#thanks for reading if you made it this far

[highvern]

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter. 

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement. 

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding. 

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy— 

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back. 

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor. 

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop. 

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as  “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place. 

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough. 

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now. 

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation. 

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette. 

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it. 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” 

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth.  “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

��What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.” 

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs. 

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means. 

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music. 

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach. 

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name. 

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection. 

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct.  “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence. 

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?” 

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance. 

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down. 

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin. 

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf. 

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his. 

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs. 

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation. 

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along. 

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.” 

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books. 

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months. 

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs. 

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers. 

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch. 

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’ 

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours. 

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again. 

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth. 

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull. 

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive. 

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder. 

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider. 

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted? 

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been. 

“They were out.” 

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing. 

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines. 

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.” 

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?” 

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. 

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen. 

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning. 

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom. 

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?” 

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.” 

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back. 

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt. 

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg. 

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely. 

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head. 

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy. 

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth. 

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry. 

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down. 

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens. 

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load. 

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side. 

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth. 

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter. 

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school. 

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed. 

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument. 

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now. 

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #🫡 highvern

[vivwritesfics]

"I Don't Know Anything About Dinosaurs"

Spencer was meant to be at the museum on a blind date, not walking around with a mother and son, listening to him as he spouted off dinosaur facts. But then the kid goes missing and it's Spencer's mission to save him.

Spencer x Single mother! Reader

Spencer Reid hated the thought of a blind date. He didn't know if said blind date being set up by Garcia made things better or worse. At least Garcia was a fellow need. She liked some of the things Spencer was into and hopefully knew people who were also into those things.

Their meeting place being a museum had to be a good sign, he thought as he stared up at the recreation of the Parasaurolophus skeleton. But, so far, there had been no sign of her. He looked around with the knowledge that she'd be wearing a green scarf and carrying a museum tote bag, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, somebody was tugging at his sleeve. Spencer looked down to see a boy with wild, dark curls staring up at him. "Excuse me, Mister," the boy said as he looked up at Spencer. "You're blocking the sign." Spencer looked to his left and saw that he really was blocking the sign.

Not that this little boy would be able to read it from his height. "I'm sorry," Spencer said gently as he stepped to one side.

He couldn't help but watch as this little boy walked over to the sign full of dinosaur facts. Just as Spencer had thought, he'd been too short to read it, but he stood on his tiptoes and really tried.

When the boy gave up, he turned to Spencer. "Hey Mister," he said and put his hands on his hips. "Wanna help a fella out?"

Spencer couldn't help but wonder where this kid had learnt this phrase. He looked around before he crouched down, matching the kids height. "Is your mom anywhere around here?" Spencer asked. The kid shrugged her shoulders and, suddenly, Spencer was trying not to panic. "Do you want help finding her?"

Again, the boy shrugged. "She knows where to find me," he said and turned his attention back to the dinosaur.

Spencer stayed by the kid. He looked around, searching for any sign of his mother. But nobody around him seemed like they were panicked or looking for him.

Suddenly, shouts filled the room. "Jimmy!" Somebody shouted. Spencer looked around until he saw a young woman running towards him and the kid. "Jimmy!" When she got close enough, she grabbed the boy and pulled him into her embrace.

But then she stood up straight and looked at him, her expression stern. "James L/N, you know better than to run off like that!"

Jimmy pouted as he looked at his mother. "I'm sorry, momma," he said. "I just wanted to see the dinosaurs."

Her face dropped and she ruffled his dark curls. "It's okay, baby. We can look at them together," she said softly.

Jimmy took his mothers hand, but he turned towards Spencer. Spencer, who knew everything, but didn't know why he was still standing there, watching them. "This fella was gonna help me read the sign," he said.

His mother suddenly turned to Spencer. She tightened her grip on her sons hand and placed her other on her hip as she stared at him.

Spencer jumped into action. "He, uh, he said his mother knew where to find him. I didn't want to leave him here until someone came to claim him," he explained.

She dropped the hand from her hip. "Well, thank you," she said and lifted her son up. She placed him on her hip so that he could read the sign and turned her attention to Spencer. "Do you like Hadrosaurs?" She asked as she nodded her head to the not entirely real skeleton. (Well, maybe a few bones were real, but not the whole thing.)

Spencer shook his head. "No. I'm more of a science museum guy," he answered. He didn't add that he rarely got time to visit a museum with his job.

"Well, if you wanna know anything about any of the dinosaurs, I'm sure Jimmy would be happy to answer you," she said in reply. Her smile was polite, sweet, one Spencer found he really liked looking at.

Spencer took one last look around the museum, one last look for the blind date that Garcia had set up for him. He'd mentally prepared himself for a date, mentally prepared himself to be confident and out going. He wasn't about to let that go to waste.

"I don't know anything about dinosaurs." A lie. "Do you mind if I joined you?"

That was how Spencer spent his day. If his date eventually showed up to the museum, he didn't much care. He was much happier listening to Jimmy talk about dinosaurs. For the first time in his life, Spencer bit his tongue. Jimmy rarely got any of his facts wrong, and Spencer didn't add to his knowledge base, not when he'd said he didn't know anything about dinosaurs.

Once they got back to the museum entrance, Jimmy dragged his mother to the gift shop, and Spencer was only happy to follow. When Jimmy found two soft toys that he wanted (an Ankylosaurus and a Pachycephalosaurus), Spencer helped him to decide which one he wanted.

Jimmy told Spencer everything he knew about the Ankylosaurus as they walked out of the museum. But, once they were on the steps, his mother squeezed his hand. "We've gotta go, Jim," she said softly to him.

Jimmy pouted, but then he turned to Spencer. "It was nice to meet you, Spencer," he said. "You're a nice fella."

Spencer couldn't help but grin. "Thanks for teaching me all about Dinosaurs, Jimmy," he said as he crouched down to his height. "Take good care of, Anky."

He stood up straight and looked at Jimmy's mother. "He's right," she said. "It really was nice to meet you. Thanks for being so nice to him. I don't know many other people who would walk around and let a six year old talk at them for hours."

Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. "No, I learnt a lot," he replied. Neither of them had spoken about Jimmy having a father, or his mother having a partner. There had been no ring on her finger, and the profiler could pick up no indications that she had a partner.

So, Spencer took a leap of faith. "Maybe we could do this again sometime."

Her grin only grew. "I'm sure Jimmy will find some more facts for you," she said, her hand on his sons head. But then she went fishing through her bag and pulled out her phone. "Give me your number," she said and handed him her phone.

Spencer put his number into the phone and passed it back. She typed out a text and quickly sent it to him. "Until next time, Doctor Reid," she said and walked Jimmy down the museum steps, leading him to her car.

Spencer couldn't help but watch them go.

***

The case must have been local. JJ had told them not to back an overnight bag and they all rushed to the BAU as quickly as they could.

It had only been a few days since Spencer had met Jimmy and his mother. They'd texted here and there, but they were both pretty busy with their jobs. Still, he couldn't help but think of them as the elevator took him up. After this case was done, he'd make arrangements to see them again. To find out what new dinosaur facts Jimmy had for him.

He and the rest of the team sat around the round table. Within seconds JJ was walking into the room and turning on the monitor. "James L/N has been reported missing by his mother," she said as the rest of the team passed around folders.

Spencer felt his heart stop. James. Jimmy. Reported missing by his mother. Jimmy, the sweet boy who knew so much about dinosaurs, had been reported missing. He suddenly couldn't breathe.

"His mother said she put him to bed and went to clean up the kitchen. When she checked on him before taking herself to bed, he was gone," JJ continued.

"Jimmy." Spencer couldn't stop himself from saying it.

All eyes were suddenly on him. JJ took a step towards him. "What is it, Spence?" She asked softly. She always was soft with him, almost treating him like he was a child. It wasn't what he needed right now, but he was grateful.

"I-I know this boy," he said as he flipped through the folder that was passed to him. "He, uh, his mom calls him Jimmy, not James."

"You know his mother?" Hotch asked him.

Spencer nodded. "They were at the museum last weekend. I walked around the exhibits with them," he said.

Hotch sent them on their way. He, Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia began looking through all the information they could find on James L/N and his mother, while JJ, Reid and Morgan went to James's house.

Before this, Spencer had been wondering if he could count their time at the museum as a date. It hadn't been, really. But he wanted to take her on one, or at least get to know her better.

He couldn't believe his first time inside of her house was going to be because of a case. Spencer couldn't help but feel a little sick as he, JJ and Morgan walked up the steps to the house. There was an array of flowers in the garden. Some in pots lining the steps, some on the windows, some hanging beside the door.

Spencer raised his fist. The stained glass window panes painted a scene. Water, a clock tower, a bird flying above the ocean. Spencer sucked in a breath and knocked between the window panes.

The door was open within seconds. Jimmy's mother stared at the three ages. Morgan said her name. "We're with the-"

But, before he could finish he sentence, she threw herself at Spencer, wrapping her arms around him. Spencer stood there for a moment, unable to move. But then he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. "He's gone," she cried against Spencer's chest.

"I know," Spencer whispered, his large hand against her back. "But we're gonna find him."

JJ and Morgan hung back as they watched the interaction. It felt intimate, something they couldn't interrupt. But she let go of Spencer and stepped to the side, letting all three agents into her house.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she shut the door behind them. "I... I didn't touch anything in his room," she said as she led them upstairs. At the very first room she pushed open the door.

Morgan and JJ pulled on gloves as they stepped into the room. But it was perfectly clean. The bed was made, the room had been cleaned up, but there was no sign of a break in. "Reid, take her downstairs," Morgan said as he and JJ began combing through the room.

Spencer did just that. He took her downstairs and sat her on the sofa, sitting himself beside her. She drew in a shaky breath. "He has Anky," she said quietly and wiped at her eyes. "If I had known you were FBI I would have called you before I called the police."

He swallowed. "I'm here now," he said, meeting her teary gaze. "And I need you to tell me everything that happened, starting with when you put Jimmy to bed."

She ran Spencer through her entire evening. Starting with dinner, and then bath time, story time and bed. She told him how she cleaned the kitchen after dinner and took some time, only ten minutes to read. By the time she went up to check on him, by the time she was ready to go to sleep herself, Jimmy was gone.

When she started crying Spencer rubbed her back. There was little else he could do to offer contact as he asked as she had noticed anything or anybody strange recently. He'd already worked out that the unsub must have known her usual schedule to be able to take Jimmy and then clean his room.

Before Spencer could piece together any information from her answers, the phone began ringing. She drew in a sharp gasp as she turned her head towards it.

When she looked at Spencer again, he nodded and she picked up the phone. "H-hello?" She said, voice shaking as she put the phone on speaker.

"Hi mommy!"

Immediately, tears sprang to her eyes. "Jimmy?" She cried. "Is that you, baby?"

"Yeah, mommy," he said. He sounded fine and she had to take comfort in that.

Her hand fell onto Spencer's and she squeezed. Squeezed him to the point of pain. But Spencer didn't say anything. He squeezed her back, trying to be encouraging. "Jimmy, baby, can you tell me where you are? I-It's almost time for lunch and I need to come get you."

"I'm with a friend, mommy," Jimmy answered. "Her name is mommy, too. She said she's gonna make me lunch."

Suddenly, Spencer's brows furrowed. She. The unsub was a woman.

"Mommy, she wants to speak to you," Jimmy said. Spencer watched as her eyes went wide and she began rapidly shaking her head.

But Spencer squeezed her hand and nodded his head. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Okay, Jimmy, But, can you tell me where you are first, baby?"

Jimmy didn't answer her.

There was an indistinguishable noise from the other end and then, "Leave my son and I alone!"

It was a woman's voice, an obviously upset woman's voice. As the rest of the team came down the stairs Spencer pressed his fingers to his lips.

"Please," she said desperately as she looked at Spencer. "Please, just bring Jimmy home. He's all I got."

"His name isn't Jimmy!" The other woman suddenly cried. "He's my son and his name is Robert!" She ended the call after that, cutting off the contact.

Her hands shook as she put the phone down.

"His name is Robert," Spencer repeated. He said it to himself a few times as the rest of the team crowded around her to ask her more questions. Desperately, she looked at Spencer, but he pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear.

***

Spencer didn't sleep much on this case. He couldn't, not until he knew that Jimmy was safe at home with his mother.

He had Garcia look into mothers who had lost their children. More specifically, mothers that had lost children called Robert.

The whole team tried several different angles for the case. While Morgan and JJ interviewed mothers that had lost children, Spencer and Garcia desperately searched through records of institutions.

Their lucky break was when the unsub called once again. Spencer had been there, thank god. All she had to do was call and he was running.

Garcia had set things up to trace the call. When the phone began ringing, she held her hand against her chest. "It's okay," Spencer assured her.

He picked up the phone and placed it in her hands. "Hi Mommy!"

"Jimmy!" She sat up straighter. "Jimmy, baby, are you okay?" She asked desperately.

There was a beat of silence, one that had her heartbeat erratic. "I'm okay, Mommy. I've lost Anky, though."

She swallowed. "Well, when you're home, we can go to the museum again and get you another."

"Can Spencer come with us?"

Spencer nodded at her. Of course they could go back to the museum. The moment they got Jimmy home, Spencer would take the both of them.

"Yeah, Jimmy. We can take Spencer."

Suddenly the call was ended. "Jimmy?!" She cried, desperately. But he was gone.

"Garcia, have you got it?" Spencer called down his phone as he stood.

Garcia listed off the address. Immediately Spencer was using his long legs to stride to her front door. "Wait!" She cried, rushing after him. Spencer turned, his eyes soft as he looked at her. "Bring him home."

Hotch didn't want Spencer going with them. He was too close to the case, and they all knew it wouldn't end well. But Jimmy knew him, and he was more likely to actually go with Spencer.

The team entered the house, guns drawn. With noises from the living room and the upstairs, the team split up.

Spencer and JJ headed into the living room. Cartoons played on the television, and Spencer had to hope it was Jimmy.

And Jimmy it was. "Hi Spencer!" He called the moment the FBI agent came into view.

Immediately Spencer felt his heart stop. He put his gun away and crouched down in front of Jimmy. "Hey, Buddy," he said as Jimmy hugged him. "We're gonna get you home to your mom, okay?"

"Okay," Jimmy said as Spencer picked him up.

The rest of the team arrested the unsub, a woman who had lost her child years ago. She fought to get to Jimmy when she was walked towards the police car, cuffs around her wrists.

***

Spencer held Jimmy's hand in the police station. Jimmy told Spencer more dinosaur facts. "I wanna go back to the museum," he said. "And I want you to come."

"Your mom is gonna be happy to take you," Jimmy," he said and handed him a pen. Jimmy began drawing as he waited for his mom to show up.

When she did, she ran through the police station. She ran straight over to her son and pressed kisses all over his face. She pulled away to look at him, to check him over. "Oh baby," she said and hugged him tight. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, Momma," he said and showed her his dinosaur drawings. "Can we go to the museum with Spencer, momma?"

With Spencer standing behind Jimmy, he wore a matching pout. "Can I?" He asked.

"Please Momma!"

How could she say no?

(It wasn't meant to be a first date, but the treated it as such)

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut

[sluttywoozi]

April Shower | jww x f!reader

Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~12.0k Pairing: jww x f!reader | Genre: romance, meet cute, smut, love at first sight

Story Warnings: alcohol and food mention

Smut Warnings: masturbation mention, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, bigdick!wonwoo, wonwoo’s cold hands, size kink, light thigh slapping, fingering, oral reader rec., overstimulation, slight dumbification, squirting, sexual health/safety talk, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cumming on tits

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, like half a foot shorter than wonwoo, wap, has a cycle to track

AN: written for my bestie @sluttywonwoo’s birthday! kaili, the light you bring to my life is immeasurable and i’m so lucky i’ve gotten to grow with you over the past 7 years 💖

Wonwoo draws in a deep, tremulous breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, wishing not for the first time that he was anywhere but the city of love. 

This is the second proposal he’s photographed today, the fifth this week, and while he’s always thought himself to be someone who doesn’t mind love, he’s starting to grow a bit… weary. 

His hotel room is obviously meant for two, as were many of the pastas and desserts he’s ordered so far. Everywhere he looks, there are people kissing or hugging or holding hands, their ages ranging from teens in puppy love to folks in their golden years shuffling down the street arm in arm, supporting each other as they have for decades. 

He’s been working as a travel writer for five years, been single just as long, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself feeling lonely. He’s usually restless, never wanting to settle in one place, and he’s almost always solo, reluctant to give himself to someone who might want to keep him. 

Lately, he’s felt a bit differently. Perhaps he’s getting old, outgrowing his bachelor lifestyle. He finds himself wanting to plant roots where before he was nearly offended by the notion of digging any deeper than surface level. 

There’s just something about Verona that begs to be shared, to be experienced with someone else. Maybe it’s the romantic music flowing from the restaurants he passes, maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be the sole single person in this city. Regardless of the cause, he actually feels alone, for the first time in years. 

It’s not a feeling he enjoys, or one he’s familiar with, and as he traverses the cobblestone streets, he almost wishes he was holding someone’s hand instead of the camera he’s carried for most of his life. 

Wonwoo swears out loud when he feels the first drop of rain. He checked the forecast twice this morning, knowing he would be exploring an area a few miles from his hotel and that he wouldn’t be able to return to grab or drop anything off. 

With the weather appearing to be clear and sunny all day, he left his umbrella in his room and headed out to catch his taxi. 

He more than regrets that now, the rain starting to pour and his white button down beginning to soak through. He at least brought his water resistant backpack so for now, his camera is safe, but spending the rest of the day in sodden clothes sounds like actual hell. 

He looks up and down the street frantically, finding only personal residences, not a single shop in sight. 

Until he looks closer and realizes the building at the end of the row has a sign. He can’t read it from this far away, even with his glasses, but the hope is enough to propel him forward. 

He darts down the street, splashing through puddles and swearing again as he feels water permeate his socks. The store comes into view, the sign becoming clearer and clearer the closer he gets. 

Storie d’Amore, it reads. Love stories, of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the city of love. 

“It’s open, thank fuck,” Wonwoo murmurs as he wrenches the door open and steps inside, his clothes dripping all over the hardwood floors. 

He feels terrible tracking rainwater into this store, but he had no other choice. His water resistant bag is only resistant for so long, and his camera is far too valuable to risk. 

He glances around the small room, looking for the owner so he can apologize and instead finding shelves upon shelves of books. He walks slowly, squelches following each step, and reads over the spines. 

He’s shocked to find novels in all kinds of languages, some he recognizes and speaks and some he doesn’t. He’s relatively fluent in five thanks to his years of language classes and traveling, and he has to resist picking up a book in each of the ones he knows. 

He reaches the end of the first shelf, gasping at the large paned window he finds and gasping even louder at the black, tailless cat lounging on the ledge. 

The cat pays him little to no mind, lazily peering at him over their shoulder before curling into a small ball. They blink their big peridot eyes a few times and let out a heavy sigh, settling into sleep faster than Wonwoo could ever hope to. 

Enchanted, he swings his bag around to his front, digging through and pulling out his camera as quietly as possible. 

Even with the mid-April shower, the light coming in through the window illuminates the subtle white notes in the cat’s fur, giving them a glow he begs his camera to capture. 

He crouches until he’s eye level with the cat, holding his breath as he brings the viewfinder up to his eye and presses down the shutter button. 

The cat doesn’t stir, too deep in slumber to register the quiet click. He takes a few more pictures, trying different angles and light settings until he feels he’s gotten every possible combination. 

Maybe it’s stupid, but Wonwoo is more excited to share these photos than nearly any others he’s ever taken. 

Which is why he balks and falls flat on his ass when he hears, “Anubis is a model, you’ll owe us royalties for those.” 

Eyes wide, he looks around wildly to find the source of the words. There’s no one in sight, the store seemingly empty except for him and Anubis. 

“Up here,” the voice calls out, drawing his eye and making his mouth drop open when he finally notices a spiral staircase leading up to a small loft. 

He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He must have been too busy staring at the cat to really take in the rest of the store, and as you slowly step down, he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed. What he can tell is that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and that he suddenly wants to ask if you believe in love at first sight. 

“I can give you royalties! Please don’t make me delete them,” he pleads, far less embarrassed than he should be by the fact that he’s practically on his knees begging a pretty stranger to let him keep photos he took. 

You reach the landing and make your way toward him, your face unreadable. He’s surprised when you break into a sweet smile and hold your hand out to him. He hugs the camera close to his chest in response, making you roll your eyes and grab his free hand. 

The warmth of your touch is a shock to his system, but he holds back the shiver that wants to roll down his spine as you lean back and tug. Still confused, he lets you help him up, feeling self conscious in his damp clothes. 

He stands a little straighter when he realizes he’s over half a foot taller than you, the height difference giving him back some of his confidence. He’s not sure it should, especially with the unimpressed look you level at him when you set eyes on the trail he tracked through your store. 

“I’m so sorry, I can clean it up if you give me supplies,” he offers, fully serious and almost hoping you’ll say yes just so he can assuage his guilt. 

“These floors have seen worse,” you shrug, leaning down to pet Anubis, and Wonwoo has no idea what that means but he’s not about to ask. He introduces himself instead, shaking the hand still held by yours and repeating your name when you offer it. 

He’s only slightly jealous when you pull away and hook your hands under the cat’s body to draw him into your arms, though whom he’s jealous of, he doesn’t know. 

He would love to be holding the cat, but he has a sneaking suspicion he’d also love to be held by you. 

Your hand was so warm, and so soft, and the rest of you looks just as warm and soft, if not more. 

Anubis snuggles into your arms, his legs stretching and his toes spreading before he tucks them up against your forearm. His eyes go heavy lidded when you start to scratch his head, and now Wonwoo knows who he’s jealous of. 

He hates to admit it but it’s been years since he let someone touch him, and after just a minute or two of knowing you, he’s already hoping you’ll touch him more. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold Anubis so lovingly, so gently, or if it’s because you have this aura about you that soothes him, or if it’s even because he feels this attraction, this draw to you. Maybe it’s all three. 

All he knows is that something about you makes him want to stay until his clothes are dry and the sun is setting, and then stay a little longer after that. Like for months, or even years, perhaps. 

He’s relieved when you ask if he’d like some tea, directing him over to the small fireplace in the back of the store and nodding to one of the chairs. When he sits, you lean down and plop Anubis in his lap, surprise painting your face when he doesn’t immediately jump down. 

