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Buttons Loosen

2013-03-06T02:02:00Z

Title: Buttons Loosen
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Taemin/Minho/Kai
Summary: So obviously, he never would have guessed he’d be lying against Minho with Taemin’s hands working his belt loose.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Breathe Carolina. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

Jongin doesn’t think much of it when Minho wraps his arms around him and brings him to Taemin. He just tries to free himself from his grip, laughing the entire way. Taemin smiles brightly at him and tries to shove a microphone in his face so he can speak.

The whole atmosphere is lighthearted. He feels comfortable with his back pressed against Minho.

Taemin runs his hands through his hair. The gesture is oddly intimate and Jongin finds himself hoping that no one saw it.

He tries to get away, but before Minho lets go, Taemin whispers into his ear, “Find us when this is over.”

Jongin nods and Minho allows him to leave. He glances back, and Taemin’s already cozied up by Minho’s side.

-

It doesn’t take Jongin long to find Taemin and Minho. Minho’s smiling brightly at Taemin, an arm around his shoulders.

Taemin says, “There you are.”

“What did you need?”

Taemin glances at Minho, then back at Jongin, “You’re coming with us.”

-

Jongin isn’t good at predicting things. And sometimes he’s kind of oblivious to the intentions of others. So obviously, he never would have guessed he’d be lying against Minho with Taemin’s hands working his belt loose.

“Taemin.”

“I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Jongin shakes his head and places a hand on Minho’s thigh, feeling him press his mouth to his cheek. He turns his head and brings Minho closer, kissing him. Minho’s gentle, his hands sliding up Jongin’s shirt, pulling it over his head.

Taemin tugs on his jeans and Jongin lifts his hips, letting him slide them off. Taemin’s lips are suddenly on his neck, biting and sucking in a way that will surely leave marks.

Minho curls his hand around Jongin’s cock, hearing him try to suppress a moan. Minho says, “It’s fine.”

Taemin reaches around Jongin, grabbing the hem of Minho’s shirt and taking it off. Minho’s skin is warm against Jongin’s back and he feels his heart race at the contact.

Taemin smiles, quickly leaning in to press his lips to Minho’s. “Hyung.” Minho hums in response and Taemin says, “Nothing.” Minho threads his fingers in Taemin’s hair, pulling him in again.

Jongin squeezes Minho’s thighs, “Please.”

Taemin cups the side of his face, “What do you want?”

Jongin bites his lip, “Anything.”

Minho’s hand gets replaced with Taemin’s mouth, and he has Jongin writhing in seconds. Minho rubs his hips, placing kisses to his neck.

“Taemin-ah.” Jongin’s voice breaks, “Fuck.” He smoothes down his hair, seeing a glint in Taemin’s eyes when he glances at him.

“It’s okay.”

Minho’s reassurances calm him. He believes him. It’s comforting to have him here.

Taemin runs his tongue over the head, taking him in all the way. Jongin trails his fingertips lightly along his cheek for a second before he lets his head fall back to Minho’s shoulder.

Taemin looks up at him, pulling off. He pushes Jongin’s hair from his face, “Get on your knees.”

Jongin complies without hesitation and he hears clothes being tossed to the floor. His head’s in Minho’s lap and he brings his hands up to fumble with his pants. Minho asks, “What are you doing?”

“Take them off.”

Minho does, and Jongin presses his face against his thigh. He cards his fingers through his hair, almost lovingly.

Taemin spreads his legs a bit further, slowly slipping in a slick finger.

Jongin takes in a breath, propping himself up on his elbows. He glances up at Minho, who’s focused on Taemin. He takes Minho into his mouth, earning a low moan.

Taemin adds another finger, praising Jongin. “He’s so good, isn’t he?”

Minho makes a noise of agreement, tucking Jongin’s hair behind his ear. Jongin licks a stripe up the length of his cock, spit dripping from the head. Minho rubs Jongin’s back, his nails unintentionally scraping his skin and making Jongin lean into him.

Taemin twists his fingers and Jongin bites his lip to muffle a groan. He looks over his shoulder and Taemin smirks at him, pulling his hand away and sliding on a condom.

Fuck.

Taemin holds his hips steady as he pushes in, making Jongin feel every inch. Jongin breathes harshly against Minho’s thigh and Minho asks, “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just—no, it doesn’t.”

He lets out a small laugh, petting the side of Jongin’s head.

Taemin rubs his hand over Jongin’s back, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Will you move?”

Taemin snorts and grips Jongin’s hips tighter than before, thrusting hard into him.

Jongin’s voice is shaky as he says, “Like that.” He manages to hold himself up by his elbows as he laps at Minho’s cock, enjoying the way his fist pulls on his hair. Minho makes a deep groan that sends shocks down Jongin’s spine. Jongin thinks this is too much. He won’t be able to last much longer.

Taemin is letting out little whimpers, his fingers digging into Jongin’s hips. Minho’s thighs tense, his breath hitching.

Jongin comes over the blankets, shivering. He slumps against Minho, his hand lazily stroking him.

Taemin curses, going faster. Jongin pants, pushing his hips back to meet Taemin’s thrusts.

Jongin wraps his lips around Minho once again, tongue dipping into the slit. Minho grips the sheets and Jongin presses his fingers into his thighs.

Minho says, “Jongin-ah...” Jongin doesn’t look up at him, simply sucks harder until Minho’s groaning, coming into his mouth. “Fuck.”

Taemin leans over and Minho kisses him, curling his hand around the back of his neck and whispering, “Come on.” Taemin makes a small noise, gasping against Minho’s lips.

Jongin doesn’t register Taemin pulling out, doesn’t feel Minho move away. Suddenly he’s being lifted and put on the other bed, being covered by the blanket.

He reaches out and grabs someone’s wrist, his eyes partially opening to see Taemin. “Stay.”

Taemin smiles at him, “I will. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Jongin nods and as Taemin walks away, Minho slides into bed behind Jongin, his arm wrapping around his waist. Jongin sighs, lacing his fingers with Minho’s.

Taemin comes back a few minutes later, lying in front of Jongin.

“Taemin-ah,” he nuzzles his nose against Taemin’s chest, “do my members know I’m here?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Go to sleep, okay?”

Jongin nods, and falls asleep to the sound of Taemin and Minho softly breathing.

note: from now on i'll be posting my fics over at zixius
feel free to join/watch that!
♡

I See Your Eyes

2013-02-19T23:08:17Z

Title: I See Your Eyes
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sehun/Luhan
Summary: 498 words. He tries not to contemplate how much money is leaving his wallet from this.
Warnings: Prostitution.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Breathe Carolina. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

Sehun thinks to himself, fuck, you’re pretty, as this man unbuttons his shirt. He tries not to contemplate how much money is leaving his wallet from this.

The man runs his hands over his chest, “What’s your name?”

“Sehun.”

“I’m Luhan.” And Sehun knows that’s probably not his real name, but it’s something. It suits him.

Sehun brings Luhan in for a kiss, rutting against him.

Luhan tastes like the cheapest beer one can find mixed with toothpaste. It should probably be unpleasant, but Sehun thinks nothing about him is. He moans into his mouth, rubbing Sehun’s cock through his jeans. “What do you want?”

“On your knees.”

Luhan gives him a slight smirk, dropping to the floor. He undoes Sehun’s belt quickly, tugging off his jeans and briefs.

He looks up at him and Sehun sucks his lip between his teeth, putting a hand in his hair.

Luhan laps at the head of his dick, his eyes closing. Sehun’s fingers tighten and Luhan takes him in, sucking hard.

Sehun curses, arching off the brick wall. Luhan dips his tongue into the slit, causing Sehun to bite back a moan.

Sehun thinks Luhan’s too attractive to be doing this. Because, shit, he’s gorgeous. Sehun keeps staring down at him, pushing his hair back for a better view of his face.

Luhan pulls away, licking a stripe up the length of his cock, he whispers, “Do you like it, Sehun-ah?”

Sehun almost loses it right then. Luhan’s looking up at him with big brown eyes, hoping for approval. “Yeah.” Luhan gives him a smile and wraps his lips around him once again.

Sehun kind of wishes Luhan wasn’t so good, because he wants this to last a lot longer than he knows it will.

Sehun exhales, “Luhan,” twirling strands of his hair. Luhan tongues the underside and Sehun says his name again. “I’m close.”

Luhan hums and presses his fingers into Sehun’s hips. He sits back on his heels and Sehun sees his chin shiny from spit. His hand moves easily up and down his cock and Sehun lets a whimper escape as he comes, hitting Luhan’s cheek and watching it slide down his face.

He says, “Fuck.”

Luhan makes a small laugh, pulling a packet of tissues out of his back pocket.

“You don’t...”

Luhan shakes his head, knowing what Sehun was going to say. He wipes at his face while Sehun pulls his jeans back up and buttons his shirt. Luhan stands and hooks his fingers around Sehun’s belt loops, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Pay up.”

Sehun scrambles for his wallet, and shoves the money in Luhan’s hand.

Luhan grins at him, kissing his cheek. “Come find me if you need anything else, okay? I’ll give you a discount next time.”

Sehun swallows hard and nods, “Okay.”

With that, Luhan turns and leaves, stuffing his money into his pants. Sehun rubs a hand over his face, heading out of the alleyway to go home.

Hide Where Love Can Save Us

2013-01-31T19:50:23Z

Title: Hide Where Love Can Save Us
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sehun/Luhan
Summary: Luhan is so alive, it’s intoxicating.
Warnings: Bdsm, asphyxiation, knife/blood play, orgasm denial
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Zedd. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

How does something like this start? Did Luhan wake up one morning and suddenly enjoy pain? Surely something must have triggered it. He has spent hours, days, researching what could have caused this. To this day, he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t care anymore.

But, he doesn’t just like any pain. No, it has to hurt so bad he wants to pass out. It has to keep him on the edge. Sometimes, it even has to bleed and leave scars.

Sehun coming into his life was quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to him. He knows how these things work. Sehun is kind and relentless.

Luhan looks at him with wide eyes. He waits. Waits for Sehun to say something. Anything. The carpet is scratchy against his knees, as usual, but he doesn’t care.

“Luhan.” He motions for Luhan to come closer, and he pulls the metal chain connected to his collar so he can stand. He curls his hand around the back of Luhan’s neck, “You want it to hurt?” Luhan nods, anticipation driving him insane. “You want to cry?” Another nod. “Come,” he tugs on the chain, bringing Luhan with him to the bedroom. “You’re going to do as I say, or it’ll hurt in ways you don’t want it to. Understand?” He doesn’t wait for Luhan to respond before he’s smiling, “Of course you do,” he grabs his chin, “you’re always so good for me.” He decides he’s not going to tie him today.

Luhan kicks his boxers off and Sehun pushes him onto the bed. He runs his hands over Luhan’s back, lightly tracing the scars there. Sehun reaches into his jeans, pulling out his knife. He reaches around and presses it to Luhan’s neck, “Behave.” Luhan shuts his eyes, and Sehun slowly slides it across his side. Blood instantly comes to the surface, dripping down onto the blanket. “I cleaned it for you.”

Luhan is so alive, it’s intoxicating.

He makes five shallow cuts in a row, right next to his spine. Luhan makes a low noise, his fingers curling into the sheets. He whispers, “Sehun-ah.”

“What?”

“Deeper.”

Sehun thinks about it for a moment. On the back of his thigh? Should he flip him over and do his hip? No. Sehun slices deep against his shoulder blade.

Luhan moans, his face buried in the pillow. Sehun tells him to get on his back, and Luhan complies, cringing at the way his open wounds make contact with the bed.

Sehun wraps his fingers around his cock, enjoying the way Luhan bites his lip and arches up. He tugs on the metal chain, pulling Luhan’s collar.

Luhan is flawless. He’s Sehun’s.

“It’s not enough, is it? It’s never enough, hm?” His hand comes up to his throat, fingers pressing in. Luhan’s hands wrap around his arm instinctively, but he doesn’t pull, just keeps them there. Sehun pushes down, until Luhan looks like he’s truly struggling and tears form in his eyes. He’s perfected this. He lets go and Luhan takes in a rush of air, color returning to his face.

Sehun sucks two fingers into his mouth before roughly shoving them in Luhan. It burns, it’s not nearly slick enough. But that’s how Luhan likes it.

Sehun uses his other hand to dig his nails into Luhan’s thigh. Luhan writhes and his cock twitches, leaking onto his belly.

Sehun spits into his palm, spreading it on his dick. He pushes in, heat spreading through his body.

A few tears escape Luhan’s eyes and he wipes them away, staring at Sehun expectantly. Sehun presses his knife to Luhan’s thigh, cutting deep.

He runs his fingers through the blood, smearing it over his pale skin. Luhan cries out from the pain, from the feeling of someone touching his split flesh.

Sehun starts to move, a normal pace, rocking in and out of him. Luhan looks at the crimson dripping down his thigh, pooling at his hip. He throws his head back, feeling Sehun stroke his cock.

“Is it good?”

Luhan nods. The mix of pain and pleasure is what he loves. What he craves.

“Sehun, I’m—”

Sehun lets go, and Luhan groans in frustration. Sehun slips his hand up his chest to his neck, rubbing the leather of his collar. He smiles down at him, squeezing. Luhan arches his back, lips parted as they try to capture air. Sehun thrusts in roughly, hearing a small choked moan escape Luhan’s mouth. Sehun removes his hand, and Luhan sucks in oxygen.

Sehun pulls out, pumping his cock. Luhan curses and Sehun warns, “Behave.”

Sehun runs his thumb over the slit, pushing up into his fist and moaning Luhan’s name.

Luhan wants to scream. Wants to tell Sehun he’s a fucking tease. But he forces himself to stay quiet so he doesn’t get in trouble.

Sehun glances at him. Just lying there. Having to do what he’s told. He has so much power over him, he thinks it’s almost ridiculous.

Sehun comes onto Luhan’s hip, mixing with the drying blood. “Fuck.”

With a raspy voice, Luhan whispers, “Sehun-ah, please.”

Sehun runs his hand along his cheek lovingly, “Okay.” He leans down and sucks Luhan’s cock into his mouth. Luhan bucks up and Sehun presses his fingers into the cut on his thigh, keeping him still. He knows this won’t take long.

Sehun scrapes his nails down Luhan’s stomach, making him gasp and spill in his mouth.

Luhan grabs Sehun by the chin, urging him up. He brings their lips together, slipping his tongue over his lower lip.

Sehun can’t help but grin, as he grabs the first aid kit from the nightstand.

He makes Luhan turn around again, and puts antiseptic on his cuts, followed by bandages. He uses wet paper towels to wipe away the blood that has dried.

“Okay, on your back again.”

He carefully cleans his thigh, “Sorry I made it so deep.”

Luhan yawns and says, “It’s okay.”

When all of his wounds are taken care of, he carefully slips on some boxers and pajama pants. Luhan sits up to put on a shirt and lies back down. Sehun gives him a bottle of water for his throat and holds him against his chest.

Luhan brings up the blanket for more warmth, drinking his water.

Sehun briefly thinks that Luhan has his entire heart.

And that’s fine, because he has Luhan’s, too.

A/N: I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS IS.
WHO WANTS TO TELL ME WHAT THIS IS.
BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA. I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT.

