#Happy Easter I have a cold and I don’t feel well but my dog is right here with me

[bakuraryxu]

maybe my dog doesn’t cuddle or like kisses like my last dog but she will follow me into every room and hang out with me

[wiypt-writes]

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

 Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

 Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13​ who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13​ and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​’s  Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

“Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.  

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed.  So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

[crowdedimagines]

watermelon sugar - harry styles

i’m sure that a lot of people are writing about this or something similar since the music video just came out, but i hope this is new and everyone enjoys:) (Also sorry if I used your names as some of the models, I made them up as I went lol)

“Are you sure about this?” I ask while adjusting the strap of my swimsuit over my shoulder. I catch his eyes in the reflection from the mirror in front of me. I’ve only been sitting in the chair for a few minutes, the makeup is very minimal for the shoot.

“Absolutely.” Harry takes a step forward and hugs me from behind. “They don’t know we’re dating yet, and then once we decide we’re ready it’ll be a fun little easter egg for them to discover”

“Only, if you’re one hundred percent sure. I don’t want us getting out there before you want it to.”

“Of course, love.” He leans forward to press a kiss to my temple, “I think it’s only right to have the muse for the music in the video.”

Harry gets called to set shortly after that and I go hang out with the other girls for the shoot while they get everything ready and Harry films the first scene by himself. It couldn’t have been planned for a better day, the weather is perfect.

“Hey, Y/n.” The girls greet as I walk over.

“Hi!” I smile, I’ve been fortunate enough to meet almost all of them already. We had a few test shots together to get over with before today. All of them have been beyond kind and more than happy to keep Harry and I’s relationship a secret. Sometimes I think they’re more in love with our relationship than I am, which is saying something.

It wasn’t hard for them to figure out between the whispering and the glances exchanged. Plus Harry can be a very affectionate person, and he doesn’t want to hide our relationship from anyone, but the press.

“How’s it going?” Angela asks, everyone looks over the options from craft services.

“It’s alright, I’m excited. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I find that hard to believe!” Heather chimes in, “You could easily be a model. I could totally refer you to my agency.”

“Well, let’s just see how today goes.” I laugh.

I never saw myself as a model, I know that I’m attractive, but never saw myself to that level of desirable. Harry has helped my confidence in so many ways. He can find beauty in almost anything.

“Who here needs sunnies?” One of the assistants on set asks as she lugs a basket with a variety of them.

All of us move forward to look at the options, attempting to match them with our outfits. They all have funky shapes and a colorful tint.

“How about these?” I ask, throwing on a purple pair. I pose a few times making everyone laugh.

“No way.” Jen pulls them off with a giggle, “Blue is totally your color for the day. It matches.”

I take the shades she hands me and my view takes on a blue haze.

“They’re not too big for my face?”

“I think they look great.” A  familiar voice calls over my shoulder.

“You think?” I bite my bottom lip, hiding a smile. “I’m not quite sure I’m sold. I feel very blue.”

“I like them.” He pulls them off my face and puts them on himself. He checks his reflection and smiles, a sure sign that he probably wants to steal them.

“I think they look better on you.” I peck his lips, “You have a big head.”

“Hey!” He pouts, wrapping his arms around my waist as his head drops to my shoulder. I laugh and wrap my arms back around his shoulders, rubbing up and down his back.

“It’s a compliment! I need to find a new pair to wear though seeing as you’ve taken mine.” I turn as best as I can with Harry still weighing me down, not relenting his grip.

“One pair left.” Andy hands me the last pair and I thank her. She hands me a red pair that I tuck on the top of my head just in time for us to start filming.

“C’mon love, I know you can do better than that. I’ve seen ya do it better.” He teases, a proud smirk hiding behind the camera.

“Yeah, usually it doesn’t involve a whole crew staring at me.” I give him a dirty look.

Of course faking an orgasm on camera in front of a whole crew would be something easy to him.

“Do we have any tequila on set?” I tease.

“Y/n, it’s not even noon.” Harry reminds with a laugh.

“Says you.” I roll my eyes.

It takes some time and letting lose a little to get shots that look good. It got easier each shot we did. We got several takes that the director and Harry approved of.

If you had told me a year ago that I would be faking an orgasm in a swimsuit on a beach with a watermelon between my legs, I would’ve called you crazy.

“You did it, love.” He tackles me down in the sand. He knew that this was the part that I was least excited for.

“Hey, you got sand all over my watermelon.” I look at the slice that he’s successfully knocked onto the beach.”

“Oh is it now?” He raises his brows, a wide smirk gracing his face.

“Shut up!” I push him off.

“You set yourself up for that one!” He calls after, still laughing.

The other girls film some takes and I’m relieved to have some of the pressure gone. It settles me a little that some of the other girls struggle too, trying not to laugh.

We move on to the next scene which is a group scene. We’re all laid out on the beach, Harry central to everyone. He kept trying to pull me in closer, but I fought to stay by some of the other girls.

“This is just supposed to hint at our relationship, Styles.” I pull my ankle from his grip.

“But, I want to be next to you.” He pouts.

“Aww.” Heather sighs, giving me puppy dog eyes.

“If you feel so bad, you can kiss him for this.” I tell her with a laugh, laying back down on my beach towel.

“Ya don’t even want to kiss yer own boyfriend?” He huffs. He scoots a little closer and reaches an arm out. I expect him to run a hand through my hair, but I’m surprised when he pulls my sunglasses off my face.

“Would you stop stealing my sunglasses?” I yell trying to reach for my pair back. He pulls me close to his side, locking his arms around my waist.

“You just make them look so cute.” He grins.

“Ass.” I mutter as I wiggle from his grip.

“Excuse me, miss, what was that?” He laughs pulling me in closer.

“Get off me.” I can’t fight off the laughter anymore.

We start filming and it takes a lot of shots to get a good mix of everything. Harry being fed fruit, Harry admiring all us girls, and just a lot of overall touching. Touching is a common thread in this video. Heather and Nadra end up being the girls to kiss him on the cheek, but I give in when Harry wants to lay on my chest and be the one to feed him. I’m sure we got a lot of bloopers from it because there were many takes that one of us would breakout laughing.

We move to the next location where we are all supposed to take a group picture, eat more watermelon, and fall into a big group of touching again.

Harry’s fingers are intertwined with mine while my limbs are tangled with someone I’ve only met twice. We lay around for a while, for a full day on set with filming it’s kind of relaxing. We move on to the next bit right after, everything between scenes moving quickly. We’re attempting to film it all in one day so avoid lighting issues between days.

“You better lookout, you keep making music videos with orgys and you’ll get a reputation.” I tease, whispering over his shoulder.

“You’re so in for it when we get home.” He shakes his head while still smiling at the camera.  

“Can’t wait.” I smile.

The other girls laugh, of course they heard our conversation we’re all standing or sitting close together for the picture and filming everything. I hover over Harry’s shoulder, liking my spot in the back.

“Alright, so we’ve done all the shots for this spot, we’ve just got one left. We saved it for last because it’s when everyone is eating, Everyone try to get Harry to eat your piece.” The director instructs before calling action.

I share a piece with a girl named Adaline before moving in on Harry, I hold out my piece for him, while I lean in closer to him and bite down lightly on his earlobe. I catch his eyes half close for a second and smirk.

Before he knows it, I move on to be with the other girls and the director yells cut.

“You are something else today, baby.” He shakes his head, still seemingly a little dazed.

“C’mon, babe, we only have one more spot to film.”

I reach out my hand for him to follow as we go down to the beach again. The sun is setting now, casting a completely different light from earlier today. Our director informs us that this is just going to be placed between other shots. More montages of us with Harry, running around on the beach.

“Christ, the water is freezing.” Anna takes a step back out of the water's reach. We’re filming in Malibu, but it’s still technically winter so the water isn’t exactly comfortable.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re running.” Harry laughs, “We barely need to get our ankles wet.”

It doesn’t take long to get enough takes, these scenes are supposed to seem carefree, so they aren’t really planned out.

“Alright, I think we’ve got it all.” The director announces and we all let out a cheer. I give the girls all hugs and find Harry thanking them.

“Hey.” I smile, I kick up a small amount of water on his leg to grab his attention. He turns and there’s already mischelf in his smile.

“Don’t you dare.” I hold out a hand to stop him. I recognize that evil look in his eyes. I take off in a sprint, but his long legs don’t take long to catch up. He reaches around and hooks me into his chest. Before I know it, my feet are off the ground and Harry and I are going in. The water was cold before, but now that I’m enveloped in it, it’s freezing.

Harry and I both come up sputtering for air.

“You ass.” I fight and wrestle with him trying to pull him under again. We’re both laughing while fighting for the upperhand.

“Alright, lets go.” He pulls me up with him. I pull him down one more time, this time for a long kiss. HIs lips are warm and familiar. We walk up the shore a little bit, finding the crew again.

“Thank you for today.” His arm wraps around my shoulder. We both found towels to fight off the teeth chattering.

“Of course, I had so much fun.” I grin. “Plus, I think I’ve made some new friends.”

“That’s lovely. Now let’s get you home.” He pats my bum and scoops up my legs and takes off running.

~

We filmed the video months ago, and today is the day it’s finally released. It’s been done for a while now, but Harry thought with quarantine and everything it might be a nice pick me up for everyone.

“Ready?” Harry asks as he pulls up the video on the TV.

“Yes! It’s been killing me not seeing it.”

Harry has been in the know of everything, giving his input and changing parts that he wants to. I have been in the dark to it all, seeing the video at the same time as the world. As soon as the music starts and the screen starts to play it a smile grows on my face.

“Oh my god, it’s Angela, and Heather, and Nadra, and Adeline!” I name each girl as they come across the screen. “I miss them.”

I have to fight the urge to cringe when it’s me on the screen. It’s beautifully done, a masterpiece, but I don’t want to think about my parents seeing this.

“Alright, we get it love, you’re friends with em all now.” He teases.

“Shut up!” I slap his chest, “You kind bond with someone when you film a clothed orgy with them.”

Harry’s cheeks turn pink while he fights a smirk.

The video continues and it’s a reminder of what an amazing day it was. It’s cool to see the way it was edited. The way all of us girls were blended together, and small touches were magnified. Everything just feels so sexy. I feel Harry poke at my sides any time that it’s the two of us on the screen, which I have to say might be a tad bit more than other girls. I know for sure that the other girls didn’t get an intense slow motion zoom in if they ever nibbled on his ear. Now it’s my turn to blush.

“Baby, you’ve smashed this.” I comment as the video comes to an end.

“You too.” He presses a kiss to my lips.

“I also have a little surprise.” He reaches for his phone from the coffee table.

“And what would that be?” I prompt, turning to face him on the couch, my legs finding home on his lap.

“This.” He hands me his phone and it’s another video from the day. It’s all of the shots that they filmed on the retro camera for film. It’s a lot of behind the scenes, stuff I never even knew that they were filming for.

Harry giving me hugs while I was in hair and makeup.

Harry and I trading off sunglasses, Twice.

Harry and I’s conversation from when we were taking the group photos.

Harry throwing me in the water and us playfully fighting through shivers.

Harry and I walking away on the beach, as he scoops me up and takes off running.

It was all captured, and I was none the wiser.

“What is this?” I smile, handing him his phone back.

“The video I’m posting...tonight. To confirm our relationship, because I don’t want to hide you anymore. I want everyone to know you’re mine, Especially after that video.” He smirks.

“I love you.” I sigh, pressing my lips to his a few times.

“I love you too.”

“Play it again.” I lay my head back on his shoulder.

“Just for you, sugar.” Harry grins.

this was cute, hope you enjoyed:)

[stutterfly]

Snow, Don’t Tell (M) | PJM

Granny Park’s Gossip:

Jimin is the sweetest boy around, no comparison. Always ready to listen to my stories, visits me regularly and tells me all sorts of tales about those friends of his. Might as well adopt them all, I know so much about them! Jiminie’s the best grandson anyone could ask for, really, a little angel, and his little gang of friends is quite the hoot. He’s been a little quiet about himself lately, though. Kept going on and on about that neighbor of his, how cute she always looks and how he likes to help her with her groceries, but I think maybe I teased him just a little too much about that crush of his. Maybe he’ll figure out a way to get closer to her this holiday season, because who knows how much longer he’ll pine over the girl if he doesn’t. 

       ❄  Word Count: 27.2k

       ❄ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

       ❄ Genre:  Neighbors AU / Friends to Lovers / Fluff / Smut / Humor

       ❄ Rating: 18+ / Explicit

       ❄ CW and other tags: heavy sexual tension, grinding, groping, swearing, kissing, biting, hair pulling, fingering, masturbation, teasing, edging, hickeys/ bruising skin, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, love kink, mentions of threesome, hinted foursome, penetrative sex, protected sex, pinching, pierced nips, tiddyfucking, dirty filthy talk, whiny Jimin, Jimin is a Snake spilling all the tea about his friends, angst, mentioned alcoholism, mentions of toxic parents, some negative self-talk which is quashed by the prince himself, feelings of self-consciousness, insecurities about education, basically a slowburn speedrun that’s wet and wild, second-hand embarrassment, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Jimin is everyone’s therapist, reader is a mess, jimin is a mess too The Snowball Effect Collab Masterlist  This is the first fic the series/project The Snowball Effect. Please click the link above to see the summaries and genres for each fic! Also, while each of these fics can stand on their own, they all end up at the same place, occurring simultaneously. There are also little easter eggs and secrets for the other fics woven throughout each of these! For the biggest, fluffiest Snowball Effect experience, we highly recommend you read each of them! Do not repost.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

‘Thank you’ is a powerful phrase. It can hold so much joy, affirmation, and even love. True gratitude is more than a word; it's a feeling. It's those unexpected, kind gestures when everything is falling apart: the small smile across the room to ease the tension, the jokes shared to lighten the load of a stressful existence, or the quarters spent drying a neighbor's laundry.

There's nothing quite like being appreciated, nothing quite like someone else being thoughtful for once, nothing quite like someone saying, "I know you didn't have to do it but you did, and I can't express what it means to me." Okay, so sometimes they don't say it, but it's strongly implied.

Around this time each year work grows incredibly stressful. Everyone is trying to push their work onto someone else's desk and leave the office in hopes of enjoying some time with family and friends. Taking off the last two weeks of the year seemed like a no-brainer. So why is it so hard to turn off the screen and actually do that?

Click. Click.

Another email answered, another client getting their response before the new year. Dark, tired eyes lazily drift across the computer screen, fluttering a moment until he catches his head leaning forwards and sits up straight with a shake of his head. How many more emails can there possibly be? Jimin stretches his arms towards the ceiling and slowly rolls onto his back, resting his head against the plush carpet of his living room. Aren't vacations supposed to be a time of relaxation and fun? Isn't he supposed to be able to turn on his out-of-office message, leave the post-it note on his monitor, and trust in his coworkers? A heavy sigh escapes him and a frustrated groan rumbles in his throat. "Why can't I just turn it off?"

Stifling a yawn, he pulls the phone from his pocket to check the time. Six fifteen. Why am I so tired already? Should I get some dinner?

He blinks a few times, feeling his eyelids grow heavier with each pass they make across his eyes. Still holding the phone, his hand slowly descends until the device is pressed flat onto his chest. He's teetering into a dream when the unmistakable jingle of keychains clattering against one another echoes in the hallway. His eyes immediately snap open, and he brings his phone up again. Oh shit. It's Thursday.

The device slips through his fingers and smacks against his forehead. As he rubs his temple to soothe the dull ache beginning to form, he ponders whether the phone is to blame or if work is the true culprit. Resting his head against the plush carpeting, he blankly stares at the ceiling and loses himself in quiet meditation, thoughtlessness consuming every second that passes. A small sound pokes through the barrier of silence, a muffled humming just barely passing through the wall beyond the couch.

Jimin lifts his head just enough to peer down his body, focusing just beyond the laptop at the wall separating his apartment from yours. The humming continues and he curiously tilts his head towards the sound, as though he can make his ears listen harder than they already are. What are you singing tonight, Snow?

He rolls over, twisting his torso just enough to rest on his elbows as he closes his eyes, hoping turning off one sense will heighten the other. Instead, he begins to imagine you frantically ripping off your work clothes in an attempt to enjoy your evening as fast as possible, quickly donning some thin tanktop you've saved as your last article of clean clothing for the week. You're always braless in the laundry room, your cold, hardened nipples poking out from beneath the flimsy fabric stretched tight around your chest. But it's never thin enough to be as transparent as he would like. His tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before dragging his teeth over his bottom lip.

The humming wavers between louder and softer as you run between rooms, no doubt collecting everything as fast as possible in case he beats you there. Should he let you win this time?

"Baby, you're a fiiiiiiiiirework!" you belt out, very off-key before mumbling the rest of the lyrics you clearly don't know and slowly going back into a hum.

Laughter spills from Jimin's lips like a water fountain in hopes that it's loud enough for you to hear. When you continue on your tune without missing a beat, he leans back, his laughter dissipating into a wide smile as he slowly rises from the floor.

The laundry bin sits by the door, a pitifully small amount of dirty clothes resting in the bottom of it. He presses his lips together a moment before gathering clean clothes from the hangers in his closet and tossing them on the pile. Opening the door, he grabs the basket, casually strolling past your door and down the hall into the laundry room.

No one else seems to do laundry on Thursday nights. It's no doubt why you chose it as the time to do yours. One of the two washers is always busted. Tonight, however, both seem to be functioning. That won’t do. Jimin hoists himself on top of the machines, giving himself enough leverage to unplug the one that’s always falling into disrepair. Luckily the service ticket has been discarded recently. He pulls it from the top of the exposed trash bin in the corner and places it on top of the “broken” washing machine. He quickly starts loading his laundry into the functioning machine, humming the same tune he heard you singing earlier.

You don’t mind working during the holiday season. Everyone has somewhere to go, family to see. You gladly volunteer to work the shifts no one wants to distract yourself from the fact that you don’t. Overtime pay doesn’t hurt either. It’s easier to take your mind off of the disappointment that family-oriented holidays bring when you have cute little customers to send home happy and clean. Unfortunately, you always seem to get filthy in the process of making that happen.

The pile of dirty fabrics layered in your laundry basket tells you that you should probably start a load before showering if you want to have anything semi-clean to wear tomorrow. Plus, if you want to beat your neighbor to the good machine, you’ll need to hustle. Despite the sweat dripping down your neck, you don your favorite zip-up hoodie to attempt to hide the fact that your bra is in the bin with all the other items slated for a good wash.

You catch yourself in the mirror just before picking up the basket, oversized jacket sliding one of your shoulders and exposing your skin to the chill of the apartment. You’re torn between wanting Jimin to see you like this and hoping that you’ll only see him after showering, as you’re fairly certain you still smell like wet dog.

There’s an undeniable tension cutting through the air any time you’re in a room together, but you’re too much of a chickenshit to do anything about it. You’ve convinced yourself that there’s no way someone as perfect-looking as Jimin could be actually interested in you. You want the flirting and the nights spent watching garbage TV together to lead to something real, but fantasizing about how you’d knock on his door simply to confess your attraction is a lot safer than actually doing it.

Down the hall you go, lifting the heavy basket just past the threshold and dragging it across the carpeted hallway. You pop out one of the headphones in your ears so that no one can sneak up on you as you round the corner to the laundry room. Kicking the basket with your foot, it smacks into the door and you awkwardly reach over the pile of clothes to swing it open. The plastic scrapes across the tile and your field of vision travels from the floor to the machine currently filling with water.

Jimin sits on top of the washer with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded around his knee. A smug grin adorns his features as his eyes roam over your form, drinking in the surprise you offer so freely.

"I beat you again this week, Snow," he teases, bouncing his crossed leg a few times with a mischievous tilt of his head.

A puff of hot air passes through your parted lips, clearly not expecting the man to be waiting so patiently for your arrival. Your nose scrunches up in disapproval as you take a few steps towards him, hands on your hips. "You know I get home late on Thursdays. Can't you let me win for once?"

"Oh, you want me to take it easy on you?" He tuts, tongue poking into the side of his cheek for a moment. He uncrosses his legs and uses his palms to lean forward, raising his eyebrows. He pauses once he's inches from your face, letting the shallow space between you build the tension you've become accustomed to. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing the urge to close the distance between you. "What sounds like fun to you then?"

The way his smile falters as his eyes fill with devious wonder causes your heart to skip a beat. You swallow hard as his gaze blatantly drops to your chest and his tongue slowly rolls across his lips. Your first instinct is to cover the nipples you know are practically poking holes through your tanktop, but you power through the shame burning your cheeks long enough for his eyes to finish their journey down your body. When they settle on yours again, they definitely seem darker, full of hunger.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "But they're a secret." He giggles, a shy smile cutting the devilish tone from his words.

It's a deep enough cut through the thick tension that you can take a step back and release the breath you've unknowingly been holding. You roll your eyes and sigh as you note the repair ticket on the machine beside him. "Well, looks like I'll have to wait until you're done." You hoist the basket of dirty laundry onto the seemingly broken washer beside him, carefully taking out the small container of detergent stuffed towards the top. The words come out before you can stop them. "Do you have a big load?"

He drags his teeth over his lips a few times and allows his smile to grow impossibly wider. "You're talking about laundry, right?"

You clumsily fumble with the bottle of detergent until it hits the washer with a loud bang, trying to recover from your poorly-worded question as you position the container upright and eye the empty bin beside him."Yes. The load! It looks! ....Big... A big... Load. Did you stuff it all in there?" The thoughts pricking your tongue are short and choppy, full of regret and horny confusion.

There's no way to hide the mental images playing in your mind of Jimin taking you from behind, emptying himself into you. There's no way to hide the way you want to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth until he gives you the load you can't stop talking about.

He purses his lips and raises his eyebrows at you again, offering another chance for you to rephrase. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could phase through the floor instead of dealing with the meltdown your brain is obviously having. "I just... Don't break it by stuffing it too full, y'know?"

Jimin snickers behind his hand. "Don't worry. I was able to fit everything in, but it's a reasonable size."

"Knock on my door when you're done," you say quietly, ashamed by the lack of bloodflow in your own head.

You turn to leave but Jimin grabs your wrist, causing you to spin back towards him. "Wait..."

He leans in, strawberry blonde hair falling across his face as he tries to get your attention with eyes that threaten to pierce into your very soul. His head swerves left and right and you mirror his movements to avoid eye contact.

“Look at me,” he pleads, throaty whine ripping through the base of his chest despite the smile on his lips. “Please?”

Your eye flicker to meet his, a pout staining your features that you hope will mask your embarrassment long enough to return to the safety of your apartment. “What?”

“Would you… Like to come over and watch a movie?” Despite the cheesy grin on his face, his voice falters and the tips of his ears are bright red. “I ordered pizza. I don’t think I can eat it all myself and I don't like leftovers.”

You know he has his shy side, but any time it peeks out from behind his confident persona, it still manages to catch you off guard. You do your best not to sound too eager, but you can feel the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and traveling up your chest. They’re telling you to screech your answer until your lungs quit burning.

It’s not like he’s never invited you over his apartment before. You've shared many pizzas, and takeout boxes over trashy reality TV for the past few months. But this thing you two have been dancing around is finally pushing your hormones to a breaking point. He seems interested, but always hesitates, letting moments pass that would be better spent pressing himself into your body or running his tongue across your neck.

It occurs to you that maybe he just likes to tease for some harmless fun and the prospect of things going any further with you isn’t part of the game. Maybe you’re just projecting your desires onto him. His jaw goes slack as you lean towards him, melting beneath his gaze. Dark eyes drift across your chest again, shamelessly spacing out when they settle on the pebbled nipples beneath your shirt.

Then again, maybe you think too much.

Every conversation is deeply rooted in lust, but the flirtatious banter is always coated with a fine film of pleasantries that mask your true intentions. Could he feel the same? If you can just get the static in your brain to subside long enough to form a coherent thought, to allow you to properly express your feelings, maybe you could get an answer out of him. Pushing down the excitement brewing in your gut, your eyes dart away and you nervously clear your throat.

“I… have to clean mastiff spit out of my hair,” you begin, your heart snapping in two when you catch the smile fade with the light in his eyes. “But… I’d love to come over when I’m finished.”

He visibly perks up and hops down from the washer, casually gesturing at the digital timer on its screen. “Meet back here in twenty?”

You unconsciously bite your lip, grinning like an idiot as you make your exit. “It’s a date.”

As the door to the laundry room clicks shut, Jimin bobs his head in disbelief a few times. This time you used the word ‘date.’ Tonight can’t be another movie night where he freezes up. No horror. No action movies or thrillers. It’s time to pick out some cute rom-com for you both to giggle along to, hopefully with an extra mushy scene he can use to set the mood. He jumps in the air, unable to contain his excitement. His cheeks are beginning to hurt with how much smiling he’s been doing, but he doesn’t care. You said it’s a date.

A shiver wracks his body as he closes the door to his apartment. He frowns at the number on the thermostat, quickly pressing the button to raise the temperature until it's obnoxiously higher than it should be. There. It should warm up in no time. He seeks the instant gratification of warmth, however. When it doesn't come he decides the next twenty minutes will be best spent in a hot bath.

He grips the edge of the cold fiberglass surface with his hands, sinking into the steaming water slowly with a satisfied sigh. He tilts his head back, resting it on the tile behind him. The sound of water rushing through your showerhead carries through the wall and he stills all movement, careful not to disturb the surface of the water until he hears the sliding of curtain rings along a metal rod. The pressure of the water pounding against the tub dulls in volume, clearly finding another target to assail. You hiss a string of curses that indicate the temperature is too hot for your liking, but it's far too easy to hear sin in each little gasp you take.

Jimin submerges his hand in the water, leaving the other gripping the edge of the tub. His fingers squeeze the inner flesh of his thigh before forming a tight fist around the base of his hardened cock. He stills, feeling the familiar needy pulse echoing against the grip of his palm, urging him to offer some kind of relief in the form of movement. But he’s determined to listen, straining his ears for any indication of your body’s positioning; what he wouldn’t give to be able to see you right now. What would you do if this wasn’t here? Would you watch me too?

Realizing he’s not going to get much more out of the wall behind him unless you decide to sing, he closes his eyes. It’s almost too easy to imagine the water pelting the tender flesh of your breasts. He can thank the thin fabric of your tanktops for that. The cleavage and pebbled nipples constantly drawing his attention away from your face has created a mirage in his mind that’s almost believable. Stray droplets roll down your body in places he knows his tongue could do a much better job covering. His thumb brushes up and down preemptively against his cock, doing everything he can to show restraint just in case you decide to part those pretty lips of yours and sing for him.

Finally he drags his palm up his shaft, finding a rhythm that begins to ease the throb building in his abdomen. He thinks of standing in that shower with you, strands of sopping wet hair sticking to his face as his mouth collides with the delicate skin of your chest. He thinks of tonguing one nipple and licking a stripe to the other. He thinks of using his hands to massage and squeeze at the heavenly mounds of flesh before him as the water beats down on the pair of you. Most importantly, he thinks of you pleading for more. All restraint he previously showed comes crashing down for a fraction of a second. The moan that rips itself from his throat is shameful enough to bring a blush to his own cheeks, and it’s absolutely loud enough to carry through the walls. Did you hear that? ...Did you like it?

Before he can consider pausing to listen for a subtle response, the loud thud of what sounds like a heavy plastic container hitting your floor breaks him from his daydream. Did I catch you off guard? Jimin does nothing to subdue the cackle spewing from his mouth. You certainly didn’t earn your nickname for your grace. Gradually he picks up the pace, allowing his fist to glide from the base of his cock to the exposed tip poking out of the water. The wet sloshing sound his fist makes as it bobs up and down is enough to drive him over the edge, imagining what it might be like to fuck himself down your throat. A growl starts low in his chest and builds into a whine as it tumbles from his mouth.

The glistening studs in his nipples rhythmically heave with each greedy breath, already cold and hard from the exposure to the air. His free hand instinctively moves to pinch the bit of flesh trapped between one of the studs. The sting adds a new wave of pleasure to the way his hand plunges down into the water and up again. He pants into the air, wishing you were the force guiding the hand over his shaft, creating the pressure and wetness trapped between his fingers.

He thinks of you on the other side of this wall, soapy suds running down your perfect tits, your stomach, your legs. What he wouldn’t give to be on his knees between those legs, latching onto your pussy and performing sinful tricks with pressured flicks of his tongue. You might want to get clean, but he wants to make you filthy, even as soft citrus-scented suds dribble down your body and onto his face. Would your legs buckle under the pleasure? He considers hooking his arms around your legs and leaning you back against the wall for better leverage, sucking on that sensitive, swollen bud as the water cascades down his back. What do you sound like when you really sing?

Almost perfectly timed, a moan breaks through the sound of his frenzied pelvic thrusts sloshing up into his fist. A particularly jagged exhale leaves his lips as he slows, the water undulating like angry waves crashing into one another. Click. Click. Click. The sound of the water pressure in your shower changes drastically. Jimin’s whole body convulses as he realizes what you’re doing. He plants his feet on the wall above the faucet, bending his knees so he can sink down into the tub up to his jaw.

He’s been in your apartment. He’s seen the handheld attachment. Closing your transparent shower curtains for company doesn’t mean it’s suddenly invisible. He holds back a curse as you cry out in pleasure again. This time you sound close to the wall beside him. Too close. You’re doing this on purpose. Do you want me to listen? Two can play at this game, Snow.

He drags his teeth over his lip and pumps himself fast, water spilling from the tub and flooding the cold tile flooring. Loud, unrestrained groans fill the air as the water sloshes between his palm and cock, creating a very wet, obscene squelching sound. He straightens his legs against the wall to bring himself up to a relaxed position as he gasps for release, trying not to drown in the water rolling back and forth in the tub.

It’s almost too cute the way he imagines your face is changing color right now. To his surprise you immediately retaliate with a slew of vulgar curses and frantic pleading. Electric butterflies pulse through his abdomen, quickening the pace at which his climax is travelling. It’s so close now; he can’t even pretend like that didn’t just affect him.

“Y/N…. Please… Come over… Ah...” he moans against the wall, knowing you’re panting just on the other side.

“Oh, fuck… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you warn in a shrill whisper, volume growing with each repetition until you’re practically shrieking. Just at the peak of your frenzied inhales, your voice dips into a low breathy whimper that he can barely make out. “Jimin… I’m cumming. Fuck...”

He slows his movements so he can better listen to you reach your climax, hearing his name on your lips just before losing the ability to listen to anything over his own thrashing in the water. His palm glides down his cock and back up, desperate to meet his own release. He’s got your voice in his head notifying him you’re about to cum on repeat. It drives him over the edge.

He groans, using pressure and strength to stroke himself one last time as ropes of white begin to shoot straight up towards the ceiling like a fountain and land back in the water. He pumps himself through it, riding each wave of pleasure until he’s sure he’s milked every drop of cum from his cock and the fountain of white subsides. He falls back and lets his arms go limp in the water. Now he’s the one who needs a shower.

Despite wanting to show off a little skin for your date with Jimin, there’s a chill in the complex that seems to permeate deep into your skin, digging straight down to your bones. Even the memory of your bold behavior in the shower can’t keep the heat circulating through your body. By the time you realize how long it has taken you to will yourself from the steamy bathroom, apply some “low-effort” makeup, and wiggle into a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you’re ashamed to have missed the window for your meeting by ten minutes.

You sprint down the hall in an oversized hoodie, desperate to apologize for your tardiness. The electric hum of the dryer greets you, and the washing machine previously occupied by Jimin’s belongings thrums nearby, but he’s nowhere to be found. Your laundry bin sits on top of the washer, its contents within the machine below. The backside of the repair ticket has been scribbled on and left beside your bin. ‘Are you still coming, Snow? ;)’

The ticket crumples in your palm as you stuff it in the cavity of your sweatshirt and make your way back towards Jimin’s door, holding back the nerves swirling in your chest. You want to scream in excitement, but that’s probably not an acceptable reaction, even though you reason with yourself that it is a very human one considering how long you've waited for an opportunity like this.

The door swings open before you can knock, a very bundled up Jimin puffing his cheeks out at you. For a moment you mistake his expression for one of annoyance at you. "The heat is out. Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"I just got an email from the leasing office. They don't know when it will be fixed. They're urging people to buy heaters and get reimbursed for them later," he mumbles, looking down at his phone and re-reading the message as you brush past him, immediately discarding your furry slippers as you go. The carpeting in his apartment feels so much better than yours.

"That explains why I can't stop shivering," you sigh. On your next inhale, the smell of pepperoni wafts into your nostrils, and you make a beeline for the small dining room table across the room, noting the closed box on top of it.

"At least they're offering to take money off of rent 'due to inconvenience.'" Jimin scrunches up his nose, shuffling his sulking form towards you. "But I don't want to go buy a heater."

You already have a slice of pizza stuffed in your mouth when you absentmindedly try to answer. "Ihaabwon." The words are a garbled mess.

His eyes meet yours and you nearly choke, embarrassed for trying to speak with your mouth full. The hand still clutching his phone falls to his side and he grins at you with devilish intent, eyes crinkling in the corners. "You're so cute when your mouth is stuffed."

You chew a few times and swallow hard. When you find the nerve to speak, your voice comes out smaller and softer than you'd like. "...I have one. I'll go get it."

Damn it. What happened to being bold? Maybe you'd be faring better if your heart wasn't pounding so damn fast. Despite this, none of your blood seems to be circulating properly to your fingers, your toes, or even your brain at this junction. You're suspicious it's all being funneled into your swollen clit, which has only just stopped tingling from the barrage of pressure you'd exposed it to. Regardless, you gobble down the rest of the slice as you exit, telling yourself you can't let your nerves get the better of you again. Tonight has already proven you can be braver than you think, and it's time to embrace it.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when you finally work up the courage to place your hand on his, finding it just as cold and clammy as yours. He gives it a gentle squeeze and twines your fingers together without looking away from the screen. Your rapid heartbeat threatens to give away every ache his touch soothes. You do your best to focus on the flimsy plot of the film, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to finally have his palm pressed against yours.

The space heater across the room rattles, fruitlessly pumping out a stream of hot air that never quite makes it over to the pair of you. It’s now that you’re just noticing the soft glow of yellow string lights, creating a cozy atmosphere that you wish could be half as warm as it looks. You chew your lip as you pretend to watch the screen, feeling the weight of his head coming to rest on your shoulder. You try to avoid the thought of how badly you have to pee right now, resisting the urge to bounce your leg to stave off the sensation. The universe is too cruel.

