#I should’ve drawn this for her birthday but whatever

[xxmarionandtheriotxx]

[s-4pphics]

errrr……. hey…

uhhh this is awkward hey what do we do when we’re grieving? write ab arranged marriages slayyyyyy errrr yeah here’s that see yall next month or year or whatever

—

“I want a divorce.”

Your tone doesn’t waver nor break, voice engulfed in plainness.

It was one of the issues Ellie’s had since your marriage: an act to combine assets initiated by your parents. They never intended to have a daughter — you told Ellie the night of your honeymoon — but when your mother laid eyes on you, warming you with the skin of her chest for the first time, she painted your entire future in her mind. An object. The finest to be drenched and drowned in riches and diamonds, only living under multi-million dollar homes owned by your husband’s family name. Just as long as you played your role. A silent, unopinionated, docile baby-making machine.

Your parents nearly had a heart attack when they found one of your diaries filled with pictures of naked women, either hand drawn or torn from pages of your father’s filthy magazines. Your mother told you she should’ve aborted you, just when you thought you’d finally have a normal birthday party. The heavy breaths of your sobs extinguished the flame above your 18th candle.

But you’re 22 now; fabulously wealthy, married and…

Staring at your wife… plainly, even though the flames in your eyes rages war. The dining table is a battleground and a red dot punctures right through Ellie’s forehead. She’s not sure what you are.

Your marriage was not ideal. Not only was it forced and filled with shame, but Ellie grew resentful rather quickly. Towards the man that brought her into such a shrouded lifestyle, towards the heavens above for cursing her with life, but when she couldn’t attack, she brought it to your bedroom. You suffered, she’ll admit. It only took two weeks into your marriage for her to find an escape through other unassuming women while you laid in your shared bed with a tear-soaked pillow. You never knew when she’d come home, but when she did, she never failed to berate you. It carried on for months, the blame; blaming you for everything that’s happened to her thus far, despite her knowing that you’re a victim just as much as she is. You were her only emotional outlet. Or punching bag.

But despite every torment she threw your way, you never failed to smile at her the next morning with her coffee in your hands.

You always remained silent. Until now.

The delicious meal you prepared has soured on her tongue. All she can do is stare at you in disbelief.

She takes in the polite fold of your hands, 16 carat, rose gold, wedding band still on your ring finger. Her eyes rush over the plumpness of your lips, the delicate curve of your nose, the rise and fall of your chest… the way your breasts expand in your flowery dress with each breath.

Ellie swallows, nearly choking at the sudden dryness in her throat.

“… What?”

“I want a divorce.”

Your tone raises. Not aggressively; that wouldn’t fit you. You wanted her to hear you.

She huffs despite the burning tips of her ears. “I’m sure.” She mocks with a smirk.

Your eyes squint. “I’m not joking.”

“You know who else wasn’t?” She leans across the table, pinning you with her gaze, “Our parents. They don’t give a fuck about what we do and don’t want. We’re lucky they put us together.”

“I…”

Ellie flinches when your voice cracks to a whisper. Never once has the shell you mask yourself in cracked. Not once. Not in front of Ellie, your parents, her family, even strangers. You’ve never failed to put on a dazzling smile for the spectators.

“I want to be in love.” Tears free fall from your eyes and your chin trembles, “There’s no… I don’t have anyone. I never did.”

“I thought we could… at least be friends. I know you didn’t want this, I know — b-but… I can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m dying—“

Ellie knows you’re talking about her, and guilt swallows her whole. It’s a shame, really; you’re gorgeous when you cry. Why’s her heart pounding this madly?

“I want someone to treat me like I-I’m alive, no one sees me, I d — don’t feel real —“

Ellie stands when your often assembled appearance begins to crumble. She’s never seen you so shattered, gasping for air like it’s limited. She recognizes this. You’re breaking, just like she did the night before she signed her life over to your family.

“Hey—“

Your seat goes flying back when your heeled feet plant on the marble floor, manicured nails clutching at the skin of your chest raw. She rushes over when your sobs crack, desperately trying to get air in your lungs with pleading and fearful eyes.

“Hey, hey, look at me, c’mon—“

Your fists pound against her chest in between wails, makeup streaking down your face, clumping your fluttery lashes. She calls out to you with hands on your soaked cheeks, tells you to count, to spell your name for her, but you can’t hear. You can’t function. Have you ever been this close?

Ellie curses before her hand flies into the jug filled with sphered ice cubes, shoving them into the side of your neck. They melt instantly from the heat of your skin, but you gasp and flinch from the cold.

“Yeah, feel that? Feels nice? Focus on that.”

Her hand delves into the jug until your jerky breaths calm into spluttered exhales. She’s sure she’s frost bitten.

You’re quiet again. Docile again. Anxious. Embarrassed. Heartbroken. And so fucking angry. Ellie’s getting whiplash looking into your eyes. They’re speckled with gold and… something foreign. She can’t place it. The hand on your cheek swiftly falls to her side.

“You—“ she clears her throat when you wobble, vibrating form pushing up against her, nose almost brushing hers, “You alright?”

But you say nothing, eyes distant. You simply step out of your heels with tightly clenched fists and jostled hair before walking towards the staircase.

“I’m very tired.” You say plainly over your shoulder before trekking up the steps. She watches cautiously until a door slams shut. She, after minutes of gawking at the staircase, takes in the scenery around her. Everything is where it should be… minus your plate is cold and untouched. But your wine glass is empty. She's not sure where the bottle is. Since when do you drink?

Her mind is unsettled and there’s a stutter in her chest. Your home is silent. A heaviness that weighs her down.

She assumed that the uncomfortable twist in her gut was from her own wrongdoings since your marriage.

Not at all.

Ellie’s concerned. There’s something off about you.

More off than usual.

[queentorri]

My beautiful little blue eyed snow bunny, we were just hooking up. I was a rebound, he wanted to take a hot shower. I just wanted physical touch. We were using each other. The first time he touched me, I was in awe. The way he did it, he clearly was the predator, I was just the prey that night. He is only 18, so although he shattered me in ways I’ll never explain to him, I will explain to my tumblr because I need to get these thoughts out of my head… they’re drowning me. After the first night, I had this desire to want to take care of his wants and needs. I don’t know why honestly, there was just this want. And I could feel that, he didn’t value me in any capacity in those first moments. I was someone he probably saw that he could manipulate, fuck every once in a while, and that I was somewhere to be. He proceeded to say we couldn’t fuck anymore, and I think he thought that’s all I seen him as, and in that moment, it was, but I wasn’t in the habit of collecting bodies, so keep touching me. Use me and then leave me. I accepted it, because I wanted a man’s touch. So it started with a haircut, some gas, free unlimited supply of tree.. then he ended up meeting kess when kess was goin thru something, he showed up. They got along. This was the start of our relationship or whatever the fuck it was/is. He was coming over a lot, he was at my apartment with kess and Kevin more then I was. At first he was kind of distant to me. The boys didn’t like it, they saw how his different energy would alter mine and bring me down. This is where Kess tried telling me he needed to go, I brushed it off. Kevin liked him being around, and I liked him being around even if he wasn’t overly nice to me. Something about watching them laugh, play video games made me happy. It was chapter one of my epic delusion. As he was around more, I realized that, this divine man, was also very broken. Not meaning I saw or see anything wrong with him. Life just hasn’t always been kind to him, and love hasn’t been gentle with him. I started seeing him as someone I knew I could never love whole, but I wanted to try. I’ve always been drawn to the ones who I know are bad for me. He became a part of our little family, and I had convinced myself that maybe if I gave him enough, gave him everything he wanted, he would find a reason to stay. I didn’t ever begin to think that he would stay through us watching Kevin die, I didn’t think he would end up moving in with us. I didn’t think he’d sit with me while I fell apart because everything fell apart. They all left me. Kevin, Kess & Evin. Our team, the ones we could always count on. Now all I was left with was trying to pick up the pieces. He saw the most broken parts of me, because once he was living with me, I couldn’t hide those moments from him even though I tried. And for a while he stayed, I think because he felt like he had to. He was my pretend boyfriend in front of my parents. He played his part, almost like it came naturally. But when it was us, he was very clear in the beginning he didn’t want to be with me. And my delusions convinced me I could change his mind. I could be enough. So I tried, really hard every day. He just sees himself as such a broken person, that a lot of people left him behind. He sees his image as something dark that I can’t fully understand, but even if he truly explained it.. I’d never think he was anything but beautiful, because he didn’t immediately abandon me.. the first time he made me cry was on my 30th birthday. My phone died, and I needed his to text kess I don’t remember why, I was drunk, he gave it to me.. and I looked, and I seen what I wished, I never would’ve. He was in an emotional relationship with some girl, I can’t even remember her name. But I remember the emotion he shared with her. It was beautiful, it was everything I’ve been waiting for him to say to me. I now realize that day will never come. I had my out, I should’ve taken it. I could have said pack your shit and get out but I didn’t. Because, I wanted him next to me. I knew I wasn’t gonna make him leave…