No Vacancy

2013-01-27T00:57:43Z

Title: No Vacancy
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Taemin/Minho
Summary: 630 words. Taemin likes to let Minho indulge.
Warnings: Crossdressing, rimming.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Breathe Carolina. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

Taemin likes to let Minho indulge. He finds satisfaction in seeing Minho’s eyes narrow and turn darker than they already are. He’ll pretty much do anything, being the risk taker he is.

Which is how he ended up like this.

This being in a skirt and a blouse, pressed up against the wall. Minho’s biting at his neck, sliding his hand up his thigh. And fuck, maybe Taemin should have worn boxers, but when Minho touches the lace and pulls back to stare at him with lust filled eyes, the thought gets thrown out the window.

Minho smoothes his hand over his cock, pushing up his skirt to rub the head, uncovered by the underwear.

Taemin breathlessly says his name and Minho hums, spinning him around and shoving him hard into the wall. Minho falls to his knees and spreads Taemin’s legs, pulling down his panties and hiking his skirt up around his hips. He puts his hands on his ass, leaning in and licking his entrance.

Taemin arches back into him, bracing himself against the wall with his elbows.

Minho flicks his tongue, fucking getting in there. Taemin lets out a whine and buries his face in his arms, too turned on to even formulate a sentence. It’s as if his brain has been rewired to only know Minho.

Minho brings a hand around, stroking Taemin slowly. His tongue moves fast compared to his hand, and Taemin’s about to go insane. He tries to urge him on, “Hyung.”

There’s a click before Minho slips a slick finger into him. One quickly turns into two, and two becomes three. Taemin’s crying out and bucking his hips but Minho doesn’t let up, kissing the base of his spine.

“Take your shirt off.”

Taemin struggles for a moment, the women’s cut shirt unfamiliar, but he tosses it to the floor, hearing Minho shift and stand.

He curls and twists his fingers, nipping at Taemin’s shoulder blade.

“Minho hyung, please.”

Minho places his hands on Taemin’s hips, bunching up the fabric of his skirt and carefully sliding in.

Taemin digs his nails into his palms, pushing back against him. Minho’s breathing against his shoulder, his lips ghosting over his skin.

Taemin’s favorite thing about Minho is that Minho can go from gentle to relentless in five seconds. Taemin admits, Minho has him coiled around the tip of his finger, but he doesn’t even care.

Minho moans his name, pushing in hard. Taemin wipes his bangs from his face, the hair starting to stick to his forehead from sweat.

Minho lets his hands slip up, letting go of the skirt. He presses them to Taemin’s chest, pulling him back. Minho kisses up his neck, along his jaw.

Taemin grabs Minho’s wrist and Minho lets him guide his hand down. He manages between pants, “Hyung. I’m so close.”

Minho wraps his hand around his cock, making Taemin buck up into his fist.

Minho thumbs the head, and the fabric of the skirt brushes the slit.

The light touch is enough to send Taemin over the edge, his thighs shaking and his voice cracking as he cries out.

Taemin squeezes the hand Minho has on his hip, “Minho.”

Minho comes with his face pressed against Taemin’s the nape of Taemin’s neck, his name falling from his lips.

Taemin turns around, slumping against the wall. He hooks his arms around Minho’s neck, pulling him close.

Minho sighs, shutting his eyes. He rubs Taemin’s hip, before grabbing his thighs and lifting him up.

Taemin tightens his legs around Minho’s waist, “Hyung.”

Minho hums and puts him down on the bed, crawling over him. He kisses his neck, before settling next to him.

Taemin slides off the skirt, curling up to Minho and burying his face against his chest.

Leave Out All The Rest

2013-01-23T01:30:32Z

Title: Leave Out All The Rest
Author: zeropercent
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sehun/Luhan
Summary: He can’t bear to look at it, knowing he’s dying.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Linkin Park. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

Every baby is born with an orb clenched in their fists. When they’re born, the orb shines bright. The doctors put it on a necklace, and give it to the baby. It’s not taken off until death.

Luhan hides his under his shirt. His light is dim. He can’t bear to look at it, knowing he’s dying. He doesn’t want people to see it, either. When looking for significant others, people search for those with bright orbs. Luhan has been turned down numerous times the second the other person saw his orb.

He knows that if he ever finds his soul mate, his orb will illuminate. But that’s the problem. He’ll never find his. And he’s running out of time.

He works as a cashier in a bookstore. He’s glad not many people come in, since he feels overwhelming jealousy when he sees people his age, or older than him, with bright orbs around their necks.

One customer comes in at noon. The boy pays for his book, telling Luhan thank you and proceeds to sit in the corner to read for the next few hours.

Luhan doesn’t look at him once.

-

“Excuse me.”

Luhan turns around quickly, successfully knocking over a stack of books on the counter. “I’m sorry, just one minute.” He picks them up, carefully putting them back. “Yes?”

“I was wondering where the fantasy books were.”

Now, Luhan never makes eye contact with people, but he knows, by the sound of this person’s voice, that it’s the same boy from yesterday. A soft tone, a slight lisp. Luhan points, “They’re in the back on the left.”

“Thank you,” the boy seems to inch closer, looking at Luhan’s name tag, “Luhan.”

Luhan feels his face get hot and he ducks his head, facing the register once again.

-

Luhan notices the boy come in the next day, as well. Luhan looks at his face for once. And he’s beautiful. There’s no denying it. Luhan raises an eyebrow, “You certainly couldn’t have finished that book already.”

“I’m halfway through. I just needed something for school.” A momentary pause, “I’m Sehun.”

Luhan’s eyes travel down to his neck, to his necklace, shining against his skin. He unintentionally frowns, to which Sehun asks if he’s okay.

“I’m fine.”

Sehun nods, and goes to look for a book.

-

Sehun comes in every day for the next month. They usually make small talk and Sehun reads in the corner of the store. Luhan has noticed the way he becomes completely enveloped in the book. He leans over it, staring at the words intently. His hair falls in his face and he doesn’t bother brushing it away.

Today, he has a bag slung over his shoulder, holding two cups, one in each hand. He places one on the counter, “I don’t know how you like your coffee but I put some sugar in it...”

“You didn’t have to.” Luhan tentatively picks it up, taking a sip. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Sehun puts his own down and asks, “Can I grab a chair?” Luhan nods, and Sehun sits right next to the register, on the other side of Luhan. He opens his bag and pulls out some papers and a pencil, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“University is just,” he makes a hand movement, shrugging slightly.

Luhan can’t stop himself from staring. Sehun works diligently, his tongue darting out to lick his lips every once in a while. Occasionally he reaches over for his cup to drink out of it. Luhan finishes his coffee, throwing it into the trash can under the counter. “How old are you, Sehun?”

“Nineteen.” Sehun doesn’t ask how old he is, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Luhan. He blatantly stares at Luhan’s neck, where his orb should be but is covered by his shirt. Luhan feels self-conscious and coughs, making Sehun avert his gaze.

“I’m sorry for staring.”

Luhan bites his lip and nods, accepting the apology.

-

It’s pouring. No, it’s a borderline hurricane. Luhan sees people rushing around through the one way glass, most with umbrellas, others without. Sometimes Luhan likes to think of where they’re going. To work, home to their significant other and children, away.

The front door swings open and a disheveled and soaked Sehun appears. “Hi.”

Luhan just keeps his focus on him.

Sehun puts his bag on the floor and shakes his head like a dog trying to dry himself off. Luhan comments, “You’re going to get sick.” Sehun pays no mind to his words and brings a chair up. Luhan rolls his eyes and gives Sehun his jacket, “At least change into this.”

Sehun pulls off his wet shirt with no hesitation, before pulling Luhan’s hoodie over his head. “Thanks.”

Luhan smiles, a genuine smile that no one has seen in a long time. Sehun asks, “Does it get lonely here?”

Luhan briefly considers lying and saying no. But Sehun has been so nice to him; he thinks lying to him would be somewhat of a betrayal. “Sometimes. It used to a lot. Not anymore, though.”

Sehun leans forward on the counter, his face close to Luhan’s. Luhan stares him in the eye, and Sehun grabs his face, kissing him. When he pulls away, Luhan has a slight smile. Sehun grins back, pulling out his homework.

-

Luhan’s reorganizing books when someone comes up behind him and turns him around. His first thought is to fight back but he sees Sehun’s eyes and instantly calms down. Sehun kisses him again. But this time, Luhan wraps his arms around his neck. Sehun presses him against the bookshelf, holding his hips.

“Will you show me your necklace?” Luhan pushes Sehun away, shaking his head. “Why not?”

“Because you won’t look at me the same.”

“Please, Luhan.”

Luhan pulls it out from under the collar of his shirt. Sehun reaches out, holding it in his hand. Luhan lowers his head, “I told you.” He expects Sehun to make up a half-assed excuse to leave, but instead, Sehun just cups the side of his face and presses his lips to his cheek.

-

Luhan doesn’t think Sehun would come back after that. Much to his surprise, Sehun does. He acts the same. He doesn’t treat Luhan like he’s weak, like he’s dying.

Sehun doesn’t pull up a chair as he usually does. Instead, he asks, “Will you come get bubble tea with me?”

Luhan looks at the clock. He can take a lunch break. People don’t come in anyways. “Okay.”

As they walk, Sehun laces their fingers together so Luhan doesn’t drift away in the crowd of people. Luhan squeezes his hand, putting his head on Sehun’s shoulder.

-

The two of them going out becomes a frequent thing. Sehun takes Luhan for bubble tea, coffee, and ice cream.

He lives for the moments when Luhan beams at him, his aura nothing but pure sunshine.

Sehun notices slight changes in Luhan’s posture and in his face. He seems to stand up straighter. He looks less tired. He wants to ask Luhan about his orb again, but thinks one time was enough.

-

Sehun spends the night at Luhan’s apartment the following Saturday. They watch movies until midnight, and then go to Luhan’s room to sleep.

Luhan nuzzles his face against Sehun’s chest, feeling Sehun run his fingers through his hair. Luhan peers up at him and Sehun whispers, “Let me see?”

Luhan nods, and Sehun carefully pulls his necklace out. Sehun says his name and Luhan looks down at his orb, the light flickering.

Luhan just kisses Sehun. He kisses him until they’re both gasping for air, fisting their hands in each other’s shirts.

Luhan buries his face in the crook of Sehun’s neck and lets himself cry. He sobs, tears falling onto Sehun’s skin. Sehun rubs his back comfortingly.

Luhan says, “I was going to die.”

“I know.” Sehun brings a hand up and wipes at Luhan’s cheeks.

Luhan smiles and shuts his eyes, “Thank you.”

-

Within a week, Luhan’s orb is as bright as Sehun’s. He wears it outside of his shirt, no longer ashamed. In fact, he’s extremely proud.

Sehun does his homework while Luhan tries to distract him. Luhan waves his hand in front of his face and Sehun grabs his wrist, pulling him close and kissing his jaw.

“Hyung, if you let me do my work for ten more minutes I’ll buy you bubble tea.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Luhan brushes Sehun’s hair from his eyes, “Fine.”

Sad Eyes

2012-12-24T01:27:49Z

Title: Sad Eyes
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Taemin/Minho
Summary: Photographer/Model AU. 3.3k words. It’s a shame how someone so young can be so dead.
Warnings: Self-harm, anorexia, mentions of bulimia.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Crystal Castles. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

The click of the shutter. The flash. The sound of people shuffling, clothes falling onto the floor.

Minho has worked with hundreds of models. He’s only worked with three of them more than once. He doesn’t mind. It’s not like he’s friends with any of them. Except Key.

Today, it’s a young boy. Minho is kind of alarmed by how small he looks. He turns to Jinki and whispers, “How old is this kid?”

“Nineteen. His name’s Taemin.” They both glance over at him, and Jinki says, “It’s a shame.”

“What?”

“How someone so young can be so dead.”

Minho nods understandingly. Taemin is sickly thin, and even from here, Minho can see his eyes are completely lifeless. He lets the stylist move him around, and Minho manages to see scars on his thin legs when she tells him to change his pants.

Jinki shakes his head, “Poor kid.”

Minho has worked with one other person like this before. A twenty year old girl three years ago. He brought lunch for everyone, and heard the girl in the bathroom twenty minutes later, shoving her fingers down her throat to rid herself of the food. He never spoke to her again, but saw her in another magazine a few months ago, and she looked like she was doing well. He almost didn’t recognize her, until he saw her name. He’s glad there’s help for people who need it.

A hand stretches out in front of him, and Minho looks up, shaking it.

“I’m Taemin.”

“Minho.”

-

Taemin is quiet overall. He obediently does what Minho tells him to do. Tilt your head to the left a bit, try to relax your jaw.

Jinki brings lunch, and Minho’s almost too busy stuffing his face to notice that Taemin’s sitting in the corner, fiddling with his fingers.

“You’re not gonna eat?” Taemin politely declines, and Minho says, “I’ll leave some for you, in case you want some later.”

Taemin forces a smile and Minho walks away, hearing him sigh.

-

Minho sees the makeup artist putting powder on Taemin’s arms. Curious, he asks her what she’s doing. Taemin jumps at the sound of his voice and the artist says, “Covering up.”

Minho swears he sees something flicker in Taemin’s eyes, but it’s gone so quickly, he almost thinks he’s delusional.

When Taemin’s changing outfits again, Minho inadvertently stares at Taemin’s thighs. Taemin turns, and Minho averts his gaze to Taemin’s face, only to see him staring back at him.

Jinki calls for Minho to help with the props, and Minho goes, feeling his face go red.

-

“But you’re fine!”

He hears Key laugh through the phone, “Not everyone’s strong, Minho. It’s an ugly business. It ruins people.”

Minho groans and falls face first onto the couch. “He’s just a kid! He’s too young to be like that.”

“I know. But there’s nothing you can do. People either fix themselves or die. Are you working with him tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we’re finishing up the shoot. Why?”

“Don’t get involved. It might ruin you, too.”

-

Minho is fortunate to have found his job. He’s only twenty six, but he’s been working here for four years and was one of the youngest successful photographers in the country when he started.

“Taemin you can’t keep doing that!”

Minho, startled by the noise, pushes past a few people and reaches Taemin, who’s standing next to a seemingly frustrated Jessica.

Jessica’s eyes soften when Taemin frowns, “You’re too young for this.”

“Is everything alright over here?”

Taemin’s looking at the floor, his right arm clutched to his chest. Jessica takes her hand off of his shoulder, “It’s fine, Minho. I just—nothing. It’s okay.” She sighs and turns back to Taemin, helping him put on a coat.

But Minho manages to see the fresh wounds decorating his arm. Jessica says, “There you go,” urging him towards Minho.

Minho puts his hand on the small of Taemin’s back, noticing the way Taemin leans into him as they head to the set.

-

It’s exactly one o’clock when Taemin falls.

Minho’s eyes widen and he’s by his side in seconds, signaling for someone to bring him water. He says Taemin’s name over and over, feeling his pulse point. Taemin blinks up at Minho, taking the bottle that’s offered to him. “When’s the last time you had a proper meal?”

“I can’t answer that.”

Minho huffs, “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“Two days ago? I think.”

Minho calls for a break, before helping Taemin up and telling him to go change.

Taemin comes back a little disoriented, but in the clothes he was in when he arrived.

“We’re going out.”

“Where?”

Minho wraps his arm around Taemin’s shoulders, “Out.”

-

“Minho, no.”

“You need to eat something.”

Taemin’s voice sounds weak as he whispers, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Trust me.” Taemin stares at the plate of salad like it’s his worst enemy. Minho pushes it closer to him, “Just a little bit. It’ll be alright. Salad’s good for you anyway.”