Suddenly Jimin’s pocket begins buzzing. He pulls out his phone and silences the vibrations, groaning as he turns his face towards your shoulder. “Ugh. Laundry is done. I need to go get it...”

As he rises you feel his hand turn over yours a few times, gently caressing the length of your fingers as though he’ll never feel them again. You move to stand but he presses his palm into your shoulder, encouraging you to stay put. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, ok? Keep my seat warm.”

You melt into the cushion, grinning foolishly at the wink he gives you before wrapping a blanket around himself and leaving. Trembling hands fumble for the remote control, pausing the movie to hopefully drag out the time you’ll spend with him tonight. You have ample time to relieve the pressure on your bladder, nearly breaking your neck on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

Despite the crumpled proof sitting in your pocket, or your aversion to speaking on what you suspected was only a fucked-out fantasy, the amount of water lingering on that floor confirms its authenticity. Can you really pretend like you didn’t get off just listening to him moan and touch himself? Can you really pretend like he didn’t get off listening to you? You settle down in front of the space heater, warming your fingers on the hot air with a satisfied sigh and spacing out as you lose yourself in the memory.

Jimin returns from laundry duty after a few minutes, but you’re focused on the heat, closing your eyes and trying to get the chill out of your bones. He waddles his laundry bin to the corner of the room, setting it down before creeping up behind you. Soft fleece wraps around shoulders along with his curve of his arms. It’s warm, incredibly soft, and it smells of fresh linen fabric softener.

“You weren’t keeping my spot warm.” The chiding nature of his tone is undercut by the breathy whisper and pillowy lips thawing the cold shell of your ear.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promise, eyes still closed when you turn your face towards the tickling sensation.

"Oh? Really?" Supple lips skim against your cheek, but he doesn't move any closer. "How?"

You exhale a ragged breath, trying to find the will to close the distance between your lips. All it would take is a nudge, just a subtle turn on your part to do so. But, like always, you freeze. How ridiculous is it that you can mutually masturbate, but sharing a kiss is somehow beyond your courage?

"I'll... keep you warm now. I'm all toasty, see?" Your palm, now slightly less frigid but still equally clammy, cups his chin as you tap your fingers against his cheek.

"I see..." he hums in disapproval, weight of his chin resting on your cold hand. "It seems like you need more time to defrost, but if you come back to the couch with me we can share this blanket I threw in the dryer with your clothes for a few minutes.”

"Hmph, are you saying I wouldn't do a good job keeping you warm?"

You can feel the twitch of his lips against your palm, shy smile forming. "Your hands are still so cold! I'm sure you have your ways. But..." He pauses, gentling bringing his thumb and forefinger across your jawline before pressing them together below your chin. "I'd love to see what they are."

You half-giggle, half-scoff at him. He’s laying it on thick tonight, but it’s not like you mind. In fact, you don’t want the night to end because of it. You both settle in on the couch with Jimin draping the soft blanket across you, remnants of a faint heat in its fibers. Just as the movie resumes, Jimin starts curling the blanket in his fingers, which causes the material to billow in his lap. It’s not like it’s a small blanket, but over the course of a few minutes you’re left with practically no coverage.

“Thief,” you finally accuse, fingers clutching the remaining edge slipping past your shoulder.

He blinks and stares back at you with a surprised smile. “Hmm? We’re sharing aren’t we?”

You roll your eyes and snuggle closer in an attempt to siphon back some coverage. Still his fingers twine the blanket in circles, inching the material further off the slope of your body. Your fingers slither across his chest and down the curve of his arm in search of the hand robbing you of heat. Neither of you are even pretending to watch the movie anymore. He tries to slink back into the cushion, smiling at your futile attempts to free the fabric from his grasp.

“You stop that,” you whisper, leaning against his chest and losing yourself in the way his eyes seem to twinkle in the golden glow of the lights circling the room. When you finally make contact with the fist curled in the blanket, he immediately drops the fabric and clamps down to lace your fingers with his.

“Make me,” he pleads through half-lidded eyes, tongue swiping a quick line across his lips.

You return the pressure on your palm with a squeeze of your own, pressing the back of his hand into the cushion beside him. “Fuck,” you breathe.

Your eyelids flutter for half a second; the electric chill running through your body may be caused by the temperature or simply the way his neck dips to lower his face down to yours. Either way, your breath hitches and you hook your leg over his lap. He takes this as an invitation to slide his free arm around your back, ready to press you even further into his body should you give him a signal to proceed.

You lean further across his lap, arching yourself up into him. “Is that what you want? You want me to make you?” you whisper curiously, lips grazing his as the questions spill from them.

“Please,” he whines breathlessly, voice cracking.

You close the gap with a sly, teasing smile, hungrily smashing your mouths together as though tasting every bit of him will sate that hunger. The hand currently sinking into the couch flies up to his jaw, thumb tracing a line over its contours as you’ve been aching to do for ages. He uses the opportunity to cradle the back of your head, gently positioning it in a way that puts less of a strain on his neck while the hand at your back coaxes you desperately towards him in a lopsided embrace.

The ebb and flow of your kisses have your heads bobbing in time with one another. He inhales greedily over your mouth, immediately coming back down to suck your bottom lip between his teeth. A small satisfied sigh lingers in your throat, and you feel his hand clamp down on the thigh you have spread over his lap.

Just as gravity starts to drive your form further from his embrace, you shift your weight and shimmy your arm out from where it’s trapped against his body. He allows you to pull away for just a moment, your lip snapping back to you with a soft, wet smack. You flit your tongue out to savor any sliver of himself that he’s left behind, already missing the way his tongue tastes when trading exploratory flicks with yours.

Planting your palm into the cushion beside his head, you gain enough leverage to fully straddle his pelvis. You tower above him, relishing in the wonder carved into the way he watches you, mirth creasing thin lines into the outer edges of his eyes. Your thumb glides across his cheek a few times as you lightly cup his jaw with your fingertips, your gaze darting between the reflections of light dancing across his eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admit.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he confesses, maintaining steadfast eye contact as he fights the blush prickling the tips of his ears.

It takes all of your self-restraint not to immediately ask why. Instead a joke forms on your tongue before you can quell it. “It’s the smell of wet dog, right? Drives you crazy?”

He giggles, throwing his head back with a loud inhale. “Irresistible!”

A shy smile parts your lips and you descend on him, crashing your mouth down on his to mute the sound of his laughter. Those gentle giggles quickly morph into muffled moans as your tongue dives into his mouth. It takes less than a second for him to counter your intrusion by sliding his tongue against yours rhythmically and you lose yourself in that hypnotic tempo.

His hands settle the top of your knees before his palms start running up to the crease where your thighs meet your hips and then back down again. Your hips involuntarily begin rocking to combat the need building between your legs, but your leggings have pulled away from your skin in the area you crave friction the most.

A staggered whimper breaks out between your frenzied panting. Whether the sound came from him or from you, it’s hard to tell. The few times you’ve opened your eyes to make sure you haven’t been dreaming, he’s looked just as fucked out as you feel. He starts drawing deep circles along the inside of your thighs with his thumbs and your need for him challenges your need to breathe. Gasping for air between wet, sloppy kisses, you card your fingers through his hair, knotting them in place as you roll your body in time with the tongue gliding against yours. This time he blows a puff of air as he moans into you, greedily latching onto your lip and biting down as the sound leaves a croaky trail in his throat.

Sliding his hands along the tops of your thighs isn’t enough. He spreads his fingers; the edge of his thumbs flare towards the inside of your legs, forging a path up towards your clit. The way the material stretches away from your body causes him to abandon his route in favor of following the fabric tucked in that v-shaped channel leading up to your hips. His touch is too light with the layers you’re wearing, but you don’t have time to file a complaint before he slides his fingers beneath your sweatshirt, clamping them down on your skin.

“Ah!” you hiss between kisses, hips wiggling at the chill creeping up your spine. “Your hands--” You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s biting down hard again and dragging your lower lip through his teeth. “--arr sho--” Your lip snaps back to you, breaking away just long enough to speak in broken gasps before he closes the distance again. “-cold!”

He laughs against your whine, gripping your back and sneaking both thumbs beneath the waistband of your leggings. “Weren’t you going to warm me up?” You can feel him guiding your hips, dragging them in asymmetric loops over his lap.

“Weren’t you going to share the blanket?” you chide, breaking the kiss again.

He grins, gripping a corner of the blanket and throwing it over your shoulder. “I did. Now come back.” He eagerly tries to goad you back to his lips, but you pull back just a bit.

“There are better ways I can warm your hands,” you mumble, yanking his hair to the side to expose his lovely neck, golden skin riddled with goosebumps. Your mouth gets to work kissing and sucking on the sensitive, uncovered bit of flesh, gushing a little bit when he groans beneath you. But it’s not enough. If only your pants weren’t in the way, you could certainly warm more than just his hands.

He gives your hips a firm squeeze, digging his fingers into the soft flesh at your sides. “What ways are those?”

“Take off your sweater,” you tempt in a whisper, dragging your tongue up to his ear. “And I’ll show you.”

He frowns as you lean back, giving him space to do as you’ve suggested. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your sweatshirt, frown morphing into a devilish smile. “You first.”

“I… don’t have anything on underneath,” you admit, shying away from him.

He slips his hands around your jaw, pulling you forward. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“There’s no heat,” you remind him, mimicking his movements and tapping your fingers against his cheek.

“So you want me to take off mine?” he asks, feigning offense. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, dipping his head forward and following your movements. “That seems kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

Your confidence wanes and you squirm under his scrutiny, feeling particularly stupid for trying to be sexy. Sexy isn’t your thing. Floundering under pressure and saying something dumb is definitely your thing. Sweat runs down your neck, despite the fact that you’re still a walking popsicle. In your defense, the art of botching conversations is a skill that runs in your family.

"You're right," you agree, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. It's freezing. I'm an idiot."

You begin to climb off his lap, but his hands catch your hips and bring you back down. "No, no. You're not." He gently presses his lips against yours. "Don't worry. I know you've got me covered."

With a shit-eating grin, he tugs down on the blanket half-draped across your shoulder. You feel him wiggle beneath you before he leans back and shrugs his arms through the holes of his sweater, hastily working the material over his head. At least he has a t-shirt on; you don't feel quite so bad now. The flicker of static charges the air around him, strawberry blonde hair fanning out like it has its own sense of gravity. Without a second thought he moves back in to kiss you and an electric shock zaps the place where your lips connect.

"Ah!" you recoil at the sensation and he giggles between peppering your jaw with kisses. It takes all of your willpower to push him back against the cushion. He even gives you a little pout, his bottom lip protruding.

"You're worse than my clients," you tease, flicking your tongue out at him. "Be a good boy."

"I am," he insists while cupping your jaw and trying to drag your neck low enough to latch his lips onto. When he realizes you aren't having it, he snakes his hands down to your ass and gives both cheeks a firm squeeze.

"Liar." Grinning like an idiot, you grab his wrists and pin them to the cushions while you descend, watching his eyes as long as possible before you press your lips against his neck. You catch a bit of skin between your teeth and he hisses like steam is about to start pouring from his ears. Pressing down with the flat of your tongue, you explore the expanse of his neck for the sounds of pleasure you yearn to hear.

"This..." he exhales a lazy moan, trying to fight his body's will to give in but you can already see his resolve is flimsy. "...isn't fair..."

A deep, throaty moan vibrates beneath your tongue; your pussy throbs at the way the croaky sound crosses over into a melodic hum as you massage wet circles deeper into that spot where his collarbone and neck meet. Another moan escapes him between shaky breaths, higher pitched this time, and twice as needy. His wrists twitch against your palms, fingers digging into the cushion beneath him. Yeah. You want to live in this spot indefinitely.

"Hey..." he trails softly, head falling against the back of the couch. "... You're... Don't leave marks... Snow... hey... Ah... Y/N..."

Your lips smack as you come up for air. He's too drunk on the endorphins swimming through his veins to see your hesitation at the use of your name in lieu of the cute nickname you've grown accustomed to hearing. "You want me to stop?"

He whimpers, self-control buckling faster than you can even get the question out. "No, don't stop. Please, don't stop, Y/N."

He doesn't need to say it twice; you’ve been waiting far too long for this. Your tongue is back on that sensitive spot right by his collarbone and he's moaning against your ear in less than a fraction of a second.

“Mmm… you're gonna make me wear high collared shirts, aren't you?" he whispers, half shaming your actions, half just thinking out loud. There's a subtle attempt to grind his pelvis up into the space between your thighs.

You can’t help but laugh against him, tilting your head back just enough to inspect your handiwork. There’s a criss-crossed reddish-purple mark marring his skin, a placeholder to remind you where to place your tongue later. “It kinda looks like a heart if you squint. Don’t worry. It’s low enough the only way anyone will see it is if you’re walking around shirtless.”

He sighs, picking his head off the couch and trying to peek down at it. “I guess I’ll look at it later when I’m thinking of you on top of me like this.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing as he smiles innocently at you.

“...Are your hands still cold?” You’re already dragging his limp wrists up your thighs to the hem of your oversized sweatshirt

The hoods of his eyelids shade the glaze in his eyes, but do nothing for the way his jaw falls open as you continue dragging his hands upwards. You hiss as his fingers apply pressure to your body as they travel upward, leaving chilly streaks in their wake. Without hesitation, you chew your lip and cup your hands over his, pressing them into your tits. You look into his eyes for comfort as blood rushes to your cheeks. His pupils are completely blown out and you feel his labored breathing quicken.

“Is this okay?” you question, experimenting with a slight roll of your hips.

His eyelids flutter a moment as he massages your breasts, squeezing, pushing, pulling them. Your hands fall away to let him explore the hidden shapes beneath your sweatshirt.

“Is this okay she asks…” he giggles mockingly to himself before kneading his thumbs across your hardened nipples. “Do you want to know how much I’m enjoying this?”

He drops one of his hands and uses it to place yours over his pelvis. You press down with your fingers, feeling the solid erection tucked into the band of his pants.

“I tried to hide it, tried to get it to go away,” he hushedly admits, teeth briefly nipping at your earlobe. “But I’ve been like this since you walked in here.” He pauses, savoring the way you whimper when he drives his tongue into the valley behind your ear. “And everything you’re doing is making me harder.”

“Jimin…” you moan, feeling his cock twitch under the layers of fabric beneath your fingers.

“You sound like an angel saying my name like that.” Both his hands are back on your breasts, fingers digging into your flesh in ways that have you arching your back.

“An angel? Me?” Your lips curl into a crooked smile. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

As you rub two fingers back and forth over the hard shape in his pants, he clamps down on your ear with his teeth and lets a muffled moan escape with his breath. “You’re right. You’re corrupted. An angel with horns. I swear I can see them.”

“Oh, so I’m a devil now? Make up your mind, will you?” You press your lips into a thin line, trying to conceal the satisfaction in your expression when he pulls back to glare at you. Good thing looks can’t kill. His stare is as icy as the room. Is he legitimately pouting at you for teasing him? He’s the king of teasing; he’s just mad you’re just dishing it back in heaps tonight.

“No, you’re an angel with horns,” he insists, glowering as you continue to stroke him through his pants using just your fingertips. He responds by pinching both of your nipples hard, causing you to cry out and grind yourself down on his thighs. You think about slapping his hands away, but the way his fingers now work soothing circles around the sensitive nubs has you leaning into his touch, aching for more. You roll your hips forward, grazing his dick with your pelvis. But it’s not enough and he can tell.

“You won’t get what you need that way.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and leans forward.

You instantly cling to his shoulders, feeling like he’s about to push you off the couch. His hands clutch your back as he safely dips you onto the floor. The way he towers over you as he drops to his knees has you regretting your decision to not wear panties underneath your leggings. The wetness that just gushed out of you is definitely soaking through. You lean back on your elbows, giggling like a schoolgirl as you inch yourself backwards, closer to the heater. Your eyes never leave his form as he grips his t-shirt by the collar and pops it over his head in one swift motion.

You blink, exhaling a held breath as you catch the glint of silver studs protruding from both sides of hardened brown nipples. The piercings come as a surprise, but you’re excited by the thought of clamping your mouth over them. Your eyes continue hungrily scanning the smooth expanse of his chest as he drapes the blanket across his back with a small shiver. A tattoo lines his ribs, scrawled in hasty bold letters: ‘NEVERMIND.’

He smirks, crawling over you and slotting a knee between your legs. Your fingertips gingerly brush across the inked skin in wonder, not able to take your eyes off of it. “Is there meaning behind that?”

You verbalize the thought without thinking, knowing he’s probably been asked that a million times. You know not every tattoo has to have some deep profound meaning, and you feel a little foolish for asking what might be a personal question. But every thump of the heavy beat in your chest tells you that the more you ask, the more you learn, and the harder you fall. You’ve been falling for months now, but at least it’s not such a lonely descent anymore.

He plants a gentle, chaste kiss on your lips before pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s a reminder to not care what other people think.”

“Does it work?” you ask while trailing fingers through his hair. “I feel like I could use that advice daily.”

He laughs, although you swear he looks sad as he thumbs your cheek. “Do you think I would have waited so long to have you like this if it did? I care too much about what others think. I always have. I was scared you’d see what a mess I am and you’d never look at me again. I couldn’t bear the thought.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I think… You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Definitely the hottest.” That pulls a shy grin from him. Your heart is soaring, telling you now is the time to be honest. “Jimin, I... feel happiest when I get to talk to you, even for just five minutes. I love hearing you talk about your granny because it gives me hope that families don’t have to be so messed up. I don’t have parents to call and talk to about my day. I used to be sad about that. Then you started doing laundry on my night. And you always make a point of asking about my day. It’s such a small thing, but it makes me so happy.

“Because you listen to my rambling and instead of calling me dumb or hurrying me to the point of my stories like everyone else in my life, you always look at me like…” you pause, trying to push down the tears you can feel building, but you know your eyes are going glassy because his brow furrows in sympathy.

A subtle frown takes hold of his mouth and his eyes soften, leaving an ache in your chest that makes it harder to go on.

“...like you actually like listening to me. I can’t describe how much that means to me because,” you continue, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time, “I’m used to being ignored or talked over. You’re the first person in a long time to make me feel like I’m not a burden. Or… a grade-A fuckup.” A choked laugh escapes with your held breath. “You think you’re a mess, Jimin, but look at me. I’m a mess. And yet, when I’m with you, I feel like it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how to describe it, but there’s something about you that makes me feel...”

Goddamnit. You’re blowing it. Jimin’s hovering above you, shirtless, after just making out with you and now you’re turning things into a sob-story. Tears well up in your eyes and your throat closes, forbidding you from saying anything else. Are you shaking because you’re cold, or because this is almost too much to handle? You should get up. You should go back to your apartment and cry it out and apologize in the morning.

You push him back and sit up, intending to do just that as the tears in your eyes use gravity to their advantage. You move to wipe your eyes, but Jimin’s fingers catch them right as they begin to streak down your cheek.

“Complete? Less alone?” he wonders, trying to get you to look at him. “I listen to you because you deserve to be heard. You’re funny and cute and smart. And you always have a good story about dogs. How can anyone not want to listen to you?”

He throws his arms around your quivering shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel, that life has been so unfair to you. But I… will always ask about your day. Not because you need to tell me, but because I want to know.”

He sniffles loudly and your hands fly to his back to comfort him. “Maybe it’s okay that you’re a mess because I am too. Let’s be a mess together, okay?”

He pulls back and now it’s your turn to wipe the tears from his eyes. You share a warm smile when your eyes catch the flash of red lace on his shoulder, making your heart sink into the pit of your stomach.

You gulp as his eyes follow your gaze to your favorite pair of red panties clinging to the fleece blanket. You immediately try to snatch them, but he beats you to them and closes his fist around the lacey material.

“Wow you already took these off for me?” he asks with a sly grin, knowing damn well that they must have stuck to the blanket he briefly tossed into the dryer with your clothes. You stumble over your own knees as you reach out to take them back.

He puckers his lips and feigns surprise, forcing air through his teeth as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, they’re a little wet!”

You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as you snatch them from his grip.

“Don’t be so embarrassing,” you mumble, stuffing them into the pocket of your hoodie.

“But you’re so cute when you get shy.” He goes in for a kiss, but misses your lips as you turn your head away. Not to be dismissed, he moves towards your ear, ghosting his fingertips around your hairline.

“Besides,” he continues, lowering the usual melodic tenor of his voice to a sultry bass, “I know that’s nothing compared to how wet you are for me now.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Ashamed by the truth in his statement, you bury your face into the warmth of his neck, letting a high-pitched whine flee from your throat, which quickly turns into a muffled screech against his skin.

He laughs at the ridiculous sound. You’re so weird. How can you be so weird and still turn him on? “See? You’re so cute. Hey, don’t hide from me!”

He takes the opportunity to slide his hands under your sweater again, fingers pinching the soft flesh of your waist. You bolt upright and grip his wrists like you’re about to snap them in half.

“Such a brat. I take back all the nice things I said,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. Even as the words are coming out, you’re bringing his hands to your chin and kissing the brim of his curled knuckles.

“You can’t,” he weakly drawls, losing himself in your touch.

He walks his fingers over your bottom lip and drums them against the inside of your mouth, watching your lip snap back to you with each slow, alternating swipe. You dart your tongue out to coat the pads of his fingers, wanting to tease the wet heat of your mouth closing down on him. But the way his eyelashes hopelessly batt as he tries to close his eyes and compose himself has you sucking his fingers into your mouth in an instant. Hollowing your cheeks, you trap him in the slick pressure chamber between your cheeks and your tongue. His jaw hangs open as he watches you slowly glide them in and out of your mouth.

An uneven breath hitches in his throat. “Don’t be a tease,” he pleads.

You pause, chest burning as his eyes bore into yours. His fingers coast out of your mouth with a gross popping sound and you kiss the tips of them before speaking, “Then don’t be a brat.”

Pulling the blanket over his shoulders, he wraps an arm around your neck, the weight of his body pressing you back. The distance between you quickly fills with muffled moans and the wet smack of your lips hungrily sliding against one another.

“I want to feel you,” he murmurs between open-mouth kisses, fingers diving under your sweatshirt and slowly working the material up your stomach.

“Me too,” you say, brain short-circuiting as his mouth licks a hot stripe down your neck. “I mean, I want you to feel me too. Not that I don’t want to feel you. I want to feel you. A lot.”

He smiles against your skin. The fabric of your sweatshirt bunches up just below your breasts and he pauses, waiting for a possible objection. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe, already wiggling your arms out of the sleeves. Between the chill of the air and Jimin’s sharp inhale, your nipples grow rigid. You’re pretty sure they’re hard enough to cut glass. His eyes roam your chest, drinking in the sight of your beauty just as you finish dragging the sweater over your head. He forces himself to tear his eyes from the sight of your pebbled nipples heaving up and down with each shallow breath your lungs take in.

Blinking a few times, he drags his eyes up and giggles when he sees the static in your hair.

You recoil and quickly criss-cross your arms to cover your chest, mistakenly believing he’s mocking your body. You think you’d be used to people laughing at you by now, but it still catches you off guard. It’s like a swift punch to the gut when you consider your foolish optimism. Armed with knowledge of the meaning behind his tattoo, you truly hoped Jimin could see past the years you spent ripping yourself apart in attempts to please others.

It’s been tough, but you’ve been able to pick up the pieces of your shattered self-esteem since moving away from the city. Leaving behind the hate and negativity binding you back to that world seemed impossible at the time, but you’ve made such progress, such strides away from all that. You’d like to think you possess a resilience, a hard shell that protects you from cruel people now, but it turns out you’re just as soft and vulnerable as ever.

It’s been years of tying ribbons decorated with hope and cheerfulness over the despondency branded into your core. And it feels like everything you’ve worked so hard to become unravels in an instant. You feel like melting into a puddle of tears. You feel like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” His smile falters and the laughter previously ringing throughout the room dies on the tip of his tongue. Anxiety drenches his face as he looks upon you, his stomach flip-flopping with the concerns building in his throat.

“Sorry,” you apologize, unable to hide your shame for not living up to whatever expectations he might have had. Still, you cling to the shred of dignity that remains lodged in the back of your mind. “I know I’m not… Like… The best looking, but it was kind of mean to laugh.”

“Oh…. Oh no… Y/N, I wasn’t laughing at… I would never… I was laughing because of this…” He drops his finger to your nose and you’re shocked by sharp a jolt of electricity. He makes a big gesture around his head to try and explain. “Your hair was fluffy. It was cute.”

He does his best to hide the tremble of his fingers as they brush the hair from your eyes and slowly trace jagged lines down your body. “I think you’re beautiful. And I will never. Ever. Be cruel to you. I will never hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask, feeling foolish for falling apart so easily under a false assumption.

“I promise,” he insists, innocently brushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into both a deeper kiss and embrace. The cold sting of the metal studs at his nipples gives you goosebumps, but the skin-to-skin contact has you moaning into him and craving more. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and he responds with an enthusiastic grind of his hips.

“Fuck,” you pant, already not-so-subtly yanking the fabric of your leggings down.

“Let me help you,” he offers.

Your hands, which have been trying to work the material down your hips without lifting your ass, abandon their efforts in favor of groping the small of his back and lightly massaging the back of his neck. He smiles sweetly, lifting himself up enough to trail a hand down between the two of you, letting it take a detour along the curve of your breasts as it goes. When it finally meets the fabric still gathered just above your sex, he pauses and then dives his fingers below the material instead.

You gasp as he rubs his fingers along your folds, seeking access to the prize hidden beneath. The slick, sticky coating now drenching every bit of your cunt allows him to glide through almost too easily. Suddenly he’s rubbing small, quick circles against your slippery clit and your can’t help but throw your head back against the floor. Lucky for you the carpet softens the blow.

“Does it feel good?” he asks with a pleased hum as his lips close around a pebbled nipple and swathes his tongue over it.

Your head lolls from side to side as you massage your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “So fucking good, Jimin.”

He moans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, deciding it’s time to rub your clit with his thumb instead so he can dip his fingers inside you. His knuckles rub against the damp fabric of your leggings as he teases your obscenely wet entrance with a finger. Quickly deciding two is far better than one, he plunges them inside your dripping cunt while keeping a steady pressure on your clit.

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he curls his fingers up to experience the contraction of your walls before he starts languidly pumping those delicate digits in and out of you. Digging into his back with your fingernails and knotting your other hand in his hair, you cry out a sound that makes his cock twitch against his belly.

He drags your nipple through his teeth as he pulls back, watching the jiggle that ripples through your breast before turning his head to rest on it. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and your walls spasm, weeping at the loss.

“So wet…” he whispers, sliding all of his fingers along your folds and gathering as much of you as he can.

You’re so fucking embarrassed. You’re not just wet, you’re salaciously wet, like a goddamn waterfall of pussy juice. Just as you’re about to apologize, he drags a wet, sticky trail up your belly with fingertips that have been drowned in your essence. You lose the will to speak as he looks up from his resting place on your tits.

“Is this all for me?” he inquires with a face of stone, eyelids half-closed as he spreads his fingers apart to let you see the glistening trails connecting them.

You manage to squeak out a pitiful, “I’m so sorry!”

Why you’re acting like you’ve physically harmed him in some way has him beyond puzzled. “Sorry? But, why?” He blinks, furrowing his brow. “I’ve never had someone this wet for me…. From now on…” he shyly trails off, bringing his fingers to his kiss-swollen lips and flicking his tongue across each one. His voice drops an octave. “I’ll be thinking about this every time I cum.”

With that he dips one into his mouth, eyes fixed on yours. You can’t look away, can’t even blink when he moans, eyelids fluttering as he deeply inhales your scent. “Delicious….”

You watch, speechless as he takes turns plugging his fingers into his mouth until he’s licked them all clean. “You taste sweeter than I imagined, Snow.”

When you don’t react, and stare at him like a terrified deer in headlights, he leans forward and hovers above your mouth. “You okay?”

Smelling yourself on his breath, your eyes close and you pull him into a deep kiss. He already tastes so fucking good. But he tastes heavenly when he’s wearing you on his tongue. “You’re... ” You try to shake the stupor out of your eyes, but you’re so smitten. “Amazing.”

He grins, pressing his lips to your cheek, then your neck, then your collarbone. He swipes his tongue across an area that makes you tense and he decides to revisit it, sucking a red mark of revenge into your flesh.

“I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jimin,” you whimper his name like he’ll take pity on you and climb back up your body to give you another taste of his mouth dripping with your juices.

Instead, your fingernails claw channels into his back as he forgoes the spot at your neck. He descends, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he can around both of your tits. “I want...” He laps the sticky trail he previously made with his fingers, following the path from your nipple down to your waist. “To make…” His tongue makes a lazy circle around your belly button before coasting down to the band of your leggings. “You cum for me.”

Your walls try to clamp down on something, anything, but there’s nothing inside your cunt to satisfy the craving driving you mad. You don’t have time to ruminate on this because he’s already yanking your leggings down your thighs, pulling them off and tossing them across the room. Your first instinct is to lock your thighs together to hide yourself from his gaze, but his palms catch your ankles as he moves to slot himself between your legs.

“Finally,” he breathes, running his hands up the inside of your calves, past your knees, slowing when he reaches your thighs. “Can I...?”

He seeks your approval, but you’re already throbbing with need, nodding and biting your lip to keep yourself from screaming yes. “Please, Jimin. Please.”

You tense as he presses his palms into both of your thighs, spreading you wide so he can see your glistening pussy. “Beautiful.”

Your cheeks are on fire, but you don’t have time to dwell on that either because Jimin is diving his tongue into your cunt like a man starved, lapping up your juices with a shameless slurping sound. And it feels like you’ve reached fucking nirvana.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, tone laced with whiny need. All you can do is twist your fingers around strands of his hair as your head slams back against the floor. If it weren’t for this carpet, you’d probably have a concussion by now.

The more you whimper, the harder he pushes his jaw into you, swiping his tongue into the entrance of your cunt and collecting as much of your sweetness as he can. He flicks his tongue in messy circles along your labia, taking his time as he works his way up to that sensitive bundle of nerves above.

You swear that he must have some sort of supernatural gift for eating pussy because you can already feel the orgasm building in your gut. You flex the muscles of your stomach, trying to will yourself to hold on just a little longer. Clenching your jaw, you tighten your grip in his hair and swallow hard. He groans against you as you tug at his golden locks, sending soft vibrations straight to your core.

The forgotten movie continues playing nearby, but all you can hear are the deep inhales he's taking through his nose as he keeps is mouth clamped down over your clit. The wet squelching of his tongue mixing saliva with your own bodily fluids should be grossing you out, but it fills you with a new wave of desire that pushes you closer to the edge. You've only ever gotten close this fast when you're alone. How much of his soul did he have to sell for this sinful ability?

You moan his name again as you slide one hand to your tit, groping and pinching your freezing nipple in multiple directions. He lifts his mouth to hungrily gasp for air while continuing to sweep his tongue over your vulva. When he catches the movement of your hand tweaking your nipple, he groans and passionately moves his lips over your clit like he's trying to make out with it. Your eyes roll back and you whine loudly as he pulls himself off you long enough to speak.

"You taste so good, " he whispers, sounding out of breath, like he might have been suffocating himself in your cunt for fun. "Does it feel good?"

He brushes his fingertips over your swollen clit, knowing damn well you're pulsing with need. You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at him. He cocks his head to the side, allowing his hair to fall across his face, waiting for you to answer.

You answer with a roll of your hips, trying to increase the pressure of his fingers on your bud by wrapping your legs around his back. He obliges your need for a moment, basking in the feel of your body desperately grinding onto his fingers, but he pulls them back and tuts at you with a sweet smile on his face. It's subtle but Jimin can feel it: the tremble of your thighs.

No matter how much you try to hide it, he knows. You're already so close that you're literally shaking. Will you beg me, Snow?

His eyes settle on yours as he slowly moves his fingertips back to your clit, only granting featherlight touches until you answer his question. When you push your hips back down for more, he moves his hand away again, grinning like a madman at the frustration staining your features.

Maybe you forgot what he asked. Raising his eyebrows, he trails his fingers up and down your thighs in teasing repetitions, always retracting them the moment he starts to give you what you want. "Tell me it feels good."

"You know it feels good," you whimper as his thumb swipes over your entrance.

"How good?" He stills, hovering his fingers over your clit. You can feel him teasing faint circles over it, denying you any sort of pressure until you answer.

"So fucking good."

He licks his lips, and spreads your folds open with his fingers. "Tell me how much you want me."

"I want you so fucking bad. I can't think about anything else. Please, baby."

A mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Baby…" he parrots back in a whiny voice, mocking you while kissing a line down your inner thigh. He swipes his tongue slowly up your entrance, quickly licking your clit like it's his new favorite flavor of lollipop.

"Jimin, please," you protest, throwing your head back so you don't have to look at him.

"What?" He slows his pace, kissing your swollen bud and rolling it against his tongue, pausing to whisper into you. "Tell me, baby."

With all mockery removed from his tone, the innocent word sounds absolutely sinful falling from his lips. If you're being honest, you never want him to stop saying it.

"You're evil," you breathe. "Please, don't stop."

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he massages his tongue against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Ah…! There! Right fucking there!" Your elbows ache as you try to stay propped up to keep your view of his beautiful face buried in you. "Jimin… Jimin, you're gonna make me cum."

Dark eyes peer up at you, sucking your labia through puckered lips before pausing to pant against you. "I know… Will you touch your pretty body for me, baby?"

Your thighs twitch at the request. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside your cunt while he tongues your clit. You lean back even further, mouth silently hanging open like you're about to start wailing. Instead you grab at your breast like it's your lifeline, catching your nipple between shaky fingers. Finally you give up on watching and throw your head back, resting it on the floor and running your fingers through your hair to keep from shoving his head down.

The quiver in your thighs grows stronger and you find yourself involuntarily bouncing to fight the sensitivity mixed in with pleasure. He clamps a hand on your hip to try to keep you from bucking him off the wonderful spot he's found. You clench around his fingers, aching for his return when he lifts his mouth from your clit.

"Look at me," he pleads, reaching his thumb up to tease the place he's left covered in spit.