“He’s usually wary of new people,” you hum thoughtfully, watching as the cat gets comfortable on his thighs. He brings his hand up and runs it over his soft fur, beaming up at you when he feels Anubis’s little body start vibrating beneath his palm. 

“I love him,” Wonwoo admits, his voice grave and his eyes open and true behind his glasses. 

You just laugh and say, “Me too,” before disappearing behind a door, leaving him alone with your cat. 

Rain is still barraging the building, the steady sound lulling him into a trance as he pets the sweet being in his lap. The fire warms him quickly, making him realize just how cold he was before, a small shiver attempting to wrack his body again. He keeps it contained to his shoulders, wanting to avoid disturbing Anubis if possible. 

He tells himself it’s just because he wants him to stay, but if he’s being honest, he also hopes that if you see that your cat likes him, then you will too. 

Before long, you return with a tray of steaming mugs, one for him and one for you. You set it carefully on the side table between the chairs, telling him, “I would let it steep for two more minutes. There’s also biscotti, and some crostini if you’re allergic to nuts.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” he breathes, his eyes wide. He’s run into some very nice people on his travels, but it’s been a while since he was met with such hospitality. Here he is, sitting in front of a blazing fire with tea and snacks waiting for him, after dirtying your shop and taking unapproved pictures of your model cat. Cat model?

“So, how much do you expect in royalties?” He asks with trepidation, knowing the magazine he works for is pretty big but maybe not big enough to pay residuals for pictures of a cat. 

You stare at him for a few seconds, squinting your eyes and quirking your head before chuckling, “That was a joke. Bubby isn’t a model, I just think he’s handsome enough to be one.”

“Ohhhh.”

Wonwoo feels himself blush, his cheeks and ears flaring red before he forces out a laugh to try to cover his embarrassment. He’s not used to jokes, usually relying on sarcasm, puns, and situational humor, and he’s a bit ashamed he didn’t realize you weren’t being serious. He stares down at Anubis, petting him softly so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. 

“Tea should be ready,” you say brightly, picking up your mug with careful hands and kindly allowing him to recover without your gaze on him.

He follows suit, cupping his hands around the hot mug and bringing it to his lips so he can blow gently, huffing when steam fogs up his glasses. He pushes them up into his hair, thinking absentmindedly that he should get it cut soon as he takes his first sip. 

The flavors bloom on his tongue, mint, orange, cinnamon, honey, and something else he can’t put his finger on. It’s the most comforting tea he’s ever had, and he blinks over at you with misty, blurry eyes, sighing, “What is this? I need to buy four tons of it.”

“It’s called Evening Sorrento, it’s one of my favorites,” you smile indulgently, bringing your mug to your lips and drinking slowly before setting it down and reaching for the biscotti. 

He follows your lead, taking a biscuit and dipping it in his tea like you do. The first bite has him groaning in appreciation, dark chocolate, citrus, and almond blending together flawlessly, the taste only enhanced by the tea. 

“What’s the spiciness from?” He asks curiously, taking another sip to try to figure it out himself. 

“Ginger,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “I candied some and put it in the biscotti, too.”

“You made these?” He sounds astonished, he knows, but he almost can’t wrap his head around someone being able to create something so delicious when all he can do is fry an egg. He still burns it half the time, more scared of undercooking than he is of overcooking.

“Yeah, my best friend taught me how, she loves to bake,” you smile sweetly, seemingly pleased to see him enjoying the food you made. 

Anubis stirs, stretching out on Wonwoo’s lap before leaping onto the floor and up into your chair. You murmur, “Hi, baby,” and Wonwoo can’t help but grin as he watches your cat use your arm to pet himself. 

He asks how long you’ve had him, then for pictures when he learns you rescued him as a kitten, gasping softly at the tiny version of the cat as you swipe through photos. The conversation shifts to Wonwoo’s desire to adopt a cat before he explains why he can’t, and the way you look genuinely sad for him makes his heart swell. 

You ask more about his job, about the places he’s been and the things he’s seen, and in turn, he asks how you acquired all of the books in this store. It turns out you have contacts all over the world, friends who send you romance books when they come across them in exchange for a free one when they next come to visit. It seems like the perfect system, allowing you to collect novels in different languages and share them with the people you love. 

Talking to you is so easy that he doesn’t even notice how late it’s grown until you check your phone, a startled expression on your face as you say, “I should have closed half an hour ago.” 

He glances at his watch, blanching at the clock staring back at him. It’s been four hours since he burst into your shop looking for refuge from the downpour, and he doesn’t even know if it’s still raining. The sun has long since set, going down around six PM this time of year, which was over two and a half hours ago. 

He rises swiftly, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in his slacks and thanking you for your generosity. You stand with him, hugging Anubis to your chest before offering the cat for one last snuggle. Wonwoo takes him carefully, bundling him up against his now dry shirt and smoothing a hand from his head all the way down to the nub at the end of his body. 

He starts purring immediately, the sound audible even over the crackling of the embers, making you smile softly and tell him, “Bubby likes you.”

“I like him,” Wonwoo beams, reluctantly handing the cat over when you stretch your arms out. 

“You love him,” you correct with mirth dancing in your eyes as you walk him to the door.

He peeks out, sighing in relief when he finds that the rain has stopped before turning to you. He almost doesn’t know what to say, goodbye feeling too final, too formal. He thanks you again instead, dragging his feet now that it’s time to leave. 

But he doesn’t want to be rude, or keep you any longer than he already has, so with one last wave and a scritch under Anubis’s chin, he leaves. 

You call out, “Come back soon!” and while he’s sure you say that to all your customers, he can’t help but feel like you mean it. 

Wonwoo has a plan for the day: take the train to Venice, splurge on a gondola ride, and capture as many of the historical buildings as he can while the boat is guided through the canals. 

So why he finds himself standing outside of Storie d’Amore again, he doesn’t know. 

He managed to stay away for two days, hiking all over Verona and taking enough pictures to fill an SD card. He would have made it three if he asked the cab driver to take him to the train station instead of your place of business, but here he is. 

Some part of him wants to rationalize it. He didn’t get any photos of the area because of the rain, just of your (not) model cat, so he’s simply making up for lost time. That still doesn’t explain why he’s staring through the paned glass window at the end of your shop, hoping for a glimpse of you or Anubis. 

Obviously, you’re both here, but he doesn’t see either of you, and he also wants to buy a few books to take home, so it only makes sense that he goes into your store. 

He’s dry this time, thankfully, though he wonders if that means you won’t offer him tea and biscotti again. He can see a few people milling about, pulling books off the shelves to read the summaries and either placing them into mismatched baskets or putting them back. 

He does the same, searching for novels in the languages he knows with the intent of buying one of each. He’s gathered Italian, French, and English when he feels something rub against his leg, looking down to find a black cat staring up at him. 

“Anubis!” Wonwoo grins, leaning down to set the basket to the side so he can pick up his little friend. Holding him to his chest, he feels his heart warm as the purring starts, not even a little mad about the black fur accumulating on his shirt. 

“Oh!” 

He hears you gasp and glances up, smiling shyly at you and shifting to hold Anubis with one arm so he can send you a wave that only feels a little awkward. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” you say, stepping closer to him and taking in the basket at his feet and backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You told me to,” he shrugs sheepishly, suddenly fearing that, “Come back soon,” is something you just say to everyone. 

“I didn’t think you actually would. I thought you’d be gone by now, on to the next destination.” 

He can’t tell if you’re happy to see him or not, but you haven’t kicked him out yet so he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. 

“The next destination can wait. I needed something to read on the plane anyway.” 

“Looks like you found more than just something,” you chuckle, peering closer to check out the titles he’s gathered so far. “All good choices,” you smile up at him, and he feels something unlock in his chest to make space for you. 

“Can I take you out on a date?” He blurts out, his eyes widening and his free hand flying up to cover his mouth. The words escaped without his permission, but he can’t say he wants to take them back. 

You tilt your head and look at him for a little while, like you’re searching for something, and you must find it because your smile grows before you nod and say, “I can close early tonight. Does seven work for you?” 

“It works perfectly,” he breathes after lowering his hand, his heart racing and his body feeling warm for once. 

A customer calls out your name, making you glance over before you turn back and say, “Leave your books at the register and meet me here later?” 

He can only nod, grinning too wide to manage any words. 

“Don’t take my cat, I love that little guy,” you warn him playfully (he thinks) and spin to find the source of the voice. He can hear you speaking in rapid French, easily translating it in his head without even meaning to. They’re asking for your help in choosing between two books, one a tragedy and one a comedy. 

You go over the pros and cons of each genre and offer your own personal opinions on the specific books, making Wonwoo wonder if you’ve read every novel in here. You seemed to recognize the books in his basket and you apparently know the ones this customer is talking about; maybe you read them as you receive them? 

But there are so many, there’s just no way, he thinks, letting Anubis wriggle out of his arms to follow you. He supposes that’s something he can ask you at dinner, the thought bringing a pleased little smile to his face. 

He selects his last two books and wanders over to the checkout counter, stashing his basket on the stool behind it before heading out to get pictures of the neighborhood while he can. 

He’ll be busy tonight, after all.

Wonwoo returns to your shop five minutes before the clock strikes seven. 

He slips in without your notice, making his way to his favorite window and sitting down on the ledge next to Anubis to scroll through the pictures he took while he was out. The cat just sprawls a bit more so his feet are touching Wonwoo’s thigh, the tiny points of connection warming him from the inside out. 

He captured another proposal today, but this one didn’t leave a hollow feeling in his chest like the others. Now that he’s thinking about it, neither did any of the couples he passed. He was able to truly appreciate all of them without that sense of bitter loneliness, and he can only attribute that to meeting you. 

An unbidden smile stretches his lips as he thinks about the time he spent sitting by that fire with you, talking about anything that came to mind. It’s been months since he spent four straight hours with someone, just talking. It’s been years since he wanted to. 

A tiny part of him fears he only feels this way because he’s been so lonely, but the rest of him knows he’d be enamored with you no matter what state he was in. 

This is only confirmed when you round the bookshelf and come to a stop in front of him, an emerald green dress swishing over your thighs and a smile brightening your face. You cleared the store in the time he spent reminiscing, leaving the room empty but for you, Wonwoo, and Anubis.

The air feels tense, heavy with something Wonwoo can’t quite identify. It’s only when he rises to his feet and finds himself closer to you than he meant to be that he realizes that something is potential. 

It’s the same rush of anticipation that fills his chest when he lines up a shot he knows will be incredible, when he finishes climbing a hill and sees the perfect sunset waiting for him, when he finally finds the words to describe the indescribably beautiful. The fact that he’s feeling it now, with you, tells him everything he needs to know. 

His previous fear of meeting someone who would want to keep him has become a dream, a wish that he can only hope will come true, because now Wonwoo knows he wants you to take hold of him and never let go. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so full of longing, it’s almost embarrassing. 

“Before the first date? The scandal!” You say dramatically, feigning offense and lightly tapping him on the chest. He gasps at the contact and covers your hand with his, pressing it flat to his pec so you can feel his speeding heart. 

You must realize how serious he is, how desperate, because the playful smile falls from your face, your gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. He feels himself flush under your attention, his ears and the back of his neck hot as you stare up at him. 

“Yes, Wonwoo. You can kiss me,” you breathe softly, your face tilting up and your eyelashes fluttering as he begins to lean down. This moment feels monumental for some reason, like something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, and as he cups your face and carefully presses his lips to yours, he figures out why. 

Everything about kissing you feels right, as if all of his jagged pieces have fallen into place, as if this is what he was destined for, as if the fates connected him to you with an invisible, unbreakable string. 

He wasn’t restless, he wasn’t a bachelor, he was just waiting for you. 

Suddenly his smile is too broad for him to keep kissing you, giddiness flowing through his veins as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. He leaves his hands on your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone before biting back his grin and kissing you one, two, three more times. 

He feels shy when he takes a step back, letting one hand fall to catch yours and squeezing like it’s a lifeline. 

“Was that… life-changing for you too?” Wonwoo asks quietly, scared to pop the bubble he’s found himself in with you. 

“Maybe,” you whisper, vulnerability evident in your voice though your face gives nothing away. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, yes, we should,” he lets you pull away even though it physically pains him, following when you tug him to the door with the hand he’s still holding. 

He doesn’t know what just happened, why you closed yourself off, but he’ll give you the space you seem to need, sure that if he pushes it will only make you freeze up more. For now, he’ll take you to that romantic riverfront restaurant he passed earlier and encourage you to order any and everything you like. 

You ease up a bit after a glass of wine and some shared appetizers, the smile on your face genuine again though your light still seems dimmer than it was before. You ask him a lot of questions but don’t offer up much information in return, keeping your responses short and to the point. 

It doesn’t disrupt the flow of conversation at all, thankfully; Wonwoo and you are compatible enough that it’s easy to bounce from one topic to another. There’s never a pause, never a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, and even with you being more withdrawn than expected, he still laughs himself to tears more than once. 

It’s late by the time he pays the bill and walks you home, which he’s learned is the building right above your shop. There aren’t many people out, and though he startled you when he took your hand in his, he continues to hold it the whole way back. You’ve gone quiet again, pensive, making him wonder if he’s done something wrong, or, worse, if you regret kissing him. 

You only started acting like this after he pressed his lips to yours, after he asked if it was life-changing for you like it was for him. 

He doesn’t know what else it could be, unless you figured out you just don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you. His heart drops into his stomach at the thought, his fingers subconsciously clenching around yours, making you glance up at him in concern. 

He stares forward resolutely, not ready to see confirmation of his fears in your gaze. 

By the time that big window and Anubis’s sleeping body come into view, Wonwoo has convinced himself that you feel nothing but friendship for him and simply don’t know how to say it. 

Still, he can’t help but try, one last time. 

“Do you think I could see you again before I go? I’ve got plenty of pictures and I fly out tomorrow night, so my day is clear.”

You take a second to think about it, your eyes shuttering as if you don’t want him to see the thoughts behind them, before you answer solemnly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, feeling like all the air has been pulled out of his lungs. “You don’t… think it’s a good idea. Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll just go, then.”

He can’t even make himself look at you, knowing that his mouth is pinched in the way it does when he’s trying not to cry. He squeezes your hand once more before disentangling his fingers from yours, taking a step back, and turning to walk away so you can’t see him lift up his glasses and rub at his burning eyes. 

He doesn’t get far before you call out his name. 

“Wonwoo! I… It’s because you’re leaving,” you sound as close to tears as he feels, your voice plaintive and fragile. 

He stops short and chews on his lip, swiping at his face with rough hands as your footsteps sound on the cobblestones. You let him stay where he is but he feels your fingers clench in the back of his shirt, like you’re afraid he’ll still walk away. 

That touch is enough for him to turn around, his hand catching yours as it falls and his heart stuttering at the sheen of tear tracks on your face. He brings his other hand up to brush his thumb under your eye, sweeping away a freshly fallen drop. 

“Is that why you said maybe, after I kissed you?” He asks in a gentle, low tone, less fearful of the answer now. 

“Yes. This has an expiration date, I don’t get to keep you. I couldn’t admit that just one kiss had me ready to sell my shop, buy a new cat carrier, and join you on the road,” you laugh softly in a self-deprecating way, avoiding his gaze again like you’re embarrassed. 

“Y/n, when I said it was life-changing for me, I meant it. As in, I would change my life for you. I can transfer to the Italian branch, go on shorter assignments, find a place here. You can keep me.”

“Wonwoo, I can’t ask you to do all that for me. I mean, we only met a few days ago, how do you know you won’t regret this?” You sound reluctant to accept his offer, but it seems to be coming from a place of worry for him instead of a lack of feeling, and he can work with that.

“I’ve been thinking about settling down anyway, I just needed a sign. Meeting you was that sign, and getting to know you like this has only made me more and more sure. Please, all you have to do is believe in me.”

Finally, you meet his eyes, searching them like you did when he asked you out, and once again, you find what you’re looking for. A watery smile stretches your lips as you step closer to him and up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug. 

His eyelids flutter shut, his arm vining around your waist and hauling you up against his body so you can feel his galloping heart. He presses his lips to the top of your head and breathes you in, finding your scent absolutely intoxicating. 

It’s fruity like pomegranate but sweet and floral too, reminding him of the lotus flowers he stumbled across in the southern Himalayas. There’s an underlying warmth, a natural musk that makes him wonder if you’re wearing perfume or if you just smell like this on your own. 

He doesn’t really care either way, not now that he has you so close, your joined hands coming up to rest against his shoulder and your body relaxing into his. You stay like that until his heart returns to a somewhat normal pace, before he pulls away just far enough to look down at you. He tugs his hand free so he can cup your face, whispering, “I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?” 

“Please do,” you whisper back, taking in a shuddering breath just before he locks his lips with yours. You sigh it out into his mouth and he swallows it like it’s a benediction, your tongue dragging against his as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. 

He’s about to let out a groan when a wooden shutter bangs against the stone building above, a loud voice shouting, “Prendi una stanza!”

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” You break away to shout back, grinning at Wonwoo’s flaming cheeks. 

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” The shutter snaps closed again and Wonwoo bends over in a full body laugh, clutching his stomach as his abs flex with mirth. You’re not laughing like he is, but you are watching with affection and only the slightest bit of embarrassment. 

When he’s finally regained his composure, he straightens and wipes at his cheeks again, crying for a completely different reason than before. You smile up at him fondly, reaching out to fix his hair and asking, “Since you’re free tomorrow, do you want to come up for some coffee?”

Wonwoo doesn’t know if you’re really offering refreshments or if the coffee is a euphemism for something else, but either way, it’s an easy answer. 

“Of course I do.”

Anubis starts meowing as soon as you unlock the door to your shop, loping over on graceful paws and weaving between your feet. 

“You had your dinner, why are you shouting at me?” You ask as you crouch to pick him up, holding him like a baby and scratching at his stomach gently. 

“Maybe he missed you?”

You mull it over for a little bit, nodding your head in acceptance and admitting, “I don’t usually go out at night, so maybe he did.”

“Is that why your neighbor was fine with us making out as soon as he figured out it was you?” 

You lightly jab him in the stomach with your elbow and he pretends to be mortally wounded, stumbling and groaning dramatically as if he’d been hit with an arrow instead. 

He supposes he has been, but it was one of Cupid’s, not one of yours. 

Anubis twists out of your arms and you let him, locking the entrance to your store and leading Wonwoo to the back. You unlock one of the doors with a huff of exertion and a jiggle of the handle, turning to say, “Old building,” before pushing the door open and letting Anubis dart up the staircase in front of you. Wonwoo jerks the door closed and locks it with the key you hand him, following you up the stairs in near darkness. 

The room you lead him into is a bit smaller than your store, containing a compact kitchen and warm living room flanked by a wall with two doors. “Bathroom is on the right, if you need it.”

He slips off his shoes and excuses himself to freshen up, taking care of his business and washing his hands quickly. Chancing a look in the mirror, Wonwoo finds that he’s flushed, aglow with infatuation, his smile irrepressible and wider than ever. He almost can’t look himself in the eye, knowing that all he’d find is adoration for you, and perhaps a bit of nervousness. 

He doesn’t know what to expect now, doesn’t know if this is leading where he thinks it is or how to act in whatever case. But, not wanting to keep you waiting, he opens the door and shuts off the light, finding you sitting at your dining table with a full french press and two mugs in front of you. 

He wants to speed over but he strolls instead, trying to appear at least a little unaffected. That facade is broken when he stops a few feet from the table, suddenly unsure of whether he should sit next to you or opposite from you. 

Blessedly, you make the choice for him, sliding one mug across the table before smoothly depressing the plunger of the french press. 

The rich smell of coffee permeates the air as you gracefully pour, filling his cup with the steaming, dark liquid before filling yours. “Is black okay? I have sugar and oat milk, if you need them.”

“Black is great, thank you.”

He’s acclimated to the bitterness enough to appreciate the deeper notes, though it’s only because he was once too shy to ask for sugar. He sips carefully, wondering with a satisfied hum if this really is the best coffee he’s ever had or if he just thinks that because you made it for him. 

You fall into an easy chat, discussing pictures he took and customers you had while he was out and about, before you bite your lip and stare down into your coffee like it’ll give you strength. 

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something… personal?” 

Your eyes slowly return to his, and the heat in your gaze makes him want to pop open a few buttons on his shirt and fan himself.  

“Sure,” he says, with only a little trepidation. 

“What are you like in bed?”

Oh. 

Oh. You want to know what he’s like in bed. 

Have you thought about what he’s like in bed? Have you thought about being in bed with him? Have you thought about him and touched yours-

He should answer you before he lets himself get carried away.

“Um, I’m a little different, I suppose. I like to be more… dominant. Maybe a bit rougher than I may seem,” his voice is hushed, and he wants to look away from the intensity of your stare, but he finds he can’t. It’s like you’ve hypnotized him, entranced him with a single question. 

“Is there anything specific that you like?”

This conversation, he likes this conversation. A lot. He can feel his slacks tightening with it, his heart thumping far too hard to be healthy and his mind starting to offer up ideas so fast he can barely make sense of them. 

They’re mostly images, sensations, feelings, all modeled after you. 

“I like,” he begins slowly. “I like being in control. I think I’d like holding you down, making you take what I’m giving you. I like talking,” he chuckles wryly, before continuing.

“I like listening too. I wouldn’t want you to hold back, I’d want to hear every little noise I could pull out of you. And I think I’d really like using my hands first, making you cum until you cry. Or until you beg for my cock.”

You suck in a ragged breath and glance away before looking back at him. Finally, he can read you, desire obvious on your face and in the tight knuckled grip you have on your mug. 

You set it down cautiously, aware of the still scalding coffee inside, and push away from the table to stand. Wonwoo watches you walk around to his side, his gaze fighting to stay on your face and not on the way your dress moves over your thighs as you get closer and closer to him. 

You stop just a foot away, holding your hand out and waiting for him to take it with a slight air of impassioned impatience. He places his hand in yours and rises to his feet, valiantly ignoring the view of your breasts from this angle and following you when you turn and begin tugging him to the door on the left. 

“Are we done talking?” Wonwoo asks, exhilarated and aroused, his dick hardening so quickly it leaves him feeling dizzy. 

“Not even a little bit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and facing him again as you walk backwards towards your bed. 

He crosses the few steps between you, crowds you up to the edge of the bed and pushes you to lay down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. His hands won’t stay gentle for long, and he hopes you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me,” he whispers before leaning down and taking hold of your legs, pulling them apart and filling the space in between with his hips. 