[colorisbyshe]

i arrive my hip hop class, in like… gym shorts and an hxh tank. just ready for a sweaty work out. the room is lined with heels… what’s going on?

apparently, last week when i didn’t go it was decided we were doing a heels class. well fuck me but okay i’m a TROOPER… i’ll join in barefoot. like im there already. cool. whatever.

half the class is the most physically fit women i have ever seen and they’ve never been there before and half of the normies aren’t here at all—this should’ve served as an omen to me. a sign to just go the fuck home. but nooo, im open to trying new experiences with new people.

teacher doesn’t do eight counts and is just singing to the kehlani song and it’s clear this is gonna be sexy hip hop. again, i’m in an anime tank top and men’s gym shorts but it’s cool. it’s a vibe.

we do half the routine, it’s like shaking hips and sexy walking. i can do that. “okay get on your knees and we’re gonna do some twerking.”

i am a white woman with no ass and no rhythm. i know my place in the world. it’s not twerking. i have a poorly healed torn calf muscle, even if it was my place at one point, it isn’t now.

god does not want me slut dropping. why was i commanded to do so today?

but i’m BRAVE and willing to destroy my body for the bit. i do it. it’s FINE. i’m in the back corner just minding my fucking business.

“let’s do it in groups” okay so the class is gonna be watching me. now they’re minding my business.

i am strong. i can overcome.

“okay, let’s do it in pairs.” a line is drawn. no. i realize now i am not gods strongest soldier. it also becomes evident at this point that the physically fit women are her fellow dance teacher friends. they’re on fire. killing it. a pair goes. a pair goes.

just me and one woman left. “you have to go!!!” no i don’t. “don’t let her go alone :(“

fuck me. FUCK ME. fine.

we’re the last pair to go. my spirit leaves my body.

it’s the dance teachers birthday.

i’m offered cold pizza.

i decline, nauseated. i drve home and scream speech to text messages.

i’m killing myswlf

killing myself

[hstyleshoney]

Luck On Tour

A/N: Soo, this is my little thing for @oh-honey-styles​ HSFICSLAM 2 challenge. I’ve been struggling to write something for a while now and this kind of just caught my attention because it seemed like fun. It’s nothing too serious or fancy. Just a little bit of fun. If one person enjoys it then I’m happy, bc I just had a good time writing again. 

Let me know your thoughts, it would mean a lot!!! xx 

WC: 2.7K // a cheesy story about good luck charms and love 

“You’re jealous aren’t you?”

“What?” 

You blinked and turned around to glance at Charlotte who was looking at you with a smug smile. She raised her eyebrows knowingly and nodded her head in the direction you had just been glaring.

“I told you this was gonna happen.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you told her, taking a deep breath, before forcing a strangled laugh from your chest. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Charlotte hummed and tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought before continuing. “Maybe because you two have been sleeping together for a couple of weeks now and you won’t admit it’s more than a ‘friends with benefits’ type of thing.”

You opened your mouth to tell her she was wrong, but Charlotte stopped you by putting her hand up and adding; “And now you’ve been glaring at poor Rosie for the last ten minutes for doing his hair - which, you know, is her job.”  

“I have not.”

“Sure,” she chuckled mockingly and pressed her lips together to stop herself from grinning. “If you say so.”

Instead of replying you turned around to look at Harry again. He sat across the room from you, getting ready for the last and final show of his tour, with Rosie standing in front of him. Your eyes went to her hands as she ran her fingers through his brown hair and twirled his locks around her fingers to give him a little more definition.

And you had no reason to be jealous - but maybe you were? Just a little bit. Just the tiniest little bit jealous.

Because you now knew just how soft his hair was and that morning you had been the one to soothingly run your hands through it as he rested his head on your chest, cuddling up to you and holding you close.

Still, you really shouldn’t be jealous, because Rosie was only doing her job as his hairstylist and there was absolutely no reason for you to be jealous. None. Nada. Zero.

But then there was also that interviewer who, in your opinion, sat way too close to him and touched his arm a little too often. Laughing and flirting with him like no one else was around. It left a sour taste in your mouth, although you would never admit that outloud. Especially not to Charlotte.

It was only supposed to be a bit of fun. It was never supposed to get to this point. You were only supposed to be the tour photographer. Harry had liked the pictures you had taken of him during one of his Jingle Bell Ball performances a while back. And when his regular photographer wasn’t able to join him on the North American part of his tour, due to a conflict in her schedule, his team reached out and asked if you were available.

You were.

So a couple weeks later you were on a plane, traveling across the Atlantic, and ended up befriending one of the world's biggest pop stars.

How you ended up naked in his bed after the show in Chicago was still something you were trying to figure out.

It kind of just... happened.

One of the crew members had turned 40 and Harry had arranged a big birthday party for him after the show. You weren’t supposed to be working but you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling out your camera, the moment was there and you wanted to capture everyone's good spirits. Harry came up to you, a plate of cake in one hand and a drink in the other, forcing you to take it from him and telling you to put the camera away and have some fun.

One drink turned into another, and another turned into a third, and the third turned into a shot of tequila. It was all just downhill from there.

As the night went on you found yourself being drawn closer to Harry and when his fingers danced across the skin on your thigh you knew there was no going back. An hour later you stumbled into his hotel room, and his hands and lips were all over you as you ripped his shirt from his body before the door was even fully closed behind you.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and a belly full of regret because it was terribly unprofessional of you to sleep with the artist you were supposed to be working for. You were sure you were going to be told to pack your bags and go back home.

Of course that didn’t happen and Harry was nothing but sweet. He ordered both of you breakfast and let you sleep off your hangover in his bed while he got himself ready for the day.

Then it kind of just became a thing, because life on the road could be a little lonely and your pink vibrator wasn’t always enough.

It didn't bring you the same warmth Harry did.

And he didn’t seem to mind sharing a bed with you either, even if he sometimes complained about your cold toes rubbing against his legs.

So, really, who were you to say no?

But perhaps you should’ve because now the tour was coming to an end and you had no idea where the two of you stood and the uncertainty of it all was making you jealous of his hairstylist touching him - not ideal.

Which was why you decided to remove yourself from the situation and went to get your camera ready instead. You found yourself a quiet spot in a small corner next to the stage and tried to ignore the immature thoughts about Harry and Rosie running through your mind.

You shouldn't be jealous. It was stupid. Besides you and Harry weren’t anything exclusive. Sure, he made your heart beat twice as fast and made you feel things you had only ever read about in novels before, but you hadn’t told him any of that yet.

And you weren’t really sure how to tell him any of that. 

Should you even tell him?

Telling him would make it real and what if he didn’t feel the same... that would certainly be the end of whatever was going on between the two of you. 

But it was possible that the end of the tour also represented the end of the two of you, so, maybe you didn’t even have anything to lose by telling him?

You groaned to yourself and ran a hand over your face in frustration, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to drown out your thoughts with the sound from all the screaming fans in the already full-packed arena. The anticipation was high and usually it made your whole body itch with excitement as well, there was just so much love and adoration going around for one person. It was impossible to not be part of it, but tonight it only made your belly twist with anxiety.