You struggle to perch yourself on your hands, running on pure adrenaline from the most intense edging of your life. Fingernails dig into the carpet on either side of you, arms shaking like they're made of jello. "Jimin… I can't. Not when you're looking at me like that."

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

You beg, not as a "please," or "come on," but his name expressed as a hopeless sigh; it sounds criminal when you say it like that.

He cracks a smile. "Let me help you."

He slides the hand currently at your hip around your side and presses against the curve of your back. Slipping his fingers from your cunt, he shoves them into your mouth and forces you to bend forward and watch as he descends to replace them.

"See how good you taste?" He whispers it like it's some forbidden secret he's chosen to share. Not giving you a chance to respond, he works his tongue along every delicate fold he can, savoring the tremor of your form as he turns his attention to that wonderful spot he found earlier.

Release is closing in fast as he batters his tongue against your clit. You mindlessly suck your taste from his fingers, letting a culmination of saliva and your own juices seethe from the corners of your mouth to coat your chest in a messy drizzle.

"Fuuuck," you whimper, bobbing your head over them like they're the cock you're craving. The pleasure between your legs is all-consuming, causing your eyes to water as you clench them shut. You feel your orgasm cresting with each quick swipe of his tongue. You force your eyes back open, fearing he might stop and tease you again if you don't.

"Ahhhhm," you moan as his fingers tug your jaw down and you grind your clit hard against the velvety smooth comfort of his lips. "Gonna cum."

Keeping his dark, hungry eyes locked on yours, he releases a groan that vibrates into your core. Your hips stutter against him and suddenly tense. The only form of movement your body offers is the violent tremor deep in your core as you give in to the crashing waves of your orgasm.

Your sharp intake of breath and heavy, spit-soaked moan is almost enough to make him cum on the spot. The quick battering of his tongue never falters and he lets you ride out the high until your body can process movement again. Aftershocks wrack your core until you're bucking your hips in an attempt to free yourself from the overstimulation.

He considers standing his ground to try and give you another, but he climbs up your body instead. Your arms wobble as he presses himself against you, lips and chin glistening in the low light. Despite the sweat running down his forehead, he shivers when you run your tongue over his lips to commit to memory how good he tastes when he's wearing you.

You reach down, palming his length through his pants, feeling the leaking tip poking out the band at his waist. "I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you cum."

He takes in a ragged breath against your kiss, "I'll be right back."

Before you can process the words, he's gone, leaving you as a panting mess on the floor. The heater sends a flow of hot air towards you but you can still feel the cold nipping at your sweaty skin.

Jimin practically sprints back to you, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth. When he sees you lying naked on his floor, he pauses to take in the sight. This better not be a really vivid dream.

You look up and he's looking back at you, smiling in a way that melts the chill off every part of your body. You grin like a smitten fool, unable to focus on anything but his kind eyes, even as he's tugging his sweatpants off and rolling the condom down his shaft.

By the time you realize you have a chance to look at his dick and commit the sight to memory, he's already slotted himself between your legs. He pulls the forgotten blanket over his back and lets the weight of his chest come down on yours.

He brushes the hair from your forehead as you wrap your arms around his form in an intimate embrace. He studies your face a moment, wondering if it's too soon to tell you how much he cares about you. It's the little things over the months he's fallen for, small pieces of you that have burrowed into his heart to build a larger, stronger form of affection. This feeling is more than just a shallow attraction, but will bringing that up make you run away?

It's worth the risk. If you don't feel the same, then he can't bear to have you like this even if his body is screaming for it. It can't be meaningless. Not with you.

He offers a gentle kiss, fingers trembling as they cup your chin. He lets the whisper rest against the surface of your lips. "I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and you hug your arms tighter around him. Love is a strong word. Especially for you. Growing up, you experienced what two people called love for the sake of outward appearances, but it was really only a mask they wore to conceal their hatred of each other. How can you say you love him when you don't even know what real love is like?

He waits for the response buried in your throat, trepidation taking hold of every thought outlining the possibility of reciprocation and twisting it into a mental lashing. Has his sensitivity on this matter really messed it all up? His eyes flicker between yours, pursing his lips and holding back a sigh when the answer doesn't come. He can’t tell what you’re thinking but heaven knows he’s trying to nurture the power of telepathy right now.

You know he wants the truth, whatever it may be. You swallow, chest tight as you try to form the words. You think of the kindness shown by others in your life, all the good experiences mixed in with all the shit life has thrown in your face. Jimin falls into the extremely good category, like the "I didn't know I could feel this good" category. You can't imagine a day going by that you don't talk to him. You don't want to.

"I don't have a good example of love-love to go by," you begin, watching him try to hide the disappointment in his face. "But I'd like to think this is what it's supposed to be."

Tears sting your eyes. Vulnerability is hard, but you're willing to take a chance on him and he realizes how big that is for you. Salty sweet tears of relief run down his cheeks as he kisses away your shared insecurities.

He could spend forever tangled in your embrace, innocently kissing away your worries and fears. Your fingers drag their way through his hair and you rut your hips into him, grinding your pelvises together. Being this intimate is new and exciting, but it's leaving you too vulnerable and is becoming an increasingly prominent source of anxiety.

Gripping the edges of the blanket at his back, you pull it across his shoulder blades as though it will cover the goosebumps speckling your chest. "Mmm. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

He steadies himself on his elbows, fingers dancing with strands of your hair against the carpet. He rolls his hips against you a few times with a smile, letting his dick slide against your soaked, sensitive clit before lifting back and lining himself up properly.

“Tell me you want me,” he whimpers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with shallow taps. You try to lure him in by contracting the muscles in your pussy touching the head, hoping the feeling is enough rather than words. You’re having a hard time with those right now.

“Aaah…” he moans, dipping his head to your neck a moment. “You really are impatient.”

Slowly, he glides himself in about an inch, feeling you tense at the intrusion. The stretch makes you breathe a moan into his ear, causing him to snap his head back up to make eye contact with you. His chest is heaving as he waits, trying to give you time to adjust without blowing his load immediately. The way you’re trying to torture him by squeezing your walls around him is not making things easy.

“More, please,” you sigh, gripping the thick meat of his ass and pulling him towards you. “I want you.”

Finally, he gives in to the pleasure. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he bottoms out in one smooth motion. You squeak a brief sound of satisfaction, enjoying the dark hunger blazing in his eyes when they focus back on your face. He tries to reel the self-control back in, dragging his cock out at a leisurely pace before slowly working it back in. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, for this to be an unpleasant experience. But god. You feel so good. Too good.

“I always want you,” you breathe, hooking your legs around his waist and rolling your hips up to meet his as they come back down.

It’s difficult to think when you’re such a gorgeous mess beneath him. With your eyebrows knitting together, jaw hanging open, an apologetic look in your eyes as your hand shoots up to grip the back of his neck for better leverage to thrust yourself back up at him: you’re the epitome of perfection. His pace quickens with a spike of adrenaline surging through his veins. Soon his mouth hangs open, mirroring yours as he’s overwhelmed with the sensation of your tight, wet hole squeezing his cock like it’s the only place it’s ever needed to belong.

“J-Jimin,” you whine, looking down to catch the way your own tits press together, bouncing in unison with your writhing bodies. You try to see past your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of his length disappearing inside of you, but the shadows cast by the blanket make it hard to see much of anything. So you drag your eyes back up to meet his, absolutely destroyed by the wonder painted all over his features. He’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect human he’s ever seen.

Because you are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, bringing his open mouth down over yours.

With your tongues duking it out with each other, he pistons his cock into you with a vigor unlike anything you’ve experienced in your life. The squelching of your pussy while being mercilessly pounded is background noise to the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You groan a garbled sound into his mouth, trying to remember how to breathe and process pleasure at the same time.

He moves to your neck, latching onto a sensitive spot immediately. This combined with the weight of him pressing down on your chest has you heaving, exposing more of your neck for him to explore. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other and you roam your fingers through his damp hair, savoring the feel of his tongue gliding up and down your neck until he settles on a place that makes you curl your fingers around those strawberry blonde locks.

You never thought you’d feel safe like this, and yet here you are. You’re about to lose yourself in the emotional implications of your progress when he slips right out and thrusts up against your clit, immediately apologizing. You cry out at the loss, wishing he could fill you up all day every day for the rest of your life. Because without him you feel so empty.

He chuckles nervously. “Slippery… Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smile, placing a small kiss on his lips. “I’m fine. But I think you’re working too hard. Why don’t you relax?”

You place a hand on his chest, facilitating the switch in your positions. Jimin rolls flat on his back with a grin, blanket trapped beneath him. There’s nothing to hide behind now. You finally take in the sight of his cock standing at attention, its beautiful girthy form being suffocated within the cream-covered condom. It’s a perfect size. Not too big. Not too small. Most of all it’s wide enough to fill you up, and so fucking delicious-looking. You could pop the condom off and take him into your mouth right now. He must see the thought cross your mind as you lick your lips because he grabs your wrists and guides you up to meet his face.

“Come back to me. Your Prince Charming would like to kiss you,” he coaxes in a cloyingly sweet tone. “There will be time to kiss me elsewhere later.”

“Oh, you’re my Prince Charming?” You can’t help but smile. He makes your heart swell with joy, even when he’s being a brat. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since the day I decided you were Snow White,” he says breathlessly.

“I told you that animals don’t actually like me as much as you think they do. Birds poop on me all the time.”

“And I told you Granny says that’s good luck.” He presses his lips to your cheek and grabs your waist. “I just wanted to sweep you off your feet,” he sheepishly admits, eyes darting away for a moment.

You straddle his waist, aligning yourself with his cock. “And tell me, what do you want now?”

“I want…” His eyes glaze over as he feels you sink down, grunting a weak “please” when you’re flush with his pelvis, unmoving. His hands link themselves with yours as you lean over him. Instead of looking anywhere else or trying to get you to move your hips, he stills and looks deep into your eyes. “I want to be your happily ever after, my lovely princess.”

His words catch you off guard and tears begin falling with your stunned blinks. He’s always looked at you like a princess, hasn’t he? It doesn’t matter how screwed up you may feel, or even how screwed up you actually are. He loves you. He cares for you. And he wants you to see what he sees so badly that he will point the mirror on the wall towards you every day until you see that you truly are the fairest of them all.

“Please don’t cry,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. There are already tears forming in his eyes too. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” you smile, lowering yourself to press your chests together. His arms wrap around you, offering comforting strokes with his fingertips against your back. His cock is still buried in your pussy and it’s distracting. He would love nothing more than to thrust up into you and spill himself in your guts.

“Tell me you love me,” you beg in a hushed whisper, kissing him like he’s the only form of oxygen you’re going to get for the rest of the night.

“I love you,” he whispers back between greedy, sloppy kisses.

You roll your hips, granting the movement he’s been craving as you slowly bounce on his cock. When he groans you clench around him and pick up your pace, hoping that you’re not as sloppy as you feel. Between the tears and the emotions swirling in your chest, your hips are a stuttering mess. If you are being a terrible top, he doesn’t say anything. He rocks himself with your slow, fucked out pace, hitting a heavenly spot inside you with each pivot your hips make to meet his again.

“I love you,” he repeats into the air as you lean back and steady yourself by placing your palms on his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut as you begin a new, rapid tempo that threatens to make him cum in seconds. He slurs out a whine of incoherent sounds, indicating you’re bringing him closer to the edge of release.

The shy, proud grin spreads across your face like wildfire as you watch him physically struggle to compose himself. “Got a big load for me, Charming? Or is it reasonably-sized?”

His face is flush and those big black pupils are dilated so wide you can’t tell them apart from the irises anymore. He wants to tell you to slow down so he can drag this out some more, but his climax is racing the words trapped in his throat. He grabs your hands and pulls you down close to him so he can kiss you again and again.

“Y/N… Ah…. I can’t....” He’s sucking air through clenched teeth between kisses, trying his best to push back the tightness in his balls.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Let go. Cum for me.”

With that he quickly wraps his arms around your waist, digging his fingernails into your sides as he takes control from beneath you, fucking you hard and fast as he chases his release. Your body shakes as he relentlessly thrusts those sinful hips upwards in quick, powerful strokes, holding you in a tight embrace like you might float away if he loosens his grip. You moan into each other’s mouths, the muffled sounds mingling as you crash your tongues against one another.

“I love you,” he whispers again, desperately this time.

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, doing your best to keep up with the insane tempo he’s set.

“Oh,” he quickly gasps, unable to fight the curse on the tip of his tongue. “Baby… Fuck... I’m cumming.”

The rhythm of his thrusts somehow increases in speed and you’re relieved to hear him gasp out the affirmation of his release. A small part of you is worried you won’t be able to take much more, even though you really want to; it’s been some time since anything has been between your legs that didn’t run on batteries. This is so much better.

Needy moans spill into your mouth with your name on repeat between breaths. He pumps himself into you with one last burst of power. Once. Twice. Three times. His hips shake beneath yours and fall limp against the floor as he chews on your bottom lip. Jimin cumming is hottest fucking thing you’ve ever experienced in your life and tonight you’ve heard it twice.

He allows your lip to snap back to you and plants a kiss on your forehead before rolling you over onto your back and slipping himself from inside of you. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You nod with a tired smile. “If you still want me.”

“I always want you,” he whispers with a shy kiss to your cheek. “The bed’s a bit more comfortable though.”

“I really didn’t mean to say it,” Jeongguk whines, face buried in his hands as he sits on Jimin’s couch.

Jimin puffs his cheeks, sparing a glance at the clock on his phone. He made plans to watch a movie with you once you got home from work. And by watch a movie, he means to disregard the movie as background noise and fuck you senseless. What he didn’t plan on was his friend stopping by for an impromptu therapy session; it happens often enough that he usually is prepared for such an event. But there’s only been one thing on his mind for the past week, and it’s been bent over every surface in this apartment every day the moment you get home. He’s eager to keep that streak going.

You’ll be home soon and Jeongguk doesn’t show any signs of leaving. Jimin decides to text you, letting you know the door is still unlocked, but he has company so don’t come running in while tearing your shirt off unless you want to entertain them both. He smiles when he hits send, eager for a response. It’s at this moment Jeongguk looks up at his friend, realizing he’s enamored with his phone.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Jeongguk looks crushed, sinking back into the cushion and rubbing his thumbs over the yellow plush dog Yoongi had constructed for Jimin at work. Its silky fur is comforting to Jeongguk, but not enough to soothe the ache in his heart. He fucked things up with this new teacher and he really doesn’t know how to smooth things over. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says, quickly pocketing his phone and making sure Jeongguk knows he has his full attention. He places a hand on his knee and squeezes. “It’s okay. Just apologize to her.”

"How can I do that when every time I talk to her I can't even think straight? I mess up everything that I do when she's around," he groans, clearly resigned to his own hopelessness.

"How can you possibly mess up two words?" Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. He reaches for Jeongguk's jaw and begins practicing ventriloquy as he opens and closes it in time with his advice. "I'm. Sorry."

Jeongguk playfully slaps his hand away, "It's not that easy and you know it." He sighs heavily. “Besides. You know me. I already messed up an apology. ”

The smile falls from Jimin’s face. “What happened now? Don’t tell me it’s worse than the balls conversation.”

Jeongguk tents his fingers on either side of his temples and inhales deeply. On exhale he screeches, memory replaying his most recent mistake one more time.

“...That bad, huh?” He frowns, crossing the room to get him a beverage.

Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair a few times before he snatches the banana milk from Jimin. He’s just gotta focus on something else. Anything else. He starts chugging the bottle, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, slow down. I’m gonna be sick if you throw that stuff up.”

Jimin reaches for the small, plastic jug but it’s already empty by the time Jeongguk allows him to take it.

Jeongguk whimpers, “Not even banana milk can fix this.”

“Jeongguk. Tell me what happened.” It’s rare that Jimin ever gets stern with any of his friends, but sometimes they have a habit of getting in their own heads. He can pull them out by telling them what they need to hear, even if it isn’t always nice. He’s got a nagging feeling in his gut that this might be one of those times.

His friend leans back into the couch with palms pressed against his forehead. “I whipped a tennis ball across the court, but it fucking went out the door to the hall and hit her while she was walking by.”

“It was an accident!” Jimin insists.

“I know! But she! Doesn’t!” He pounds his hands into his forehead like it can knock the memory from his brain.

“Why not?” Jimin asks, suddenly suspicious. “What did you do when you realized you’d thrown something at someone? You apologized, right? Right?”

Jeongguk grits his teeth a subdued screech in his throat. “I ran over when I heard her scream and I was panicking so I just! I said ‘I’m so fucking sorry!’”

“That’s good--”

“And ‘Are you okay?!’”

“Sounds like you did fine---”

“But my brain couldn’t decide which one to say first so it merged them together! And I screamed at her!”

“Oh no.”

“Are you fucking sorry?! I screamed it Jimin. Are you fucking sorry! All of my students standing there watching me have a mental breakdown when she’s the one hurt.”

He’s practically in tears, damn near hysterical. Jimin offers a sympathetic grimace before going in for a big, comforting hug.

“Jeonggukie, it’s okay.”

“Not it’s not! I can never face her again. I can never face my students again. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

Jimin squeezes him tighter. “You’ll get through this though. You know how I know?”

“How?” The words are muffled when spoken into the crook of his neck.

Jeongguk has buried himself dangerously close to the spots you’ve been claiming for yourself. He hopes his friend doesn’t notice the red bruises you’ve left behind.

“Because. I can think of a million other things that you’ve done that are way more embarrassing than this. And you’ve lived through them all. If anything your students will see you as someone they can relate to.”

“And Frizzle?”

“You have to do something genuinely nice for her and express your sincerest apologies. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. Admit you screwed up and you want to make things better. Explain how your life is a chain of embarrassing experiences. Tell her some stories of your other fails so she doesn’t think you’re being cruel. If you can’t think of any, I can make you a list. I really do remember things you’ve done that are worse than this, you know. ”

“No! No. I guarantee I’ve blocked them out for a reason.” The black-haired man sighs. He seems to at least be comforted by the thought that the situation isn’t totally unsalvageable. He stands with a lopsided smile. “Thanks, Jiminie. I love you.”

Jimin’s mouth curls into a smile as he goes in for one more hug. “You never forget to pay me, Jeonggukie.”

Jeongguk steps across the threshold and is greeted by the very woman he’s been complaining to Jimin about for the better part of an hour. Every muscle in his body tenses and freezes in place. She’s just come out of the apartment next door. Jimin cocks his head at his friend, curiously watching the blatant change in body language.

“What is she doing here?” Jeongguk hisses at Jimin like the woman isn’t standing close enough to hear.

“Of course you’d be here. Don’t worry, Mr. Jeon, I’m on my way out, unless you’ve got something else to pile on to my hazing?”

Jeongguk clamps his mouth shut and tries to move out of her way, but she moves in the same direction. Both of them immediately try to go around, mirroring each other’s actions. This must be her. Jimin rubs his temple as he watches the awkward dance Jeongguk and “Frizzle” do as she tries to move past him. For a tall, muscular guy, Jeongguk seems to shrivel in stature the longer he stands there looking at her, stuttering out half of an apology before finally gripping her shoulders like he’s going to pick her up.

“Please let me go,” he murmurs, swallowing hard, despite the fact that he’s the one with his hands on her.

Jimin runs his fingers down his cheeks like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Jeongguk’s aloof nature seems to have been amplified tenfold by the presence of this woman, which is an impressive feat. He’s got it so bad for this girl he really can’t think straight.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath and books it down the hallway, forgetting about his friend entirely. He gets to the stairwell and hunches over the bannister to screech like a pterodactyl, hoping to release some of the anguish tearing at his chest. He sighs, composing himself as he ascends the steps, patting his pockets for the comfort of escape. His heart drops. That familiar jingle of keychains and metal is missing. “My keeeeeeys!”

It’s then he realizes he’s going to have to walk back past you in shame to collect the missing item from Jimin’s apartment. Jimin wishes he could undo all of the secondhand embarrassment he just experienced. Being that this will be burned into his memory for some time, he slinks into your apartment for a healthy dose of distraction.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla hang in the air. You've been baking to keep yourself busy. You thought about asking your guild if anyone wanted to play online for a bit, but you really weren't in the mood for video games. You knew what to expect and yet you still find yourself disappointed by the lack of Holiday cards and letters.

Even if they don't give a shit about you, you still find your heart breaking, wishing you could know if your parents are doing okay. Maybe they're finally getting better. Maybe they're finally getting that divorce they desperately need. You whisk the batter, losing yourself in a sea of possibilities, regardless of whether it matters in the first place.

Then again, maybe they're doing better now that they don't have you around to use as a point of contention. They could be happy now that the supposed source of their misery is absent from their life. Your jaw tightens along with your grip on the mixing bowl cradled in your arms.

They probably don't think about you at all. How many times had you walked back from school alone in the dark because they forgot to pick you up? How many times had they straight up forgot you existed? They don't care. They don't even think about you. In fact, they're probably so drunk mom is passed out on the couch and dad is in a similar position in his office with a bottle of scotch and a nub of a burnt out cigarette hanging from his mouth.

You're mixing quickly, scraping loudly against the ceramic bowl in an attempt to drown out the anger in your head. It might not be enough to cover your incessant thoughts but it sure as hell camouflages Jimin's approach.

You bite your lip, white hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes. It's stupid. Why do you care so much when they obviously don't? You feel manic having the day off of work. There's too much time to think now that you don't have your customers to dote on and care for. You don't realize how slippery your fingers are now that they’re coated in a layer of sweat. The bowl slips from your hands and shatters against the floor, coating your floor and feet in a pasty splatter of dough.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, scooping his arms around your waist and dragging you away from the mess.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel his embrace pulling your backwards, voice vibrating in your ear. You stumble backwards, losing traction over the spilled batter. He’s careful to get you away from the shards of glass littering the kitchen tile as you fall.

“I thought you had work to do,” you say, embarrassed by your lack of finesse.

“I finished up early. I… knocked but you didn’t answer,” he replies, taking a moment to inspect your face.

The mixture intended for cookies haphazardly sprinkles your cheeks and your eyes are still glossy from the tears gathered in them moments ago.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern dripping from the two simple words.

You hate making him worry so you force a counterfeit smile to split your lips. “Nothing!”

“I can tell you’re lying,” he insists, wiping your face with his fingers. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

You hang your head low and press into his shoulder. “I was just thinking about my family. Please. It’s not important.” Another phony smile adorns your features as you look up at him. “But I’d like it very much if you could take my mind off it.”

He offers a warm smile and decides not to press further. He knows enough of your past to know you’d rather not speak on it unless you’re the one offering information. Despite the curiosity nagging at the corners of his mind, he plants a kiss on your lips instead. “Any requests?”

“Take me away from my own brain.”

He giggles, ready to make you forget every word you’ve ever learned that’s not his name, but he pauses, briefly recalling the reason he stopped by in the first place. “Oh wait. I wanted to ask you about that.”

You half-laugh, half-scoff. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted there’s no escape.”

Jimin shakes his head at you. “No, I mean would you like to get away from here for the night? My friends and I go to Taehyung’s parents’ cabin every year on New Years Eve. It’s like a little tradition.”

You blink at him. “Oh you mean Mr. Kim--er,” you correct yourself when he cringes. “Tannie’s dad? Wouldn’t it be weird if I showed up? I don’t want to intrude… And I would feel so awkward not knowing any of your friends.”

“They’re all really laid back. They’re like an extended family. Let me tell you about them,” he suggests, twining his fingers in yours and waving your hands around. “The drive to the cabin takes a couple hours. That’s plenty of time to give you a history lesson.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know,” he begins, swiping his batter-coated finger with his tongue. “Granny says it’s good luck when you kiss someone you love on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the cheesy grin you feel coming on. “Is that so?”

He nods enthusiastically, sparing a glance at the shards of glass and spilled batter scattered across your kitchen floor. “Besides, what better way to keep your mind off of... everything?”

The man can be subtle when he wants to be, but you still follow his line of sight to the mess creeping down the slight slope in the tile.

“I have to sweep this up,” you mumble, ignoring giving him a finite answer as you cross the room to gather cleaning supplies.

There’s a protest caught in his throat that dies the moment you bend over to search for the dustpan in the closet. He saunters over, licking his lips and letting his fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips. Your eyes go wide as his length presses against your ass, already half hard. He offers a playful thrust as a joke, but if you drop your pants then the joke part of that thrust is totally cancelled. You sigh loudly and arch your back, slowly rising to looking over your shoulder at him. He swears time stops for a moment as half-lidded eyes chant his name without you saying a word.

“I really have to clean this up. It’s wet. The-The spot on the floor is wet.” You stumble over raspy and frantic words, all the moisture missing from your mouth. He tests your resolve by sneaking a finger below the band of your jeans, skirting his digits just outside of your underwear before pressing the silky fabric into your clit. With just a few slow circles, he has you moaning and weakly leaning back against him for support.

“You’re right. It’s a little wet. I should help you clean this up, don’t you think?” His breath is hot against your neck as he dips his hand lower, sneaking along your pantyline before pushing the barrier aside to dive in your cunt without warning.

You’re practically melting as he pumps his fingers into you, tongue dragging over your neck in a teasing swipe. It takes all of your willpower, but you grip his forearm with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m Charming,” he insists with a grin, complying with your unspoken request to abandon his endeavors.

“I need to clean this before it gets in every last crack.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something crass but gets distracted by your smiley kiss.

“We’ll get to that later. Go. Sit over there,” you instruct, pointing to the empty chairs on the other side of the bar-style counter.

He sulks over to the counter and sits with a huff, planting his elbows on the edge and resting his cheeks on the flat surface of his palms. It’s hard to ignore his bottom lip protruding in a pout as you get to work cleaning the mess you’ve stupidly made. Hard, but not impossible.

When it’s clear you’re ignoring him, he sits up straight and folds his arms over his chest, a puff of air passing his lips as he takes in his surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes zone in on the familiar form of a package containing delicious pastries only made in one shop.

“Mistledough? You went to Mistledough?” he asks excitedly. You must have met Jin, if that’s the case.

You laugh, “Oh yeah. I stopped in to get some baked treats for the pups a couple weeks ago and this smooth-talking guy comes out from the back with a big smile. His shoulders are so big and his waist is so tiny that he looks like a dorito. Right? Anyway he’s doing this whole bit about how good this stuff is and how happy he gets when pretty girls come into his shop to order it. He definitely knows how to advertise because I bought a whole package of them without even trying it first. It’s… so good though. Have you ever had it? What I have now might be a little stale, but I’m sure it’s still fine to eat. Do you want some?”

You poke your head above the counter to see Jimin’s arms crossed over his chest. He isn’t looking at you but he definitely looks annoyed. Is he seriously still pouting because he has to wait ten whole minutes to put his fingers back in you?

“No,” he pouts quietly, entire demeanor flip-flopped in an instant. “I don’t want any. I know what it tastes like.

You frown, thinking maybe it’s something you said. “Do you not like that place?”

Jimin puffs his cheeks out and removes the thick black frames from his face to clean them with his shirt. “No, that place is fine.”

Anxiety races in your chest, heart snapping in two at the sound of his cold tone. “I’m sorry,” you say, gripping the dustpan tightly like he’s going to break things off. “Is it… Did I do something wrong?”

He catches your eyes, immediately filling his gut with guilt. “Ah, no, no. I’m sorry.” He licks his lips and rolls his eyes away, not wanting to look at you when he admits this. “It’s just… That handsome, wide-shouldered guy... That’s Seokjin. He’s my friend, but--Ah the way you talked about him just now, I got jealous. I’m sorry.”

Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. You cock your head to one side and stand to lean over the counter. No one’s ever been jealous of you before, or in regards to you; it’s kind of baffling that you don’t have the brain capacity to be flattered. “Jealous? Why?”

He spares a look at you and darts his eyes away. “Because.” He sighs loudly and slinks back in his chair. “He’s tall and those big shoulders let everyone know how strong he is. People can look at him and say wow, that guy is so handsome. He just… exudes manliness. Do you know what people say about me?”

The slow blink and the way he swallows tells you that he’s having trouble expressing the distasteful things he must have heard over the years.

“Jimin.” Your fingers grip his chin. “Nevermind what people say. They don’t matter. Do they?”

You tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you, gaze remaining steady on his eyes until he meets it.

“No…”

“You matter. But you’re hard on yourself. Do I matter?”

“Yes…” he breathes, offended that you’d even ask such a question.

“Well then you should listen to me. I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re sweet and cute. I think you’re sexy and fun. I think I love the beauty of your soul as much as I love your handsome face. I think your height is not a measure of your worth and I’m not sure why it’s important to you, but I will hug you all day every day to remind you that you’re the perfect height to always bury your face in my tits.”

He laughs, visibly relaxing despite the blush creeping in his cheeks. “You’re good to me.”

“I think,” you continue, suddenly feeling shy yourself. “You don’t have anything to be jealous about. This world only has one Jimin. One who is perfect as himself. And I care about him so much that I want to go with him to a cabin where I won’t know anyone because when he’s around, my heart hurts less and the world feels less cold and when I’m with him, despite my paranoia and concerns about being murdered... he makes me feel safe. I love him.”

He smiles sweetly, leaning in to plant a kiss on your lips. “Who’s that Jimin? He sounds amazing. But I’ll have to teach him a lesson for stealing your affection.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, nuzzling your nose close to his. “You dork.”

“You’re coming with me then?”

“It’s a date, my prince,” you reply with a grin.

“Thank goodness. I already cancelled my ride.”

The snow whips against your windshield wipers. Heat blares through the vents, the radio playing softly in the background. Jimin looks over at you, placing his hand on your thigh. You smile, giving it a firm squeeze and pressing it to your lips while your eyes squint through the blinding white obscuring the road.

“Do you see a sign to get back on the highway?” you ask, trying to bite back the anxiety brewing in your belly.

The “EXIT ONLY” sign responsible for your detour had been obscured by the heavy snowfall. Being that the inclement weather has put you in an unfamiliar area, you’re hopeful that the poorly plowed backroads are a short-lived side trip.

“Don’t worry. There has to be a way to get back on,” he assures you, giving your fingers a squeeze as he squints out the passenger side window. “Oh! That sign says there’s a gas station ahead. Maybe we could ask in there?”

You eye the instrument panel of your dashboard. The needle indicating the fuel level of your tank hovers two lines above “E.” You promptly go back to watching the road, wind whipping snow off nearby trees. You’re taking it slow as you come around a curve, but your tires spin when they hit a patch of ice.

“Oh shit!” Releasing his fingers, you throw your arm up to shield Jimin’s chest as do your best to turn your steering wheel into the skid as the vehicle veers off the side of the road.

The car makes a skewed slide to the shoulder of the road and continues to glide onto the snow-covered grass, coming to a complete stop before hitting any of the nearby trees. You exhale a ragged breath and look over at Jimin.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, carding his fingers through his hair. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Your response is sturdy, composed, but its foundation is a lie that could come crumbling down at any moment. Shaky fingers reach over to click the hazard button in the unlikely event that anyone else drives by. You haven’t seen another car in over twenty minutes, but it’s still best to err on the side of caution.

“Just icy. Gas station?” you ask, trying to get your bearings. You don’t think the car did a 180 but you’re a little shaken up and could use a break.

Jimin points in the direction the sign indicated. “Not too far, I think. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod silently, checking your surroundings as you attempt to back up. The wheels beneath the car spin in endless cycles, bringing you nowhere. You swallow hard, turning the wheel in the opposite direction and trying again as you apply more force to the gas pedal. When the car doesn’t budge, you fear the worst and place it in park. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you slip on a pair of thin gloves and open the door to inspect the terrain.

With your first step outside your stomach drops with your legs on the slippery surface below your boots. You clutch the door but it’s too late; your legs split and you fall to the ground with a painful smack. You can’t help the pained whimper that spills out of your mouth in short, embarrassing bursts. You’ll be fine. You just need a minute.

“Snow! Are you okay?” Hearing your cries, Jimin quickly dons his mittens and gets out of the car.

As soon as he rounds the front of the car, passing the light on the driver’s side, his boots lose all traction. He stumbles forward a bit, trying to regain his footing before his legs finally slip from beneath him. The impact his ass makes on the ground beside you makes you wince. He grimaces, sucking air through his teeth as he leans back. Even still, he reaches out and touches your cheek with a puffy red mitten, opening his mouth to ask if you’re okay but not able to manage anything other than a broken groan.

You look up at him as he leans over you, feeling the fingers trapped beneath the fuzzy mitten at your cheek. Suddenly you start to giggle. Despite not knowing the source, seeing your amusement causes the groan in his throat to transform into a breathless laugh.

“We really are messes, huh?” you say, pulling down on the red scarf adorning his shoulders to bring him down to meet your lips.

His mouth is hot, leaving behind breathy vapors in the air as he sucks your bottom lip, turning the innocent nature of the kiss into something more passionate. Before your brain can register the action, his tongue already propping your mouth open. If the wind wasn’t whipping snow on your exposed cheeks, he might have been able to keep you warm and make you forget your surroundings completely.

Reluctantly you push him back. “Jimin we have to get up. What if another car comes and rear ends us? We would die.”

He sighs, wincing as he struggles to stand on the slippery surface. “Okay, but be careful getting up.”

He circles the car, inspecting for any signs of damage as you crawl on hands and knees towards the front of the car. Placing your cheek on the ground you look beneath to see if anything might be caught underneath. When you both come up empty, you carefully get back in the car.

Jimin looks over at you suddenly, an expression of realization coating his features. “Did you turn traction control off?”

You slowly close your eyes and run cold, wet gloved fingers down your face. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought of that.”

Jimin shrugs and kisses your cheek with a proud smile. “I just passed my driver’s test so it’s all fresh in my mind.”

Before long, you’re back on the road and rolling up to a pump at the gas station. Jimin disappears inside while you work on filling the tank. It’s filling painfully slowly so you start playing with the layer of snow on the top lip of the pump. You begin to gather snow, picking some from the ground and rolling it around to form a tiny, perfect snowball.

The bell on the door jingles as Jimin exits, a look of concentration on his face as he looks up and down the road beside the lot. An abrupt wave of cold shocks his system as a snowball disintegrates against his chin. He looks around for the culprit, but the only person in the parking lot is you. He blinks a few times, realizing you’re cackling like a witch as you screw the cap back on your tank.