“I will,” you gasp as he grinds against you, your dress pooled at the top of your thighs, just barely exposing your black panties. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.” 

I like everything you do. 

You don’t say it but he hears it anyway, the corner of his mouth lifting in a soft smirk before he braces his hands on either side of your head and moves in close. He doesn’t kiss you yet, just watches the way your eyelids flutter shut and your lips pout in preparation. You peek an eye open when he continues to hold himself away from you, your hand rising to cup his neck and attempt to tug him down to you. 

The second your fingers come into contact with him, he shifts his weight to one hand and grips your wrist with the other, pushing it down to the bed and holding it there. You bite back a smile, wriggle beneath him to get more comfortable, and drape your other hand above your head. 

That, he likes, and he rewards you by releasing your wrist and dragging his fingers up your inner thigh instead, digging them into the warm, soft flesh and groaning when he comes into contact with your panties. They’re soaking, so much wetter than he expected, and when he cups his big, cold hand over the seat of them, you shiver and buck up into his touch. 

“How long has it been for you?” Wonwoo asks, as if it hasn’t been literal years for him. 

“Um, a while, it’s been… a while,” you admit, seemingly shy for the first time. He should reassure you, but he likes the way you shrink beneath him, likes even more the thought of being your first in however long. He plans on being your last for the foreseeable future, so it’s only right he’s the one to break your dry spell. 

“Good,” he grins wickedly down at you, pulling your panties to the side and letting his fingers glide through your arousal. You’re soft, and sopping wet, and hot, so fucking hot, just for him, and already he’s wondering if he’ll be able to make good on his words.

If he’ll be able to hold himself back from you long enough to make you beg for it. 

He’ll do his best though, for you, and that starts with not grinding himself into your thigh. He needs to forget about his own pleasure, focus solely on yours, or he’ll be balls deep inside you before he’s even made you cum once. 

That won’t do, not when he wants you writhing on his fingers and pleading for his cock. 

So he pulls his hips away from you and tucks the tip of one digit into your entrance, sliding it in slowly enough that your face crumples in impatience, a low whine escaping you when he just leaves it there and drags his thumb over your clit. 

He wants to take his time, wants to learn you with his hands and his teeth and his tongue, wants to catalog your reactions and be able to take you apart diligently, passionately, like you deserve. 

This teaches him that you don’t like to be teased, and he decides to shelve the idea of edging for another day. He’ll go with overstimulation instead, he thinks, working another finger inside and rubbing more firmly with his thumb. Your face relaxes, your mouth opening on a sigh, and Wonwoo can’t resist leaning down to suck at your plump bottom lip as he curls his fingers inside of you, not yet searching for the spot that will make you gush for him. 

He’ll find it when he’s ready, when he feels like he’s built you up enough, and then he’ll use it to push you over the edge as many times as you can take. For now, he’ll savor the taste of your noises and start stretching out your perfect cunt. 

He pulls away from your mouth, fully aware that he could get lost in your kiss and intent on talking to you more before he lets that happen. 

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You know that, don’t you? You know how your cunt hugs them, sucks them in deeper and deeper, because you touch yourself, right?” 

You nod and Wonwoo allows it, won’t make you follow all of his rules until next time, until he’s sure you can handle it. 

“Did you touch yourself for me that night? After we met?” He asks softly, rewarding you with a tap right into your sweet spot when you cry out, “Yes!” 

“Did you say my name when you came?” His fingers pick up speed inside of you, fucking in and out to the beat of his own pounding heart. 

“Yes, Wonwoo,” you whimper, your hands twisting in the sheets above your head and your eyes squeezing shut before he pulls his fingers out and lands a wet smack on your inner thigh. You gasp and try to close your legs but Wonwoo is stronger than you, holds them open with both hands before leaning in close to kiss the stinging skin and say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

You nod tearily, holding his gaze as he sinks his fingers back inside of you and hovers close enough to your pussy that he’s sure you can feel his breath. He quirks his fingers up just as his tongue makes contact with your clit, and the way your lashes flutter but don’t fall brings a proud smirk to his face. 

“You’re a good listener, aren’t you?” He murmurs into your cunt. You start to answer but then he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you shudder out a moan instead. The sound sends electricity zipping down his spine and straight into his cock, making it throb for you in his slacks. 

He ignores it, shifting to rest on his knees and sucking harder, grinding his fingertips up into your front wall so he can draw that same sound out of you again. He told you before that he wanted to hear every little noise he could pull from you, and he meant it, including noises that don’t come from your mouth. 

You’re getting so wet, he can hear it, his fingers squelching inside of you with every thrust, every curl. He doesn’t remember his past partners being so aroused, and he’s already obsessed, already dead set on making you fucking drench him. 

He knows all he needs to do is make you cum and you’ll give him exactly what he wants, so he taps into your g-spot with more force, fucking his fingers into you hard and fast until your cries reach a fever pitch and your back arches. He doesn’t stop, dragging you through your orgasm and pushing you further even as your cunt ripples and squeezes around his fingers, the sensation so intense he almost feels the phantom pulse of you around his dick, too. 

It makes him groan, a deep, dark sound muffled by your pussy, and that seems to be what sends you careening over the edge again, your thighs attempting to clamp shut around him. He lightly smacks one with his free hand, gripping the soft fat and pushing it up and out so he has enough room to work. The other settles on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind that, likes the weight of it, wants you to feel stable and secure as he takes you apart piece by piece. 

You’re writhing on his hand, just like he wanted, your gaze teary and nearly empty, like your beautiful brain is focused on him and him alone, and ohhhh, he likes that, he likes that a lot. He wants to wreck you, wants to leave you with nothing in your head but thoughts of him and when he’ll make you break again. 

He doesn’t know if you can, but he’s desperate to see you flood him, to make you squirt all over him, regardless of the fact that this shirt is dry clean only. He’ll scrub it out in the sink if he has to, doesn’t care what happens to the fibers if it means he can make you cum hard enough to ruin them. 

You’re getting close again, he thinks with lurid satisfaction, his hand a blur between your thighs. He pulls away to murmur, “Hold your leg for me,” waiting for understanding to spark in your eyes. You wrap your hand beneath your knee and manage a wobbly smile, and Wonwoo feels affection burst in his chest like a firework, his lips curving in response as he brings his now free hand to your cunt. 

His fingers push at the crest of your pussy, exposing your swollen clit for his thumb to cover, the pad of it pressing down and rubbing harsh circles. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes water, your mouth stuck open on a needy moan that grows louder with every tap of your g-spot. It’s a whine soon enough, one that hitches in your throat as he fucks you with his fingers, and when he grinds his fingertips deep into you, he sees alarm grow in your eyes. 

You try to warn him but you can’t seem to speak, only blubbers of his name gracing his ears, making him grin ferally and say, “Don’t worry, baby, I want it to happen. I want you to fucking soak me, now.”

He honestly didn’t expect that to work but apparently, you can cum on command, or, as he tells himself, on his command, because you suck in a deep breath and keen for him. Your cunt flutters wildly around his fingers, clenching down on them and sucking them in before tightening to the point that he can’t move them, his fingertips locked into your sweet spot as you fucking gush. 

He can feel it spraying out onto his face and dampening his button down, arousal flowing out of you like a rushing river, making him groan out, “Fuck yes, just like that.” 

His voice is gravelly and low, desire deepening its pitch, and you shiver above him, though that may have more to do with the thumb still strumming your clit and the fingers still plugging you up. 

He could go again but he doesn’t want to push you too far this first night, doesn’t know where your limits lay or if you’re ready for him to find out for himself, so when your walls finally release his fingers, he slowly pulls them out and gently cups your pussy to help you calm down. 

He’s surprised when you speak, and even more shocked that it’s enough to make him laugh out loud. 

“All that and you didn’t even take my dress off,” you mumble, letting go of your thigh and reaching down to drift a hand over his hair, petting him like he’s an animal you’ve domesticated. 

Maybe he is, and maybe you have. You’re the only one that’s ever made him want to stay, to plant roots, to be domestic. 

Fondly, he says, “I did that on purpose. Now whenever you wear it, you’ll think about me.”

“I don’t need the dress to think about you, Wonwoo, I promise you that,” you hum, letting your eyes slip closed and missing the way his gaze fills with infatuation as he rests his cheek on your thigh and wraps his hands around your ankles. 

His glasses are splattered with you and so is the rest of him, his cock is hard and aching and leaky, and his knees are all but decimated from kneeling on your wood floor for so long, but Wonwoo has never been happier in his life. 

“Will you fuck me now?” 

His brows raise in disbelief, his fingers twitching on your legs, and he stands as quickly as he can manage, bracing one hand beside your head and taking hold of your chin with the other. You blink open your eyes to look at him, the haze in them just a bit clearer, though he’s sure your thoughts are still clouded with pleasure. 

“You still want me?” He asks in full seriousness, his dick pulsing at the thought of feeling your flawless cunt wrapped around it. 

“Yeah, you gonna make me beg?” You murmur, your gaze just a touch defiant. 

He wants to fuck that rebelliousness out of you. 

“I said I’d like to, didn’t I?” He responds slowly, greed simmering in his veins and surely obvious on his face. 

Your eyes narrow before you visibly collect yourself, finding that submissive side you seemed to lean into before. He watches as you let it take over, shrinking beneath him somehow, the expression on your face needy and compliant.

“Please Wonwoo, please give me your cock. I’ve thought about it since we met, since I noticed how built you were under that soaking white shirt. Your shoulders are so broad and your hands are so big and you’re so much taller than me. All I wanted was for you to pin me down and fuck me however you liked, and that’s still all I want.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, carefully concealing how fucking wild your words make him feel. He needs to maintain this illusion of control or you’ll gain the upper hand, and he can’t let that happen. He’s already going to give you exactly what you want, he’ll die before he lets you be smug about it too. 

It takes everything in him but he manages to pull away, releasing your chin and standing at his full height, a smirk rising at the way your hands leave their place above your head to cling to him. 

“Get up. Take your dress off,” he commands stoically, backing up and giving you space to push off the bed onto your feet. Your hands tremble as you reach for the hem, and in a brief moment of tenderness, he covers them with his and lifts it with you, laughing and helping you wrench it off when it gets stuck at the elbows. 

He stops laughing when you fling the dress onto the chair in the corner of your room and stare up at him, clad in just your skewed panties and a little bitten off grin. His eyes fall to your breasts, the shape and weight of them immaculate, just begging for his mouth. He fully plans on worshiping them at the next possible opportunity, but he’s got a different goal in mind now. His hands gravitate to your hips, fingertips tucking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down before returning to push you gently toward the bed. 

“Lay down for me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s being soft on you now. He’s still hard enough to cut glass but something in him just can’t be harsh when he feels like he does about you, especially after you already took what he gave you so well. Maybe it’s the vulnerable look in your eyes, maybe it’s the way his heart feels three sizes too big for his chest. 

But maybe it’s because when he looks back on your first time together, he doesn’t want it to look like his previous encounters. He wants it to look like a couple that loves each other, that knows they want to be together, that will make sacrifices for each other. 

Obviously, dominating you can still look like that, but right now his soul aches to be gentle with you. Emotionally, at least. 

He’s still going to fuck you into your mattress, he’ll just be kinder about it. 

You can tell that something has shifted in him and somehow it makes you even more pliant, your face open as you patiently wait for his next instruction. He doesn’t give one yet, reaching up to take his glasses off and wipe away the drying release with the edge of his button down before setting them on your night stand. 

He works on getting naked, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, carelessly letting it float down to the floor as he undoes his pants. He removes his socks next, pairing them up and dropping them to the side before pushing down his boxer briefs. 

It occurs to him that you haven’t talked about safety at all, and as he climbs over you, his thick, leaking dick dragging against your skin, he asks, “Do we need a condom?”

You swear under your breath and look down, biting your lip before whispering, “I’m not on birth control, and I have condoms but I honestly don’t think they’ll fit you. Do you have any?” 

He swears too, remembering the expired one in his wallet and sighing, “Not one that we could use. I get tested regularly and I’m negative for everything, but what do you wanna do?” 

“Um, well… I haven’t had sex since I last got tested and everything was clear, so what if you pull out? I track my cycle and I’m not ovulating right now.”

It’s risky, and sex without a condom isn’t something Wonwoo’s ever had, but he wants you more than anything, and he believes in his ability to honor your wishes and pull out when he needs to. 

“Let’s do that this one time, and I’ll get condoms for the future,” he agrees, smiling at the way your eyes get brighter when he says ‘future’. 

He settles back into his role seamlessly, though this time, he’s less domineering and more caring, to be sure. Your legs are already spread for him, but he slips his hands under your knees and tucks them up to your chest, resting your calves on his shoulders and setting one hand on the bed to hold himself up. 

The other reaches for his dick, and he fights back a shiver at the chill of his own touch, his perpetually cold hands freezing compared to his searing hot cock. He can’t help but lay it over your pussy, feeling his ears and the back of his neck tingle with a blush when he estimates where he’ll end inside of you. 

You squirm beneath him and he brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling his hips back enough to notch the head of his dick in your entrance before starting to push inside. You’re tight like this, all folded up, but your walls part to welcome him like he’s a missing piece of you, like he’s always been meant to fill you up when you’re empty. 

He moves slowly, not to tease you but to savor you, luxuriating in the feeling of your velvet heat, your perfect cunt as it forms around him. It could be minutes or hours before he bottoms out, but when he does, he almost can’t think, he’s so consumed by sensation. 

He closed his eyes without realizing it, and now he forces them open, only to find you already staring up at him, your gaze unwavering and your hands coming up to hold his where they push at your thighs. 

You seem breathless, and it’s probably partly due to the position but Wonwoo prefers to think it’s because you’re as overwhelmed as he is, so wrought with pleasure that it toes the line of pain. 

You’re still shorter than him, even like this, so he has to curve down to kiss you but it’s worth it because you bloom for him, moaning into his mouth and clenching around his cock when he glides his tongue against yours. With your lips still pressed to his, he draws his hips back a few inches, enough to feel air cling to the wetness on his cock, before thrusting inside sharply. His hips meet your ass with a loud smack, the only other noise in the room being your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his lips moving against yours. 

Again, he pulls out, almost to the tip this time, and sends his hips forward, grunting at the feeling of your cunt embracing him. It’s perfection, you’re perfection, and he resolves to be nothing but perfect for you too. 

He swallows your sounds and categorizes them; you whimper when he pulls out far and thrusts in deep, moan when he just grinds himself into you, yelp when he fucks you with sharp, fast bucks of his hips. He follows their lead like he’s untying a knot or working through a maze, methodically dismantling you down to your nuts and bolts. 

You’re barely kissing him back when he finally derives the best combination of pace and depth, your lips quivering against his as you whine continuously, the pitch rising every time he reaches the end of you. Your eyes are open but they’re glazed over, and he can’t tell if he’s fucked you dumb or fucked you to tears but either way, it makes his lips stretch in a vicious grin. 

He loves kissing you but that’s not what’s happening anymore, so he pulls away and puts more of his weight on your thighs, using the leverage to fuck into you harder. He doesn’t go faster, knowing that if he does, this will end far sooner than he wants it to. 

He’d like to draw at least one more orgasm from you before he cums, and he can’t do that if he’s got even more friction on his cock. He’s a little surprised there is any with how wet you are, but you’re perfectly matched to his size so your walls grasp him tight every time he pulls back, the drag of them flawless on his sensitive skin. 

Your sounds are louder now that he’s not muffling them with his mouth, melodic in his ears and something he knows he’ll reproduce in his mind again and again, whenever he’s away from you and feeling particularly lonely. 

He’ll have to cut down on his traveling now that he’s got you, but that doesn’t scare him like it used to. Instead, he’s excited to have someone who makes him want to stay and build a home, build a life. He kind of feels like this is the first step, making you his and giving himself to you in return, and it’s enough to make his cock twitch and leak just a little bit of precum inside of you. 

He takes that for the warning it is, consciously veering away from thoughts of domesticity and belonging before dedicating the whole of his body to making you cum. He pushes away from you to sit up on his knees and haul your ass into his lap, your calves still resting on his shoulders and his dick just barely inside of you. 

He angles his hips and thrusts back in shallowly, no longer hitting as deep but aiming the head of his cock at that innervated patch inside of you. Your eyes grow wide and you suck in a deep gasp, your fingers clenching around his where they hold your legs, your reaction letting him know he’s got you. 

He fucks into that spot relentlessly, wondering if he can make you cum with just his cock. He stimulated your clit before too but you feel like you’re getting close, and he doesn’t want to change something trying to help only to hinder you instead. 

He doesn’t have much time to think before you’re crying out his name urgently, your tone plaintive and your voice thin. It sounds like you’re right on the edge, looks like it too, your brows screwed up in pleasure and your eyes bright with bliss. He’s almost as close as you are, his orgasm spooled up at the base of his spine and ticking like a time bomb, just waiting for him to let himself go. 

“Cum, baby,” he pants, hoping beyond hope that you’ll listen and obey just one more time. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on, prays that he’ll be able to endure the euphoria your climax will bring, that he won’t have to ruin it by pulling out while you’re deep in its thrall. 

But you do listen, thank fuck, you do, your eyes rolling back and your cunt clamping down on him in a vise grip, the sheer heat and wetness of you enough to pull a strangled groan from deep in his throat. It takes everything in him not to cum with you, the feeling incredible and the sight just as glorious, the impact of both beyond the realm of imagination. 

He lasts just long enough to get you through your aftershocks, his chest heaving for air as he makes himself pull out of the eden of your cunt. Blood rushes in his ears and fluffy cotton candy fills his head, his thoughts no more than paper airplanes gliding on a warm breeze. He watches his cum cover your perfect tits in white stripes, feeling as if he’s out of his body and out of his mind. 

Your hands squeeze his and you breathe his name, slowly pulling him back to you, like he’s a balloon that’s floated away and you’ve miraculously caught his string. You’re blurry in his vision and he can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t have his glasses on or if he’s just crying, but either way he releases your legs and leans in close to see you better. 

You cup his cheeks and pull him into a soft kiss, the soothing, reassuring pressure bringing him back down to earth, back to you. He should be the one taking care of you right now, but he feels like he’s been cracked open, his soul and his heart bare, unprotected. 

“You’re okay,” you whisper, petting his cheekbones with your thumbs, and that’s what restarts him. 

He presses his lips to yours ardently, gathering up all of his feelings and pouring them into you, the intensity drawing a gentle sigh that travels from your mouth to his. He breathes it in before pulling away and focusing on you.

Lying down next to you, he pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky cum that smears on his chest when your breasts press against him. He holds you for a while, until his heartbeat feels close to normal and his head feels close to clear. He’s about to drift off when he remembers how dirty you both still are.

“Do you want to shower?” He asks in a low voice, grinning at the way your face scrunches in displeasure at the thought before you look up at him and respond, “Are we going to fuck again tonight?” 

He thinks on it for a moment, weighing options and offering his opinion, “I don’t want to tempt fate too many times, so I think we should just go to sleep for now and go out for condoms and Plan B tomorrow morning. Then I’ll fuck you all day, if you want.” 

You smile serenely and nod, your eyes already half lidded with exhaustion. 

“Does that mean you do want to shower, then?” He confirms, his fingers drumming on your bare back. 

“Yeah,” you pout, obviously reluctant to get up and get clean. 

“I’ll go start it and come get you when it’s warm. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do all the work,” he promises you, grinning when your pout stretches into a pleased little smile. 

He climbs out from under you and off the bed, walking on shaky knees to the bathroom, his soft cock hanging between his legs. He wonders if you have a washer, his shirt and boxers are not usable in their current state, but he can just use the sink if he needs to. He’ll have to go back to his hotel sometime tomorrow, to change and gather his things for his flight back home, and he’s already dreading the idea of it. 

It would be nice if he could get his film camera, maybe take a few pictures of you to tide him over until his transfer is finalized and he can find an apartment here. He feels like you’d be up for that, imagines photographing you in all kinds of positions and varying states of undress, safe in the knowledge that he can rent a darkroom and develop them himself. 

He struggles for a minute but figures out your shower eventually, turning it on and standing by until steam gathers on the mirror. He catches a glance at himself just before it fogs over, blushing at the image staring back at him. 

His lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed with exertion and joy, his eyes luminous for what feels like the first time in years. You’ve made your mark on him, tattooed him in gold, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same. 

That’s not something he minds. He even finds himself smiling at the idea of rearranging his pieces to fit with yours, of making space in his life for you and Anubis to fill. 

When he leaves the bathroom to get you, the cat is laying on the dining table, sprawled out with his eyes closed, and Wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. If he’s being honest, he forgot entirely that there was another being in this apartment, and he’s glad your activities didn’t seem to disturb him. 

He wants to smooth a hand down Anubis’s side but doesn’t want to wake him, so he stares at the cat for just a second longer before turning to your bedroom and poking his head through the door frame. 

You’re starfishing on the bed, his cum mostly dry on your tits and your eyes gently shut, and he can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of his chest. 

Like mother, like son.

Wonwoo draws in a deep, centering breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, grateful not for the first time that he’s in the city of love. 

This will be the first proposal he’s photographed today, the third this week, and for someone who’s always thought he didn’t mind love, he finds himself unbelievably excited. 

He calls your name, watches dust motes float through a shining sunbeam as you stir in the bed you share, your tired gaze finding him before it lands on the book beside you. Or, more accurately, on the ring sitting on the book beside you. 

You draw in a sharp gasp, your eyes flying to his, and he depresses the shutter button just as your face breaks into a beam bright enough to rival a supernova. 

He thinks this will be his favorite photograph yet. 

AN: And the book was titled April Shower and it contains your love story as written by your best friend, the end 💖

“Prendi una stanza!” - "Get a room!"

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” - "It's the city of love, Stefano, give us a break!"

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” - "Y/n? Carry on, dear!"