“You’re just like Jessica noona.”

“Jessica cares about you.”

Taemin picks up his fork, “I know. I think she’s the only one that does.”

“I do, too.”

Taemin smiles. And it’s an honest smile. It hits him from ear to ear and Minho thinks he’s stunning.

-

“You did what?”

“I invited him over?”

Key scoffs, “Minho, what did I tell you? You are so fucked.”

“He’s a nice kid. I want to help him before he destroys himself.”

“From what you’ve told me, he already has.”

-

Minho makes something to eat for when Taemin comes over, knowing he won’t eat beforehand.

There’s a tentative knock on the door at eight and Minho rushes to answer it, beaming at Taemin and leading him in.

“There’s food if you’re hungry.”

“I’m fine for now.”

Minho tells him to choose a movie, gesturing towards his DVD collection.

Taemin doesn’t show him which one he picks, simply putting it into the player and sitting next to Minho on the sofa.

-

Turns out Taemin likes action movies. He likes movies where the protagonist succeeds and saves the girl and they get a happy ending. The movie Taemin chose is one of Minho’s favorites, and they laughed at all the same parts, until Taemin got quiet halfway through.

Minho looks down at Taemin, who’s asleep on his shoulder. He’s probably exhausted from rushing to photo shoot after photo shoot all week. Minho doesn’t blame him. The bright lights are tiring. They make you dizzy and they make you sweat. Minho brushes the hair from Taemin’s face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

He feels Taemin nuzzle his nose against the collar of his shirt, his hand curling around his forearm and pulling him closer. Seeing him like this, Minho feels even worse for him. He’s just an innocent kid that’s going through too much for him to handle. He doesn’t deserve it.

-

“You’re older than me, right?” Minho nods and Taemin grins, “Minho hyung.”

Minho comments, “You haven’t touched your cereal.” Taemin shifts uncomfortably, staring down at his bowl. “Just a little, Taemin.”

“I have a photo shoot later. I can’t.”

“You do? But it’s Sunday.”

“It’s rare for me to get a full day off. Yesterday I got here late because I was modeling.”

“You need to ask for a break.”

Taemin twirls his spoon between his fingers, “That’s what Jessica noona says. She’s tried doing it for me. No one listens to her, though.” He takes a bite of his cereal, slightly pushing Minho’s foot under the table.

Minho pushes back, giving him a smile.

-

Minho doesn’t hear from Taemin for the next few days. He suspects he’s busy with work. He picks up his phone a few times to call him, but always decides against it.

Taemin’s name flashes on his phone on Thursday, and he sounds terrible.

“Taemin? What’s wrong with you?”

“I feel sick. Noona set me up for some recovery class. I’ve been going all week. I don’t want to go anymore, hyung.”

Minho rubs his face, slightly relieved. “Taemin, you’re not going to like me saying this.” Taemin makes an exasperated noise and Minho continues, “I think you need it.” Taemin definitely isn’t a healthy weight, and something needs to be done about the abuse he puts his skin through. “Just go, Taemin-ah. If not for you, do it for me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

-

“Who’s the model today?”

Jinki looks down at his clipboard, “Lee Taemin. He was here two months ago.”

“What?”

“Hi, hyung.”

Minho spins around at the sound of the familiar voice and surely enough, there’s Taemin. He appears a little tired, but has a happy expression, and in the background, Jessica is struggling with what clothes to choose, clumsily dropping some of it.

He wraps his arms around Taemin, catching him off guard. “I’m glad you’re working with me again.”

“The last magazine liked your work.”

“They obviously liked you too.”

Taemin’s cheeks flush a light pink and Minho feels something unrecognizable in his gut.

-

Taemin willingly goes to buy lunch with Minho. Taemin’s skin looks brighter away from the artificial lights of the studio. His skin looks less like a zombie’s, more like porcelain. More like a young boy, more alive.

Their fingers brush and Minho takes a chance, grabbing his hand. He sneaks a glance and Taemin’s looking down at the ground as they walk, the corners of his mouth tilted upwards.

Minho makes a mental note to photograph him outside.

-

“Just a little bit this way,” Minho suggests. He grabs Taemin’s shoulders, maneuvering him towards the window for the natural light. Taemin has an amused look in his eyes, and moves easily with Minho.

Something flashes and Minho whirls around, “What are you doing?”

Jinki shrugs and smirks, lowering the camera. “Having fun.”

“We need to get this done.” He whispers to Taemin, “What are you doing after this?”

“I have to go to my class.”

Minho hums and adjusts Taemin’s tie and jacket, “Will you stop by afterwards? Stop by my apartment, that is.”

“I’d like that.”

-

Minho cooks dinner, and is happy to see Taemin eating, albeit tentatively. Taemin tells him about his recovery teacher, opening up in a way Minho never thought he’d see. “At first, she’d make me mad because of how she’d talk to me. But now I realize she’s just trying to help me.”

Afterwards, Taemin asks if he can use Minho’s shower. Minho nods, and gives him some clothes, telling him to take his time.

Minho’s extremely sleepy and he collapses on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes before letting his eyes close.

The next thing he registers is warmth. His blanket gets dragged upwards to his chin, and the bed dips. Minho sniffles and pulls Taemin against his chest, breathing into his soft hair. Taemin slides his arm around his waist, getting comfortable.

-

Minho begins to think his bed is in the worst possible spot in the room when he feels the sun hitting his eyelids. But there’s pleasant air grazing his lips and when he opens his eyes, Taemin’s face is right beside his.

Taemin mumbles, “Hyung.” His hand comes up and cups the side of Minho’s face. Minho thinks, fuck it, and presses his lips to Taemin’s. Taemin curls his hand around the back of Minho’s neck, bringing him closer. He lets out a small noise and Minho squeezes his hip, pulling him flush against him.

“Taemin-ah.”

“Don’t leave me.”

Minho tangles his fingers in Taemin’s hair, “I won’t.”

-

“We never hang out anymore.”

Minho nods, taking a sip of his drink, “You’re busy, I’m busy. Glad we could make time though.”

Key beckons the bartender and asks for another beer, “When’s the last time you went out, huh?”

“Like this? I don’t know.” Minho flips a page in his magazine, “A few months.”

Key leans closer and looks at the pictures with Minho. He comments, “Your photography is better.” Minho grins and shakes his head, turning the page yet again. “It’s weird being able to recognize yours. That’s yours right there.”

Minho nods, “That’s Taemin.” It’s from the first photo shoot they did together. Minho has a hard time believing they met almost five months ago.

Key gives Minho a hard stare, “That’s the kid?”

“Yeah. Listen, Key. He’s getting better. He’s in a recovery class and he’s really trying. This picture’s pretty old.”

“What’s going on between you two?”

Minho downs the rest of his beer, alcohol stinging the back of his throat, “I don’t really know. I kissed him.”

“You what?”

“He slept over and in the morning, I kissed him.”

Key gets an incredulous look on his face. “How old is he?” Minho opens his mouth but Key puts a hand up, “Wait, I’m not drunk enough for this. Bartender!”

“He’s nineteen.”

Key pats his shoulder, “At least he’s old enough for you.” Minho kicks his shin in response. “I’m just saying! He looks underage.”

“In that picture he does.” Minho analyzes it for a second, “He looks healthier now.”

“Try to get laid tonight, yeah?” Minho holds back a laugh as Key gets up, “I’m going to dance.”

“You do that.”

-

Minho’s phone rings at two in the morning. He has a slight headache from drinking, and maybe he’s still drunk, and his eyes are half closed, but he answers anyway.

Immediately, a voice asks, “Can I come over?”

More aware, Minho sits up in his bed, “Taemin?”

“Please? My parents are fighting and I can’t be here right now.”

“Of course.”

-

“You still live with your parents?”

Taemin nods against his chest, “I don’t have enough money to move out yet. I’m getting there, though. With all of the photo shoots I’ve been doing.”

“You can stay here for the time being.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

Minho rubs his back and says, “Of course you could. Don’t be silly.”

Taemin tilts his head up and places his hand on Minho’s arm, kissing him. Taemin’s gentle, and his lips are softer than silk. Taemin’s fingers tangle themselves in his hair and Minho says, “I might be a little drunk still.”

“You taste like alcohol.” Taemin laughs and says, “Did you party it up?”

“Not really.” When Key went to dance, Minho downed a couple more beers, and he kept his magazine open to the page with Taemin’s picture on it. He’d ask every person who sat next to him if they thought Taemin was beautiful, and if they said no, he’d narrow his eyes and clutch the magazine to his chest. “I’m not a party person.” Taemin plays with the hem of Minho’s shirt and Minho rests his head against the pillow, “I have a headache.”

“You’re probably going to have a bad hangover in the morning.” Minho groans and buries his face in the crook of Taemin’s neck. Taemin cards his fingers through his hair, “Just go to sleep.”

Minho kisses his neck, “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

Taemin pets his head, “Just sleep, hyung.”

-

Seeing Taemin eating with almost no problem, Minho finds himself asking, “How long have you been in that recovery class now?”

Taemin looks up from his food, “Four or five months, I think. It’s almost over.”

“You seem to be doing well.”

“My teacher says I’m right on track. She says I can make a full recovery.”

Minho smiles, “That’s great, Taemin-ah.” He adds, “I’m proud of you.”

Taemin brightens considerably, “You are?”

“Yeah. You’ve come really far.”

Taemin leans over the table and Minho meets him halfway, grabbing his face and pressing their mouths together.

-

Taemin gets a day off and he spends it at Minho’s dorm, lazing around in shorts and a tank top.

His head’s on Minho’s lap as Minho idly traces the old scars on his arm, fingertips trailing lightly across his skin. Taemin reaches up and pinches Minho’s nose, grinning at him.

The show they’re watching cuts to commercial, and Taemin mutters, “I used to dance, you know.”

“What made you stop?”

“Modeling. I kind of want to take it up again, but I don’t think I’d be any good.”

“You can always learn again.”

“That’s true. I’ve just been so busy.”

Minho twirls Taemin’s hair between his fingers, “You can do whatever you want.” Taemin picks at a button on Minho’s shirt, pressing his face against his stomach.

-

“So, guess who I met.” Minho raises an eyebrow and Key leans back on the couch, “Lee Taemin.”

“You met him?”

“We did a shoot together. He seems nice. He’s a little weird, though, doesn’t talk much.”

“He talks when you get to know him.”

Key shoves his hand into Minho’s bowl of chips, shoveling them into his mouth. He changes the channel, earning a sound of displeasure from Minho. “Oh shut up. I hardly ever watch television anymore.” Minho rolls his eyes and throws a chip at Key’s face. “Don’t start with me, Choi Minho.”

Minho bites his lip to keep from laughing and Key smacks him with a cushion.

-

Taemin pulls Minho down by his collar, wrapping his legs around his waist. Minho’s repeating his name but Taemin’s mumbling please into his mouth.

“I’ve got you, it’s alright.”

Minho works on unbuttoning Taemin’s jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers when Taemin lifts his hips. Minho can fit his hands comfortably on his waist. He’s not as bony as he was when they first met, he’s soft now, and he looks like he fits in his own body.

He pushes Taemin’s shirt up, taking it off and kissing his cheek. Taemin grabs Minho’s shoulders, sliding his hands down his chest and pulling off his hoodie.

It doesn’t take long before Minho’s just as unclothed as Taemin, and he’s running his lips along his neck, feeling Taemin shudder under his touch.

Taemin’s fingers curl carefully around his wrist, and Minho moves to thread their fingers together. Minho mouths at Taemin’s collar bone, feeling him tense. Taemin shakily says his name and Minho squeezes his hand, using his other hand to wrap around his cock.

Taemin arches up into him, breathing against his hair. He presses his thigh up between Minho’s legs, hearing him let out a low noise. He fists a hand in Minho’s hair, staring at him with desperate eyes.

Minho could get lost in him. Minho wants to trace every part of his body with his fingertips. He’s seen him at his worst; he wants to see what he can accomplish at his best. He wants to see the sunshine radiate off of his skin. He wants to breathe him in.

Taemin makes little whimpers when Minho flicks his wrist, pushing up into his fist. He leans up and Minho kisses him, licking his way into his mouth. Taemin hooks his arms around his neck, trying to bring Minho in even closer.

He presses his nose to Minho’s jaw, gasping out his name as he comes over Minho’s hand. Minho thinks he’ll remember that sound for the rest of his life.

Taemin weakly pushes Minho to the side, and Minho manages to catch a glimpse of his flushed cheeks before he sucks a mark into his neck as he goes to return the favor.

-

“Stay here.”

Minho looks at the clock, he has to be at work in two hours. He glances at Taemin. Half asleep, hair disheveled against the pillow, sleep lines on his cheek.

He decides to lie back, letting Taemin mold himself against his chest. “Okay. I have to be up soon, though.”

Taemin hums, “Yeah. Just for a little while.”

Minho rubs his back, pressing down and tracing his spine.

Seeing Taemin like this, Minho knows exactly what he feels. He knows what he felt before. He knows what he felt the second he met Taemin.

The words sit on the tip of his tongue, and he’s tempted to let them out.

I’m so ridiculously in love with you, he thinks.

Taemin mutters, “I love you too, hyung.”

Minho tightens his arms around his waist, grinning uncontrollably against Taemin’s shoulder.

It’s In My Bones

2012-12-03T19:51:31Z

Title: It’s In My Bones
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sehun/Kai
Summary: 811 words. It’s different with them.
Warnings: BDSM
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Breathe Carolina. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

It’s different with them. Everyone knows that. But they don’t know why.

They don’t know that Jongin is what Sehun needs. They don’t know that Jongin will tear Sehun apart only to put him back together again, and Sehun enjoys every single second of it. Jongin is more than just a person to Sehun. He’s his air.

Sehun clenches his fists, arching his back. His face is buried in the sheets, his body over Jongin’s lap, hands tied behind his back. He’s sore from their performance. But he knows this is just the beginning.

Jongin’s hand comes down hard for the tenth and final time, making Sehun’s already red ass send pain through his body.

Sehun writhes and Jongin runs his hand over the abused skin, hearing Sehun let out a sigh of relief.

Jongin maneuvers them so Sehun’s face down against the pillows, on his knees, legs spread just enough for Jongin to situate himself between them.

“You’ve been good.”

The corners of Sehun’s mouth tilt up and Jongin kisses the base of his spine, making him shiver. Jongin nips at the back of his thigh, smoothing his hand over Sehun’s leg.

Sehun wiggles his hips and Jongin tells him to stay put, grabbing the lube and coating his fingers. Sehun makes a low noise as Jongin slides one in, pushing back against him.

Jongin can hear Sehun’s breath hitch, can hear the tiny whimper that unwillingly escapes his lips. He roughly adds another finger, seeing Sehun’s back move.

He uses his other hand to stroke Sehun’s cock, “You think you can come like this?”

“I—yes.”

Jongin won’t do that to him, though. Sehun’s complied to everything he’s done, and Jongin thinks he deserves to be rewarded.

“What if the others knew how good you were for me? You think they’d get jealous?” Sehun doesn’t respond and Jongin curls his fingers, making him cry out.

“I don’t know.”

“They all probably think you’re just some spoiled maknae. I know you, Sehun-ah. You’re more than that.”

Sehun lets out a whine and Jongin pulls his hands away, placing them on Sehun’s hips as he pushes in.

