tosses the burger in your lap then and you roll your eyes, leaving it.

He then takes another bite of his, then another. He swallows. "What're you reading?"

"A book."

His lip twitches again as he fights against a smile. You were being curt with him in a desperate attempt at getting him to leave, clearly, but what you didn't know was that being unwanted wasn't a new thing for him.

"Does it have a title?" He pushes his luck further—now, for some reason—wanting to get under your skin. Which he knows is just...wrong, as you'd done nothing to deserve it. Except drive him mad with questions. If not a bit of longing that he'd told himself more than once he didn't really feel. It was imagined. Or, rather, not about you at all.

Maybe he should just hire a hooker, and then he'd feel better. He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous idea.

"Yes."

"Well, do I need to guess it, too?" He asks, taking another bite.

You shrug, turning another page. "If that'll make you happy, Willy."

"Billy."

You finally look at him, then, and his heart jumps when your lovely eyes meet his own. "Hm?"

"My name. It's not Willy. I mean, William is technically right, but no one calls me that. Billy."

You study him for a moment. "Uh-huh."

He smirks. You were entertaining, if nothing else. God, he wants to fucking touch you.

"You really going to let it go to waste?"

"I never asked you to bring me food." You turn back to your book. "Or come back here in general. Incase it isn't obvious, as it seems most things must not to be to you: I come here to be alone. Your presence is sort of defeating that purpose."

You were such a smartass.

"Just thought you might be lonely. Thought that maybe my thrilling company would be preferable to-"

"It's not."

You stop reading then, only pretending to. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, for whatever reason. Maybe...maybe he was lonely, too. But if he wanted back in your good graces, he was going to be replacing the lock.

You shouldn't feel guilty for your shortness with him. You'd not asked—or, much more, invited—him here. He'd just given himself permission to intrude on what you'd eventually come to consider your domain. Your place of peace.

You sigh, shutting the book, picking up the burger.

He smiles as he watches you take a bite, and then another. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

You swallow, looking at him.

"How'd you even find this place?"

"Walking." You take another bite.

"You don't...live here, right?"

You're silent for a moment, continuing to eat—the burger now halfway gone. "No. But if you even want to attempt at getting on my good side, you'll be replacing the lock."

He turns the least bit more toward you. "Happily."

You roll your eyes, biting then chewing again.

"Anybody else know about it?"

You shrug. "I've never ran into anyone else here. Until yesterday." You give him a glare and he chuckles.

You speak again. "So, you've been stalking me, huh?"

He blanches. "I haven't."

You glance to the knob, then back to him.

He smirks, looking down, rubbing his thumb into the callused palm of his other hand. "Guess I got a bit carried away, huh?" He looks at you from under his lashes.

"Why do you care in the first place?" You ask, genuinely curious about his...motivations.

"You fascinate me."

You quickly swallow. "Why?"

He shrugs. "Why not? Honestly, for the last couple of weeks, you're all I've been able to think about. For the most part, at least."

You grow quiet at that. You're not sure whether you should blush or balk at such a statement. In all honesty, it makes you feel a tad uncomfortable. All of it does, really.

"Can't find a girl your own age?"

He leans his head back, smirking. "Funny. Now who thinks highly of themselves?"

You cross your ankles. "So, instead of finding a hobby, you develop an infatuation with a random teenage girl, track her down to an abandoned house, and break into the room she's hiding from you in. I shouldn't find that weird? Maybe I should call the police."

Hearing it put like that makes him feel...not well with himself. It makes him sound...he doesn't want to think of what it makes him sound like. He's not...like that. He just wanted answers. That was all.

"You're the one living here, and you call me weird? And with what landline, sweetheart?"

"I told you I don't live here," you quickly shoot back at him, not replying to his comment about the non-existent phone.

"Ok, spend spare time here, then."

"You're avoiding what I said," you reply, burger now nearly finished.

He stares straight ahead, out the now-open doorway. He'd have a stop to make after work tomorrow now. Well, an extra one. "I don't have many friends, incase you can't tell by now. Well, none, really. Not anymore."

Quite a pair, you muse, taking your last bite.

He continues. "I'm not saying that's what I came here to find. I just..." He sighs, leaning his head back, shutting his eyes, utterly fucking exhausted. Not even he knows what the damn hell he's doing here. "Couldn't let it go, I guess. I wanted to meet you. Don't ask me why, because your guess is as good as mine."

He feels something bounce off his face then, and when he opens his eyes, the silver wrapper from your burger is now resting in his lap.

He looks at you with a raised brow.

You have a small smile on your lips, and you look at him for only a moment before picking your book back up again.

"You live in town?" He asks.

"I don't know, do I?"

He rolls his eyes. "I haven't followed you anywhere but here."

"Where do you live?"

He crosses his arms. "Outskirts of town."

"Why not in it?"

He becomes quiet then and you can tell there's something there to be discovered.

"Just don't like living on top of everybody else."

You hum your response, not really buying that answer.

He speaks again. "You still live at home?"

"I'm seventeen, so what do you think?." You turn a page.

He shakes his head. "So, you go to Hawkins High?"

"Mhm."

"Me too. Well, did. Graduated four years ago." He looks at you. "You like going to school?"

You shrug. "I don't much care either way. I'd rather be here, but..."

"Why not spend your time at home instead?"

"You sure do have a lot of questions."

"Plenty more where that came from. Never did answer." And he truly means it.

You sigh, shutting your book once more. "You're making it very hard to concentrate."

He nearly makes a flirtatious comment at that. It was only four years between the two of you. Occasionally, he still felt your age. Sometimes, however, he felt twice his own. He refrains. "I'll leave you to your reading soon enough. I only have a few dozen questions."

You blink at him.

"That's not sarcasm, by the way," he states.

"I promise I'm not nearly as interesting as whatever story, or version of me that you've come up with inside your head."

He waves a hand. "That's to be determined."

You turn more toward him then with an interested look.

He smiles. "I didn't really come up with a story about you, exactly. Just about what might be out here. Maybe you were camping, or swimming, or climbing a treehouse everyday."

"Well, you're at least somewhat right."

He raises a brow. "Oh?"

"There's a swimming hole not far from here."

He nods for a moment, then, "Should we go?"

You snort, standing. "So the strange man can drown me with no witnesses? Not likely."

You exit the room then and he quickly stands as well, following after you. "Where're you-" He's cut short by the sight of you disappearing around a corner, heading downstairs.

His boots thump loudly against each step as he tries to catch up to you. "Hey!" He groans as he reaches the first floor, turning toward the back of the house, watching as you exit through the rear screen door.

"The fuck am I doing," he mutters, following you outside.

He finds you seated on a porch swing that's missing a couple pieces of wood, the white paint nearly gone.

You stare up at him, watching as he positions his hands on his hips, only glancing momentarily to his partially unbuttoned shirt. You slip off your sneakers, crossing your legs before you as you begin to lightly swing yourself.

He looks off into the distance and sees the place is surrounded by yet more tall grass, but there's also a few apple trees. Surprising, he thinks.

He walks out, you watching him, as he pulls two ripe green apples from branches, heading back in your direction.

He sits, placing one on the banister behind the two of you before retrieving his pocket knife and slicing off a piece, handing it to you.

Gingerly, you take it from him, your fingertips brushing against his own, sending a jolt of excitement through him. Good lord, it'd truly been a long time, hadn't it? Since he had any form of female attention. Other than occasionally being ogled at the shop by women standing next to their soft-handed, clueless, accountant husbands.

You chew slowly, studying him.

And he just stares back at you doing the same. Only difference is, you don't seem bothered by the eye-contact. Four years ago, he would've known exactly what to do with you. Now? Not so much.

"Anything you want to ask me?" He says, eager to break the silence.

You consider for a moment, him now lightly rocking the both of you, pushing against the wooden floorboards of the back porch with his boots.

“Your accent—you’re not originally from here, are you?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “No. My old man moved us here when I was seventeen. From California.”

Long ways, city boy, you think. “Where is he now?”

He slices off another piece, popping it in his mouth, and then another one for you. He shrugs. “Still living in town. I run into him every now and again after work.”

There’s a story there. “Do you not get along?”

He’s silent again, slicing off another piece and then another. He has no idea why he chooses to divulge it to you, but if he wants you to trust him—to continue giving him answers as well—he has to give you something in return. “We never have. He used to smack my mom around. Until she left. Then it was just me, and I started getting the brunt of it. He remarried. Got a new step-daughter, which became my fuckin’ problem to look after. Once I was eighteen and out of school, he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.”

You see the pain of it in his eyes, this truth he’s shared. You weren’t used to such honesty, because honest people were not the types you typically kept company with. By any means.

He looks at you again, handing you another slice.

You take it, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. 

“What about you?”

You stare at him for just a moment, wondering if you were really about to do this. Tell him this most dark, hidden truth about your life. One that…if it reached the wrong people—cops that weren’t already in the ‘right’ pockets—it could mean the end. For many. Not that you’d shed a tear to watch a single one of them fall. At least that way, they’d never touch you again. Ever.

“What do you do for a living?”

He frowns. “I asked you a question fir-”

“And if you want me to answer it, you’ll tell me what I’ve asked.”

His brows furrow. “I’m a mechanic.”

You sit forward then, holding out your hands. “Give me your hands, then.”

His confusion only grows. “What?”

“If you’re a mechanic, it means you work with your hands all day. They should be rough—callused. Otherwise, I’m going to assume you’re lying. Maybe you’re a cop. Maybe that’s why you’ve been watching me. Maybe you think you know something. So, you either give me your hands, or I leave, and this conversation is permanently over.”

He suddenly wonders just who the hell he’s talking to. What it is that you’re involved in, exactly.

He gives you his hands, and you turn them onto their palms. Callused most certainly, dirt—perhaps oil—seeped into the cracks, even. Rough like sandpaper. A familiar sensation that you’ve felt across every inch of you and then some.

You glance up to him, squeezing them tighter. “Are you a cop?” You ask with a raised brow, almost certain he isn’t. 

“Do I look like a cop?”

You continue to stare.

He sighs. “No, I’m not a fuckin’ cop.”

You let him go then, leaning back, crossing your arms. “My dad and I…we keep our distance from one another. I do as I’m told when he does occasionally tell me to do something—mostly helping him with the…family business, or household chores, and in return, I can do as I please without him bothering me.”

He takes one of your feet into his lap then, gently tugging your sock off, laying it to the side and massaging your sole. “And what is the ‘family business’, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You’d not been expecting the tender gesture on his part. But, you spent a lot of time walking. For various reasons. So, your feet aching was a regular occurrence. 

This was nice of him to do. Or perhaps he had other motives. Not that you'd be surprised. Men always did. Especially with you.

You’d not told this truth to anyone. And you’d known this man for perhaps an hour and you were ready to tell him this? Maybe you truly were a stupid girl. You’d heard as much a time or two.

“He’s a dealer. Meth, mostly.”

His hands falter. “And you help him by…?”

You shrug, reaching for the extra apple, taking a bite. “Like I said, doing as I’m told. That’s all you get for today. In regards to that question, at least. That subject.”

“And where is your mom in all of this?”

Another shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Where the damn hell had you come from? You seemed intelligent enough. Too much for your own good—or, perhaps, just enough. You did not come off as the daughter of a drug dealer.

He just looks at you, and you at him. His gaze softens. “You come here to get away from it. Does he make it in the house?”

You shake your head. “There’s a shed. Not that he doesn’t sometimes do it in the house, but it’s not often. That much he bothers with trying to keep away from me. He’s stressed time and again that he wants me to stay away from it, even if I’m surrounded by it…”

Your tone has grown quiet now, even perhaps a bit sad. 

You’re no longer looking at him.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can think to offer, and he knows it falls woefully short of what you deserve to hear.

You take another bite, a small one. “Me too.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes, hand resting atop your ankle. “Just when I thought this shithole couldn’t get any worse.”

“You asked.”

His lip twitches. “I guess the only difference now is that I know.”

You notice the swing has stopped rocking. “Been here the whole time.”

“I guess so.”

After a handful of minutes, he begins to snore softly, and you know it’s time to go. You gently remove your foot from his lap, then reach over, retrieving your sock, and slipping it back on, then your sneakers.

You walk over, shrugging on your backpack, and then you stop and stare at him for just a moment.

He truly was very…pretty. For a man, that is. The types you were often around were typically more on the rugged or rough side. Handsome could be the adjective used to describe one or two. Pretty, however? Never. 

Long, dark lashes, full lips, bright eyes—when they’re open, that is—a sharp jawline, and dark stubble, hard planes across his abdomen; what you can see of it, at least. He almost looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine. Perhaps Popular Mechanic, you think with a smirk. 

You step over to him, then lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. And then you consider for a moment, before brushing another over his lips before pulling back, whispering ‘see ya’, before heading out. 

When Billy wakes again, it’s not quite an hour later, and when he looks to the side of him, you’re gone, an apple core sitting in the spot you’d previously occupied. 

He rises, stretching, then heading inside, calling for you. To no avail. 

He heads upstairs, and finds every room and closet empty. So he heads back down, exiting the house, knowing: he’ll see you tomorrow—his mystery girl.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader) #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[whentherewerebicycles]

oof just got CRANKY

#my lead just moves meetings around randomly with no warning #often like a minute before they’re supposed to start #without saying anything I’m just supposed to notice that my calendar’s different #and she doesn’t consult me on the new time #and sometimes schedules them at times I have blocked off as unavailable #maybe this is totally normal workplace behavior and I’m just sensitive to it after life on an academic’s schedule where it’s like #you email or chat to propose/confirm a time rather than just grabbing time on someone’s calendar #but I feel like I just like knowing loosely what my workday is going to look like and when I have to be ready for cameras on #and sometimes it’s like well I had that time blocked off to work on something in a sustained way #and now I have to work for 20 min then interrupt it to get ready for a meeting then meet then work for 20 more min after #idk I could be a grownup and talk to her about it but instead I’ll whine on the internet

[works-of-fanfiction]

Toothbrush || Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: It’s still early days for Lando and the reader, but he’s ready to start seeing more of her.

Song: Toothbrush by DNCE.

Warnings: None, just a wholesome read.

Word Count: 2.3k

a/n: every time I listen to this song, I imagine little fanfic scenarios in my head, so I finally wrote one! I’m a George girl at heart, but I think I’m in my Lando era rn. short but sweet - hope you like it!

With Lando’s arm strewn across your chest and his soft snores in your ear, you didn’t dare to move. Streams of sunlight bled into the room through the gap in the curtains, illuminating his tanned shoulders that poked out of the covers. Pins and needles prickled at your feet as you fought desperately not to leave the bed. He looked so comfortable and he deserved the extra rest after all the busy weekdays preparing for the new season.

You turned your head to catch a full glimpse of his face, his mouth hanging slightly open and eyelids twitching involuntarily. You often wondered what he dreamt about, as you did with anyone who fell asleep in your company. Dreams fascinated you; the weirder the better. Your workdays often started with your colleagues all sharing their wild and wonderful dreams from the night before, with the odd nightmare sprinkled in. If only you had a pound for every time your manager dreamt of losing his teeth…

Your bladder deceived you, the pressure growing the more you tried to ignore it. Sighing, you pushed the covers off your body, careful not to disturb the half that covered the sleeping driver beside you. You shuffled to the right, fingertips gently lowering Lando’s hand onto the pillow, hoping he didn’t stir. The fresh morning air whipped around your bare frame, and you resorted to hugging yourself as you tiptoed into the ensuite.

You moved with caution, tearing the toilet paper slowly and studying the squares as they ripped apart bit by bit. As much as you hated not flushing, you didn’t want to startle the poor guy, so you opted for closing the lid. That too was done carefully, not letting the wooden pieces make a single sound as they touched. You washed your hands quickly, scrubbing them dry on a towel, a comically bright orange towel with the McLaren logo plastered all over it. You’d laughed at it the first time you stayed over, Lando cursing himself for not hiding it before you arrived. You’d wondered where else random pieces of McLaren merchandise were going to pop up. Tea towels? Bed sheets? Branded cereal, perhaps?

On your way back to the bed, you scooped up Lando’s t-shirt from the night before, slipping it on and appreciating the fabric against your skin. It didn’t make a huge difference, but at least it covered the goosebumps scattered across your cold chest. Catching your reflection in the mirror, you combed your fingers through your hair, pushing loose strands out of your eyes. Hearing a rustling in the covers, you turned to see Lando stretching his arms above his head, his eyes still squeezed shut to avoid the morning light.