My Masterlist

#kaili 🪢 #svthub #k vanity #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt smut #svt fanfic #svt x you #svt x y/n #kpop oneshots #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios

[luvyeni]

p. nerd!jisung x femcheerleader!reader x cheerleader!felix | warnings: threesome, kissing, handjobs, blowjobs, mxm themes | words: 0.7k ~ (725) 🐿️🐥ㆍ₊⊹

request: if you do threesomes any two stray kids members please 🫶🏻 ( i really like your work.)

authors note. thank you my luv❤️ i hope you like it

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

you and your other cheerleader friend felix bringing back nerd jisung under the pretense of “hanging”

of course jisung was skeptical; both of he never even talk to any of you before today— he never really talked to anyone actually; he stayed to his lonesome, reading a book or doing works that won’t be due for another week or two, so when you and felix approached his lunch date asking for him to hang out after school, he was certain you two were playing with him— and he was wrong per say, you both were toying with him, but that was simply because you both wanted him.

you and felix loved nerds like jisung; wide eyes but never knows what’s going on around them type of guys — jocks never really did anything for the boy of you, but jisung did, and you both wanted to get your hands on him.

like usual jisung didn’t know what was happening, both of you sitting on your bed, he sat awkwardly on the end, watching you both talk about cheer and other stuff he really wasn’t interested in; he clutched the sheets, trying not to eye your legs in your shorts— biting his lips nervously as he kept focusing on the way felix’s lips moved, or the way his hand rested comfortably on your thigh.

“come here.” you finally acknowledged him. “come sit up here with us.” felix coaxed him up. “we invited you to hang out with us and you’re sitting so far away.” he slowly made his way to you two, sitting in between the both of you. “comfy?” you smiled, he nodded; cheeks rosy. “you’re so cute, you know that?”

“n-no.” he stuttered feeling your pink stiletto nails scratching his thigh, felix chuckled. “why are you so nervous jisung?” he questioned. “its just us.” It was felixs turn to put his hand on the other one. “just relax.”

he let out a sigh upon feeling your glossed lips touch his neck. “you’ve never had someone kiss you like that have.” Felix whispered, his hand finally coming to his pants, cupping his cock. “touch you down here?” jisung shook his head, you sucked little marks in his neck. “no-no.”

you smiled against his skin, of course he was a virgin. “you like the way felix is touching you?” you purred in his ear. “can i touch you too?” he moaned as felix unzipped his pants. “i-if you want to.” his eyes followed felix’s hand go into his underwear, touching him. “he’s so hard.”

Jisung felt like he was in heaven as both of your hands worked on his cock, stroking it, both of you kissing each side of his neck, he’s never felt anything like this before. “th-that feels really good.” he whimpered. “yeah?” you pulled away from his neck. “felix how about we make him feel even better?”

felix groaned, pulling away from him as well. “fuck yeah.” felix reached over, kissing you, your lips messily moving against each other; it was natural to you both, you often engaged in things together, no one could satisfy you like each other could. “wh-what are you gonna do?”

you both smiled at each, pushing his legs apart. “make you feel good.” he didn’t know what that meant until he felt both of your lips on his cock. “oh my.” he gasped as you licked his tip. “he taste good.” felix took him into his mouth much like you did. “fuck that feels good.” you licked a stripe up the base his length, meeting felixs mouth at the tip; jisung was gonna blow his load, all of this was just too hot for him; only an hour ago he’d only touched himself a few times, but this was different, both of you working on his cock; taking turns stroking and sucking, making all while making out each other. “i’m gonna cum.” he whimpered.

you both felt his cock twitch, he let out a moan, cum spurting from his mushroom tip, landing on both your faces. “fuck.” Jisung cursed, he’d never cum this much before; and he was still hard. “awe lixie.” you pouted, jisung thought you looked innocent, despite his cum all over your face. “he’s still hard.”

“that’s because he hasn’t had that pretty pussy yet, just wait.” felix said, you moaned feeling felix touch your clothed cunt. “maybe you should fuck him first, let him feel your big cock.” jisung moaned. “tell us baby what do you want first?” you purred. “my cock or her pussy?” jisung didn’t care at this point, he wanted it all. “b-both.”

you turned to each other. “he’s naughty, i like him.” You said. “lets keep him.” felix nodded. “whatever you want pretty.” He watched you get naked, whispering against jisungs neck. “lets fuck him yn , before i explode.” you straddled his lap, kissing his nose, both of you watching felix undress. “you’re ours now.” your finger traced his jaw. “gonna let us use you whenever we want?” jisung nodded. “pl-please use me.”

jisung didn’t know what you both meant by that, but he didn’t care, he wanted both of you— right now. “good boy.” felix groaned stroking his cock.

“cause we’re gonna drain for everything you got baby boy.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #stray kids drabbles #skz x female reader #skz x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung hard hours #felix x reader #lee felix scenarios #lee felix smut #lee felix hard thoughts #lee felix hard hours

[nachojaehyun]

head so good, she a honor roll

pairing. idol wonu + new staff! fem! reader

summary. if wonwoo had to describe his new stylist in one word, it would be unpredictable. i mean, who would have known you were this good at sucking his soul?

warnings. [PLEASE READ] oral (m), light throat fucking, messy/sloppy head, the best head he had EVER received, wonu wears glasses, teasing, he almost cries, mentions of past sexual encounters, THICK dick wonu, no gag reflex queen reader — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. jeon wonwoo, you genuinely deserve the best head in the universe. thank you for existing king.

wonwoo felt like he was going to pass out.

the tides of pleasure were overwhelming him, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bit his lip to subdue his noises.

initially, he hadn’t thought much of you at all. when PD Na announced that a new staff member was joining the Seventeen crew, wonwoo could only clap and bow as you entered the room.

you were pretty— he’d give you that. your features were pleasant to the eye, and the thick framed glasses you adorned on your first day made him smile.

he was happy to know that he wasn’t the only one who was batshit blind in the room.

you were his stylist. of course you had taken him to get his color analysis done, taken him to multiple stores across Seoul, brought him piles of clothes for performances and off duty days.

you were his stylist. of course you had seen him almost naked, but you had never bat an eye at him, only instructing him to “wear his clothes faster.”

you were his stylist. of course you had first hand experience in the most embarrassing encounter in jeon wonwoo’s career— you had seen his dick rip out from a pair of very tight slacks. you still remained stoic, carefully asking him to take his pants off as you went to search for another pair. he was red in the face, cock half hard as he tightly fisted the curtain of the changing room in shame.

you were his stylist. so why on earth were you sucking his cock like your life depended on it?

wonwoo swears he didn’t know how it happened. you had texted him half an hour ago that you were going to drop off some clothes at his apartment before his fitting tomorrow.

it was supposed to be a simple exchange— you would give him the bag and you would leave.

but of course he had his phone silenced and didn’t see your notification.

of course he was sitting on the living room couch, fisting his length in his hand as he tried to relieve the tension in his muscles from dancing for 4 hours straight.

of course he forgot to lock the door to his apartment while he was blatantly moaning like a whore—

here you were, mouth dragging along his tip as you looked up at him through your long lashes, glassy eyes blinking innocently. the bag of clothes you had brought to him was long discarded, laying limp on the floor near his coffee table.

the grey contacts you had on make wonwoo shiver, whimpering as your tongue swirled around his tip.

“fuck baby, quit playin,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair as he watched you down his cock like a champ. wonwoo’s glasses were sitting at the edge of his nose, lenses fogging up.

his hand reached out to fist your hair in a makeshift ponytail, mouth falling into a near pornographic growl as he felt your hands fondle his balls.

his cock was unbelievably thick. your jaw was nearly falling slack. however, the salty taste of his precum was far too addicting for you to care about your own discomfort.

you hollowed your cheeks, trying to feel every ridge and every vein that his pretty cock had to offer. you pulled him out of your mouth soon after, placing kisses along his side as you suckled on his tip.

your free hand came to jerk off his base, spitting onto his leaky tip to use as lube, adding more pressure as his eyebrows scrunched.

“ ’m close— hah!” he whined, tears coating his lashes as you took him in with no warning.

unable to hold himself back, wonwoo harshly yanked your head back, rolling his hips into your mouth. you moaned at his rough treatment, sending vibrations that tightened the knot in his stomach.

“shit shit shit!” wonwoo grunted, feeling his dick weigh down on your tongue that continued to lick and torture him while he used your mouth as his personal fleshlight.

you could feel him twitch inside you.

to give him the final push over the edge, you lazily dragged your freshly manicured nails gently against his balls, cupping the two as he emptied inside your mouth.

wonwoo’s hips stuttered as his thighs shook, feeling ropes of his cum spurt into your open mouth.

he pulled out slightly, jerking off to give you the rest of him. you simply sat on the floor, wagging your tongue, catching every drop of his seed. as soon as you swallowed his release without any question, wonwoo felt himself getting hard again.

wordlessly, you wiped your mouth of the drool that had dribbled past your lips. pushing your weight from your thighs, you glanced at your wristwatch before smiling.

“see you at 8 tomorrow, wonwoo-ssi. don’t be late.”

with that, jeon wonwoo watched you wave him goodbye and walk out the door.

his mind was blown as he breathed out softly, still coming down from the best orgasm he ever had in his life.

sure, he had been blown before. but most girls were too scared to keep him in for more than a few minutes, complaining that their jaw hurt from his sheer length and thickness.

but you? dear god, you and your perfect self never complained, silently taking his cock in your mouth. you didn’t care about your own pleasure, mind consumed by the man wearing glasses in front of you, shock written all over his features.

“fucking hell, what is she doing to me?” wonwoo groaned, fisting his once again hardened member as he begin to circle his tip with a thumb.

he felt sensitive from his last high, closing his eyes as he imagined the scene all over again— wondering how many positions he could bend you over in.

if only he knew that you were in your car, fingers curling inside your folds as you moaned out his name. his cock had moulded your throat.

© nachojaehyun, 2024

#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt #svt x reader #svt x you #nachojaehyun #seventeen hard hours #seventeen smut drabbles #seventeen drabbles #seventeen thoughts #svt hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts #kpop

[swampjawn]

Does this shot from Dungeon Meshi episode 16 remind you of anything?

...Maybe this shot from episode 11?

Well it should, because it was Animated by the same guy, Atsushi Yoneda! (米田 温) (Probably. He was credited for a key frame a few seconds later, and it looks very similar, so I'm fairly confident it's his work.)

While breaking down the animation in Dungeon Meshi, I naturally tend to focus a lot on key animators Kai Iakarashi and Ichigo Kanno because of their highly recognizable and stylized motion that has defined the series,

But while Yoneda's work is less immediately recognizable (and less ubiquitous), I also appreciate his penchant for realism. Laios's face, which just a second ago was approachably cartoony, is now uncomfortably detailed - his nose and eyes become real, human and volumetric instead of simplified indications, and his teeth suddenly become individual teeth instead of just a line.

Just as the snappy, exaggerated movements and simplified shapes work well to heighten the energy in the most frantic moments, this more straightforward movement and grounded, realistic detail often brings it all back down to earth and contextualizes whatever crazy decision was just made in the real human experience that comes as a consequence of it: diving through a goop wall (with your mouth open for some reason), launching yourself off a cooking pot towards the face of an angry dragon, or even getting voluntarily engulfed in tentacles. (He also seems to be the go-to tentacle guy for the series so far) Yoneda is always there to show the reality right after the split-second decision.

And that contrast between realism and stylization is sort of a theme throughout this episode, from the Ushi-Oni depicted in a different style to the rest of the world, to this scene where Shuro's realistic stare of disbelief clashes with the cartoonish reverse-shot of Laios cheerfully explaining why he was eating a brick. I get into all that in more detail in this video where I broke down the entire episode, so if you found this interesting, consider checking it out!

Thanks for reading.

#dungeon meshi #animation analysis #mini essay #atsushi yoneda #anime #laios touden #video #shuro #Youtube

[fraugwinska]

A very incomplete list of Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction Authors/Geniuses

I cannot believe the awsome, talented, absolute magnificent people I've met through this fandom. Writing FF for Hazbin Hotel has become one of my greatest joys in life, and reading the stories and creations of my fellow friends and idols is something that can brighten my whole week - and we don't gatekeep. So, if you're in search for a good read, here are a few of the SUPER AWSOME people I stalk (and I want to stress - this list is never going to be complete, but I'll try to edit it as there are just SO MANY GODDANG MASTERS out there!) @bapple117 If you love #RadioStatic, you have to read 'Bluest Monday' (completed) and the follow-up 'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye' (WIP) She'll break your heart in the most beautiful way. If you don't fancy that but Alastor is your go-to, then you will want to dive in head-first into "If You Can't Say Somethin' Nice, Don't Say Nothin' At All" (complete). But as before, be ready for a rollercoaster of emotional moments and extremely spicy shenanigans.

@hazelfoureyes Goddess of the smut, Hottest writer in Hell - If you're horny, Hazel has got you covered. Especially her 'The safeword is Radioapple'-Mini-series will make you sweat like a Zumba-Instructor on crack. Be prepared to blush, tremble, die and immediately ressurrect, because yes. She is THAT good.

Clover/corruptedteacups on AO3 With whooping 75 chapters and 300k+ hits, her Fanfic 'The Red means I Love you' is one of the best, most detailed slow-burn-pining-angsty-smutty-will-they-wont-they Masterpieces I've read so far. Alastor is magnificent and I guarantee you'll fall in love with Clover, the bunny who captures the heart of you deerest red demon.

@melodyonthewireless Highly underappreciated (imho), her fic "A Match made in Hell" (WIP) follows her OC Sybil down to hell, into the Hazbin Hotel and consecutively the arms of Alastor - but don't you dare underestimate the pink, harmless looking doe. Sybil's witch powers and her sassy, witty personality is quite the match to the established readio overlord. It's such a read, and the wait between chapters the sweetest agony!

@macabr3-barbi3 She delivers every. single. TIME. Her Short stories and One-Shots are like Pringles - Once you pop, you can't stop. I'm deeply in love with 'Dream a little Dream' (WIP), 'Nothing I can't Handle' (WIP) makes me run for a cold shower and did I mention the countless one-shot-candies that make you mouth water and your toes curl?

@slutforalastor/InconspicuousBosch on AO3 Whether it's the One-Shots on tumblr (omg the PRIEST ALASTOR BIT *fans face*) or the incredible Choose-your-Path-Fic "Say it with a smile" (completed) - you will be both amazed at the artistry of the wording and storybuilding and blushing at the sheer craft of the smut and sexual tension.

@impale-me-radio-daddy Founder of the kink #antlerplay, his series of 'The Lookalike' is steamy, outrageous, utterly magnificent and filthy down to the bones. Be prepared for some serious questioning of your own preferences, because you WILL get some epiphanies. And that's a PROMISE.

@hurthermore Listen. LISTEN. Bimbo is the mini-series that had me on a friggin CHOKEHOLD. It takes a special talent to make one so invested in THE radio demon, gentleman a la carte Alastor believably pining after and pounding a lovable, dumb airhead sinner with a fable for skimpy dresses and leave you at the end wanting for seconds and thirds!

As I said, this is a highly incomplete list, and I'll absolutely edit this list as I go. But I needed to put this out in the world. To all of the above, and all of those which I didn't include YET but most certainly will -

I ADORE YOU, I PRAY AT YOUR FEET, YOU ARE AMAZING BEINGS AND I LOVE YOU.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel smut #radiostatic #radioapple #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel #fraugwinskaandfriends #ily fellow beings #author appreciation

[rowanswriting]

𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

steddie x fem!reader collab with @voyeurmunson

summary: a facetime call with Eddie and Steve gets heated

warnings- masturbation (f), mlm, jerking off, dirty talk, fantasizing, dick slapping, if I miss anything tell me!

wordcount- 1.8K

a/n: thank you guys for reading we hope you enjoy this, feedback is always appreciated and welcome! 💞

October 2022

Being cooped up indoors was making you stir crazy, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in a week and you could feel the withdrawal setting in. Eddie had gone to visit Steve, his best friend that currently lived in Chicago. He was a CEO, a big shot but Eddie swore he was down to earth. You had to admit he was easy on the eyes and even you’d seen Eddie glance at him in a much more that friendly way before. You sighed as you slumped back onto your bed, opening your laptop before clicking on FaceTime. Eddie called every night around the same time, sure he wasn’t physically with you but seeing him always made you feel like a schoolgirl with their first crush.

“Hey sweetheart.” You smile as you see your boyfriend’s frizzy hair, his brown eyes sleepy as he rubs them with the back of his hand. “Missin’ me again peanut?” You nod, as he grins at you, the dimples on his cheeks prominent. “Can’t help it Ed’s you’ve been gone for way too long, tell Steve I want my boyfriend back.” You whine out, hearing Steve’s laugh ring out from somewhere in their room. He quickly pops into view, sitting down next to Eddie. His glasses sliding down his nose before he pushes them back up and grabs a blanket, curling up. “Sorry, didn’t you know he was my man before he was yours?” Steve says, winking at you as you roll your eyes playfully.

“So sorry, forgot you guys are married.” You say, Eddie laughs, leaning back against the couch as you watch the both of them. They both looked like sin, Steve with his brown sweater that complimented his eyes far too well… and Eddie, who didn’t even bother to put clothes on only in his boxers, the black hair on his stomach tempting. You wanted to run your tongue over it. Your mind wanders as they take turns telling you about what they had been up to today, you weren’t catching all of it simply because your mind couldn’t stop thinking about how you wanted to be between them.

You craved the feeling of Eddie’s calloused hands running over your body, down, down, getting closer to where you needed him the most before he’d pull away, a cruel smile dancing on his lips as you’d whine quietly. Steve would be on the other side of you, leaning down to your neck, his nose gently tracing up the side of it before nipping at your ear playfully. You snapped out of it as Steve’s hand waves in front of the camera, you feel yourself flush as Eddie’s laugh comes through your speakers. “What were you thinking about sweetheart?” He asks, a knowing look in his eyes as you glance over to the clock on your bedside table. “N-nothing really, just miss you Eddie.” You whisper, chewing on your lip nervously before looking back over at the two of them.

Steve sets his coffee down, glancing over at Eddie before leaning over to whisper something to him. Eddie smiles looking at you before nodding at Steve. You huff in annoyance. “Hey, no secrets, what's going on guys?” You ask, adjusting your shirt as you sit up against your headboard. “So Steve and I have had this idea, because sorry sweetheart you’re way too obvious about how you feel. I see how you look at the both of us.” You stop breathing for a second, your face heating up as you think about slamming your laptop shut. Shit. “We just wanted to ask you if you wanna have some fun.” He says, leaning forward some so that his eyes are practically burning through yours. “A-and what would this fun be Eddie?” You squirm a little, looking at where Steve was sitting, his eyes were glued to you.

“Oh I think you know sweetheart, I think you’ve been fantasizing some filthy things in that pretty little head of yours. We want to hear about it baby, is that okay?” You close your eyes, trying to ground yourself before opening your mouth to answer. “Yes sir, I’ll tell you.” Eddie nods. “Good girl. Every thought baby, they all belong to Steve and I. One more thing though peanut, I want you to touch yourself too while you tell us. Can you do that, baby?” You nod, your fingers twitching at the hem of your shirt as you focus on them.

“Was thinking about you touching me, both of you, touching me.” You slowly slide your hands up your shirt, your fingers leaving goosebumps as you imagine your hardest that they belong to either of the men on your laptop screen. You let your mouth run, your mind shutting off as you tell the both of them every deep and dark fantasy that’s played through your mind when seeing them. You bite your lip, your eyelashes fluttering as you try your best to keep your eyes open. There’s a moment where Eddie says something to Steve but you’re too lost in the moment to care.

Your fingers slip under the band of your shorts, sliding lower until a dampness covers them. Your breathing shortens as you hear Steve let out a choked moan, you glance at the screen again watching as Eddie’s hand slides over onto his lap, his ringed fingers teasing the prominent bulge straining against his pants. “You’re doing so good, baby.” Eddie whispers, his hand wrapping around Steve’s clothed cock the best that it can. Steve grips the back of the couch, the muscles in his neck straining as he lets out little huffs of air. His face is red as he lazily watches you. Your boyfriend is all too smug next to Steve while he teases him. “Show us what you wish we were doing to you honey.”

You slowly lift your hips, pushing your shorts off before your panties follow quickly behind. You scoot the computer down, making sure they have a perfect view of you as you spread your legs. You’re so wet you can feel it running down to your ass, ruining the sheets below you. You close your eyes as you imagine the two men in your room with you, caressing your skin as you lay before them. “She’s so pretty Eddie.” Steve moans, the sound of a slick fist can be heard, you didn’t know if it was his or Eddie’s. Your fingers trail down your thighs before you finally touch yourself for them. You gently place them against your clit, a sort of hiss breaking its way from your throat as you finally circle it slowly.

“There’s a good girl.” You hear Eddie say, your eyes open slowly and you think you’ve died and gone to heaven at the sight before you. The boys had made quick work while your mind was floating, not only were they completely undressed now… Steve’s hand was wrapped around Eddie, and Eddie’s hand around Steve. The both of them slowly work over each other, the sound of their wet skin and moans making butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Oh fuck.” You moan, as you slip two fingers inside yourself, “Want you both so bad, n-need you here, want you inside.” You say, your fingers slowly sliding in and out of yourself before you pick up speed, thinking about how they’d feel inside you, on you. You wanted their mouths on you, you wanted them to use you. “Fuck, Steve… Eddie.” You moan out.

“Look at her big boy, she’s crying for you. Think she could take this big dick?” He asks, taking his hand off of Steve before slapping it a few times. The muscles in his legs twitch as his body tries to coil away, the moans coming from his mouth telling a complete different story. You feel yourself throb, watching beads of pre-cum slide down Steve onto Eddie’s fist as he wraps his hand back around the other man. “Make him cum Eddie, wanna see.” You mumble, your other hand coming up to play with your tits, pinching and pulling your nipples until you feel like crying. Eddie smirks over at Steve, running his hand back up to squeeze at his sensitive head as Steve lazily strokes Eddie, his hand pausing every few seconds. “Gonna show her? Think she wants a show, Stevie.” Steve nods, his hair falling around his face as the muscles in his stomach tense up.

Eddie flicks his wrist over him a few more times before Steve is cumming, his eyes latched onto your fingers watching the way they push in deeper. “Fuckkk.” He moans, he sounds like he’s been taken straight from a porno as he fucks up into Eddie’s fist, his lips swollen and raw from how hard he’s bitten them. His hand grips tighter onto Eddie, creating a pain that has Eddie reeling, his own release threatening to break at any moment. Eddie’s eyes shut as Steve comes down a little more from his own high, stroking over the older man with a sick sort of smile on his face, he’s glancing between the both of you. “You should feel how hard he is honey, I just know he wishes he could cum in your pussy right now.” Your hips buck off of the bed as you pull your fingers out of yourself quickly, gliding them back up and around your clit.