Sehun breathes out against the pillow, his eyes closing.

Jongin knows every dip and curve of Sehun’s body. He knows if he nuzzles his nose in the crook of his neck, Sehun’s hands will come up and tangle themselves in his hair. He knows if he angles himself just right, Sehun will cry out and arch his back. He knows Sehun like the back of his hand, but will never use it against him in a malicious manner.

Sehun pushes back, meeting Jongin’s thrusts. He bites his lip to muffle his whimpers, hands clasped together tightly.

“Everyone always says you’re so pretty. I know you hate it.” Sehun hums in response and Jongin continues, “I wonder if they’d still say the same if they saw you right now.” Jongin drapes himself over Sehun’s back, lips pressed to his ear, “Because I think you’re beautiful.”

Sehun makes a helpless noise that sounds like a mix between a moan and a whine, and Jongin sits back up, his pace becoming erratic.

He reaches around and grabs Sehun’s cock, stroking him quickly and twisting his wrist. He runs his thumb through the precome leaking from the slit, and Sehun bucks his hips, “Jongin hyung—”

Sehun’s close. He’s so close, teetering on the edge. Jongin says, “Come.”

Sehun lets out a rush of air, coming over Jongin’s hand. Jongin wipes his hand on Sehun’s hip. Sehun simply lies there, feeling Jongin slowly pull out and get himself off against the small of his back.

Sehun gets pushed onto his side, and Jongin undoes the tie binding his wrists. He’s sticky but all he can think of is going to sleep.

Jongin pats his head and asks, “Should I set up a bath?”

“Can I do it in the morning?”

“Yeah.” Sehun presses his face to Jongin’s chest, sliding a leg between his thighs for comfort. Jongin kisses his forehead, lightly trailing his fingers along his side to calm him.

He uses his feet to kick up the blanket, covering both of them and wrapping an arm around Sehun’s waist.

Sehun’s whole body is thrumming. He’s suddenly hyper aware of his sore muscles and backside. He whispers, “Everything hurts.”

Jongin suddenly gets up from the bed, leaving Sehun cold under the sheets. He comes back with a bottle of water and some pain killers, which Sehun happily takes. “Thank you.”

Jongin nods and turns off the bedside lamp and Sehun resumes his previous position, shutting his eyes.

Jongin stays up until Sehun’s breathing evens out, and his lips part slightly, signaling that he’s fast asleep. Only then does Jongin allow himself to drift off, holding Sehun in his arms, feeling his small puffs of breath against his chest.

10 textures

2012-11-21T17:42:31Z

Download here
Credit zeropercent
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icons

2012-11-20T19:11:58Z

Most of these were taken from some graphics I made over on Tumblr c:

[1-30] EXO

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026	027	028	029	030

If you use these, please credit this journal.
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Resources

10 700x500 Textures

2012-11-10T03:17:40Z

Download here
Credit zeropercent
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We've Got Obsessions

2012-11-01T19:39:03Z

Title: We’ve Got Obsessions
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Minho/Taemin
Summary: 3,400+ words. Minho does not do well with people.
Warnings: Self-harm.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Marina & The Diamonds. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

Minho does not do well with people. Others don’t understand. They simply tell him to not be that way. But it’s impossible for him to not be that way. It’s etched into his brain, scars that won’t go away. Scars like the ones on his body. Painful reminders of sharp words that dug into his skin and let venom flow into his veins.

He paints. Bright red paint on a white canvas. Slashes of red all over until the white is no longer visible. He does it until his eyes stop focusing and he becomes dizzy. He puts his brush down and sits on the edge of his bed, alternating between staring at the easel and his arms.

His bedroom is a mess. The walls and floor splattered with mixed paints, shoes and clothes strewn about carelessly, crumpled up pieces of paper with half-finished drawings. He thinks it’s a fair depiction of his life.

The fumes from the paint make him nauseous, and he opens his window to air out the room a bit. He falls onto his bed, shutting his eyes and falling asleep.

-

Every day is the same. Same flavor of coffee every morning, same Seoul streets, same seven to five schedule. His occupation doesn’t really suit him. You wouldn’t take a look at him and say he’s a florist. But it’s quiet. Not many people come in, and those who do aren’t looking for conversation, just business.

A man looking for roses for his wife. A woman buying daisies for her sick friend. Minho gets things done quickly, so he can be alone once again.

“Um, hello.”

Minho rubs his tired eyes and the stranger fidgets in a way that makes Minho uncomfortable. “How can I help you?”

“I’m just looking for some flowers for my friend. Tulips, I think. In any color.” He looks younger than Minho, with full lips and honey colored hair.

Minho gathers the tulips and before the boy leaves, he smiles, and Minho finds himself remembering it for the rest of the day.

When he goes to his apartment, there’s a purple tulip petal on his doorstep and Minho has to blink a few times to make sure he’s not just imagining things.

-

When he has a day off, he goes to the lake. He brings his sketchpad and gets away from the city. It’s two hours away from anything, in a secluded area.

Sometimes, like today, he doesn’t even draw anything, too lost in his thoughts. He lies in the grass and stares at how the vivid green contrasts with his pale scars. He looks away and for a moment, swears he sees something in the distance. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

He likes the feel of the sunshine hitting his skin, warming him to the core. It makes me feel as if he’s more than what he is.

Minho unintentionally drifts off, and dreams of the boy from the flower shop.

-

Life is silly, Minho thinks. You’re born, and you work so hard your entire life. And then you die. Suddenly, everything you’ve ever worked for means nothing. When he was younger, his parents would tell him to enjoy life because it’s short. Minho would always snicker at them and retreat back to his room, where he’d bury himself under the sheets.

Old habits die hard.

He turns in his bed and sighs. It’s just past noon and he has his blinds closed, his blankets pulled up to his nose. He sits up and grabs a brush, carefully painting the face that has been stuck in his head for the past week.

-

Minho likes when it rains, since the flower shop gets about one or two customers for the entire day. He sits at the cash register with his head on the counter, his eyes fixed on the wall, where the paint is starting to chip.

“Hello again.” Minho looks up and feels his words catch in his throat as he takes in the familiar face. The boy smiles and says, “Can I have a dozen white roses?”

Minho nods and wraps them in a bouquet, and when the boy hands Minho his credit card, Minho makes sure to glance at the name.

Lee Taemin.

-

Minho’s medicine cabinet is full of pain killers and bandages. Sometimes he has to wrap his arm with gauze, crimson liquid seeping through. He hisses and takes some pills to numb everything. He collapses onto his bed, losing awareness.

He thinks he either fell asleep or lost consciousness when he opens his eyes and sees light seeping through the window.

He sits up and looks down only to see his sheets and arm covered in dry blood. He curses under his breath and goes to wash his arm in the sink. He bandages himself up again and gets ready for work.

It’s raining again, and Minho can’t be bothered to go back and get an umbrella. He tries to cover his arm so the gauze doesn’t get wet as he walks down the half empty street. He really wishes he had worn a long sleeved shirt.

He pushes his wet hair back when he enters the shop, turning the lights on and flipping the sign from closed to open.

He picks at the wooden countertop, breaking off little pieces. The door opens and Minho briefly wonders who in their right mind needs flowers at seven in the morning.

A simple, “Hi,” and Minho knows who it is. Shoes squeak against the tile as he walks towards the register, and Minho takes in Taemin’s drenched appearance. Somehow, he’s still as radiant as the first day he came in and flashed Minho a smile. “You forgot an umbrella too?”

Minho nods and Taemin asks, “What happened to your arm?”

Almost automatically, Minho says, “I fell.” Taemin makes a noise and Minho waits for him to tell him which kind of flowers he’d like.

But Taemin doesn’t. He just says, “Well, bye.”

Minho just blinks and wonders if he just imagined the whole thing.

-

Minho never gets mail that isn’t bills. So he doesn’t check his mailbox very frequently. At least once a week, though.

He opens his mailbox only to see two dried up flowers sitting on top of a couple envelopes. He pulls them out and even though they’re shriveled up, he can tell what kinds they are.

A tulip and a rose.

-

“What’s your name?” Minho doesn’t respond and Taemin crosses his arms over his chest, “Do you hate me?” Minho shakes his head and Taemin carefully reaches out to grab Minho’s chin so he can look at him. “You’re lonely.”

Minho sniggers but Taemin doesn’t let go. Taemin’s frowning, and Minho wishes he wouldn’t look at him that way, since it makes him feel guilty.

Taemin whispers, “I know.”

Minho tries to make his voice stable as he says, “I think you should leave.”

-

“Your name’s Minho.”

“How do you know that?” Minho stands and Taemin gets closer, until Minho can feel his breath hitting his lips.

“You drew me.”

Minho clenches his fists and grits his teeth, “Who are you?” Taemin shrugs, and Minho says, “You watched me.” It was Taemin. That day at the lake. Minho is sure of it. Taemin’s eyes seem to soften and Minho doesn’t know why his heart is beating at a million miles per minute, trying to get out of his chest. His palms start to sweat and he backs away from Taemin, but Taemin only moves with him. “Get out.”

Taemin cups the sides of Minho’s face, and Minho brings his hands up to pry them away. Taemin grabs his arm and Minho recoils from the pain. “I’m sorry.” He gently pulls back Minho’s sleeve and lightly traces his wounds. “Come get coffee with me.”

“I have to work.”

“You’re tired, though.” Taemin lets out a small laugh, “That’s alright.” He leaves a kiss on Minho’s cheek before walking away, leaving Minho shaking against the wall, his palms sweaty and his breathing harsh.

-

Minho considers turning the opposite direction and running when he sees Taemin outside of the flower shop before opening. But Taemin sees him and then it’s too late.

Minho brushes past him and unlocks the door, going through his usual routine of opening up shop.

He feels Taemin behind him and he quickly turns, fisting his hands in Taemin’s shirt and pulling him close, “What do you want with me?”

“To make you happy.”

Minho lets go of him and Taemin hooks his arms around his neck, putting his mouth to his ear, “Let me. Please?”

“I’m going to hurt you.”

“I don’t care.”

Minho turns his head and Taemin presses their lips together. Oddly enough, Minho can’t bring himself to pull away. Taemin’s lips are soft and he’s warm and he’s everything Minho has deprived himself of. Taemin’s fingers find their way to his hair and Minho puts his hands on his hips, bringing him in.

-

Minho can’t bring himself to paint or draw anything that isn’t Taemin. He groans and kicks at the papers on his floor, grabbing his coat and keys and leaving the apartment.

He doesn’t have a specific place in mind, but he realizes his feet are taking him to the lake once he’s on the bus.

The leaves are falling off of the trees, and the wind is blowing them into the lake. He hears them crunch under his shoes as he makes his way to his usual spot, noticing that there’s someone there.

He sits next to Taemin, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Taemin leans into him and nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck, Minho takes a deep breath and Taemin rubs his back in a soothing manner.

“Did you know I was going to be here?”

Taemin nods, “I felt it.” He squeezes Minho’s thigh and asks, “Does your arm still hurt?”

“Not really.”

The sunset makes everything seem warmer, and as it reflects off of the water, Minho realizes that it’s not giving him comfort. Taemin is.

What Taemin does to him is strange. His stomach gets tied up in knots, and his hands long for his touch. In reality, he doesn’t know Taemin. But at the same time, he feels like Taemin is all he knows.

Taemin looks at him, and runs the tips of his fingers along Minho’s cheekbone, over the bags under his eyes, traces his jaw.

There’s a sudden gust of wind and Taemin shivers, curling up into Minho. Minho unbuttons his coat and shares it with him, getting a kiss in return.

Minho says, “Come home with me.”

-

Taemin doesn’t seem to care that Minho’s apartment is a wreck. He just seems happy to be there.

In the bedroom, though, Taemin has to bite his lip to keep from mentioning the blood stained sheets on the floor. He stares at the half finished art scattered everywhere, and the easel captures his attention.

Minho forgot that he was in the middle of painting Taemin, and he can feel himself get red. “That’s you.”

Taemin steps over a couple of things and hooks his arm around Minho’s, “It’s stunning.”

“When the subject is beautiful it tends to reflect in the art.”

Taemin smiles gratefully and Minho thinks the whole room lights up a bit more.

-

Having someone to wake up next to is something Minho never thought he’d have. He props himself up on an elbow and can’t help but gaze at Taemin. The way he breathes through slightly parted lips, his eyelashes fluttering, his light hair a mess against the pillow. It’s all breathtaking to Minho.

Taemin stirs and yawns, stretching. He glances at Minho’s arm, and then at his face. He comments, “You were looking at me, weren’t you.”

“Maybe.”

Taemin throws a leg over Minho’s waist and wraps himself around him, “Go back to sleep.”

Minho doesn’t argue.

-

They go back to the lake later in the day, and they lie in the grass, fingers linked together. Minho turns and Taemin furrows his eyebrows, reaching up to wipe at Minho’s cheeks. “Minho?”

Minho hides his face in Taemin’s shoulder and shakes his head, sniffling.

“What’s bothering you?”

Taemin smoothes his hand down his back and kisses the side of his head. Minho’s voice is quiet when he speaks, “You know, my parents would have liked you.”

“Yeah? I’m glad.”

Minho likes that he doesn’t have to go into further explanation. Taemin understands.

-

Minho wakes up to the smell of coffee, and he sluggishly gets out of bed, only to see Taemin standing in the kitchen, wearing his clothes. And the whole scene seems kind of surreal. He feels like he’s either dreaming or in a movie, the edges of his vision blurred.

“Taemin?”

Taemin doesn’t turn around, but Minho can see a ghost of a smile on his face, “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”

Minho’s a little taken back, “No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.” Taemin gives him a cup, and Minho tries to think of a time where he’s said Taemin’s name, to no avail.

And of course Taemin knows exactly how he likes his coffee. He laughs loudly, making Taemin jump.

“What?”

“You just—you know everything about me, don’t you?”

“Kind of.”

Minho wants to ask how, but he can’t find the words.

-

Minho paints and Taemin watches in awe. There’s a comfortable silence between the two. Taemin’s on the bed, wrapped in the blankets, Minho’s sitting in front of the easel.

After two hours, Minho’s hand starts to cramp up and he drops his brush. Taemin says, “Come to bed.”

Minho complies, putting away his things and joining him. Taemin grabs his hand and gently rubs circles into his palm, humming in his ear.

Minho puts his hand on the back of Taemin’s neck, playing with his hair. Taemin rests his head on Minho’s pillow, his breath hitting Minho’s jaw. He kisses Minho’s cheek, tracing patterns into his chest until they both fall asleep.

-

The days at the flower shop go by quickly now. Occasionally, Taemin will come in and check up on him. Sometimes he brings sweets.

“Where do you work, Taemin?”

“The bakery.”

Taemin pulls up a stool and sits next to Minho as they share some pancakes. Minho makes a comment about the cold weather, and how it’s going to begin snowing soon.

“We should go to the lake when it freezes over.”

“I’d like that.”

-

Taemin fists his hands in Minho’s shirt desperately, pushing him up against the wall. He bites at his neck and Minho grabs at his hips, melting into his touch.

Taemin says, “I really like you.”

Minho studies his face, as if he’s trying to see if Taemin is lying or not. “I really like you, too.”

Taemin seems satisfied and he presses their mouths together, his legs tangled with Minho’s.

-

Minho wakes up alone, and Taemin doesn’t show up to the flower shop all day, and Minho’s mind automatically jumps to the worst case scenario.