Instead of forming his own snowball to throw back, his bottom lip protrudes in a pout and he puffs up like a bird who’s had their feathers ruffled one too many times. He must still be sore from falling. You start to feel guilty and start to apologize as he draws near, pulling him into an embrace. He leans into you, walking you back until you’re pressed against the car. You blush, feeling the weight of his body trapping you as he pushes his mouth onto yours. He removes a glove to fist your hair between his fingers and gives a sharp tug. Once again, he takes the warmth you offer and turns the heat up. Is this what he’s like when he’s annoyed and horny? You’ll remember to be bratty if this is what it earns you.

You pull back a moment, searching the darkness in his eyes for the need buried in them. Pulling his scarf aside, you latch onto his neck with the heat of your mouth, making sure to suck and tease the spot you know drives him crazy. You feel him lean into you with a moan as he swipes his hand erratically over your car. Feeling pleased with yourself, you grind your hips up into him.

You don’t see the snow he’s gathered into a pile on the top of your car, but you sure as hell feel it when swipes it all over the edge with one hand and holds the collar of your coat open with the other. The snow transforms into water almost immediately, leaving icy trails down your back and soaking into your clothes.

You screech against him just as he takes off running across the parking lot, giggling like a madman. He played you. You wiggle what snow you can out of your coat and give chase, gathering snow in your hands as you go. He holds his hands up as if to surrender and repeating a slew of “sorry”s, but something about the way he’s laughing the whole time makes it feel a bit disingenuous. Soft snowballs smash against his legs. You wish you had better aim.

As you move to gather more snow, he’s already firing off the ammunition he’s secretly gathered, pelting your coat with white. Running up to him through the barrage, you find he’s empty and he puts his hands out again. Seeing the snowbank behind him, you push him back into it, allowing a cushion of cold to break his fall. The melody of his laughter rings through your ears as your climb on top of him and sprinkle what’s left of your fistful of powdery snow all over his face.

You’re both laughing so hard you’re crying. After taking a moment to calm his laughter, he sits up on his elbows and removes a loop from the scarf at his neck to drape it around yours.

“Come on. Let’s get to the cabin so we can warm up.”

You wet your lips, the cold immediately freezing your spit. “What you’re not warm?”

“You pushed me into the snow. I’m cold,” he whines.

“You covered me in white,” you say, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow with a knowing smile. “I thought you liked that. You were begging for it yesterday, weren’t you?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“You’re friends with Hope on the Street? J-Hope? Really?” you ask in disbelief. The guy is somewhat of a celebrity so it’s a little unnerving knowing he’s going to be at this cabin. The segment he did on puppies recently really brightened up your day.

“His real name is Hoseok,” Jimin says with a nod, crunching into a potato chip. “He also goes by Hobi.”

You can’t stop yourself from asking. “That whole dildo thing everyone says? Is it true?”

Jimin coughs out the chip he had been chewing and you immediately apologize, but he laughs. “What have you heard? I’m not much of a gossip.”

You shake your head defensively. “I’m not either! It’s just… There are so many rumors. I’ve heard it was a vibrator, cucumber, a cordless mic… And it’s always an absurd length, like twelve inches or something like that.”

Jimin laughs so hard he snorts. “Oh my god. No! Okay, I’m going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, okay?”

“...Okay,” you agree, not realizing the pit you’ve fallen into.

“If you promise you won’t tell…” he trails, looking out the window.

“I pinky promise,” you say as you stick out your little finger. You’re too curious now. You have to know.

“Don’t let on that you know, either,” he continues as he links his pinky with yours and looks over at you. “Promise?”

Your eyes dart over to his for a split second before focusing back on the road. “I promise, my prince.”

He smiles, taking the opportunity to hold your hand while he talks. “Hmm. By the time we get there hopefully you’ll feel like you know them a little. I’ve told you some pretty tame stories so far but… The truth is that we’ve all known each other since we were kids. So I know all of their dirty laundry.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you even though you can’t pay attention to his suggestive facial expressions. Why do you feel like you’re getting more than you bargained for?

“You’re such a dork. Just tell me about J-H--Hoseok.”

“So impatient,” he teases with a sigh. “I mean honestly it’s not that bad. Hoseok and his girlfriend, Cat, have been together for a while now. They were… experimenting in the bedroom together. The dildo they were using was pretty small and she lost her grip on it. That’s really all there is to it. Someone must have heard him talking to the nurses.”

That makes total sense. Of course everything gets blown out of proportion. Poor guy.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t let it get to him at all. He keeps a smile on and can talk around pretty much everything. But when you put him with Cat, together? They have no shame and if you’re not careful they’ll drag you into their filthy games.”

“Have they dragged you into them, Jimin?” you ask with a smile, genuinely curious with a side pang of envy. Whoever is dating someone as fine as J-Hope must be hot as hell. Just imagining Jimin being thrown into that mix has you salivating, wishing you could have been the meat in that sandwich instead.

“Maybe,” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “B-But that was a long time ago.”

“Too bad,” you suck your teeth. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

Jimin’s eyes go wide and he swallows a nervous laugh, not wanting to accept the possibility so easily if it was only meant as a joke. “I mean if you’re interested I can always ask if they might want to.”

You laugh nervously, not expecting that possibility. “I… haha, let me meet them first. They might hate me for all you know. I tend to talk when I get nervous and then mess everything up.”

“It’s part of your charm. You’re cute when you get shy. You have this… innocence that’s endearing. They’ll love you. You’d probably be their new favorite... toy...” he trails off into a breathy whisper, losing himself in some daydream.

“Are you sure you won’t get jealous?” you ask, snapping him back to reality. “Mistledough man had you so moody.”

“Ah, Seokjin. You know, I once caught him jerking it to a muffin.”

You blink a few times. “Seokjin is the bakery dorito,” you affirm, keeping your eyes on the highway. “And you caught him jacking it … Jimin. Tell me mistledough is cum-free.”

He laughs. “Seokjin would never. Don’t worry. It wasn’t at the bakery.”

“But… why…?”

“I don’t know. I never received any context for it and I was too afraid to ask. Honestly, I think it’s his messed up relationship with his ‘not girlfriend.’” He uses air quotes to signify his distaste for the situation. “Pumpkin. At least he calls her that. Everyone else calls her Grump.”

“Oof. She a bitch?”

“If you were at the shop, you must have seen her.”

You pause to recall the day you’d stopped in. “There was this one girl that was staring at me but I figured it might be someone I knew from high school so I avoided eye contact. Got this chill down my spine though.”

“Yeah that’s her. She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s secretly soft on the inside. She just needs time to warm up to people. I think she has a hard time showing affection. We’ve all known her almost as long as we’ve known each other. She just needs to get laid. Scratch that. She needs to get laid by Jin. They’ve been dancing around it for over a decade, Snow. Imagine if you and I never… for over ten years.”

You exhale air through puffed cheeks. “I’d have moved on after two. You’re lucky you made a move when you did.” You give his hand a playful squeeze. “Why haven’t they yet?”

“They’ve both been in love with each other for so long I think they’re blinded by it now,” he guesses with a shrug. “They’re so in love that they can’t even see it anymore. Maybe they never did. But there’s always this air of jealousy that makes it impossible for either of them to be happy with anyone else. I should probably sit them both down and talk them through it, but sometimes Seokjin… Ah, he closes his ears to anything he doesn’t like. Maybe this year will be different. She always comes so if you think she’s glaring at you, she probably is, but don’t take it personal.”

You nod in quiet contemplation for a moment before moving on. “Tannie’s dad?”

“Ah. Taehyung. He’s probably my closest friend. Don’t tell the others. Him and Star have been together since college and are so perfect for each other it makes my heart ache. They’re really… unique. It’s okay if you think they’re weird because they are. But that’s their charm. They listen to really old records and wear vintage clothes and talk about art all the time. It used to make me cringe at first but now it makes me happy. It’s probably because I don’t live with him anymore.”

You spare a curious glance at him “You lived with him?”

“Roommates right after high school. Before he went off to art school and got his degree. Then I went off to uni for business and marketing.”

“Ah, right. College. That thing that most people do after highschool. I’m dumb.”

Jimin frowns, knowing it’s a sore subject for you. “You’re not dumb. Be nice to yourself. It’s not your fault you never got a chance to go.”

Your fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, enough so your knuckles pale. “I know I’m not dumb. I could have been a vet by now. I was smart enough for it. I could have done it.”

He reaches out to place a reassuring palm on your shoulder. “You can still go back, you know.”

You shake your head, swallowing the bitter pill that you missed your chance for that kind of life. Things are different now. You like your job. You like your life. You don’t need to use schooling as an escape from your home. Maybe it’s time to let go of the resentment. You can still be smart and not go to college. You can still enjoy a job that doesn’t require a degree.

“I need to work on not being so bitter about my past,” you answer with a shake of your head. “I like where I am now and if I don’t, I can always change. Thank you for helping me remember that. So.. where were we? Taehyung?”

“Ah, I caught him sucking on her toes once,” he says very matter-of-factly.

“What?!”

“When he moved out and told me about his roommate, I thought he’d be living with another man. He invited me over to meet them. Imagine my surprise when I came by. The door to his room was wide open and he’s sitting there licking up the bottom of her foot, putting her toes in his mouth.”

“What did they do when they saw you standing there?” you purse your lips, wondering if Jimin had been a part of this couple’s sex life as well.

“Oh, they tried to laugh and play it off like ‘Oh no we were messing around... it’s not like that... Why would be doing something like that? Da da da.’ All the excuses, you know? But I saw it and I can’t unsee it. He had a boner and she looked like she was enjoying it.” He shakes his head.

“I still think it’s funny you know him. He pampers Tannie. A lot. Like he spends an absurd amount on that dog. He loves him so much. It’s so cute. Wait… Does that mean you know other Mr. Kim? Moni’s dad?”

Jimin looks over. “You know Namjoon too?”

“This isn’t so bad. I’ve at least seen these people,” you say, mostly to yourself as a comforting thought. “Actually, I gave him a dog treat for Moni and he just… Jimin, he ate it right in front of me. I didn’t know what to do so I just smiled.”

Jimin start roaring with laughter. “That sounds like Namjoonie. At least that was edible. I watched him drink perfume once. He said it smelled so good he wanted to see what it tasted like. I’m not sure how drunk he was, but he had to be pretty far gone. You know he’s really intelligent, but he makes some really bad decisions. He will deny this until the day he dies, but I was there for his ‘bad boy’ phase back in high school. He purposefully failed classes because he thought it made him look cooler and he’d always brag about blowing off dates with girls and pretending to be a loner. Not to mention he always wore some kind of black t-shirt with a fake deep quote on it, he had a leather jacket, painted his fingernails black, had a mohawk...”

“Really? That guy? Did he have a motorcycle too?” you snicker. “That would really sell it for me.”

“He may have painted blue flames on the side of his bicycle,” he jokes. “Do I have to worry about him stealing you too?”

You roll your eyes. “Tell me about another one and I’ll tell you who’s the most dangerous. Right now, you’re still winning.”

“Yoongi looks the most intimidating. He looks like a bad boy, covered in tattoos and piercings. He even has his dick pierced. I’ve seen it. Yes, it looks painful. People say he comes off as cold, but he’s really not.”

“Like Grump?”

“Hmmmm… Different. Have you ever heard of Inkspires? It’s the tattoo shop across town.”

You think for a moment. It’s not like you live in a big city, but you’re not sure you’ve ever had a reason to go to such a place. You rack your brain trying to think of the place he’s talking about. When you shake your head, he seems a little sad.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know them once I’m done. I’m working on rebranding them. Pro bono. I’m working to make it something everyone will recognize. Jisoo’s got a lot of ideas and I’m excited to bring them to life. It will take some time, but I think it will be worth it.” He smiles. “I think he might be bringing his new girlfriend. What did he call her? Plum? Melons?” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, Peaches.”

“Peaches?”

Jimin shrugs. “They started dating recently. I don’t have all the details yet. It’s kind of a big deal. He usually doesn’t bring a date. He usually doesn’t date. And unless something has changed-- which I don’t think it has-- he's still a virgin.”

Your mouth falls open. “Really? How? I mean, that’s kind of impressive, honestly. The world is so busy trying to sell sex. How do you keep away from it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, I know. My whole business is embedded in it. I guess he’s never had anyone he really wanted to share the experience with. I told you, he’s a real soft-hearted guy. He works part time at Construct-a-Cub during the holidays. He donates a lot of stuff to charities for children.”

“Wow. He sounds like a really good person,” you say, genuinely stunned by the kindness people can show.

“Don’t be fooled. He’ll tell you he hates kids. Secret softie. But similar to Grump, if you think he’s being cold, he’s probably just wary. Give him time and he’ll warm up to you. Keep an open mind. And don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“He’s the one who actually did my tattoo and piercings.”

“I meant to ask about those…”

“Tae, Guk, and I decided we were all gonna get them right after college. Kind of a celebration pact type thing. Tae chickened out after watching us go and since he already paid for it, Star ended up getting hers done in his place.”

“Ouch,” you hiss through your teeth, mentally conjuring the level of endurance that might take.

“It really wasn’t that bad.” He laughs. “I was surprised by how little it hurt compared to what I imagined.”

“Did you watch?”

“Hmm?”

“Star getting hers done.”

Jimin licks his lips and stares out the window with a shy smile. “Yoongi offered to kick everyone out, but she insisted we stay. Tae didn’t talk to us for a week. He’s a baby sometimes. He knows she only has eyes for him. I think she’s an exhibitionist. Don’t be surprised if you catch her walking around naked.”

You hold back a snort with a pang of irrational jealousy. “What? For real?”

“I’m joking. Kind of. She’s soft and sweet and as a couple they’re pretty reserved. But I’ve heard them competing with Cat and Hobi for loudest cabin sex.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I guess that just leaves Jeongguk. Where do I start? He keeps humiliating himself in front of his coworker. He’s got a big crush on her but his brain just melts any time he’s close to her. For instance, he started going on about how heavy it is to carry around his balls. He kind of put his foot in his mouth, since he was talking about soccer balls. You know, he kind of reminds me of you. Almost like you’re related.”

“Jimin!” You choke on your own spit, trying to focus on the lines separating the lanes.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence. “What?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty boring actually. After I came out of your apartment covered in your juices, he accused me of eating someone’s pussy. I showed him a picture of you and he told me you guys are cousins.”

“Okay forget I asked. Please don’t say any more,” you plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I can’t believe this shit. Why are you friends with my cousin?... That means… That Taehyung… oh fuck. I’ve been playing video games with Mr. Kim for years. Oh god. I’ve been talking about you to both of them in-game. Oh god, this is so weird. Let’s go back to when I didn’t know my cousin has been friends with my boyfriend for literal years. Our town is small, but how fucking small is the world when I moved from the city and I’m still dating my cousin’s friend?”

Jimin smiles. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it really bother you? He’s happy for you.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just weird. I’ll need to adjust to the fact that you two know each other at all. Oh my god. I should have known. In-game. He named his pet Tannie. God, I’m so stupid!”

After a minute of listening to the soft sounds of the radio, he looks over and asks, “Am I still winning?”

“I don’t know. Yoongi’s sounding pretty sweet right now.”

He gasps, acting surprised by your answer. “No,” he whines.

You twine his fingers in yours and bring them to your lips. “Don’t worry. I’m yours and yours only. I belong to one charming, snake of a prince. What are your secrets anyway?”

“You really want to know?”

You cock your head to one side and spare a fleeting glance at him. “Spill ‘em.”

“You have to promise not to tell.”

You smile, seeing the exit you need to take quickly approaching. “If you tell me I’ll wrap these lips around your cock when we get there. Wherever you want.”

“...That’s not a promise, Snow.”

“I guarantee you it is.”

You shiver as Jimin wraps his arms around you, sinking his chin into the crook of your shoulder. A heavy sigh reverberates against your ear as he presses his hardening length into your ass. “So?”

“So what?”

“Not too awkward right?” he confirms, holding your waist and swaying back and forth.

“Yeah, I almost forgot my cousin showed up with my bestie. Definitely don’t want to be around to hear them go at it. I really don’t need that image in my head. How far is our room from theirs?” you ask, reaching behind you to run your fingers across his pants in the place he needs you most.

He inhales deeply and purses his lips for a moment. “I don’t know. We change it up every year. First come...” He hikes your dress up and slides his hand over your thigh, teasing the sensitive bud beneath your panties. “First served.”

You groan as he licks a line from your collarbone to your ear.

“What do you think? Now that we’ve had dinner, can I have dessert?”

You shiver and turn your face to give him a quick peck.

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe I want dessert,” you counter, licking your lips and sparing a glance down to the place your fingers are massaging.

A whine rumbles up and out of his throat as his hands roam the exterior of your dress, gliding up your sides until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. “You make this dress look good.”

Deft fingers play with the button on the back of your neck, making quick work of the zipper concealed beneath. The fabric of your party dress falls away from your body and pools around your feet. “But it looks better on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you time to ruminate on how exposed you feel. He’s already spinning you around and pushing you towards the guest bed you’ll be sharing for the night. As you fall back against the cold comforter, he’s working the buttons off his shirt. Not fast enough. You’ve been wanting this all day. The notches on his belt are so small the buckle gets stuck; you nearly snap the metal with how quick your fingers are moving. He offers a surprised gasp as you drag his boxers down with his pants, thick cock springing free from its confines

You pump him with your hand once before taking him in your mouth. His hands, which had been fumbling with the last button on his shirt, fist in your hair as you bob up and down over his shaft. It takes all his restraint, but he tightens his grip with a moan and pulls you off him. You give him a confused pout, trying to move your mouth close enough to take him back in. He allows you to move forward just a little, your lips ghosting over the tip before he yanks your hair to force you to behave.

“You said it could be wherever I choose,” he murmurs, losing himself in the way you’re flicking your tongue out in attempts to coax him back into your mouth.

“So where do you want me, baby?” You want him so bad. You need him. And from the way he allows you to brush your lips against him again, he feels the same. You lick your lips in anticipation, causing a shiver to wrack his body as it passes over every sensitive nerve ending on the head of his throbbing cock. “Please.”

With just a word, he allows you to take the tip in your mouth, tongue gliding across every last bit you’ll give. He bites his lip hard and reluctantly shakes his head, pulling you back again. “Not yet. I want to make you sing first.”

“What am I singing?” you confusedly ask, knowing full well you’re probably tone-deaf. But you’ll do anything he requests if he’ll let you suck his dick without being a total tease.

He giggles, watching the desperation in your eyes cloud your understanding. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours and slips his tongue between them, tasting the faint traces of himself left behind.

“Sing my name,” he pleads between open-mouthed kisses, hands sliding around to cup your jaw. “It sounds like heaven spilling from your lips.”

He pulls back long enough for your eyes to flutter open and see the love coursing through every last bit of his soul. He reaches down and splays his hands over your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your red panties before working them down your thighs in a playful wiggle. You pop open the last button on his shirt as he plunges a finger into you.

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you don’t take it off now,” you say, a not so subtle attempt to get him to remove it so there’s only skin touching skin.

He rolls his eyes, shaking the fabric from his arms. “Take your bra off for me?”

You discard the undergarment quicker than his shirt can fall to the floor, pulling his body down on top of you so you can feel that closeness you’ve grown accustomed to sharing.

“Jimin, I want you,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as he clamps his mouth down on your neck. That elicits a moan from him against your throat as he sucks a line of kisses down to a softened nipple.

“Yours would look good pierced,” he comments, squeezing both with his fingers before moving his hands to massage the flesh surrounding them.

“I’m good,” you laugh, watching the fascination in his eyes as your nipples pebble at the loss of the pleasurable pressure.

He hums a sound of indifference, pushing your tits together and burying his face between them. He’s sure to dip his tongue in the cleavage he’s created for his own benefit.

“Get up here. I miss you,” you whine, twining your fingers in his hair and guiding him back towards your mouth.

His mouth hungrily crashes down on yours and has you gasping for more in seconds. “Please… fuck.” He sucks your bottom lip through his teeth. “Jimin, please fuck me.”

His breath is haggard on inhale as he allows your lip to snap back to you. “But I haven’t even made you cum yet. What kind of boyfriend would I be?”

You take his hand and direct it to the slick, sticky juices coating your sex. “An amazing one. You make me wet without even trying.”

Jimin gasps, sliding two fingers past your lips and filling your pussy just to be sure you could take him. He pops his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, rutting the tip of his dick against your clit. Your body spasms as he rubs the entirety of his shaft against you. He grins when you lock your arms around his back and dig your fingernails into his muscles.

“You sure you don’t want me to make you cum first?” he offers again with a roll of his hips.

“I want your cock inside me now,” you whisper in a low, raspy tone, hot breath tickling his ear.

His hips stutter as he draws his pelvis back and you feel his tip teasing the heat of your entrance. When he pauses, you roll your hips beneath him, enticing him to continue his journey as the head circles your labia. Unable to exert any more self control, he sinks into you in a slow descent until he’s buried in you to the hilt. You both let out a held breath and moan against each other pitifully.

“Shit! Sorry!” Suddenly he pulls out and scrambles off of you like you’re made of lava, crossing the room and rifling through his bag. When he turns around, he's tearing the condom wrapper with his teeth, a sight you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you should have known you were skipping a step.

“At least you remembered,” you sigh, getting into a comfortable position against the pillows. “I probably would have let you cum in me.”

“Now you tell me,” he jokes, dragging the condom down his shaft with ease.

“This isn’t the olden days, you know. Women have birth control,” you tease, spreading your legs and rubbing circles into your clit as he climbs on top of you.

“Oh so you want me to rip this condom off and fill you with my cum? Watch it drip down your leg when we join everyone at midnight?”

The thought turns you on more than it should. You increase the speed and pressure of your fingers against your clit. “Yes…” you whine.

He leans back on his knees as he slots himself between your legs, pressing his sheathed cock into you as you touch yourself for him.

“You want everyone to know you’re mine, don’t you?” he asks, thrusting himself up into you at a steady pace.

“Yes, Jimin…”

“All that sweetness. That innocence. You want everyone to see what a bad girl you really are. You want to show off for them, show them your pretty pussy. Full of my cum. Don’t you?”

You’re so fucking close. Everything he says is just getting you more worked up and you whimper, nodding like you’re a bobblehead without a brain.

“Say it, Snow,” he demands, slowing his pumps to a stop.

“Please,” you beg, desperately wiggling your hips to feel him again. “Please fuck me. I want you to show everyone how well you fill this tight pussy.”

“Oh, that’s it baby. Touch yourself for me. You getting off thinking about that?” He grunts as he resumes fucking himself into you, slinging your legs over his shoulders to hit deeper without hindering your ability to touch yourself. “I want you to tell me. Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

You clench around his cock, not used to hearing such filth come from his mouth.“This pussy is yours, Jimin. Use me like your little fuck toy.”

He tenses, throbbing inside you as he growls,“Tell me you’re my cumslut.”

With one hand pressing circles into your clit and the other squeezing your breast, you search his face, hoping to find yourself in it. You’re so far gone you can’t even register the lewd sounds of pleasure spewing from your mouth.

“Use your words. You can do it,” he whispers, beaming with pride.

“I’m... your cumslut,” you whisper between frenzied panting. “Fuck. Jimin. I’m close.”

He slows his pace, bending himself over you to move in for a messy kiss. “Such a good girl, my little cumslut. Squeezing my cock with that tight pussy… Want me to fuck you raw, don’t you?”

“Fuck. Yes. Fuck me raw baby. You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum inside me,” you confess loudly, not caring who might hear. “Take it off, baby. I want you to fill this pussy. Leave me dripping...”

His mouth comes crashing down on yours again, muffling the sounds of your obscene begging. “That’s too bad. Because I’m gonna fill that pretty, filthy little mouth instead.”

Your climax hits you faster than you can vocalize it. “I’m…”

You gush around the cock pistoning into you and when he feels your walls clamp down, he stays inside to subject himself to the delicious torture of every twitch and pulse you deliver.

“That’s it, princess. Good girl,” he whispers, sweetness in his voice returning.

His forehead drops against yours and he rides out your high with you, pressing his lips to yours until your hands fall limp against the mattress.

“That was…” you pause, heavy breaths mingling with his. “...amazing.”

“You still want dessert?” he questions with a grin.

“Finally. Give it to me,” you plead, kissing his lips again and again.

“Not here,” he whispers, a devilish smile gracing his features.

The water is warm and inviting. The bubbles bursting from the jets below offer pressure in all the right spots in all the right ways. How he had convinced you to enter the jacuzzi with him completely naked is beyond you. You’re terrified someone might walk in, but he assures you everyone is lost in their own world.

You lean forward, pressing your tits together as he positions his dick between them and starts with lazy thrusts. You stare up at his fucked out expression, savoring the way his jaw hangs open as he watches his cock slip between your wet breasts. A shy smile crosses your face when you realize he’s looking in your eyes rather than at the lewd act of his shaft sliding between two perfect mounds. He’s lost, a disoriented smile setting up camp in the corners of his mouth.

You look down and stick your tongue out to brush the head of his cock every time it comes up towards your face. He slots his fingers in your hair, curling strands into his fist.

“Do you want to fuck my throat?”

He nods weakly, guiding you back against the seat of the jacuzzi. You pump your fist over his cock a few times as he towers over you. Relaxing your jaw, you take him to the base, tongue wiggling against his balls. He loses his footing for a moment, slipping against the bottom of the hot tub.

“Maybe you should sit down,” you suggest, his dick coming out of your mouth with a loud pop.

“Can you hold your breath for that long?” He sounds unsure, even as he’s settling in the space across from you.

“Think of it as an edging session,” you giggle, taking a deep breath and submerging yourself in the water.

When he feels you take him into your mouth again, his jaw goes slack as he stretches out his arms across the side of the hot tub and tilts his head back.

“Hey, did you come alone?” Hobi’s voice breaks his moment of peace.

Jimin panics, hands diving into the water to keep your head beneath the surface. Hopefully the bubbles from the jets will obscure your form. He wracks his brain, trying to think of something to say as he stares blankly at Hoseok and Cat, who are now standing in the doorway with eyebrows raised.

You grip his legs and fight against his hands, shooting up from the water with the grace of someone who just got a bunch of water up their nose and nearly drowned. You cough and sputter, swiping water from your eyes as you see two figures standing in the doorway. Recognizing one as J-Hope, your heart sinks. Jimin mentioned he was running late when he didn’t show up for dinner.

This is how you meet Hope on the Street. Of course it is.

The hot chick next to him must be his girlfriend. Realizing you’re completely nude, you sink down in the water to your chin and smile as sweetly as you can.

“Hi, you must be Hoseok and Cat! Jimin’s told me so much about you.”

Hoseok sputters, laughing with his mouth wide open. You recoil at the sound, wishing the jacuzzi would melt your bones and just leave you to live your life as a puddle from now on.

Cat lightly smacks him in the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ll hang out later, give you guys some space. Sorry!”

She shoves her boyfriend through the door, leaving you alone with Jimin.

“I want to die,” you say, clapping your hands to your cheeks. “I wish I had drowned instead.”

“It’s not that bad, really,” Jimin says, pulling you back to his body.

“Hope on the Street just cackled at the sight of me coming up for air after sucking your dick. Hell of a first impression,” you grumble, rubbing your temple.

“We can ‘walk in’ on them later if it makes you feel better,” he suggests with a laugh.

You disappear under the water, picking up where you left off. If they were going to catch you giving him a blowjob, you might as well finish it. The taste of chemicals is already on your tongue; it can’t be for nothing.

“I love you,” he says when you come out of the water for air.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shyly kissing his lips before descending again.

Every time you resurface, he’s waiting, bringing you to his lips with a sweet kiss. You can tell he’s close, but you’re having too much fun popping out of the water to kiss him. Finally, he’s had enough of the edging and has you kneeling in the center of the jacuzzi, sloppily thrusting himself deep into your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you mumble a sound of affirmation against his cock, only choking slightly.

The grunt of his release comes with the bitter tang of his cum hitting the back of your throat as he bottoms out. You swallow it bit by bit, doing your best not to sputter and choke with the way he’s tightly holding the back of your head in place. He loosens his grip and pulls back, catching the tears in your eyes and concernedly swiping at them with his thumbs. You swallow what’s left in your mouth like a champ.

“You okay?” he checks in, settling into the water with you. “That was too much, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head with a giggle. “I like when you’re rough. I’m just… out of practice.”

“We can work on it then,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into an embrace.

When he brings his lips to meet yours, butterflies tickle your insides like it’s the first time. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kiss, in his everything. Being with him still feels like a dream. Never in your life could you have imagined loving someone could feel so good, so pure, so right.

“Hey it’s probably almost midnight. Do you wanna go do the countdown with everyone?”

You respond with a nod. “Champagne?”

“Of course.”

He gets out first and you watch the water roll off his body as he extends a hand to help you out of the hot tub. Pruny fingers grasp his, hoping he knows just how much he means. You’re ready to face the new year together and you’re ready to jump into this found family head first.

Heading for the door, you pause, turning back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

With a laugh, he comes up behind you, draping a robe around your naked form. “You might want to put this on.”

What would you do without him? You swallow hard, donning the robe and smiling at him. He links his fingers with yours and you head inside together.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #384

“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr. What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway? Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have. How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it. When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired. Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh. Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school. Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole. What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak. Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly. Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah. Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise. Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot. Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really. What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest. What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-; Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any. Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously* Do you have Netflix? Yeah. Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store. Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times. Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation. Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man. Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable. Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe. Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both. Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting. Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No. Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few. Has a book ever made you cry? Yes. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware. What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market. How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics. Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano. What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read. Do you use Pinterest? Yes. Do you know any sign language? No. Do you have a favorite poem? No. Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now. Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance. When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time. What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it. Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes. Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year. If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18. Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too. What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water. What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden. When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed. Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No. Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist. What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins. Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out. Are you into fashion design? Not really. What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit. How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no. Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon. Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE. Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore. What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school. What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title. Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all. When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before. How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None. Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Akira Otori Card story “A tasty way of eating hotdogs”

Translation of Akira Otori’s 3* “Happy easter” card story from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Akira: Uuugh~~ my tummy’s rumbling. In times like these only hot dogs will do the trick

Akira: Is that Super Dogs stall open…. oooh, it is♪

Akira: Geezer, gimme a hotdog… no, gimme two!

Stall owner: Oh, if it isn’t Akira. Thanks for dropping by each time

Stall owner: I’ll whip out a hot one for ya in a jiffy. One that you’ll relish for sure! Ah ha ha ha!

Akira: …..Was that a joke?

Akira: Y’know that reminds me how lately you haven’t been able to reel in many customers. I remember days where people were all lined up to get one

Stall owner: It’s all because of the temperature. Not because of my business getting less popular

Stall owner: During the cold season people tend to eat inside, do they not? And I got a store back at the mall that’s doing pretty well, so it’s no different than any other winter

Stall owner: Well, this year winter’s been sure dragging on for a bit… Wish spring would come sooner

Akira: Right… True that there ain’t many people in Million Park itself right now

Akira: The best way to enjoy your hotdog is when laying down in the grass but I don’t see anyone doing it right now

Akira: If Super Dogs went outta business I wouldn’t know what to do, I’ll drop by each day until it gets warmer♪

Stall owner: Hahaha, you’re still a valued customer even if you don’t. I’ll be relying on you too… Here ya go, two hotdogs 

Akira: Thanks ol’ man

Akira: (Sales dropping ‘cuz of the cold, eh… Had no idea.)

Akira: (Though I think that hotdogs oughta be eaten in the winter, ‘cuz they’re so hot and tasty it’ll warm you right up.)

Akira: (Well, they’re damned good in the summer too♪)

Jay: Ah, Akira. What a coincidence to run into you here

Akira: Jay! What’s up, you know you’re in South?

Jay: Haha, I got some time off now. Thought of going to a donut shop here in Red South. Even though it’s still as cold as in the winter, they’ve brought out their seasonal spring flavours 

Jay: …..Actually, Akira. Aren’t you cold?

Akira: Eh? Why?

Jay: You’re not wearing your jacket, and your sleeves are rolled up….

Akira: I’m all good. I can resist any kind of heat or cold♪

Akira: I got a jacket but, pretty much haven’t worn it since the day it got said that it’s time for a change of seasons

Jay: You’re quite a fit young man. Even today I was hesitating about whether I should wear it or not

Akira: It’s already spring though?

Jay: According to the calendar. Easter is coming up slowly too….

Jay: Speaking of it, your sector is entering the Easter League, right? Already decided on what you’ll do for the mock battle and event?

Akira: Brad and Oscar are discussing what the mock battle should be. As for the event we’re gonna be doing an egg hunt

Akira: It’s my first Easter League since I became a hero, so I ain’t gonna lose to you guys!

Jay: Oooh, there’s more than enough motivation in you. We won’t hold back either

Akira: What are you guys gonna do for it?

Jay: We’re still trying to figure it out, or rather the coldness has made it difficult to go through with our original ideas.

Jay: Chinatown and Little Tokyo are both located in Green East, yes? And during spring New Million is a popular tourism destination due how there’s rare flowers to be seen here.

Jay: We’ve thought of a plan taking advantage of it and putting the flowers first to draw attention, but with this cold weather there's a general delay of when they will bloom….. We had no choice but to change it up.

Jay: However, it’s no different for the other sectors. All of our team members are going to cooperate and think of something that’ll liven up the Easter League.

Akira: Just as expected from you♪ Can’t wait for it

Jay: Ah, I’m glad to hear that, Akira

Jay: …..Oh, you’ve already gotten to your second hotdog while we were talking? I’ve been thinking they’re looking pretty good since earlier

Akira: They’re damned good! I can confidently say that stall is like, in my number one hotdog ranking. It’s THE best!

Akira: When it comes to hotdogs, I’m your guy! I know just as much about ‘em as you do with donuts

Jay: Super Dogs, you say… I did hear that it’s pretty good, alright suppose I’ll get one too♪

-

Jay: That savoury fragrance of the sausage grilling… the smell is enough to make me hungry.

Akira: Right? But hear me out, with these hotdogs there’s a way to enjoy them to the fullest. Which is exaclty….. laying down in the grass and digging in ‘em!

Akira: Under the blue sky, with your back against the grass and stuffing your mouth with hotdogs, savouring the taste, that’s the ultimate way of how to enjoy them!

Jay: I see…. Alright, I’ll give it a shot!

Akira & Jay: ……

Jay: I’m enjoying my hotdog but, my back is feeling quite prickly….