You were going to miss it. The loud crowds. The anticipation. The joy radiating off of everyone in the arenas. The ringing in your ears as you got into bed hours later. The sparkle in Harry’s eyes as he looked through the pictures you’d taken and saw the happy faces of his fans.

You were going to miss him. Harry.

It was one of the reasons you hadn’t asked him how he felt about the two of you. If he turned around and said that your late night rendezvous was only a bit of fun while you were on the road... Well, it was something you weren’t ready to hear just yet.

Fuck.

It was also at that exact moment that Harry decided to show up, only a couple minutes before he was due to go out on stage.

“There you are,” he called out when he spotted you, your green trousers and matching striped blazer making you stand out from your little hideout in the dark corner. You watched as he said something to Jeff before making his way over to you. “Been lookin’ for ya for bloody ages - thought I’d have to go on stage without a goodluck from my little ladybug.”

You tried your best to ignore the way your whole body tingled from his little nickname for you; a nickname that started after he noticed the small little ladybug ring you always wore on your right index finger. You had had it since you were twelve and you just couldn’t get rid of it. Ever since you first saw it in the small thrift shop in your hometown it had been your good luck charm.

And once Harry asked about it and learned that you wore it every single day for good luck, he decided it was also the reason why the North American tour had been going so well and didn’t go on stage before you had wished him a good show.

“Well, here I am.”

Harry frowned and stopped in his tracks. You couldn’t look at him, the high waisted trousers and sparkling suit jacket he was wearing made your already racing heart beat even faster.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting ready,”  you muttered and nodded down to the camera in your hands. You didn’t mean to sound so bitter but the words fell from your lips before you could stop yourself. “Are you all set for the last show then? Maybe you should go find Rosie again to make sure the hair is good.”

You regretted it as soon as you said it, your cheeks turning hot as the last phrase slipped from your tongue.

That was stupid.

His eyes burned through your skin and you knew there was no way he was going to let your snide little remark go. Stupid stupid stupid.

For a moment you contemplated just making a run for it so you could hide in the lively crowd for the whole show and then simply just disappear into the night, so you wouldn’t ever have to look Harry Styles in the eyes ever again.

But something stopped you.

A low, almost inaudible, chuckle fell from the man in front of you and you glanced up at him just as his lips curled into a small smirk, his dimple appearing on his cheek, and you felt your face grow even hotter. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

Harry held his hands up innocently.

“I’m not looking at you in any way,” he said, still smirking, and let his tongue poke out to lick his pink lips.

“Yes, you are! I don’t like that-” you started and waved your finger at him, “Whatever it is you're doing with your face.”

“Are you jealous?” Harry asked, ignoring your frustrated little stomp, and took a step closer to you.

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” you said, taking a shaky breath and a step backwards away from him, making both of you disappear in the shadows of the dark corner where you had previously been hiding as he followed and continued to come closer.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.”

“It’s fine if you are.”

“You really need to stop or I’ll only snap pictures of you from your worst angles tonight.”

Not that he really had any bad angles but that was beside the point. It was absolutely infuriating how he could see right through you so easily.

Harry laughed and took one final step forward, trapping you between his body and the wall. His familiar perfume washed over you and you wanted to bathe in it forever. He always smelled so damn good, and for a moment you forgot about your childish behavior from a couple seconds ago and let yourself get lost in the green of his eyes

“You know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?” Harry told you and reached out to push a strand of your hair away from your face. His fingers gently brushed across the apple of your cheek, making your heart flutter and head fuzzy. He was no longer smirking at you but his lips were still turned upwards. Instead of the smug smirk he was now looking down at you with a soft smile - the same smile you had gotten so used to seeing first thing in the morning, and you were sure you wouldn’t mind if you got to see it every morning for the rest of your life.

“Do I?” you breathed out nervously. 

“Well, when we’re back in London I'm gonna make sure to finally take you on a proper date and-”

“What?”

You didn’t mean to cut him off. It just took you completely off guard and the words fell from your lips before you could think twice about it. “You want to take me out on a date in London?”

That caught him a little off guard.

“Oh,” Harry faltered a little and scratched the back of his neck. For the first time there was a hint of nervousness across his otherwise confident features. “I kind of just assumed we would, eh, we don’t have to- I mean if you, um- if you don’t- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to continue things back home.”

And you probably really should’ve said something then, but you were at a loss for words. It was the first time either of you had ever mentioned something about seeing each other after the tour was done. You finally had an answer to the question that had swirled around in your head for days and had created the uncertainty and jealousy in the first place. Just like that.

You had spent all day trying to decide whether you should tell him your feelings for him had changed and admit you wanted to see him more, and there he was -- already planning for your first official date.

You really needed to say something.

But someone else beat you to it.

“H!” It was Jeff. “You’ve got less than a minute until you have to get on stage, c’mon!”

Harry turned around and gave his friend a thumbs up, to let him know he had heard him, before he looked down at you again.

“Alright, duty calls I guess,” he said and gave you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Again, I’m sorry.”

And you knew you had to say something because you couldn’t let him do his final show thinking you didn’t actually want to continue seeing him. Especially when it was the opposite of what you wanted.

“Wait,” you burst out and reached for his hand to stop him from leaving. “I do. I do want to see you.”

Harry’s dimple made another appearance and there was so much more you wanted to say to him. You wanted to tell him how thankful you were to have met him. How happy he made you. How safe you felt in his company. How you could always be yourself around him. How he actually had no right to complain about your cold feet because his own were even colder.

But Jeff beat you again.

“Harry!” He shouted. “Get your ass over here!”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this right now,” Harry chuckled and pulled you a little closer, his hand still in yours.

“Probably not,” you mumbled and watched as Harry ran his fingers over your dainty little ladybug ring, before lifting your hand to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to it. His warm lips lingered for a couple seconds on your skin and you could have melted into a puddle right there and then.

“Wish me luck then,” he smiled, his lips still brushing against the skin on top of your hand.  

“You don’t need it.”

“Shhh, don’t ruin it now,” he shushed and shook his head lightly. “S’the last show. I need my ladybug luck.”

“If you need your ladybug luck,” you began quietly and pulled your hand away from his. Harry pouted and reached for your hand to have the little ladybug on your ring between you again, but you were quicker and put your arm around his waist. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

A grin broke out across his face and he didn’t waste any time before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss that filled your belly with butterflies. Warmth consumed your whole body as you leaned into the kiss and Harry smiled against your lips. You really could’ve stayed in that moment forever.

“Harry!”

Jeff called his name again.

Harry let out an excessive sigh as he broke your kiss and leaned his forehead against yours. His breath warm on your face and as he pressed his lips to yours again in a short peck you realised you were still smiling as well. 

Then he was off to do his final show. 

And despite the thousands of ear piercing screams that filled the arena as he entered the stage the sweet little “Good luck” you shouted after him was the loudest one. 

.

<3 

[argylemikewheeler]

Mike lets Will draw on his skates one time and he's caught been being extra careful with them even though they're already pretty beat up and never wanting to replace them. When he eventually does though he just lets Will draw whatever he wants on them and it becomes a Thing anytime Mike gets new skates.