“Mm… Come back to bed.” He mumbled, propping his hands behind his head like he was laid on a sun lounger. You sat on the bed beside him, resting on your right hip and tucking your legs in to lift your feet off the ground. Feeling the mattress dip, a lazy smile spread across his face as he prized his eyes open halfway. “There you are.” You laid a hand on his chest, smiling down at him before his eyes fluttered closed once again. “Beautiful.”

You exhaled, amused by his compliment. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to.”

He could be cheesy sometimes, but part of you loved it. You’d always enjoyed making fun of your friends in their honeymoon phases, mimicking their partners and overusing their new nicknames. You’d waited a long time for it to be your turn, so you planned on soaking up every pet name, pick-up line, and spooning session until they grew tired of hearing about it. God knows you’d heard more than your fair share of romantic tales.

All you wanted to do was lie back down beside him and burrow your head beneath his arm, but the grease in your hair and mascara stuck in your tear ducts begged you to go home and shower.

Being in the early stages meant that overstaying your welcome was still a possibility. You had yet to lie in past 10am with Lando, and were always dressed and out of the door before he’d even shed the covers. You’d made a promise to yourself at the start that you wouldn’t let yourself get too attached or seem clingy. Whirlwind relationships always sounded good until they weren’t, and you’d experienced them one too many times to allow it to happen again. Besides, Lando never seemed to argue when you slipped out of bed and left before breakfast. To him, it seemed like you just enjoyed your own space. For the past eight Sundays, you’d detangled yourself from his grasp, thrown on your clothes from the night before and left him with a simple kiss on the cheek, all before he’d even managed to open his eyes properly. Most of those mornings he’d rolled over to your side of the bed, inhaling the traces of your perfume and replaying the events of the evening over and over in his head. One day he’d tell you to stay; he’d hide your keys if it meant he could spend a few more hours in bed with you... What did you like for breakfast? If he ordered pancakes, would you stay and split a plate with him? Was it brown or tomato sauce you had with your bacon?

Lando felt you fidgeting on the bed and rolled over to grab your arm. You looked down in surprise, turning your wrist to take his hand in yours. “What’s wrong?” You asked, his fingers soft and featherlike against your palm, following the lines from left to right.

“What time is it?”

“Um…” You leaned over, checking your phone on the bedside table. “It’s almost 9.30.”

He groaned, slumping forward to rest his head against your arm. You laughed, moving so his head fell into your lap and your hand settled in the top of his hair. Catching a curl around your finger, you studied the tones in his hair and how they each caught the sunlight. Sitting there quiet and content with him made you a little sad, as you didn’t want to leave. Part of you longed for Sundays spent together, movies on the sofa with last night’s leftovers heating up in the microwave. You knew it was a fool’s dream considering he ended up in a new country every weekend. You cursed yourself for following your silly little rule and not taking advantage of the time you did have. In less than a month, he’d be calling you from hotels in the middle of who knows where with bad reception and voices urging him to hurry up and get back to work.

Sighing, you tapped Lando’s shoulder, whispering for him to sit up. “I should get going.” You said hesitantly, forcing yourself to stand.

“Stay. Just a little longer.” He gazed at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair unruly on his forehead and cheeks lined with crease marks from his pillows.

“Look at me, Lando.” You scoffed, waving your hands in front of your face. “I am in serious need of a shower.”

“I have a shower.” He stated obviously, his eyes finally widening to their normal state as he propped himself up against the headboard. “Towels are in the cupboard on the third shelf.”

“I… Lando – “

“Y/N.” He tilted his head, looking at you with raised brows. “You’re allowed to stay and take a shower.”

His words were laced with so much more than what he was saying. He wanted you in his shower, stepping out to wrap yourself in one of his towels with your damp hair leaving droplets on the countertop. He wanted your footprints on the bathmat – hell, he’d even put up with your hair clogging the drains if it meant there were traces of you in his home. He wanted more than just the ghost of you at his kitchen counter or out on the patio.

He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stood up and approached the cupboard, choosing a fluffy blue towel from the shelf. He rolled out of the bed, following you to the bathroom and flicking the extractor fan on above your heads. “Alright. You’ve got the rainfall shower which you turn on by twisting this towards you.” He instructed, trying to hide the smile that was creeping its way onto his face. It was crazy how long he’d waited to show you something so simple.

He turned the rainfall shower on, letting the water heat up for you. “The detachable showerhead is the same, just turn it in the other direction towards the wall.”

He stepped to the side, letting you slip past him. You stood shyly, his shirt still hanging off your body. “Well, I’m not going to shower with you watching!” You laughed, folding your arms and waiting for him to leave.

“Why? It’s nothing I haven’t already seen.” He smirked, mirroring your stance. Your cheeks flushed red at his words, visions of last night swimming around your mind. You needed him to leave the bathroom before you dragged him under the water with you.

He turned to leave, mindlessly adjusting the hand towels on the rack. “I’ll leave some clothes on the bed for you. There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet too.”

“Are you saying I have smelly breath?” You gasped, watching as he turned back to face you with the same cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Pulling the shirt over your head, you screwed it into a ball and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face and blocking his view. You turned to face the shower, leaving him with a foggy view of your backside through the textured glass. “Not fair!” He shouted over the running water as you dunked your messy hair beneath the stream.

“Get out, you pervert!”

He left the bathroom laughing to himself, closing the door behind him. He rushed to tidy the room a little, making sure to leave the clothes he promised on the bed. He took the liberty of putting your clothes in the wash with his, hoping you’d be okay with it.

When you surfaced from the bathroom with the towel tucked around your body and a beaming smile on your face, he swore he could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. “Better?” He asked, sliding the pile of clothes your way.

“Much. Thank you.” You took the clothes, Lando turning away to give you some privacy whilst you changed. “Where should I put the towel?” You asked, giving him the all-clear to look at you.

“Just throw it in the hamper. I’ll sort it later.”

“Oh, I didn’t know where to put the toothbrush so it’s just in the pot beside yours.”

He smiled, looking at you but not saying a word. “What?” You asked, glancing down at yourself then back to him. “What’s wrong?”

Patting the space next to him on the bed, you sat down, pulling your wet hair over one shoulder. “I was thinking…” He started, reaching to grab your hand. Running his fingers over your knuckles, he studied the curiosity on your face as he rehearsed the words in his head. “Why don’t you leave the toothbrush in the pot?”

You didn’t catch on at first, but his words soon made sense as he shuffled closer to you, his thigh pressed against yours. Your face ached from smiling, Lando’s expression perfectly reflecting yours. “It’s convenient, you know?” He played it cool, earning him a playful slap on the chest.

“Yeah, sure! Convenience.” You mocked, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“By the way…” He spoke into your ear, his lips brushing against the lobe, tickling you. “I put your clothes in the wash, so you won’t be leaving anytime soon.” He drew back to look at you, surprised to see you still smiling.

“Good job I wasn’t planning on it anyway.” Throwing a leg over his, you straddled his lap and rested your arms around his neck.  He leaned forward, catching your lips with his and kissing you gently. Wet droplets from your hair fell onto his bare shoulder, making him shiver and laugh into the kiss. Pulling away, you swiped the water away with your hand, sliding off his lap and linking your fingers with his. He stood, grabbing the nearest hoodie hanging on the bed post and throwing it over his shoulder as he led you out of the bedroom and towards the stairs.

“So… breakfast?” His voice was muffled as he squeezed the hoodie over his head, stepping cautiously so he didn’t tumble down the stairs.

“Sounds good. What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m easy. I’ll have anything.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice, turning to find you resting your elbows on the kitchen island. Something about you in his house, in his clothes, made his stomach do somersaults. It quickly became his favourite sight.

Pouring two glasses of juice, he slid one over to you, taking a seat on one of the stools. “How did you sleep by the way?” He asked, sipping his drink and snuggling up to you to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Pretty good. You?”

“The same… But I did have this really weird dream.”

Your ears perked up at his words and you turned to look at him eagerly. “Tell me all about it.”

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 oneshot #lando norris x reader

[manfuckthisimout]

This look RAHHHHHH

Your relationship with your boss was an odd one. It was obvious to everyone in the precinct that you and the detective were more than just boss and secretary. But you would never admit that, and August D had a weird way of showing his fondness. It was the same way every workday—come in at 6:30, find the detective already at his desk, make him coffee, start the day. He would fuss and scold you for little things, make excuses to stay at your desk and talk to you.

You two kind of danced around each other, an unspoken possessive from the detective, and you playing coy until he finally fesses up that he likes you.

He storms out of his office while you’re scheduling his next meeting.

“Didn’t I tell you not to mix up these documents?” he says, holding up a manila file folder. He looks quite frustrated, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, suit jacket off and sleeves rolled past his forearms.

Yelling at you like this does virtually nothing in his favor—if anything it just makes you rub your thighs together. “I’m sorry sir,” you smooth out, batting your eyelashes up at him. “I thought your desk needed some tidying, and you were out in a case so..” He gives you a pointed look. “That doesn’t give you a reason to touch anything in my office. If I want you to tidy anything of mine, I’ll ask you to.” You nod, turning your attention back to the computer screen in front of you.

“Did you schedule my meeting with Captain Jung?” He asks, leaning over the front of your desk. You can feel him staring into your forehead, almost trying to make you squirm in your seat. “Of course sir, I just finished. Your meeting is for 4:30 today.” “Good.” He gives you one last long look over before pushing off your desk and walking back into his office.

You look up from your computer, staring at the deep mahogany that separates you and your boss. “Y’know, we have a running bet pool on which of you is gonna confess first.” Your coworker, Su-min slides over to your desk and props her hand under her chin. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and him,” you sigh. “Sure. Tell it to the rest of us.” She chides back. “Don’t you have a case to be doing right now? That missing girl right? How long has it been?” “About a week or so. I really hope we can find her alive, but it’s starting to look grim.” She grimaces. “I hope you end up finding her either way—“

“Y/N! My office, now!”

Suddenly his door was cracked, and you could see him walking back to his desk, waiting for you.

You turn to Su-min and grimace. “Duty calls. Tell me about the case after I get done with this.” She grins at you. “Don’t start fooling around in there, keep it PG!” You roll your eyes, standing from your desk and walking into the detective’s office.

“You called for me detective?” You answer sweetly. “Sit. I have something to talk to you about.” You sit in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. He gets up and rounds the front of his desk, leaning against it to look at you better. “We’ve known each other for quite sometime now,” he starts, arms folded and head down. He smirks. “You and I both know that I’ve been dancing around you these past years-“ “Is that what you call it sir?” He pauses. “Excuse me?” “Is that what you call it, this situation I mean. I was very aware of your feelings about me from the day we met sir. The whole precinct knows how you act around me.” “..I’ve been that bad at hiding it then?” “Pretty much.”

He sighs. “I know I haven’t been…vocal..about my feelings for you. I’d like to fix that. Do you want to go to lunch with me sometime?” You smile at his bluntness. He’s always been bad with words like this, saving his poetical vocabulary for high-stress situations with criminals. “What’s so funny?” He asks, brow raised, smile on his face. “You are. You’re so bad with words sir..” You giggle. He leans down, gripping either side of the arms on the chair. He’s so close to you now, noses almost touching. “I am, hm? And that’s funny?” You nod. He chuckles. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” “Lunch right? What time?” “Lunch time.” You grimace. “Well, I assumed that much. 12 or 1?” “12:30.” “12:30 it is. I’ll mark it on your personal calendar.”

He lifts himself from his position, rounding his desk again and sitting in his chair. He stares at you longingly. “I’d suggest you get back out there. Wouldn’t want to keep the office waiting on who won that bet.” You chuckle. “Yes sir.”

Second fic rawr

This came to me in a feverish daydream

Also because of boredom

Hope you like!!

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #boyfriend yoongi #min yoongi x reader #suga fanfic #suga fluff #suga x reader #suga x y/n #suga x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi gif #haegeum #haegeum yoongi x reader #suga smut #bts suga #secretary x boss #idk what this is #came to me in a fever dream I guess #actual fic is otw I just have to figure out wtf I’m going to write lollll #hope y’all enjoy

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Love your writing! Could you do Carmy getting drunk for the first time in forever and it just makes him super sweet and clingy

Tipsy

I wouldn't say that it's something big. It's not an aftermath of clubbing or going out to a bar, or pub. All of these places are way too crowded and would only increase Carmen's anxiety. They're not for him and you're equally not that big of a fan of going out either.

I kind of picture it being something along the lines of you two staying even after family is over. Like letting everyone get home earlier because you've not rushing anywhere. So while cleaning the dishes, you decide to open up another bottle of wine. And Carmen has music playing from his phone. Something sweet, and sweet just some piano music. I don't know why but for some reason my brain goes to some whimsical playlist on Spotify - don't ask me why. And you just hum alongside the melody while drying the dishes and you both have these lazy smiles painting both of your faces.

And it's just so good to have this time finally for yourself. Like the restaurant had kicked off, everything is slowly starting to fall into place. You can start to somewhat manage your workdays and your free time. It just genuinely starts to feel normal. Yet the moments when you can be together alone, and just soaking in the presence of each other are still rather rare. Hence this feeling so special even while doing such a mundane task.

And you can tell that Carmen is getting tipsy but also you can't blame him. Alcohol always hits when you are tired and man is running on like three hours of sleep. Let's face it. Add on top of anxiety so it's just an insane mix. But you don't mind it. You're kind of happy that he's getting tipsy and letting go because his shoulders are slumped, but in the lazy kind away, he has somewhat of a light smirk on his face. His hair messy, shirt undone, and he's just absolutely vibing. Something that you haven't seen him do in forever.

End it feels so fragile almost so you don't even comment on and you don't tell him anything, you just kind of watch him. Until he catches your gaze and he gets all smug saying, "Are you checking me out?" And you're just shrugging your shoulders trying to play it off like , "No, why would I?" Carmen turns to you and goes, "Oh, because I have a girlfriend and she's the best of the best" and he laughing , while you're biting your lip as you say, "The best of the best, hm? Tell me more about her".

And he's dropping the plate back in the sink, lazily walking over to you. Hand sneaking onto your hips and you can feel the smell of his cologne and it's already driving you mad. "She got these pretty eyes", he says his fingers softly brushing the hair away from your eyes, "And she got this adorable nose", Carmy taps the tip of your nose, "And her fucking lips. So pretty and so fucking delicious"

You bite your lip in return making Carmen growl, "Do you even know what you're doing to me, woman?", he asks, you're shake your head innocently. "Well, you make me fucking hot and bothered yeah...", his grip on your hips tightens, he's pressing you against the counter and then all of a sudden gripping your bum as he lifts you up. You let out a squeal, but he doesn't go far, he's just placing you carefully on the kitchen counter, arms on either side of you. "You're so beautiful", he mutters. Lost in the way you look. "You're tipsy, bab", you brush some of his loose curls away from his face. "I can be freaking tipsy or as sober as a baby and still, you'd be the most breathtaking woman I've ever seen", he purrs, "How did I get so lucky?" You giggle slightly, "Well, you know... You are pretty good in the kitchen, make some delicious food", you trial off. "Only good in the kitchen, huh?", he raises an eyebrows at you, "I think someone is in desperately needs to be reminded of last night".

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear imagine #the bear x reader #the bear tv show

[worldswithoutendings]

Eye for an eye [Michael Langdon] pt.4

Pairing: Michael langdon x female!reader

warnings: mentions of death

words: 1540

summary: your first date with michael and your first workday at Kineros (filler chapter)

AN: I'm still trying to figure out what format works best for me so bear with me, any feedback is highly appreciated <3

When the clock hit 7 you got ready for the dinner you had with Michael, all he said before he left after abusing your closet was to wear the dress and let your hair loose. But nothing more. So you added some black heels and a silver necklace. You did your makeup a tiny bit heavier than usual and for once you didn’t put on perfume in the hope that he would linger more around you like his coat did. Because damn he smells good it should be illegal.

I’m here.

you curse as you run down the stairs, almost breaking your ankle as you grab the door handle to reveal Michael. Clad in an all-black outfit, smelling absolutely divine and his short curls framing his face “Hi” you breathe out and Michael smiles at you “Look at you, you look stunning” he smiles as he holds out his arm “Shall we?” you say nothing, just taking his arm as you follow him to his car, which, of course, is also expensive “you’re picking me up in a Bugatti?!” you gasp out “what, it’s a nice car” “it is! But, so expensive” you breathe out and Michael laughs as he opens the door for you “my lady” “oh, thank you sir” you act with him as you sit down on the seat. Feeling the expensive seat as Michael sits in the driver seat.