“Y-yes Steve oh fuck, please, make him cum, want him to cum in me please I-” your rumbling is cut short as you spread your legs a bit more, your fingers pace growing erratic as Eddie moans. His head is leaned back against the couch, the curls that you love to pull on so much falling down over his shoulders, sweat is beading on his forehead and running down the side of his face. Steve does something that finally breaks you, leaning towards Eddie and opening his mouth. Your eyes focus hard as he sticks his tongue out, licking up from Eddie’s jaw to the side of his face before he’s pulling away, staring straight at you. “Cum. Right now. Both of you.” He demands. The both of you obey Steve’s command, your bodies giving up and at his mercy.

You’d never experienced something like this before, and you already feel addicted to it as your body shakes. You try to watch Eddie cumming too but you can’t keep your eyes open as you drift off into a blissful state, your chest heaving as you slump back against your bed, worn out. You faintly hear Steve’s voice muttering out praises as you smile happily, finally able to open your eyes. Eddie’s still leaned back against the couch, a dopey smile on his face as Steve laughs at him. “You weren’t kidding man, she’s perfect.” Eddie nods slowly like he can barely hold his head up. “We're doing this again sweetheart, if you want to of course?” You’ve never answered a question faster in your life, “Yes! please.” Eddie chuckles, slowly leaning down to pull his boxers back up. “Steve’s ticket has already been bought sweetheart he’s coming back with me.”

Oh my god. You’re doomed.

taglist 🏷️

@gri959 @munsonsgirl1234 @jamdoughnutmagician @strangerthingsmamareblogs @littlexdeaths @vecslut

#eddie munson smut #steddie smut #steddie #steddie x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader smut #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn smut

[bbina]

between the lines ★ between the lines

⤷ from what started as a simple arrangement to hide your feelings for a certain someone by getting into in a fake relationship soon turns into a tangled mess. in which some things are hard to tell when you can’t read between the lines

 ˗ˏˋ prev | main masterlist | between the lines masterlist ˎˊ˗

★ notes .ᐟ and they lived happily ever after. words cannot express how thankful and happy i am for you all to read the journey of this little fanfic i call between the lines. it's been one hell of a long ass ride (no pun intended!) who knew this would actually take off two months ago. we've made it so far guys and we built a little community throughout it all. again, thank you sosososos fucking much for reading it this far. i've read every single comment and all of it just brings a smile to my face. as this story ends, another starts. this isn't the end for ynbin since they'll be popping up here and there with the bonus chapters and all but yeah.. i love you all so much and i'll definitely miss ynbin and the backstreet boys now that it's over IM CRY. see you guys in my next alternate universe! love, bbina <3

p.s lmk what you guys think of the whole story and other shit you always wanted to ask or tell me! now that its over i think its time for some final reviews of the whole story and how it wrapped up!

★ taglist .ᐟ @callanton @annswwa @renjuneoo @pinkraindropsfell @lecheugo @ilovejungwonandhaechan @ahnneyong @haechansbbg @snowyseungs @sseastar-main @odxrilove @leeknowarchives @onlywonb @wonychu @leehanascent @au-ghosttype @revehosh @keilovr @kyusqult @dreamyyyz @ether-yeol @yangasm @qwonbani @starwonb1n @ffixtionista @daegale @scrumptiousloser @seunghancore @koryutte @ohmykwonsoonyoung @reenfluffmarshmallow @bunni @artstaeh @yizhoutv @sie17136 @koeuh @07yujin @poollabug @vernonburger @dutifullyannoyingfox @000rpheus @wccycc @sunus-sun @highhjime @chweverni @heartlvrrss @s9nwoo @yoursyuno @rosesfortaro @lampcults

#between the lines #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fake texts #riize scenarios #wonbin imagines #wonbin x reader #wonbin fake texts #wonbin scenarios #riize social media au #riize smau #wonbin social media au #wonbin smau #park wonbin imagines #park wonbin x reader #park wonbin fake texts #park wonbin scenarios #park wonbin social media au #park wonbin smau #riize au #wonbin au #park wonbin au #park wonbin #wonbin #riize wonbin

[sillysadduck]

I never wanted it to get to this point, but I don't have a choice. I finally made a paypal and I'm trying to set up a ko-fi.

Please read to the bottom and reblog, for the first time I seriously need your help, I mean it.

Hi again, context for my desperate behavior:

For those who know me from my dhmis or fnaf fanart, you know I have been around for years, and I was always happy to bring you free requests. I have never asked for money, it didn't feel right for me even when you were willing to donate to help me escape my living situation, but I am eternally thankful with those who offered ♡ having said this, you know I would never ask unless I absolutely HAVE to.

I'm studying -and pretty much living- with the money of a scholarship, but with the costs of food and books I cannot afford to live. I'm not being dramatic, I have spent more than one day without eating in the last few weeks.

I'm off my meds because I cannot afford them either.

I can't work because I'm the only one who takes care of my disabled sister at home, my mom isn't strong enough to pick her up and change her on her own anymore even if she tries. The days when I'm not home, I'm at college all day trying to survive while my elderly aunt helps take care of my sister.

Recently, what made me hit rock bottom was that my cat, Chimu, started peeing blood. My parents refused to help me pay for his vet bills, even when they're the ones who adopted him. He cries in pain everyday, he's a cat from the streets with a mental disability and I'm the only one who cares about him. The cat food for cats with urinary issues is $70, it may not seem like a lot but I'm surviving with $20 a month (in my country's currency, minimum wage is around $200) and I didn't care about suffering on my own but I won't drag him down with me.

Plus, this month, the government website has been glitching and I didn't receive the money I had been receiving so far. I need your help, if you can't buy then please reblog. I'm currently trying to set up a ko-fi too. I need you more than ever, even if I'm not as active as I used to be, as you can see now there is good reason for my absence.

TLDR: I can't afford to eat, study, or save my family cat, and my parents are pretending I don't exist. Please help me.

Thank you if you read this far <3

#commissions open #emergency commissions #art #digital art #ill tag my fandoms bc I honestly dont know what to tag. #fnaf #dhmis #undertale #art commisions #comisiones abiertas #arte digital #my art

[tcustodisart]

Because the farm is really Shadowheart's ending I was thinking, what would be Connie's post-game thing (he loves the farm life to pieces, but I was thinking, you know, if he was a companion what he'd be talking about during the epilogue party). And I came up with this idea - he writes and illustrates the very first Guide to the Birds of Faerûn. I don't want to torment you with my words, so if you're interested, the rest is under the cut. It's long but there are some additional doodles there.

About the book:

The book is basically like Collins Bird Guide. Including very detailed descriptions of what sounds the birds make.

Connie's already in touch with a publisher (recommended by Volo)

While Shadowheart does proofreading to see if it's digestible for non-bird-obsessed people, Connie's stepfather and Arnell help him with fact checking.

Connie was consulting Halsin while writing about waterfowl.

The book's dedication reads: "To my dearest wife and our four dogs, eight cats, nine chickens, six pigeons, four sheep, Daphne the milk cow, the odd little squirrel, Buttons and last but not least, our crow."

He thought that dedication was hilarious.

After publishing the book, he's been getting at least one letter every week regarding it.

Thanks to these letters the book gets improved with further editions.

He gets invited to various schools across the country to hold lectures but he almost always declines. (Public speeches aren't his thing and he also doesn't want to leave the farm that often.)(He made one exception for Gale because he asked very nicely and didn't take no for an answer).

Far in the future nobody remembers him as one of the heroes who saved Baldur's Gate. He's being remembered as one of Faerûn's best ornithologists.

Other companions reactions:

Lae'zel genuinely liked the book. So much in fact, she read it more than once.

Tara hates Mondays.

I projected on Karlach how hard it is to read books sometimes.

The scary part of the book was the birds of prey section.

Jaheira didn't even read the book, but she does a bang up job pretending she did. She's still very proud.

Shadowheart read it so many times during proofreading she could recite some parts with her eyes closed. For a week she had nightmares about geese.

Details:

Because whenever I make a drawing with a proper background I like talking about the details I put there. So:

The picture of magpies on the wall is the same one Connie gave Shadowheart in this comic. She kept it in the same book she kept the first night orchid he gave her.

That brigs us to the night orchid next to magpies. It's the same one.

There's a doodle of Shadowheart and Daphne near the window.

As references for all the feathers in this drawing I used feathers from my own collection.

Wooden duck is obviously the one Halsin gives you in the epilogue.

The bird drawings are from this drawing I made almost 3 years ago.

Oof, thank you for reading all that, here's one last doodle:

#bg3 #connecticut tav #shadowheart #baldur's gate 3 #oc:faust #what can i say: brainrot

[thatseitagremlin]

gremlyn's danganronpa: despair time x limbus company au (drdt spoilers under cut up to chapter 2!!)

i LOVE making aus with a target audience of one person (1) by blendering two of my current interests together. this truly was our despair time.

everyone except mai's "sprites" are drawn based on official sprites, and they're meant to be height accurate! or, uh, a valiant attempt was made. at the very least i got to practice drawing everyone 🎉

(complete but constantly changing AU & character notes under cut: LOTS and i mean LOTS of yapping down there. spoilers up to chapter 2 and literature girl insane MV. content warning for "standard danganronpa stuff"; the hidden text in here is about the same level as drdt's hidden tumblr page quotes)

first up is a quick crash course on limbus company! that being said, i don't think i explained myself well at all, so i recommend just checking out the official website. or straight up playing it. i'm happy to answer any and all questions, though, whether here or in my limbus-centric main (@iamjustagremlin)!

and now here are the character notes. i have a Lot to say.

one more minor thing i'm 99% sure forgot to include and am too lazy to fix: the canon sinners are each assigned a color code and a cool descriptor (it doesn't even need to be an adjective. cool factor always wins), such as "oblivion yellow", "dreamy gray", and "inferno red". my brain won't let me tackle these yet, but my first attempt for xander was "courageous crimson", and my first attempt for teruko was "cursed clover".

once again, if you've made it this far: thank you for reading! and my askbox is always open for mutual brainrotting 👉 👈

(also, if you squint at the character notes for long enough, there might be even more to read... it's not much, but it's honest work. do note that it should be about as "heavy" as drdt's hidden tumblr page quotes)

#gremlynposting #ingin menjadi illustrator namun enggan menggambar #drdt #danganronpa despair time #limbus company #gremlyn's drdt x lcb au #the target audience for this post is one (1) person and it's me. yippee! #a secret tool that will help us later #xander matthews #rose lacroix #charles cuevas #arei nageishi #ace markey #arturo giles #j rosales #nico hakobyan #levi fontana #min jeung #david chiem #eden tobisa #teruko tawaki #veronika grebenshchikova #whit young #hu jing #mai akasaki #monotv #nearly hitting the tag limit here but making it work!! #also so sorry for no alt text on the au notes :( tumblr literally wouldnt let me add that much alt text

[hellfirenacht]

Meet Me At 4:20

Summary: It’s hard to be the new kid in a small town during senior year, and there’s only one person you actually want to be friends with. So you do the only logical thing, and set up a drug deal. 

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, SFW, drug deals, meet cute, one shot

Notes: Thank you, @jo-harrington for helping me title this <3 If you read the original version I posted last fall, no you didn't.

Word Count: 2.3k words

Master List

You sat at the old picnic table, far away from the school. It was a quiet and mild autumn day, leaves were clinging to the trees and there was a satisfying crunch to the ground when you made your way through the woods.

You counted each breath in and out in counts of four. It wasn’t the drugs that you were planning on buying that made you nervous, but the man selling them. It felt so stupid, this whole plan was completely ridiculous but at this time you didn’t have any better idea to go off of.

You didn’t even like weed.

Your eyes closed and you played a cassette tape at a low volume, muffled sounds of music pulsating through your ears. If you could focus on this, then you could relax. You could talk to Eddie. You were sure that you could do it this time. You hoped you could do it.

The faint crackling of leaves crunching under footsteps alerted you to his presence. You kept your eyes closed and your breathing steady, not daring to open your eyes yet. The last thing you wanted was for Eddie to see you a shaking mess, anxious and stuttering and probably tweaking.

“Hello?”

You opened your eyes slowly, looking up at the man in front of you. Eddie watched you with a look of mild confusion, his hand dropping to his side as if he had been waving it in an attempt to get your attention. You removed your headphones and gave a small smile.

“Hey, sorry. Long day.” you said, only stumbling over your words a little.

“I get it.” Eddie said, taking a seat across from you on the table. His black lunchbox thumped down in front of him, and he looked at you expectantly.

“So… how does this work here?” you asked. looking between him and the lunchbox. This was the most you had dared look at him since you moved to Hawkins a few weeks ago.. Having his attention, his eyes on yours, almost felt like too much. You couldn’t stop the nervous smile from spreading across your face, and you wished that you could just keep yourself normal for two minutes.

“The same way any normal transaction goes.” Eddie shrugged. “Except cash only, no returns, and for obvious reasons… no receipts.”

“I guess that means no demanding to speak to the manager then?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. To your surprise, Eddie gave a small laugh and seemed to relax just a bit.

“Demand all you want, he’ll tell you all sales are final.” He opened the box and pulled out a bag. “I got a half ounce here. $25. Should last you a while.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” You said, pulling out your wallet and pulling out some cash to hand over.

“Want to smell it first?” Eddie looked at you with a head tilt. Fuck, had you already blown it? Was that something you were supposed to do? You froze, and Eddie let out a snort. “You’ve never done this have you?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Not even once.” You admitted. There was no use in pretending otherwise. The only reason you had even set this meeting up was just an elaborate (and expensive) way to meet the only person in Hawkins you had any interest in talking to.

Ever since moving here, you weren’t a fan of the town or the people around you. You were sure that your new school would be the same and you had planned on fading into the background for the few months that you had to be here for your senior year. Who was going to want to make friends with the new girl during senior year in a small town? Cliques had been formed and no one would be wanting to add to their numbers this late in the game. Not when everyone else was going to be leaving after high school. 

But Eddie had captured your attention the very first day when he’d been running around his lunch table and laughing with his friends. 

“It’s not a normal thing, it’s a me thing.” Eddie tossed you the bag, not taking the money yet. “Give it a smell.”

You didn’t want to smell the bag. You really did not want to, but Eddie’s was looking at you, and his eyes were so big and round and he ASKED you to do something so…

Your face scrunched up involuntarily and you pulled your head back at the stench. “Ah. Yes. That is certainly weed. Glad to have that established.” you deadpanned. 

“It’s not oregano.” Eddie confirmed, looking amused at your reaction.

“The fuck you mean it’s not?” You laughed. “Here I was thinking that I was going to be buying the best Italian seasoning on the market and here I am with a bag of weed. I feel ripped off!”

Satisfied, Eddie took the money that you had left on the table and pocketed it. “Sorry, like I said, no refunds.”

You followed suit and stuffed the bag into another bag, which was then shoved into yet another bag that had your gym clothes. Can’t be too careful.

You assumed that Eddie would turn tail and leave but instead he picked up a lighter and a cigarette from his lunchbox.

“You sit at my table at lunch.” It wasn’t a question, but a truth. Eddie had noticed you sitting there. Then again, after the roach incident…

“It’s easier to sit in the same place every day.” You said as you nervously picked at the wood on the table. “You learn what to expect.”

“And what do you expect from our table?” Eddie took a drag and offered you the cigarette. You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head in a polite no. “A freakshow?”

“More bugs, but less people bugging me.” you shrugged. 

Eddie snorted. “We still give Jeff shit about that.”

“Yeah well, I’d still rather sit there than anywhere else.” You swallowed. “This may come as a surprise to you, Eddie, but people here kind of suck and aren’t the most friendly.”

“So, you’d rather be seen near the freaks than associating with any other group? That’s brave.” Eddie looked you over. “I’m surprised someone like you eats in the cafeteria. I’ve never seen you talk to anyone else. Most people find a classroom to eat in if they don’t have friends.” 

You stared blankly at him. “Gee. Thanks for the reminder.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as he realized what he just said. “Wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re not wrong.” you sighed, now wishing that you could have a drag of his cigarette. Maybe then you’d look interesting and mysterious instead of how you actually felt, which was awkward and annoyed. You knew you didn’t have friends here, but that didn’t mean he needed to point that out. 

By a technicality, the Freak was more popular than you, and now you had spent $25 in an attempt to be his friend and he might not even be interested. You were starting to regret this whole stupid plan.

“You know you…. if you wanted to. You don’t have to sit near us.” Eddie looked up, and saw you deflate instantly. Eddie sat up straighter “No, not like that, I mean. You could sit with us instead. We can make room, and I swear we won’t throw anymore bugs at you.”

Eddie took another drag of the cigarette, shifting so that the second hand smoke didn’t hit you in the face. It was appreciated.

“Really? I mean, are you sure? Would the others be alright with that…?” You asked, perking up more excitedly than you meant to.

“They learned to live with Mike and Dustin, they’ll learn to like you.” Eddie gave a grin. “Besides, Hellfire needs more members if they’re gonna beat my campaign.”

“The Cult of Vecna.” You said and Eddie narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. “Don’t give me that look, Eddie, you guys are loud. It’s not eavesdropping when you’re standing on the table with your shoes right next to my sandwich yelling about your game.”

“So you’ll join us then?” Eddie’s grin widened.

“How much for a shirt?” You shivered as the wind blew around you. “I… I might need help character creating as well. It’s been a while since I’ve played.”

Eddie slammed his hands on the table, laughing. “I knew it! I knew you were one of us. Gareth owes me $5.”

“You made a bet about this??”

“I’ve only known two other girls that play. Sinclair’s sister who’s still in middle school and Ronnie Ecker who graduated 2 years ago.” Eddie said. He was so energized now and his eyes were bright, the late afternoon sun reflecting warm caramel and gold back at you. “I saw you with that D&D book yesterday but they didn’t believe me.”

You looked at him, sighed and reached into your bag and pulled out the book that had given you away. You really had never meant to be seen with it, you’d just needed a refresher. You had played at your old school, but hadn’t had a chance to in about a year.

Eddie reached for the old module and flipped through the adventure. “Tomb of Horrors.” he said approvingly. “We played this one last year with a few tweaks, of course. What’s your level?”

“I… don’t really have much of one.” You admitted. “Back with my old group we would just make characters for whatever suited the campaign. I usually went with some flavor of half-elf bard or ranger though.”

“The others would call that cheating. Most everyone has played with the same character from level 1 for the past few years.” Eddie said. “You’d have to work to keep up with us.”

“So I’d have to start at level 1?” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Damn, you are a sadistic DM aren’t you?”

“I’m the mean and scary freak of Hawkins High,” Eddie took a final drag of his cigarette. “It’s my job.”

“You’ve been nicer to me than anyone here so far, Eddie.” You admitted

Eddie looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You swallowed, unable to look away and wondering if you had said something wrong.

“What?” You finally said.

“You’ve never bought drugs before.” Eddie said.

“….Yes. We established this.” You replied.

“Have you ever even smoked before?”

You frowned. “….Hm, no comment. I don’t think I want to answer that.”

“So that’s a no.” Eddie looked at the bag where you had stored your goods. “So why are you buying?”

You had two reasons for buying, the main reason was to give yourself a reason- any reason- to talk to him. There was a second reason though, one that you hadn’t wanted to get into but…

“I… haven’t been doing a great job of adjusting here.” You said picking at the grain of the wood of the table. “I won’t bore you with the details but… I’ve been having trouble sleeping and everything I eat just tastes like sawdust and I can’t get hungry. I was hoping this would help.”

“Do you know how to roll?”

You slumped slightly, looking down. “Eddie, I’ve never even smoked a cigarette.”

“You’re really coming in blind, huh?” there was a laughter in his voice though that made you feel less judged. “You live in Happy Forest Trailer Park. Yeah, I’ve seen you down the street circling your trailer late at night.”

“Ah. Lovely. Nice to know my night walks have been witnessed.” You groaned.

“Don’t worry, you’re still the least sketchy person there.” Eddie waived his hand. “I don’t normally do this, but you clearly need help. If you want, I’ll come over and roll for you and teach you how to smoke.”

“I feel like if you were anyone else I’d tell you to fuck off.” You said. “But, like I said, you’re the only person who’s been actively nice to me and I really can’t afford to say no. I’m… too damn tired.”

“Tonight?” Eddie offered. “We can help you put together a character.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest now. He wanted to come over to your house tonight? This plan was already going wildly off the rails but there was no stopping it.

“Okay.”

Eddie handed over his cigarette to you and you stared at it. “Just take a drag and show me where you’re at.”

You flinched, holding the cigarette in your fingers. You’d seen people smoke your whole life and the smell of it filled your memories with car rides, and heavy talks and… screaming.

“I can’t.” You said after a moment handing it back. “Sorry. I know it’s stupid. Weed is one thing but-”

“Hey, no need to explain.” Eddie said, snuffing it out. “I don’t know what just happened but don’t worry about it.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

Eddie looked at his watch. “I have to meet up with someone else. Go home, I’ll be there tonight.” He closed his lunchbox and stood up and you followed suit.

“I’ll be home all night.” You said. “Thank you, by the way. For all of this. I hope it helps.”

Eddie chuckled. “Not many people stick around and talk to me after, let alone thank me. They usually take what they bought and run.”

“Sit with us on Monday.” Eddie said. “I’ll come over tonight.” He was sparing you from saying what you wanted to say; that you wanted so badly to be friends with them.

“I wanted to talk to you.” You admitted, and Eddie looked surprised. “I mean, I don’t have anyone here in Hawkins. Like anyone. And, I don’t know, I like hearing you and your friends talk at lunch and you all seem to actually like each other so… I…”

“Tonight.” You nodded.

The two of you parted ways, Eddie taking a separate way out of the woods while you headed towards the parking lot.

Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Hello! May I please request #5 “Flowers” from the prompt list? Thank you! :D

Ayyyyyyy one of my fave prompts from the list! Glad you requested it!!

Summary: You give Astarion a personally handmade flower crown

Each flower has its own unique meaning, though some meanings have been lost to time. Your mother’s voice teaching you the meaning of some flowers has long faded from your memory, a loss you mourn as you scour the markets for books on flowers and their meanings.

You know Astarion isn’t one for receiving flowers, but its not the flower you want him to hold dear to his heart, no, it’s the meaning of the flower that you want to imprint into his mind for all eternity.

By a stroke of luck, you find a book detailing the meaning and uses of certain flowers in Faerun hidden away in the corners of a merchant’s store. A quick purchase later and its now permanently in your hands, ready for perusing.

Astarion raises an eyebrow when he sees you sitting in your tent, engrossed in a book instead of sitting with the others around the campfire, unwinding after a long day of adventuring. The others don’t seem to mind the missing company, but this is most unusual behaviour from you so Astarion takes it upon himself to investigate this change.