Akira: Huuum~ Even the grass makes ya feel like it’s still winter. During spring or summer it’s pretty soft, making it feel just right

Jay: Ahaha, perhaps we were a bit too eager 

Brad: …..What is going on here?

Akira: Gweh, Brad!?

Jay: Oooh, Brad. Akira has been teaching me about the best way to eat hotdogs

Jay: That laying down in the grass like this and eating hotdogs doesn’t beat any other feeling… Don’t you want try it out with us, Brad?

Akira: Hmph, you know he’s one of these guys that eats hotdogs with knife and fork? He wouldn’t even dare to

Brad: ……….

Akira: Wait!? Just wait a second before scolding me!

Akira: We’ve known each other for a bit now… So I kiiiiinda can tell what you’ll be going on about, okay

Akira: Like this ain’t manners to be eating hotdogs like this, and a proper hero should be an example for the people or something, that kind of stuff-

Brad: No, you’re wrong.

Akira: Really now!?

Brad: It’s more out of concern about how you’ll prone to catching a cold due laying down in grass in this cold weather. It was worrying how both of you weren’t showing any movement either thus I reached out.

Brad: Especially for you, Akira. You’re lightly dressed, to the point that looking at you is making me feel cold. It’s fine that your body can resist it, but don’t overestimate yourself.

Akira: Huh, uh huh…

Brad: Either way…. The best way to eat hotdogs, huh? Isn’t it too soon to lay down in the grass?

Jay: Ah, it is. It’s a bit prickly for your back

Jay: Still, I feel as if it did taste better eating while looking at the sky.

Akira: Right? I knew Jay would get it~ Make sure to tell others about my suggestion ‘bout how ya should eat hotdogs

Jay: Mhm, leave it up to me

Brad: ….Hmm. There is a feeling of liberation when eating differently than one usually does, it might even be stimulating towards your sense of taste.  

Brad: Suppose I’ll try it out too once spring comes around, since it’ll be warmer and the grass will have grown too. 

Akira: Eh? EEEEEEH!?

Brad: Why are you surprised? Wasn’t it a “recommendation”?

Akira: I-it is but… No, you laying down in the grass, with hotdogs……?

Jay: Ahaha! Nice one, Brad

Jay: Let’s sit down and enjoy some hotdogs once it’s warmer♪

[tamedbyafox]

Its been a year since I had COVID.

Its been a year since I admitted that tickle in my throat was more than a tickle. That I’d definitely coughed 10 times today, which isn’t normal.That I wasn’t going to bed at 8 because I was bored, and that 1:30 PM nap wasn’t because I could, it was because I was too tired to keep sitting upright at my desk.

That when I took a deep breath....it wasn’t right. That it shouldn’t hurt like that. That my “in for four” was more of an in for three, maybe, and its not the same three its been since I was 12 and I first stared doing that silly routine a few times a day.

Its been a year since I caught covid and spent two weeks coughing, taking long hot showers, sleeping 16 hours a day when I wasn’t choking. Vomiting and praying and barely able to life a gallon of milk.

Me, the chef connoisseur, last week baking soda bread and making butter and prepping elaborate meals. The only thing I had the energy for was pasta with butter. The only thing I could keep down was a little chicken and some pasta.

Vomiting in literally every room in my apartment. Its not terribly common to get vomiting. Its atypical. But in a rough case, definitely happens. Vomiting from my bed, through the living room, through the bathroom, finally making it to the toilet. Winded and empty, tired and gross. Realizing I need to clean this. All of this. And it was bedtime - it was 8:30 PM and I knew I would be out cold soon, no matter what.

I drank over a gallon of water a day because there wasn’t anything more they thought might help me, just rest and liquids. Until...unless.... well, every few hours walk a few times across your apartment and if you can’t do it 4 times call me, if you can’t do it twice call 911. See if you can’t get a pulse oximeter. Pray someone will deliver it, since you shouldn’t go anywhere.

My temperature soaring and the Tylenol keeping it just under tight management. My fingers and toes freezing and shivering while I could feel my forehead burn. A humidifier I could barely lift. Hot showers and steam twice a day to keep the lungs moist and moving.

The fear. The raw fear. My mother’s voice on the other end of the phone, fresh out of the hospital herself - just getting out before the first waves landed, slipping out of her NeuroICU bed right before it was wheeled to a COVID ward. She cannot help me. She cannot come to me. She cannot help me. She cannot come to me. I must do this alone. I can cry for my mother all I want. I cannot cry for my mother when she calls. All she can do is call me and tell me to make some tea, go to bed, call her when I need her. My father dropping off food at the base of my apartment stairs and choking up; saying how relieved he is that I could make it up and down the three flights of stairs twice. My father trying to make jokes over the phone as he checks to see if I need anything, knowing I need a space that isn’t about...this. To give me just a few minutes of close-to-normal.

The voice of my grandmothers, both trying to tell me I sound so good, I sound like I’m getting stronger, I sound like I’m doing well. You sound so good my girl, you sound so good. I am so grateful, you sound so good as I mute my phone for coughing fits. My aunt talking to me about Easter, distracting me, keeping me focused on how next year, next year we’ll have Easter again. I send her pictures of my Easter breakfast. She catches that all the dishes are from her or her mother. We talk tradition. She was waiting as I coughed. Muting the phone when I realize its a fit. Don’t worry them too much, they don’t need to know. (Little would I learn, they were scared, I sounded terrible and my aunt said she wished I would rest, not try to talk. How could I tell her I needed someone there? In case I stopped breathing? someone had to hear my voice go.)

My friends. So kind. So willing. To sit on the phone with me, tell me anything please god don’t make me talk just please don’t let me be alone, the scariest part is that I am here and I am alone and dear god I don’t want to die alone. Across states and time zones and schedules they keep me safe and sane and saw me to bed.

Staring at the ceiling as my heart races. I don’t know why my heart is racing. Covid causes strokes in young people and my mom just had an aneurysm and what if its genetic and what if this pain in my arm is the heart attack they say covid can cause and why can’t I sleep and why is my heart rate above 140 all I am doing is laying here. Is this a panic attack or a heart attack; most days I know this is a panic attack but today I don’t know anything.

Zoom with my doctor.  Another Zoom with my doctor. Every few days, Zoom with my doctor. She has taken care of me since I was 12. I begged to be allowed to see her, asked her to take me even though I was young. She has known my mother for longer. She knew me when I was just a clump of cells inside my mother. She is not a kind woman. She has never been a kind woman. I love that about her, she is business and brusque and funny and takes care and kicks you out. And she lingers with me. She lets me talk, she is gentle. She doesn’t tell me that Day 10 is the critical day until our second to last appointment. She doesn’t explain a cytokine storm until we’re on the cusp. I enter that appointment feeling...better. My head is clear. I was able to stay up to 9:30 before I needed to sleep. I was excited and I had a real in-breath that day.

When she told me that the next few days. Things might just...change. There’s no predicting it, no telling, not until.... not until you need to call.  I leave knowing that this better feeling could be an Indian summer and  I fear it like I fear the first storms of November.

Two long weeks. Of absolute misery. Of being so fucking tired. So fucking scared. Another week. Trying to just get back to myself and get to a point I felt like I came home without being covered in virus. To throw myself into my father’s arms and finally feel safe again. A few more days. Until I can’t take it and I have doctor’s approval and I want to go HOME.

Do you know, that from April until August, I counted myself lucky? When I got sick, we had just learned that initial data categorized non-hospitalized pneumonia as a “mild” case. I thought I had a “mild” case. Of course, I was still breathing, it was mild. I was so grateful. so grateful. It was not that bad, just a mild case, just...just COVID. We didn’t know how many people actually died. 2 percent? 10 percent? We thought it lived on surfaces for weeks and that you couldn’t get it if you wiped your groceries.

I was so happy that I had a “mild” case. Until I learned that some people barely get symptoms. Until my friend told me that of the folks he knew, I had it worst. Until I realized in January that the heavy humidifier I could barely life half full, to lug just 10 feet onto a stand, wasn’t heavy. I carried it full, one handed, three times that distance without a blink. When my doctor, that callous woman, grabbed my hand and held it when I came in. When she told me she had been so worried. That she told me “to call you sick as a damn dog is an understatement”. When I realized I really had COVID.

I am so damn lucky. A year later. To be sitting here. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two three four.

This past March was the first time I’ve been able to sing and do chores. I couldn’t sing while I worked. I couldn’t work if I was singing. There wasn’t enough air for it. This month I caught myself cleaning...and singing.

It’s been a year since I had COVID.

[blacckestrose]

20 + 5 questions

I was tagged by @ddaengtanboys thank you luv 💜💜

I actually did something like this 5mins ago, and I thought I would put these together, but then I just thought nah I have nothing else to do, and I love the tags so!! 💞

Name: Vilma

Nickname: I really don't have any, @memeofthesoul is the only one that has me a nickname 🥺

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Languages: Finnish, Swedish, English

Nationality: Finnish

Favorite Season: end of the spring OR super cold winter

Favorite Flower: I'm not a big flower person... More like I do not like them at all 😂 but sunflowers are beautiful!

Favorite Scent: vanilla and coconut 😍 and the smell after the rain from the grass

Favorite Color: pink, pink, pink, green, pink

Favorite Animal: probably dogs, but I do love all animals

Favorite Fictional Character: Sirius, Snape, Kili, Loki, Han Solo, Tarzan, Belle 🙏

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: COFFEE 100%

Average Sleep: depends on the day and night, so 0-12 hours 😂😂 my stress makes me not able to sleep and Easter has not been a great time with sleep for me

Dog or Cat Person: dog 100%

Number of Blankets: well it was 2, but my mom just knitted me a new one so now it's 3 🥺🥺

Dream Trip: around the world please? Okay, Seoul first, Tokyo next, Hanoi third, Melbourne fourth, Santiago fifth, Sao Paolo sixth, Toronto seventh, Reykjavik eighth, San Marino ninth, Tel Aviv tenth, Johannesburg eleventh, Cape Town twelfth and then just find a place I like the most and stay there

Blog Established: 2013.......😂

Followers: 264

Random Fact About Me: I'm the master of packing. Give me your smallest luggage and I'll fill that shit with incredibly amount of clothes and shoes.

Introvert or Extrovert: right in the middle I think 🤔

Place to Relax: my bed surrounded by my BT21 pluffies

Favorite Snack: oh damn, so many good snacks, how to pick one without hurting another one's feelings?! Let's take liquorice with chocolate, but do not tell my chips about it

Recent Shows: Catfish, Friends, Doctor Pimple (I KNOW WTF this isolation is making me do some questionable things, save me)

Favorite Video Game: I'm not a gamer 😂 so let me sayyy BTS World and Sims

Plus Five Questions! (don’t feel obligated to add more if you can’t tihnk of any)

Why did you join Tumblr? Why did I join again... I think it was my sister who told me about it and I started as a One Direction blog, but there was no particular reason why I started 😂

Hobbies: choir, travelling, eating

One Small Thing that Makes You Happy: well at the moment, my friends 💜

Favourite Time of Day: whenever I eat

Last movie you saw: Ice Age 4 😂😂😂

I tag @memeofthesoul @kookie-off-his-kookie @sweetpeajeon @agustmoonchildd @hoseoknysus @jinniestan

[youarejesting]

BTS 365 Prompts

[Masterlist] Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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   February 19th - 25th

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Kim Seokjin: Swords

The year was 1776 the ruler king Jeongjo. Paranoid that someone wanted him dead, He called for a competition “Any man who can wield a sword is allowed to participate, the winners  would be rewarded greatly”

A trip to see your good friend who had a more androgynous style. You explained the situation and they gave you advice before setting to work.  Lending you clothes and shoes and helping you style your hair. “Eric here will teach you how to act the part”

You had won the final match and joined the winners. Meeting an unbelievably handsome young man named Kim Seokjin. You all became the kings guard and you explained to the king and was still allowed to stay. You were bathing one evening in the hot spring and you heard someone enter. 

“Hey y/n is that you, you always bathe so late” he came closer and you and you froze up he grabbed your shoulder and you grabbed his hand and overpowered him to face him against the edge of the bath. He struggled pulling you in front of him trapping you between his arms and he blushed stepping back. He couldn’t say anything his ears pink. 

Min Yoongi: Humble @leuchtendesstrassenlicht

Yoongi got back last night while you were sleeping and you woke up in his arms, you smiled allowing him to sleep in. You really had to pee and you were feeling kind or hungry but you didn’t move. Betrayed by Holly who left to eat and run around the backyard. Instead you distracted yourself with a list of things you loved about your husband. You loved his voice, his dry humor you loved his hands, you loved his eyes, you loved the way he didn’t need to say he loved you for you to feel it. How he wasn’t very affectionate because when he was it was like Christmas. Looking back he was awake watching you and you smiled you prettiest smile at him. And his eyes scanned your face eyebrows turning down at the ends, it was the subtlest change but this was the face he made when ever he said I love you, so whenever you see it you know what he wants to say. 

Sharing a kiss you asked him about the awards last night and he told you they had won another handful of Daesang awards. “Show me photos”

“I didn’t take any” he pulled you close feeling his ears warm a little. 

“You didn’t, I want to see you all happy with an award” 

“I’m happy and you are better than any award anyone could give me”

Jung Hoseok: Multitasking

Hoseok was busy writing lyrics, so much so he took his phone everywhere. Including the shower, his phone locked behind a zip lock bag as he typed under the constant jets of hot water. He felt his muscles ease as he typed away placing his phone down playing the instrumental piece he washed his hair trying out the lyrics. 

He hummed and as his phone rang, it was a face-time from you the very girl he liked. Forgetting where he was he answered you were ranting about something. You paused leaning closer to the camera. “Are you in the shower?” He blinked leaving his dazed state and nodded blankly. 

“Yeah I was writing lyrics”

“Well let me hear what you got so far?” 

Kim Namjoon: Shoes

You were cleaning up the apartment you and your roommate mister Kim Namjoon were very friendly book lovers your lounge had been lined with bookshelves full of comics, textbooks, journals articles and novels. You frequently spent dinners gushing about the books you had read and recommending each other some favorite. 

You recently had been reading a few erotic romance stories and had blatantly recommended them over dinner last night. To which you thought nothing of it, but here you were cleaning

Namjoon left his shoes under the counter and his coat and bag on the chair you slipped your feet into the shoes and put on the jacket and bag. Grabbing his things and walking about the room putting them back in their place. You turned to see Namjoon stepping out of his room, he looked at your swamped figure in his coat and noticed how his shoes looked comical on your feet. 

He didn’t say a word as he took his scarf from the dresser and began wrapping you up in it, he topped the look off with a hat and sun glasses. You stood there watching the genius at work the smile on his face bringing out his dimples. Reaching onto his back jeans pocket he snapped a picture and added it to his Instagram labeled mini me. 

Park Jimin: Dog Biscuit

Jimin laid on the couch his chin resting on the arm while his arms hung over it. He was watching the front door his tail laid flat against his thigh every now and then his ear would twitch hearing various noises waiting to hear you come home. He was watching the door, his mind playing out your arrival whenever he pictured you his tail would swing and thump hard against the couch. 

He heard the elevator beep at the end of the hall but the steps were too heavy and wide, this wasn’t his beautiful owner. He didn’t hear the familiar rattle of keys. He returned to imagining once more he wanted to hold you in his arms and nuzzle your neck. 

There was the ping of the elevator and something strange it was light steps the legs were shaking and their was panting and groaning sounds he recognised his owners sounds and a million thoughts plagued his mind. 

He moved to the door opening it and looking out to see you beautifully disheveled teeth pinning your bottom lip as you struggled to carry a large bag in each hand. 

“Ah Jimin I have to unpack groceries” you frowned and he had lifted you hoodie and climbed in underneath looking up at you with his puffy eyes and pouty lips. “I bought bikkies”

“The dog biscuits I like”

“Honey they are people biscuits they are just shaped like dog biscuits it’s based off of Scooby doo their Scooby snacks”

“I wouldn’t complain if I was your dog”

Kim Taehyung: Shutter

“He is said to walk these very halls at night, no one has truly seen what he looks like but from what they have seen he has thick eyebrows and a cold dark stare, he can either appear as an angel or a demon and all you hear is a shutter of a camera before you disappear in a flash of light.. The only remnant left behind is the picture he takes.” You looked at the many horrified and dazed faces of the pictures some of them look rather beautiful. “He returns them later and they are never the same they quit the club and leave the school. The rumor is he died whilst taking a picture but nobody knows what it was or how it really happened. Nobody knows why he comes out but when he does, be careful not to let him take your picture” This was your induction to the photography club, but ghost stories in a small room wasn’t really your thing even if there was chimaek.

“Guys I am heading home, I got work tomorrow” you said and began walking down the hall stopping as you heard the sound of a shutter, you turned your heart racing slightly to see a silhouette at the end of the hall taking a picture of a single flower in a tiny vase on the window sill. It reflected the moonlight and he turned to different angles humming deeply.

Approaching him you smiled and looked at the beautiful photo he took he turned watching you, and gestured you to the window. you stood a meter away leaning against the sill and watching him curiously.

“Can you put your hair behind your shoulder and look out that way?” You nodded and did as he said his voice dark chocolate and you followed his instructions. Gazing out the window when he raised the camera and the flash sparked lighting up the hall followed by the echo of a shutter. The sound rang out and you were in the hall but it was day time and though you were in the same place it looked different.

Jeon Jungkook: Fairy Tale

Little Jungkook grew up on fairy tales, princes and princesses, knights and witches. He learnt that good always triumphs over evil and that if he wished hard enough and tried hard enough things will always work out. He believed in Santa and the Easter Bunny, he believed and trusted it all. Until one day something clicked, he lost someone dear to him and things changed. He was cold and didn’t trust anybody. Nobody could betray him if he didn’t have friends in the first place. Jungkook followed a routine leaving the house only for work and the store. He worked in accounting, it was all facts and logical thinking no imagination required. He would come home mentally drained and would fall asleep promptly.

Tonight was no different except he woke in the middle of the night to a strange sound, he froze his hand on his cell phone ready to call for help if needed. He watched the window lift and a figure tumble inside onto the floor.

“Ow, I can’t see” the voice was feminine and the shadowed figure was tiny. He sat up and turned on the light.

“Does this help?” he leaned his chin on his hand and you froze and he smirked “Are you here to steal from me?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Raising an eyebrow back at him as you stood using the bookshelf to straighten up he scanned your form for any weapons and came up empty.

“We won’t know if I believe you if you don’t try” he said “So why are you here?”

You looked at the shelf to find a worn out book, smiling to yourself you turned. “I am here to rescue you of course, I heard you were locked away in this castle and I am to save you and we ride off on my noble steed”

“I don’t believe you and you want to know why, because fairy tales aren’t real. There is no good in this world only benefits people only do what benefits them like you, breaking into my house to steal things” he sighed and you felt bad because he spoke like he didn’t care but his eyes were so sad. You walked across the room grabbing his jacket and throwing it at him.

“Come on!” You said “Let’s go back out the window, I am rescuing you from this belief that the world is bad, life is a fairy tale if you make it that way, and you just met the most generous most beautiful and charming young knight in uh a polyester blend fabric but shining armor nonetheless, Give me 24 hours and I will prove you wrong, if I lose I will let you call the police”

“Fine” he sighed swinging his legs out of the bed.

Next Week

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch3: What Happens in Vegas...

Summary: We catch up with what Fliss got up to whilst Frank was living it up in Vegas, before they both face up to the events of the weekend, because this time what happened in Vegas certainly doesn’t stay there…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

Just when it seems like everything’s evened out, and the balance seems serene, see the fool I’ll be, still running ‘round on the flesh rampage.

“Hey!” Fliss greeted Bonnie as she walked over to where the woman was supervising the after school club.

“Hiya!” Bonnie smiled “You heard from Frank today?”

“Yeah, before.” Fliss smiled, before she looked and Bonnie “I gotta say, that video of Simon…”

“He’s an idiot.” Bonnie shook her head “Punching his own reflection…I mean…”

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s probably the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages.” Fliss giggled and Bonnie snorted, shaking her head again. At that point Mary came running over, her cheeks pink

“Hey Lissy.” “Hey sweetheart, you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I got a surprise for you!”

“Me?”

“Yup!”

“Where is it?”

“We gotta go pick it up.”

“Oh, ok…bye Miss Stevenson!”

“See you Mary!” Bonnie smiled as she started to head off to Fliss’ car “Hey, give me a call…we can do lunch Sunday before the boys get back.”

“Sure.” Fliss nodded. “I’ll text you.”

With a final goodbye she headed after Mary and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Where’s Thor?” Mary asked.

“He’s at Mum and Dad’s with Rupert and Fred.” she said, “I thought after our surprise we could stay there for the weekend, use the pool and the Cinema Room…”

“Ok…” Mary looked at her suspiciously.

“I promise you’re gonna like it!”

“Just tell me.” Mary looked at her as Fliss set off driving.

“Sure you wanna know?”

“You’re as bad as Frank.” The girl rolled her eyes and Fliss laughed.

“We’re going to pick Steve up from the airport.”

Mary’s face split into a huge grin, it was a well-known fact that besides Bill, Fliss’ brother was basically her favourite person that wasn’t Frank on the planet.

“Uncle Steeby is coming to stay?” she looked at Fliss.

“Yup for a whole month. He has some work in Orlando and Tampa so he’s gonna be staying in town for a while, and then in Easter Sian and the twins are flying over.”

“Oh man!” Mary grinned, laying her head back on the seat “This is great!”

Mary’s excitement seemed to increase the nearer they got to the Airport, and Fliss had to practically hold her down in the seat as she parked the car, telling her to wait a second. Once she’d managed to park they headed into the arrivals lounge and little after 15 minutes later her brother appeared, towing his suitcase behind him.

“Hey Stack!” he grinned as Mary flung herself at him and he swept her up in a hug “How’s it hanging?” “Same old, same old!” she grinned and he let out a laugh before he placed her down and turned to Fliss.

“Oh my God!” he smiled as Fliss walked over to him “Look at you!”

She laughed “I know…” with a nod she looked down “Nothing until 16 weeks and then wham…now I feel like it’s getting bigger every day.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her the usual bear hug before the three of them headed out to the car. On the way back to the house, Steve filled Fliss in on what exactly he was doing. The construction company he owned was in the running for a very big job in Orlando building a complete village of holiday villas not far from Lake Buena Vista. As such he was out here to meet a few people and attend the Bidders Conference, whilst also taking a look at some potential office buildings in Lakeland.

“If we win this tender Fliss, it’s going to be huge.” he smiled at her “We’re talking millions.”

“That’s great.” she smiled “You’ve really blown it up since Dad handed over the reins, I’m really pleased for you!”

“I got lucky.”

“No, it was hard work.” Fliss glanced at him.

“Frank says you make your own luck.” Mary added.

“See!” Fliss grinned at her brother. “So, would you guys move out here or…”

“I’m tempted.” he said, “As with anything, I’ll need a project team who can oversee the local suppliers and labour that type of thing, manage the schedules and what not…but our head offices will still be in Liverpool, so I’m undecided. Either way I’ll be spending a lot more time here, certainly in the first 12 months whilst it all gets up and running.”

“How does Sian feel about it?”

“She’s excited. She knows what it means to me, to the business. Obviously she realises it means more time apart as I’ll be out here quite often but…”

“Is it selfish of me to be happy about that?” Fliss smiled and Steve laughed.

“Nope, because we all know I’m the best big brother in the world.”

Fliss grinned and shook her head as Mary began to enthusiastically talk to Steve about school and University and the Girl Scout group she was in. Fliss interjected whenever she needed to but other than that she was happy to let the two of them chat away.

Once home Steve headed over to the Annex where he would be staying whilst Mary went outside to play with the dogs, Fred happy to oversee things from his spot on a chair on the large decking platform which-over looked the pool area. Steve appeared an hour or so later having showered and changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, Fliss grinning at him, calling him a tourist. Whilst it wasn’t cold by cold standards, she found it chillier having grown used to the blazing heat of the summer. Steve, who had come from the chilly early spring in England, simply rolled his eyes and handed her the box he had in his hand.

“It’s a present from me and Sian.” he smiled.

Fliss glanced down and smiled at the selection box of Pukka Tea bags.

“Steeby this is great!” she beamed “I’ve been struggling to find them out here since Sian recommended them.”

She gently opened the box and glanced at the various herbal teas. There were 12 different flavours such as Peppermint and Liquorice, Ginger and Manuka Honey, Chamomile and Rose to name but a few. There was even a handwritten note inside from Sian, explaining which ones had helped her with various symptoms she felt during her pregnancy. She closed the purple and gold box and looked up at Steve, tears in her eyes.

“Hey, come on Titch!” he laughed as she fell into his arms, chuckling herself at her ridiculous tears “It’s just tea bags.” “It’s really thoughtful, thank you.” she stepped back, wiping her eyes “Fucking hormones.” Steve chuckled, rubbing her back slightly before she turned and began pulling the rest of the stuff out for dinner.

“Wanna help?” she asked.

“You really want me to?” He smirked “I’ve still not forgot the time we made brownies and set fire to the curtains at the Farm house.” “Ok, first off those curtains were rank, as Mum said when Dad came home and hit the roof, second off, they were pot brownies and we were already stoned after smoking a load! Cooking and being high do not mix.”

Steve laughed “God, poor Mum didn’t know what to do. Came home, found us both on the floor eating them, with burnt curtains hanging at the window.” “She knew we were stoned, she told me.” Fliss grinned, handing Steve a knife “Said she lied to dad that it had been her to get us off the hook.” “Well that didn’t work because Dad told me he knew full well it was us. He made me pay for the new curtains and told me that if I ever let you smoke that stuff again he was going to beat me within an inch of my life.” Fliss laughed “He was so full of shit, he never raised a hand to either of us. Never would either.” “No, but the threat was there. Even if I was 22 at the time, scared the shit out of me.”

“Thankfully we both grew up since then, huh?” Fliss shrugged, as she grabbed a chopping board to start carving up the meat for the tacos.

“Hmmm, debatable.” Steve nudged her. “Although I can safely say I haven’t done weed since the twins were born…as tempting as it was at times.”

“I can’t remember the last time I did.” Fliss mused “Was certainly before I moved to Boston.” “Frankie boy not dabble every now and then?”

“Nope.” Fliss said “He doesn’t smoke and says the last time he did pot it made him pull a whitey so he steers clear. Hardest thing he does now is Bourbon.” “Huh…” Steve mused “I had him pegged as a bit of wild one…” “He’s not.” Fliss shook her head “I mean he cuts loose when we go out, and I dread to think about the states he’s gonna be in this weekend but…” she shrugged “He’s well adjusted, sensible, level headed…can be a bit of a child at times but, show me a man who isn’t?” Steve shot her a look and she chuckled.

“So, how is he?” Steve asked. “Seems like ages since I spoke to him.” “He’s good.” Fliss smiled “His work is going well. He’s really excited about the baby.” her hand dropped to her bump. “We’re gonna start looking for houses now our landlord had said he won’t hold us to our contract. Frankie wants to move as soon as we can so he can get a nursery ready but I’m not bothered. Not like we’ll need the extra space really until a few months after it’s born.”

“You’d be surprised.” Steve raised an eyebrow “Babies accumulate a lot of stuff…” “Well, we’ll manage either way.” Fliss shrugged “Most important thing is they’re safe and happy. We can figure the rest out as we go.” “You gonna buy or…” “Hopefully.” Fliss nodded “With work and stuff now we shouldn’t have a problem borrowing now but, I don’t know, we’re going to look into it properly once Jake’s wedding is out of the way in a few weeks.”

Steve nodded and took a deep breath “You know, I wasn’t sure about you two at first, not because I didn’t like Frank, I did, I mean I do but, well, I just thought after Dickhead that you needed time to heal and find yourself again.” Fliss looked at him as he chewed the inside of his lip before he turned to her. “But then when I saw you again after your first Christmas together and then over the Easter…I dunno, you just…”

Fliss smiled and looked down, shrugging “I might have healed in a lot of ways before I met Frank but I was still broken Steeb. Finding my way in a new relationship was hard work, it was daunting…I constantly found myself automatically doing things I did with or for John…like you know the first time Frank ever stayed over, in the morning I just got up and was about to make him coffee and he was so puzzled by it.” she shrugged “that could have been so awkward but Frank…well, he didn’t let it feel that way. Simply told me to stay the fuck in bed.” “Don’t wanna know.” Steve pulled a face and Fliss laughed.

“Joking aside, I know it used to bother him because it was almost like on a subconscious level I was comparing the two of them but he never once lost his temper, not really anyway, other than to tell me to stop putting him on a pedestal for being fucking normal…his words, not mine.” she said, framing them in quotation marks with her fingers. “He just gets it. He gets me.” “You finished with the sales pitch?” Steve asked her and she narrowed her eyes at him as he laughed “You don’t need to convince me Titch, I like the guy, I just wasn’t sure you were in the right place but it's obvious he helped you get there.” Fliss smiled.

“And Mum and Dad worship the ground he walks on.” Steve shrugged “Like seriously…”

“Awww you jealous?” Fliss teased and Steve turned, pointing the small knife he was holding at her.

“Behave.” he smirked and Fliss laughed.

“I know what you mean though…whenever we argue they’re both like ‘you need to stop being so hard on him, Lissy’.” She snorted.

“Well, to be fair, you are a little bit…” Steve shrugged “Oh, I dunno, a bit of a pain in the ass at times.” “Fuck you.” she sniggered, as Steve chuckled and once again looked down at her.

“I’m glad you found him. You deserve to be happy.” Fliss smiled, and let her brother give her another hug before she instructed him to get on with his allocated job of dicing onions if they wanted any chance of eating this side of summer. Between the two of them, they had dinner ready in half an hour and the three of them ate inside at the large kitchen table. It wasn’t long after they finished that Frank Face timed. After a conversation with Mary, instructing her once more to behave, she handed the phone to Fliss who smiled at her man and excused herself for a little while so she could go talk to him in private. He told her they were off to play poker, promised he wouldn’t gamble Bean and Mary’s inheritance away, before he apologetically said he needed to go and promised he would message her later, despite her insistence that he didn’t need to keep checking in.

The siblings and Mary, plus animals migrated to the lounge of the villa as Steve yawned, desperately trying to keep himself awake as long as possible to counteract the time difference between Florida and their home in the North West of England. He ended up helping himself to a healthy shot of Bill’s 12 year old Single Malt as Fliss had an apple juice mixed with lemonade, the 2 of them on the couch, the foot stools of the recliners in front of them whilst Mary led on the rug, playing on her computer.

At one point she let out a snigger, and Fliss looked at her suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Frank before told me to stop doing maths and do something else…so I’m googling.” she shrugged.

“Googling what?”

“Random pregnancy facts…did you know the longest pregnancy ever recorded was 375 days?”

“What?” Fliss spluttered “That’s over a year!”

Mary grinned “and the shortest was 21 weeks and four days…both babies survived.”

Steve looked at Fliss, chuckling to himself as he took a drink of his scotch.

“Woah, your heart grows bigger too…” Mary said, “and your blood volume increases by 40-50%. That’s pretty cool.”

“No wonder you get fat…” Steve mused and Fliss picked up a cushion, hitting him in the face with it.

“And your voice can change!” Mary looked up at Fliss “Says here that it can get lower…” she studied her for a second before she nodded “Talk to me…” “What do you want me to say?” Fliss asked, dropping her voice deliberately and Mary shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You’re doing a Frank…” she sing songed.

“Doing a Frank?” Steve looked at his sister.

“Code for being an idiot.” Fliss smiled.

“You’re 18 weeks right?” Mary continued.

“Yeah”

“It says here that’s the time the baby can hear sounds…but it gets more responsive at 25-26 weeks…” she paused “Have you felt Bean move yet?”

“No.” Fliss shook her head, “but apparently for your first baby it’s not uncommon for you not to feel it until after 20 weeks.”

“Huh, they call it quickening…” Mary mused then she grinned “I can’t wait to feel it kicking you.”

“Gee thanks Stack…” Fliss looked at her as Steve let out a loud laugh

“I bloody love this kid!” he grinned and Mary smiled back.

*****

Saturday flew by. Fliss had lessons all day at the yard, Mary hanging around to help Joanne with various tasks before she herself got to ride Monty. She was now fully walking, trotting and cantering off the line competently, so when she asked Fliss if they could try a little jump, seeing as Frank wasn’t there to shit himself Fliss agreed.

Joanna set the cross poles up, leaving the jump at less than half a foot high, but it was enough for what they wanted to do.

“Ok…so…” Fliss said, nudging the ground pole with her foot. “We’re going to just trot him at this for the time being, so when he steps over this pole you have a count of one before he is going to take off. So you need to stand up… and fold forward slightly, giving him the reins. Show me.” Mary obediently stood up, and Fliss moved to help her adjust her legs so they didn’t fling too far back.

“Ok, good…” Fliss nodded. “Joanna’s gonna lead you over the first few times ok, and if you feel like you’re losing your balance then grab hold of this bit at the bottom of his mane. It won’t hurt him, I promise.” “OK, I’m ready…” Mary nodded.

“Alright…” Fliss said, stepping back. Joanna led Monty away, before they picked up trot and ran at the small jump.

“Get ready to fold!” Fliss instructed Mary, as she approached the pole. Doing exactly as she was told Mary leaned forward as Monty took off from the ground and landed perfectly after the jump. Mary sat back up and looked over her shoulder at the jump then to Fliss who gave her the thumbs up.

“Woah, did you see that?” Mary grinned, and Fliss nodded.

“Sure did!” she laughed. “Go again?”

Mary nodded eagerly and Joanna laughed. “Well done kiddo!”

They repeated this 5 or 6 times more before Fliss asked Mary if she wanted to try on her own. Never one to back down she nodded so Joanne unclipped the line and Mary trotted Monty around in a circle before she came at the jump.

“Ok, sit up and look straight between his ears at where you’re going.” Fliss said “Don’t look down…” Mary approached the jump and Fliss held her breath, but needn’t have bothered. Monty, ever the pro took Mary over the poles easily and stopped a few strides at the other side, Mary letting out an excited yell.

“I did it!”

Fliss gave her a huge smile.

“Can we film it and send it to Frank?”

“Damned straight we can!” Fliss grinned, “Do it again.”