Satan watches the two of them spend the day together from his throne “Good, everything is all going to plan” he says as he stretches his fingers out over the armchairs “Now we need to get rid of that Rosalie figure, I hope Michael hurries up with that girl”

Arm in arm you walk with Michael to the restaurant he picked out. And of course, it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant making you huff “What is it?” “I just feel out of place, I’m so used to visiting a McDonald's or a Five Guys as a date. Never set foot in a Michelin-starred restaurant” you mumble and Michael smiles “Good, I can show you how a real man is supposed to treat you” He walks inside with you and a guy comes scurrying towards you both “Mr. Langdon. Such an honor to have you here again. Shall we go to your booth?” the guy stumbles over his words and Michael gives a short nod

“do you come here often?” your mouth speaks before you can think “Yeah, not a lot. just for business” “Did you come here with Rosalie?” you ask self-conscious and Michael smirks “She is on your mind a lot isn’t she? The answer is no” he says as the guy mentions to the booth in the far back of the restaurant where the mood is actually kind of romantic “that’s a shame, it’s beautiful here” you say as you sit down in the booth, realizing both your knees are touching you scrape you throat “well, I only want to bring important people here. So, mostly Ms. Mead. But not since a few months ago” his voice dies down a bit and you can’t help but feel sorry for him even though you don’t know who Ms. Mead is and what happened a few months ago.

The food that was served was divine, just like the wine that was served. You talked about anything and nothing that your minds could think of, Michael even told you what happened to Ms. Mead. How she was set on fire and now, at Kineros they’re trying to make a robot version of her. Michael held her dear and close to his heart like he expected his grandmother to do ‘what happened to your grandmother?” you say as you put a piece of gnocchi in your mouth “She killed herself when she realized that I was aging to quick and murdering people instead of animals” his voice became flat and his knuckles were starting to turn white with how hard he was holding his utensils.

You couldn’t help yourself but touch his hand “I’m so sorry Michael” you whispered but you tried to sound neutral, knowing how much you hated it when your parents died and how everybody started to talk to you like a baby “You, you lost both your parents right?’ Michael asks questionably and you nod as you take a sip of your wine “my dad passed away of a cardiac arrest, my mother died shortly after due to a drug overdose, I was.. 16? Yeah, so, after the deal” your voice becomes quieter and quieter

“do you think that, you know, satan may be behind it? Seeing if I would get deranged?” “I don’t know, y/n, you have to ask him that” “I did actually, multiple times, but he waved it away, saying I was delusional” You play with a single piece of gnocchi and feel a hand on your kneecap. You sigh softly “he probably didn’t mean it like that, he also left me in the dark for years I didn’t know what I was supposed to do until I got to Kineros”

After dinner, Michael took you for a walk through the park. Deciding to sit on a bench with the hot coffee you bought from the stand even though Michael wanted to go to a coffee shop you shook your head “No this is actually good coffee!” you exclaimed so Michael wanted to believe you. And indeed, it was damn good coffee “So, tomorrow you can just come to Kineros, I’ll show you around and get you settled, you don’t have to worry about anything, well, maybe, your clothing but just, wear a button-up shirt or something. We’ll go shopping for it” Michael says before he takes a sip “damn, this is good coffee”

Nervously you arrived at Kineros the following morning. Especially because you just left your old job and your wrist still hurts. The clicking of your heels on the marble floor echoes off the walls as you see two guys with bowl cuts they must go to the same hairdresser because it looks awful. Michael is in a conversation with them but you see that all of a sudden he has trouble with his laughter

“Are you making fun of us?!” the brown-haired one exclaims and Michael immediately stops “No, no! I wouldn’t dare. You do look ridiculous” Michael exclaims and now you really have to hold in your laughter, they both turn around to look at you “Ah our new secretary! Miss y/n. right? We’d appreciate it if you respected our wishes,” the blonde one says immediately “actually, she only respects my wishes” Michael chimes in, yeah you wish.

You learned that their names are Jeff and Mutt, but you would mostly be working for Michael. Ruling over his agenda and keeping him up to date with meetings and calls. Further, you are the one responding to email, which mostly consists of rich dudes who are aching for their new sex doll.

A girl with a familiar face walks, well, storms in. looking like a drug dealer with her hair all matted, and clothes she had probably worn the last 2 weeks and never heard of the word shower or bath. She composes herself the moment she is at your desk and scrapes her throat “Yes?” you reply while you're typing an email to a client “I’m here to see my boyfriend, Michael” Oh shit it’s Rosalie “Are you scheduled?” “no?! I don’t need to schedule anything” she bursts out and you bite your lower lip “One second please,” you say as you reach for the phone. The foul stench of Rosalie makes its way to your nostrils Michael you’re kidding me. You only type in the number 1. Knowing it will connect to his office he immediately picks up “yes?” “Michael, you’re… girlfriend is here” he hangs up with a loud groan. Not much later his door opens and you hear him curse under his breath “Rosalie, what are you doing here. You can’t just barge in at my work” he says as he leans against the doorpost.

Rosalie immediately runs to him which means you can catch a breath we need to buy air fresheners and perfume and incense to get rid of this smell did she fall in a well or something?! You open up a website for fragrances to check out what can be delivered today as you try to hear the conversation as Michael doesn’t want her in his office “I have a meeting in 5 minutes” No you don’t “so you really need to leave” yes you absolutely do “but Michael! You promised!” she screams out “we were supposed to go on a date this week and you declined me! Twice! I can’t do this anymore!” Michael sighs deeply “Just, go. Rosalie. I’ll call you after the meeting okay” “Can I get a kiss?” “did you brush your teeth?” he blurts out and she gasps “Yes?!” she sounds incredibly shocked and you hear him audibly gulp. You reach for your bag as Michael cautiously gives her the tiniest peck on earth and she walks away confidently “Here” you wave around a travel-sized toothbrush and toothpaste you always keep in your bag.

#american horror story #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon scenario #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x female!reader

[honeyhotteoks]

into the aurora - chapter twelve (ot8)

chapter eleven: a late, late night

note: thank you to everyone who's been so patient waiting for this chapter. if you've been following me, you know that i had covid right after posting chapter eleven and it affected me a lot more than i would have expected. i'm feeling much better, and getting back to a normal writing schedule! thank you for waiting & i love you guys 🖤

chapter summary: you never can keep your hands off him with the studio door closed, and he doesn't seem to mind

warnings: nothing specific for this chapter

pairings: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, angst, romance, ateez ensemble x reader, polyamory, non-idol!reader, fem!reader, eventual smut

word count: 5.1K

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It’s nearly nine o’clock by the time you and Hongjoong remember that dinner exists and is a thing you’re probably supposed to eat. You’ve been locked together for hours, the workday fading away into background noise and nothing but both of your personal projects open in front of you as you work together.

You pull your headphones off as you check the time and grimace, at this hour the only people left in the building would be cleaning staff and maybe Eden, and the restaurants that you can think of to order from are getting ready to start closing.

“Joong,” you nudge his arm, and he holds up a loose hand, asking you silently to give him a minute.

You watch the way he studies his screen, and he nods as he finishes out his thought to himself, before sliding off his own headphones and cracking his neck, “What’s up?”

You rub your eyes a little, “We should get some food,”

“Ah,” he checks his phone, “probably,”

“You have a heavy schedule tomorrow,” you nudge him, “you should eat and make sure you’re ready for it.”

He sighs and stretches in his chair, “I’m fine,”

“Sure,” you nod, “but you should still eat something.”

“Mm,” he nods, and you can see the exhaustion in his eyes as he thinks it through. He seems torn between ordering in and staying at the office or heading home and picking up food on the way, he’s easy to read that way.

“We should cut it for tonight,” you offer, “don’t you have to be up at five?”

“Oh, I know,” he shrugs, “but I’m feeling good and I’m on a roll,”

“Okay,” you nod, pulling out your phone, “what’s open around here right now?”

“y/n,” Hongjoong leans forwards in his chair, resting a hand on your knee softly, “you don’t have to stay with me, you know. If you’d rather go home and get some rest,”

“Oh,” you meet his eyes, “if you want some space to work alone you can always ask me,”

“Oh no, no,” he shakes his head vehemently, resting his other hand on your other knee, “I like having you here, I just don’t want you to stay just for me if you’re tired,”

“I’m not tired,” you shake your head, though if you were being honest, you really, really are.

After a moment, with his hands still on you, he leans forwards a little in his chair, “I should be asking you what you need, I’m sorry. What do you want to eat? My treat, and we can work wherever you want, here or home,”

You know things like this are hard for him. You’ve noticed the way he separates himself from the group a little, intensely focused on his work and filling his personal time with more and more music. He takes his leadership position seriously, but that also means he gets singularly focused, fixated, and forgetful about the little things. Being in a relationship with him could easily be trying if you weren’t passionate about the same things, and if this were a normal partnership, you’re sure you’d barely see him.

“I’ll eat anything,” you shrug, “but let’s go home, I think a change of scenery would be good.”

“We can do that,” he assures you.

You turn in your chair to reach for your laptop and close it, but Hongjoong makes no moves to follow you, or to take his hands off you and you glance back, realizing that he’s watching you with a disconnected look in his eyes.

You pull back to center and catch his eyes, “You’re exhausted, I can tell,”

He shakes his head, “It’s not that,”

He’s lying to you, just a little white lie, but you don’t press him. His thumb massages a circle on your knee through the fabric of your trousers, and he presses his lips together in a tight line for a moment. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when he reaches for you, pulling you forwards quickly and locking his mouth to yours.

              You make a squeak of surprise, certainly not expecting him to kiss you, but recover quickly, relaxing into his touch. It’s been weeks since you arrived, and you were spending more and more time with him, but up to this point he’s never made a move. You were used to the boys cornering you in the kitchen now or pulling you into their arms to cuddle on the couch, but Hongjoong never did.

              He cups the back of your neck with his warm hand and sighs against your mouth, his other hand sliding up the outside of your thigh. Your knees part, and he slides his chair forwards, your legs interlocking now as he deepens the kiss, probing your mouth with his tongue.

              You push forwards, one of your hands anchored on his shoulder while the other holds onto his upper arm. He kisses with intensity, and this is the first time it feels like he’s throwing out the need to think things through and instead just feel. The position between the chairs isn’t conducive to anything more, but you gasp against his mouth when his hand slips under the hemline of your shirt to find your bare back.

              His teeth catch your bottom lip as you pull away and when your eyes flutter back open to meet his, his direct stare burns through you, the sensation of his skin on yours, a sudden curling tightness in your gut.

              “Joong,” you breathe, but you can’t quite come up with anything more to say.

              His hands slip off you and he pushes his chair back and away, moving to stand and pack up his bag. He keeps his eyes away from you, and the sudden tension between you doesn’t make sense, the way he seems to be running hot and cold. You watch him for a minute, still not meeting your eyes and focused on packing up his things, clearing his throat quietly shrugging on his coat, pulling a beanie on over his hair.

              Standing, you approach him and rest a hand on his arm, “What’s wrong?”

              “What?” He glances to the side at your hand on his arm and shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing.”

              “Then what’s all this?” You nod towards him, “You’re acting strange.”

              His face clears and he finally looks back to you, “I’m sorry,” he says genuinely.

              You move around to face him eye to eye and rest your hands on his forearms, “So, what’s wrong?”

              He shakes his head, “We just shouldn’t do that here,”

              “Oh,” you nod, “of course, but it’s okay, we’re alone.”

              “y/n,” he sighs.

              “I’m not saying we should,” you clarify, “I’m saying you don’t need to be upset, we slipped for a second but we’re alone in a room without windows. No one saw us, and we won’t do it again.”

              He considers your words for a moment and nods. “It’s my fault,” he says, “I had a momentary lapse in judgement,”

              “It’s okay,” you repeat, “but you know, it was nice. For later, at home.”

              He smiles finally, “I’m sorry I panicked,”

              “It’s fine,” you assure him.

              “It was nice though,” he smiles, quirking an eyebrow at you, “right?”

              “Really, really nice,”

              He watches you for a moment, considering, and then he’s crowding you again before you can take another breath, pushing into your space suddenly and walking you backwards until your back connects with the door. His mouth secures to yours and his hands are suddenly everywhere. His bag slips from his shoulder, landing softly with a thud on the ground and he deepens the kiss, a groan on his lips as he presses his body against yours.

              You stretch up on tip toe to match his height better and loop your arms around his shoulders, his hands slip inside your shirt, pushing up the fabric just enough for one hand to coast warmly along your stomach before anchoring on your hip. His tongue flicks against yours, and his fingers squeeze you perfectly, one of his knees slotting between your open thighs.

              “Hongjoong,” you murmur against his mouth, “we have to stop,”

              “I know,” he says when he breaks the kiss for a moment, but he drags you back to his mouth, his hands rucking up your shirt higher.

              You gasp against his lips as his fingers brush the underside of your breast, coasting along the mesh of your bra and cupping the soft swell in his palm. Things are escalating quickly, and when he pulls you from your closed in position against the door to walk you back to the couch and push you gently down onto the cushions you feel your brain spinning.

              “Oh my god,” you groan against his lips when he settles above you between your now open knees, dropping his weight down above you and cupping your jaw as he devours your mouth again.

              “You’re so,” he shakes his head, regarding you in the dim studio light, “fuck, I don’t know,”

              You smile up at him, “What is it?”

              “You make me want to do stupid things, y/n,” he bites his lip quickly as he looks down at you, “and this is really, really stupid,”

              “We should stop,” you tell him honestly, even though you want nothing more than to keep going right here on this couch, “the door’s not even locked,”

              He blinks and glances over his shoulder, remembering himself immediately and pushing up and off you, clearing his throat and sighing, “We need to go home,”

              “Yeah,” you agree, pulling yourself up and smoothing down your hair, “home,”

              He starts to pack up your bag for you, letting you take a minute to right your clothes and look a little less conspicuous. When he turns back to you, he smiles and passes you the bag, “You should fix your lipstick,”

              Your hand flies to your lips and you blush before rifling through your back for the little hand mirror you know is somewhere inside, “How bad is it?”

              “You look pretty thoroughly kissed,” he grins suddenly, looking proud of himself as he picks up his bag from the floor and hitches it over his shoulder.

              When you catch sight of yourself, he’s absolutely right, the pinkness of your lipstick smudged away fully in a hazy smear, and you do your best to control the obvious mess with a tissue and a fresh coat of gloss. “We can’t do that here again, someone will say something,”

              “You’re right,” he nods, “it was a one-time thing,”

              You stand and slip the mirror away, meeting his eyes, “Exactly, but… if do you want to kiss me, you can kiss me at home, you know,”

              He makes a little face, a slight grimace, and hums, “I don’t really like to share,”

              Your gut tightens, “Hongjoong, you’re not... I don’t want to come between,”

              “It’s not that,” he interrupts, “I don’t mean it that way,”

              “How do you mean it?”

              “I’m not,” he shifts from foot to foot and searches for the right words, his eyes leaving yours, “I’m not comfortable with this kind of thing with other people around. And we’re never alone,”

              “Oh,” it clicks into place, “you don’t like public displays of affection,”

              “Right,” he nods.

              “You could have told me,” You nudge his arm, “I think we could have figured out ways to be alone if that’s what you wanted. I thought you were just giving me space or something,”

              “That too,” he takes your hand in his, “but I don’t know, I can never relax like that. Not like the others can,”

              “That’s okay,” you assure him.

              “It would be easier if I was more like that, I know that,” he smiles, closed lipped and seeming apologetic, “but it’s not something I can easily do,”

              “I’m not asking you to,” you shake your head, “I like you. I like you like this, no other way.”

              “I like you too,” he squeezes your hand in his.

              “Let’s go home,” you squeeze him back, “let’s get some food, and get some more work done, and if you want to continue this, just come to my room later. It doesn’t have to be a whole thing,”

              He nods, “I’d like that,”

              “Good,” you sigh and lean in quick to press a fast kiss to his lips, “I would too, now let’s get going,”

              He smiles at you again and picks up your bag to hand it back to you before slinging his own over his shoulder. This time, you make it to the door successfully and as you leave the building, a good foot of space between you now that there’s a possibility someone could see you.