Taemin realized Minho’s nothing. He realized Minho has too much baggage and he can do better.

He walks home in the cold rain, but the quick and heavy footsteps distinct from all the others behind him make him stop and turn around.

Arms wrap themselves around him, wet hair sticking to his cheek. Minho hugs Taemin tightly, burying his hands in his soggy shirt.

“I had to go to work early. I should have left a note.”

Minho lets out a shaky breath, ignoring the people around him trying to get to their destinations. He pulls back and looks at Taemin, blinking droplets of water from his eyes. Taemin’s completely soaked, his clothing sticking to him like a second skin.

Taemin says, “Let’s go home,” a grin on his face.

Minho nods. And the word rings in his head.

Home.

-

Minho was tentative to let Taemin see under his clothes. But somehow, Taemin convinced him to share a shower with him.

And there’s something odd about Taemin. Aside from the fact that he actually seems to like Minho, he doesn’t treat Minho like he’s full of scars. He doesn’t treat him like he’s a thin sheet of glass like his parents used to.

Taemin is pleasant and considerate. He’s warmhearted and affectionate. Taemin is sunshine personified.

He leans on Minho, pushing his hair away from his face. Minho sighs, his fingers sliding up Taemin’s back only to trace his spine back down.

Taemin squeezes his arm and kisses his collarbone, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

-

Taemin presses his thigh up between Minho’s legs, clutching his shirt. Minho thinks he’s about to lose it any minute because Taemin’s rocking against him, letting out little gasps.

“Minho.”

Minho shoves Taemin’s sweatpants down around his thighs, curling his hand around his cock. And Minho’s never done this with someone else but he figures it can’t be too hard.

Taemin puts his hands on Minho’s hips, pushing up into his fist. He leans down, and Minho captures his lips in a kiss, putting one hand on the nape of his neck. Minho simply does what he would do to himself, running his thumb over the head, pressing softly against the slit. Taemin breathes open mouthed against Minho’s chest and Minho lets go of him for a second, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging it off.

Taemin’s skin is flawless. There’s not a single mark on him and Minho finds himself wanting to make some. He bites his shoulder and Taemin arches his back, breathing out his name. He grabs Minho’s wrist, grinning at him. Minho puts his hand on the bed and Taemin hooks his fingers under the waistband of his pants, dragging them down.

His mouth ghosts over the scars on Minho’s thighs, making Minho shiver and grab the sheets. Taemin looks up at him and reassures him, “It’s fine.”

He wraps his lips around him, and they make eye contact for a second, but Minho throws his head back when Taemin swirls his tongue.

And out of all the people in the entire world, Minho is glad he’s with Taemin. He threads his fingers in his hair, and can’t help but tug a bit. Taemin makes a noise, sucking harder, causing Minho to arch his back and bite his lip.

Taemin keeps it up, drawing delicious moans from Minho, his voice deep. He pulls off, scooting up. Minho’s hand comes between them, grabbing them both. Taemin digs his nails into his shoulder and Minho can’t even bring himself to care.

Touching Taemin was him letting go. Touching Taemin was liberating and he never wants him to leave.

Taemin writhes and says, “I’m close.”

“Me too.”

Minho speeds up his hand and Taemin whimpers, panting hot against Minho’s ear as he comes, taking Minho right with him.

After a minute, Minho reaches for one of his dirty shirts off the floor, wiping his stomach. Taemin rubs his cheek against the pillow and Minho ruffles his hair.

Taemin laughs and Minho thinks this is how things should be.

-

Taemin looks so beautiful, specks of snow falling into his hair. He beams and spins around, falling onto the ground and rolling around. He grabs Minho’s ankle, pulling him down with him.

Minho smiles brightly and Taemin kisses him, smooth lips against chapped ones. He coils himself around him and Minho holds him, feeling the warmth that radiates off of him. He brushes some snow off of Taemin’s coat, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

“Move in with me.”

He can feel Taemin grin, “I pretty much live with you already.”

“Exactly.”

Taemin nods and Minho hugs him tightly, kissing his jaw.

They stay there for a while and it’s as if time stops for them to let them enjoy being together.

-

Taemin wakes up earlier than Minho, and always makes coffee. Sometimes he makes breakfast and wakes Minho up so he can eat before he goes to work.

Taemin thinks Minho’s adorable in the mornings. All tousled hair and pouty lips. He never wakes up with a struggle, but he stays half asleep all throughout breakfast.

He compliments Taemin’s cooking, never failing to make Taemin blush.

Having Taemin around is quite possibly the best thing ever. When he brought his stuff over, he helped Minho clean, and now the apartment is neat and Minho never steps on things scattered on the floor.

Minho starts work an hour before Taemin, but Taemin walks with him to the flower shop anyways. He hangs around until he needs to get to the bakery, kissing him goodbye.

He knows Minho will be there for him when he comes back.

I'm On Fire

2012-10-19T23:48:36Z

Title: I’m On Fire
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jonghyun/Taemin
Summary: A few words, a couple gestures, and Taemin submits.
Warnings: D/s.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Breathe Carolina. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: What is this? I wrote something? It’s been so long since I’ve written. About five months, I believe. I’m just trying to get back into the habit of writing. So um have some short pwp.

Jonghyun grabs a fistful of Taemin’s hair, forcing his head back. Taemin shuts his eyes and leans his body into him. Taemin falls to his knees, unbuckling Jonghyun’s belt. He mouths at his cock through his briefs, his hands on his thighs.

Jonghyun tugs his hair and Taemin looks up at him, placing his hands in his lap. Jonghyun shoves his briefs out of the way, stepping out of them. He curls his hand around the nape of Taemin’s neck, “Get up.”

Taemin complies, and Jonghyun pushes him onto the bed, sucking marks into his neck. Taemin grabs the headboard without being told and Jonghyun grins into his skin, “Good.”

Taemin bucks his hips up and Jonghyun shoves his pants off, pushing his hips into the bed and grinding down against him.

Taemin groans, his arms straining as he tries to not let go.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Taemin nods, instead opting for just keeping his arms above his head.

Jonghyun thinks it’s kind of amazing. A few words, a couple gestures, and Taemin submits. He becomes putty under his touch and lets Jonghyun mold him into whatever he likes. If Jonghyun says jump, Taemin asks how high.

Jonghyun hooks his fingers under the band of Taemin’s underwear, pulling it down and throwing it to the floor. Taemin’s chest is rising and falling dramatically, his breathing harsh and deep.

Jonghyun gets up for a second, and feels Taemin’s eyes following him. He goes to the dresser, throwing two packets onto the bed.

He opens one, squeezing lube onto his fingers. Taemin spreads his thighs and Jonghyun slips two in, knowing he can take it. Taemin’s gaze is fixed on him, his eyes full of lust. He licks his lips and Jonghyun kisses him hard, biting Taemin’s lower lip. He moves his fingers, curling them the way Taemin likes it. Taemin whimpers against his mouth, his hands coming up to the sides of Jonghyun’s face.

Jonghyun doesn’t mention it, since Taemin’s hands feel good on his skin. He twists his wrist, and Taemin cries out, his thighs trembling. He does it again, making Taemin dig his nails into Jonghyun’s shoulders. Jonghyun pulls his fingers out and grabs the second packet, ripping it open and sliding the condom onto his cock. He squeezes the rest of the lube onto his hand, rubbing it on himself before pushing in.

He doesn’t give Taemin time to adjust before he’s grabbing his legs and wrapping them around his waist, starting up a fast pace.

Taemin lets his head fall back as he fists his hands in the sheets. He pants, breathing out Jonghyun’s name.

Jonghyun slides down, his elbows resting next to Taemin’s head, and he grabs his hair, turning his head to the side. He bites his neck, his teeth scraping his skin. Taemin writhes under him, small noises escaping his mouth.

He reaches in between them, touching Taemin’s cock for the first time. He runs his thumb through the precome leaking from the slit, and Taemin shivers, pushing up into his hand.

And Taemin’s so beautiful. Flushed and panting, beads of sweat forming on his face. His hair a mess against the pillow. Seeing him like that is Jonghyun’s favorite part.

Taemin claws his nails down Jonghyun’s back, his legs tightening around his waist. Jonghyun’s animalistic, rough and relentless.

Taemin’s voice cracks as he says, “Hyung. Hyung, please.”

“Wait.”

Taemin closes his eyes, and Jonghyun’s hand speeds up, stroking him in time with his thrusts. He knows, by the way Taemin’s nails are digging into his back that he’s not going to last much longer.

He sits up and pulls out, throwing the condom onto the floor before wrapping a hand around both of them. Taemin comes first, gasping and then going silent. Jonghyun follows right after, pulling Taemin in for a bruising kiss.

Taemin sighs into his mouth and laughs when Jonghyun wipes his stomach with the blanket. He sinks into the bed, tugging Jonghyun down by his wrist.

Jonghyun lies next to him, pressing his lips to the spot below his ear and throwing an arm over his waist. Taemin runs his fingers over his hand, and Jonghyun lets out a warm breath, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Taemin’s neck.

He’s definitely going to feel the scratches on his back in the morning.

icons ♔

2012-10-19T13:25:43Z

[1-6] MBLAQ
[7-25] EXO

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2012-10-07T01:35:14Z

[1] EXO Wallpaper

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icons

2012-10-02T18:49:25Z

[1-7] Supernatural
[8-26] EXO
[27-32] One Direction

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I Could Make It Better

2012-06-25T22:14:48Z

Title: I Could Make It Better
Author: zeropercent
Rating: Light R
Pairing: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Summary: Wade doesn’t get along well with people.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Man Overboard. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: I don’t even know how I finished this, honestly. It was almost done so I kind of just pushed. Well.
[on AO3]

Wade doesn’t get along well with people. He never has. All they’ve ever done is caused him pain, so in return, he rips them apart. Literally and figuratively. He’s never had a proper relationship with anyone. Since the world hates him, he hates it back.

His life so far has been, to say the least, a living hell. He has the scars to prove it. He has the memories that haunt him every fucking day of his pathetic existence.

Peter’s the one bright light in a universe of darkness. He’s beautiful and he smiles at Wade like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’s taught Wade how to interact with people. He’s tried to show him that not everyone is going to screw him over. He has a hard time trusting Peter. It’s nothing against him, it’s just the way Wade has been forever. He pushes him away, but Peter always comes back. Always.

Peter takes him out. They walk around New York near sundown. Peter’s hand brushes against his and his only reaction is to pull away. But Peter simply grabs his hand again and laces their fingers together. He looks at him and Peter grins, his eyes telling him that it’ll be okay.

-

Wade stares at the skyline late at night. He’s always done it. Peter’s apartment has a perfect view. It’s one in the morning, and Wade loves the bright lights and starless sky.

Peter stands in the doorway to the balcony and rubs his eyes. “Wade?” He sits next to him, “You alright?” It’s the first time Peter’s ever woken up in the middle of the night and noticed Wade wasn’t in bed.

“Yeah.” He tentatively grabs Peter’s hand, and Peter squeezes, scooting closer to him. He’s sleep-warm, contrasting with the cold air. “I always watch the city at night.”

Peter nods, and doesn’t say anything else. Just rests his head on Wade’s shoulder until he falls asleep and Wade takes him back to bed.

-

The first time Peter kisses him, it’s early in the morning. The sunlight’s seeping through the blinds and Peter’s wrapped around Wade, still half asleep. Wade twirls his hair in between his fingers and Peter glances up at him, pressing their lips together.

-

Wade constantly comes home bloody. Peter knows it’s not his blood, but someone else’s. Wade still gets urges, and Peter can’t stop him. He needs to take the edge off.

Instead of yelling at him for it, or lecturing him on how it’s wrong, Peter wipes the blood away with a wet towel and tells him about what he heard on the news that day.

-

Wade slowly begins to feel, well, human. He is one, but he’s never felt the way he does now.

Peter stays up with him to watch the skyline. Wade occasionally turns to him and kisses him.

Peter makes him happy. He makes him laugh and he keeps him somewhat in line. As in line as Wade Wilson can possibly be.

He says, “I love you.”

Wade admits, “I don’t know what that feels like.”

Peter nods understandingly, “It’s fine. You have to figure it out on your own.”

Wade presses their lips together and says, “Thank you.”

-

Wade decides that his favorite type of food is Chinese food. He and Peter go out to eat and Peter laughs when he can’t get the chopsticks right. Wade huffs and Peter positions the chopsticks in his hand for him, showing him how it’s done.

-

It’s a week later, and Peter’s preparing dinner, making small talk with Wade when Wade blurts out, “I love you.”

Peter blinks at him for a moment, as if he’s trying to process it. He then beams and says, “I love you, too,” leaning over the counter and kissing Wade’s cheek.

-

Peter’s usually the strong, confident one. Wade comes home from the store one day and Peter’s curled up on the couch crying, for whatever reason. He kneels beside him and pushes his hair back, pressing his lips to his temple, as Peter has done to him countless times.

Peter reaches out and wraps his arms around Wade’s neck, sobbing. Wade doesn’t ask what’s wrong, doesn’t push it, and Peter’s glad. He rubs Peter’s back, trying to calm him.

Peter whispers, “I love you,” and Wade wipes away the tears on his cheeks, telling him the same.

-

Peter’s skin is soft, it’s even and smooth and Wade can touch him forever. Wade’s is rough, covered in marks. Peter traces some of his scars, pressing his face into his chest. He sighs and closes his eyes. Wade plays with the hem of Peter’s shirt, brushing the tips of his fingers over his bare skin.

“How can you love me?”

Peter looks up and raises an eyebrow, “Hm?”

Wade says it again, a little louder this time. “I’m just—ugly.”

“No you’re not.” He grabs his hand and runs his fingers over his knuckles, “Trust me.”

Wade wants to take his hand back and protest, but Peter’s eyes are bright and sincere, and he can’t help but believe him.

-

Peter lies on Wade when they watch late night shows on the couch. He always falls asleep to the rise and fall of Wade’s chest, his heartbeat low against his ear. Wade mutes the television and shuts his eyes, dozing off to the sound of Peter’s light snoring.

In the morning, Peter gets up first. He places a blanket over Wade and goes to brush his teeth. When he returns, Wade’s staring up at the ceiling. “Hey.”

Wade looks at him and grins, “Hey.” Peter motions to the balcony and Wade gets up, following him out. He slips an arm around Peter’s waist, staring out at the city.

Peter says, “You don’t watch the skyline during the day.”

Wade never realized it. “I guess I don’t.”

Peter takes a seat on the small bench and points to buildings, telling Wade short stories about them. The laundromat where his underwear got stolen, the hospital where he was born, the bookstore he used to visit every day.

Wade listens carefully, and Peter points, “That restaurant over there. I went on a great date. Had Chinese food.” Wade looks at him and Peter continues, “Taught him how to use chopsticks.” He pauses for a moment and Wade grabs the sides of his face, pulling him in. Peter arches up against him and hooks his arms around his neck.

Wade wonders if Peter will tell other people about his memories with him. He feels content to share his life with him.

Peter’s flushed and smiling when they part, “What was that about?”

“You’re just,” he says awkwardly, “awesome.”

Peter laughs, “Well thanks. Come on, I’ll make you some coffee.”