“Hello darling, not in the mood for mingling tonight?” He smiles, closing the distance between the two of you. You shift over wordlessly, making space for him and he happily sits down, taking a look at the book you’re reading.

“I had no idea you were into flowers, I thought you were more into…clothes.”

“You thought wrong, then.” His favourite smile of yours graces your lips as amusement flashes across your face. “If however it were a book about clothes…I could be persuaded to be into clothes.”

Astarion can’t help but laugh at your attempt at a sly look and leans in to press a quick peck to your lips. “Leave that kind of talk to me, darling. You’re positively terrible at it.”

“At least I’m not negatively terrible at it.” You shoot back.

Astarion rolls his eyes, half immune to your type of jokes at this point and swipes the book from your lap, curious. You’re left hugging him from behind as he holds the book out of your reach, reading the page you’re on.

“Aren’t night orchids our resident cleric’s favourite flower?”

“Yes, they are.” You rest your chin on his shoulder, still clinging onto him.

“Night orchids are known to symbolise rarity, uniqueness, beauty and spirituality. Who knew her favourite flower represented her so well?” He remarks.

“They also represent someone else very well.” You mumble into his back sheepishly. Astarion hums in response, closing the book after placing a bookmark in it for you and turns to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Yes, Star?” You ask.

Astarion buries his face into your hair, letting out a soft breath that ruffles the strands on the top of your head, causing you to smile softly and reach upwards to run your fingers through his hair. A quiet purr rumbles in his throat as he leans into your touch, enjoying the attention you’re lavishing upon him instead of the book. You indulge him, knowing nights like this where you’re not needed by anyone else are few and far between. Astarion curls his fingers around yours, enjoying the way your hand neatly slots into his as if they were made for each other. Maybe they were, maybe you were always meant for him and vice versa. He quite likes that thought.

You play with a few strands of his silver hair, twirling them around a finger. “A flower wreath would look really nice on you.”

“Would it now?” Astarion would really rather you remain here until dawn breaks instead of going out to pick flowers, even if they are for him.

“It would. You will look really pretty with one sitting on your head like a crown.” You draw a ghostly circle around his head, mirroring where the flower wreath would sit before clapping your hands together. “That settles it! I’ll make you one!”

Astarion quickly moves to grab your arm, eyes wide as his mouth moves to convince you to stay, to not leave him yet. He’s ready to beg you to remain by his side for what remains of the night, afraid that someone might steal you away from him but you haven’t moved an inch from your spot.

“I still don’t know what flower to use,” you chuckle. “Guess I’ll have to stay here for the rest of the night, hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not, darling.” He swallows, shoving his embarrassment to the back of his mind. You lean against his chest, book tossed aside in favour of your lover and inhale his scent, blissfully snuggling against him. He holds you close, tracing patterns on your exposed skin until you fall asleep and he tucks you into your bedroll, pressing a kiss to your forehead and sneaks out of your tent, but not before wishing you a quiet goodnight that you’re far too deep in sleep to hear.

The matter of the flower crown gets pushed to the back of your mind and out of Astarion’s head in favour of more pressing matters as your party journeys on until you stumble upon the cave Shadowheart once lived in deep in the underground Sharran temple.

While the others search the cave for loot or lost childhood memories, a certain plant catches your eye — night orchids. You go about picking them, counting how many you would need for a flower crown that would fit Astarion’s head and are relieved to find there are sufficient night orchids in the cave for your endeavour. Stashing them safely in your pouch, you turn to gather the others and head off to the Sharran dorms for some much needed rest whilst letting Shadowheart take back as much of her lost memories as possible. She deserved that, at least, for all she’d been through.

You claim the bed closest to the back corner of the room and begin work, praying that you remember how to make a flower crown and fortunately, muscle memory saves the day as your fingers weave flower after flower into a circular shape. It’s not the best looking flower crown you’ve ever made, being out of practice, but it’s certainly passable. You turn the delicate object in your hands, checking it over before glancing upwards. Astarion was arguing with Wyll about the bottle of wine he definitely stole despite his claims of innocence and the others were enjoying the show, save for Gale who was cooking tonight’s dinner.

Slipping out of your bed, you sneak over to Astarion’s bed to deliver the goods before walking up to the group as if nothing happened, breaking up the fight that was escalating with the announcement of food.

When Astarion throws back the covers to lie down, he finds a flower crown sitting atop a book he remembers seeing you read before and stares at them, resisting the urge to throw the covers up again to remove the illusion. Surely he was hallucinating or something, no one would deign to personally handcraft something so beautiful and delicate just for him. Or maybe the giver had placed them on the wrong bed, any of the others maybe except for Lae’zel would appreciate such a gift.

“Do you like it?” Your voice sounds behind him. He turns around, nearly dropping the blanket on the flower crown.

“It’s for me?” He asks, confused.

“Yeah. It’s on your bed, is it not? Did I make a mistake?” You frown.

“No, you placed it on my bed.” Had you made the flower crown for him? Why did you spend such precious time and effort on him? The thing of beauty was wasted on someone like him, it would have been better off in the hands of anyone else, even Karlach despite her probably reducing it to cinders before it could properly rest on her head.

“That’s a relief. I thought I had the wrong bed for a moment,” you smile. “Well, goodnight then, Astarion.”

Before he can say anything, you’ve headed off to your bed, leaving him alone with his swirling thoughts. He gingerly picks the crown up, checking to see if anyone is paying him any mind before slipping out of the dorm and putting it on when he deems it safe enough to do so. His gaze falls upon a nearby mirror and sadness clouds his eyes when he realises he won’t be able to see how he looks like with the flower crown. His reflection will forever evade him, not even the tadpole could keep it from running away.

“You really do look pretty wearing it.”

“Why, thank you, darling.” Astarion smiles, taking a little bow. The action causes the flower crown to slip and when he straightens, it’s lopsided.

“Concentrate on the tadpole. I want to show you how you look with the flower crown on.”

Astarion blinks.

“Oh come on, don’t look at me like that. I hadn’t thought about using our tadpoles like this before until Gale pointed it out,” you huff. “I bet you haven’t thought about it either.”

“I —”

“Concentrate already.”

“As you wish, dearest.”

Astarion closes his eyes, concentrating on his tadpole’s connection with yours and when he opens his eyes, a pale silver haired elf stands before him, ruby red eyes piercing into his very soul. He really is pretty with the flower crown on, like you said. The dark blue colour of the night orchids stands in stark contrast against the silver of his hair, creating a halo of blue around his head.

When he next opens his eyes, he’s back in his own body, tears threatening to spill over.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper, throat clogging up.

“You’re welcome,” you smile softly, reaching over to cup his cheeks. He closes the gap without hesitation, lips meeting yours in a dance of bliss and affection. The night lasts longer than usual, or maybe it was longer than a night but neither of you can tell from underground.

When Astarion heads back to his bed, he remembers the book that is still lying underneath its sheets — a book about flowers and their various meanings with a rather familiar bookmark sticking out of it. He flips to the marked page and the section is titled ‘Night Orchids’. At the end of the passage letters come together, forming a sentence that causes tears to cascade down his face.

Gift this sweet bloom to someone you believe is beautiful in their unique and special way.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion #bg3 fluff #bg3 fic

[rogersideup]

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 10

Star Crossed Lover

Series Masterlist

Previous Part: True Romantic Next Part: Promotion

Word Count: 10,607 (I am SO sorry lol)

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of violence, blood, and injury. Allusions and discussion of suicide attempts. Please proceed with caution and and good judgment for your own personal mental health 💞

The drive to your team welcoming at the winery made 45 minutes of highway feel simultaneously far too long yet excruciatingly short.

After what happened in the corridor, you really didn't have much to say. The only words really spoken between you and Steve was you thanking him for getting the car door for you, then him insisting that you played your music.

After a few minutes on the road, Steve stole a few quick glances at you to try and gauge how you were really feeling, but your head was leaned all the way back against the headrest, and your eyes were always either closed or staring absentmindedly on the scenery around you.

He took no offense, in fact, he was glad that you were calm at the very least. Deep down he knew you were always feeling at least a little worse- if not a lot worse than you expressed to anyone. But like always, there was a time and place to address issues. Pulling into a parking spot at the winery and putting his car into park was not the time, nor the place.

Taking a quick peek through his rearview mirror, he could see a few special guests had already arrived, and he could only hope it would help ease the distress you never deserved to have inflicted on you.

Steve turned to you with an empathetic grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Last chance to run away?"

You turned your head to look at him with a lazy smile, and an unexpected giggle. "I can't run in these shoes."

"If it gets too overwhelming, you know I'll be here. Just tell me, I'll sneak you away for a bit of fresh air." He reminded you.

"You're making me feel like I'm about to be eaten alive" You raised your eyebrow.

Steve shook his head. "No, you're not. I've been on this team for so many years I stopped counting and even I still get overwhelmed by all of them sometimes. Things like this can be a lot even on a perfectly good day."

"I'm guessing I'll relax after a glass of wine or two" You reassured him and yourself. "It'll be like nothing ever happened, nobody even has to know."

That sent red flags raising high in Steve's head. Now he knew for sure you were in worse shape than you were letting on.

"Bug," Steve shot you a serious glare. "You can be sad, it's okay to be sad."

"I'll be sad later." You surrendered. "Right now I'm so happy and honored to be part of such a welcoming and supportive team. We're all going to have a wonderful night, and everything is going to be fine."

"Promise me right now that after this is over you'll cut the bullshit and stop telling me you're fine." Steve held out his pinky to you. All you did was narrow your eyes at him, you knew he could read you like a book far below his intelligence level, and it was equal parts endearing and frustrating. "We both know that's a lie, and we both know there's no reason for you to have to go through any of this alone anymore. We both know this is the beginning of the end of all of your suffering, and should it get worse before it gets better, you have a whole team of people who want to help you and be there for you."

"Fine." With an internal defeat, you wrapped your pinky around his. "I'll be sad later, but only if you get me a glass of wine while I socialize so I don't seem like a bitch for booking it to the bar."

"Great" Steve smiled, shaking your intertwined pinky fingers, locking in the deal. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"This is the worst deal ever." You shook your head with a smile on your face while reaching for the car door handle.

An immediate gasp full of personal offense left Steve faster than you anticipated, and you got ready for the fight you two had nearly every time you got into a car together. "Do not reach for that car door ma'am."

"Twinkles, I have two fully functioning arms and legs. I can open my own car door." You made the same argument you've made a million times before.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." Steve shook his head at you, his face full of disappointment. "Stay right there before I put the child safety lock on the passenger side of the door."

"Logistically, it'll take more time for you to get out, walk around, open my door, wait for me to get out, then close my door than if I were to just get out on my own." You laughed.

“Yeah well, logistically, this reoccurring argument takes a lot of time as well yet you always seem to want to spark it." Steve spoke as he got out of the car, his door closing behind him. Very quickly making his way to you, he opened your door and offered you his arm to help you out. "See, didn't take that long. Look, this is an unpaved parking lot and you're wearing a pretty high heel which means you could've tripped and fallen and broken an ankle, and it would've been all my fault."

"How could you possibly sleep at night?!" You agreed sarcastically as you got out of the car, and he closed the door behind you.

"I never do." Steve noted. "This is why I have insomnia."

"Too many women and too many unpaved parking lots in this world." You agreed, walking with him towards the entrance. "We really need to contact someone about this."

It didn't take long to enter the beautiful outdoor space that was far too big to be reserved just for the team. You immediately felt like you were the main character of a hallmark movie, strings of twinkling lights shined above your head, the grounds were well maintained, full of plants, tables, and even a dreamy gazebo that was also illuminated by strings of lights.

There were candles lit along pathways and atop the standing tables, booths open that served food, and no less than 20 different wine options, and a whole bunch of friendly faces that all started clapping and cheering when you walked in.

Definitely not expecting that much immediate   attention, your cheeks widened into a smile and deepened in color before your hands moved up to hide your face. It only took a few moments before you were brave enough to peak through your fingers to recognize faces you didn't quite expect to be there.

All you expected were the avengers that lived in the compound or near by, but to see faces like Thor, Clint, and even that Spider-Kid who definitely was not 21 and was out passed his bedtime was a pleasant surprise.

Another pleasant surprise was the sweet faces of your mom and dad, sister and brother in law, and a handful of your friends from back home.

Your hands dropped from your face and showed off your full toothy smile and pink cheeks that Steve loved so much it made his heart skip a beat.

It nearly dropped out of his chest and deep into his stomach when you turned to him. "Did you invite them?"

"Of course I did" Steve nodded with a cheeky smile. "I wanted you to feel more comfortable, and you deserve to be celebrated by your family too, not just ours."

Much like earlier in the day when he gave you the suit, your arms flew around him fast and tight. It was shorter this time due to the audience, but Steve still loved it nonetheless. "Thank you so much, you're so sweet."

"You're very welcome" Steve smiled. "I'll go get us some wine like I promised, but I do feel like I need to say hello to your family first considering I've been texting them to arrange this. But I'll be quick!"

"I have so many questions" You raised your eyebrow at him.

"Save them for later!" Steve told you while walking straight towards your parents.

With full trust that nothing chaotic would happen in that interaction, you scanned faces once more and realized Bucky and Nat were missing. You knew why, but it made your happy mood deflate again until Thor was the first of the bunch to walk up and introduce himself.

You made your way through Bruce, Carol, and even said hi to Maria Hill regardless of the fact that you worked with her many times before.

Steve did make it to you with a glass of wine in each of his hands between your interactions with people. "Here you go, Bugs. Not quite sure what this wine is but I told the nice girl at the bar you liked white wine so she poured you her favorite."

"You're the best." Your cheers your glass against his.

"Ugh, I know right?" He agreed sarcastically, drinking down a grin with a sip of red.

Your quick interaction with Steve made your family approach you to celebrate, but he definitely wanted you to have your time alone with them so he slipped away just as fast as he came.

Lots of hugs, lots of chatting, then lots of them pushing you away to go hang out with the Avengers.

Somewhere between Peter Parker and more time with Sam, a quick scan of the crowd had you realizing that now the Avengers were co-mingling with your family and friends. Oh, and Bucky and Natasha finally got there 45 minutes into the actual event.

Lost in conversation with Scott Lang about the most recent episode of that one sitcom he so happened to bring up, a pair of forearms wrapped around you from behind.

You pretty much expected it to be anybody but Natasha, but you were pleasantly surprised that she was already so comfortable with you. "Sorry we're late, but Rogers' mess is cleaned up and you'll never see it again. Also, you look hot in that dress."

There was no chance to thank her or apologize for the mess as she quickly galavanted off into the crowd.

Scott was pulled away from you about 10 minutes later, and your glass became empty of wine. Feeling mildly confident at this point that you had at least introduced yourself and greeted everyone there, you felt comfortable enough to go get a refill on your own.

Another heavy pour and you were back out. Conversation flowed a lot easier than expected between the groups you found yourself in. There was always something to talk about, laughter was a common occurrence, but somehow the mess in the corridor kept seeping into your mind no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

Eventually Bucky found his way to you, and somehow the comfort of one of your best friends helped quiet down all of the unnecessary noise in your brain.

In true Bucky fashion, he approached with plenty of food in hand. Setting a full wood fire pizza on the table, he pushed the whole tray towards you.

"You haven't been eating enough for someone at an event with free food" He noted.

"Hello to you too" You grinned, taking down another big gulp of wine.

"Steve told me you were worried about me." Bucky's face softened.

"I'm always worried about you, that's what friends are for." You agreed with Steve's statement.

"You know what that agent said about me tonight is nothing but water off a ducks back." He reassured you. "But what he said about you is what bothered me. That is what I take personally, and that's what I can't let anyone get away with."

You sighed. "What did you do, Buck?"

"Nat fired him, we both got him on some gnarly lists to ensure he's going to have a hard time finding another job." He explained. "I think Steve did enough damage that the dumbass will probably never reproduce, which is probably a blessing to the next generation. We didn't help him up though, he can figure that out himself."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"If it was up to me. I wouldn't have left it at just his balls, but I digress" Bucky shrugged. "I'm really happy you're back, Buggy. I've been smiling all day knowing you're here."

"Well for what's it's worth, I'm sorry people have been saying rude things about you because of me, and I'm happy to be here to hopefully get back on the right foot. I missed you and Steve a lot these past couple of months."

"It's not your fault, so I'm not accepting that apology." Bucky denied. "But I will accept a hug because I missed you too."

"Tough crowd." You grinned before wrapping your arms around him and leaving them there for a while.

Then, he started whispering in your ear. "This was a trap I just wanted to gossip in peace"

You let out an uncontrollable laugh, starting to feel the effects the wine had on you. "What's up? What's the gossip?" You tried to whisper back but it was a little hard to get the words quietly past your smile.

"Has Steve kissed you yet?" Bucky asked in a dramatic whisper.

“No, I don't think he ever will." You denied. "But I just got back last night, give him some grace."

"I don't think he will either. He's really scared of you." He agreed with you. "Do you need me to yell at him for that? Or I can just kind've shove your faces together when I find the opportunity?"

He pulled another laugh from you. "No, it's okay. He's scared, he needs to go at his own pace."

"Have you admitted to yourself that you like him yet?"

"Unfortunately you knew that before I did, but yes, and I told him that too."

"Good, good." Bucky started to pull away from the hug, but your wrapped your arms tighter around him.

"Tell me about you and Nat now" You trapped him.

"Well I'm not a scaredy cat like Steve is so... Girlfriend."

You gasped with a smile and pulled back to observe his face. But it was obvious he wasn't lying to you, so you lit up once more. "I'm so happy for you!"

Raising your hand up for a high five, Bucky hit his metal palm against your hand.

From across the winery and under the gazebo, Steve watched this whole interaction between you and Bucky. He was pleasantly surprised when jealousy never rushed through his veins watching the two of you hug.

Thats when Steve realized how secure he felt with you now. He understood now more than ever that you and Bucky were purely platonic, and it was evident in the way you two looked at and touched each other. In fact, he even felt a sense of warmth and happiness watching you two have a secretive conversation that wasn't so slick. Maybe it would've been a little more discreet had you been a bit more sober, but he found it endearing nonetheless. He found himself feeling hopeful that soon enough the three of you really could smooth over the damage and go back to hanging out together, a notion that once felt impossible.

He was even happier when he saw the both of you take a slice of pizza, cheers, then eat together.

After that, he stopped watching. He was so content knowing that Bucky was keeping an eye on you. Maybe that's where he overestimated his false sense of security, because along with the pizza, Bucky brought you another glass of wine which only meant you were feeling sillier and more socially confident by the second.

At some point Steve fell deep into conversation with your dad, they were getting along so well, in fact, he hadn't even noticed that he spent about a whole hour and a half alone under the fairy light illuminated gazebo with him. They also didn't notice that you were getting along with the team so well it's like you were always part of the little family to begin with.

He didn't catch you and your sister flipping each other off from across the venue as often as you could, he didn't see the way you and Peter made a secret handshake, or even when you exchanged phone numbers with Bruce. He missed Sam making you laugh so hard you nearly peed your pants, then you, Nat, and Wanda disappearing to the bathroom for a solid ten minutes then coming back with your lipstick magically perfect again.

He also missed your fourth glass of wine.

But that was pretty obvious when you walked out of the bathroom and into the social event, scanning the intimate crowd to try and spot anyone to engage in conversation.

Thats when you noticed your mom batting her eyelashes and giggling in a one on one conversation with Tony, while your dad was batting his eyelashes and giggling under the gazebo with Steve.

A bit wobbly on your feet, you walked over to them and held onto the wooden entrance as you stepped up. Both of their attention was drawn to you from their spot on a bench.

You squinted your eyes at your dad. "Hello, Father."

"Daughter" He raised an eyebrow at you.

Steve didn't know where this interaction was about to go, so he observed carefully. 

"Steve, is this strange man bothering you?" You asked him.

Steve laughed as your dad reached over to you and flicked the side of your head, you remained unfazed. "Not in the slightest."

"She's drunk" Your dad told Steve while covering your ears.

"I'm not drunk, I'm silly and perhaps a bit goofy, but I am not drunk." You grabbed your dad's wrists and pulled his hands off your ears. "My sobriety should be the least of your concerns at the moment."

"Why is that?" Your dad asked.

"Tony Stark is flirting with your wife." You pointed to your mom and Tony.

Steve followed your pointed finger and saw that you were actually right, and that made him laugh. "That's really concerning."

Your dad sighed. "So what? I have to fight Iron Man now? You chose to be a superhero and now I have to fight Iron Man for your own Mother?"

"Get used to it." You stuck your tongue out at him.

He stuck his tongue out right back at you before turning to Steve. "Please excuse me, I need to rescue my wife."

"By all means" Steve agreed.

When your dad walked off and you were alone with Steve, you sat down right next to him and pulled his arm around your shoulders before you closed your eyes and rested your head on him.

You didn't see his smile as he pulled you as close as he could and rubbed the top of your arm. "How are you doing?"

"Cold, tired, feet hurt." You mumbled. "Drunk"

"I thought you said you weren't drunk?" Steve quipped happily.

“Well, you're not my dad so you get to know the truth." You snuggled into him. "More truth, you smell really nice, and I just need to sit here for a little while."

A giggle escaped Steve from your confessions. "Are you having fun?"

"More fun than I thought" You nodded. "I'm so warm and fuzzy inside. It's been so long since I've felt happy like this."

That wiped the smile clean off of Steve's face. "I'm so happy that you're happy. It'll keep getting better, I'll make sure of it."

"I wish it could just be like this all the time." The feelings you never talk about spilling out of your mouth. "Life could be so good, and I really love it sometimes. I just don't know how to not take what other people do to me personally. You and Bucky are so good at that."

"You're good at everything you do, and life is about to get so much better for you, sweet girl. I promise."

"I'm trying really hard to believe you." You smiled. "I probably sound sad, but I'm happy right now. 'M always happy when I'm with you."

"You can stay with me however long you want, I'm happy with you too." He squeezed your shoulder.

"How did you guys plan such an elaborate event when nobody even knew if I would agree to be an avenger or if I would even be back at the compound today?" You asked.

"We used magic and our intuition" He said with a smile.

"You are so magical" Your alcohol influenced mind marveled. "And who in my family have you been communicating with because that's so magical"

"Your sister and your mom" Steve giggled at your question. "Your family is very nice and really fun to be around."

"Did my dad tell you embarrassing stories about me?"