              On the way home in the back of the manager’s van you talk about work more, you pick up udon on the way and slip into the dorms with a couple of bags of takeout and a plan. The dorms are fairly quiet, they’ve had a lighter schedule before the next few days of back-to-back shooting and late nights. Wooyoung is visiting his family and Seonghwa is out with old friends, and you suspect the others are tucked away in their rooms to get some rest before the early morning.

              Hongjoong reassembles his portable workstation on the acrylic coffee table as you lay out the food, sorting though and popping open the containers. “I’m getting a water,” you tell him as you head into the kitchen, “do you want anything?”

              “Um,” he trails off, and you know he’s thinking about something else, “yeah, yes,”

              When you come back, two glasses of water in hand, you can’t help but smile. He’s rearranged the food slightly so that your laptop and headphones can sit on the coffee table too, and he’s poking through your bag to find the notebook and pen you favor to scribble down relevant thoughts to yourself. He hears you return, tossing a glance in your direction and you see one of his cheeks is already full with a dumpling.

              “Mm,” he says, mouth still full, “do you want to go through these new audio samples with me?”

              You nod, setting your glasses down and settling on the floor next to him, pulling your knees up to your chest and grabbing a container off the table to get something in your stomach. “What have you got?”

              “I’m thinking about something different for my project,”

              You listen as he sifts through files on his laptop, pausing every so often to take another bite of food. He explains, walking through what he’s looking for and asking your thoughts. You’ve come to find out that with Hongjoong, if he’s not working on a project for Ateez, he’s working on something personal. He has a back catalogue of partially complete songs and files upon files on his computer of samples and rap verses.

              When you first started working with him, you tried suggesting that he rest or relax – to try just watching a movie or hanging out, but the truth of it is that if he’s not making music, he’s thinking about music, so you let that notion go quickly.              

              Somewhere around the bottom of your bowl of noodles you hear him sigh, heavy, and scrub his eyes. He hasn’t found what he wants yet, and the thought deep in his brain must be specific. You don’t know Eden well yet, but when Hongjoong is like this he reminds you of him, just a little less polished and a little more chaotic, though that could certainly just be the years of experience.

              “Sometimes walking away for a bit helps,” you remind him as you set your empty container back on the table, “if I can’t figure it out, I don’t force it.”

              “Mm,” he nods and leans back against the edge of the couch behind you, “you’re right, it’s just bothering me.”

              You shift, propping up one arm on the couch cushion and leaning your chin in your hand, angling towards him fully now, “I understand,”

              He gives you a small smile and blinks hard, and you can tell he’s exhausted and just trying to shake off the tiredness.

              “Hongjoong,” you murmur, “do you always work this hard?”

              His lips quirk and he turns his body towards yours on the floor, your knees pressed against each other and he gets comfortable and takes a mental moment away from the task at hand. “It’s not always work,”

              “I know,” you nod, “believe me I get that,”

              “Mhm,” he nods, “how’s your stuff coming along?” He gestures towards your open laptop, and you smile. He’s been watching you work on some personal projects every night for weeks and short of asking his opinion on small things, he hasn’t really heard the near finished product of your newest piece.

              “Good,” you reply, “do you want to hear it?”

              “All of it?” he perks up.

              “Yeah,”

              “Let’s go,” he gestures towards your laptop and as you reach over to get your headphones for him and move the laptop closer, he stretches and stands, moving to the couch behind your back and laying down on his back, reaching out a hand for the headphones.

              “What are you doing?” You laugh, handing them over.

              “Giving it my full attention,” he settles the headphones over his ears and gets comfortable.

              “Okay,” you wait for him to give you the go ahead, and then you press play and watch him sink into it. With a sigh, you lean back against the couch, keeping your eyes away from him so you don’t make yourself nervous about his reaction and you wait.

              Hongjoong reaches out, settling his hand on your shoulder before sliding it to rest against your neck and you feel his thumb tapping out a rhythm on your skin. His hand slows, stilling and relaxing against you, and you wait longer.

              You watch the song draw to a close on your laptop, and still, he doesn’t move. You chew the inside of your lip and wait, fingers bouncing on your knee, but when you finally twist your head to see his reaction, you realize he’s asleep. His mouth is parted, breathing steady and slow, and his expression is finally relaxed. You know he’s been exhausted.

              Quietly you remove the headphones from his head and move slowly, hoping not to wake him, but he barely shifts. He’s already sleeping heavily, and only when you shift forwards to pull your laptop closer, his hand on your shoulder tightens slightly. You want to wake him and put him to bed, you want to put yourself to bed, but after days of running late nights and his early day tomorrow you don’t have the heart to move.

              It’s late, but you can stay up a little longer, you can give him some time to rest. Within minutes you’re back to work, and twenty minutes turn into forty as you edit.

              “He’s asleep early,” Seonghwa’s low voice startles you slightly and you jump, pulling off your headphones completely and turning to look.

              Hongjoong’s hand is still resting on your shoulder, and you see the way that Seonghwa notes it. Early for Hongjoong is any time before two in the morning, and Seonghwa smiles as he comes around the couch and gets a good look at you both.

              “Did you just get home?” You ask him quietly.

              “Mhm,” he nods, slipping off his oversized brown blazer and laying it over the back of a chair, “I haven’t caught up with my hometown friends in a while, so we just kept talking,”

              “That’s nice,” you smile, and glance down at where Hongjoong’s hand has now shifted in his sleep to sit a little lower and splay over your shoulder and onto your chest.

              “Did he…” Seonghwa considers his words for a moment and then shrugs, “did you go on a date or something?”

              You can’t help but laugh, “No, no, just a late night at the studio and I’m trying to make sure he eats something more substantial than a protein bar.” You gesture to the empty containers around you.

              Hongjoong makes a grumbled noise behind you and rolls over suddenly, his hand disappearing over your shoulder as he tucks himself up tightly facing the back of the couch and sighs heavy in his sleep. Seonghwa smiles warmly, his eyes on his friend. “You’ve been staying late with him, I hardly see you,”

              “I know,” you sigh, “but I just feel like I can’t get enough of the studio,”

              “That’s good,” he nods, “you should love it,”

              “It’s hard to leave him when he’s working, too,” you glance back at Hongjoong’s sleeping form.

              “Mm,” Seonghwa shifts to come and sit on the floor by you, keeping your voices low, “I know what you mean.”

              You’re quiet for a beat, enjoying his sudden closeness and warmth after missing each other for days, “Did you want some of the food? We have plenty left,” you offer him.

              “Maybe in a bit,” he smiles, “but we have an early day tomorrow,”

              “I know,” you nod your head towards Hongjoong, “that’s why I’m glad he’s sleeping. He needs the rest.”

              Seonghwa nods and looks at his friend again, “Let me help you clean this up,” he says gesturing towards the containers on the coffee table and pulling himself to his feet. He packs up the food with ease and you move to help him, shutting Hongjoong’s laptop and tucking it back into his bag to protect it from any potential spills. Quietly you both wrap up the food nod toss any of the trash in a bag, and Seonghwa wipes off the table and sets the remote back to its rightful place.

              “Come this way,” Seonghwa waves you over and you follow him into the kitchen, helping him tuck the leftovers away in the fridge.

              He sighs and leans back against the counter, “I didn’t want to wake him, and we can talk a little better here.”

              You nod and step towards him, and he rests his hands comfortably on your hips, “Good idea,”

              “How are things, love?” He murmurs, bringing you another step closer and keeping his voice soft and low.

              “Busy,” you rest your hands on his chest to balance yourself better as he wraps his arms around you a little more, “I knew it would be, but I don’t know how you all do it.”

              “We’re used to it,” he tells you, “but it’s still hard.” He reaches up, cupping your cheek softly in his hand, “You shouldn’t work yourself too hard. Are you eating well? Getting rest?”                     

              The way he looks at you has you warm, his eyes soft and round and full of gentle concern. You shake your head, leaning your cheek into his hand as you do, “I’m good, I promise. It’s a busy schedule, but I like busy.”

              “Would you tell me if you need a break?” One of his eyebrows raise.   

              “Seonghwa,” you shake your head, “you don’t have to take care of me too,”

              He rolls his eyes a little and his hand slips back to hold your neck, his thumb brushing against your jawline, “y/n,” he smiles, “we’re dating, it’s okay to let us take care of you. That’s what people in relationships do for each other. Besides,” he sighs, “I can’t help it, I’m always fussing over everyone.”

              “That’s true,” you tease him a little.

              “Mm,” he nods, his hand tightening on your back as he holds you steady so that he can dip down and kiss you warmly, “So, would you tell me?”

              “If you want me to,” you shake your head, kissing him again and pressing up on your toes to meet his mouth better.

              “Good,” he nuzzles you gently with his nose and his hand slips down to hold your lower back.

              Leaning back from him you meet his eyes, “I am sorry we’ve been missing each other though,” you tell him honestly, “I’ve missed this too,”

              He nods, but before he can respond the light in the kitchen clicks on above you and you both squint at the sudden bright change. You turn, still held in Seonghwa’s arms, and see Jongho padding into the room, a yawn on his lips.

              “Oh,” you move to step away from Seonghwa, leaning into the knee jerk reaction to limit public affection, but Seonghwa doesn’t move except to drop his hands back to your hips and Jongho shakes his head.

              “Relax,” he tells you, reaching up in the cabinet for a glass and then moving to stand next to you and fill his glass with cold water. His hair is mussed, and he’s dressed as casually as you’ve ever seen him, loose white t-shirt and navy sweatpants that hang off his hips and accentuate his muscular build.

              “Can’t sleep?” Seonghwa murmurs.

              Jongho shakes his head, “I keep waking up,”

              “Is something bothering you?” Seonghwa asks, and you feel his hands loosen on your sides as he assesses his friend’s face.

              Jongho shakes his head though and tips the glass back to gulp down half of the water, throwing the tap back on and filling it again, “No, just a little restless.”

              Seonghwa nods, “It’s late,”

              “I’m going to try to get some more sleep, you should too,” You’re sure he’s thinking of their early schedule and his pending alarm. He turns to you, meeting your eyes with a sleepy smile, “Goodnight, y/n,”

              “Night, Jongho,” you murmur, and he squeezes your shoulder before heading back to the door of the kitchen.

              He disappears around the corner, leaving the light on, and when you look back to Seonghwa you see the tired expression on his face despite his smile and flirty nature.

              “I should let you sleep,” you lean into him again, “and I have an early wake up too.”

              “Mm, I know you’re right,” he murmurs.

              “Come on,” you step back from him fully now, and he lets his hands fall away, “we should sleep but I’ll be home when you all get back tomorrow. We can spend some time together if you’re not too exhausted,”

              He nods, “I’d like that,”

              You click the light off, and you hear him follow you out of the room. In the living room, Hongjoong stays tucked towards the back of the couch, sleeping silently. Seonghwa moves past you, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch and shaking it loose, tucking it around Hongjoong. He picks up Hongjoong’s cell off the table and keys in the passcode, navigating to his clock app and flicking through the alarms. He flips four of them on, all separated by five minutes each, checks the volume on the ringer, and leaves the phone on the table.       

              “Shouldn’t we make him sleep in his own bed?” You whisper.

              “If we wake him up, he’ll just stay up. It’s better to let him sleep here,” Seonghwa says.

              “Ah,” you nod, “let him rest then.”

              Behind the couch Seonghwa pulls you back to him quickly, a soft smile on his lips before he captures your mouth in a kiss. He holds you close, kissing you tenderly before moving away and pressing another quick peck to your hair, “Okay, okay, get to bed,”

              “You too,” you push him away and take a step back, unable to stop smiling at his reluctance to leave you and the butterflies it gives you before he disappears around the corner for bed.

              In the morning, everyone is up and bustling around before you’d normally wake, but the noise gets you up and know there’s no getting back to sleep now. They’re supposed to be filming for the entire day, and you know they won’t be back until late at night, probably after ten. The office was going to be quieter without them, and with no dance practice to go to after your regular workday, you’ll have the night strangely to yourself.

              You’re fixing yourself coffee when Hongjoong’s voice behind you makes you jump and almost drop the sugar spoon.

              “I fell asleep on you last night,” he says, but when he watches you jump, he rushes to apologize, “Sorry, sorry, good morning,”

              “Morning,” you smile, turning and laughing, “I know, I just thought you could use the rest,”

              “Mm,” he nods, “Still, I’m sorry, I wanted to spend some more time with you,”

              The innuendo wouldn’t be obvious to anyone, but after the fevered kisses in the studio and your offer for him to come to your room, you know what he means. Your cheeks heat a little, and it catches you how handsome he is like this – bare faced and relaxed, a backwards cap covering his hair and his clothes casual and oversized since the stylists would be dressing them on site.

              He smiles at your expression, noting your pink cheeks, and he softly clears his throat, “Have a good day at the office today,”

              “Thanks,” behind you the rest of the boys are bumping into each other and trying to get ready in the small space, but you take the moment to reach out and take Hongjoong’s hand, squeezing once and then letting it go. His eyes flick over you, and as you start to tell him to have a good day, to be safe, he closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours.

              He leans in a little further, his hand anchoring on your waist, and you sigh into his touch, kissing him back until he finally leans away and drops his hands. His back is to the rest of the members, but no one is really watching. There’s a lingering smile on Seonghwa’s mouth that you catch, but there’s no telling exactly what put it there.

              “Okay,” Hongjoong nods, looking a little lighter, “I’ll see you later then,”

              “Yeah,”

              “I’ll finish listening to the song tonight, okay?” He tells you, “I do really want to hear it,”

              At the commotion behind you in the living room you usher him out, pushing him towards the door, “I know,”

              It’s still dark outside as their cars all pull away, leaving you alone in the dorms to get ready for work. You’re getting the sense that these odd hours and difficult schedules are going to get worse over the next few months with a comeback on the horizon and a tour scheduled after that. The least you can do is be helpful, to try and lessen their stress even a little, and if they can work as hard as they’re working, you can too.

a/n: next chapter is in the works! hoping to post next weekend and get back on a normal schedule! after that i already have chapters 14 through 19 mostly complete!

💌 - taglist:  @butterfliesinthenightsky @stitch3s @flowerboykun @theartofhotchinthesnow @spookydanielle @mangislovur @inarinabina @justanotherkpopstanlol @parkurhope @bikou0327 @teti-menchon0604 @becauseiloveyunho @stardustmoonlightteaandbooks @yeosangsbiceps @auhhrii @multifandomizer @softsugababes @amazingly-amazing-loser @bangtanxberm @nyxmoon @xosim @arkive78 @elk-1998 @tenebrisirae @mysticfire0435 @jo-hwaberry @ddeonghwva @meginthebuilding27 @sookacc @noonaishere @lucenchan @asjkdk @yunhosprettyhand @realliquanzhe @simplyaghostsworld

#into the aurora series #into the aurora fic #ateez series #ateez fic #ateez #seonghwa #hongjoong #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #honeyhotteoks fics

[jinkookspencil]

3:21pm | ksj

seokjin calls you out of the blue on a regular workday… he just wants to show you something

description/tw: seokjin drabble / ~0.9k words / seokjin x reader (f) / fluff / established relationship / slice of life? / inspired by a scene in a kdrama / non-idol au

“Do you think you can sneak out for literally just five minutes?”

A quiet, productive day at work was made far more enjoyable by a random call from your boyfriend, who rushed straight to the point with his question. “I want to show you something,” he quickly added.

It hadn’t even been a complete minute since Seokjin called, but you were already outside your building on the busy Seoul street, watching the pastel cherry blossom petals fall onto the pavement on the beautiful spring day. Had Seokjin not called, you doubted you'd have caught such a perfect moment, and it was only made better by the fact that you were going to see him. It was hard to tell what you were waiting for, but you barely had time to wonder.

“JAGIYA!”

The all-too-familiar, loud, loving voice interrupted your peace and everyone else’s, coming from all the way from the corner of the block. Seokjin jumps into a sprint the moment you spot him, reaching you in seconds. You’d noticed how red his skin had been from afar, and his pause and panting as it faded to a lighter shade of pink before your eyes only confirmed that he’d been running the entire way there. Bending over with hands on his thighs and his head lowered, he tries to catch his breath.

“You okay?” you ask with a slight giggle, rubbing his shoulder. At that, he finally looks up and straightens himself, and it’s hard to think of anything else. Seokjin was handsome, so incredibly handsome that it never felt like a largely agreed-upon opinion but practically a fact. And just when you thought you’d gotten used to his beauty, here he was, looking better than ever, which you didn't think was even possible. His hair was a perfect mess of short, curly, and wavy locks, his skin glistening, and his white shirt so perfectly fitted onto his broad body - loose and tight in all the right places - with a couple of buttons undone. It was a crime to look that good, especially after what must’ve been a ten-minute run at least.