She pulled her phone out, filmed Mary once again jumping and then turned her phone off, slipping into her pocket as Mary rode Monty back over.

“That was amazing!” the little girl was beaming ear to ear.

Fliss nodded “Yeah, it was. You did really well Stack. You wanna walk him off now then and we can feed and go home?” Mary nodded as she turned Monty away to let him walk around the outside of the paddock. With a smile she grabbed her phone and sent the footage to Frank. He replied a few minutes later with a load of wide mouthed emojis accompanied by the words “Jesus Christ, what did I say about keeping all 4 legs on the ground?”

“Oh hush Sailor!” she replied “She loved it. Now don’t forget I want a photo of you and Greg in those suits before you go out.” “Yes ma’am…now by my watch it must be nearly 6pm there. Take Mary and Bean home and get some rest.”

Rolling her eyes she responded about him being bossy to which he replied he was entitled to be as she was carrying his kid. A few more jokey messages were shared before Fliss promised to go home and Frank said he would talk to her later.

They grabbed a pizza on the way back and once more joined Steve for dinner, the 3 of them sitting in Bill’s large cinema room later watching Avengers-Age of Ultron. Before it had finished Fliss fell asleep, to be woken by Steve at the end of the film, Mary laughing at her as she groaned and stretched out.

“Sorry!” she grinned and Steve snorted.

“She falls asleep all the time.” Mary laughed “Frank said the baby is like a parasite, sucking all her energy.”

“A parasite?” Fliss snorted indignantly, her hand falling to her bump “You hear that Bean, that’s your dad saying that. Rude…”

“He isn’t wrong though.” Steve laughed. “Sian used to refer to our two as the bloodsuckers.” Shaking her head Fliss stood up and looked at Mary, “Bed, come on. You’re out with Roberta tomorrow.” “Anywhere nice?” Steve asked Mary.

“Just to the beach.” came the reply. “I haven’t seen her in a while so we’re gonna go watch the surfing competition. Roberta likes the shorts the men wear.”

“Sure she does.” Steve smirked, laughing.

“Some of them are brighter than Frank’s shirts.” Mary mused, causing Steve to laugh harder.

They bid him goodnight, getting ready for bed before Fliss tucked Mary in and went to the spare room. She fell asleep not long after but was woken early Sunday morning with a desperate need to pee. Once sorted she text her phone to find a very drunk text from Frank, declaring he loved her and couldn’t wait for Bean to arrive and for them to get married. She shook her head, glancing at the time, it was almost 4 am meaning it was 1am in Vegas. Smiling as she replied half asleep herself, telling him to maybe think about drinking water instead of any more alcohol, she turned over and closed her eyes.

***** Frank sat dumbfounded, his entire body rigid as the person next to him in the bed let out a sigh, and then a deep groan before a head emerged from under the covers.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frank exhaled and let out a groan as Simon looked at him “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, technically this is my room, jerk.” Simon said, blinking “What year is it?

“You scared the shit out of me.” Frank took a deep breath “I thought…”

“You thought you left with the blonde?” Simon peeked up at him “Nah, man. Mind you, wasn’t for her lack of trying. She was all over you. Eventually you told her to fuck off. You were quite rude actually.” Frank let out a sigh, his head falling back against the head board.

Simon sighed turning over, before he peered under the covers. “For the love of- Frank you’re naked.” “I’m aware of that.” Frank groaned.

“Fucking hell…” Simon grimaced, before he rolled out of bed “I’m going for a pee. Put some clothes on.”

Once Simon was in the bathroom he climbed out of bed, his head still spinning as he found his clothes in a pile on the floor. Shoving on his boxers and shirt he looked around the room to see an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and a pizza box on the table.

“Where the hell did we go?” He asked Simon as he walked back into the room. “Don’t ask me.” Simon looked at him, falling face down on the bed. “I know we took Greg back to your room…”

“We did?”

“Yeah he was wasted.” Simon nodded, rolling over as Frank flopped back on the bed. “He could hardly walk so the bouncers asked us to take him out of the club. We threw him in your room then…we must have gone back out…hang on…”

With a herculean effort, Simon pushed himself up and found his phone. After a brief scan his eyes widened and he snorted.

“Look.”

He turned the phone round to Frank, who saw a selfie of him and Simon in front of a face down Greg in the hotel room. Simon then began to flick through.

“Oh, ok so we went to a liquor store…” he turned the phone round to show Frank a blurry photo of a shop front “Don’t ask me why I took that and oh my god!”

“What?” Simon pressed play and a load of cheering and singing hit their ears as they watched footage of a small man dressed as a leprechaun dancing in the hotel foyer, Frank on his knees in front of him, laughing.

“I literally have no memory of that…at all.” Frank shook his head.

“Looks like we called Bonnie as well…” Simon snorted “If this angry text message that I got at 3 am is anything to go by.”

“Oh fuck.” Frank hastily reached for his phone, which really didn’t have a lot of battery left, and he hastily scanned his calls. There were none to Fliss, but he had sent her a message. According to her reply she’d been up to use the toilet, so that was ok.

His phone illuminated then with two messages. One from Fliss asking him if he was hungover, as he deserved to be, and another from Greg asking him where the fuck he was. Deciding to reply to Greg first, as he could picture the man stressing he tapped out a quick reply informing him not to worry, he’d be back at the room as soon as he’d managed to dress himself, which at the moment thanks to his head was proving a little difficult, before he replied to Fliss saying he was indeed hungover and he needed to crawl into a hole and die and as ever, reminded her he loved her.

No sooner had he sent it, she was calling him.

“That was quick…” he mumbled, before answering it. “Hey, honey…” “So, wanna tell me exactly where and what you were doing that requires you to get dressed before you go back to your room?” Her voice was steely.

Shit. He had sent the messages to the wrong people.

“Lissy, it’s not what you think.” He instantly began.

“Oh, you have no IDEA what I’m thinking!” her voice grew louder

“No, listen…I’m with Simon.” He chuckled.

“You think this is funny?” She sniffed and Frank grimaced.

“Baby, stop.” He sighed “Look, we ended up back at his room and I passed out here. That message was meant for Greg as he was asking me where I was. Instead he now has a message saying I’m hungover to fuck and that I love him.”

She was silent and he could hear her on the other end of the line rustling something before she spoke again in a quiet voice “So you weren’t with anyone else?”

“No, Sweetheart I wasn’t. Why would I want to be huh? Most beautiful girl in the world waiting for me at home.” At that Simon let out a retching noise “God you make me want to puke, Adler.” “Oh fuck off Si you dick.” He shot back.

“Hey, Fliss.” Simon leaned over to speak down the phone, grabbing Frank’s wrist to stop him moving it. “Now you, Bonnie and me have all seen Frank nekkid...”

“I swear to God I’m gonna punch you in a minute.” Frank mumbled, jerking his arm out of Simon’s reach and pushing him so hard he rolled over and fell off the side of the bed. Frank let out a laugh as Simon groaned and a hand appeared in the air, flipping him off.

“He knows about you and Bonnie?”

“Apparently so.” Frank mused

“So anything else you wanna tell me about what you got up to? Other than naked spooning Si?”

Frank laughed “We found a dancing leprechaun.”

“A dancing leprechaun?” “Yeah, in the hotel somewhere.”

“Standard.” she giggled “So, are you ready to come home now you’ve spent the last few days acting like overgrown frat boys?

“Yes, I’m more than ready to leave Aldrich Whitaker behind”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“My alter ego for last night. He’s a trust fund ass hole.” Frank grinned.

There was a pause before she replied, snorting “Whatever.”

At that point his phone gave him a bleep to tell him he was dangerously low on battery power. “Look, baby, my phones gonna die. I’ll call you when I get it charged ok?”

“Yeah, sure, hey Frankie, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.” She apologised softly.

“It’s okay, I’m not surprised after that message.”

“Yeah but still…” she paused “Can I blame the hormones?”

“If you want.”

“In that case it was totally them.”

He chucked “ Hormones or not, I love you.”

“Love you too sailor”

With that his phone cut off and he glanced down at it, the screen blank as the power had gone. He dropped it on the bed, before leaning back again, his hand against his forehead.

“I’m NEVER coming to Vegas again”

“Oh you not fancy it for your Batchelor party then? Simon teased as he threw Frank a bottle of water from the mini bar.”

“The fuck I do.” Frank shook his head.

*****

“I’d like to say I’m surprised but…” Bonnie shrugged as Fliss snorted, taking a drink of her apple juice from the carton as they walked back to their cars in the setting sun. They’d had dinner at one of the beach bars and stayed simply chatting for half an hour or so, but now Fliss was now ready to head home, shower and bunker down for the rest of the evening until Frank came home.

“I knew he’d end up paralytic.” Fliss said, watching as Mary wandered back towards them, huge ice cream in her hand. “Stack that’s bigger than your head.”

Mary shrugged, handing Fliss her change “It’s good though.” “Mint choc chip?”

“Yup.” she grinned, taking a huge lick. “When’s Frank back?”

“He lands into Tampa in about 4 hours.” Fliss looked at her “Why, you fed up of me already?”

“No, just thinking how peaceful it’s been without him annoying me.”

Fliss grinned and Bonnie gave a chuckle.

“Hey, did you tell Bonnie about you jumping Monty?” Fliss asked.

“Oh, no…” Mary turned to the woman, enthusiastically telling her all about it as Bonnie listened, Fliss walking alongside them, her hand rubbing her bump. She was just thinking about how nice a nap would be right then when Bonnie’s phone went.

“Sorry Mary.” She muttered, frowning at the number. “Hey, Lisa?” Fliss attention turned to Bonnie and she watched carefully as she spoke to Jake’s fiancé, her eyes flicked to her “No, no why…what’s…oh, ok…yeah…”

She cancelled the phone call and instantly tapped at the screen.

“Everything ok?” Fliss frowned.

“Yeah, I just need to check something.” she said. Fliss glanced at Mary who looked at her, shrugging.

“Here…” Fliss handed her the keys to the jeep “Go open the car…” “You know if you want me out of the way just ask.” Mary rolled her eyes.

“Ok I want you out of the way.” Fliss looked down at her. Mary snorted and took the keys, wandering off the 50 yards or so to the jeep. Fliss watched her climb in the back, the door staying open and her legs dangling out of the side. “Bonnie what is it?”

“Nothing…” Bonnie said, far too quickly as she looked up at Fliss. Fliss frowned.

“Bonnie…”

“Honestly, it’s nothing, just something Lisa told me about on facebook so…” Bonnie stuttered slightly so Fliss narrowed her eyes.

“Stop bullshitting.” Fliss said, holding her gaze “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Look, I’m sure it’s not what it seems…” Bonnie sighed, holding out her phone. At those words Fliss felt her heart sink as it could only mean one thing, and she took the phone with a tentative hand. She looked down at it and could see that it was a photo and from the logo in the bottom right hand corner it was from the official club page that the boys had been in on Saturday night.

It showed Jake, Greg, Simon, and a few others that Fliss didn’t recognise but that wasn’t what Bonnie had been referring to. What she had been talking about, as Fliss could clearly see was the background of the shot, which showed Frank with a blonde woman. Her arms were round his neck, his hand was resting on her lower back and their faces inches apart.

“Like I said, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation…” Bonnie said, but Fliss wasn’t listening. She was busy flicking through the other photos and then she came across another of Frank, the same girl perched on his knee.

She felt sick.

“Sure, perfectly innocent…” Fliss swallowed, handing the phone back to Bonnie, her voice sounding detached. Bonnie looked down at the snap now displayed on the screen and she took a deep breath.

“Look, Fliss, Frank loves you…he was probably just drunk and…” “Touching up some whore that’s sat on his lap.” Fliss shook her head “Save it Bonnie, I gotta go.” “Fliss…”

Fliss turned away from her, the tears stinging her eyes as she headed to the jeep. Taking a deep breath she wiped her eyes, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Are you ok?” Mary looked at her.

“Yeah, fine…just tired and hormonal.” Fliss shot her a smile.

“We can watch a film when we get back.” Mary suggested “Just chill out?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.” Fliss trying to quell the sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with Bean.

Had Frank really cheated on her? She would never in a million years thought he had it in him to be unfaithful, and she was desperate to believe Bonnie, that there was some perfectly innocent explanation for it all. And maybe, just maybe with the first one she could. It could have been taken at a bad moment, when they were just talking to one another, Frank being friendly…but then again why would they have their arms round one another. And as for the second one…the same girl was sat on his fucking lap with her arm looped round his shoulder.

And he looked perfectly comfortable with it. 

She rubbed her bump again and Mary looked at her. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine sweetheart.” she nodded, painting a smile on her face before turning the key in the ignition. “Let’s go home.”

******

Frank sighed as they all trudged through the arrivals lounge, rubbing his eyes. He was ready for a shower and collapse next to his girl, he felt like he had aged a decade over the last 3 days. The rest of them looked just as bad as they headed to the waiting car, Simon’s phone reminding Frank he needed to turn his on to.

“Oh, shit…” he heard Simon groan “No, that’s not…he didn’t…I swear…”

He glanced at Frank who stood still, watching and leaning on the door frame, his own phone in his hand as it started up.

“Yeah, ok…love you…see you soon.” Simon swallowed and cut the call looking at Frank.

“What is it?” Frank looked at him, a cold feeling washing over him “Has something happened to Lissy or Mary? Or the baby, please tell me no…” “No, nothing like that but you need to call Fliss.” he said, “Frank, there’s photos of you and that blonde chick on the club facebook page. Someone tagged me and Greg in them, Lisa saw them and Bonnie and…” “Photos of what?” Frank frowned “I didn’t do anything…” “There’s a photo that makes it look like you are…and one of her on your lap.” Simon said and Frank swallowed, his stomach churning.

“Oh fahk!”

“Just get in the car.” Greg looked at him from where he stood at the other side. “Call her on the way, we’ll back you up…it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine.” Jake assured him.

But it wasn’t fine, because no matter how much Frank tried, or how many messages he sent, Liss wasn’t picking up or replying and when he saw the photos, he could understand her being pissed. He would be if it was the other way round because they looked bad. The drive home seemed to take forever, and when the car finally rounded the corner onto Frank’s road they all offered to come in as well and help him explain, but he shook his head, knowing full well if he did that she would feel backed into a corner. No, this was his own dumbass fault. He’d face up to it and talk to her, make her understand how he’d told the girl to back off…she’d listen, she was reasonable.

The house was quiet when he entered and he walked through to the lounge where Fliss was sat on the sofa, her knees bent up beside her. She glanced over the back of the couch and he could see she had been crying, which made him feel like even more of bastard than he did already.

“Lissy, honey, I swear…” “You know, when I asked if there was anything you wanted to tell me, maybe I should have asked if there was something you should tell me” She sniffed, uncurling her legs and standing up and Thor’s ears pricked up from where he had been laying on the rug.

“Listen, those photos, they’re not…” He shook his head. “I told her to get lost, honestly I swear to you.”

He moved towards her, his hands dropping to her hips but she pushed him hard in the chest, stepping back.

“Don’t touch me. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“Sweetheart, I swear to God…”

“I don’t wanna hear it Frank.” she shook her head, walking past him. “Where are you going?” he asked, “Lissy, you can’t leave. Please, sweetheart…” “I’m going to bed, but let’s get one thing straight. The only reason I’m not screaming at you right now and storming out, slamming the door behind me is because of Mary.” she spoke calmly, too calmly for the anger which was radiating out of every inch of her body. She looked at Frank, her eyes watering as she shook her head, turning away. “You can take the couch.”

“Lissy…” “Frank…just stop.” Her voice cracked, and with that she left the room, Thor trotting behind, the bedroom door clicking behind her.

Frank stood, rooted to the spot, debating whether or not to follow her, before he decided not to. The last thing he wanted was to anger her that much she stormed out, or worse, she got so stressed something happened to the baby. No, she’d set the boundaries so he decided to respect them, and turned instead to the couch, sinking down onto the cushions his head in his hands.

She was angry, upset and she had the right to be and like he had said in the car, in her position he knew he would feel the same. She needed to sleep, calm down enough so that they could talk and he could explain, get her to listen to him. And then she’d see that it was a huge misunderstanding, even if she remained pissed at him for having the girl so close in the first place, which, ok, he shouldn’t have done but fuck…the thought of cheating hadn’t entered his mind, not once.

He swung his legs up, rubbing his face over his hands. She’d believe him. She had to, because if she didn’t, then had no idea what the fuck he was gonna do.

**** Chapter 4

[hollandroos]

Before I go - Part 2 | Peter x Stark!Reader

Read part 1 here

Summary: Tony Stark was always putting himself in harm’s way but one day things finally go too far. It’s a good thing Peter is there to hold you up back, right? Wrong.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Death, angst.

By three o’clock two days later, the entire world knew about the tragic passing of Tony Stark and you hated it. For some grieved the great futurist and man behind the Iron man mask who was a symbol of hope and determination, while some slacked off about everything he did wrong over the course of his time on Earth.

“Oh – Tony Stark? You mean the man that designed those explosives? It’s a good thing he’s gone.”

“He was an asshole to begin with. Glorified, put on a pedestal.”

“Maybe now Captain America will get the attention he deserves.”

While others went off about their hatred on breaking news sites, typing out their aggressive hatred in magazine articles and spitting comments on Instagram, you mourned your dad.

You mourned two am hugs down in the lab when neither of you could sleep – because Starks had the worst sleeping patterns. And you sobbed over endless take outs that resulted in bellyaches and his high blood pressure and you wept over the once everlasting feeling of safety and security that he provided. 

You wept and cried and sobbed until the rims of your eyes were raw and painfully, cherry red. You wailed until your voice was nothing more then a dull squeak and you hit smacked fists against Steves broad chest until Bruce thought you had to be sedated.

From there on out, you had felt hollow, like one of those Cadbury's Easter eggs that your father used to lay around the house on Easter for egg hunts. He did those up until the age of sixteen – they always ended with hot cross buns and scolding hot chocolates while Pepper told you both off for being up too early.

For the last two, compelling years you’d skipped that tradition and found the eggs waiting at the end of your bed, despite your protests that you were too old now. Your dad had demanded that you were never too old for chocolate and bit into his own, oreo centred chocolate bar.

“Ms Stark?” J.A.R.V.I.S’s voice rings through the walls, making you budge no more then an inch. “Ms Stark, you’ve been requested in the kitchen.” His voice that was once comforting now makes you long for the creator. The man you called home. “Captain Rogers has made your favourite meal.”

Captain Rogers. You screw your face up, feeling your cheeks stiffen due to sticky tears that’d dried against them from the night before. A shower was tempting - and you were itching to scrub the dirt and death from your body. But you didn’t want to scrub his touch from your skin just yet.

Captain Rogers was waiting for you in the kitchen. Pepper would be there too, ready to shoot you sympathetic looks and ask if you had spoken to Peter since the events that took place in outer space. She’d have to bite her tongue from asking if you were okay because she knew as well as the rest of the damn beings at the compound that you weren’t going to give a proper answer. Some snarky remark maybe, possibly a mere huff.

You’re just like your father, she always used to tell you. Just like him in every way but one.

You allowed yourself to be happy and found yourself adoring the little things. From the butterflies that’d float past your bedroom window to the warm set of arms (Peters) that’s loop around your waist at eight twenty three am when he arrived outside to take you to school. You let yourself be happy, but now you agreed that you were exactly like your father because he wasn’t happy. He was consumed by the past. Happiness wasn’t an option unless he was with you. His light.

Captain Rogers– Steve was waiting with a cold tea in one hand. Pepper was holding a coffee with two sugars. You want to know how they’re carrying on because you surely couldn’t. It wasn't necessarily that you couldn’t because if your father had taught you anything, it was that you could always keep moving forward. It was that you didn’t want to.

“Mr Rogers would like me to let you know that if you don’t get up and meet them in the kitchen then he will come to you.”

See, the AI got you there. Because you didn’t like having people in your room. Nat didn’t seem to get that memo because you’d find her sitting on the edge of your bed sometimes after school, waiting for a rundown of all the ‘tea.’ You’d thought that it was because Pepper wanted you to have more female friends around the compound before Bruce had told you that Nat was genuinely curious, and found herself wanting to know everything about your teenage life as she had missed out on her own.

But now, worse then ever, you didn’t want people coming into your room. Admittedly it didn’t smell the best and your discarded suit still lay in the corner with blood stains down the side. You didn’t know whose.

But you didn’t want to move the bag of chips that your dad had left sitting on your desk the day before the mission. Or touch his sweater that sat on the laundry pile – even now, you admit that you probably wouldn’t wash it for a while because it smelt like him still.

“I don’t want to go.” You murmur into the pillow. It’s not a second later that you wince – because your voice is so raw. Your throat was rough and simply felt like nails running down a chalkboard.

“Ms Stark, you haven’t eaten since you arrived home and your vitals tell me that you’re dehydrated.”

“You scanned me?” You ask, already suspecting the answer.

“Ms Potts asked me too.”

You want to mutter a small “Of course she did.” and combine it with a role of your eyes but all you can do it force your legs over the side of the bed, shoving the sheets away and push yourself up. The cold air hits your bare legs with such an effort you nearly give in to the goosebumps rising on your calves and the ache in your chest and bury yourself under the comforter again.

But all you can do is take the blue sweatshirt from the end of your bed and bring it over your head, sucking the warmth straight from the cotton that still smelt like school – like the shitty cafeteria lunches and Peter Parker's cologne from the time the two of you sat at the bleachers instead of going to math.

School was the last thing on your mind.

Right next to Peter Parker. And maybe you would’ve felt bad if there wasn’t a weight the size of the galaxy weighing on your chest like an anchor.

Peter who was sitting at his desk tapping his pen against the wood obnoxiously only two hours ago, counting down the minutes until it’d be socially acceptable for him to go for another walk because he’d only just been for one fifteen minutes ago and he didn’t want the neighbours to think he was weird.

He had gone on approximately fourteen walks in the last two days, because although his thoughts went wherever he went when he was outside they were drowned out by the cool, winter weather knocking against chilly pink cheeks and popsicle like noses. He dodged the newsstands that made a profit off of spreading false stories about how the man – the hero had passed and didn’t say hello to the little old lady that sold the most delicious hot dogs he’d tried in his life.

And when he regretfully made it home for the time being? Peter checked that this phone was still fully charged, never allowing it to slip past 90% in case you called. Then he’d ignore the fact that his suit was tucked away in his drawers but one sleeve was hanging out with the web shooters still attached. Taunting him. Reminding him.

For two whole days, he hadn’t received a single message or call from you and the ‘Read at 4:58’ sign from two days ago haunted him. He wanted to know that you were okay – needed to know that you had Steve and Pepper and Nat and him.

Viciously, he’d count the bruises that lined his rib cage. He’d press against the ones on his thighs and grit his teeth. Peter Parker knew pain like he knew the back of his hand and unfortunately, he had begun to welcome it. 

-

You faced the Avengers that had waited around, ignoring the searing pain in your chest that turned bitter when their eyes turned sympathetic. Surely it was due to the horrific bags beneath your eyes or the tremble of your hands. Maybe it was in the sweatshirt that you only pulled out when you had nothing else to wear or the blue and purple that highlighted the area around your eye. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to come out of your room,” Steve says, straightening up against the kitchen counter as you step in. It’s one of the rare times where he’s not wearing the red and blue suit with the shield pressed tightly against his chest. Not many saw cap like this – dressed in a fitting grey sweater and loose sweats.

You recoil at the sight of food. “You should know by now cap, I always exceed your expectations.” Picking up the plate, you assess the food before putting it down – your stomach was doing flips. “Thanks for the food but I don’t want it.”

“You need to have something.” Pepper sighs. It’s then that you realise she had been staring at you since you walked in, ocean blue eyes boring holes into you. While Steve looked comfied up, she looked her usual self. You wondered if the women had even shed a tear.

Unknown to you, she had shed bucketloads.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue your act. “I don’t feel like anything.”

This was all a performance, a game, even. An attempt to fool them all into thinking that you were holding up a little better then you were. Like you weren’t seconds away from collapsing on the kitchen floor.

“Your dad would want you to–”

Something in you snaps and with an aching throat and burning eyes, you grimace. “My dad’s dead.”

Silence envelops the room, wrapping you all in her sickening grasp and for a moment you debate bolting back to your room and locking the doors. Running away had been the best option lately – but before you can go through with your plan, Steve coughs.

“Have you spoken to Peter? He’s called me six times today asking about you.”

You want to cackle imagining Steve trying to use his phone. He often fumbled with the buttons and still didn't understand emojis. But with rage fueling your every action you huff.

“Six times? It’s only one.”

“It’s five.” He tells you – pity evident. You hate pity. Your dad despised it too.

“I’ll call him later.” It’s an empty promise. Steve realises it, Pepper realises it and you’re glad Nat isn’t there because she’d be the one to call you out on it. “Thanks for the food but I don’t want it.”

Neither of them try to stop you as you walk out, ignoring the missing skip in your step and the lack of enthusiasm in your voice but neither could blame you for the pain that manages to seep through every word. 

And on your way out, you count every step until you get back to your room. You take the stairway instead of the elevator and lose count at one hundred and seven.

Let me know if you enjoyed it!

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[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On Ch3: What Happens In Vegas...

Summary: We catch up with what Fliss got up to whilst Frank was living it up in Vegas, before they both face up to the events of the weekend, because this time what happened in Vegas certainly doesn’t stay there…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Imma still running from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and I won’t be stopping at the end of this either…As always, thanks to my unofficial beta @icanfeelastormbrewing​ for the usual inputs and opinions. J Chapter Song: Trouble Loves Me by Morrissey

Series Materlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

Just when it seems like everything’s evened out, and the balance seems serene, see the fool I’ll be, still running ‘round on the flesh rampage

“Hey!” Fliss greeted Bonnie as she walked over to where the woman was supervising the after school club.

“Hiya!” Bonnie smiled “You heard from Frank today?”

“Yeah, before.” Fliss smiled, before she looked and Bonnie “I gotta say, that video of Simon…”

“He’s an idiot.” Bonnie shook her head “Punching his own reflection…I mean…”

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s probably the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages.” Fliss giggled and Bonnie snorted, shaking her head again. At that point Mary came running over, her cheeks pink

“Hey Lissy.” “Hey sweetheart, you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I got a surprise for you!”

“Me?”

“Yup!”

“Where is it?”

“We gotta go pick it up.”

“Oh, ok…bye Miss Stevenson!”

“See you Mary!” Bonnie smiled as she started to head off to Fliss’ car “Hey, give me a call…we can do lunch Sunday before the boys get back.”

“Sure.” Fliss nodded. “I’ll text you.”

With a final goodbye she headed after Mary and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Where’s Thor?” Mary asked.

“He’s at Mum and Dad’s with Rupert and Fred.” she said, “I thought after our surprise we could stay there for the weekend, use the pool and the Cinema Room…”

“Ok…” Mary looked at her suspiciously.

“I promise you’re gonna like it!”

“Just tell me.” Mary looked at her as Fliss set off driving.

“Sure you wanna know?”

“You’re as bad as Frank.” The girl rolled her eyes and Fliss laughed.

“We’re going to pick Steve up from the airport.”

Mary’s face split into a huge grin, it was a well-known fact that besides Bill, Fliss’ brother was basically her favourite person that wasn’t Frank on the planet.

“Uncle Steeby is coming to stay?” she looked at Fliss.

“Yup for a whole month. He has some work in Orlando and Tampa so he’s gonna be staying in town for a while, and then in Easter Sian and the twins are flying over.”

“Oh man!” Mary grinned, laying her head back on the seat “This is great!”

Mary’s excitement seemed to increase the nearer they got to the Airport, and Fliss had to practically hold her down in the seat as she parked the car, telling her to wait a second. Once she’d managed to park they headed into the arrivals lounge and little after 15 minutes later her brother appeared, towing his suitcase behind him.

“Hey Stack!” he grinned as Mary flung herself at him and he swept her up in a hug “How’s it hanging?” “Same old, same old!” she grinned and he let out a laugh before he placed her down and turned to Fliss.

“Oh my God!” he smiled as Fliss walked over to him “Look at you!”

She laughed “I know…” with a nod she looked down “Nothing until 16 weeks and then wham…now I feel like it’s getting bigger every day.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her the usual bear hug before the three of them headed out to the car. On the way back to the house, Steve filled Fliss in on what exactly he was doing. The construction company he owned was in the running for a very big job in Orlando building a complete village of holiday villas not far from Lake Buena Vista. As such he was out here to meet a few people and attend the Bidders Conference, whilst also taking a look at some potential office buildings in Lakeland.

“If we win this tender Fliss, it’s going to be huge.” he smiled at her “We’re talking millions.”

“That’s great.” she smiled “You’ve really blown it up since Dad handed over the reins, I’m really pleased for you!”

“I got lucky.”

“No, it was hard work.” Fliss glanced at him.

“Frank says you make your own luck.” Mary added.

“See!” Fliss grinned at her brother. “So, would you guys move out here or…”

“I’m tempted.” he said, “As with anything, I’ll need a project team who can oversee the local suppliers and labour that type of thing, manage the schedules and what not…but our head offices will still be in Liverpool, so I’m undecided. Either way I’ll be spending a lot more time here, certainly in the first 12 months whilst it all gets up and running.”

“How does Sian feel about it?”

“She’s excited. She knows what it means to me, to the business. Obviously she realises it means more time apart as I’ll be out here quite often but…”

“Is it selfish of me to be happy about that?” Fliss smiled and Steve laughed.

“Nope, because we all know I’m the best big brother in the world.”

Fliss grinned and shook her head as Mary began to enthusiastically talk to Steve about school and University and the Girl Scout group she was in. Fliss interjected whenever she needed to but other than that she was happy to let the two of them chat away.

Once home Steve headed over to the Annex where he would be staying whilst Mary went outside to play with the dogs, Fred happy to oversee things from his spot on a chair on the large decking platform which-over looked the pool area. Steve appeared an hour or so later having showered and changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, Fliss grinning at him, calling him a tourist. Whilst it wasn’t cold by cold standards, she found it chillier having grown used to the blazing heat of the summer. Steve, who had come from the chilly early spring in England, simply rolled his eyes and handed her the box he had in his hand.

“It’s a present from me and Sian.” he smiled.

Fliss glanced down and smiled at the selection box of Pukka Tea bags.

“Steeby this is great!” she beamed “I’ve been struggling to find them out here since Sian recommended them.”

She gently opened the box and glanced at the various herbal teas. There were 12 different flavours such as Peppermint and Liquorice, Ginger and Manuka Honey, Chamomile and Rose to name but a few. There was even a handwritten note inside from Sian, explaining which ones had helped her with various symptoms she felt during her pregnancy. She closed the purple and gold box and looked up at Steve, tears in her eyes.

“Hey, come on Titch!” he laughed as she fell into his arms, chuckling herself at her ridiculous tears “It’s just tea bags.” “It’s really thoughtful, thank you.” she stepped back, wiping her eyes “Fucking hormones.” Steve chuckled, rubbing her back slightly before she turned and began pulling the rest of the stuff out for dinner.

“Wanna help?” she asked.

“You really want me to?” He smirked “I’ve still not forgot the time we made brownies and set fire to the curtains at the Farm house.” “Ok, first off those curtains were rank, as Mum said when Dad came home and hit the roof, second off, they were pot brownies and we were already stoned after smoking a load! Cooking and being high do not mix.”

Steve laughed “God, poor Mum didn’t know what to do. Came home, found us both on the floor eating them, with burnt curtains hanging at the window.” “She knew we were stoned, she told me.” Fliss grinned, handing Steve a knife “Said she lied to dad that it had been her to get us off the hook.” “Well that didn’t work because Dad told me he knew full well it was us. He made me pay for the new curtains and told me that if I ever let you smoke that stuff again he was going to beat me within an inch of my life.” Fliss laughed “He was so full of shit, he never raised a hand to either of us. Never would either.” “No, but the threat was there. Even if I was 22 at the time, scared the shit out of me.”

“Thankfully we both grew up since then, huh?” Fliss shrugged, as she grabbed a chopping board to start carving up the meat for the tacos.

“Hmmm, debatable.” Steve nudged her. “Although I can safely say I haven’t done weed since the twins were born…as tempting as it was at times.”

“I can’t remember the last time I did.” Fliss mused “Was certainly before I moved to Boston.” “Frankie boy not dabble every now and then?”

“Nope.” Fliss said “He doesn’t smoke and says the last time he did pot it made him pull a whitey so he steers clear. Hardest thing he does now is Bourbon.” “Huh…” Steve mused “I had him pegged as a bit of wild one…” “He’s not.” Fliss shook her head “I mean he cuts loose when we go out, and I dread to think about the states he’s gonna be in this weekend but…” she shrugged “He’s well adjusted, sensible, level headed…can be a bit of a child at times but, show me a man who isn’t?” Steve shot her a look and she chuckled.

“So, how is he?” Steve asked. “Seems like ages since I spoke to him.” “He’s good.” Fliss smiled “His work is going well. He’s really excited about the baby.” her hand dropped to her bump. “We’re gonna start looking for houses now our landlord had said he won’t hold us to our contract. Frankie wants to move as soon as we can so he can get a nursery ready but I’m not bothered. Not like we’ll need the extra space really until a few months after it’s born.”

“You’d be surprised.” Steve raised an eyebrow “Babies accumulate a lot of stuff…” “Well, we’ll manage either way.” Fliss shrugged “Most important thing is they’re safe and happy. We can figure the rest out as we go.” “You gonna buy or…” “Hopefully.” Fliss nodded “With work and stuff now we shouldn’t have a problem borrowing now but, I don’t know, we’re going to look into it properly once Jake’s wedding is out of the way in a few weeks.”

Steve nodded and took a deep breath “You know, I wasn’t sure about you two at first, not because I didn’t like Frank, I did, I mean I do but, well, I just thought after Dickhead that you needed time to heal and find yourself again.” Fliss looked at him as he chewed the inside of his lip before he turned to her. “But then when I saw you again after your first Christmas together and then over the Easter…I dunno, you just…”

Fliss smiled and looked down, shrugging “I might have healed in a lot of ways before I met Frank but I was still broken Steeb. Finding my way in a new relationship was hard work, it was daunting…I constantly found myself automatically doing things I did with or for John…like you know the first time Frank ever stayed over, in the morning I just got up and was about to make him coffee and he was so puzzled by it.” she shrugged “that could have been so awkward but Frank…well, he didn’t let it feel that way. Simply told me to stay the fuck in bed.” “Don’t wanna know.” Steve pulled a face and Fliss laughed.