Clenched Teeth And Fluttering Eyes

2012-06-08T14:48:48Z

Title: Clenched Teeth And Fluttering Eyes
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Summary: The first time Peter sees Wade, really sees him, he doesn’t know what to think.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Bring Me The Horizon. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: Just for future reference, when I write Wade/Peter, it’s Andrew-Garfield!Peter and Ryan-Reynolds!Wade.
[on AO3]

The first time Peter sees Wade, really sees him, he doesn’t know what to think. Wade’s suit is torn and he’s sitting with his back to a brick wall, mask in his hand. He’s panting and there’s blood on his lip, scars covering his visible skin. He’s regenerating, deep cuts slowly closing. Peter steps forward and Wade laughs pathetically, “Got my ass kicked.” Peter takes off his mask, thinking it’s only fair, and sits next to him. “You know, Spidey, you ain’t that bad lookin’.”

Peter grins, “Thanks, I guess.” He says, “My name’s Peter.” And Peter has no idea as to why he’s telling him this.

“I’m Wade.”

-

Peter hears someone picking the lock. He clings to the ceiling, waiting to jump. The second the door closes behind whoever it is, Peter goes for it. He’s throwing punches and a strangely familiar voice is going, “Hey it’s just me!”

Peter stops, “Wade?” He gets up and turns on the light, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?” He holds out his hand and Wade takes it, standing up.

Wade disregards his question and says, “Nice boxers. Not gonna lie, I kind of thought you’d be a briefs guy.”

Peter suddenly feels self-conscious but doesn’t do anything, just stands there, “What do you want?” Wade walks past him and sits on the couch, throwing a bag on the coffee table. “What’s in the bag?”

“My suit. Jesus, Peter you’re like an obsessive wife.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest and Wade says, “Sorry, did I offend you, babe? Come over here and sit on my lap.”

Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to bed.”

-

Peter wakes up with an arm around his waist. He’s sufficiently confused, and everything’s blurry so he blinks a few times to clear things up. He looks over his shoulder and his breath catches in his throat when he sees Wade. He manages to slip out of his grip and go into the bathroom. He runs his hands through his hair, looking at himself in the mirror.

“What’s that on your shoulder?” Peter jumps and looks at Wade, who’s standing in the doorway.

“Scabs. Scraped against some bricks.” He asks, “What happened last night?”

“I tried sleeping on your couch but there was a spring in my back, which hurt, by the way.” Peter feels like he should say something about the way Wade was pretty much wrapped around him, but he doesn’t.

Instead he says, “Want some cereal?”

-

It kind of becomes a routine. Peter doesn’t freak out when Wade picks the door open. He doesn’t say anything when Wade slips into bed with him, his arm sliding over his waist and his breath hitting the nape of his neck. And in the morning, they eat cereal and watch the news.

Sometimes Wade cracks jokes, and Peter laughs even though he shouldn’t. He tells Wade they’re inappropriate, to which Wade tells him to stop being a prude. Wade cleans up after himself, making a comment about how Peter’s apartment is nice.

“What?”

“Your place smells sometimes.”

-

Peter doesn’t know why, but they’re watching a movie together. About halfway, Wade turns to him. Peter glances at him and Wade kisses him. It’s just for a moment and his lips are gone as quickly as they came. Peter puts his head on Wade’s shoulder, feeling oddly content.

-

It’s snowing, and Wade’s on the couch, clad in a pair of Peter’s sweatpants and a hoodie. The heater’s on, but it doesn’t do much. Wade spins a knife in between his fingers and Peter says, “I swear to god, Wade—”

“I practically do this shit for a living.” He throws it and manages to knock Peter’s empty soda can off of the counter.

“You’re going to get me killed!” He picks them up and throws the can into the garbage and the knife into the sink.

“Don’t be silly.” He puts his feet up on the coffee table and rolls his eyes when Peter comes and swats them off.

Peter sits next to him and turns on the news, listening intently.

-

Peter kind of comes to the conclusion that, yeah, Wade’s an asshole. And yeah, he really likes him.

Wade does what he wants. If he wants to save someone, he does. If he doesn’t, he either leaves them or kills them. Simple as that.

Sometimes Peter wishes he had the power to regenerate, since wounds can really slow him down.

Wade’s been bumming off of him for about five months now, but Peter’s been too tired to kick him out. “You alright?”

Peter slams the door shut, “No.”

“Shit, you look worse than I do.”

Peter glares and kicks off his shoes. “I just want to sleep.” He collapses on the couch and rests his head on Wade’s shoulder, dozing off.

-

Wade sucks marks into his skin and Peter claws his hands down his back, wrapping his legs around his waist. Wade curses and slips two spit slick fingers into him, ignoring Peter’s whimper. Peter grabs and tugs on Wade’s hair, arching up against him.

Wade’s not gentle. He’s rough and animalistic and Peter knows very well that he’s going to be sore in the morning. Peter probably shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s too far gone to care at this point. He feels the sharp end of the condom wrapper digging into his lower back, and he grabs it and throws it to the floor.

“Just—Wade.” Wade looks at him and wraps a hand around Peter’s cock, making Peter buck up into his fist. Peter throws his head back when Wade pulls his fingers out and pushes in, gripping his hips.

Peter fists his hands in the bed sheets and Wade presses his hands into his skin, sure to leave bruises. Wade leans down and crushes their lips together, sliding his tongue into Peter’s mouth. Peter grabs his shoulders and digs his nails in. Wade lets out a breathless laugh and buries his face into the crook of Peter’s neck.

Wade’s relentless and Peter doesn’t even care if they wake the neighbors. He’s hot and panting, and he can feel Wade’s breath on his skin.

Peter makes little noises and Wade wants him to be loud. He sinks his teeth into Peter’s neck, drawing out a groan. Peter tries to rut up against him for friction, saying his name. Wade grabs his arms and pins his wrists above his head. He grins and runs his tongue over Peter’s flushed skin, feeling him writhe under him.

“Wade, I can’t—fuck.” He shuts his eyes tightly and Wade snaps his hips forward, making him come without being touched.

“Shit, Peter.”

Peter looks at him, all wet lips and blown pupils, messy hair and red cheeks, and Wade loosens his grip on Peter’s wrists, coming with a low moan.

Peter props himself up on his elbows and kisses him, a small smile on his face. Wade throws the condom onto the floor and lies beside him, trying to catch his breath.

He lets Peter press himself against him, and he grabs his hand, rubbing his wrist.

-

Wade’s not in bed in the morning, and Peter frowns. He gets up and does his usual routine, before realizing that Wade’s not even in the house. He shakes his head, slightly disappointed, and makes himself some coffee.

-

He’s going to die. There is no way he can get himself out of this one. Peter gives up and sits there, bloodied and bruised, and waits for the final blow.

But the final blow doesn’t go to him. He hears a gunshot and watches as the man falls.

He looks up, and pulls his mask off, “Wade?” He tries to stand but fails, pain rushing through him. He feels dizzy, light headed.

Arms wrap around him and Wade says, “I’ve got you,” before Peter’s unconscious.

-

“You were gone.” Wade nods as he patches up Peter’s lacerations. “It’s been two weeks, Wade.”

“I know. I had work to do.” Wade looks genuinely apologetic, and Peter forgives him.

Peter reaches out and squeezes his thigh. Maybe he’s an idiot. Maybe Wade’s going to fuck him over.

But Wade presses an ice pack to Peter’s cheek and says, “You’ll be fine.”

And Peter believes him.

Tough Love

2012-06-03T21:09:53Z

Title: Tough Love
Author: zeropercent
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson , Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Summary: Superfamily AU. In which Peter is dating Wade and Tony thinks he’s a bad influence.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Forever The Sickest Kids. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: I love superfamily so much you guys don’t understand ;___;
[on AO3]

Peter turns around and shoves his hands in his pockets, “I had a good time.”

Wade brings a hand up and puts it on the side of Peter’s jaw, leaning in. Their lips brush and a voice says, “Not in my tower.” Peter jumps back and feels his face flush from embarrassment. Wade laughs and Peter mouths a sorry.

Wade settles for wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist, “I’ll see you, okay?”

Peter nods and waves goodbye before getting into the elevator. When the door opens, he’s met by his dad giving him a stern look. Peter throws his arms up, “God, Dad, why do you have to watch me all the time? Can’t you just let me—?”

“Nope.” Tony ignores the way Peter rolls his eyes at him. Peter walks past him and opens the secondary door to his room. He goes to shut it but Tony stops it from closing, “Why are you late?”

“Dad, it’s only ten minutes.” He turns his back to Tony and takes off his jacket, ignoring him.

Tony makes a frustrated noise and walks out, going to the master bedroom. Steve glances up at him from his book, “Stop bothering him, Tony.”

“I wasn’t bothering him!” He gets under the covers and Steve puts his book on the nightstand, turning to him. “He was late and then he expected to get away with kissing that delinquent in my home!”

“He’s a teenager.” He reaches out and pushes Tony’s hair back, giving him a small smile. “Plus, he probably didn’t think out the time it would take for him to get home.”

“Wade’s bad news, Steve.” He sighs and leans into Steve’s touch, “I don’t want Peter to get hurt. Or in trouble.”

“He’ll be fine. You have to let him live.”

“I mean, he lives by himself! What if he takes Peter and they—do things.”

Steve shakes his head and laughs, saying once again that Peter’s a teenager and it’ll have to happen eventually. Tony sighs, turning off the lights and pulling Steve in close.

-

“Morning, Peter.”

“Hey, Pop. Dad’s asleep, right?” Steve nods and Peter asks, “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

Peter leans against the counter as Steve cooks, “Dad’s been driving me nuts.” Steve furrows his eyebrows and Peter continues, “Did you see what he did to me last night?”

“I talked to him about that. He’s trying to look out for you, Peter.”

“You talked to him?”

“He’s worried about you.” Peter frowns. “He thinks Wade will get you into trouble.” Steve puts pancakes on a plate and gives it to Peter. “Eat up before you go to school.”

“Just because he’s Deadpool?” Peter douses his pancakes in syrup, “I’m not going to get in trouble. He’s being totally unfair.” Steve shrugs and Peter sits down, stuffing his face and slouching grumpily.

-

Steve has to wake Tony up every morning, since he sleeps like a rock and even JARVIS can’t wake him. He has to pull the covers off of the bed and shake Tony awake, telling him over and over to get up. Steve says he made coffee and pancakes and Tony gets up reluctantly, pulling Steve into a hug.

“Is Peter mad at me?”

“He thinks you’re being unreasonable.”

Tony huffs and presses his lips to Steve’s jaw before slipping away to go brush his teeth.

-

At lunch, Peter sits next to Wade in the grass, his knees curled up to Wade’s thighs. He mumbles against his neck, “Sorry about my dad last night.”

Wade kisses Peter’s temple, “It’s alright. He probably doesn’t trust me. Which is understandable, I guess.”

Peter squeezes Wade’s hand, “It’s not your fault.” Wade gives him a look and Peter says, “It’s not.” Wade grins and holds Peter tightly, burying his face in his hair.

-

On Saturday, Wade turns up at one in the morning, bloody and bruised, his suit ripped in certain places. “Wade? What happened?” Wade shushes him and Peter helps him to the elevator, “If my dad sees you here, he’ll kill you.”

“Don’t care.” Wade slumps against Peter, “Got into a fight.”

“Well obviously. You’re insane.” Peter takes him into the bathroom, letting him sit on the toilet seat. “C’mon, let me…” He gently takes off his suit until he’s left in briefs, apologizing every time Wade cringes. He grabs the first aid kit and sits on the floor between his legs, wiping at the cuts on his stomach with an antiseptic. Wade stares up at the ceiling, knowing he’s safe here with Peter.

“Peter?”

Scratch that. Wade looks over at the door, seeing Tony. “Hey Mr. Stark.”

Tony narrows his eyes at Wade and says, “Peter I need to speak with you.”

“Dad, can it wait? I’m busy.”

“Now, Peter.”

Peter presses a cloth to Wade’s stomach, “Keep that there, okay?” Wade nods and watches as Peter walks off. He hisses, “What, Dad?”

“What are you doing?”

“He’s hurt! I couldn’t leave him out there. If you don’t want him here, get him out yourself.”

Tony simply stands there, taken aback by his son’s behavior. He averts his gaze to the ground, tracing the patterns on the floor. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “I trust you, Peter. Just—be careful.”

He walks away and Peter goes back to Wade, kneeling in front of him and cleaning him up. Peter convinces Wade to stay, and for the first time, they lie in bed peacefully. Wade’s warmth is comforting and Peter’s glad he’s here. He cards his fingers through Peter’s hair until they’re both asleep, breathing evenly.

-

Wade wakes and tries to sit up, only to be met with a blast of pain through his torso. He groans and Peter pushes him back down, “Don’t move, you idiot. You haven’t healed yet.”

“Peter?”

“What?” Wade looks around and blinks at the sunlight, suddenly being reminded of how he ended up here. He offers Peter a smile and Peter gives him one in return, “Let me change your bandages.” He peels them back and goes to replace them, “Tell me if I press down too hard.” Wade tenses up a few times but doesn’t say anything, so Peter finishes quickly.

“I’ll bring you some breakfast.”

Wade grabs Peter’s wrist, “Don’t.” Peter opens his mouth and Wade tries to explain, “I’m already a bother. I don’t want your dads hating me even more.” Wade holds his hand, “Really, Peter. Just go.”

Peter hesitates but leaves, leaving the door slightly ajar. Minutes later, Wade hears footsteps. And he’s about ready to jump out of bed and escape through the nearest exit but he knows he can’t without injury.

“Wade.”

Wade swallows hard. “Mr. Stark.” Tony closes the door behind him and Wade thinks he’s in for a world of shit.

He sits on a chair and stares at Wade intently, “Listen, Wade. I don’t—I don’t have a problem with you…being with my son. But I swear to god, if you get him into trouble, expect hell.”

Wade stares at Tony with wide eyes, “No, I mean, yeah, okay. I won’t get him into any trouble, I promise.” Tony gets up and before he walks away, he pulls something out, placing it on Wade’s lap. Wade looks down at his fixed suit, and says, “Thank you.”

Tony nods and shuts the door, leaving Wade alone.

-

Wade heals quickly, Peter had forgotten about his regeneration. When they’re lying in bed the following night, Wade turns to him and Peter can see his smirk in the darkness. “Wade, what—?”

“Your dad said he doesn’t have a problem with me.”

Peter props himself up on an elbow, “He said what?”

Wade surges forward and kisses him. Peter cups his face in his hands and Wade pushes him down, licking his way into his mouth. “You heard me right.”

Peter smiles and pulls him down again.

-

Steve keeps Tony sane. Or, well, he tries to keep Tony sane. “I’m glad you told him that.”

Tony puts his arm around Steve’s waist, “I didn’t want Peter to hate me.”

“He would never hate you,” Steve assures him. “You’re his dad, Tony.” Tony looks worried and Steve says, “Don’t worry.” Steve laces their fingers together and Tony thinks he did the right thing.

-

Dinner with Wade is, to say the least, awkward.

Steve tries to make small talk while Tony eyes Wade like he’s going to blow the tower up. And Peter, well Peter just sits there, his hand occasionally reaching under the table and squeezing Wade’s thigh. When Tony does finally speak up, he asks Wade if he uses protection, which causes Wade to choke on his chicken and Steve to kick Tony’s leg under the table.

Peter whines, “Dad you’re embarrassing me.”

Wade says they’ve never done anything and Tony just continues staring. Peter coughs loudly to distract his father for a moment. Steve asks Tony about his day, which thoroughly takes his attention away from Wade.