“Seokjin, you look…”

“Amazing, right?” he says with a smile, hiding a deep breath he had to take. “I know. That’s what I wanted to show you!”

Ever since you laid eyes on him, you’d entirely forgotten that he was there to ‘show you something,’ as he had said.

“I finished up my first meeting, caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, and just thought I looked really sexy so I wanted to show you.” The smile on his face quickly turns into a smirk as he outstretches his arms. “Am I right, or am I right?”

“You’re right… you looked just as hot last night, though,” you tease, poking his chest. He quickly pulls you into a hug, and you don’t shy away from feeling his back beneath the fabric, clenching the soft cotton that clung to his muscles so well while resisting the urge to rip it off then and there.

Luckily for the both of you, he pulls away, resting his hands on your waist while you continue to hold onto his shoulders.

“I have another meeting in like 7 minutes, so I just ran immediately. I was halfway here before I stopped to think you might’ve been busy, and that’s when I called you. A video call wouldn’t have been enough. I wanted to see you….” he says, his voice lowering as he went on, staring intently at your lips before a loud car passing by reminded you both that you were in public. Seokjin’s eyes blink repeatedly, an everyday habit of his, now done as a response when snapped back into reality and away from his thoughts.

“And I mean, come on, we both know a video call wouldn’t be able to capture all this,” he says while gesturing to himself.

“But you do look extra handsome today, Seokjin. It's not fair. And it really isn't fair that I can't do something about it right now. What’s so different today? Have I seen this shirt before?”

“You have. I know I look… really good. I think it’s because I feel really good. I’m having a good day. My meeting went well, as I texted you, but I’ve been giddy all day. That’s why it went so well I think… I’m pretty sure it’s all because my day started out... perfectly,” he winks, immediately taking you back to the morning you’d spent in each other's arms before you each had to rush out and get to work. You rub his shoulder, smiling up at the beautiful soul you loved so much while he takes your hand and places a quick kiss on your knuckles. “How’s your day, honey?”

“Amazing, Seokjin. Nothing noteworthy from work - smooth sailing. This was the highlight of my day, bub,” you smile.

“I’m so happy, honey. So…..sexy, huh?”

“Extraordinarily.”

“Good. You too, as always,” he chuckles, kissing your cheek. “Listen, I gotta go. My next meeting starts in 5, and it’s 10 minutes away. I’ll see you later.”

You nod, slowly letting go of your boyfriend, who jogs back to the corner of the block, smiling wide when he turns back and sees you still standing there, watching him.

“Call me! I love you!”

Seokjin dashes off before you could reply. It was hard to not run after him, grab him by the hand and jump to the future you’d imagined together. To that shared dream of living in a seaside home when you’re older, spending your days doing nothing but your hobbies and each other. Still, if this was what a regular day being together would be like in the meantime, you’d safely consider yourself the luckiest, happiest person in the entire world.

#jin fluff #jin fic #jin fanfic #jin fanfiction #jin scenario #jin imagine #jin scenarios #jin au #seokjin fic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #seokjin imagine #seokjin drabble #jin drabble #seokjin scenarios #seokjin #seokjin scenario #kim seokjin x you #seokjin x you #jin x you #jin x reader #bts fluff #bts fic #bts drabble #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #jin oneshot #seokjin one shot

[helpinghanikan]

Open wide for Steven

Steven Grant x reader

Sum: Smut. Oral this time.

Spread them for Marc

Bend over for Jake

It’s a standing date night that brough you to Steven’s place after work. Since he’s accidentally stood you up more than once this was the only way you’d agree to another date. Even if the workday was hard and you had yet to shower or change before reaching his door.

Although unlocked you still knocked before just barging in. Immediately starting on your practiced speech for why you should just stay in tonight.

“Hey, Steven. It’s been a long day and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind- oh.”

Your interrupt yourself by finally seeing the apartment. The candles set up on any available shelf, flowers (mainly roses) in vases on the tables in the living room and kitchen. Enough lights were out to make the entire room dim. With the candles a mood was definitely set. Especially when Steven stepped out from the kitchen with two wine glasses.

“I messed up again, I know. But this time it wasn’t my fault; the host didn’t get down our reservation when I called and the next one wasn’t until nine. I figured we could just stay in instead?” Steven explained but you weren’t listening. What he was saying was probably important and all but it’s hard to focus when Steven is clearly only wearing a robe.

“Yeah, uh-huh.” You say, dropping your bag and coat without caring about the mess they made.

It was only a few steps to get into Steven’s space. He only having enough time to place the wine glasses on the table before you were practically chest to chest. Your hands toyed at the collar of his robe, eyes drifting between his lips and his exposed chest.

And yet Steven felt the need to explain himself.

“I swear I didn’t do this on purpose. This whole ruining our dates thing, I don’t- I would never…” He trails off, letting himself be interrupted by the soft kiss you gave.

It’s nice, downright cute, to have a man care this much about your date. That he thinks about your feelings beyond anything else. As a human he couldn’t fix past mistakes or change things that simply can’t be changed, but he can apologize. And he does that plenty, enough that his anxiety can be seen through the love. Most could say the same, though.

“It’s okay,” You say, holding his face. “The last thing I want is to put on heels tonight, anyway.”

He tastes like garlic and spices. Taste testing while cooking was likely the cause. You kiss him harder to get a better taste. Biting down on his bottom lip to distract from your coldish hands sliding through his robe.

“I made food too.” He says, voice heavy from the kisses.

There’s no way he didn’t say this on purpose. You hummed in response. Taking hold of the belt in a loose knot. It would be so easy to simply pull and take the barrier away. Steven knowing this too, based on the look in his eye when you smile at him.

“How cheesy would it be if I said I’m hungry for something else?” You ask, pulling the knot free without breaking eye-contact.

“Personally, I like cheese.” He says, kissing you this time.

He semi-hard when you sink down to the floor. Making him agonize by slowly sliding your hands down his chest, his stomach, and down to his thighs. The thighs you hold firmly to sit up slightly and kiss his tummy just below the belly button. He moans at the warmth of your lips but hisses when you blow lightly over your kiss marks.

Steven is the stone you sculpt with a blowjob. You can chip away that the harsh edges with kisses on his inner thighs. Feel the stone become smooth from your spit coated hand sliding from root to tip and then back down.

Steven was better than stone, though. He responds with moans that grow with every stroke. Downright gasping when your lips take control of his tip. He looks down to you as if he were surprised that this was your intention. Hands grabbing the table behind him to try and pretend that he had some control in the action.

If previous attempts were anything to go by you weren’t going to be able to take him all in. Instead you had to settle with half-way before your gag reflex stops you. Your hands taking over what your mouth couldn’t.

“Love, Love, I need- Oh!” Steven says to the ceiling, his hand on the back of your head.

He always becomes chatty when getting close. Anything short of your safe word couldn’t stop you. That and Steven suddenly pulling your hair harshly away from him.

“Ow, A little rough, babe.” You said, reaching back to get his hand off your head.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He says, letting go of your hair and dropping to his knees to be eyelevel. “I had to stop before I’d ruin this. I’m supposed to be seducing you, not the other way around.”

You laugh while putting you arms around his shoulders. Pressing your foreheads together and giving another kiss. “That I’m ready to take your cock on sight probably means your seduction worked, Babe.” You say, another kiss on his lips.

“This is still to make it up to you,” Steven looks around the room for a second. Kissing his cheek you didn’t think about anything else except this cute man. “Sit on my face.”

That brought you back. Leaning away from him to see his face that was now grinning at your reaction. It’s his turn to kiss you before standing up and walking towards the living room.

“Sit, like sit on you?” You tried to clarify. “I’m not exactly light. I’m gonna hurt you.”

Sitting with his legs out on the living room carpet Steven just nods. Reaching his arms out towards you like an angel welcoming you to heaven. Instead of telling you to be not afraid he simply said; “I have insurance. Come here.”

It’s embarrassing to admit that you were excited. Even standing wasn’t fast enough as you crawled towards him. Another kiss and another question of if he really really wanted to do this.

He nods. “There has to be a reason I was given this thick head, Love. Just the panties need to go if that helps. Everything else can stay on.”

The skirt you wore today was a circle. Just long enough to reach your knees and fluffy enough that you could hide the removal of your compression shorts and underwear. It was hard to be sexy while wiggling out of those shorts, luckily Steven was too busy moving the coffee table to notice. Not that he cared, immediately going back to his sitting position.

“Ready?” He asks as you sit next to his head while he lays down.

“Are you absolutely sure? I don’t know how I’m gonna explain this to an ER nurse.”

“Tell them I suffocated in heaven.”

Although you laugh at it you still have to be safe. “Seriously, Steven. Tap out twice when it gets too much. Okay?”

Steven nods, head rested on the floor. “Twice tap if I go insane, understood.”

Simply crawling over him is awkward. It takes a second but the easiest was simply to swing your leg over him and just straddle his face. Your thigh muscles strain for a second to keep from completely taking a seat. Steven putting a stop to that by holding your hips and pulling down hard.

He start by licking but just opening his mouth against your lower lips. Hot air so close, so intense against your lips was almost enough to jump a bit. Steven keeping you in place to slide his tongue between your lips, licking them open to your entrance and back.

Most of Steven’s torso is hidden by your skirt. It’s only by the shuffling under your skirt that you know he is holding your hips to stay in position. Something you started fighting against without meaning to. Instead of grinding back and forth like you wanted you could only roll your hips in little circles. Making an almost game out of dodging Steven’s tongue on your clit. A double-edged sword but still fun to hear his annoyance under your thighs.

Steven moves his hands from your hips to your ass. Squeezing firmly to have as a control. Now pushing you back and forth over his face. Tongue dragging over your clit as the absolute tip of his nose bumps at your entrance.

“There we go…” You encourage, leaning forward over his body.

Somehow your brain is still operating during all this. While warmth and pleasant pressure overwhelm your pelvis and thighs, your mouth waters for a job unfinished.

Steven’s robe is completely open. Cock still hard and wet from your spit that curves slightly towards his stomach. A drop touches onto his stomach. Your leaning farther forward, Steven taking the chance to take a longer lick through your lips, and shudder before getting to your destination. Steven licks you like this again, doing so slowly and deeply. Good for a feeling but not enough to build towards a release.

Out of revenge you take Steven’s cock back in hand. Not giving him enough time to comprehend as, with two strokes, he is back in your mouth. One hand holding it up to position as your head bobs up and down.

Steven has completely stopped his movements. You could hear the shudder and moan that goes through him as you bob. Smiling around the cock that you drooled around without shame.

Without any words or agreement this has become a contest. You had the advantage of a head start and sight, but Steven was downright cheating. Using his hand to slide up and into your entrance with two fingers so his tongue could focus on pressing and turning your clit until silence was no longer an option.

He groaning just as loudly as your mouth vibrates around his cock. Taking your mouth from him completely and swirling around the tip. Licking up and down the sides as if you could clean it all with just your mouth. The mess only coming back when you stroke up and down, thumbing over his tip and back down, smearing pre-cum just to lick it up again.

Steven has brought out the big guns with the switching of his fingers and tongue. Sliding the clitoris between two fingers while his tongue fucks your hole. His remaining hand pulls your hips down as best he could, His tongue so deep he would drown before suffocating.

That warmth is traveling, taking over, your body. Pressure from your pelvis now in your nipples and chest. Like you may burst from the heat of a star, only way to get it out was to open your mouth and give in. Moaning and calling out Steven’s name while pressing back as hard as you could. Rolling through the orgasm that Steven refuses to acknowledge as he continues to roll and fuck the sense out of you.

Your hands have become lazy in the wake of your orgasm. Barely pumping away at his cock that couldn’t possibly get him there.

In almost desperation you surge forward and take him into your mouth. Hands on his hips to stabilize yourself while your head moves back and down. No thought or rhyme or reason but moving with the goal of noise that starts within seconds.

You couldn’t hear the groaning and moaning that Steven makes. Holding your hips, squeezing them hard, to try and hide that he was just as bad as you were. Of course he was just as bad, probably worse. Especially when he doesn’t last very long with your mouth moving so messily.

Without warning Steven cums over your face. Mouth open in both surprise and an honest attempt to say you tried to keep a mess from being made. Licking him over the same way he did you, except he taps out and you actually obey.

Your thighs are hot and feel sticky from your cum and Steven’s spit. Your face isn’t doing much better. Semen was definitely in your hair and covered your face. This being confirmed when Steven’s eyes go wide at seeing you. Quickly becoming a laugh when you smile at him and he crawls forward for a kiss.

“I’m filthy, Steven,” You say but don’t fight when he comes in and takes the kiss. “I just wanna appreciate my handiwork.” He kisses you again, this time on the cheek.

#reader insert #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagine #steven grant x you #moon knight imagine #marvel imagine #not beta read #no y/n #sub!steven grant #fluff #I see it as fluff at least #thighs save lives #domestic

[tisorridalamor]

I almost forgot to ask: do you want to tell us about your overnight oats?

Boy do I ever!!! Please continue under the cut if you want to hear me talk about breakfast for way too long

I've posted my overnight oats recipe before but generally speaking:

1/3 cup steel cut oats*

1/3 cup milk of choice**

1/3 cup yogurt of choice***

An Amount of peanut/almond/whatever butter, honey, maple syrup, granola, nuts, fruit, jam, seeds, etc. Go crazy go stupid

*Generally the rule should be 1 part oats to 2 parts liquid, so if you want all yogurt or all milk that's fine, and increasing to 1/2 cup oats would mean 1 cup liquid, etc. Also you can play fast and loose with this rule, it doesn't have to be exact

**my favorite milk rn is oat milk! It has kind of a natural sweetness that is nice, I don't really like milk in general so I have kind of just been buying stuff at random but I think this is what I'll stick with going forward

***I'm also obsessed with plain greek yogurt (this post is making me sound like a health nut??) so I add that but any kind works. I genuinely love the taste of plain greek yogurt but getting a good vanilla or other flavored greek / non-greek yogurt is a good way to add flavor without a ton of effort or adding other things :)

Add-ins I'm fond of:

BANANAS❗ super mild so they go good with anything

sesame seeds

cashews

replacing part of the yogurt or milk with spiced apple sauce is REALLY good

cookie butter is so so so good in it if you have that. I assume any sweet spread like nutella would be great too. I got my dad these fancy peanut butters for xmas and used some in my overnight oats and they were fantastic

chocolate chips, cocoa powder

Vanilla Extract...

Dried fruit like cranberries, raisins, mango, etc.

There's also lots of ideas out there, I tried to keep the above pretty straightforward but if you web search it people are making brownie overnight oats, tiramisu overnight oats, creamsicle, carrot cake, pina colada, the list is endless. At work, my old boss had learned about my obsession and gave me a ton of these packets from an overnight oats subscription service (??? they'll make anything these days) that his wife had gotten and didn't like. I'm not interested in buying it but it gave me some fun flavor ideas that you can see on their site if you click the link!

When I get some time I want to make bubble tea overnight oats by making some good milk tea for the liquid and topping it with tapioca pearls and brown sugar syrup :) I like that if you want to make something complicated out of oats you can but it's also very easy to just mix some oats and yogurt and be done with it. I've tried multiple times to make oats on the stove top and I'm gonna be real with you I think they're better cold, idk I've gotten in friendly arguments about this irl

I'm a big breakfast person and I know it's a meal a lot of people skip or substitute with caffeine but I do think getting some real calories in your system helps as much as good sleep does. It's unfortunate that we all have to work a ton and something as simple as "making breakfast in the morning" feels like a luxury on a workday. I like that I can prep something like this a few days in advance and enjoy it at work at my leisure <3 I'm lucky I work an office job that allows me to do that lol!

#fun talk tag #ask #thank you for asking me <3 I am having so much fun. I think I said this before but I'm a mad scientist performing experiments in my kitchen #cooking and baking are one of my greatest pleasures and I love messing around with recipes #But most meals I don't make over and over again and again like I do this breakfast so it's fun to iterate and find out what I prefer :) #recipe #cooking #overnight oats

[foxys-fantasy-tales]

OC Kiss Week - Food (LyraXNoel)

This is late, but a surprise week long visit from mother-in-law and other factors have had me scrambling to do these. This one turned out really good though! Here's your first taste of some of the main characters in my book to be released in October, Made to Taste!