“Joking aside, I know it used to bother him because it was almost like on a subconscious level I was comparing the two of them but he never once lost his temper, not really anyway, other than to tell me to stop putting him on a pedestal for being fucking normal…his words, not mine.” she said, framing them in quotation marks with her fingers. “He just gets it. He gets me.” “You finished with the sales pitch?” Steve asked her and she narrowed her eyes at him as he laughed “You don’t need to convince me Titch, I like the guy, I just wasn’t sure you were in the right place but it's obvious he helped you get there.” Fliss smiled.

“And Mum and Dad worship the ground he walks on.” Steve shrugged “Like seriously…”

“Awww you jealous?” Fliss teased and Steve turned, pointing the small knife he was holding at her.

“Behave.” he smirked and Fliss laughed.

“I know what you mean though…whenever we argue they’re both like ‘you need to stop being so hard on him, Lissy’.” She snorted.

“Well, to be fair, you are a little bit…” Steve shrugged “Oh, I dunno, a bit of a pain in the ass at times.” “Fuck you.” she sniggered, as Steve chuckled and once again looked down at her.

“I’m glad you found him. You deserve to be happy.” Fliss smiled, and let her brother give her another hug before she instructed him to get on with his allocated job of dicing onions if they wanted any chance of eating this side of summer. Between the two of them, they had dinner ready in half an hour and the three of them ate inside at the large kitchen table. It wasn’t long after they finished that Frank Face timed. After a conversation with Mary, instructing her once more to behave, she handed the phone to Fliss who smiled at her man and excused herself for a little while so she could go talk to him in private. He told her they were off to play poker, promised he wouldn’t gamble Bean and Mary’s inheritance away, before he apologetically said he needed to go and promised he would message her later, despite her insistence that he didn’t need to keep checking in.

The siblings and Mary, plus animals migrated to the lounge of the villa as Steve yawned, desperately trying to keep himself awake as long as possible to counteract the time difference between Florida and their home in the North West of England. He ended up helping himself to a healthy shot of Bill’s 12 year old Single Malt as Fliss had an apple juice mixed with lemonade, the 2 of them on the couch, the foot stools of the recliners in front of them whilst Mary led on the rug, playing on her computer.

At one point she let out a snigger, and Fliss looked at her suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Frank before told me to stop doing maths and do something else…so I’m googling.” she shrugged.

“Googling what?”

“Random pregnancy facts…did you know the longest pregnancy ever recorded was 375 days?”

“What?” Fliss spluttered “That’s over a year!”

Mary grinned “and the shortest was 21 weeks and four days…both babies survived.”

Steve looked at Fliss, chuckling to himself as he took a drink of his scotch.

“Woah, your heart grows bigger too…” Mary said, “and your blood volume increases by 40-50%. That’s pretty cool.”

“No wonder you get fat…” Steve mused and Fliss picked up a cushion, hitting him in the face with it.

“And your voice can change!” Mary looked up at Fliss “Says here that it can get lower…” she studied her for a second before she nodded “Talk to me…” “What do you want me to say?” Fliss asked, dropping her voice deliberately and Mary shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You’re doing a Frank…” she sing songed.

“Doing a Frank?” Steve looked at his sister.

“Code for being an idiot.” Fliss smiled.

“You’re 18 weeks right?” Mary continued.

“Yeah”

“It says here that’s the time the baby can hear sounds…but it gets more responsive at 25-26 weeks…” she paused “Have you felt Bean move yet?”

“No.” Fliss shook her head, “but apparently for your first baby it’s not uncommon for you not to feel it until after 20 weeks.”

“Huh, they call it quickening…” Mary mused then she grinned “I can’t wait to feel it kicking you.”

“Gee thanks Stack…” Fliss looked at her as Steve let out a loud laugh

“I bloody love this kid!” he grinned and Mary smiled back.

*****

Saturday flew by. Fliss had lessons all day at the yard, Mary hanging around to help Joanne with various tasks before she herself got to ride Monty. She was now fully walking, trotting and cantering off the line competently, so when she asked Fliss if they could try a little jump, seeing as Frank wasn’t there to shit himself Fliss agreed.

Joanna set the cross poles up, leaving the jump at less than half a foot high, but it was enough for what they wanted to do.

“Ok…so…” Fliss said, nudging the ground pole with her foot. “We’re going to just trot him at this for the time being, so when he steps over this pole you have a count of one before he is going to take off. So you need to stand up… and fold forward slightly, giving him the reins. Show me.” Mary obediently stood up, and Fliss moved to help her adjust her legs so they didn’t fling too far back.

“Ok, good…” Fliss nodded. “Joanna’s gonna lead you over the first few times ok, and if you feel like you’re losing your balance then grab hold of this bit at the bottom of his mane. It won’t hurt him, I promise.” “OK, I’m ready…” Mary nodded.

“Alright…” Fliss said, stepping back. Joanna led Monty away, before they picked up trot and ran at the small jump.

“Get ready to fold!” Fliss instructed Mary, as she approached the pole. Doing exactly as she was told Mary leaned forward as Monty took off from the ground and landed perfectly after the jump. Mary sat back up and looked over her shoulder at the jump then to Fliss who gave her the thumbs up.

“Woah, did you see that?” Mary grinned, and Fliss nodded.

“Sure did!” she laughed. “Go again?”

Mary nodded eagerly and Joanna laughed. “Well done kiddo!”

They repeated this 5 or 6 times more before Fliss asked Mary if she wanted to try on her own. Never one to back down she nodded so Joanne unclipped the line and Mary trotted Monty around in a circle before she came at the jump.

“Ok, sit up and look straight between his ears at where you’re going.” Fliss said “Don’t look down…” Mary approached the jump and Fliss held her breath, but needn’t have bothered. Monty, ever the pro took Mary over the poles easily and stopped a few strides at the other side, Mary letting out an excited yell.

“I did it!”

Fliss gave her a huge smile.

“Can we film it and send it to Frank?”

“Damned straight we can!” Fliss grinned, “Do it again.”

She pulled her phone out, filmed Mary once again jumping and then turned her phone off, slipping into her pocket as Mary rode Monty back over.

“That was amazing!” the little girl was beaming ear to ear.

Fliss nodded “Yeah, it was. You did really well Stack. You wanna walk him off now then and we can feed and go home?” Mary nodded as she turned Monty away to let him walk around the outside of the paddock. With a smile she grabbed her phone and sent the footage to Frank. He replied a few minutes later with a load of wide mouthed emojis accompanied by the words “Jesus Christ, what did I say about keeping all 4 legs on the ground?”

“Oh hush Sailor!” she replied “She loved it. Now don’t forget I want a photo of you and Greg in those suits before you go out.” “Yes ma’am…now by my watch it must be nearly 6pm there. Take Mary and Bean home and get some rest.”

Rolling her eyes she responded about him being bossy to which he replied he was entitled to be as she was carrying his kid. A few more jokey messages were shared before Fliss promised to go home and Frank said he would talk to her later.

They grabbed a pizza on the way back and once more joined Steve for dinner, the 3 of them sitting in Bill’s large cinema room later watching Avengers-Age of Ultron. Before it had finished Fliss fell asleep, to be woken by Steve at the end of the film, Mary laughing at her as she groaned and stretched out.

“Sorry!” she grinned and Steve snorted.

“She falls asleep all the time.” Mary laughed “Frank said the baby is like a parasite, sucking all her energy.”

“A parasite?” Fliss snorted indignantly, her hand falling to her bump “You hear that Bean, that’s your dad saying that. Rude…”

“He isn’t wrong though.” Steve laughed. “Sian used to refer to our two as the bloodsuckers.” Shaking her head Fliss stood up and looked at Mary, “Bed, come on. You’re out with Roberta tomorrow.” “Anywhere nice?” Steve asked Mary.

“Just to the beach.” came the reply. “I haven’t seen her in a while so we’re gonna go watch the surfing competition. Roberta likes the shorts the men wear.”

“Sure she does.” Steve smirked, laughing.

“Some of them are brighter than Frank’s shirts.” Mary mused, causing Steve to laugh harder.

They bid him goodnight, getting ready for bed before Fliss tucked Mary in and went to the spare room. She fell asleep not long after but was woken early Sunday morning with a desperate need to pee. Once sorted she text her phone to find a very drunk text from Frank, declaring he loved her and couldn’t wait for Bean to arrive and for them to get married. She shook her head, glancing at the time, it was almost 4 am meaning it was 1am in Vegas. Smiling as she replied half asleep herself, telling him to maybe think about drinking water instead of any more alcohol, she turned over and closed her eyes.

***** Frank sat dumbfounded, his entire body rigid as the person next to him in the bed let out a sigh, and then a deep groan before a head emerged from under the covers.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frank exhaled and let out a groan as Simon looked at him “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, technically this is my room, jerk.” Simon said, blinking “What year is it?

“You scared the shit out of me.” Frank took a deep breath “I thought…”

“You thought you left with the blonde?” Simon peeked up at him “Nah, man. Mind you, wasn’t for her lack of trying. She was all over you. Eventually you told her to fuck off. You were quite rude actually.” Frank let out a sigh, his head falling back against the head board.

Simon sighed turning over, before he peered under the covers. “For the love of- Frank you’re naked.” “I’m aware of that.” Frank groaned.

“Fucking hell…” Simon grimaced, before he rolled out of bed “I’m going for a pee. Put some clothes on.”

Once Simon was in the bathroom he climbed out of bed, his head still spinning as he found his clothes in a pile on the floor. Shoving on his boxers and shirt he looked around the room to see an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and a pizza box on the table.

“Where the hell did we go?” He asked Simon as he walked back into the room. “Don’t ask me.” Simon looked at him, falling face down on the bed. “I know we took Greg back to your room…”

“We did?”

“Yeah he was wasted.” Simon nodded, rolling over as Frank flopped back on the bed. “He could hardly walk so the bouncers asked us to take him out of the club. We threw him in your room then…we must have gone back out…hang on…”

With a herculean effort, Simon pushed himself up and found his phone. After a brief scan his eyes widened and he snorted.

“Look.”

He turned the phone round to Frank, who saw a selfie of him and Simon in front of a face down Greg in the hotel room. Simon then began to flick through.

“Oh, ok so we went to a liquor store…” he turned the phone round to show Frank a blurry photo of a shop front “Don’t ask me why I took that and oh my god!”

“What?” Simon pressed play and a load of cheering and singing hit their ears as they watched footage of a small man dressed as a leprechaun dancing in the hotel foyer, Frank on his knees in front of him, laughing.

“I literally have no memory of that…at all.” Frank shook his head.

“Looks like we called Bonnie as well…” Simon snorted “If this angry text message that I got at 3 am is anything to go by.”

“Oh fuck…” Frank hastily reached for his phone, which really didn’t have a lot of battery left, and he hastily scanned his calls. There were none to Fliss, but he had sent her a message. According to her reply she’d been up to use the toilet…so that was ok.

His phone illuminated then with 2 messages. One from Fliss asking him if he was hungover, as he deserved to be, and another from Greg asking him where the fuck he was. Deciding to reply to Greg first, as he could picture the man stressing he tapped out a quick reply informing him not to worry, he’d be back at the room as soon as he’d managed to dress himself, which at the moment thanks to his head was proving a little difficult, before he replied to Fliss saying he was indeed hungover and he needed to crawl into a hole and die and as ever, reminded her he loved her.

No sooner had he sent it, she was calling him.

“That was quick…” he mumbled, before answering it. “Hey honey…” “So, wanna tell me exactly where and what you were doing that requires you to get dressed before you go back to the room?” her voice was steely.

Shit. He had sent the messages to the wrong people.

“Lissy, it’s not what you think…” he instantly began.

“Oh, you have no IDEA what I’m thinking!” her voice grew louder

“No, listen…I’m with Simon…” he chuckled.

“You think this is funny?” she sniffed and Frank grimaced.

“Baby, stop.” he sighed “Look, we ended up back at his room and I passed out here. That message was meant for Greg as he was asking me where I was. Instead he now has a message saying I’m hungover to fuck and that I love him.”

She was silent and he could hear her on the other end of the line rustling something before she spoke again in a quiet voice “So you weren’t with anyone else?”

“No, Sweetheart I wasn’t. Why would I want to be huh? Most beautiful girl in the world waiting for me at home.” At that Simon let out a retching noise “God you make me want to puke Adler.” “Oh fuck off Si you dick.” he shot back.

“Hey Fliss…” Simon leaned over to speak down the phone, grabbing Frank’s wrist to stop him moving it. “Now you, Bonnie and me have all seen Frank nekkid...”

“I swear to God I’m gonna punch you in a minute…” Frank mumbled, jerking his arm out of Simon’s reach and pushing him so hard he rolled over and fell off the side of the bed. Frank let out a laugh as Simon groaned and a hand appeared in the air, flipping him off.

“He knows about you and Bonnie?”

“Apparently so.” Frank mused

Fliss snorted “So anything else you wanna tell me about what you got up to? Other than naked spooning Si?”

Frank laughed “We found a dancing leprechaun.”

“A dancing leprechaun?” “Yeah, in the hotel somewhere.”

“Standard.” she giggled “So, are you ready to come home now you’ve spent the last few days acting like overgrown frat boys?

“Yes, I’m more than ready to leave Aldrich Whitaker behind”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“My alter ego for last night. He’s a trust fund ass hole…” Frank grinned.

There was a pause before she replied, snorting “Whatever.”

At that point his phone gave him a bleep to tell him he was dangerously low on battery power. “Look, baby, my phones gonna die. I’ll call you when I get it charged ok?”

“Yeah, sure, hey Frankie…sorry I jumped to conclusions.” she said softly.

“It’s ok” he laughed “I’m not surprised after that message.”

“Yeah but still…” she paused “Can I blame the hormones?”

“If you want.”

“In that case it was totally them.”

He chucked “Ok. Anyway, hormones or not, I love you.”

“Love you too sailor”

With that his phone cut off and he glanced down at it, the screen blank as the power had gone. He dropped it on the bed, before leaning back again, his hand against his forehead.

“I’m NEVER coming to Vegas again”

“Oh you not fancy it for your Batchelor party then? Simon teased as he threw Frank a bottle of water from the mini bar.”

“The fuck I do.” Frank shook his head.

*****

“I’d like to say I’m surprised but…” Bonnie shrugged as Fliss snorted, taking a drink of her apple juice from the carton as they walked back to their cars in the setting sun. They’d had dinner at one of the beach bars and stayed simply chatting for half an hour or so, but now Fliss was now ready to head home, shower and bunker down for the rest of the evening until Frank came home.

“I knew he’d end up paralytic.” Fliss said, watching as Mary wandered back towards them, huge ice cream in her hand. “Ok, Stack that’s bigger than your head.”

Mary shrugged, handing Fliss her change “It’s good though.” “Mint choc chip?”

“Yup.” she grinned, taking a huge lick. “When’s Frank back?”

“He lands into Tampa in about 4 hours.” Fliss looked at her “Why, you fed up of me already?”

“No, just thinking how peaceful it’s been without him annoying me.”

Fliss grinned and Bonnie gave a chuckle.

“Hey, did you tell Bonnie about you jumping Monty?” Fliss asked.

“Oh, no…” Mary turned to the woman, enthusiastically telling her all about it as Bonnie listened, Fliss walking alongside them, her hand rubbing her bump. She was just thinking about how nice a nap would be right then when Bonnie’s phone went.

“Sorry Mary…” she said, frowning at the number. “Hey, Lisa?” Fliss attention turned to Bonnie and she watched carefully as she spoke to Jake’s fiancé, her eyes flicked to her “No, no why…what’s…oh, ok…yeah…”

She cancelled the phone call and instantly tapped at the screen.

“Everything ok?” Fliss frowned.

“Yeah, I just need to check something.” she said. Fliss glanced at Mary who looked at her, shrugging.

“Here…” Fliss handed her the keys to the jeep “Go open the car…” “You know if you want me out of the way just ask.” Mary rolled her eyes.

“Ok I want you out of the way.” Fliss looked down at her. Mary snorted and took the keys, wandering off the 50 yards or so to the jeep. Fliss watched her climb in the back, the door staying open and her legs dangling out of the side. “Bonnie what is it?”

“Nothing…” Bonnie said, far too quickly as she looked up at Fliss. Fliss frowned.

“Bonnie…”

“Honestly, it’s nothing, just something Lisa told me about on facebook so…” Bonnie stuttered slightly so Fliss narrowed her eyes.

“Stop bullshitting.” Fliss said, holding her gaze “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Look, I’m sure it’s not what it seems…” Bonnie sighed, holding out her phone. At those words Fliss felt her heart sink as it could only mean one thing, and she took the phone with a tentative hand. She looked down at it and could see that it was a photo and from the logo in the bottom right hand corner it was from the official club page that the boys had been in on Saturday night.

It showed Jake, Greg, Simon, and a few others that Fliss didn’t recognise but that wasn’t what Bonnie had been referring to. What she had been talking about, as Fliss could clearly see was the background of the shot, which showed Frank with a blonde woman. Her arms were round his neck, his hand was resting on her lower back and their faces inches apart.

“Like I said, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation…” Bonnie said, but Fliss wasn’t listening. She was busy flicking through the other photos and then she came across another of Frank, the same girl perched on his knee.

She felt sick.

“Sure, perfectly innocent…” Fliss swallowed, handing the phone back to Bonnie, her voice sounding detached. Bonnie looked down at the snap now displayed on the screen and she took a deep breath.

“Look, Fliss, Frank loves you…he was probably just drunk and…” “Touching up some whore that’s sat on his lap.” Fliss shook her head “Save it Bonnie, I gotta go.” “Fliss…”

Fliss turned away from her, the tears stinging her eyes as she headed to the jeep. Taking a deep breath she wiped her eyes, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Are you ok?” Mary looked at her.

“Yeah, fine…just tired and hormonal.” Fliss shot her a smile.

“We can watch a film when we get back.” Mary suggested “Just chill out?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.” Fliss trying to quell the sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with Bean.

Had Frank really cheated on her? She would never in a million years thought he had it in him to be unfaithful, and she was desperate to believe Bonnie, that there was some perfectly innocent explanation for it all. And maybe, just maybe with the first one she could. It could have been taken at a bad moment, when they were just talking to one another, Frank being friendly…but then again why would they have their arms round one another. And as for the second one…the same girl was sat on his fucking lap with her arm looped round his shoulder.

And he looked perfectly comfortable with it.

She rubbed her bump again and Mary looked at her. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine sweetheart.” she nodded, painting a smile on her face before turning the key in the ignition. “Let’s go home.”

******

Frank sighed as they all trudged through the arrivals lounge, rubbing his eyes. He was ready for a shower and collapse next to his girl, he felt like he had aged a decade over the last 3 days. The rest of them looked just as bad as they headed to the waiting car, Simon’s phone reminding Frank he needed to turn his on to.

“Oh, shit…” he heard Simon groan “No, that’s not…he didn’t…I swear…”

He glanced at Frank who stood still, watching and leaning on the door frame, his own phone in his hand as it started up.

“Yeah, ok…love you…see you soon.” Simon swallowed and cut the call looking at Frank.

“What is it?” Frank looked at him, a cold feeling washing over him “Has something happened to Lissy or Mary? Or the baby, please tell me no…” “No, nothing like that but you need to call Fliss.” he said, “Frank, there’s photos of you and that blonde chick on the club facebook page. Someone tagged me and Greg in them, Lisa saw them and Bonnie and…” “Photos of what?” Frank frowned “I didn’t do anything…” “There’s a photo that makes it look like you are…and one of her on your lap.” Simon said and Frank swallowed, his stomach churning.

“Oh fuck…”

“Just get in the car.” Greg said, looking at him from where he stood at the other side. “Call her on the way, we’ll back you up…it’s a misunderstanding…”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine…” Jake assured him.

But it wasn’t fine, because no matter how much he tried, or how many messages he sent her, she wasn’t picking up or replying and when he saw the photos, and had to admit…they looked pretty bad, he could understand her being pissed. He would be if it was the other way round. The drive home seemed to take forever, and when the car finally rounded the corner onto Frank’s road they all offered to come in as well and help him explain, but he shook his head, knowing full well if he did that she would feel backed into a corner. No, this was his own dumbass fault. He’d face up to it and talk to her, make her understand how he’d told the girl to back off…she’d listen, she was reasonable.

The house was quiet when he entered and he walked through to the lounge where Fliss was sat on the sofa, her knees bent up besides her. She glanced over the back of the couch and he could see she had been crying, which made him feel like even more of bastard than he did already.

“Lissy, honey, I swear…” “You know, when I asked if there was anything you wanted to tell me, maybe I should have asked if there was something you should be telling me” she said, uncurling her legs and standing up. Thor’s ears pricked up from where he had been laying on the rug.

“Listen, those photos…they’re not…” he shook his head “I told her to get lost, honestly I swear…”

He moved towards her, his hands dropping to her hips but she pushed him hard in the chest, stepping back.

“Don’t touch me...I don’t want you anywhere near me.” she said quietly

“Sweetheart, I swear to God…”

“I don’t wanna hear it Frank.” she sniffed walking past him. “Where are you going?” he asked, “Lissy, you can’t leave…please, sweetheart…” “I’m going to bed, but let’s get one thing straight. The only reason I’m not screaming at you right now and storming out, slamming the door behind me is because of Mary.” she spoke calmly, too calmly for the anger which was radiating out of every inch of her body. She looked at Frank, her eyes watering as she shook her head, turning away “You can take the couch.”

“Lissy…” “Frank…just…stop.” she said, her voice cracking, and with that she left the room, Thor trotting behind, the bedroom door clicking behind her.

Frank stood, rooted to the spot, debating whether or not to follow her, before he decided not to. The last thing he wanted was to anger her that much she stormed out, or worse, she got so stressed something happened to the baby. No, she’d set the boundaries so he decided to respect them, and turned instead to the couch, sinking down onto the cushions his head in his hands.

She was angry, upset and she had the right to be and like he had said in the car, in her position he knew he would feel the same. She needed to sleep, calm down enough so that they could talk and he could explain, get her to listen to him. And then she’d see that it was a huge misunderstanding, even if she remained pissed at him for having the girl so close in the first place, which, ok, he shouldn’t have done but fuck…the thought of cheating hadn’t entered his mind, not once.

He swung his legs up, rubbing his face over his hands. She’d believe him. She had to, because if she didn’t, he had no idea what the fuck he was gonna do.

[retrauxpunk]

Rain, I ask you: ALL the quarantine asks!

Animated character that was your gay awakening? not really an ‘awakening’ so much as a ‘hint’, but Azula from Avatar: the Last Airbender ... yep

Grilled cheese or PB&J? GRILLED CHEESE

What show/YouTube video(s) do you put on in the background when you when you don’t have anything to watch but you want something on? I don’t really experience this mood, but my go-to watch is the vlogbrothers YouTube channel

Your go-to bar order, if you drink? if it’s a low-key/work outing, lager or cider (esp the ones with non-apple fruits too); if it’s getting more serious (lol) or with closer friends or a more celebratory mood: vodka with sparkling apple juice

What’s your favorite pair of shoes that you own? these Doc Martens that are white with red hearts got ’em with my first ever full time design job paycheck. i did not take care of them well so they’re super scuffed/beat-up and very much not Perfectly White ... but they’re still comfy as heck, i still love the design, and they’ve lasted 3 years so far, let’s see how much longer we can make it ... also i think they’re a limited edition so i likely won’t get my hands on any replacements...

Top three cuisines? my cheap-ass answer would be, like: East Asian, South-East Asian, Western European ... but my non-shit answer is... Japanese, Chinese, Italian (ftr i’m not a seafood fan ... i just love the ramen and non-seafood stuff that japan makes hehe)

What was your first word as a child (that wasn’t a variation of “Mom” or “Dad”)? i have no clue

What’s a job that you’ve had that people might be surprised to find out you’ve had? cold-calling strangers to ask them to do market research phone surveys (y)

Look up. What’s directly across from you? the kitchen

Do you own any signed books/memorabilia in general? i have a messenger bag that i got signed by Jeph Jacques of the Questionable Content webcomic that i once adored ... and I think my boyfriend has gifted me a signed Matthew Reilly hardcover.

Preferred way to spend a rainy day? curled up indoors wearing something cosy, reading and eating something delicious. playing animal crossing lol. aaaaand listening to music, a good podcast, watching stand-up comedy, drawing, getting intoxicated...

What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted? occasionally the standard smoked salmon and cream cheese, but i slightly prefer the meat to be, like, prosciutto

Brunch or midnight snacks? ehh fuck it, both???? both!!

Favorite mug you own easter limited edition waitrose mug, squat and round and yellow, painted/shaped like a very round chick. a Borb,,,,

What coffee drink would you describe yourself as? i actually thought about this and, uh, peppermint mocha. not for everyone, slightly weird, never fitting in with the regulars/being a default, but???? obviously awesome?? also: about 65% on the mainstream/hipster scale

Pick a song lyric to describe your current mood (and drop the name and artist!) The Wombats is the artist. lyrics are either “Let's dance to Joy Division / and celebrate the irony / Everything is going wrong, / but we're so happy” from Let’s Dance to Joy Division or “the edge of nowhere’s such a beautiful place” from Emoticons

Fruity or herbal teas? herbal but i agree with @queenofslime, black tea is the best

What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless? ...do i experience embarrassment about what i like to watch on TV? i don’t know if i do, because i watch relatively few shows ... and have relatively little shame? maybe???

That book you were forced to read for class but actually ended up enjoying? ftr i wasn’t bitter about this before reading, i had no preconceived biases against, and i was pretty open to liking it -- The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

Do you match your socks? if they’re of a really nice design then yes always, if they’re of a more standard/generic design then ... not necessarily

Have you ever been horseback riding? yes a few times ... on the last time which was like five years ago ... the lady said i was a natural and asked if i’d ridden much before, which was. flattering. and yes this is a Brag.

What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc) didn’t have much of a hardcore phase but i was pretty much always into fantasy ... oh wait yeah i did! i had a spy phase :)

Have you ever been to jail? to closed-down ones, yep

What’s your opinion on Lazy Susan’s (the spinning tray in the middle of tables)? pretty great idea unequivocably, right?

Puzzles? i tend to enjoy riddles/lateral thinking puzzles, i am impartial about jigsaw puzzles. i enjoy escape rooms.

You can only have one juice for the rest of your life, what is it? apple ... but elderflower if i’m feeling reckless (y)

What section do you immediately head for when you walk into a bookstore? young adult ... or stationery

What’s one thing you’re trying to learn/relearn in your downtime right now? Russian language :( it’s going не так хорошо

Who’s your go-to musical artist when you’re feeling upbeat? not sure if i have a go-to artist so much as go-to playlists i’ve made but some good ones are The Wombats and Bastille 

Where could someone find you in a museum? mammals/birds in natural history

What’s that one outfit in your closet you never get the chance to wear but want to? i swear i was talking about this recently but i clean the fuck forgot what it was ... oh yeah, i have this short-sleeved black minidress festooned with silver buckles/buttons and also featuring decorative suspenders ... which, yes, does make me look like a sexy military officer,,, anyway it’s pretty badass and somehow it hasn’t occurred to me till now that i can just wear that every day now if i want? ftw i do get the chance to wear it, it’s just a little bit Extra so i get self-conscious. i’ve worn it a few times though. including to work. because fuck it, right? i didn’t become a graphic designer to be shy about sometimes looking like a prototypical emo/scene kid-turned-adult??? (ftr i was never an actual emo/scene kid. i lacked the requisite guts, commitment of feeling, and permissive parents.)

Rainbows, stars, or sunset colored clouds? sunset-coloured clouds :)

If you could own any non-traditional pet (dogs, cats, fish, rodents, etc), what would it be? how about a shapeshifting feathered dragon that could range from, like, two thirds of a foot long (20cm) to sit on your shoulder, to ... the size of a massive draft horse? (but longer and thinner)

Do you have more art on your walls or more photographs? photos, though if i didn’t live with a partner, it might be art

You have to get one meme tattooed on your body, what meme is it and where does it go? i’ve already got a meme tattooed on my body ... a private meme i have with my boyfriend, one on each leg (left: outer side, just above knee; right: outside, a few inches above the ankle)

Pick a superhero sidekick to hang out with ?????? is this a sidekick to a known superhero, or a superhero to act as your sidekick? also i don’t know? who are the standard heroes? i’m not up to date on this.

Lakes, rivers, or oceans? rivers or oceans

Favorite mid-2000s song i can’t decide a favourite, it’s too stressful, but one that i like is Rob Thomas’s Little Wonders

How do you dress when you’re home alone? either a t-shirt and PJ pants, or a dress (usually short-sleeved/sleeveless minidress)

Where do you sit in the living room (we all have a preferred spot, and you know it)? on either side of the couch haha

Knives or swords? BOTH but ok swords.

A song you didn’t think you’d enjoy but ended up loving hmmmmm like all of Linkin Park’s first three albums with some exceptions? hahahah

Pick an old-school Disney Channel Original Movie i don’t think i.....know any????

Are you a “Quote that relates to the photos” caption-er, an “explanation of where I took the photos” caption-er, or a no caption kinda person when you post pictures online? explanation, though on instagram quite often the photo and caption are unrelated

Name a classic Vine there’s only one thing worse than a rapist...

What’s the freezer food that you stock up on when you go to the grocery store? dumplings! as in the gyoza type.

How do you top your ice cream? that ‘magic’ chocolate sauce that hardens into chocolate. that stuff. i watched those ads all childhood long but my parents were immigrants and therefore very thrifty so we NEVER bought it iirc and then in my adulthood i got it a bunch of times. but now i live in the uk and can’t find it. and forgot it existed. and have never seen it anywhere.

Do you like Jello? the kind that’s served on a plate as a dessert? meh. the kind that are found in asian grocery stores as individual fruit-flavoured serves in little plastic cups? YES 

What’s something that you don’t have a picture of that you wish you did? future stock prices? LOL ... or i’m gonna go with @queenofslime‘s answer again -- how others see me. it’s a great answer.

How are you at climbing trees? not............ good. i mean, i like climbing, but i have absolutely terrible upper body strength. i did bouldering for a couple months but only stuck to the first like... three out of nine difficulty levels.

[purplesurveys]

720

WHO was the last person...

you spoke to, in person? It was my mom. She went down around 20 minutes ago to make a couple of sandwiches for herself and dad. The quarantine has made our body clocks completely bonkers and it’ll be typical to see either parent go downstairs at 12 or 1 in the morning to make a meal.

you called? I rang up Gab fiveish minutes ago so we can do a video call on Messenger.

that called you? My mom called me from downstairs the other day to reprimand me about something I said on Facebook cause she said it might offend some of my relatives lol.

you texted? I haven’t texted in a hot fuckin’ minute. I’ve only been at home in the last month, so there’s been little need to spend on load for my phone when I can communicate with classmates and family from online anyway.

that sent you a text? My dad. He texted me that breakfast was ready so that he didn’t need to go into my bedroom, which I’m highkey thankful for. My mom would just burst into the room, pull up my window shade so the sunlight can come in, and yell in a loud voice so I wake up. It’s never improved my mood in all the times she’s done it so I dunno why she continues doing it.

you kissed? Gab, but that was a month ago ugh.

that kissed you? Also her.

you yelled at? My mom. She was yelling at me, so I yelled at her as well because two can play at that game now.

that yelled at you? ^

you watched a movie with? I watched Two for the Road by myself last night but as for companions, the last one I had was Gabie when we watched Titanic a few months ago.

you ate dinner with? My family. We eat dinner together every night, at least whenever my dad is back home in the country.

you were in a photo with? Also family. I haven’t been in a photo with anyone other than them in a while...

you took a photo of? That would be my dog. I don’t take photos of people these days, mostly because I’m unable to.

you went to a concert with? I went to my Paramore gig by myself since I couldn’t find anyone who had front row seats like me, but on the day of the concert itself, Denise, Erycka, and Leigh (who were all also going to the show but got cheaper seats) asked to hitch a ride with me. Gabie was also present but that’s only because she was excited for me and wanted to be around for that experience of mine.

you lied to? Probably a schoolmate that I had told I was busy even though I wasn’t and I just didn’t want to work that time.

you invited somewhere? I think Blanch? I told her we should go to Ayala Museum once we can go out again so she can see the prehistoric gold exhibit that they have.

you dated? Just my current girlfriend.

you dumped? I haven’t dumped anyone.

you rejected? Uh... technically Mike. There weren’t any words said, no closure or whatever, but I think we both knew and understood that he liked me but I let him find out for himself that I had already gotten back with my ex. Back then I was still horrible at the confrontation thing and didn’t know how to break it to him.

you held hands with? Gab, over a month ago.

you hugged? Same answer.

you let cry on your shoulder? Egh, I’m only mentally capable of doing this for Gabie. I can let people rant to me but it’s personally not good for my own mental health if I had people crying to me all the time.

that let you cry on their shoulder? Technically it was my dog. But the last person was either Angela or Gab, I don’t really remember.

you bought a gift for? I don’t remember aaaahhhhh. It was probably a Valentine’s gift though.

you wished a happy birthday? Luisa.

that disappointed you? Some distant relative who had recently added me on Facebook then, only for me to see her pro-government posts. I never unfriended someone so quickly.

that stayed over at your place? Ralph, my sister’s now ex-boyfriend. Never liked the guy and am so glad they broke up, I never did like seeing him around in our house hah. that let you crash at their place? Gabie, but only to have dinner and work. that made you angry? My mom told me personal insults over a chore I did wrong a few days ago and it made me really angry. that complimented you? Andrew and I exchanged compliments when we needed pick-me-ups sometime last week. whom you complimented? ^ you thanked? My dad, when I saw him baking chocolate chip cookies a while ago after I had nagged him all week to make some. that thanked you? Mom. She asked me to fetch her something. you saw, in person? Right now I can see my sister on the couch. I think she’s watching an anime or playing some game on her laptop. that bought you something? Now hasn’t really been the time to ask for non-essential stuff, but my dad did buy me my requested soju a few weeks ago. that made you laugh? My sister I think? My family watched an online mass livestream earlier and my mom wanted to try out an American Catholic church after my grand-aunt (who lives in the States) recommended that specific parish. ANYWAY so of course their accent was very different to what we’re used to, and my sister’s fazed reaction to how they said one of the words made me laugh. that you said you loved? Gab. that said they loved you? My mom. you flipped off? Haven’t done this to anyone in a whiiiiileeeeee. you made a silly face at? It would always be just my dog but person-wise I don’t even remember anymore. that drove you somewhere? Dad drove me and my mom to the local columbarium last month.