DAMN okay okay okay so this is so genius. i wrote a bit (plus a visual aid lol) so it's getting a read more:

at first, mike's skates are all black and beat up, but they've got three vinyl stripes that arc from the mid-toes to the ankle. It's the only real estate will has to Doodle so he takes it very seriously. he plans for days before taking mike's right skate (his dominate and most Fucked Up one) and starts drawing little squiggles and bubbles and flowers and faces and x's and o's (shhhh! mike doesn't know what they mean). will has to go home before he starts the other side OR the left skate, but he gives it back to mike. suddenly mike's desire to get new skates flies out the window. it's like a tiny mosaic all about him, all for him. there are the faces will used to draw on his notebook in science, squiggles mike used to think were will's favorite doodles (that he pointed out and was embarrassed to learn they're just how will tests his pens), and flowers that look like the ones outside of his house... there is so much detail mike stares at it for so long. he loves them. he loves-- no.

the next day, max takes him to the skatepark and he's... hesitant. he wants to drop in, wants to try a trick, try transitions and spins but... what if he falls. sure, he has no safety gear (he refuses at this point, sure his mom has a point, but fuck his dad's lectures), but that's never bothered him before. every time he drops in he can't stop staring at his feet-- watching what might bump into his skates and smudge the marker. it was done on the vinyl stripes; one scrap against the curb and they could rip up! they could get a hole! they could wear away! god why didn't he ask will to draw on the inside-- he gets embarrassed that that's what he's upset about. he tries his usual skate routine and tries not to mind. he does mind. he ends up just doing laps in the empty hockey rink.

for his birthday, robin and steve pool their hawkins video money and buy him a really nice pair of chad valley red roller skates with the same little color stripes on the side ("a rainbow!" robin almost says but stops when steve elbows her). at first mike is hurt; how could they ask him to replace the ones with will's art. how could they not see that's the most important part of them. fuck the bearings that leak oil and wheels that are hard plastic despite his exclusive outdoor skating, fuck the torn arch of his left skate that makes turning hard now, fuck it all-- it's got his art.

when mike looks unenthused at the box, they point at it-- making him open it-- and say it's because he's all hellfire'd up recently. but all mike can notice now is that the sides are soft, they're suede-like... they're FABRIC. they can be drawn on and not smear or be wiped off. sure the drawings can be worn but the fabric will still be there, just flat and greyed-- it all can be drawn back on. it's a forever way to have will with him in the park... or at home.

he doesn't even have to ask when it's just him and will in the basement again, everyone upstairs answering karen's call for cake. he just nudges his old skate toward will and opens the box. will smiles and reaches into his bag: he already brought a marker. "max called and told me you've been scared to hurt your skates at the park," he says with a laugh. he turns the skate around in his hands, assessing his landscape. "if you liked my art so bad, you should've just said so. i can do something on canvas too, you know, mike. that lasts forever-- and you don't put your dirty feet on it." "yeah, but," mike says. "i can't take that with me everywhere. can't take you with me everywhere either. this is all i have. you're all i have."

karen calls again for mike and will to come upstairs-- they can't have cake without mike. their moment is about to be taken, about to end, when will puts the skate between his legs and quickly undoes the laces. he yanks on the tongue and bends it over. he uncaps his marker with his teeth and spits out the cap. on the inside of the skate's tongue, over the sewn in tag, he draws a heart-- fast and without any over-planning or hesitation. he ties the skate back up and puts it back in the box, standing and looking down at mike. he's red in the face, but mike imagines he is too--maybe even more so with his slack jaw and frozen-still posture. "you always have me." will says. "we promised: crazy together. i'm not going anywhere. i'll follow you anywhere."

BONUS: the skates in question...

[fluffi]

MY DETENTION BUDDY :: JAY

pairing: jay x gn!reader genre: fluff, badboy!jay, highschool!au, friends-enemies-lovers!au word count: 2k event: for @lovesick-net​​ and (early) jay day 200421 <3 author’s note: simple little one-shot for jay’s birthday (i wont be uploading anything for his actual birthday). i had to speedrun this fic because i kept changing the plot and this hasnt been proofread twice (unlike my other fics) T-T i hope it’ll still work out. warnings: (reader makes one bad decision)

Ring...ring...ring...ring..ring…

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring

Ringringringringiringringringring.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRRI-SLAM!

The alarm clock stopped its boisterous wailing

10 more minutes. I don’t have to style my hair today.

Thirty minutes passed.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI- SLAM!

Ugh. I’ll just miss assembly.

RIRIRIIRRIRIRI-

This time, the ringing stopped before he could slam his hand over the alarm clock.

“Jongseong, do you not have school today?” Jay could only make out a bush of black that stood above him as he sat up, dazed and drowsy.

“Yeah, I do. I’m about to get ready. Why?”

“It’s 9 am! You should be at school! At this point, you don’t even have to go anymore.” His mother huffed in disappointment.

It was an exaggeration, but she had a point. School started at eight in the morning. It was already an hour later but he was still sitting in bed.

“I’ll get ready now. 10 minutes. Good to go.” He shooed his mom away, already running to the bathroom to wash up.

“I’m leaving now Jay. You know darn well that I have an important meeting today and I can’t miss it just for you to not get a tardy. Heck, you’re already late! You’re-”

“Mom! I can’t walk to school! It takes too long.” Jay whined as he brushed his teeth, his muffled voice interrupting his mother’s speech.

“Young man, stop interrupting me. I told you a week ago about today’s event and it’s not my fault that my oldest son can’t take care of himself. You’re going to have to take another mode of transport, you’re old enough to deal with this yourself!” With that, his mother stormed out of his room, her feet obnoxiously thumping on the floor.

“I’m also your only son...” Jay muttered. 

Of all days, why did she have to have her meeting today? Monthly evaluations aren’t that important. Dangit, I should’ve been taught how to drive. Jay returned to his rapid multitasking, grabbing his school uniform while washing his face. He didn’t even look twice,

After taking the quickest shower he had ever taken in his entire life and shoving all of his essential (what he determined as essential, at least) belongings into his bag, he opened to door and dashed outside only to be met with…

Rain.

Rain everywhere. Drenching the front yard’s perfectly tended flower garden and creating heaps of watery mud. It was pouring at 9.15 am. There was thunder and occasional flashes of light zooming through the clouds. The city was in shambles.

Not like, shamble, shambles. It was shambles in Jay’s opinion as he groaned and stomped his way through the rain.

Screw school. Screw this stupid rain, screw my alarm clock, screw this-

“Dude, why are you running in the rain? You’re soaked. Are you heading to school?” A pink-haired boy in a red Ferrari shouted from across the street.

Jay sighed in relief, immediately running across the road to said Ferrari. “Choi Yeonjun. You are a life-saver. Could I get a ride real quick? I’ll pay back for engine fees and for soaking the inside of your Ferrari with rainwater.”

“Hop right in, and don’t worry about returning. Let’s have some fun with this baby.” Yeonjun smirked and revved the engine, swerving past cars and buildings like it was a little RPG game.

At this rate, I’ll make it to school in no time.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I guess you have to walk.”

Just as he thought things were taking a better turn, Yeonjun decides to show off his new driving skills and zooms through roads at a rapid speed, so fast that he crashed the car by a tree. It was a miracle that both of them didn’t get hurt but as far as Jay was concerned, he could worry about that some other time. This was just slowing him down on his long and tedious journey towards his form of hell.

On the bright side, the rain had stopped and the sunshine was back as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll get going to school.” Jay internally groaned and started sprinting in the direction of his school.

“Hey, at least I helped you get closer to school! Didn’t I?” Yeonjun shouted from behind and coyly smiled.

Such a boastful punk, Jay thought. “Whatever, bro!” He turned back and gave his older friend a quick wave before dashing off.

“Park Jongseong! You’re late...again.”

“I’m aware.” Jay didn’t spare his English teacher an eye and slung his backpack over the chair, about to take a seat.

“Stop giving me attitude, I’m your teacher.Why are you tardy for the fourth time this month?”

“Alarm clock.”

“Alarm clock what? Are you afraid to speak up? I don’t see you acting like this in the hallways.”

Jay looked down at his feet and sighed before side-eyeing his teacher. “Overslept, okay? Sir if you could just let me off the hook you would be able to proceed with your Shakespeare nonsense.”

The entire class snickered. It was no secret that Jay loathed Mr. Jung, the English teacher. Who didn’t? Mr. Jung treated every student in school like they were incapable toddlers and it was a wonder that anyone would dare to stand up to his stupid remarks. Jay’s carefree attitude towards his horrible teachers was one of the reasons why he earned so many fangirls.

Not like you were one, of course. You watched as he pulled his chair out and sat next to you out of the three other vacant seats at the back of the class.

Mr. Jung rolled his eyes and continued writing on the blackboard. “Also, Jongseong,” he added, “you’re wearing your school shirt the wrong way round. See you in detention for your tardiness.”

A few of the girls in a few seats in front of him whispered rapidly, although whispering didn’t stop Jay from finding out about their gossip.

“Lol! So much for being the bad boy of our grade. He looks like a wreck today.”

“I know right? I wonder what the other fangirls will think of this. Should we send the pictures to the fan club?”