Wade winks at Peter and Peter blushes, averting his gaze to his food.

-

“Thanks for letting me stay.” Peter grins, leaning up, and Wade kisses him cautiously, as if Tony’s going to pop out of nowhere and tell them to stop. When he realizes they’re fine, he rests his hands on Peter’s hips and relaxes against him. “See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” he steps away as a taxi pulls up and Wade gets in. He watches him leave, and he feels alright.

When You’re Around Me (I’m Radioactive)

2012-05-24T21:40:28Z

Title: When You’re Around Me (I’m Radioactive)
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Louis
Summary: AU. Harry works at a record store and he has an obsession with memories.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Marina and The Diamonds. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: Based on this picture and this picture. Also, I want to thank thesilverwitch for being awesome.

Harry loves where he works. He loves the atmosphere, the smell of new records, the way the place is never completely lit because the owner doesn’t want to pay the full electricity bill. It’s quiet and not many people come in, so Harry just sits at the register and reads a book. He likes the peace.

He doesn’t avert his gaze at the sound of the bell chiming, signaling that someone has come in. He hears shuffling, the sign that someone’s looking through the vinyl records. He turns the page in his book and brushes the hair from his eyes, scratching at the tattoo on his neck.

“Excuse me.”

He looks up and feels his breath catch in his throat. He manages to say, “Yes?”

“Where can I find Metallica’s self-titled?”

Harry puts his bookmark in and gets up, making a movement so the man can follow him. He goes and pulls it out with ease; the man gives him a grin and says, “Thanks.”

“Good album, mate.” Harry sticks his hand out, “I’m Harry.”

“Louis.” He takes his hand and Louis’s handshake is firm and warm, and Harry finds his touch lingering on his palm. “Any recommendations?”

Harry lights up and says, “A ton, if you have time to listen.”

Louis says, “All I have is time.”

-

Louis comes back the next day, and Harry smiles at him, putting his book down. Louis rests his elbows on the counter and talks about the records he bought yesterday. He talks about how the bands Harry recommended were really good and he asks if there are any more.

Harry nods and suggests some more recent bands, Louis makes comments on some of them, saying he saw them at Leeds but never checked them out.

Harry finds himself staring at Louis’s lips, the metal rings in them. He wonders if they’re cold and how they would feel on his skin. Sure, Harry has one of his own, but it feels different. He shakes the thoughts and looks back up at Louis’s eyes, noticing the way they seem darker now than they did two minutes ago.

-

Louis ends up passing by every day when Harry’s working. Harry asked a coworker, and Louis doesn’t come in when Harry doesn’t.

He usually sits on the counter and they chat about their lives. Louis turns out to be twenty four, and he lives by himself in a studio flat on the edge of town. He used to be in a band, but the lifestyle was too stressful for the rest of his band mates, so they split, and now he’s a painter. His first pet was a dog, and he knows how to play a ton of different instruments. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever met someone so interesting. He wants Louis to talk forever.

When Louis asks Harry about himself, Harry mumbles, “I’m not that fascinating.”

“Neither am I, but I told you everything anyways.”

Harry tells him he lives in a small flat, across from a coffee shop. He used to own chinchilla and for his birthday every year, his mother would get him a pair of shoes until she passed away when he was seventeen. When he needs to calm down or clear his head, he always goes to the pier. He gets tattoos to remember, and to forget.

Louis asks, “What about the bracelets on your wrist?”

“Just stuff from friends. Got this one from Leeds a few years ago though,” he points to one and Louis smiles.

“Do you remember who gave it to you?”

Harry frowns, feeling slightly out of place, “No, but I remember having a good time with him.”

Louis abruptly says, “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Harry stands there when he’s gone, trying to make sense of what just happened. That night, he dreams of bright eyes lined with eyeliner and a contagious smile, with loud music in the distance.

-

“So, I was wondering,” Harry’s head shoots up; he hadn’t even noticed Louis was there, “if you’d like to go out with me?” Harry tries to form words, but he just ends up looking at Louis with wide eyes. “If not, that’s okay.”

“No, no. It would be great. Yeah. I’d like to.” He internally smacks himself.

“Awesome.” Louis hands him a piece of paper, “That’s my number.” He bites his lip and picks at his nails, “This whole thing seemed a lot better in my head.”

Harry says, “I like it this way.”

Louis grins, “I’m glad one of us does.” He leans over the counter and Harry doesn’t move back, so he feels Louis’s breaths hit his lips. For a minute, he thinks Louis is going to do something, but he just pulls away and says, “I have to go. I just wanted to stop by for a few minutes. Call me, okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

When he gets home later that day, he does call Louis. They set up a date to hang out at Harry’s flat (Louis said his flat was a mess, and it was embarrassing to have anyone over). They talk until four in the morning, and Harry only stops the conversation because he has to go to work in five hours and a little sleep would be nice. Louis tells him he’s glad they met, and Harry says, likewise.

-

Louis doesn’t come by the next day and Harry finds himself upset all throughout his shift. He doesn’t bother reading his book, just keeps his head down, only raising it when people want to make purchases or ask him something.

When he’s locking up the store, his phone rings. The screen flashes, Louis, and he instantly feels better. He answers, and Louis voice immediately says, “Sorry I couldn’t come by today.” He says it’s fine, but Louis continues, “You don’t work tomorrow, right? Come by, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He gives Harry his address, and tells him he’ll wait for him outside.

A few minutes later, Harry’s in his car, driving to Louis’s flat. Harry recalls the conversation they had last night, how Louis said his place was a mess. When he gets there, he pushes away the thought when he sees Louis standing there, fidgeting uncomfortably. Louis sees him approaching and his face lights up, Harry waves and he pulls him into a hug. Harry buries his face into the crook of his neck and digs his fingers into Louis’s hair, feeling Louis relax against him.

Louis grabs his hand and leads him up to his flat, he looks embarrassed as he mumbles, “It’s really messy. So, sorry about that.”

He unlocks the door and Harry’s hit with the strong scent of paint and vanilla. There’s paint on the walls and a canvas in the corner. Harry steps closer to it and says, “Wow.” He wants to reach out and touch it, like he could absorb some of the beauty. “It’s amazing.” He looks over at Louis, who’s blushing profusely.

“It’s not finished but—yeah, it’s you.”

“I can tell. Thank you.”

Louis comes up to him and puts his arms on his waist. Louis whispers, “Tell me if I’m out of line,” and kisses him. Harry hooks his hands around Louis’s neck, pressing back. His lips feel oddly familiar, yet refreshingly new. They move a bit, and Louis is warm against him, gently pushing him down onto the couch. Harry runs his hands over Louis’s arms, over his tattoos.

Louis’s snakebites are cold, but they quickly warm up. “Spend the night?”

Harry nods, “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his mouth and Louis runs his tongue over his lip, unbuttoning his work shirt. Harry tilts his head back and makes a noise, letting Louis toss his shirt to the floor. “We’re not—”

Louis kisses the corner of his mouth, “Not if you don’t want to.” Harry looks unsure and Louis says, “Okay. I won’t.”

“It’s not you. It’s just...”

“Hey, it’s alright. I know.” He gives Harry a reassuring smile, and Harry leans up, his lips sliding over Louis’s cheek. Louis murmurs, “You’re amazing,” brushing the tips of his fingers along Harry’s jaw. Harry lifts up Louis’s shirt, throwing it next to his own on the ground. He traces Louis’s chest piece, staring intently.

“I made you something to eat, if you’d like.” His face flushes, “Well, it’s, cookies, but, yeah.”

“I’d love some.”

Later, they sit on Louis’s bed, watching one of the movies from his DVD collection on his laptop. Louis absentmindedly plays with Harry’s curls and Harry toys with the string on Louis’s sweatpants. There’s an empty plate on the nightstand, covered in cookie crumbs.

It’s ten when the movie ends, and Louis sets his computer on the dresser, getting under the covers with Harry. He holds him close, listening to Harry’s even breathing as he dozes off.

-

Harry looks peaceful when he’s asleep. His eyeliner from the day before is smudged since he didn’t wash it off, and his hair falls into his face just right, seemingly accentuating all of his features. Louis wants to pick up a pencil and draw this moment, but he doesn’t want to get up.

Harry’s eyelashes flutter and Louis’s met with vibrant green eyes looking up at him. “Good morning.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just cups his hand around the back of Louis’s neck and kisses him, a soft press of lips. When he goes to pull away, Louis chases his mouth, and Harry laughs, reaching up and pushing his hair back. Louis offers some coffee, and Harry says that it would be nice.

-

They spend the day on Louis’s sofa, the laptop on the coffee table, playing a movie. Louis doesn’t own a television, he says he doesn’t have much interest in the TV anyway.

Louis has a corkboard with a ton of things on it. Concert tickets, pictures, movie tickets, simple mementos. There’s a red bracelet that catches Harry’s attention. He points to it and asks, “Louis, where did you get that?”

Louis walks over to him and says, “The bracelet? A nice guy with curly hair gave it to me at Leeds a few years ago.”

Harry stares at him. No. Louis gives him a forced smile and Harry breathes out, “It was you.” Louis nods and Harry feels dizzy, “I have to go.”

“Harry—”

“I’ll see you later, Louis.” With that, he’s out the door, rushing to the lift and ignoring Louis’s voice calling him.

-

Harry decides to go to the pier to clear his head. He sits on the edge, water occasionally splashing his feet. He puts his head in his hands. Louis knew this whole time. And he didn’t even tell him.

He remembers that night, he remembers it well. A man—Louis, he now knows—came up to him and they hit it off immediately. Louis was warm, and comforting. Harry had had a bad week, so having this nice guy hitting on him was flattering, and it helped him forget about how shitty the past few days had been.

He hung out with Louis the whole time. Throughout the day, they shared drinks and kisses, not even bothering with knowing each other’s names. Harry liked Louis, he wasn’t bad memories. He was a fresh start. Harry took him home after the festival, and let Louis fuck him in his bed. He came with his fingers in Louis’s hair and Louis’s mouth on his neck, sucking marks into his skin. Louis was gone by morning, only leaving a bracelet on the pillow. It might be silly, but Harry hasn’t taken it off since.

Louis left him with one of the best memories he has.

He sighs and thinks about where he and Louis could go from here. They could get together. Or Harry could ignore him completely and forget about him. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to forget about the person he’s spend the last two years thinking about. He’s been alone for so long. Maybe Louis is what he needs.

Harry remembers how Louis looked. Only a couple tattoos, one ring in his lip. His hair looked the same, and so did his eyes. How did Harry not notice?

He hears footsteps and someone sits next to him. He looks over and it’s Louis. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“You told me you always go to the pier.” Harry feels the corners of his lips turn upwards. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew—the moment I saw your bracelet.” Harry lets him thread their fingers together, “I didn’t want to say anything, since I kind of wanted us to have a clean slate.”

“I wish you had told me.”

“I know. I realize my mistake now.” He runs his thumb over Harry’s knuckles, and Harry puts his head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m just sorry.”

“Don’t say anything.”

Louis buries his nose into Harry’s hair, wrapping his arms around him.

-

A week later, Louis takes him out on a proper date. They go out to a small restaurant and afterwards, Harry goes home with Louis. He borrows Louis’s pajamas and lies in bed with him, listening to Louis’s record player.

He pushes Louis’s shirt up and presses his fingertips to his hip.

“Harry, what—?”

“I remember the scar.” He traces it, “This one.”

Louis looks down and says, “My dog gave it to me when I was little. I’m surprised you remembered.”

“I like remembering little things.” Like the way Louis only seems to own band shirts and striped shirts, and the way he never gets his eyeliner quite right so it’s always smudged, the little freckles on his arms that are barely visible. Harry knows. And he won’t forget. Louis presses his mouth to Harry’s jaw and Harry brings his hand up and lets his fingers glide over Louis’s collarbone.

Louis shuts his eyes and throws a leg over Harry’s thighs, nuzzling his nose to his skin.

-

When Harry’s working, Louis brings him lunch. He hangs around and Harry speaks between bites, “Can you come over to my flat tonight?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll pick you up at closing, okay?”

“Yeah.” He leans over and gives Harry a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

-

Louis looks around and says, “It looks like it used to.”

Harry locks the door and shrugs, “I’m not one for interior decorating.”

Louis steps towards him and Harry fists his hands in his jumper. His eyes ask a question and Harry nods, pulling him to the bed. Louis works on the buttons of his shirt, and Harry remembers his sure hands, the way they know what they’re doing, the way they know Harry’s body like he’s a map that Louis has been studying forever.

He gives Harry a chance to back out, to push him away, but Harry doesn’t, and he shoves his jeans and boxers down, letting Harry kick them off. Harry does the same thing to him, and Louis grips his thighs, settling in between them. Harry breathes heavily, nervous, and Louis whispers encouragements. He slides his hands up and wraps one around Harry’s dick, earning a moan. Harry reaches up and squeezes Louis’s shoulders, bucking up into his fist. Louis shifts and Harry says, “Come up a bit.”

He does, and Harry snakes a hand around both of their cocks, tight friction almost unbearable. Louis curses and ruts up, replacing Harry’s hand with his own. Harry writhes and digs his nails into the bed sheets, Louis’s name falling from his lips.

Louis’s kisses him, and Harry opens up for him, letting him lick his way into his mouth. He arches up against him and gasps when Louis runs his thumb over the head of his cock.

“Tighter.”

Louis complies, feeling Harry leak precome over his cock. “God, Harry.” He squeezes Harry’s hip and presses down, bruising him. Harry throws an arm over his eyes and Louis protests, “Let me see you, babe.”

Harry shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath, “I can’t—”

He nudges Harry’s arm with his head, making him move it, “It’s alright, love.” He flicks his wrist and Harry comes over his hand, face flushing and body trembling. It pushes Louis over the edge, and he hides his face in the crook of his neck. Harry slips his hands up his back and Louis pants against his skin, pressing his lips to the tattoo on his neck and Harry kisses his temple, slumping back against the pillows.

Louis lets out a laugh, “God, we’re messy.” Harry makes a noise and Louis wipes his hand on the bed, earning a grimace. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Louis rolls off of Harry and stretches out, giving him a smile. He pulls him in close and Harry whispers, “Don’t leave me this time.”

“I won’t.”</blockquote>

whoa music recs

2012-05-24T01:27:11Z

quality stuff i thought i'd share

1. anti-venom -- eatmewhileimhot [x]
2. to catch a flame -- oceans ate alaska [x]
3. everything i ask for -- the maine [x] (GOD, WHO REMEMBERS THIS? I WAS WATCHING ALL TIME LOW MUSIC VIDEOS AND IT CAME UP AND I GOT SO MUCH NOSTALGIA. I REMEMBER SEEING IT WHEN IT CAME OUT ON MTV)
4. skin -- sixx a.m. [x]
5. arguing with thermometers -- enter shikari [x]
6. the way it stays -- we are bravest [x]
7. @reply -- set it off [x]
8. flux and flow -- lights [x] (her latest album is perfect, i saw her in concert two years back and she's great)

here have a gif

♡ meme ♡

2012-05-12T21:57:27Z

THE YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL MEME

Click for my thread c:

Your Smoking Tongue

2012-05-03T00:47:08Z

Title: Your Smoking Tongue
Author: zeropercent
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Zayn/Liam
Summary: AU. Zayn wants to make beautiful things.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Blink-182. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

Zayn wants to make beautiful things. He wants to write stories that paint pictures. He wants to paint pictures that tell stories. He wants to go out and get tattoos, get gorgeous art on his body for everyone to see. He wants to draw chalk murals on the pavement. And even though it’ll get washed away, it’ll make people smile. It’ll make people stop and stare. Maybe it’ll make the man that just got fired feel better, maybe it’ll make the woman who just got dumped forget about it for a few moments.