WHAT was the last thing you...

touched? Other than the keyboard and trackpad, I used a spoon to eat some of the raw cookie dough my dad had prepared heh.

threw? Second day I’m trying to finish this survey lol. I just took the last piece of painkillers to treat my headache, so I threw the packaging like 30 seconds ago.

ate? Shrimp pasta that my mom made for dinner.

drank? Coffee.

found stuck in your teeth? Idk, bits of food that I don’t really keep track of.

cooked? :( Never cooked a full meal ever but the last thing I *helped* my dad with was breading the meat he was gonna use to make pork chop haha.

baked? Chocolate chip cookies two years ago. I remember it distinctly because I never bake.

bought? Man I haven’t bought anything in forever. I’m thinking about it and it’s probably something I bought for lunch at school? The only thing I buy is food anyway so I’m pretty sure I’m at least on the right track.

sold? I'm not much of an entrepreneur. 

took a photo of? My dog with a cold compress on top of his head. The weather is starting to be unforgiving so I’ve been allotting my own compress for Kimi so that he doesn’t feel overheated.

were frustrated with? My mom telling us we had to watch a mass livestream this morning -_____- I thought she was only gonna make us ‘attend’ the Lenten masses i.e. Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday, but it’s past Lent and she’s still making us do it. I’m guessing it’s gonna be routine every Sunday now, ugh.

broke? I don’t tinker much for the very reason that I tend to break everything I touch. That being said, I haven’t broken anything in a while.

spilled? I have a fear of spilling stuff because my mom has always reacted negatively to that. Yay for trauma!

tripped on? A piece of bone that my dog had left on the floor. It felt like stepping on a goddamn Lego.

kicked? My blanket when I started feeling too warm inside my room.

put batteries in? I haven’t used batteries in ages.

turned on? I opened my laptop to continue this survey.

turned off? My Nintendo Switch, when I didn’t feel like playing anymore.

wrote? A survey, if anything. I haven’t had to write anything ever since they suspended online classes.

wrote on? I think it was my sister’s notebook.

cleaned? Myself? I just took a bath if that counts.

WHERE was the last place you...

dined at? I’m pretty sure it was Yabu. Gab and I went out for dinner on the last Monday before the lockdown, didn’t see each other all week, then by Saturday when we saw each other again we just had dinner at her place. So it’s gotta be Yabu.

ordered something to go? A local sushi place and a local pizza place, a week ago. My dad was too lazy to cook that evening so we got takeout instead.

bought something? The local milk tea place that we have in school and Rodic’s. I got myself milk tea, and I got my dad my favorite meal from Rodic’s, tapsilog.

cried? My room, I think.

felt uncomfortable? Just the house cause I haven’t been anywhere in a month.

drove to? My girlfriend’s school and then her house.

had an appointment at? Eye doctor at SM Marikina.

went on vacation? Tagaytay and then we moved to Cavite the day after so that we got to maximize the time that we had to have a staycation.

hung out with a friend? The 30th. Ughhhhh I miss the mall.

bought clothes? Feliz, at an independent clothing stall at one of the top floors.

spent more than you had planned? Feliz then I even had the audacity to move to The 30th to spend more lmaooooo AND THAT WAS A MONDAY. I was so bad at saving money skksks.

saw a band/singer/musician perform? One of the local arenas in Manila so I can watch Paramore.

WHEN was the last time you...

told someone 'I love you'? A little over an hour ago I think.

cried? I don’t remember.

laughed? A few hours ago, maybe? I always laugh when I come across a dumb meme on Facebook.

left your home? March 10th. Really not a good time to be asking that question lol.

drank a soda/pop? Sometime in February when my org had an event and the only drink being served was Coke. I was extremely hungry/thirsty that evening so I had no problem chugging soda down, even though it was so unpleasant.

made your bed? This morning.

visited a doctor? March 9th.

went to the emergency room? I’ve never had to go to the emergency room except for the time I was being delivered.

kissed someone? The last weekend before the lockdown. Man, I had no idea how lame/sad my answers were going to be lmaooo I really should have thought that through before starting a “when was the last time you” survey.

hugged someone? Also a month ago. I’m not a hugger in the family but I do hug my friends a lot.

prayed? Sometime when I was 9 or 10 years old.

worked out? Last semester when my PE was actually focused on working out instead of a sport.

made a phone call? This afternoon. My mom got me load for my phone (after a month of not having any!!!) just because, so I surprised Gab by calling her.

answered a phone? Last night.

had an argument? A few days ago.

played a video game? A little over an hour ago. I was playing Mario Kart 8.

played a card game? It wasn’t necessarily a card game but last January at Rita’s place, she took out a deck, asked us to pick certain cards, and then told us about our relationships and the issues that lurk beneath it based on the cards that were left hahahaha. Of course I think the strategy itself is bullshit but Rita speaks well and is a psych student, so we still ended up having a good conversation after hearing the verdict for mine.

played a board game? Ages ago. I can’t even tell you how long it’s been.

rode a bike? Around a month ago. I told myself I was gonna learn how to ride a bike during the quarantine, but it’s been so hot outside these days that it’s so easy to run out of enthusiasm for it.

fell on your butt? I don’t remember.

took a shower? In the last hour.

took a bubble bath? A year ago, maybe longer.

watched TV? I asked dad to watch El Camino with me on my his and my mom’s TV when it came out, so that would be last October.

saw a movie at a theater? December. It was for Knives Out.

ate fast food? 3-4 weeks ago if I’m not mistaken.

ordered a pizza? A couple of weeks ago. We tried Angel’s Pizza for a change and it turned out to be loads better than Pizza Hut which tends to be our usual.

made someone laugh? I probably made a few people laugh off of the few memes I shared today, so there’s that.

sang? Like a half hour ago. Hayley from Paramore shared a clip of the band performing Hard Times to celebrate the song turning 3 and it turns out the gig was from their show in Manila, so I hurriedly clicked on the video and sang along.

played a musical instrument? It’s been many months since I last used the keyboard.

read a book? A month-ish ago.

drove a car? My dad asked me to move my car to a different spot sometime last week, which felt so surreal as I hadn’t driven in a few weeks. It felt so weird driving again and I had to drive in a crawl to get accustomed to being in the driver’s seat again.

went swimming? August 2019, at a beach in Nasugbu.

got a sunburn? Haven’t gotten a sunburn since I was little.

went to church or temple? First week of March.

went shopping? I don’t really remember but it was one of the last few weekends before the lockdown.

drank alcohol? Two weeks ago.

smoked a cigarette? Sometime in March, the same night when my friends and I went to BGC to party. When everyone else went home, Gab and I stayed for a bit, strolled around The Palace, and had a smoke while watching everyone else around us get crazy wasted.

threw up? Sometime last year. I haven’t drunk too much recently.

had a headache? Tonight.

had a cold? Maybe last year or a couple of years ago. I don’t get colds a lot.

had the flu? Probably not since I was little. I’ve gotten fevers in the last few years but that was all there was to it. I’ve never been sick and had cough and colds at the same time, at least not for a very long time.

had your hair cut? A week before the lockdown -____- Barely anyone got to see my bangs and I’ll always be disappointed about that hahaha.

dyed your hair? Never.

laughed so hard that you cried? I remember watching a hilarious clip on Facebook of this lady who had a contagious fucking laugh, I think it was a week ago or a little over that.

[momtemplative]

MASKED.

1.

In a house with two young kids, our quickest sanity-stabilizer in this COVID era was to head outside and go for a walk, or a bike ride, or to roller skate. We’d pay close attention to the proximity of passers-by, but typically the grassy fields by the bike paths were an open canvas for the kids to blow off some steam. And we’d all return home a bit winded and slightly more stable. 

Then, a little more than two weeks ago, a strong recommendation came from Governor Polis for everyone to wear masks in public. But what, pray-tell, was “public” referring to? 

Here’s what the CDC endorsed: wearing cloth face coverings in public settings where other social distancing measures are difficult to maintain (e.g., grocery stores and pharmacies) especially in areas of significant community-based transmission.

So that’s what we assumed Polis recommended as well. That night we even had a happy hour gathering with our neighbors, all at least 6-feet-away, but without masks. We didn’t feel like we were being sneaky or non-compliant, we were simply following the guidelines as we understood them. 

But then we started seeing people in their yards wearing masks, and on walks wearing masks— in addition to 6-feet! There was an eerie infiltration of mask-wearers, and, with that, the non-verbal communication of an abrupt change of protocol. Our sacred, oft-traveled, 1,000-step bike path that loops around the block started to feel unfamiliar, as if it were a movie set peppered with strangers, wearing homemade cloth curtains over their cheeks. 

We quickly felt like a minority out there with our bare faces.

2.

An afternoon walk was once a favorite time of day—quarantine or not. Quickly though, in light of the current mask situation, and before I began to wear one, my brain started to get stuck in a grinding pattern of managing everyone else’s whereabouts in accordance with my own. I noticed that I was judging those who were masked, at least in part because I was sure they were judging me. 

Their judgment and my judgment felt cut from the same cloth: judgement as a way of controlling the uncontrollable. There is so much confusion about protocols. So much fear of the radio broadcast of white noise and speculation that is to be our future. All these feelings get lumped together into just trying to do it right. I returned from one particular walk stiff as a board and deeply grumpy.

“Jesse,” I said, “I’m not going on a walk again without a mask.”

3.

I opted out of any domestic sewing of masks at first, and started with my old-lady cardigan tied around my face like a waist. I then upgraded to a bedazzled bandana that I bought to fill Opal’s Easter basket last year. I love the happy fabric, but it wouldn’t stay up over my nose for anything beyond the liquor drive-through (my singular biweekly errand). Store-bought masks are not an option. They’ve been back-ordered for weeks and if the stock is replenished, it needs to be saved for the blessed healthcare workers.

By the next weekend, Jesse and Opal wore masks that they made from a YouTube video, using mustard-yellow t-shirts and rubber bands, while on a bike ride. That ride turned out to be very brief because, according to Opal, it was so hard to breathe. 

4.

The solidarity and confidence that come from wearing a mask are helpful and significant, sure. But the act of wearing a mask changes the experience entirely. 

On a purely physical level, it muddles your peripheral vision, steams up your glasses, makes it hot and very hard to breathe. 

On a social-emotional level, the masks create a real separation between people. It feels similar to being at a costume party—even if the invite list includes most of your friends, everyone is suddenly anonymous. 

I walked behind two people (in masks) and a dog from a block away that I thought were my beloved next door neighbors. I even hollered at them. (They didn't hear me.) Then I got closer and realized it was a different dog and very much not my neighbors. It’s all very disorienting.  

5.

One week in, and Opal has taken Polis’s suggestion as gospel. Of course, I don’t blame her. Sometimes when we are out and about, so is the rest of the neighborhood. During those times, the mask feels safe and dare-I-say comforting. (Like we are good, complaint citizens. Go us.) But other times, there is nobody outside. I tell Opal, “Sweetie, we can keep our masks around our chins until we see someone (dozens of feet away!) and then put up our masks.” 

Opal’s reply: NOT A CHANCE.

I try to imagine what it would be like to experience all this at age ten. What other such details has her system become accustomed to over the last month? Zoom call playdates, online school, little sister around all-the-effing-time. Maybe some feelings come out sideways? Maybe everything seems overwhelming and busy even though very little is happening?

In the olden days, before COVID, any sort of outdoor trek was soul-nourishing for all of us. It ticks a lot of boxes: sunshine, fresh air, exercise for me and the dog and the kids, a brain reset. Now, masked, such an activity is beyond taxing. Ruth has no desire to keep her mask on and she’s a runner. We can bribe her with a lollipop to stay in the stroller, but the girth of the BOB, along with the leashed (80-pound) dog requires skill and intentional footing on an average day. Trying to juggle it all through a face-drape is the emotional equivalent of walking through tar. A guaranteed headache.

Returning to our backyard, with its creaky swingset and patchwork yard, and removing our masks (along with the associated invisible constraints) is beyond restorative.

“That’s the best part about a mask,” Opal said. “Taking it off and having the air taste so fresh and cold again.”

6.

On Sunday morning—a few days ago and two solid weeks into the mask-in-public rules of conduct—the kids were scattered on the floor watching Frozen while I folded laundry and Jesse tinkered away at the sewing machine. Project: to sew face-masks that fit each of us properly. It was a lovely scene of the times. I would imagine Norman Rockwell painting such an episode if he were alive during COVID. A family of four (plus cat, plus dog) in their natural weekend habitat. Slow to dress, sipping juice or coffee, and, sewing face masks.

“Ruth,” Jesse said, “Come on over here and try this on to see if it fits.” Ruth scurried over to him to try on her mask like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Later that day, I walked our dog wearing the mask Jesse so lovingly crafted for me (after three fittings). It was exquisite, hands-free, spacious around the mouth. He even used the sweetest yellow-petal, summer dress fabric. When I returned, I kissed him straight through the mask.

7.

In spite of a good fit, it still takes exponentially more effort to greet someone while masked—you have to yell or over-gesture to compensate for the fact that both of your faces are completely erased. Because we wear ours primarily outside, most people are in sunglasses with their masks. But if not, they are far enough away where eye-reading is not an option. It’s all a straight-up guessing game.

More often than not, for the sake of simplicity, it’s just me and the dog these days. Typically, I have my dog’s leash in my left hand, and a steamy bag of his shit in my right that gets carried for countless unpleasant blocks. This is due to the lack of public trash facilities on the neighborhood routes I find are easier to navigate within the guidelines of 6-feet-between. Bike paths are pretty tight if there isn’t open space to veer off on either side. And now I’ve got my mask on, and fogged-up sunglasses. The uniform is similar to that of someone on Halloween in a last-minute ghost-sheet costume, with just the eyes cut out, cobbling along with both hands full. This is not a “path is the journey” sort of moment. I’m lucky if I can twitch out a head-nod or an elbow-wave to a passer-by.

It feels important to counteract the separation that has become synonymous with health and life. But I’d be lying if I said I was able to muster a greeting every time.

8.

In our culture, masks (when not worn in a medical setting) often represent sinister actions—bandits or bank robbers or the KKK who want to hide defining features.

For many Asian countries, mask-wearing was a cultural norm even before the coronavirus outbreak. In East Asia, many people are used to wearing masks when they are sick or when it's hayfever season, because it's considered impolite to sneeze or cough in public.

The 2003 Sars virus outbreak, which affected several countries in the region, also drove home the importance of wearing masks, particularly in Hong Kong, where many died as a result of the virus. Says the BBC news: “One key difference between these societies and Western ones, is that they have experienced a contagion before—and the memories are still fresh and painful.”

I recently read a story about two black men who were wearing masks at Walmart—fully in compliance and trying to keep themselves safe—when they were accosted by police. It hit me like a whip how individualized each of us are experiencing this pandemic. I skoff at my mask because it’s a pain-in-the-ass. But I’ll never be faced with also having to weigh the risks of racial profiling.

Delving further, I read that to-mask-or-not-to-mask has become a way to take a political stance. Trump supporters carrying “My body, My choice” signs, with an illustration of a crossed-out mask—this is a common image to see in the media right now.

The Washington Post said: “Even as governors, mayors and the federal government urge or require Americans to wear masks in stores, transit systems and other public spaces to contain the spread of the novel coronavirus, the nation is divided about whether to comply. And it is divided in painfully familiar ways — by politics and by attitudes about government power and individual choice.”

So, clearly, it is about so much more than just a mask.  

9.  

This just in. 

In a press conference that took place a few days ago, April 20th, Governor Jared Polis and state epidemiologist Dr. Rachel Herlihy outlined how life may change in Colorado as soon as next week, when “shelter-in-place” shifts to “safer-at-home.” They are essentially the same, just with a select few businesses opening with strict distancing rules and incremental shifts toward less physical distancing over all. Polis mentions nothing different about mask-wearing. Meaning, still wear them in public, especially if you can’t get 6-feet-between, especially if you’ve been exposed or have symptoms.

I noticed an immediate difference on my walk following his announcement. There was a family of four playing frisbee in an open space without masks! My initial feeling was wait, WTF? (And yes, I realize we are living in a strange state of affairs for my initial reaction to a beautiful family frolicking in a field to be contempt.) There was a man throwing a ball for his dog in a park that still had many visible CLOSED signs—also NO MASK. (Again, WTF??) I then gave a wide, grassy birth to a group of mask-free bike riders. 

I notice my mask feels more like a burden on my face without the unifying solidarity of everyone doing it. We all seem to be getting different memos.

There’s a huge relief that people are back to having faces, to be sure. I miss people. I love faces. But I have to admit that in spite of my hemming and hawing, I’d gotten used to feeling protected. It’s impossible to make sense of any of it. Even little Ruth came in yesterday and gave a tiny cough. “I’m sick,” she said, “Since I didn’t wear a mask today.” 

Circling back to the facts, the only thing worth grasping at right now, I am challenged to find any bit of news to suggest that our household need to be wearing masks while out on walks—under any level of regulation thus far. Neither Jesse nor myself are working outside of the house. We don’t visit with friends or family. (Big sigh.* We miss everyone terribly.) The odds of us being silent carriers are beyond slim. We are not immuno-compromised. So wearing masks these last few weeks—while still on socially distanced walks—could probably be categorized as an act of cultural alignment, an act of doing everything we can for the cause. 

As of right now, this moment, I do not see our mask-wearing as being impactful to our macro OR micro community. So, for the sake of preserving the sanity of our tiny culture for the long haul, I vote that we wear our beautifully-Jesse-crafted masks on our chins, like flattened feathers at the ready. 

“As it (the “safer-at-home” regulations) rolls off April 27, we need to figure out how to run the marathon now that we’ve run the sprint,” Governor Polis said in his most recent press conference. “I hate to break it to you, but the easy part was the sprint.”

[moderndayportia]

12 Days of Kakasaku

Day 3: Hens

Rating: Explicit Word count: 3,500

A/N: I don’t know what will happen to Tumblr after tomorrow, but I have every intention of continuing this series on the 18th. Until then, I give you the gift of smut in case this is the last time we meet on here. I love you guys!

 Sakura was thirsty.

The bar was filled with holiday merry-makers and couples huddled together in its glowing warmth after ducking in off the cold street. This time of year, people always seemed to find someone to cuddle with in the glow of twinkling Christmas lights, but Sakura was acutely aware of how alone she was. The holidays weren’t quite the holidays without someone to share them with.

The girls beside her giggled and whispered conspiratorially about a group of guys in business suits in the corner, but Sakura’s focus kept drifting down to the other end of the long, mahogany bar where the bartender cut a lonely figure. He was tall, lean and handsome, with a young face and a head of shocking gray hair. A long, mysterious scar bisected his left eye and cheek. She wanted to know his story. He was slouching against the end of the bar, ignoring all of the customers and reading a book.

There was something about him that kept drawing her eyes like a magnet.

She looked down into her half-consumed drink and made a decision. “I’ll be right back,” she told her tipsy friends, before walking down the bar and scooting into a chair in front of him.

He didn’t even glance up, either totally immersed in his story or purposely ignoring her too.

After a moment of building up her courage, she asked “What are you reading?”

The bartender looked up from his book, and his lazy eyes traced over her face before they fell to her glass.

“Need a refill?”

His voice was perfect, deep and masculine.

Sakura looked down at the sweet pink concoction Ino had insisted they order and frowned. “Sure, okay. But not this again.”

The bartender chuckled and set his book down on the counter, still open to the page he had been reading so he could easily resume.

“You didn’t like it?” he teased, as he took the half-full glass and dumped it into the sink.

“Oh, no. It was good. Just a little….” Sakura faltered, not wanting to offend the handsome stranger.

“Like licking an Easter bunny’s asshole?” he finished for her, a devilish smirk spreading across his lips.

Sakura thought about it for a minute and then smiled widely at him. “Exactly.”

“Yeah, it’s not my favorite on the menu,” he admitted, setting her glass on a wrack to be cleaned. “So, what’s your poison?” he asked, planting his hands flat and wide on the bar in front of her.

She was taken off guard by his sudden, easy closeness. “Um, I don’t know. What do you like to make?” She suddenly felt very eager to please.

He leaned in to speak lowly to her, as if sharing a secret, “Lots of things.” A shiver ran down Sakura’s spine. “But I think I know what you want,” he said, and stepped back to pluck a Collins glass off of the shelf. Sakura’s fingers came up to touch her cheeks as he worked, and she could feel the burning blush that he had kindled there. Was he flirting? It sure seemed like it. Did he really know what she wanted? Did she?

He filled a glass with ice and plonked it down onto the bar before tilting several different bottles into it at once. And then he tapped on a silver cup and started shaking it vigorously in front of his shoulder.

Sakura tried not to stare.

“Hen party?” the bartender asked, glancing down the bar at an increasingly drunk and giggly Ino, Hinata and Tenten.

“Yeah,” Sakura answered, looking towards her preoccupied friends. Tomorrow was Ino’s wedding, a Christmas spectacular hosted in the National Gallery of Art, and she had insisted on having her closet girls take her out for drinks. “How’d you know?” she wondered as the handsome bartender poured her drink through a metal sieve into a chilled glass. “Penis whistle,” he replied simply and Sakura balked. She looked down to see that she was in fact still wearing the dumb penis whistle that Tenten had brought to her flat earlier. She yanked it off and shoved it into her pocket as he chuckled at her embarrassment.

A dash of something and a flourish of an orange rind around the rim of the glass and he was sliding the drink in front of her.

“What is it?”  she asked as she brought the glass to her lips. She was met with the fresh bouquet of herbs and citrus, and she quickly sipped the refreshing concoction. It was delicious.

“I have no idea,” he answered succinctly.

Sakura froze. “What?”

He chuckled again as he picked up a towel to wipe down the counter in front of her. “I just made some quick decisions. You looked like you needed a pick me up.”

Sakura peered down into the glass perched at her lips. “Oh god, is this going to get me wasted?”

The bartender threw his head back and laughed. It was deep and rich.

She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?” she whined.

“No. There’s no alcohol in it,” he assured, still chuckling to himself.

“Oh.” Sakura took another sip, noticing now that the burn of alcohol was absent. “It’s good,” she told him sincerely.

“Good,” he answered back.

Sakura shifted awkwardly and debated getting up. The bartender leaned confidentially back on the counter and watched her, a towel draped over his shoulder and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well, thanks for the drink,” she said as she shifted to climb down off the chair.

“Cummings,” he said suddenly, and she stilled.

“Uh, what?”

“You asked what I’m reading before. It’s Cummings.”

Sakura took the bait and settled back onto the chair. What did she know about e.e. cummings? American, post-modern, weird words, rule breaker? That sounded right. She quickly searched for an angle, eager to engage him on the topic.

“Really? I’m surprised.”

“Oh?”

“Isn’t he a little dry for Christmas Eve?”

“Dry?”

“Um, un-romantic, I guess?”

“Un-romantic? You only say that because you don’t know him,” the bartender teased.

“Are you a romantic?” Sakura asked, and then immediately regretted it. Try not to sound so desperate, she mentally berated herself.

He took it in stride. “Maybe. Are you?”

Sakura glanced at her friends down the bar. Ino was glowing and happy and showing off her ring again. She supposed love was true, for some people, even if her luck wasn’t so great lately.

“Maybe,” she answered simply.

Her plus one for the wedding, Sasuke, had cancelled last month. In reality, he was more than her plus one. They had been really serious, rven at the stage of moving in together and adopting a dog. But he had chosen his career over her, taking a three-year secondment in Shanghai and breaking things off with her at the last minute before he left in October. He was supposed to be back for Ino’s wedding, but Sakura found herself suddenly with a broken heart and no date.

And a cold, empty bed and no one to give a Christmas present to.

“So it’s not your wedding then?” the bartender asked, interrupting her spiral of self-pity.

“What? Oh no. It’s Ino’s. The blonde.”

The bartender looked pleased. He uncrossed his arms and came forward to lean on the bar in front of her again. “And you haven’t read Cummings?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I don’t remember. Maybe in uni English class. Is he any good?”

The bartender smiled broadly. “He’s the best.”

“The best?” she returned with faux surprise. “How could I not have read him before then if he’s the best?”

The bartender chuckled and reached for the open book. “Well, we can fix that right now.”

He flipped through a couple of pages and nodded before holding the well-worn book out to her. Sakura ran her fingers over the stem of her glass and peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “Would you read it to me?” she asked shyly.

A knowing glimmer twinkled in his eye. “Sure.” He threw the towel down off his shoulder and whistled at someone across the room at the billiards table. The good-looking guy yelled back “Roger” and sauntered behind the other end of the bar, quickly catching the attention of Sakura’s friends as he grabbed a stir straw and stuck it between his teeth. Sakura’s bartender ducked out from behind the bar and pulled a stool up closer to hers.

Sakura sipped her drink as she tried not to think about how close his knees were to brushing against hers. He cleared his throat a little. “I like this one” He started with a slow and confident rhythm that belied familiarity, “Lady, I will touch you with my mind. Touch you and touch and touch until you give me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene. Lady I will touch you with my mind. Touch you, that is all, lightly and you utterly will become with infinite care.”

His voice, and not just the words he was reading, sent tingles shooting down Sakura’s spine, and she discreetly rubbed her thighs together under the bar. “Wow,” she breathed, transported.

“Wow indeed,” he answered and closed the book and placed it before him.

“Still think it’s dry?”

“No, I think I’ve been missing out,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” he said simply. “But it’s never too late.”

Sakura sipped her drink and contemplated the implications of that as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. The melody of a bitter-sweet Christmas song played softly in the background. A sudden thought occurred to her, “How’d you know to make it a virgin?”

He shrugged, and didn’t take the opportunity to make a joke like the more immature guys she was used to would have. “Not everyone comes to a bar to drink.”

“What do they come to the bar for then? To read Cummings?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they are looking for something else.” His knee brushed against hers and a heat burnt brightly in his dark eyes.

She glanced at her friends and then back at him. “And if I am?”

He just studied her for a long moment, and then nodded. “I think it’s my break now.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kakashi,” he said as he took her hand.

“Sakura,” she responded. The feeling of his long, callused fingers wrapping around hers made the decision for her.

He helped her down from the stool and she let herself be led through the bar and towards a hallway by the bathrooms. Her friends may have called out to her, but she neither noticed nor cared, too consumed with anxious excitement.

Was this really happening? Was she really doing this?

She followed him through a door and into an empty kitchen— it was late enough that service had ended for the night—and into a small, dim office at the back. He pulled her inside and shut the door.

“I don’t know what—”

But then his lips were brushing against hers and his hands were on her hips and guiding her back to press against the door.

“I know what you need,” he said, and she nodded and licked her lips.

“Yes.”

He kissed her again and she melted into him. How long had it been since she was kissed? How perfect and strong did he feel pressed up against her?

His hands tangled through her hair and he angled her head so that he could deepen the kiss. His tongue ran along her bottom lip and Sakura moaned and opened to let him in. His tongue delved skillfully over hers teasing and caressing expertly in a way that transported her worries away. He was a great kisser.

Before she wanted him to, he pulled his mouth from hers and pressed his lips against her neck. She was shivering now, and his hands were holding her hips flush with the hard surface of the door behind her or they would have been rolling to get closer to him.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he rumbled against her neck. “Okay, Sakura?”

“Please,” she panted.

He hummed, pleased with her response. “Turn around,” he said, pivoting her quickly by the grip on her hips.

Sakura gasped a little and caught herself by the palms against the door. Kakashi pressed up against her from behind, and she could feel his pronounced hardness digging into her ass.

His lips and tongue worked over the sensitive expanse of her neck and she arched and pushed back against him. He rumbled a little in approval of her responsiveness, and his hands skimmed over her stomach. He was touching her so gently, and her head was spinning with it.

His hands went in different directions, one stroking over her hips and up toward the deep V-neck of her dress. He tugged it a little to the side and then his warm palm slid in to hold her small, soft breast. At the same time his other hand caressed over the front of her thigh, working his way under her dress. His fingertips brushed over the soft apex of her thighs, and he paused.

“Okay?” he asked. She could feel his hot breath rushing over her ear.

She moaned a breathy yes. And then his long deft fingers slid under her panties and into the hot, slippery heat beneath.

“God, you’re so wet,” he growled.

Sakura cried out and threw her head back as he wasted no time targeting the spot that she was weakest. A few strums of his fingers, and she was already sobbing and gushing over his palm. She had never cum so quickly before, but she was burning still for him.

“More?”

“Please,” she whined weakly.

He pulled the hand out from under her neckline and dragged the tight skirt of her dress up over her hips. “Stick out your ass,” he directed, and Sakura did. Her forehead fell to rest between her hands on the office door as long fingers pushed past the legs of her panties and entered her pussy from behind.

“Fuck,” she hissed.

He worked her clit and fucked her on his long fingers until she was shivering and tense. Kakashi added another finger and she moaned at the stretch.

“Like that?” he murmured in her ear, the warm, hard expanse of him pressing deliciously up against her back.

“God yes.”

“You’re so hot,” he said before his teeth bit gently down on the bend of her neck.

“Oh god,” she panted.

“Say my name,” he growled, crooking his fingers and targeting a spot that made her pant and drip. “If you remember it.”

“What?” she asked, barely cognizant of anything other than the pressure he was building between her thighs.

“Say my name,” he repeated, his voice low and authoritative. “When you cum on my fingers, say my name.”

“Fuck,” Sakura cried, his voice pushing her over the edge.

“That’s it. Just like that, Sakura” he murmured, his fingers thrusting faster.

“Kakashi—oh fuck—cumming—yesssssssssssss” Sakura cried as she fractured apart under his hands.

He worked her gently through the pulsing roll of her climax, and when his fingertips drew a shiver from her sensitive flesh, he stopped and pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“Uhn,” Sakura grunted weakly as his hands withdrew from her throbbing heat.

My god.

He turnedher around and held her against his strong chest as she worked in shuddering breaths of air.

“That was—” she said into his chest. “Incredible.”

“Thank you,” he laughed, rubbing her back. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Sakura said, testing out her weak knees. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” he answered, pulling back to look at her face. He popped two finger inside his mouth and quickly sucked off her juices, as if it was frosting from a cake.

Sakura rested slightly back against the door and watched him with awe.

And then he leaned toward her and pressed a kiss to her mouth and she could taste herself on his lips and she moaned in the back of her throat. His hands were on her again. And she didn’t think she could cum again so soon, but she would love to give him pleasure. And then he was tugging at her skirt.

And Sakura noticed he was tugging it down, not up. He pulled back and straightened the V neck of her dress with a critical eye.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Helping you clean up,” he answered simply.

“But don’t you need to—”

He raised an eyebrow. “To?”

“Cum,” she said, blushing ridiculously despite the intimacy of what they’d just done.

He looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ll be okay,” he dismissed her concern, brushing the hair off her shoulders.

That needy, self-conscious beast was stirring inside her, and Sakura reached to tuck her fingers under the top of his belt. “We don’t have to do it. I can use my hands. Or my mouth,” she said shyly.

Quickly, he grabbed her wrists, and pulled her hands away. “Sakura, listen,” he said.

Oh here it comes, she thought, bracing herself for rejection.

“I am a grown man. I can very well handle it when a sexual encounter isn’t all about my needs.”

Sakura was stunned.

“And besides,” he held her hands gently in his. “Making a pretty girl cum on Christmas Eve? I couldn’t have asked for a better present.”

Sakura knew instinctively that he was acting from a place of compassion. If they took it all the way, she’d probably tell herself bad things about her character in the morning. But this way she could treat herself more gently.

And yet, she still worried her lip.

“Well, what if I wanted to make you cum?” she asked.

“Then I’d say we better go on a date first.”

Sakura felt hope bloom in her chest. Was she crazy or did he want this to be more than just a hook up?

“Um, I have this wedding tomorrow, but my plus one canceled. You could come with me, I mean if you’re not working. Or we could do something else. I know that it’s really sudden—”

He captured her lips again in a kiss, sweet and soft, and then pulled away. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“I’d love to come.”

Sakura processed that. Her ex had always whined and tried to get out of it when it had anything to do with her friends. “Are you sure?”

He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like nothing better. Now come on, my breaks almost over.”

He took her by the hand and led her back out of the office and through the kitchen. At the end of the hallway she tugged on his grip, and he stopped to look back at her.

Self-doubt crept in once again. “Um, are you really sure? About tomorrow. We barely know each other and I know that’s a big ask—”

He smiled and used his grip on her hand to draw her close. He leaned down kissed her cheek before his lips found the shell of her ear. “My name is Kakashi, I own this bar, I read erotic poetry, I’m going to be your date tomorrow. And I just made you cum. Twice,” he whispered darkly.

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. “Well when you put it like that—”

He smiled and stepped back, grabbing her hand again and leading her to their previous spot at the bar. Her drink had been cleared away and the crowd had thinned out significantly. Sakura caught Ino giving her a quizzical look from where she stood waiting impatiently by the door, holding Sakura’s coat and bag.

Kakashi grabbed a pen and wrote something on a napkin before sliding it to her. “Text me the details and the dress code,” he said simply.

Sakura took the napkin and folded it in her hands.

“All right.”

“All right,” he said and stepped closer. “One last thing.”

“Yeah?” Sakura responded, very aware of the gawking attention of her friends.

His hands settled on her waist and he smiled at her nervousness. “Look up.”

She did, and that’s when she saw it. A bunch of mistletoe hung right over the spot where she had been sitting.

“Was that always there—"she started, but then forgot the question as he cupped her cheek and brought his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss that had her toes curling once again. He pulled back and let her go. “Merry Christmas Sakura,” he said softly.

“Merry Christmas Kakashi,” she breathed.

As she stepped out into the cold night, a heat in her chest was burning bright. Ino and Tenten immediately started in with questions, but Hinata just gave her a knowing look as a dazed and happy Sakura led them toward the subway station.

The lights of the city twinkled for her as she passed. She was suddenly very much looking forward to Christmas again.