The second girl giggled. “Yeah, duh. Name it jay-park-wreck-images.”

So much for my reputation. Jay could only roll his eyes as he pulled out his supplies, ignoring the camera clicks coming from the seats in front of him.

“Oh, yay. At least I’ll have a detention buddy now.”

Jay eyed you up and down like your statement was some sort of monstrosity. “Detention? You, detention? Pfft.” He laughed.

“Yeah, Jay. Me, detention. Why are you so happy about it? Glad to be stuck with another girl?”

“What, no-no. You just...don’t seem like the type to be in detention. How’d you get it?”

“This..may be kind of embarrassing, but...” You turned to the side and Jay gasped.

On the sleeve of your uniform was a...rabbit? It wasn’t too obvious as to what the marker doodle was but it was apparent that you had intentionally spent time to draw on it.

“Look, I was bored in assembly this morning and found a spare marker in my pocket! Don’t judge, we all know how bad assembly can be.” You blurted just as Jay was about to ask why you had done what you did.

“You could’ve just drawn on your hand or done something else with the marker.” Jay sighed and shook his head at your dumb decision.

“I was out of my mind, okay? Ugh, Assembly always drives me nuts. I got called out for for the horrendous ink bleed when Mr. Jung saw as I walked into the classroom. He said it ‘didn’t follow school guidelines’.”

“For once, I agree with Mr. Jung. It was a stupid choice, you know? If you didn’t draw on your uniform then you wouldn’t have to go to detention now.”

“Jay Park, the bad boy of school, is telling me to be a rule abider. Biggest twist of the century.” You rolled your eyes.

Jay frowned and turned back at you, losing that little spark in his eyes that he once kept. “I’m not a bad boy you know? I just don’t like the system in place here.”

“As if anyone is going to believe that. Go hang out with another girl of yours. I’m not here to be your toy.”

“People like you are the reason why everyone thinks I’m a bad person. I thought you were different, you know?”

You had been preoccupied with taking notes for class, but now you looked at him with squinted eyes. “Well, I am different. Different as In someone who doesn’t fall for your useless charms. Go suck up to your fangirls or something.”

Jay rolled his eyes and scooted away from you. He thought he had been lucky to meet you, but he guessed not.

You always do this, you idiot. You were so close to making a new friend.

You put your hands in your head and side-eyed Jay, who seemed to be struggling as Mr. Jung blurted out an entire unit’s summary.

The boy hadn’t brought any stationery and was definitely on the wrong page of the textbook. You figured that he was this disheveled from his absolute lack of planning but you still felt bad.

His hair was a mess, it was still damp from the rain before. If only you could help him style it…

Why do I want to touch his hair? That’s weird and gross.

You were so occupied with thinking about Jay that you realized that he was still struggling in class.

Maybe you could make things better.

“I’m sorry.”

Jay was struggling to find the page you guys were on for class when a pencil blocked his view.

“What do you want?” He said as he tried to look past your pencil swinging.

“It’s a pencil for you since I realized that your table is practically empty and you’re going to need something to take notes with for later. Also, it’s page 153, not 53.” You leaned over to help him flip the pages.

“Oh, that makes so much more sense. I was wondering why we were relearning unit 3 when finals aren’t even near yet.”

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at a relieved Jay. “So you do pay attention in class.”

“Of course I do! I’m a student. You should stop using that stereotype on me.” Jay frowned and a tinge of disappointment shadowed his face.

“Right, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to work on it, it’s rumors and assumptions that have built up over the past few years and I understand that it shouldn’t get in the way of our friendship.”

“Friendship? We have a friendship?” Jay chuckled and cocked an eyebrow up, teasing you.

Maybe it was that eyebrow slit or the weird tension that was building up between the both of you. You felt your face heat up. “I mean- yeah, friendship. Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, hun. I thought we were something more.”

“Um...best...friends?”

It was perfect timing as the bell rang and you immediately started packing things into your bag, eyes glued to the clock instead of the amused boy next to you.

Jay laughed, running his hands through his blonde locks and watching as you started running out of class, your eyes occasionally looking back at him to see if he was still staring at you.

“See you in detention!” He called, drawing the attention of your classmates.

Jay Park needs to learn how to shut his mouth. Everyone was now staring at you and you were flustered, embarrassed, shocked, and confused. The weird mix of emotions were driving you nuts. All you could muster was a little nod and you dashed out of there as fast as you could.

“Today we’re going to learn about Murphy’s Law. It is where anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

“But everything that can work, will work.” Jay raised his hand and added, sparing a glance at you jotting notes in the back of the classroom, oblivious to his reference towards you.

“You’re right Jay. Murphy’s Law works both ways. Reversing it is considered part of science…”

Today morning was a storm (figuratively and literally) and everything seemed to be going wrong for Jay. Murphy’s Law prevails. but there’s always a rainbow after the storm. You were his rainbow and his lucky charm.

2021 © fluffi

[bokutoslittlebird]

Office Sex with Todoroki Enji

Boss!Enji x Secretary!Reader

Warnings: dub/noncon, blackmail, threats, Enji’s a creep, creampie, size kink, age difference, mindbreak

Summary: Being Endeavor’s secretary was a dream come true - you often found yourself dreaming about the hero when you were in high school. When Endeavor seems to be setting off red flags, you decide the job of your dreams isn’t what you expected. Too bad your boss has decided you’ll never be able to leave him - even if he has to break you.

When you signed up to work at Endeavor's agency, you didn't expect to be accepted. Your resume wasn't anything special, just some basic past experience as a secretary, so you figured your file would be burned to ashes. Getting the job was no longer just a dream to you. You've always looked up to Endeavor, seeing him as someone who really tried and struggled to become the number one hero. Your eyes had always been drawn to the scowl on the older man, never to the smile on All Might's face. Even thinking about Endeavor's eyes looking at you made your stomach fill with butterflies.

After emailing Endeavor's current secretary about the position, you closed your laptop and decided to get ready for bed, wanting to have a good first impression tomorrow morning.

You were switching your weight on your feet, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves. The button down shirt was simple and hopefully professional enough for Endeavor. There was a dress code for you as his secretary: black pencil skirt, white buttoned blouse, black heels, and pantyhose color of your choice. You chose the only pair you owned, a black pair. The makeup was minimal, practically non-existent. Your nerves made you feel sick, like any moment you would just have to bend over and hurl. It didn't help that Endeavor's blue eyes were burning into your form. For someone with a fire Quirk, he was quite a cold man.

"You seem to understand your job quite well," his voice finally broke the staring contest silence. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "Here's a stack of papers to go through. Cases I've been in, just organize them accordingly,"

"Yes, sir," you bowed, taking the papers. Apparently, he was in a lot of cases since the last secretary quit. She had to quit due to her husband getting a new job out of the prefecture. Instead of traveling for work, she put in a notice of termination and went looking for any available person with that credentials. As you walked to the door, you felt eyes on you and it just increased your nervousness, the idea of him watching you like a hawk making you feel like you'd make a mistake under his gaze.

Once the doors were shut, you felt better, the watchful gaze gone and the little room you would be at for most, if not all, of your time here. You smiled at the sidekicks who waved at you, welcoming you to the agency. Everyone was so friendly, you hoped Endeavor was just cold at first glance, but he'd warm up to you. Eventually.

The next few days were... interesting, to say the least. First, the day you started working, Endeavor called for you to ask your opinion on what he should get for his son's upcoming birthday. You were dumbfounded, but attempted to help him with the information given. The next day, Endeavor visited you at your office, leaning over your shoulder to make sure you were doing everything correctly. It was nerve-wracking to have such a big, imposing man leaning over your shoulder. The day after, you were scolded for your dress code. Apparently, the new dress code required you to wear stockings and to increase your two-inch heel size to four-inch. You were upset and confused at the new change, your feet much preferring the shorter heels and you had to buy garters to hold up the stockings.

The way Endeavor looked at you like a piece of meat made your skin crawl, the grin he gave you predatory. It made you scared to go into work - or at least interact with the hero. The sidekicks would glance at you, never saying much about your wardrobe change, but they noticed. Endeavor noticed them noticing. You felt like an attraction in a zoo at this point, everybody staring at you. The makeup also changed; now it was red lipstick, along with simple eyeshadow and noticeable eyeliner and mascara. You felt like you were going to a party every morning when you got ready for work.