"Surprisingly, no he didn't."

"Good, good. Let's keep it that way."

Closing your eyes, you let the wine and Steve's body heat relax all your muscles and wash the tension away. Unsure of how long you had actually been there, there was a point in which you could feel Steve shift to look at an approaching person.

An uncontrollable laugh escaped your intoxicated mind as whoever Steve was looking at sat on the other side of you and snuggled into your body the same way you were snuggled up to Steve, but for some reason you still didn't want to open your eyes.

"Wow, this is lovely" The voice said. It sounded like Sam, but you couldn't be too sure.

"Hey, I want in on this too" Sounded loudly from far away. Footsteps came running, and Maria plopped onto Sam's lap sideways. She kicked her legs over your and Steve's laps.

Slowly but surely, more Avengers, family and friends ended up under the gazebo with you and Steve. The cuddle pile grew with Scott and Nat, and lasted longer than it probably should've.

You were fed enough food by pretty much everyone while you all drunkenly told stories and laughed so hard that your stomach hurt that you eventually sobered up.

Once you were sober again, you realized just how fast time had flown by and were sad to hug your parents goodbye. You're pretty sure your mom hugged and your dad fist-bumped nearly every single person at the event, but that was neither here nor there.

Eventually everyone said goodbye, and by the time you got back into Steve's car it was already almost midnight. And by the time you got home and into Steve's bed, all of your energy was more than depleted. Social battery was in the negative, but you felt like you had been plugged into a high speed charger when he got under the covers next to you.

"How are you feeling?" That seemed to be everyone's favorite question to ask you.

"I kind've feel like you right now" With your eyes closed, your laid on your back with one arm above your head and the other resting over your hoodie on top of your belly.

Steve giggled "what is that supposed to mean?"

"I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I ate too much, drank too much wine. I'm bloated but happy so it's a small price to pay." You explained.

"Well if you're going to throw up, aim in that direction" Steve smiled and pointed in the opposite direction of himself. "Are you still drunk? Do you need some water?"

"No I'm not, I'm okay" Your smile barely ghosted your lips. "Just need some sleep."

Steve reached over and pulled some blankets over your frame before poking your cheek. "Remember what you promised me earlier?"

Your eyes opened to look at him. "I feel better, really. I do."

Steve sighed. "You don't even want to talk about it?"

"What is there to say?" You questioned. "All the same shit, different day. There's nothing I can do about that anymore."

"When this all first started, you were getting sent to my office nearly every day for fighting back, but tonight you kind've froze up. Why?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone to do that to me when I was with you." You answered. "But it's done now, it's fine."

"We both know it's not done" Steve's face softened. "And avoiding it doesn't make it go away."

"Would you like me to rewind time and kick him in the balls instead?"

"No, I just want you to know you can talk to me." Steve emphasized.

"I'm pissed off." You admitted. "I'm always in a state of being angry that this is the environment that I have to learn to thrive in every day, but I've also reached a state of emotional exhaustion that makes me feel like I have no room left to be even more angry than I already am. I've hit max capacity, so I'm choosing to stay as calm as I can because out of all the kicks and punches I've thrown, none of them have worked before. I have no reason to believe it'll work now."

“It's not fair." Steve huffed like kid.

"It never has been." You agreed with a shrug. "But you don't need to hold onto that anger for me. I'm trying to let go of it and move on."

"I'll let go of my anger in the form of making change." Steve told you, now feeling brave enough to pull you close to him.

You snuggled up close, your head on his bicep and your arm holding him gently. "I'm an avenger now. That's all the change I know how to make at the moment."

"I'm so proud of you" he practically whispered. "But I've never met anyone like you before."

"You really need to work on providing context before sentences that might hurt my feelings"

Steve chuckled at your bluntness. "You're telling me that you're happy, but you're also telling me that you're sad. Both of those statements feel genuine, so I don't really know where your mind is."

"Well then imagine how complex and confusing it is to be me" You emphasized. "Never in my whole life have I felt more alone while also feeling more loved than ever. I'm happy and sad, I just accomplished something most people never will by becoming an avenger yet I've also never felt more like a loser. This is the first time I've ever been relentlessly bullied but it's also the first time I've ever been a superhero so I guess the juxtaposition of my emotions is just turning my brain into scrambled eggs."

"Have you tried compartmentalization?" Steve offered with a grain of salt.

"I tried that once, I think I created too many emotional categories and got overwhelmed." You smiled. "But I'm a Gemini, so these complexities have been written in the stars for me since the moment I was brought onto the earth. I think I was born for the very purpose of the universe testing to see if overwhelming contradictory emotions could physically kill a human being."

"One of my greater purposes in life is to protect people against the things that could kill them, so you're in good hands right now." Steve slowly rubbed your back. "Overwhelm will not be your cause of death. Actually, nothing will be. I'm trying to convince Banner to make clones of us to be kept in cryofreeze that way when we die of old age, new versions of us can just be thawed out so we can be best friends forever."

"Spoken like a true cancer" You laughed, patting his chest. "Did I uphold my end of the promise?"

"We can call it even, but I'll always be concerned"

"Even Stevens!" You sleepily enthused.

"Are you rhyming or was that a reference to something?" You could hear his amusement.

"Both, you're a little too old to understand that one."

"That's really rude" Steve faked offense.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue, Twinkles. I know you think you didn't do much, but it means a lot to me when I know I have someone on my team."

"I'll always be on your team, you've always been worth the fight." Steve reminded you.

Those words comforted you enough to ignore your very full stomach and fall into a deep sleep in the hold of your favorite soldier's big protective arms. Unfortunately the universe loved to hate you, because you only got your share of the superhero until about 4am when his phone started ringing effectively waking both of you up.

A few curse words slipped out of his mouth in complaint before he reached for his phone and answered it. You didn't pay much attention to the phone call itself, but you did find it within your lack of  consciousness to move nearly your entire body onto his in attempt to keep him forever. Snuggling into him belly to belly, his hand found the back of your head and played with your hair as you slipped in and out of sleep.

By the time the phone call ended, you had effectively caged him between the mattress and your body. Realizing what you had done, Steve's cheeks burned as he let out a sigh.

"You can't go." You sleepily mumbled.

"You and I both know I don't really have any say in that." Steve reminded you apologetically.

"Says who? We all have free will."

"Unfortunately, the president of the United States. Apparently he requested to meet me for an urgent conversation about something that's happening somewhere." Steve explained.

"Damnit." You yawned. "I think the president has me beat in importance."

"I think the two of you are pretty equal in importance." Steve pondered. "The only difference is that people might die if I don't get out of bed."

"My soul will die if you get up, but it's fine, I understand." You joked dramatically.

"You're making it very hard for me" Steve complained, wrapping his arms around your back and squeezing you gently.

"If you're hard that's all the more reason to stay in bed." You joked, knowing damn well Steve wouldn't take a naughty joke like that very well.

And you were right, because the gasp that left his mouth was immediate and visceral. You didn't need to look at his face to know his cheeks were flushed pink and red hot. Your laugh was also pretty immediate and visceral as he used his body to flip you over onto the bed and propped himself up on his arm to lean over you. Pointing a finger at you like a dog, he had one word to say. "Bad!"

You laughed even harder as he shook his head at you. "I'm going to get up and get ready to meet the president, you stay here and think about what you just said."

Laying in bed alone, Steve eventually came to say goodbye to you. It was always sad to let each other go, but also an often occurrence. But this time he was hesitant to leave, of course you both knew why. Last night wouldn't be a one time event, but he encouraged you to stay close to Bucky, Nat and Sam as often as you could, and emphasized that there would be no timeline to his departure so he didn't know when he would be back. He also made it clear that should you need to defend yourself, you should do so with no hesitation.

Luckily, all was pretty smooth for a while. Your friendship with Nat bloomed faster than you'd ever expect it would, so for the first week Steve was gone the two of you were practically attached at the hip. Nat and Bucky spent a whole day helping you move from your old apartment up into the Avengers sector. Though it felt a bit pointless moving within the same building, the team felt better about keeping a protective eye on you when you weren't floors away from them. It was a nice change of pace to have a sense of community around you again.

The second week that Steve was gone, you tried to focus on building individual friendships with the team members outside of your little social circle. Your therapist also encouraged you to try and be brave enough to walk through the compound with a confident attitude so nobody would fuck with you, so you tried a few times on your own, a few times were nothing more than anxiety inducing, and a few times got you confronted with hostility which lead to 3 more agents getting fired by Natasha.

By the third week you finally got a phone call from Steve. It was nice to hear his voice and catch up and hear about what he had been up to for all this time, and it was especially nice to hear that he was wrapping up his work and he would be home soon. That same day you got to visit Jane and Luca over lunch at one of your favorite restaurants, then they helped you pick out a few new things for your new apartment.

Most kids acted as if a home store was cruel and unusual, but Luca was very opinionated about rugs and throw pillows. He even convinced you to get a new pair of sneakers at the clothing store he wanted to go to across the street from the compound.

Lots of therapy, lots of solo workouts, lots of team building, you were starting to feel mentally and physically stronger.

Strong enough to keep walking alone, and pushing forward no matter how hard it was.

When Steve landed on the runway after 3 whole weeks and a handful of days of being gone, he was so relieved to be back home. Without even making it off the jet he was already fantasizing about shaving the beard he unintentionally grew after forgetting his razor at home, a long shower and a long nap since it was only early in the afternoon and definitely not bedtime yet.

His fantasies continued as he stepped off the jet and into the building. Now he knew he wanted to see you before he knocked out for that nap he desperately needed. There would be some snacks at some point, and definitely no pants after the got out of the shower.

The sound of his boots on the sleek floor actually brought him joy knowing each step was one closer to you.

Like most fantasies, what he hoped and dreamed of was far from reality. Especially when a loud alarm sounded in the sector of the compound he was headed towards.

Stopping in his tracks and cringing at the sound, he waited for the code and location to be called out before springing into action. It could've been as simple as a knocked over vial in the lab, or complex as an invasion of an enemy. But when the code called out for aggressive physical conflict in the gym, Steve's heart sank and he started running as fast as he could.

He didn't want to believe it was you, but he couldn't be naive either. His racing heart and even faster legs carried him there faster than anyone else could. As he entered the doorway into the compound gym, he could hear the footsteps of a few sets of feet trailing behind him, but waiting for others arrival wouldn't slow him down.

Especially not when he entered the gym and it was completely empty besides two people, his heart sank even further when he recognized it was you, and the number on the back of the uniform of the other person was 212. Harvey.

No less than a billion racing thoughts came sped through Steve's mind, and none of the billion came together to form any good ideas. He swore all he saw was a blinding white and all he heard was his own heart beat in his ears as he sprinted through the equipment to get to where the altercation was happening.

The two of you looked like a cartoon before he went into fully protective mode. As he weaved through punching bags and stair climbers, he couldn't pick out where your body started and Harvey's ended. There might as well have been a big dust cloud around you, with puffs of air pluming out.

The consequences of putting himself in the middle of a fight wasn't even a thought in Steve's mind as he jumped over a treadmill and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and tried to pull you backwards, far away from Harvey.

Unfortunately, you were a little too preoccupied trying to save your own life to notice the alarm was sounding or that anyone was coming to save you, let alone Steve who you didn't even know was home yet. Assuming it was another attacker, one of Harvey's buddies helping him take you down, you forcefully thrashed and kicked yourself out of the Steve's grip. Adrenaline clouded your judgement, flight was nowhere to be seen as fight took over your every thought, you turned around and swung your fist right at him to earn yourself more time to knock Harvey down. You know you made pretty harsh contact considering there was a shooting pain buzzing through your knuckles, but at this point there was pain jolting through nearly every part of your body, so this wasn't going to slow you down.

Still not realizing what you had done, you watched Natasha sprint into the room and full body tackle Harvey to the ground, followed by a few other commanding officers, Sam, and Bucky. Trusting their ability to deal with Harvey and not let him touch you again, you turned back around to deal with whoever else was.

Fist balled, ready for a second swing, you looked up at the targets face, and devastation immediately took over the whole of your emotions. Steve blocked your punch and caught your wrist mid swing.

"Hey hey hey, it's me. It's just me" Steve frantically tried to get you to stop.

"Oh my god" You whispered to yourself as you realized you punched Steve right on his cheekbone, hard enough a bruise was already forming.

He watched you come to the realization of what you had done, your wrist was shaking in his hand, even more so as he loosened his grip and gently placed your arm down to your side.

You looked battered and bruised, but when he looked back at Harvey, it was clear that you had won this fight.

Looking at your wide eyes, he could tell you were in shock, and coming down from the copious amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins. He knew all too well what that felt like. Guilt, shame, the full effects of pain from the injuries sustained, the tremors and how weak your knees and thighs would get. He's been in your position far too many times before, he knew it was the worst feeling in the world.

Especially when your cheek was oozing blood, your arms were scraped up and bruised. Steve could tell the fight started with an unfair advantage.

Then, tears started pooling in your eyes as you looked at Steve's face and you opened your mouth but no words would come out.

"It's okay." Steve told you, very slowly reaching out to put his hands on your shoulders trying to snap your brain out of fight mode. "You're okay."

A tear fell down your cheek and your eyebrows furrowed before you muttered a quiet. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't know" Steve shook his head. "You were just trying to protect yourself. You're okay, buggy."

You looked over your shoulder and saw Harvey on the ground. His face was a lot bloodier than yours. With eyes swollen shut and his nose definitely not in its usual form, you felt like a monster.

A sob escaped your throat, and your shaky hand flew up to cover your mouth before your eyes squeezed shut. "What did I do?"

"Everything is going to be fine." Steve reminded you, pulling your attention back to him.

His bruised face only made your sobs escape faster and your heart pound even faster. "I'm so sorry, Steve, I-I didn't mean to. I didn't know it was you."

"I know you didn't, you didn't even know I was home." Steve reasoned with you. "It's okay, just take some deep breaths for me."

You shook your head, still panting from the physical exertion. "I can't."

"You can't?" He questioned.

"I have to go." You took a big step backwards, Steve's arms fell back to his sides.

More concern than Steve ever thought was humanly possible took over his mind. "Where do you need to go?"

"I don't know." You sobbed. "I just need to go. I'm sorry"

Another two scared steps backwards, then you bolted out of the gym. Steve started making strides towards you, fully prepared to follow you but Sam approached him and stuck his arm out.

"You have to let her go on her own." Hand flat to Steve's chest, he stopped him. "She needs time to calm down and come to terms with what just happened. Trust that if she needs something, she will call you."

Steve's shoulders deflated. He wanted to go help, convince you to see a medic and have an emergency meeting with your therapist, but he also knew Sam was probably right.

With a big deep breath, Steve assessed the state of the gym. Realizing one of the treadmills was still on and going, he reached over the machine to stop it. Then a few commands slipped through his mouth while trying to organize his own brain.

He needed the security camera footage of the incident, he needed the alarm to stop, he needed a lab clean up crew to get rid of all the blood on the gym floor, and he needed Harvey handcuffed to the hospital bed he was bound to end up in. He was too tired to do any of that on his own, but luckily others were eager to get this taken care of too.

Just as he was no longer needed, Bucky approached and squeezed his shoulder.

"What's that thing on your face?" Bucky's nose scrunched up.

"She got me on accid-"

"I'm not talking about the bruise. I didn't even know you were capable of growing a beard" Bucky commented.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve glared at Bucky. "I forgot my razor."

"Respectfully," Bucky stated looking him up and down. "You look like shit, Pal."

"Thanks, Buck." Steve sarcastically smiled. He knew he looked disheveled and tired.

"Really, I think 66 more years of sleep would look good on you." He backhandedly tapped Steve's chest. "Go take a nap."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep after she ran off like that." Steve sighed.

"We'll take care of her." Bucky reassured him. "We can always wake you up if need be, but her and Nat have grown really close. She has a lot of people in her court."

After about 10 more minutes of arguing with Bucky, he decided to just let him win under the conditions that he would keep him updated when he found out any new information.

Steve showered, shaved, and put on sweatpants and a shirt before getting into bed. He didn't want to wear pants, but he did it for your sake, just in case you came to find him. Realizing it had been about an hour since the incident, he tried calling you just to see if you would pick up, but he wasn't shocked when you didn't. So he sent you a text letting you know he was here for you when you were ready, then tried his hardest to get his mind to calm down enough to fall asleep.

It took an unfortunately short amount of time, as the second he laid down sleep hit him harder than your fist against his face, and he knocked out for so long that he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing, and it was now pitched black in his bedroom.

"Hello?" Steve mumbled into his phone.

"Jesus Christ, good morning sleeping beauty." Bucky said.

"Weren't you the one who told me to get some sleep?" Steve poked.

"Not important, glad you're back from the dead. I have some updates for you. Are you awake enough to process the words I'm speaking to you"

“I will be once I'm filled with rage over this situation again. What's up?"

"The security footage was recovered and I finally got to see it. It's enough evidence to land Harvey in jail for assault, so that's what Natasha is currently perusing."

Steve sat up in bed and reached for the lamp on the bedside table, blinking his eyes to adjust as it clicked on. "What happened?"

"She was alone in the gym, running on the treadmill and minding her own business. 212 saw her in there on her own, snuck in through the back door and yanked her off the treadmill. Her foot slipped off the end of the machine so he pushed her forward and scraped her face and arms against the moving belt, which is why she was bleeding. He was screaming some things at her but none of it is very clear. He tried kicking her a few times but she was able to get up and try to push him off of her, he persisted and she got fed up after he managed to get a swing at her collar bone and kicked her chin. She just... started swinging at him and didn't stop until you and Nat got them away from each other." Bucky explained.

"If this video can get him in jail, that would be great. But it can't be used if it's incriminating against her. We can't have that happen." Steve sighed.

"If anything, it's proof of self defense. You know Nat would never let anything bad happen to her. None of us would." Bucky reminded Steve. "It looked really painful on her end though. She ended up going to medical, but they released her a couple hours ago. JARVIS is telling me she's hanging out on the roof."

"Think I should go up there?" Steve asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, already knowing the answer.

"Well I don't necessarily think she should be alone for much longer."

"I'll talk to you later then."

The call ended and Steve stood in front of the mirror to fix his hair, while trying his hardest to ignore how tender and swollen his cheek was now. Before making it up to the private roof access, Bucky sent him the video and it took everything out of him to not kill Harvey with his own two hands. But a deep breathing exercise helped him regulate his anger again.

When he got up there and made it to the top, he saw you laying beneath the stars on a blanket with your headphones on, quietly crying to yourself and hoping that the moon understood your pain.

You noticed Steve immediately, and took your headphones off before sitting up as he quietly sat down next you. Trying your hardest to be brave, your lip wobbled trying to contain the new wave of emotion you felt. No words needed to be exchanged as you gently reached up and cupped his bruised cheek into your palm. There was a physical pain blossoming in your chest as he wrapped you up into his arms, but butterflies fluttered in his stomach as you let one of your arms keep him close, and your hand stayed over his cheek.

You cried tucked into his neck for a little while as he rubbed your back and simply let you feel your feelings. After a little while he heard your small broken voice.

"I'm so sorry." You apologized again, bravely pulling away and moving your hand to inspect the damage you did to his face. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"It's okay, Bugs. I'm fine. It was a dumb move on my part to grab you like that, if I was you I would've punched me too." Steve responded sincerely, taking in the burn-like scabs on your face down near your jaw. "Are you okay?"

"Could've been a lot worse." You nodded with a sniffle, really trying to convince yourself that you were okay. "I don't remember what happened, it all happened so fast I can't even recall specifics. I got scared and didn't want to hurt anyone else so I ran. I'm still trying to come down from that."

"I saw footage from the security camera, it wasn't good, Bug." Steve broke the news to you softly. "You did what you needed to do, and it was all within reason. There mere fact that you walked away with a few scrapes and bruises is a miracle."

"Did he sneak up on me?" You asked, Steve simply nodded in return with a sympathetic look on his face. "That's what I thought must've happened, that's also probably why I punched you so hard."

"If you need to see the video to help you process, I'll show it to you. But right now, I think it's best to just try and wind down."

In agreement, you made yourself comfortable next to Steve. You sat sideways nearly on his lap, with your legs thrown over his. His arm pulled you into his torso, and you rested your head onto your shoulder. Steve noticed your tiny winces as you adjusted to the new found pain and soreness in your body, but he tried his best to avoid all the spots he knew were injured.

“You saw a doctor right? Is everything okay?" He questioned, genuinely concerned.

You nodded. "Everything is pretty surface level, but apparently being slammed onto some heady gym equipment can bruise a rib."

"Bruised ribs are so painful" Steve's face scrunched up. "You're one tough cookie."

"I'm sorry this is what you came home to after being away for so long."

Steve was looking at you, admiring the way you looked under the moonlight, yet you couldn't keep your eyes off the stars. "I wish you didn't feel the need to apologize for things that aren't your fault."

"I'm working on that, and I don't anymore for most people. But for you? A million apologies wouldn't be enough. You're too sweet for this kind of nonsense."

"You are too, but out of all people you should know that I understand." Steve stressed. "In a lot of ways, we're very similar, Bug. I know what it feels like to be in the position you're in right now. You don't need to explain anything or apologize to me. I get it."

You tried to understand his words, but you really didn't. For a moment, you almost got upset with him for implying that anyone would treat him the way you've been treated around the compound. Steve was one of the most respected people in the world, you could barely earn the respect of a new hire agent. "I don't see anyone rushing to try and physically harm you for going on a run." You wiped tears from under your eyes.

"No, maybe not here." Steve agreed with you. "But way back when I first got the serum, I struggled really hard to earn respect from anyone around me."

"I have to admit, it's hard to imagine anyone disrespecting you."

Steve grinned and carefully brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your eyes. "I went from a 90 pound asthmatic who didn't have the strength to complete one push up to a human science experiment. I proved myself the very moment after I got the serum and it still wasn't enough for a lot of people. Thats why I was paraded around on that USO tour for so long, nobody thought I could handle fighting a war."

"You looked really cute in those booty shorts" you sniffled.

Steve chuckled at your statement. "Stop making me laugh when I'm trying to teach you a valuable lesson."

"I'd rather jump off this roof than not make you laugh" you smiled despite the contradictory tears.

"The point of this conversation is actually to make sure you don't jump off the roof." Steve informed you.

Your eyes moved from the stars to his eyes, they were both as equally beautiful and bright. "Is that what you're worried about? I would never-"

"Quite honestly, yeah, I am." He cautiously continued with a slight nod. "We see a more on a daily basis than anyone should see in their whole life, that alone is grounds for struggle but when you factor in everything else, I don't think that concern is far off."