The hustle of working in her kitchen was nothing new, but Lyra was having difficulty keeping up tonight. Her hands flew over dish after dish as she added her usual special touches, yet she continued to disappear after about every fifth one. Her scarlet heels were kicked off in favor of a pair of folded up flats she kept in an otherwise unused drawer in the crowded room. As she wiped some sweat off her brow, Noel tapped on her shoulder and passed a glass of ice water into her hand when she turned. 

“Oh, thanks,” Lyra mumbled. The drink was sublime and soothed all the way down her parched throat. The glass was held to her forehead. Condensation fell and blended in with her own perspiration. 

“You should take a break. You’ve been in here all night long. You know I got this by now.” 

“I do.” She smiled warmly and took another sip before she could speak. “You’ve proven yourself well over the last year. That’s why.” 

The mischievous allusion flew right over his head as Rosie jumped up into the serving window from the other side. Her sing-songy tone had dropped as usual around the end of shift, but she was just as light on her feet as ever. Lavender buns were coming a tad undone over her pointed ears. Lyra stood to go warn her, but her legs wobbled and leaned her back against the counter by force. 

“I got this one,” Noel said. 

“No, really. It’s fine.”

“Stay,” he insisted. 

She watched his ice blue hair disappear from the slit of a view to the dining room. The door stopped its sway and banged back into place over the most annoying loose board in her restaurant. She had to get back to it, so with a groan of effort Lyra raised herself back to full height and returned to work. 

With the workday winding down and only that last order on her to-do list, Lyra called an early close and sent Noel to the front with Rosie to keep him preoccupied with her gossip. Sheryl had to head out for her father’s sake, so she was left plenty of space to finish up dishes. However, Noel eventually noticed how the place began to carry a sweeter scent. Her hands stopped when she heard him mention it to Rosie, but she played it off as well as Lyra could have asked for. Having a best friend with so many sugar hungry fae siblings had a perk or two. She’d get some actual cookies by the dozen for it tomorrow, if she still had feeling in her wrists at least. 

The last ring of the front doorbell signaled their patron had left. Rosie waved farewell not long after as Lyra peeked through the serving window and yelled for her to have a good rest. That only left the two, her and Noel. Her ears burned as she tried to hide a cloche  with her back, but she was far too thin for that with how Noel’s eyes trailed straight to the silver glint. 

“What’s this?” 

Well, she was going to tell him anyway. Even if it wasn’t optimal now, no way to go but forward.

“It’s, uh, a gift for you.” 

“A gift? Feel like you barely let me do a thing tonight. What would I need a gift for?” He huffed and slumped into the stool by the sink. All black clothing swallowed him up like a void while he flipped a bit of shadow between his fingers. That pout was enough to crush her.

“I thought you deserved a bit of a break. After all, you’ve taken over multiple times over the last year when I’ve been ill.” 

“Ill?” He scoffed. “You mean hurt.” His eyes closed as the shadow grew in his palm, but then it closed and the lump dissipated into wisps, then nothing. 

“Yes, hurt,” she whispered. The topic was sensitive. Not a great place to go when she meant to be romantic. No, she put too much effort into making this a surprise. 

The cloche was removed to let the salty, savory scent of nacho cheese out into the room first, but the sweet undertones followed and wrinkled up his nose with confusion. Surprise, confusion, she’d take it. 

The chair leaned back and careened back onto all four legs as he jumped up with a thump. He shrugged up his shoulders, as if stalking the plate like a hunter. 

“You don’t need to be so tight,” Lyra said. 

“You made me…cheese fries?” He swiped one to try. Once the soft crunch of the crinkle cut potato gnashed between his teeth and spread gooey cheese and mined peppers and onions along his tongue, he hummed. “Tastes just like the first you made me.” 

“Right on the money.” Lyra beamed and held another soaked fry close to his lips. He licked the cheese off slowly while making direct eye contact, causing her to drop the fry to the floor with a heavy flush of her cheeks. 

“Why’d you go and hide this then?” He chuckled. 

“W-Well,” she rasped, “It’s been a year. A year to the day has gone by since I hired that beat up guy at my restaurant who couldn’t even hardly pay for some regular fries.” 

“And yet you made a supreme platter with the works out of them along with a whiskey sour and gave them free of charge, like a madwoman.” Noel crunched into another, salivating over the delicate mix of textures and spice. There was a burger sat onto the tray as well that drew his eye. Even for her, the composition looked too perfect. 

“I gave them because you needed it. This place has always been meant to be a haven for our kind, and you aren’t the only free meal I’ve given out. But, the point here is…” Lyra paused and ran her hands over one another. They were dry and cracked from the winter cold. Even when she fed regularly, winters were hard for her kin. 

Noel paused his feast to grab both her hands and shake his head. His piercing powder blue eye and constant void of the other stared through her own until she had to duck away in shame. 

“I thought you said you were getting blood from Jasper lately.” 

“I um… I did. Once, at least, I did. I got distracted here lately. It’s been so nice to be back at work again.” 

“Lyra.” His eyes narrowed. That simple namecall was enough to make her heart race, but he added more heat with his fingers tugging gently through the red waves of her matted hair. “You should have just asked me. You know you can feed from me anytime.” 

“I know! But, since your incident… You’ve been a touch averse to seeing your own blood. I wanted to give you time to heal.” 

“You think seeing you starve is gonna help?” 

“I’ve lasted without before,” she argued. 

He held her hands up to her face. The bits of flaking skin and the off color of her skin were beginning to really show. Lyra frowned. 

“Seeing you hurt is worse for me.” Noel’s voice went low, almost husky as a bit of shadow skirted his lips and slipped back between into his mouth. He groaned and bit to vanish it like the rest. Her back arched over the counter as he leaned her back nose to nose. The beating of her heart and his were all she could hear, the call of his blood to her as her own cried out. 

She was weak to it where once she’d been so resilient. Noel was to blame. Decades of abstinence from blood, yet her fangs suck into his freely exposed neck as the butterscotch flavor suffused her with the same energy as the real thing. The rush of adrenaline and nutrients made her body sag in relief. A bit too fast, as Noel failed to catch her and they both sank to the floor together. He’d grabbed a handful of his gift, as she heard him feeding as she did. A chuckle caught too deep in her throat to hear aloud, but the sucking and soft growls were just theirs. Their little secret. 

Noel rubbed at her back with his clean hand until she finished. He was weaker, more pallid, but his smile was free and light. He reached for a dish towel to clean off the bit of blood still running before it reached his shirt, then the cheese from his fingers, or what wasn’t licked off at least. Lyra was still in a rosy haze as he stood with some support from the counter. That burger looked damn good now. He licked his lips and Lyra looked up just in time to watch him take a big bite, but he noticed too late her eyes were wide with horror. 

What was expected to be a needed boost of protein invaded his mouth with clay texture followed by the soft give of cake, then more clay that was so sweet his tongue became a sticky, terrible mess as he tried to chew and not spit. 

“It’s a cake! I thought it would be cute to make a cake to celebrate and go with the fries! Oh dear…” Lyra clasped her hands over her mouth. His face said it all, but he managed to swallow. Suddenly, pealing laughter erupted from him so hard he had to hold his stomach. 

“Don’t make it look that goddamn good then! Putting a cake next to actual food? Lyra! That’s villainous!” 

“It was supposed to be cute! You didn’t give me a chance to warn you!”

The laughter went on for a full three minutes before it began to subside. Lyra had been helped to her feet and set on the stool to give time so her feeding could kick in. Noel went back to snacking on the fries as the cake burger lay untouched.

“Was it that bad?” Lyra asked. 

“I wouldn’t say bad, but unexpected. We can share it with the others tomorrow.”

Lyra nodded. She’d bask in the shame until then. Her ears were still burning as he tucked back some of her hair. 

“Hey,” he whispered close and warmed her by a few more degrees. 

“Yes?” 

His answer was a swift kiss, so soft and sudden she’d nearly mistaken his intention before he leaned in to make it known. Shadows at his back were the last she saw as her eyes shut, then their heated grasp wrapped around her as an embrace. Her arms were entangled, but even they couldn’t tell which was the hunter now. Her fangs still glistened with blood and leaked iron into their kiss. His void threatened to pull her into a bliss she wouldn’t wish to leave. 

#ockiss23 #oc kiss week #Made to Taste #Writeblr #writblr #writers of tumblr

[bobathirstaccount]

AU - Business Trip Pt 6

You meet the new sales exec at a company offsite…

Boba x fem!reader, smut, weed smoking

***

Your friend text you during one of your 15 minute breaks in your workday. It was Wed, right before virtual All Hands - West Coast. You clicked into her text message.

-girl i know you’re gonna c it so imma lyk… go to miss bp’s insta

Stomach dropping, you did so as fast as you could. You frowned. There was a new photo of her and Boba. You read the caption, “work date ♥️”

Ugh, you thought. You text back.

-ok well they aren’t touching. So i guess she’s helping w new client?

But you didn’t feel as even keeled as your text sounded. You went back to study the photo, scolding yourself for doing so. They appeared to be in a house. You wondered whose, mood souring further. You zoomed in, feeling insane but doing it anyway. Yes, you thought you’d seen it. A bottle of wine was just visible on the left side of the photo, on a table. So, booze was involved. Work date. Work… date. Date. You signed in to All Hands, but didn’t pay attention.

***

After work, you settled into your sofa and pulled up the damn Instagram post again. It was still there, mocking you as you scrutinized it for more details. Miss BP was wearing casual clothing, very casual, you thought. She was wearing a sports bra and zip up workout top, with the zipper decidedly not zipped. Annoyed, you text your friend.

-what should i do?

-abt the pic? nothing, just wait until 2morrow.. you c him tomorrow night right?

This was true. You frowned and text back.

-yeah. But should i text him tonight?

-NO

-let him txt u tomorrow

-then NEVER bring it up… itd be super weird if u did

-fml

-ur gonna be ok. Remind him why he’s seeing U

-but what if he’s not just seeming me?

-trust me she aint got shit on you

You smiled at her compliment, but decided to go rogue against her advice. You took a shower to feel at your best, then grabbed some lingerie Boba hadn’t seen yet. An ex had gotten it for you. Was that weird? No, you decided. You slipped into it and spent 45 minutes posing in front of your full length bedroom mirror.

Finally you had it. The Perfect Shot. You edited it to enhance the Vibes it was giving. Sending it, you sat back and waited.

And waited. You started to feel a little silly. Pulling on some comfy pjs, you made a hot beverage and got into bed. You put on a movie and fell asleep to it.

***

You woke up to a block of texts from Boba. Hurriedly, you read, then reread them.

-that’s a nice little number u got on 👀

-but i think id like to take it off. If u know what i mean

-im so drunk. Accidentaly drank too much. Laying down on a couch

-cant wait 2 c u tomorrow

You smiled, but wondered where he was laying on a couch and who he’d been drinking with. You tried to put it out of your mind, but it stuck with you all through your workday. At lunch, you gave in and text him back.

-glad u liked it. Who’s boozing u up?

Was that too direct? Oh well. It was too late now. You ate your lunch and got back to work. With an hour of work left, you checked your phone. He had text back.

-work mtg w a few coworkers. One of them brought So Much wine🍷♾ After work we all tried 2 relax and relaxed too much. I slept on a couch lol haven’t done that in a long time 🤷

You thought of the wine bottle in Miss BP’s Instagram post. Dammit. You tried to respond back cheerfully.

-lol. Hope you slept alright. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you

-never. C u soon… i drive a green bentley. U sure u dont want me to come up + get you? 😎

You smiled. How gentlemanly.

-nah i just got 1 bag… i’ll meet u @ front of my complex

-ok. Can’t wait to c u 🤤

You grinned. You decided to stop work a little early to change your outfit. You had already dressed for the evening, but decided to dress Very Casually like Miss BP had at the “work meeting.”

You closed your laptop and went to your closet. You stood in front of it for a moment before going to your dresser. Here, you pulled out a bandeau top and a loose fitting tank top to go over it. It revealed just enough to be Exciting. Then you added a nice pair of fitted jeans and some casual sandals. Okay, you thought. This works.

***

-im here. I found parking right in front lol take ur time i have a work email im finishing up

Always working, you thought. But then again, that’s why he drove a Bentley. You were ready, so you wasted no time and went down. You saw his Very Nice, shiny car and sidled up to it, feeling a bit silly. He got out of his car and jogged around it to greet you.


“Hi, baby,” he kissed your cheek as he embraced you. You hugged him back and enjoyed the light smooch. He pulled back, “C’mon, get in; I’m almost done with this dumb email and then we can take off.” Boba opened the passenger side door for you. You got in, smelling the Expensiveness of the car immediately. You looked around as he got back in and picked up his phone.

The interior was immaculate. You looked back to Boba. He was engrossed in his email, furiously typing out a response.

You looked around the car again. That’s when you noticed it. In the backseat, there was a black bag with white lettering. CHANEL. It confronted you. Surprised, you turned around, pretending to not have seen it.


“You saw it, go ahead and look. I’m almost done, I promise. I wanted to get you something nice for this weekend; hope you like it.”

You gulped and grabbed the bag. Pulling the tissue paper out of the way, your eyes got wide as you pulled out the item. It was a classic Chanel bag. Your mouth dropped open.

“Do you like it?” He was still typing.

“Do I like it,” you laughed in disbelief, “of course, it’s gorgeous and… and… you shouldn’t have.”

”I absolutely should have. I also got you something else, but it’s smaller.” He continued to type.

You searched the shopping bag and found a smaller bag at the bottom. This one was white with delicate lettering on it. Van Cleef & Arpels. Holy SHIT, you thought. You tore through the packaging to the box inside. Carefully opening it, you were confronted with a traditional style bracelet. It had green stones inlaid in it. Of course, you thought, smiling. He had a thing for green.

“Wow, I love it… the green stones are so unique,” you slipped it onto your wrist and fastened it. Holding your arm out, you admired it.


“Okay, done!” He put his phone in the center console. “Looks good on you. Okay, let’s get going…” He put the car in drive and you were off.


***

-omg bitch i’m in a bentley.and he got me GIFTS. Like, expensive

You typed hurriedly while you were stopped at a gas station. Boba was inside searching for the type of drink you liked while he grabbed some chips for himself.

-tell me E V E R Y T H I N G

-ok ok so. He got me a chanel bag and van cleef & arpels bracelet. And he drives a bentley

-omfg sned me a pic asap!!!

You snapped a few quick photos of your newly gotten goods and sent them off. You received a flurry of texts in response.

-bitch what!!

-look at all that loot

-daddy likes u

-♥️ the bag obvi

You were laughing as Boba got back in the car. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh,” you tried to compose yourself a bit, “My friend -the one you met at the offsite, Vodka Girl- she likes the bag you got me.”

“Ohh, already gossiping. How am I rating so far?”

”Very good,” you said smugly, leaning over to kiss him. He grabbed your hand and held it as you smooched.

“Good,” he pulled away and you settled back into the passenger seat. Time to drive again. You put your phone aside so you could continue the conversation you and Boba were having.

***

You were gently shaken awake. “Huh, omigosh did I fall asleep?” You slurred. You heard Boba laugh as you came to your senses, “Yeah, just for like the last half hour. You were so peaceful I couldn’t wake you. But, we’re here now.”

You sat up and looked out of the car windshield, curious. You were parked in front of a very charming bed & breakfast. The cute little sign read, “Bodega Bay B&B.” It was carefully hand painted. You smiled, taken by the place immediately.

“Is this quaint or what?” Boba asked, his hand finding your thigh. Turning to him, you smiled, “So cute. I can’t wait to see how it looks on the inside.”

”Well, let’s check in and find out.” He grabbed your small overnight bag from the back seat.

***

“Baby, it’s lovely,” you commented as you twirled around in the middle of your suite. It had its own bathroom and a wonderful view of the ocean, with a little balcony just big enough for two chairs. Boba smiled, “Not as lovely as you.”

You walked over to him and jumped into his arms.

“So, princess… what’re we gonna do now? I have reservations for us for dinner, but that’s 45 minutes from now, and it’s basically across the street.”

“Hmm… whatever will we get up to?” You pulled your tank top off and tossed it aside.

“Hm, nice top…” He kissed your collarbone. Your heart fluttered as he tossed you down on the bed. Crawling in on top of you, he commented, “I have a few ideas what we can do…” He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled the zipper down slowly. “Like… I could fuck you senseless again,” his voice was a rough purr now.