Did it stop there? You hoped it would, but it didn't. Endeavor - he repeatedly told you to call him Enji - would stop by your office before and after a patrol, giving you papers if he stopped any crime. When he didn't have any papers, he would still stop by, bringing you a coffee he had ordered from that shop down the street you loved. When you asked about the coffee shop and how he knew your order, he said it was a lucky guess. You should've known something was off then, but you brushed it aside, smiling and thanking him, bowing respectfully. His gaze was trained on you the entire time.

Endeavor would also give you strange tasks. At first, you happily did them. Now, you still did them, but you wondered why. Why did he throw his pen across his room? Why did you have to go into his office to pick it up? Handing it to him and feeling his fingers gently brush against yours gave you goosebumps the first time, you going home and squealing about it like you were back in high school. When he did it now, you felt like you needed to wash your hands. Your admiration for the hero died when you felt like he was a predator. That's when you came to a decision.

"Termination?" His ice cold gaze fell on you. You hoped he couldn't tell your knees were ready to buckle due to nerves. Nodding, you explained.

"I have recently gotten scouted for a new job" a lie, "closer to my apartment complex" another lie, "so I figured I'd put in my notice of leave. It was great working with you" again, a lie, "and I hope you are able to find another secretary," bowing again, your eyes widened when you saw the angry scowl on Endeavor's face.

"I refuse," he spat, standing from his chair. You tried to talk, but he made you freeze all over, the icy gaze fully trained on you. "You think you can come into here and decide to leave me? I have half a mind to burn your skin,"

"Excuse me?!" a squeak came out, your blood running cold at his harsh words.

"You little tease," he sneered, closer to you now. Your body finally got the hint to move, your vision turning to the door, only to find the mahogany desk of Endeavor to fill it. You hissed in pain as the impact of the hard wood and your cheek connected. "Playing around with me only to bail?"

"Endeavor, sir!" you pleaded, struggling in his grip. The heat from his body was intense, the sunset dimming the room and you knew the only source of light was from the desk lamp beside you and the flaming man above you. One large hand held your wrists behind your back, while the other one settled on your hips, sending you into a panic.

"I told you to call me Enji, little one," is all he said, not answering any of the questions you had. You felt yourself freeze at the thought of what was to come - hoping some deity would pity you. "You aren't leaving me,"

"You can't do that! I have every right-!"

"You'll never find another place to work. Ever again."

"Wh-What?" tears slipped out of your eyes, pooling against the desk. "You can't-"

"A cheap whore who quits after her boss won't sleep with her, how about that?" You can practically feel the grin on his face. "You'll never find work again. Not anywhere in Japan if I have anything to say about it, that is,"

"You're fucking sick!" You started thrashing, trying to loosen his grip somehow. Whether your future careers were ruined or not, you didn't accept any of this. "Get off!"

"Look at you, dressing so prettily for me. You think my sidekicks haven't noticed? They'd believe me wholeheartedly. You're nothing," he sneered, making you stop. He was right, of course, the sidekicks noticed your change from when you started working. They wouldn't believe any words you said if their trusted and respected boss - a hero - said otherwise. Your previous life would crash and shatter within the night without any say. The only thing you could now was accept the turn of events. "It's okay, I'll make you my special whore and nobody will be hurt. I've seen the way you look at me. Clenching your thighs together, the downward glances when you talk to me, your cute habit of twiddling your fingers. You've been dying for me to eat you up, haven't you?"

"N-No.." your tiny voice spoke, all the fight gone from it. At first, you weren't too sure it was yours. You're not even sure Endeav- Enji heard it. You felt disgusted, especially when you felt the hand on your hip move, the warm hand moving to your thighs and sliding underneath the skirt. You grit your teeth, cringing when you felt a finger rub against the panties you had on. The feeling of his rubbing you through the thin fabric made your stomach tighten - not in the way you expected. A gasp left you when he brushed against your clit, practically ghosting over the little nub.

"You say no, yet you react so sweetly to me. You really are just a stupid slut, aren't you? I said stockings were part of the dress code, not these garters," he pulled the garter and let it snap back against your skin, earning another gasp. You closed your eyes, hoping whatever would happen would happen so you could go home and get away from this nightmare. One second, your arms were behind you being bound by a large hand, then it felt like a piece of cloth had replaced it. After attempting to move your arms, you felt the fabric digging into your skin.

Instead of talking, Enji decided to continue with his exploration of your body. The finger rubbing you through your panties left, his hand pulling up your skirt over your rump, fully on display for his eyes. You fought the urge to vomit when he made a noise, a mix between a groan and a sigh, at the sight. Once again, a hand came up to your panties, rubbing your folds through the fabric while the other one palmed your cheek. A sudden ripping sound filled your ears, startling you and making you gasp as you felt your cunt suddenly exposed. Out of your periphery, you saw the white of your panties, a piece of them at least, falling out of sight onto the floor.

"I've been waiting for this. You bent over with your cunt taking in my cock. I wonder how cute you'll sound? Or will it be more slutty to accompany how you look like a whore?" He admitted, making you feel even more disgusted with him. Knowing he had fantasized about this — about him forcefully having his way with you — was downright disgusting. A large and hot object brushed against your wet folds, making your head pop up as you felt it push in. "I've just put it in— you're so fucking tight,"

"I- I'm a virgin," you finally said, wincing at the foreign intrusion. You were sure it'd hurt with any man, but Enji was bigger than average. You figured that out when watching him on television, back in your high school days when you developed a crush on the older man, thoughts of him accompanying you in those lonely nights and how large he would be. Of course, those thoughts didn't include the idea of pain with the large cock of Enji Todoroki.

"No wonder you're so tight. I'd figure my slutty secretary had been with quite a few people. I'm honored to be your first-" he suddenly thrust his hips forward, making you cry in pain as he buried himself to the hilt, "and your last,"

"Th- That's— ah!" your mind couldn't process any information except how hot and big his cock was, stretching you out farther than you ever expected. Your body rocked in rhythm with the slow, but sharp thrusts of Enji, your head hurting from the earlier treatment of being thrown on the desk. You grit your teeth, hoping to avoid any sounds from coming out, but mewls and moans would slip through, letting him know he was definitely pleasing you. Instead of pointing it out, he just grinned when your pitch rose. A particular thrust earned him an open-mouthed mewl, your eyes rolling at the sensation.

"Sounding like a proper whore, aren't you? Pathetic. You're just a whiny little bitch, aren't you?" his words hurt, they were supposed to, but the way your walls clench tighter around him, if that was possible, proved you took it a different way. "Look at you, tightening at my words. Don't you know only cute little girls get to cum? If you want to be my good little girl, you're going to need to beg like a whore,"

"Nn—“ you whined, his thrusts getting rougher and picking up the pace, pushing you closer to your orgasm. You knew it was coming, you knew it'd have to happen eventually, so you kept your mouth shut. If anything, you'd keep your stubborn pride at not obeying his every command. Too bad for you, Enji pulled out of you, leaving you to clench around nothing.

"Your pretty pussy is practically begging for my cock again. I said to beg like a whore, you stupid bitch," his chuckle was low and deep, making your chest tighten as you associated that with the better times. Feeling those butterflies after what he did made you feel sick. You whined, feeling the orgasm slowly slip away. "Beg. Like. A. Whore."

"En- Enji, please let me cum. I- I pro- promise to be a good girl. I promise. Please, just- just let me cum," you whined, feeling filthy. Your head was turned, so you got to see the downright terrifying grin that Enji sported at your words. Apparently it was enough for him because he slid his cock back into your tight, warm walls and pounded away. Your moans were more free now, your hands clenching into fists at the feeling of your orgasm building again.