Liam? Liam’s a baker. He plays the piano and makes art out of things that are delicious. Every morning before he leaves, Zayn writes something on his arm. Just a word. People sometimes ask him what the words mean, and Liam tells them with a big smile. When he comes home, there’s usually flour on his face. Zayn simply wipes it off and kisses his cheek.

Zayn smokes cigarettes and writes about what he sees outside of his window. Writes about his thoughts. Writes about Liam, the way his eyes flutter when he’s sleeping, the way he has a tan on his wrist from his watch.

Liam sometimes comes home with food from the bakery. Usually leftovers. Other times, he just makes something out of scratch for dinner at home.

Zayn thinks about Liam’s hands. Thinks about all of the hard work they do. He wraps his arms around Liam’s waist and kisses him until they’re both panting.

-

Zayn hangs some of his paintings up in Liam’s bakery. The owner, Paul, always insists on paying him for his artwork. But Zayn just shakes his head and puts up the canvases. He makes enough money, he’s always happy to give his friends art for free.

Liam’s days are long. But looking at the pictures and thinking of Zayn makes them seem to go by faster.

When he gets home, he plays the piano until his fingers hurt, until Zayn’s asleep on the couch. He gently removes the pencil and paper from his hands and puts a blanket over Zayn, kissing his forehead.

-

On weekends, they wake up early. Zayn takes Liam to the coffee stop across the street and they sit outside. He writes, iridescent, on Liam’s arm before putting his pen away. Zayn smokes cigarettes and Liam reads. They both drink coffee, of course. It’s their routine.

Occasionally, Liam will look up and read a line from his book out loud. He and Zayn discuss them sometimes. Other times, Zayn just smiles at the way Liam’s eyes light up when he talks about things he loves.

When they’re done there, they usually head over to the plaza. Harry and Louis are always working at the bookstore. Harry works behind the register, and sometimes, Louis will come up behind him and scare him. It’s not a very quiet place with Louis there; sometimes Zayn wonders how he got the job. Niall’s almost always on the steps playing guitar. Liam and Zayn give him tips all the time, then sit next to him.

When Niall’s not playing, he looks over and talks to Liam about food since he knows Liam’s a baker. He talks to Zayn about art. He asks if Zayn can paint him a picture of the skyline, he’ll pay him. Zayn nods, but says he’ll do it for free since Niall’s a friend.

They say their goodbyes and go into the bookstore. Liam asks Harry about any new books. Louis babbles to Zayn about how he and Harry went bike riding and how it would have been fun if they came. He says Harry was a bit slow, and gets a magazine thrown at his head.

Zayn laughs and buys a new journal. His old one is full. All seventy pages, front and back. Liam buys some new compositions for the piano.

Louis comes up behind Harry, but instead of frightening him, he hugs him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

-

Liam’s favorite shirt is navy, three sizes too big, and smells of cigarettes. No matter how many times he washes it, it smells the same. It reminds him of Zayn.

Zayn’s painting the skyline, as he told Niall he would. Liam says, “You’re so talented.” Zayn gives him a grin, putting his stuff down and cupping Liam’s face in his hands. He presses their lips together, feeling Liam fist his hands in his shirt. When they pull away, Liam’s cheeks have streaks of paint. Zayn holds back laughter and turns around, picking up his brush.

-

Zayn believes in keeping the spark in relationships. On a Tuesday, when Liam gets home, Zayn presents a vase of flowers to him. Roses. Liam’s tired face lights up and he thanks Zayn, putting the flowers down on the table. Zayn nips at his neck, “I made you dinner.”

“What?”

“I knew you’d be tired. So I made dinner. Or, tried.” Liam can’t fight his smile, and Zayn pulls out a chair for him, “Here you go.”

Liam sits and Zayn disappears into the kitchen, coming back out with two plates. “It’s not much, but it’s what I know how to make.”

Liam looks down at the spaghetti and says, “It’s perfect, Zayn. Thank you.”

Afterwards, Zayn has Liam spread out on the bed, face down, no shirt on. He traces patterns onto Liam’s back with his fingers. Liam shuts his eyes and mumbles something about how it feels good.

Zayn’s hands work over his back, and Liam moans into the pillow. His body relaxes, as if all of the stress that was pent up inside of him has been released.

Liam mumbles, “You’re too nice to me.”

“You deserve it.”

-

They go to Harry and Louis’s place for beer and pizza. Niall’s there, as well. They watch a game of football.

Harry’s spread out across the couch, his head on Louis’s lap and his legs on Niall’s thighs. Liam and Zayn are sitting on the floor, their backs to the sofa. Niall’s eaten half the pizza by himself, and they all have empty beer bottles on the ground. Liam’s leaning on Zayn, feeling pleasantly buzzed.

Zayn tells Niall he’s painting the skyline for him. Niall’s eyes go wide and he says, “Really?” Zayn nods. “Thank you!”

Harry says something about hot dogs, to which Louis makes a dirty joke. They all laugh and Niall steals the last slice of pizza. Typical.

-

On a rainy day, Zayn draws sketches while Liam plays the piano. His hand seems to move to the sound of the keys.

Zayn gets up and walks over to Liam, putting his head on his shoulder, “Follow me.”

Liam stands and does as he was told, going after Zayn into the bedroom. “What?”

Zayn smiles and says, “Get on the bed.” He lights a cigarette, watching Liam intently. “Shirt off.” Liam complies, and settles back against the pillows.

Zayn puts his cigarette between his lips and sits on Liam’s thighs, getting out his pen. He waves it around, and Liam shuts his eyes, hearing a familiar click before the pen’s being pressed against his skin. He smells smoke, and hears Zayn breathing. It’s calming. He asks, “What are you drawing?”

“Ocean animals.”

“Draw a sea turtle?”

Zayn laughs, “I already am.” He hums softly, putting down his pen when he’s done and rubbing a finger over Liam’s collarbone.

“Zayn.” Zayn scoots and grinds down against Liam. Liam hisses, “Tease.”

“Now, Liam, what would make you think such a thing?”

Liam rolls his eyes and Zayn flicks his cigarette, ashes falling to the floor.

“C’mere.” Zayn leans down and Liam hooks his arms around his neck.

He kisses his jaw, and Zayn says, “Northern star.”

“Hm?”

“You help me find my way home.” Liam smiles and Zayn puts out his cigarette, lying next to him. He grabs his pen and draws a star next to Liam’s heart. Liam takes it from him and draws a heart on Zayn’s shoulder. “What does that mean?”

Liam says, “You always wear your heart on your sleeve.”

Zayn pulls him against his chest. Liam’s hair smells like raspberries. Their legs tangle together and Zayn wants to stay like this forever. He tells Liam, “I’m keeping you forever.”

“As if I’d ever let you get rid of me.” He gives Zayn a toothy grin, “You’re mine.”

“You’re mine, too.”

icons ✰ primadonna girl

2012-04-28T14:25:09Z

[1-10] Marina And The Diamonds
[11-25] One Direction

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If you use these, please credit this journal.
No hotlinking!
Resources

Coloring My Senses

2012-04-26T21:59:08Z

Title: Coloring My Senses
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Zayn/Liam
Summary: The one where it’s winter and Zayn and Liam are in love. And they have a cat.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to All Time Low. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.

Liam loves when it snows. He loves sitting under the tree in his front yard with Zayn while they watch the specks of white fall to the ground. Zayn wraps an arm around Liam’s shoulders, leaning in and kissing him. Liam brings his hands up, placing them on both sides of Zayn’s face. The corners of Liam’s lips turn upward and Zayn brushes some snow from his hair, holding him closer.

They’re at the point where words aren’t necessary. Just being in each other’s presence is enough. Liam buries his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck, looking for warmth. Zayn’s always radiating heat, even when it’s freezing. Liam loves it.

Zayn cards his fingers through Liam’s hair, humming softly. Liam sighs against Zayn’s sweater, shutting his eyes. The sun’s seeping through the leaves, causing Liam’s skin to glow slightly. Zayn rests his head against the trunk of the tree, listening to the sound of birds and cars passing by.

X

Zayn makes the best hot chocolate. He makes it from scratch, just for Liam. It’s special.

They sit next to each other in front of the window, Zayn smoking and occasionally taking sips of Liam’s drink. Zayn presses kisses to Liam’s neck, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. Liam grins and squeezes his thigh. Zayn takes a drag from his cigarette and blows it out the window. Their new kitten is sitting on the edge of the couch trying to get their attention. Liam reaches over and pets her, scratching behind her ears.

Liam smiles and says, “I love the snow.”

Zayn whispers, “I love you.” Liam lets out a low laugh, kissing him, chocolate and nicotine mixed together. Zayn presses his face to Liam’s neck, his lips sliding over his skin.

“I love you, too.”

Zayn slips a hand under the waistband of Liam’s sweatpants, pulling him in just a bit more. Liam shifts and snuggles up against Zayn, throwing his legs over Zayn’s thighs.

Zayn wonders out loud, “You think we should go out with the others?”

Liam shakes his head, “Just stay here with me.”

Zayn doesn’t argue.

X

Liam likes burying himself in the sheets, smelling cigarettes and hearing Zayn’s breathing. It’s his home. He doesn’t need anything else.

Zayn gets up first every morning. He always takes naps during the day so he’s not as tired at night. He rolls out of bed and opens the window, lighting up a cigarette. He leans against the wall and watches as Liam turns in his sleep and curls up to Zayn’s pillow.

When Zayn finishes smoking, he crawls back into bed, trying to gently coax Liam awake with soft kisses and whispers of his name. Liam groans and faces away from Zayn, trying to ignore him. Zayn huffs and leaves the room, brushing his teeth and getting the coffee maker set up.

He picks up dirty clothes around the house and puts them in front of the washing machine for later. He hears a low meow and he looks down at the kitten, “Are you hungry?” Zayn walks to the kitchen and opens a can of cat food, placing it in the bowl. He stands there for a few minutes, simply watching the cat eat while the coffee brews.

“Maybe we should give her a name.”

Zayn turns and looks at Liam, “Look who decided to wake up.”

Liam scoffs, but steps forward and kisses Zayn’s cheek, “I kind of like the name Eve.”

“For a cat?”

“Of course. She looks like an Eve.”

Zayn leans back against the counter, “I suppose she does.” The little kitten looks up and mews. Zayn says, “Eve it is.”

The coffee maker beeps and Liam pours them some, loading his own coffee with sugar. He beams at Zayn, placing his head on his shoulder.

X

When he’s not asleep, Zayn’s almost always drawing. Whether it’s doodles or cartoons or portraits. His favorite subject is Liam. He peers over at him from his position at the desk and starts sketching a rough outline. He has countless pictures of Liam. Smiling, frowning, sleeping. Liam’s always gorgeous.

“Are you drawing me again?” Zayn nods and hears Liam sigh, “There are so many interesting things to draw yet you always choose me.”

“Because you’re beautiful.” Liam doesn’t respond and when Zayn glances over at him, his cheeks are flushed. Zayn averts his gaze and smiles down at his paper. He hears footsteps and feels a hand on his shoulder. Liam presses his lips to his cheek, smoothing down his already flat hair.

It’s an hour later when he finishes. It’s a little messy from where his hand smeared the pencil, but obviously Liam, nonetheless. He shows it to Liam, who just throws his arms around Zayn and whispers, “I love you.”

Zayn puts the paper down and slides his hands under Liam’s shirt, toying with the hem. “I love you too.” He kisses Liam then, running his tongue over his lower lip. Liam seems to relax against him and Zayn grins when Liam threads his fingers in his hair.

X

Zayn props himself up on an elbow, leaning over Liam and biting his neck. Liam rubs his face against the pillow and moans, still asleep. Zayn trails a finger down his side, running gently over soft skin. He hooks two fingers under the waistband of Liam’s briefs, “Liam.”

Liam’s voice comes out rough and muffled, “What?” Zayn doesn’t respond, but starts to slide his briefs down, and Liam lifts his hips, turning around. “Zayn—”

He’s cut off by Zayn’s mouth crashing down against his. Zayn rolls on top of him and Liam sighs, parting his lips. Now fully awake, Liam pushes Zayn’s boxers down and Zayn tugs them off, never pulling away from the kiss. He feels Liam’s erection against his thigh, and he lets his hand brush over it, causing Liam to shudder. “Turn around and arch your back for me, babe.”

Liam flips over onto his stomach and Zayn grabs the lube and slicks up his fingers, sliding one into him. Liam makes a low noise and Zayn shushes him, rubbing his hand over his thigh. He adds another digit, curling his fingers and Liam gasps, shoving himself back against his hand, whimpering helplessly.

“It’s alright, Liam, yeah? You okay?”

Liam nods and Zayn presses a kiss to his spine. He pulls his fingers out when Liam’s relaxed and pushes in, grabbing Liam’s hips tightly. He doesn’t bother going slow, and by the way Liam’s reacting, he doesn’t mind either.

Liam grips the sheets, his face buried in the pillow. He tries to hide a grunt but Zayn grabs his hair, pulling his head back, “Let me hear you, love.”

Liam’s head falls back to the pillow when Zayn lets go, “Fuck, Zayn.” He pants open-mouthed as Zayn slams into him, the headboard hitting the wall slightly. “Please, shit, please.”

Zayn reaches around to wrap a hand around Liam’s cock, earning a high pitched whine as he thrusts into his fist.

And no one can make Liam fall apart like this. No one but Zayn. Zayn leans forward, putting his lips to Liam’s ear, “What do you think people would say if they saw you like this?”

Liam shuts his eyes for a moment and mumbles, “Oh god.” He turns his head and Zayn kisses him, smiling.

Liam loses it first, turning the bed sheets into a sticky mess. Zayn follows not long after, breathing hard against the back of Liam’s neck. He moves off of him and when he looks, Liam’s asleep. The bastard.

X

Liam wakes up with an arm wrapped around his waist and a nose nuzzled into his hair. He doesn’t move, simply listening to Zayn’s breathing. It’s slow and even, and warm. He’s still a bit sleepy and wonders why he even awoke in the first place. Liam’s hip is on a half dry patch of come, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels Zayn’s chest rise and fall against his back. And it’s comforting, in a way.

Zayn’s sleep-rough voice says, “Go back to sleep.”

Liam smiles, and does.

100 Things

2012-04-26T00:09:28Z

previous | next

Click the pictures for the links.

11. NC-17 - In which Liam gets temporary amnesia and forgets things even more important than the fact that he's in a band.

12. NC-17 - Liam is tense and Zayn wants to help.

13. "How'd you know it was that line?"

14. PG-13 - It was fate. Liam was sure of it.

15. NC-17 - "Prompt: Liam and Zayn have sex for the first time and Liam comes too early because of the excitement. He's incredibly embarrassed but Zayn's simply amused, and he's all like 'it's okay babe, I'll just make you come again.'"

16. Zayn gets his first kiss when he's seventeen.

17. R - What happened after Liam got injured at the Tinie Tempah gig?

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