Pulling your jeans off, he rubbed his erection into your panties. “Hmm, can’t wait,” he purred softly. You were becoming desperate for him. Trying to play it down a bit, you coyly pulled your bandeau top off. He watched, eyes hooded with desire.

“Nice show, princess,” Boba growled, pulling his sweatpants down. He quickly pulled your panties to the side. Sliding his fingers into your wet folds, he purred, “You need some attention… well I’m gonna give it to you.” He rubbed into you but didn’t penetrate you. You squirmed, whining softly, wanting more.

“All in due time, princess,” he drawled, taking his time. With his other hand, he pumped himself several times. Slowly, he shifted his weight so he could kiss you. Lining his hips up with yours, he slid his cock up your thigh and in between your legs. He lightly rutted into your wetness while he kissed you hard.

Begging for more, you scratched down his back with both hands. “Keep begging, princess, it suits you.” He fended you off, holding your hands above your head with one hand. The other he used to prop himself up on his elbow, so he could kiss you again. While you two kissed like your lives depended on it, he thrust into you swiftly. Moaning, you bucked your hips involuntarily.

Fucking you slowly, he purred, “Beg some more… tell me how you want it.”

Delirious, you moaned his name instead. He smiled mischievously, “Hmm, yes?” He started to fuck you harder, still holding your arms above your head. You struggled lightly against him for the thrill. He held you in place and fucked you harder, “Where you think you’re going?”

Arching your back, you pleaded, “Hold me down and fuck me until I scream.” Boba growled and flipped you over. Pulling your legs apart, he laid over you and rubbed into you for a moment. His cock kept sliding right around the right spot, driving you crazy. You tried to buck your hips, but he held you in place. Groaning, he used a knee to spread one leg wider. “Now I’m gonna make you scream,” he said darkly. You felt him slide inside slowly. Whining, you reached for his hip with one hand, “Harder.”

Boba grunted and abruptly started fucking you just the way you’d asked. “You like this, princess? You’re so bad,” he pumped into you, “You’re so good at being bad.”

As he fucked you, one of his hands wiggled under your chest to grab you. Squeezing, he moaned, “You feel amazing, spread your legs for me…” You did as he commanded, feeling him fuck you deeper. The rhythmic pace took you over the edge. Squirming under him, you gasped and moaned. “That’s it princess, tell me how good it feels when I make you cum.”

In an unladylike tone, you begged for his cock, harder. “Fuck you’re so bad…” He slammed into you as you came hard, going limp in your extremities as your pussy spasmed on his shaft.

“Fuck, I wish I could cum in you,” He muttered, grabbing you by the throat. He gave a few more savage fucks before pulling out, groaning and shaking. Rolling off, he pulled you against him. You both laid there, feeling a bit dazed. You grabbed his hand and held it. He squeezed your hand twice.

***

“Wake up, princess, if you wanna go to dinner.” Your arm was being gently rubbed. You felt a kiss on your temple. You cracked an eye open.

“How much time we have?” You murmured, wanting five more minutes of glorious sleep.

“Oh, say 10 minutes.”

Your eyes flew open.

“Shit! I gotta shower, and makeup, and my hair, well, that’s a mess —“

He put a finger over your lips.

“Shh. No stressing allowed. It’s super casual. We can also Grubhub something if you don’t wanna get out of bed.”

You considered for a few more seconds, enjoying the feeling of the soft comforter on the bed.

“Let’s go! But I do need to shower - I’ll be real fast!” You sat up slowly.

“We don’t have to go, I’m more interested in just spending time with you doing what you want.”

Smiling softly, you snuggled into him. “I wanna see what you have planned. Lemme hurry.” You pecked a kiss on his lips and leapt up.

Turning on the shower, you called, “Hey, pick out one of the two dresses I brought.”

”Okay, uh, I just… go through your stuff?” He sounded astonished.

”What do you think you’re gonna find in there?” You laughed, jumping under the water. It was hot. Delicious. You quickly sudsed up and rinsed. Stepping out carefully, you grabbed a towel and went into the bedroom. You grinned crookedly. He was holding your underwear in his hands. “Uh, I got distracted. I like these ones, by the way,” he held up the crotchless black undies you’d gotten specifically for this trip.

“Oh those; those are for dinner tonight. Thanks for finding them.” You took them from him and slipped them on. Standing there, you put your hands on your hips. “Well, which dress?”

”You sure.. you uh, need anything else?” He teased as he turned back to your weekend bag. Rifling through it, he found the strappy black dress first. “Oh, definitely this one,” he offered it to you.

You shimmied into it and found the correct pair of shoes. Putting some moisturizer on, you turned to him. “Okay, let’s go.”

”With a minute to spare!” He teased, laughing. He offered his arm. You took it, feeling shy and sexy at the same time.

“One thing, though; how do you think I’m supposed to focus during dinner, knowing you’re wearing those panties?”

***

You couldn’t stop laughing on the short walk back to the B&B. Stoned and very horny, you kept grabbing for his belt while you walked. He good naturedly kept you at bay, but under his breath he was murmuring a string of dirty promises to you.

“Once we get back to our room, I swear I’m gonna — Oh, hi, good evening, yes she’s fine she’s just… tired,“ he interrupted himself to talk to a well meaning couple heading the other way. They nodded and headed off, arm in arm as well.

“Anyway, I’m gonna spoil you with some online shopping and then I’m gonna turn the lights off and make you and the bed shake.”

You murmured in excitement, still going after his pants. He laughed, “Last time we vape at dinner. Next time we sit inside. I shoulda known you’d be so bad, though, what was I thinking.”

“You love it,” you exclaimed, letting him guide you down the driveway to the B&B entrance. “I do,” he said softly, making sure you didn’t walk off the gravel and into the shrubbery.

“Where’d these bushes come from?” You complained.

“Oh, they must’ve just planted them,” he said seriously.

“Stop it! You’re making fun of me,” you giggled as you reached the front of the door. “Okay, shhh, we’re entering a domicile,” you teased. Boba laughed softly, “I’ll do my best.”

He ended up carrying you up the stairs as you couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of them at the moment. Setting you down in front of the door to your suite, he fished for the metal key in his pocket.

“So cool,” you murmured, as he unlocked the door. You breezed inside as he followed.

“Okay, so what was this about shopping?” You asked gleefully.

“Well,” he sat on the little couch and motioned to you to join him, “I wanted to buy you a dress to go with that bag, but I didn’t know what you would like. So let’s pick one out together. Where do you wanna look first?”

***

An hour later you had spent just under $3,000.00 on two dresses and a couple accessories Boba insisted on. As he used Apple Pay to finalize everything, you casually pulled out your phone to text your friend.

-omg girl.. he just dropped $3k on some stuff for me… it was HIS idea btw

She text back after a few seconds.

-omfg!!! 😏 daddy liiiiikes you 💘

-stop calling him that lol

-noooo. Omg. Do you have a bf?

-idk… we havent really talked abt that

You looked over at him shyly. He was sipping a glass of water calmly, waiting for you to finish. You put your phone away.

“So. What was this about turning the lights off…” you asked coyly.

***

-ok. Keep it casual rn… but totally let him spoil u tho

-hey r u still there?

-r u two fing rn?

-lol bet

-kk niiight 😘

You awoke to a string of texts from your bestie. You read them quickly while you were snuggled against a still sleeping Boba. Texting back, you wondered what Boba had in store for today.

-gm babe ☀️so i just had the Night Of My Life last night

-he’s crazy in bed lol

You stopped yourself from oversharing. Putting your phone aside, you rolled over and cuddled into Boba’s sleeping form. He grumbled lightly, but ended up snoring slightly as he settled down again.

Boba’s phone rang. He grumbled, “Who’s there?”

Laughing softly, you whispered, “It’s your phone.”

As it continued ringing loudly, he reached for it, complaining, “Who would call me like this.” He shook his head as he put the phone down, letting it ring. He sighed, “It’s only 7:30 in the morning and people are calling me about work.”

You wondered somewhat irrationally if it was Miss Beauty Pageant as Boba continued, “It’s Melissa… you met her at the offsite.”

Your eyes flew all the way open. Miss BP! Boba continued talking. “She’s super helpful, but I don’t know what’s so important she has to call me this early. Anyway now that we’re both awake, wanna see about breakfast?”

”O-okay,” you were stewing on Miss BP’s phone call.

“Mmm okay, let me get dressed and I’ll go see.” He sat up and stretched, looking good in the morning light. “Okay, I’m going now,” he coached himself into getting out of bed. “Omigosh, this carpet is really nice though,” he commented as he grabbed his pants.

You watched as he closed the door behind himself. Then you rolled over, and, fluffing your pillow, text your friend again.

-miss bp just called him! He didnt answer

She appeared to not be awake yet, as you got no response. You continued texting her anyway.

-what do u think it means?

The door opened and you heard Boba’s warm purr, “Breakfast is gonna be up shortly.” He jumped into bed, “Better get dressed. That sucks for me, but I guess I can always just undress you afterwards.”

You laughed softly as you sat up and stretched slowly. “Pick me out an outfit?” You asked, sleepy.

He got up and went through your bag again. He pulled out a cute little number you’d grabbed as a last minute thought.

“How about this? I like the color.” He offered it to you.

“‘Kay,” you slipped into it and went and laid on the couch. After a minute, there was a knock at the door. Food! You thought. You got up and sat like an adult at the small breakfast table as Boba answered the door.

***

You had ended up sitting outside for dinner again. As you rehashed the day with him, Boba offered you the vape pen again. “I’ll just supervise you this time,” he teased, winking at you.

Flustered by his flirting, you took a hit. Passing it back to him, you answered his question, “Okay, so my favorite part of the day. Gotta be… seeing the schoolhouse from The Birds.”

”Really? Cool. We could watch it tonight when we get back to our room.”

You smiled wickedly. “Sure, ‘watch,’” you intoned. He grinned and shrugged. Just as he was about to say something, his cell rang.

“Oh shit, that’s CEO ring tone… let me see if there’s an emergency.” You nodded and sat back, vaping while he answered his phone.

“Hi. Oh, okay. I will. Okay, bye.” He hung up, saying, “I need to check my work email. I paused notifications for our trip. But we have a potential lead, so I need to respond to some questions really fast.”

You mmhmmed at him and vaped some more while he read the email and started typing. “Hm, I need some research for one question. Hold on, one more thing I just need to call someone to do it for me.”

You laughed, “Must be nice.”

He stuck his tongue out at you as he placed his call. You were busy smiling as he said, “Hi, Melissa.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to casually sip your drink. Why’d he have to call her, of all people? You couldn’t help yourself… you casually eavesdropped as you vaped.

“So, I just forwarded you an email. I need some help with question 3, do you have bandwidth right now? I know it’s the weekend…”

He leaned back in his seat, “Okay, thanks. … Hmmm, no ….. Oh. Cool. Yeah we could meet up. Okay, bye.”

You nervously sipped your drink again.
“What’s wrong?” He sounded concerned. “Sorry I had to work.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I totally get it. That’s why you make the big bucks,” you joked.


He tilted his head, “Then what is it?”

”Oh, nothing,” you lied, hitting the vape pen to stall for time. “I’m just hungry.”

He let it go, but didn’t looked convinced. You handed him the pen, “Here, take this before I vape myself under the table again.”

He laughed, “Kay. But you were so cute.”

Feeling shy, you smiled. Suddenly the waiter was there with your appetizers. You sat back as they were placed in front of you.

Time to Let It Go, you forced yourself to focus on the meal and company at hand. Life was good today.

#boba x reader #boba fett x reader #boba smut #boba fett smut #boba fett x female reader #modern au #long fic #long reads #reader insert #au fic #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fic #boba fett fluff

[betweeninstrumentsandbooks]

i’ve been working on a restaurant for the past two months and it has worked ⭐ miracles ⭐ for my mental health. Im guessing its because its given me the opportunity to actually do stuff and grow my confidence, seeing how I’m able to acomplish various tasks, and get an objective reward: money.

Ive also learnt how the wonderful thing that is to be profesional, and that has been *chefs kiss* for my anxiety/RSD/self-esteem, because if I, p.e, fuck up an order, its literally worhless for me to keep moping over it and just feel bad about it for days. It will just drain my energy and make the rest of the workday worse. Instead, what I am supposed to do is to apologize and keep swimming. Because its not a fault of me as a person, its a skill i’m perfecting. Thats what being profesional means to me. Im not saying I should ignore my feelings, or just “suck it up” because that has never worked, im saying i can now see it in an objective way, something i had never been able to do before because i hadnt had the oportunity. And on the same line, if a coworker does something that would usually trigger my RSD, its not because I am a worthless human being, its because we are working. My bartending teacher told me thats its common in kitchens to ask for stuff and not to say “please” or “thank you”, or to have coworkers tell you to move out of the way in ways that could be rude, but its not to be rude; its never in bad faith; its because you have to be quick (and of course, if you got hurt, you can talk to your coworkers later).

The second thing ive learnt is to fully separate what are my responsabilities and what are not. Because I’m working, im doing a service to both the people who come eat at the restaurant and to my boss. This is not a favor, its 100% transactional. If a client doesnt likes their food, tells me that, and doesnt leave a tip, thats their fucking business. Its not my food, Im following the cookbook my supervisor provided, and this isnt a fancy restaurant in the rich part of the city: ive had clients complain like this was the fucking Ritz; it is not, if you want a better service/food, go to the fancy side of town and pay the corresponding price for it. If my boss tries not to pay me my hours, I am on my full right to demand i get my whole salary and to keep pestering her until the deal is fair. She may heve her own personal issues, but thats not my fucking problem. I do not owe the company nothing. If I do owe anything, its to treat my coworkers with respect, because they are with me every single day, they protect me and i protect them. And in this case, its not even a matter of owing here, its they they are my “siblings in arms” and i want to treat them in the best way possible.

The third thing ive learnt is how to manage my stress in a better way. Lets say i have a table, im making their food, and two more tables come in. I have to take their orders, set their tables, make their food, get whatever im missing from the storage, keep the dishes clean enough so i dont loose time washing them, etc. And that does makes my heart race and the fawn/freeze response start to set in. BUT i know what i have to do and how to to it: i just need a few seconds so the list of things to do gets organized in my brain. Its like in videogames: i visualize as a list of tasks that gets arranged according to time and complexity. What do I need, what am i missing, what can i do while I wait? If the burgers take five minutes to be done, I can set the tables and prepare the rest of what the burgers have while I wait, and after that is done and served so it doesnt get cold, i can throw the dirty dishes in the sink, squirt some dish soap and water on them, and rush to the storage to get what i need, and come back to get the table’s check. So, if i know what to do, how long does it takes, how to optimize everything, i have 0 reasons to get stressed.

The pay may be shit,and my boss is a shady af individual, but im happy i landed this job. Ive gotten the skills i have missed, and i will use them on my next jobs, and most importantly, in my life.

#mental health #work #im not even paid the minimum and im making the labor of like 4 people #but whatever #the restaurant is gonna close soon #:)

[ruelknudson]

Slow start

Day three.

Well, day 2 was kind of a bust, but I had already expected that. While I am writing as a full-time job, there is a bit of flexibility in it. I knew yesterday, and the next few days, will have no progress. Before I put my notice in with my employee, I had 12/19 as well as 12/21-12/22 requested off. I have personal days, just like anyone else.

As far as "the job" is concerned, Monday was very productive. Only a single page written in a 9-hour workday. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? Well, there is a business side to this as well. Reactivating social media accounts and updating my website took up the first two hours. I have about an hour a day allotted to social media. I might take it each day; I may do a couple of hours here and there.

The rest of the day was reviewing the current rewrite. The first draft of this current piece was finished about ten months ago. Since then, I have been treading water on the rewrite. I may get into the nuts and bolts of "my process" in another post. But, for now, consider it loosely defined like this:

Basic Outline.

Vomit out a first draft. Ignore being good, and just get the important parts nailed down. It'll be sloppy, and barely worth calling writing, but it is the foundation.

First rewrite: do the writing. This is the mechanical part of it. Make it good.

Second Rewrite: Self-editing of content. I.e. trim the fat.

Third - Fifth Rewrite(s): Grammar, spelling, structure, themes all get a final review. These are usually very fast. I usually need a few of these. As this blog will attest, my grammar and spelling are terrible.

Send to the editor. Thank God for editors. By the way, they're always right. Ignore them when you absolutely have to. I will limit myself to one "I'm not changing that" per story.

Revise based on editor notes.

Final editor pass. Be prepared to justify the thing you kept which your editor said to change. Smile broadly when the editor doesn't tell you to remove it the second time.