"I'm sure you'd be happy— fuck— happy to milk me dry, wouldn't you?" he grunted, his own orgasm approaching. You nodded your head, shuffling your feet to try and allow for more space for Enji to fill you. The heels gave you some added height, but you still needed some more to completely feel him. Lucky for you, Enji noticed and positioned you differently, your shoes barely grazing the floor as the only thing holding you up was Enji's cock and this thrusts into your tight cunt, the squelching sounds encouraging him to go faster. Your eyes rolled back, feeling your high wash over you as you came, your walls sending Enji to cum, too. The feeling of his thick, hot cum spilling into you made you sigh, feeling full and warm.

Enji sliding out of you, setting you unsteadily onto your feet made you come back down to Earth, where you were in Endeavor's office and currently feeling his cum ooze out of your spasming cunt. You cringed in disgust, your legs shaky and unstable. The fabric binding your arms was removed, making you sigh in relief, the numb limbs falling to your side.

"Come on, get up. I'm not done with you yet," his voice made you turn, your eyes widened. He obviously was less fucked-out than you were, his cock standing tall and proud. Automatically, you went to lick your lips at the slick cock, finally seeing out thick it was. "You're gonna clean me up and then I'm going to go back to fucking you senseless and fill you up. I'm going to give reality to every fantasy about you. Now, get to licking, slut,"

And, like his good little girl, you obeyed. Getting to your knees was much more comfortable, anyways.

[sevlgi]

sugar pt. 2

requested: yes

group: mamamoo

pairing: solar x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: sugar mommy!solar, sugar baby!reader.  part 1 here!

warnings: implied sex

synopsis: You’re not so sure about how much longer you want to be Yongsun’s sugar baby.

a/n: none

word count: 1.9k

Being a sugar baby was never meant to last. You didn’t ever expect a relationship like Sooyoung and Joohyun, one that transcended deals of money and sex into a real love; Yongsun was supposed to just be the woman who bought you diamonds in exchange for a couple expensive dinners together. 

But instead, you found yourself falling dangerously quickly for someone who shouldn’t have even breathed the same air as you. You found your relationship evolving, from a simple sugar mommy and the girl she spoiled into just... girlfriends.

You were lucky enough to meet someone who felt the same way as you and would never take advantage of you in any way. Yongsun let you make all the first moves and never rushed you, which would’ve been perfect if not for the fact that in everyone else’s eyes, you were still just a sugar baby.

Joohyun smiled at you when you were led inside the hotel lobby by your girlfriend. You were gaping at the chandeliers, still self-conscious about the form-fitting Chanel gown that you wore; to be honest, you didn’t look like you’d been with Yongsun for almost 5 months. “Glad you could make it, you two.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Joohyun.” Yongsun, in contrast, was perfectly relaxed in her natural environment. You’d quickly come to learn that a coat of red lipstick and a fancy dress was enough to transform her from the gentle woman you loved into Solar, CEO of her own entertainment company. “Congratulations on the debut of your new group,” she smiled, seizing two glasses of wine off a waiter.

The other woman was about to speak when Sooyoung sidled over, slipping her hand into the crook of Joohyun’s arm like it was nothing. “Wow, Y/N, your sugar mommy’s obviously treating you well,” your best friend laughed good-naturedly, gesturing at the heavy rope of diamonds around your neck. 

She didn’t mean anything adverse, but you frowned, Yongsun’s hand tightening around yours. “Sugar baby?”

“Well, yeah,” Sooyoung shrugged. “I mean, Yongsun unnie is still buying you stuff. And you’re still... together, right?”

Your girlfriend patted your arm to stop you from opening your mouth again. “Right. Uh, if you’ll excuse us, I think I saw Byulyi somewhere, and I need to talk to her.”

As you were led away, you tugged at Yongsun’s hand. “Hey. What was that about? You should’ve let me tell her that I’m not your sugar baby anymore.”

The CEO sighed, waving mindlessly at some tall man that you vaguely recognized. “Y/N-ah. You have to realize that while I still buy you things and we’re together, no one will believe that we’re anything other than sugar mommy and baby. It doesn’t matter how many times we explain... you can’t just leave a relationship like this behind in the past.”

You quieted for a second, but you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out, “Well, maybe we should leave the entire relationship behind.”

Yongsun stared at you with startled eyes. As someone approached her, though, she had to slip the mask back on, her hand tight on yours the only indication that she did hear what you said. “Good evening, Min PD. How’re you?”

“Did you mean it?”

Your lips tightened on the rim of your glass of tea as Yongsun poured one out of her own. It was the morning after the gala; you didn’t speak in the car ride home, at least not about anything other than Joohyun’s new group, and you went straight to sleep after arriving in your apartment. It was one of the rare nights that you slept early (or at all), especially when you considered that you didn’t even go to Yongsun’s penthouse. Instead, you let yourself in in the early morning, surprised when your girlfriend was already awake. “Mean what?”

“You know damn well.” She tapped her fingernails on the glass surface of her teacup, sighing and stopping when she realized how nerve-wracking it was. “You said we should leave the entire relationship behind. You... what did you mean by that?”

“I just meant that I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore.” You set your cup down, raking your hands through your hair quickly. “I know I started this because I needed the money, but I-- but you got me a job. I earn my own money now, and I don’t need the diamonds, or the Chanel, or anything else.”

Yongsun reached for your hands, almost pouting as she said, “But baby. I like spoiling you, don’t you get it?”

“Buying me an entire store of Hermès isn’t normal spoiling,” you protested. “Normal is... buying me nice bread! Or just some nice heels for my birthday that cost less than a thousand dollars. Yongsun-ah, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Her lips opened in a soft “o” at that. Perhaps she had never really thought about how a normal relationship worked, or maybe she just qualified Hermès scarves as a normal birthday gift. Either way, you were tired of being thought of as just a sugar baby. “I get it. But I already told you, there’s no way that you can just shed the label like that,” she frowned, snapping her fingers for emphasis. 

“Then we break up.” When Yongsun opened her mouth to protest, you held your hand up to quiet her, pleading, “Hear me out, okay? We break up as sugar mommy and baby, but we continue... whatever this is in secret. After a couple weeks, we announce that we decided to just date normally. I can still come to your functions, because I know Sooyoung, and we can even have an amicable breakup!”

The brunette considered it, perfectly drawn eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I mean. It could work?”

You beamed, sitting back in your chair. “Then it’s settled! We break up.”

Yongsun still frowned. She obviously didn’t like the idea of breaking up with you at all, though you knew she’d cave eventually if only for the idea of calling you her girlfriend instead of her sugar baby. “...Fine. But you have to let me buy the new Louis collection for you in return.”

“No.” At the growing smile on the woman’s face, your eyes widened and you reached to keep her from standing and going to her extensive closet. “Yongsun--”

With the secretive glances that you and Yongsun kept exchanging at Joohyun’s next celebratory dinner, you were surprised that no one picked up on something else going on. But then again, with your seatmate hitting on you, you were sure that no one was paying much attention.

Hyesook was cute, sure. You weren’t sure exactly why she was at the dinner; she didn’t look like a CEO, but the Rolex on her wrist screamed money. And she was probably younger than Yongsun, not unattractive at all, but you despised the way he leaned towards you. “So. You and the CEO are broken up, huh?”

“Yeah.” You sipped at the company-provided alcohol to distract yourself, though not too much in case Hyesook made a move. Thankfully, you wore a high-collared shirt with pants this time, almost looking like a CEO yourself with the flamboyant Gucci tag on the neck of the jacket. “It was amicable, we’re still close.”

“I’m sure.” She gulped at her own wine, and you sent panicked eyes at Sooyoung’s back across the table, your best friend laughing at something that the man behind her said. “You’re in the market, then? For another sugar mommy? I might not make as much as Kim Solar, but I can easily spoil you just as well. Or better.”

You winced and tugged a plate of crackers towards yourself. Your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen, nor Joohyun or anyone else you recognized. “I’m not, actually. Learned my lesson, don’t really want to rely on someone for money again.”

“I wouldn’t ask much.” Hyesook’s eyes felt invasive, even as they just remained on your face. “Dinners, maybe a couple nights. A quick fu--”

“Excuse me. What’s going on here?”

A relieved breath almost escaped you when you felt a familiar pair of hands on your shoulders. Yongsun stood tall in her heels, a smooth smile on her face concealing her brimming anger. Hyesook waved offhandedly, moving to grab your free hand. “Just getting to know each other.”