Your tears fell faster at his statement. As a sad sob slipped past your throat and your eyes found the sky once more, Steve's heart broke knowing he hit the nail on the head. He also knew you wouldn't open up if you felt defensive about it, so he needed to take the scenic route to get you there.

"What's your favorite part about the stars?" Steve asked. "You seem to love looking at the sky when you're sad."

"Looking for constellations helps me stay calm and get out of my head" You explain with a sniffle. "They're hard to see in the city but it's better here upstate."

Steve looked up. "It's amazing to me that you can find constellations. All I see is each individual star."

You pointed at the brightest light. "That's Saturn, and these stars right below it make up the Aquarius constellation."

"It's crazy that the universe is so vast."

"That's another reason why I like the stars so much. With so much happening out there, it's a good reminder that everything down here is so tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe. Sometimes that makes me feel like I can keep going strong, like one day none of this will even matter."

"You really believe in astrology? I go back and forth. The stars are so far away, I struggle to understand how they can control so much of who we are." Steve pondered.

"I do believe in it." You nodded. "The moon controls our oceans, the tide is physical proof. Our bodies are made up of 60% water, and all of the other elements we're made up of were formed in the stars over the course of billions of years. It's hard for me to believe they don't have a say in what's going on down here."

"I've never thought of it that way." Steve grinned. "It's really magical when you put it like that."

"Maybe you're made up of more stardust than the average human considering your eyes seem to twinkle like they're already up in space." You noted. "It's magical, but it's also equally devastating to feel like the bad parts of your life are written into the stars."

"We need the not so great stuff to help us understand how amazing the good stuff is. Can't see the stars if the sun is out." For some reason, his perspective brought you comfort. It felt like the hug he kept you wrapped up in. "Maybe that's always why I've thought so highly of you. Despite the darkness you've continued to show excellence, and shine brighter than the rest."

"Then maybe I'm a supernova because sometimes I really do feel like I'm going to explode." You giggled at your own realization.

"Even then you'd still shine a million times brighter than the sun!" Steve enthused, big smile on his face. "But don't explode, black holes are terrifying."

"I won't. That's why I came up here. Avengers only access, don't have to worry about anybody else or the damn sprinklers."

"When I was in the Army, drawing was my version of looking at the stars. It was the only way I could really get my mind to quiet down." Steve explained. "Back then, I was miserable. All the army men hated me, I had recently lost my mom, and I thought I killed Bucky. The war was so horrific I didn't think I'd ever be able to recover from what I had to do or what I had to see, and I felt even worse for the innocent lives taken in the whole ordeal. So, when I knew that I could end it... I did."

"You're a hero because of it." You agreed, feeling a bit confused by his words.

"No, you don't understand." Steve denied. "The plane crash that got me stuck in the ice? I could've gotten out. There was a chance for me to jump out of the plane, but I didn't. I didn't see the point."

Your heart sank at the implication of what he was confessing to you, and all it wanted to make you do is just hold him tight and weep forever. But you knew that wasn't the point, you knew you just needed to keep listening.

"I can't say that I regret it, because had that never happened I would've never gotten to enjoy living a life I never imagined, and I would've never met you, or the Avengers." He explained. "But it made my life far more complicated, and at least once a day I imagine what my life would've been like had I just gotten myself to safety, and that imagining- the 'what's ifs?' is something I'd never wish upon anyone. I do know how you feel, and much like you know the moon controls the ocean, I know things will get better. All you need to do is believe it."

Your eyes momentarily squeezed shut to rid them of the tears blurring your vision. They dripped down your cheeks as you shook your head, and his brave vulnerability made you realize that you always loved him, but in this moment you had fully and irrevocably had fallen for him. It was as if there was no more questions in your mind, you couldn't even understand anymore why you hadn't been with him way before this whole mess. It consumed every single one of your emotions, you simply couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I would never, Rogers, never." You confirmed with a cry. "I can't lie, I've been pushed to thinking about it, but it made me realize that I couldn't do that to you, my parents, Luca. Nobody. I love you so much, and I really hate to hear that, but I'm really glad you're here."

"Maybe this is what was written in the stars." Steve reached his hand up and used his thumb to gently swipe tears off your cheeks. "Maybe all of this was meant to happen so that this moment, right now could teach you that no matter what happens, you'll always have people to catch you at the bottom should you feel like you have nowhere else to go."

"Or maybe the lesson is that the idea of our existences happening at the same time is so unlikely that we have no choice but to listen to the universe." You said quietly, almost coming to that realization in real time. "Maybe you were always meant to be mine."

Steve's heart nearly pounded out of his chest as you spoke those words, then, as you looked up at him and closed the distance between your lips, he felt like a supernova too. He was burning hotter and brighter than ever before when your soft lips connected to his, his chest was mere seconds away from exploding when you pulled away to examine his shocked face.

Trying to process what had just happened, the sound of your giggles at his twinkling eyes and blushed cheeks grounded him and pulled him right back down to earth.

"Wait hold on..." Steve clutched his chest.

"Are you going to throw up?" You asked, wiping the last of your tears off your face as your smile took over.

"I think I need to sit down." He stated, finally making eye contact with you.

Your laugh boomed once again. "You're already sitting!"

"Okay, then I need to lay down." He said, readjusting to lay down on your blanket.

Your smile persisted as you laid down next to him. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, your hands intertwined. "This is better than you throwing up."

"Wait..." Steve spoke, looking up at the moon.

You turned your head to look at him. "What?"

"Again" He insisted, turning his head towards you too.

It took a lot of effort to contain your smile enough to kiss him, but you did, and it felt just as right as the first time. Keeping it short and sweet, it didn't take long for Steve to point to the stars.

"I like these bitches, they're being very nice to me right now" He smiled.

Admitting to how hard you laughed at his statement would simply be too embarrassing, but it was hard enough to yell at him for further irritating your bruised rib. "Now you can't get mad at me for calling you Twinkles."

"You can call me whatever you want, Love Bug."

Butterflies in your stomach erupted in flutters at his choice of nickname. "A cancer and a Gemini, who would've thought?"

Steve shrugged. "It works."

"What now?" You asked with a sigh, you didn't know if you were asking Steve or the stars.

"You fight your ass off in a trial against Harvey, you help us out in an investigation on him and everyone that's been tormenting you, you continue doing what you're amazing at, and you keep that beautiful smile on your face because all of this is about to change." Steve explained. "This was the fuel we needed to start a fire around the compound. It's enough to light the whole place up and change the status quo. By the end of it, it's going to improve the lives of every agent in the program, that's my vow to you."

All his words sounded appealing and genuine enough to believe them.

"Pinky promise?" You raised your pinky on the hand that wasn't already holding his.

"Pinky promise" He connected his pinky with yours, then kissed the back of his hand... then your forehead... then your lips.

He knew confidently, now more than ever, that his love for you transcended time and space. The laws of life, love, nature, and even the stars never applied to the connection you two shared.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was coincidence that the boy born in 1918 had a chance to fall so deeply in love with a girl who didn't live in the same era as him.

Or maybe everything did happen for a reason. Maybe your life was already mapped out in the stars, and all you had to do was find the right constellations.

You would always have infinite questions about the intricacies of the universe, but out of all the answers you are confident in, you knew two things for certain.

Steve was your North Star. So long as you had him to guide you, you always knew you'd be on the correct path. You'd always get where you needed to go, and he would always be there for you regardless of what season of life you were in.

He was your star crossed lover.

Next Part: Promotion

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[morelikeravenbore]

Pandora's Book, part one

🔞 Sebastian Sallow x Book | PART ONE

Unhinged!Sebastian, objectophilia, sexual acts with a (sort of) inanimate object, an exploration of grief and acute loneliness. Seventh year, minor changes to canon.

Warning: explicit content. All characters 18+. Minors do not interact. Reader discretion is advised.

Seeking distraction from his interminable apathy, or a temporary relief from his guilt that didn't resort to obliterating his own memory, the girls he took made him feel good, said pretty things that made him believe, for a while, that he wasn't broken and irredeemable. But then, issues of that nature were likely a job for St Mungos rather than some girl's mouth in the back of a disused classroom, and over time, the thrill of mindlessly fucking his pain away began to dull, and he recoiled from their sweet nothings and gentle affections; like everything else in Sebastian's life, even the flames of desire eventually turned cold, and his escapades became less about feeling better and more about feeling anything.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

A/N: Erm. I'm not even sure how to introduce this one, but I've had this idea in my head for months now and — well, brain rot. I KNOW it sounds like a crackfic — and it kind of is — but it's also an (unhinged and smutty) exploration of grief. This'll be a multipart story, probably three parts. I'll update as quickly as I can but I'm a turtle writer so please be patient with me. Thanks for reading, fellow unhinged bebes, I luv u.

Word count: 3k

[ao3 | wattpad] ✨ [HL fic masterlist]

The gate is opened, and the night

Rushes across the sky with a shout.

The gate is opened, and the evil

Comes pouring out.

-x-

'Oh, shut up, would you?' Sebastian muttered as a particularly vocal book wailed directly in his ear.

Darkness surrounds you... your soul is lost, torn between light and dark, ripped to shreds by your own hand... darkness creeps, ever closer... ever closer...

'Yeah, yeah,' he muttered, pausing just long enough to cast a cursory glance at whichever accursed book was taunting him aloud this time. Ah, of course: Secrets of the Darkest Arts. That one had always been especially antagonistic toward him — even before he'd murdered his uncle. 

Rolling his eyes, he gave the offending book a swift two-fingered prod, sliding it deeper into the dark recesses of the shelf it was chained to. It shuddered with indignation — if a book was capable of such a thing — and cursed him so vehemently in Latin he would've been impressed had it not been calling his dead mother a swine.

Unphased, Sebastian scoffed and kept walking, the sound of his footsteps dampened between towering bookshelves as he made his way deeper into the deathly stillness of the library.

To another, perhaps less traumatised sort of person, the idea of inanimate objects giving voice might've been a bit unsettling, but Sebastian was quite used to books shouting at him by now; having spent more time in the Restricted Section than he suspected even the librarian had, their disembodied voices were sometimes the only interaction he got outside of his N.E.W.T classes — that is, if he didn't count Ominis Gaunt, whose insults were often far worse than anything a Dark Arts book could conjure, and who generally addressed him with an equal amount of spite and derision. In fact, Ominis was partly the reason why Sebastian spent so much time alone with a bunch of talking books to begin with: it was one thing for a book to berate you for all your past mistakes, but quite another when it came from your best friend. 

No, when it came to facing resentment, Sebastian would sooner bear the brunt of it from some gruesome edition of Magick Moste Evile than see it written clearly across another's face. In fact, there'd been a time when the incorporeal voices of those awful books had enticed him, called out to him like a siren song, drawn him in with promises of power and glory the likes of which he'd never dreamed of. And he, driven by his desperation to free his twin sister from the grips of a dark curse, had immersed himself in their age-browned pages so thoroughly he'd begun to hear their voices in his dreams.

But that was then. 

Now, those ghostly whispers, once a comfort to a boy who'd had very little of it in his life, were more like the incessant buzzing of insects, harsh and irritating. He was no longer interested in what secrets they had to offer him: Anne was dead, and nothing in any book would ever bring her back — of that, he was certain.

Stretching up to reach a high shelf, Sebastian slid another misplaced book into its correct place, feeling a sense of pride he seldom felt any more. Being voiceless, this particular book couldn't thank him for his tireless commitment to reorganising the forbidden library, but at least it couldn't offend him, either.

Having nowhere else to go after his classes and homework were done, he'd come to frequent this part of the castle so often that he'd appointed himself as an unofficial librarian of sorts. Judging by the general air of neglect about the place, old Scribner never bothered venturing this deep into the forbidden recesses of the library, so rather than tossing and turning in his bed, Sebastian spent his restless nights bringing some semblance of order to the forsaken space, dusting shelves, repairing book spines, and clearing out the infestations of spiders that'd taken up residence in the darkest corners. It didn't matter if every so often some ancient tome insulted his dead parents or taunted him for his lack of an intact soul, if it was incorrectly catalogued, missing a cover, or simply in need of a good clean, he would diligently set it right again and move on. It was a library, after all, albeit a nefarious one, and it deserved respect.

He was just turning a darkened corner, muttering about the lack of proper organisation and general disregard for the correct cataloguing procedures when something — no, someone — distinctly moaned his name.

Well, that was new.

Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks. In all the time he'd haunted these aisles, he'd never once come across another living soul — at least, none who wasn't made of paper and evil.

Calmly depositing his armful of books onto a nearby desk, he withdrew his wand from his pocket. Not much scared him any more — committing murder and raising the dead made one rather fearless in the face of anything less — but it was apprehension, not fear, that had him casting Homenum Revelio under his breath. This was his peaceful hideaway; he neither wanted to share it nor have it taken away by some meddlesome idiot.

But the spell resounded through the empty library, detecting no living presence besides his own. 

He was alone. 

Strange. Either Sebastian was officially going mad, or the books were becoming more sentient — for all their moaning, whining and idle threats of bodily harm, none had ever addressed him by name before.

He paused, held his breath, strained his ears.

There! — There it was again, a distinctly feminine voice calling out for him. 

s e b a s t i a n... i n e e d y o u...

Swearing under his breath, he followed the spectral call as best he could, his fingers trailing over the dusty shelves as he hurried down the aisle, leaving streaks through the grime that might lead him back should be lose his way.

As desensitised as he was to all thinges evile, some distant part of him wondered whether he might be better off ignoring the call of this one — he was surrounded by evil books, after all, and Sebastian wasn't stupid enough to forget that anything gained from cursed pages demanded something of the reader in return: a sacrifice, some sanity, a little piece of the soul. But the desperation in that voice, the pain — the longing...

'Say it again!'

Whimpering moans, a body squirming beneath his; the cute Ravenclaw had been giving him the eyes for weeks before he'd finally gotten her alone. 

'Say it again, or I won't give you what you want.'

Lustful eyes met his — pretty, but he couldn't recall their colour now; they all looked the same after a while. 

'I need you,' she whined, grinding her hips against his. 'Sebastian, I need you.'

He was sweating by the time he found it; tucked away in a small side chamber he hadn't gotten around to cleaning yet, and half-hidden behind piles of long-forgotten junk, the voice called to him from an innocuous-looking cabinet in the corner. Its glass panels were thick with dust, but the door opened easily, unobstructed by lock or magic.

Inside, the books weren't chained to their shelves or bound shut with leather straps, nor made of flesh or covered in suspicious-looking stains. They were just — books; plain old inanimate books.

All but one.

He wasn't exactly sure what first drew him to it. Instinct, he supposed, for it bore no title to pique his interest, and the cover was dull and plain, free of any macabre embellishments that usually made restricted books so alluring. But when his gaze settled upon it, the sudden, terrible ache at his separation made him sure this was the one.

Mine.

He snatched it up, clutched it to his chest — laboured breaths mingled with his; the book was panting as hard as he was, sweet, breathy whimpers against his chest — and when he felt a second heartbeat thumping against his own, knew he'd sooner die than ever let it go again.

s e b a s t i a n...

'Yes,' he growled, squeezing it tighter, his grip possessive.

i n e e d y o u...

'I know.'

w a i t e d s o l o n g...

Striding over to a small table against the far wall, he cleared a space amongst the ancient clutter and gently laid the precious tome atop it, stroking the cover with the adoring touch of a lover, tender and gentle. How supple it felt beneath his calloused palms, and strangely warm.

'I've got you,' he breathed, reverently tracing the hardcover edges with his thumbs, his eyes glazed and heavy.

p l e a s e, s e b a s t i a n...

'Please what?' He leaned down as if to whisper in an ear that wasn't there, his breath ghosting the surprisingly pristine pages.

t o u c h m e...

Loneliness had a way of changing people; extroverts became withdrawn, optimists turned cynical. But when that loneliness was the direct result of one's own failings, it withered anything pure that had ever bloomed in a person's psyche, leaving only a wasted garden in its place, a bed of rotting roots.

Once a boy of friendly disposition and bright curiosity, Sebastian's innate optimism had slowly eroded away after every loss that'd darkened his life: his parents, his sister, his uncle, each death a blow to his happiness from which he never recovered, rendering him withdrawn and bitter, a tree lopped well before its time. — But though he might’ve been emotionally damaged beyond repair, but there was certainly nothing wrong with his body.

Sebastian was tall for his age, handsome and broad-shouldered as his father had been, his muscular physique and toned forearms the result of several years playing as the Slytherin Beater. He wasn't ignorant to the way girls looked at him, nor oblivious to the effect he had on them when he flexed his arms or ruffled his hair. And despite his melancholy (or perhaps because of it, as one Slytherin girl had told him), he attracted intimate partners with surprising ease.

When he'd lost all sense of himself under the crushing weight of grief, it was sex that made him feel alive again.

Ever the resourceful Slytherin, he used this inherent charm to his full advantage, setting his sights on only the prettiest girls in his year level, the most unavailable, or the ones too shy to meet his gaze. He revelled in their blushes and giggles when he brushed his hand against theirs, their darkened pupils and parted lips when he finally had them pushed up against a wall or straddling his lap, and soon, Sebastian found himself addicted to the taste of soft lips against his hungry mouth, the flush of goosebumps beneath his demanding touch, slick thighs and flushed skin.

Seeking distraction from his interminable apathy, or a temporary relief from his guilt that didn't resort to obliterating his own memory, the girls he took made him feel good, said pretty things that made him believe, for a while, that he wasn't broken and irredeemable. But then, issues of that nature were likely a job for St Mungos rather than some girl's mouth in the back of a disused classroom, and over time, the thrill of mindlessly fucking his pain away began to dull, and he recoiled from their sweet nothings and gentle affections; like everything else in Sebastian's life, even the flames of desire eventually turned cold, and his escapades became less about feeling better and more about feeling anything.

Still, he couldn't say with any measure of truth that he'd felt anything like this from a book before.

Maybe he really had lost his mind.

'Touch you?' He swallowed roughly, fingering the notches of the spine. 'Where?'

s p r e a d m e... t o u c h m e...

With his entire body throbbing with need, Sebastian spread the book open to the middle pages. He ran a slow, measured finger down the length of the inner crease, imagining the soft hollow of a collarbone, the sensitive dip of an inner thigh. But to his immense surprise, his finger did not glide over the smooth paper as he was expecting, but sank in, disappearing into the spine as if he'd breached some concealed opening. Instead of meeting a paper barrier, or even the polished wooden table beneath it, he delved into a strangely wet, yet pleasantly warm depth.

He added another. Sebastian's fingers were thick, but the pages yielded easily to accommodate them, stretching and pulsing around him.

Something inside him roared to life.

'Is this what you want?'

Mingled breath, pretty skin. Snow was falling outside but her body burned against his.

'Yes! Yes, Sebastian, please!'

The resulting moan that fell from the book's lips — pages? — ignited a primal, aching need inside him. Musical and clear, and so deliciously lustful it made his knees tremble, it was the single most beautiful sound Sebastian had ever heard in his life: ethereal and otherworldly, pretty and bright — and yet, somehow, achingly familiar. He slid his fingers deeper, the slip of the unmarred pages like silken bliss against his skin, and when the voice whimpered in approval, he thought of the last girl he'd fucked under the Quidditch stands who'd made very similar noises with his fingers inside her. Sebastian smiled, remembering the way he'd had to hold her up when she came all over his hand, her knees buckling and her mouth agape in a silent scream of bliss.

'Oh, so this what you need, is it?'

Sebastian was grunting now, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he curled his fingers deeper into the pages' soft, wet void.

The empyreal voice only cried out in reply, but the tight, hot opening fluttered around his fingers in that additive way he knew proceeded a mind-shattering orgasm. He smiled again, half-feral with lust as he pawed at his own crotch, roughly stroking the evidence of his depravity that was straining against his breeches.

'I'm going to finger fuck you until you fall to pieces.' He picked up his pace, the veins in his forearm bulging with the exertion of the efforts, his hair falling over his eyes. 'Is that what you want? To be ruined?'

'Sebastian! Sebas— fuck!'

Frantically rocking hips, fingers slippery with desire.

'Do I make you feel good? Do I? — No, look at me when you come!'

Well past the point of no return, Sebastian watched the rhythmic pumping of this fingers with a singular intensity, marveling at the way they slid so easily into the mysterious depths of the book only to come out coated in slick. This was better than any real girl he'd even been with; this was all-encompassing, mind-numbing bliss, each glistening stroke soothing his burdened mind, mending the roots in his ruined garden.

This was magical.

It was some time before a cramp in his hand had Sebastian reluctantly peeling away from the books' lush center— but the pain of their separation was immediate and unbearable. Whimpering, he went immediately for his breeches, his stiff, slippery fingers struggling with his belt and fastenings until, finally, in a half-blind sort of daze, hot and throbbing, he stroked himself with a raw, gutteral cry. The table groaned under his weight as he leaned over it, mimicking the sounds that fell from his ruined throat.

i n e e d y o u...

His hips bucked.

With one knee propped on the table and a pant leg still tangled around one leg, the angle was awkward, uncomfortable, and if he weren't so utterly fucked out of his mind, he might’ve stopped to reconsider, well... everything.

But he couldn't stop. Now now.

Instead, mumbling stupid, unintelligible praises, he managed to angle himself in just the right way to swipe his weeping tip through the deliciously slick cease.

His mind went blank.

There was no warm body to hold onto, no hips to bruise nor neck to sink his teeth into, just an old splintery tabletop and smooth pages — and yet, if he closed his eyes, he could almost envision a trembling, sweat-slicked body beneath him, as warm and needy as any he'd had before.

If somebody were to walk in on him now, hovering half-naked over a book, painfully hard and inarticulate with lust, they'd be hard pressed to make him stop.

At this point, not even a team of Auror's could pry Sebastian cock away from these pages.

They'd have to crucio him to make him stop.

And even then...

Trembling with the effort of holding himself steady, he gingerly probed the spot his fingers had just been enjoying.

He slid in an inch. Then another.

The book shuddered.

His vision blurred.

i n e e d y o u...

'Sebastian, I need you!'

He fell forward, knees buckling, pleading, whimpering — then a voice, maybe his own, maybe the books', let out a garbled, broken cry as he sank into the sweet, tight abyss.

The world narrowed to the euphoric point of connection, and nothing else.

Pleasure, exquisite.

And nothing else.

And nothing else.

[part two coming soon]

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