Release.

Number 3 is the longest, and most arduous step for me. However, this is where the book starts to actually resemble something worth reading. I am about 40% of the way through this rewrite, but I had to reread all of the previous work. This reflects how unfocused the process had been while I was working full-time on my previous day job.

This draft is still a mess. Luckily the core themes are properly worked out, and they evolve as I was hoping. My worst fear was repetition. I had to be sure the core ideas weren't creeping back into the piece later on. The themes need to evolve through the story, even a non-fiction story. Somehow, even as disconnected as those rewrites were, the themes are moving forward through the book at a natural progression.

If I stick with this format, I should finish two to three chapters a week. This doesn't look like it will be longer than my previous books. So. it looks like a month before the narrative is finished even with the holidays. Then I do the follow up rewrites. I also have appendices to write, but these are more academic than narrative, so they should go pretty quick and will only have one or two rewrites (if that).

During this process I will journal my thoughts and feelings here. I don't know if anyone will care. That's not the point. I think of it like those behind-the-scenes extras for films. Mostly, they are self-gratifying, but if you are interested in how the sausage is made, then its available.

I also want to use this to document how this process may change from story to story. I am curious how it might look after a few years. Will I have refined my process, or dumped it altogether? I wonder what future me will think of this. I bet future Ruel will take a look, get through the first half, delete it, and hope no one scraped a copy or thinks to look at the way back machine's archives to dredge this up.

One last note. I am rereading "On Writing" by Stephen King. I started in my final week of employment. I highly recommend it for any author, aspiring or not. While it has some advice, it is more of a peek into Stephen King as a writer. I am not a huge fan of King. I like many of his stories, but I don't go running to by a new book of his just because it was released.

However, I always find this book to be reaffirming, and inspiring. I don't agree with everything he says, but that's ok. I think the core value of the book isn't the advice. To me, it feels like he is sharing his experience and passing it along in case what works for him can help other writers. That's not to say one should ignore the advice. Its good advice. But that doesn't mean it works for everyone.

I don't expect the same fame, or any fame. I don't even know if writing will be profitable yet. But there is this sense of kinship when you read this book. I can relate to him, and much of what he says. The first time I read this I found myself nodding at a page like he could see me agreeing with him. It's like a conversation with King. "I totally get where you're coming from, Stephen. Telepathy."

Anyways, it's not a revolutionary book that will suddenly make a writer out of anyone. It's not designed for that. But, if you are a writer, it's a good read, and I recommend it. It's great for slumps. For me, I just needed another writer's voice to tell me I'm not crazy.

Welcome to your first day on the job, Ruel. Did you bring your toolbox?

#writers #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #blog

[manyothermusingsofmine]

October Walls || Drabble

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 1900 A/N: I got frickin' possessed by some writing spirit and wrote this in one go after coming home from work

Summary: You can only outrun, distract from and/or cope with your emotions for so long until your body just needs you to cry it out; that's my experience anyway

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

She should be happy that he was doing so well, right?

Mary lightly bit on the inside of her cheek as she watched Klavier from her desk. He was vividly describing something to Apollo, occasionally laughing when the shorter man sputtered at him in response. They were far enough away that Mary couldn't hear what they were saying, only occasionally picking up something from Apollo.

Yeah, he seemed to be doing perfectly fine. Why did that bother her? And why did it bother her that it bothered her in the first place- Okay, she had to stop herself there before just completely spiraling off.

The thing was... it was October; and a lot had happened in a previous October to the point where Mary really couldn't decide if Klavier's casual, regular behavior was something she should be concerned about or not. Granted, he wasn't like her; her mind consistently brought up things she thought she had long put behind her.

But, was Klavier really so resilient to not be bothered by any of these anniversary dates?

Mary looked to her side, momentarily watching Simon and Nevada chatter about something between them. Oh, be real, what was she even going to ask either of them; "Hey is Klavier acting normal weird to you too?"

She just lightly shook her head, focusing back on her work; or at least trying to. The whole day the feeling kept slightly nagging in the back of her head, until he suddenly appeared in front of her.

"... Yes?"

"Just wanted to let you know I'm done for today," he said with a big smile plastered on his face.

"Lucky you; I still have a couple more hours to go."

"Ach, poor you. I'm going to my place, I have some things to take care of. Will I see you there when you're done?"

"Yeah, alright."

"It's a deal. See you soon~"

He took one of her hands into his, pressing a kiss to the back of it; and with that he casually walked out of the entrance to the district court. Mary just watched him, the soft smile on her face slowly fading as a small sigh left her.

Oh, come on, she mentally huffed at herself. If Klavier was fine, then who was she to tell that he wasn't or that he had to be miserable because of what happened? She had already seen him miserable because of what happened, could she just let it the hell go?

She just turned back to her work as she mentally scolded herself.

"I'm home!"

The last few hours of her workday had gone a lot faster than she had imagined; despite that she was still glad to be at his place. She untied the half updo she always sported at work, letting her hair fall loose and putting her coat in its designated spot- and it was then she realised she hadn't gotten a reply.

He wasn't in the living room, which she could easily see into from the hallway.

"Klavier?"

No response, still. And if he had decided to pop out for whatever reason, he would've send her a message, and taken his wallet and keys with him but those were neatly placed in the first drawer of the dresser in the hallway.

So then, he was probably in his recording studio working on something, maybe with headphones on. For whatever reason, Mary felt the need to check on that after having popped her shoes off and putting them on the shoe rack.

As soon as she made it to his recording studio, she paused for a moment. Since they were dating and she occasionally dropped by, Klavier had installed a sign that he flicked on while he was working in there; but it wasn't on right now. And if there was one thing he was absolutely diligent about, it was turning that light on. Because she had asked him to, not wanting to interrupt him if he was recording music and vocals to the point where he would have to do everything all over again.

Mary slowly pushed the door open, looking around the place; and then she saw him.

Relief mixed with a sense of heartbreak as she saw him, sitting on the ground with his back against one of the foam walls. One of his legs was pulled up, one of his wrists resting up on his knee, while he was fidgeting with a guitar pick in his other hand. But it was his gaze that actually tipped her off.

He hadn't even looked up when she had come in, eyes seemingly focused on a spot on the other side of the room where the wall met the floor.

".... Klavier?" she asked, her voice soft in tone as she made her way further in, closing the door behind her. He still didn't react.

Mary hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do as he seemed to have completely turned inward. She slowly approached him, crouching down in front of him; and not liking it one bit that he seemed to be looking straight through her.

".... Darling?"

He jumped a little, blue eyes meeting her green ones when he suddenly snapped out of the depths of his mind.

"Oh- hey," he finally answered softly, while Mary shifted from crouching to just sitting down and stretching her legs out, her feet ending up ever so lightly against the foam block wall he was leaning again.

"Are you okay?"

Klavier didn't respond again, her sitting down being just enough time for his mind to pull him back into the rising tide again.

"Klav?"

His eyes widened for a split second when he felt her hand suddenly on his lower arm, dropping the guitar pick that he held in his left hand and instinctively picking it up from besides him only to continue the fidgeting he had been up to.

"Huh, what?"

"Are you okay?"

He looked at her for a moment, before resting the back of his head against the wall behind him as a sigh escaped him.

"..... I'm fine."

"..... You don't look fine," Mary protested quietly, "You did the whole day, but you definitely don't now. What's wrong?"

He shrugged.

"Nothing. ..... Everything? ....... I don't even know. I'll be..."

He turned his gaze away from her, towards the wall on his left side. It made Mary's heart sink, and break further. How was she going to help him if he wasn't even going to look at her?

".... Is it because of what happened last-"

"Don't. Don't bring it up. I'll be fine."

"Babe-"

"If I just don't think about it I'll be fine-"

"Klav. Stop."

Mary sighed, moving to place her hand on his left cheek and gently turning his head to her, making him look at her.

"Listen to me," she pleaded softly, "just not thinking about it is not going to help you. Take it from someone who has often drowned in her own thoughts that way; it's not going to help. Talk to me. Please."

He looked at her for a moment longer, before his gaze turned down to the floor as he was desperately trying to keep his composure.

"I.." he started on a shaky breath, immediately hating how that betrayed everything he was trying to keep to himself

"I don't want you think I'm weak..."

".... Oh, darling," she said, her heart breaking once again that he would even think that. Mary shifted her weight more forward, placing her other hand on his other cheek in the hopes the physical touch would calm him down somewhat.

"Klavier, sweetheart; you are so incredibly strong, and brave. With how often I second guess and doubt myself, I've always envied this innate ability you have to just.. shake things off, shelf them for later; compartmentalize- But at some point that's going to catch up with you. And... you don't have to do it with me. I promise you I won't judge, or laugh, or mock you for feeling anything you feel."

He finally turned his gaze back to her, as hers softened in response.

"Klavier... You're always there for me. Whenever I run scared, or whenever my mind is attacking itself; You're there to reassure me. The least I want to do for you is return the favor."

Klavier sighed, lightly pulling his head free from her hands and pressing the back of it to the wall, turning his gaze up to the ceiling as he was desperately trying to keep the glistening tears from breaching their confinement.

"I don't understand," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion, "I was fine. The whole day I was fine; I was busy, I've talked so much, laughed so much, with all the noise and buzzing around the district court everything seemed to be absolutely fine. But, now that I'm alone..."

The guitar pick dropped out of his hand once more. He held both of his hands in front of himself, unable to stop them from shaking no matter how hard he tried to keep them still. And now that his eyes were turned downward, a singular tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.

He only looked back up to her when she gently placed her hands over his.

"You're not alone. I'm right here."

His breathing got more heavy, as he still desperately tried to keep himself together. The trembling went from his hands to the rest of his body; and at that point he simply gave up.

Klavier leaned forward, pressing his face in the top of her right shoulder to try and hide the fact that the tears had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Mary wrapped her right arm around his torso, while she placed her left hand on the back of his head and softly smoothed down his hair in a comforting manner.

"I've got you," she whispered to him as he wrapped his arms around her, clinging onto her for as much as he could, "I've got you, sweetheart. It's okay."

"Please don't leave me," he whimpered into her shoulder, and she instinctively and protectively tightened her grip on him.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise," she assured, letting him cry it out on her shoulder.

They sat there like that for quite a while, until most of the turmoil in Klavier had calmed down enough that they could get up and turn to the bed instead; a place a lot more comfortable than the ground of the recording studio.

Klavier rested on top of Mary, his head in the curve where the base of her neck connected to her collarbone. She easily wrapped her arms back around him, gently pulling her fingers through the long strands of his blonde hair.

"I've got you," she whispered in a reassuring tone as she heard him sniffle a little bit.

".... I'm sorry," he responded softly.

"Don't be. I'm here for you."

"... Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too."

She kept running her fingers through his hair, her free hand softly going in circles over his shoulders; all in the hopes that the physical comfort would ease his mind.

... Speaking of which, if he would ever ask; she would tell him that his physical weight on her in such a matter helped ease her mind on that day as well.

#Drifting writes things

[eirian-houpe]

TMI Tuesday

It’s Tuesday again, and this time it’s the first mandatory teacher workday of the 2022/23 school year. I will be in stupid meetings all day long.  Am I complaining?  A little bit.  

It’s always a bit of an upheaval, going back to school after the summer. You’re just getting used to the summer routine and then *bam* it all changes back again to getting up at obscene o’clock in the morning just to be able to be ready on time. Is that a sign of getting old? What on Earth happened to just rolling out of bed and off to work/school?  LOL

Posted this week:

This week I posted:

Chapter 6 of Not Yours To Keep

While grieving the loss of the fourteenth Cleon, the younger brother he loved as a son, Day seeks distraction in the company of a new concubine from the Gossamer Court. No one could have predicted the events that follow - nor the way in which Cleon XIII decides to deal with the situation.

On the cards for this week:.

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 47

Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go. Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into ‘protective custody,’ but is he all that he seems? As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

Not Yours To Keep - Chapter 7

While grieving the loss of the fourteenth Cleon, the younger brother he loved as a son, Day seeks distraction in the company of a new concubine from the Gossamer Court. No one could have predicted the events that follow - nor the way in which Cleon XIII decides to deal with the situation.

Next up:

What the Actual Fuck! - Chapter 8

Prime Minister Robert Sutherland is feeling pressured, and isn’t prepared to acquiesce to the repeated challenges from within his cabinet nor the wider circle of those around him. He resorts to drastic measures to ascertain who can be trusted, turning to an ‘old friend’ to help him separate the wheat from the chaff. Said friend promises to send in his best operative to assist the PM, the trouble is the operative finds out more than Robert necessarily wants to know, and all this just as all hell is breaking loose around him; people hurt, Britain in chaos and multiple deaths push him into making some hard hitting decisions in order to safeguard himself, the country, and the people he cares about.

Ask suggestions

Ask something about any of my fics (full list is below the cut). If you want specifics from some fics that are already outlined, you can ask about:

Disparate Pathways, Chapters 45 through 56 All Our Past Mistakes, Chapters 11 through 44 Lover’s Leap Series, Stories 15 through 31 Time’s Curse, Chapters 4 through 10 Laer o Faen, Chapter 27 Stargate: Atlantis, Harms Way or any of the 20 fics in the series.

Ask something of any of my characters in general or you can get really specific if you like - for example you might want to ask Gold from Pawn Shop a question about a chapter, a thought, a feeling… (the world is your oyster really)

Ask about my process as a writer, what makes me tick,, or even ask about me personally. There’s also This Guessing Game that is still available for you to play.

Also, if you want to see a specific character or fic featured in Three Things Thursday, or Saturday Secret, feel free to send in prompts, if no one does, then either the choice will be random or they just won’t happen at all. I made an analogy for why that might be in a different post about a car stuck in the mud with spinning wheels.

Please remember: if you read a fic you enjoyed on AO3 or on Tumblr (not just mine), please take the time to comment and/or leave kudos, and to reach out on TMI Tuesday. It means a lot to the writers and artists.

You can find all my fics currently on AO3 here, and there is a full list under this cut.

Storybrooke’s Best Kept Secret - Rumbelle

Darkness In Hyperion Heights - Woven Beauty au

Seven Tastes - Rumbelle

Tuesday - Rushbelle AU

The Language of Flowers Series - Rumbelle

Disparate Pathways - Rumbelle AU

Scattered - Rumbelle AU

All Our Past Mistakes - Rumbelle AU

What the Actual Fuck! - Sutherelle

Breathe - Rushbelle

The Lover’s Leap Series - Rumbelle

Awakening - Rumbelle

War Is Coming To Storybrooke - Rumbelle

Given No Choice - Rush

Thoughts On A Happy Ending Series - Rumbelle

Darker Hearts Series - Wish!Rumbelle

Modern Wonders - a OUAT/Alice crossover

Time’s Curse - Rumbelle

The Pawn Shop On Main Street - Rumbelle

The Mansion On the Edge of Town - Rumbelle with a side of Jefferson

Cobra: In Your Prayers - Cobra/FatWS/UC:Undercover et al

To See Series - Rumbelle

Nobody Knew (Bingo) - Rumbelle

Secret of the Seas - Rumbelle AU

Butterfly and Phoenix - ST:DSC

Laer o Faen - Tolkien

Ship’s Rats - ST: DCS

I Amar Boe Men Heb - Tolkien

Coming Down - Halt and Catch Fire

Armor of Ice - Halt and Catch Fire

Duath i-Achas Eriol - Tolkien

Balance of Terror - Sleeper Cell

What To Believe - UC: Undercover

If: In The End - UC Undercover

Precious - The Mummy Series

Forbidden - The Mummy Series

Power Is - The Mummy Series

Angel of the Heart - The Mummy Series

Star of the Morning - The Mummy Series

Not Yours To Remember - Foundation (TV)

Here are fics that haven’t yet been started, but are in the Muse’s bucket.

The Miner’s Day Festival - Rumbelle

Aftermath - Rumbelle (with a side of madness)

Saving The Dark One (WT) A twist on a twist of Rumplestiltskin.

Brought To You By The Color… (Red)

Calcul(us)

(In)consistent equation

The Boston Storybrooke Line

Breaking the Waves (Movie AU)

ILP (or IEP) for Rumple.

One Last Wish

In Service to My Son

Playground Games

Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed

“Only Remembered For What We Have Done.”

Librarian: UC

#TMI Tuesday #asks #send asks #send me asks #ask me anything #ama #Foundation (TV) #rumbelle #sutherelle #Tolkien #stargate: atlantis #feel free to prompt me