You snatched your hand away at the same time that Yongsun batted the other woman’s hand away. “From my point of view, my girlfriend isn’t enjoying it. And I won’t tolerate that at my best friend’s company dinner.”

Hyesook raised her eyebrows, smirking as she leaned back. “Girlfriend, huh? And here I thought I was flirting with a free woman,” she shook her head. “Pity.”

Yongsun scoffed, “Yeah, girlfriend. Do you have a problem with that? Because I’m sure that Yoongi won’t hesitate to fire you if I have a quick chat with him about your behavior.”

Yoongi. A producer then, you noted, standing and placing your hand on your girlfriend’s shoulder. “Come on, Yongsun. Let’s go,” you mumbled, flashing a sarcastic smile at Hyesook as you walked away. “You shouldn’t just...”

“What? Defend you?” For once, Yongsun almost looked angry, her crimson lips pinched tight and her eyes narrow, though you knew her too well to be scared at whatever she planned to do. “I promise you, Y/N, I won’t let anyone violate you.”

Before you could ask what she meant, the two of you were standing in the very center of the dinner hall, the other woman’s hands on her hips and her voice commanding. “Everyone, if you would give me your attention for a second.”

Your cheeks flushed when all the voices and conversations quieted, eyes turned upon you as Yongsun spoke. “As I’m sure you know, Y/N was once my sugar baby. I gave-- and still give-- expensive gifts, and that seems to make all of you think that she is still just that. A sugar baby.”

Joohyun’s smile almost blinded you from a couple tables away, but it served as reassurance to not melt into the floor like a puddle as your girlfriend continued on. “From now on, I would like all of you to remember that Y/N is my girlfriend. I love her, more than anything in this world, and I will not tolerate any kind of disrespect towards her or our relationship.”

A whoop sounded, probably belonging to Sooyoung, and Yongsun switched to a grin as she clasped your hand in hers. When it became apparent that she had finished, quiet applause sounded in the audience and the chatter resumed, though you saw Hyesook slink off through a door somewhere.

When you turned back to her, Yongsun’s smile was a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Y/N-ah... I don’t know if that was okay for me to say.”

Instead of answering, you cupped her face in your hands and pressed your lips to hers softly. You almost bent over backwards with how strongly Yongsun reciprocated, a breathy giggle escaping you. “It was more than okay. Thank you, actually.”

“Now, should we get to telling Yoongi about his employee’s indecency?” At your obviously coming protest, Yongsun started pulling you towards the producers’ table, laughing as she did. “No excuses, Y/N. I love you~”

[cursestothemoon]

Valentine’s Day Blurb

FRED WEASLEY

Warnings: none

Fred Weasley was never one to remember things that weren’t of absolute dire necessity. Birthdays, anniversaries, things of such nature he could get by with but if you were to ask him trivial things like, for example, Valentine’s Day he’d be a bit lost. His usual response to the question being ‘sometime in February��, or ‘when the women get rowdy’ that would earn him a questioning gaze.

So when Fred woke up this morning in a more chipper mood than usual, insisting to go pick up a few muffins and some tea before work, George made no move to dissuade him and instead offered a thumbs up and a knowing smirk. Fred paid no mind to his brother’s odd behaviour then, but as he stood in a crowd of people all pushing and shoving to get into the cafe or the next door flower shop Fred thinks it might’ve been smart to question George before he left.

“Awfully busy, isn’t it?” He made the comment to no one in particular, though a short man with a round belly and frantic lok took it upon himself to answer.

“Cause it’s Valentine’s Day, you knobhead. Pity your girlfriend…”

Fred turned around to snap at the insult but as he did it seemed the man had disappeared into the crowd, leaving Fred with a slack jaw and raised expression looking as though he was just about to start talking. He brushed it off and continued to fight his way to the cafe, it was rather new to Diagon Alley and Fred should’ve expected there to be a line.

Though his rapidly deteriorating mood seems to lift exponentially at the sight of someone just a few people ahead of him in line. He’d never seen her before, he was certain he would’ve remembered if he had. She paid no mind to him, though why would she? She was ahead of him in line and probably buying something for a significant other. And suddenly Fred felt grouchy all over again, the long line, and now the pretty girl he just had to see on Valentine’s Day probably buying breakfast for her partner.

‘Some person that must be’ Fred thought, ‘a girl like that should not be buying anyone anything, they should be buying it for her’

In his head his tone was snarky, the thought of the beautiful stranger going home to someone undeserving made his face contort into an expression reminiscent of a child eating a lemon. But with a shake of his head, he willed himself to get his mind off the girl and her subpar relationship that he had drawn up in his mind.

The line moved quickly and Fred was next to order, the mystery girl gathering her single cup and muffin bag getting ready to walk out of the cramped cafe. He walked up to the till, reciting the order he’d grown to memorize over the years: two black teas, one with a splash of milk the other with two and two chocolate pumpkin muffins. With a nod of his head Fred shoved his wallet into the back pocket of his trousers and moved to wait for his things.

As Fred stood idle, he let his mind wander, yet again, to the woman who stood here just seconds before who was now walking out of the door, a single cup and muffin in hand.

One cup

One muffin bag

His eyes lit up almost comically at the possibility of her not being in a relationship with some git, but his face fell just as fast when he realized he’d probably never see her again anyway. Fred grabbed his and George’s drinks and muffins with a grumbled ‘thank you’, and walked to the door. He was still grumbling to himself when he pushed the door open and turned right to make his way back to the flat, only he didn’t get very far.

The force of something knocking into him was enough to have the two drinks in his one hand topple over, but he managed to save the muffins. The gasp, however, made him think the person he ran into wasn’t so lucky.

“My muffins!”

He looked at the person, who was knocked to the ground, and nearly dropped his own muffins. The girl, the same one in the cafe, was sitting on the floor cover in not only her drink- which Fred was sure was a coffee- but also George’s and his; not to mention her two muffins rolled away from the bag she had dropped in her fall.

Two muffins

Fred felt the familiar scrunch of displeasure contort his face, maybe she did have someone, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

“I am terribly sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” Fred said, crouching down to help the girl up only to have her refuse his help.

“I’ve got it.”

He still put a hand on her elbow to guide her up, his mother teaching him his manners from an early age.

Y/n looked up at the stranger and felt the air get knocked out of her again, he was beautiful. Doe eyes, red hair, large stature, it could’ve been worse.

“Y/n L/n.” She introduced herself, hand shooting out.

Fred took her hand gently, giving it a soft shake before dropping it, “Fred Weasley, and I am very sorry. I’d love to buy you another coffee.”

He watched as she pretended to think for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips, “And muffins?”

“And muffins.” Fred laughed. “Though I don't know how well my heart would take it if you were to take my apology muffin home to a waiting boyfriend.”

Fred watched her laugh as she pulled out a wand to clean her shirt and his- he hadn’t even noticed the mess on his shirt- and shake her head.

“No I was just hungry, your heart can go another day.” She smirked, walking back into the cafe with Fred.

She was perfect, he was sure of it, and he’d make sure to dial up the charm.

“Oh I’m not so sure about that.”

Y/n hummed in response, “Oh? And whatever could I do to remedy that?”

Fred felt his lips tug up into a smile at the undeniable chemistry between them and how easily they had clicked. She matched his energy perfectly, he was already certain.

“Consider this our first date?”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

[lacrimaomnis]

BRF Reading, 20/7/2021 (Part 1 of 3)

Background: This is the one question that drives me to pick up the tarot and learn to read myself. Some of you might be reminded of three spreads @celticcrossanon did on Archie, and yes, this is partly inspired by those spreads. I asked this question again because the first time I tried to read about it, I got the feeling of my stomach churning and it was so bad I wanted to throw up, so I thought: there must be something. Am I scared to do this reading the entire time? Yes, I am very much scared because I'm afraid the cards will show me something I don't want to see. But as you can see, the curiosity killed the cat. I am that cat.

A fair warning though, this reading might veer into the conspiracy theory realm. Is it hard to believe? It is. Just because I read tarot doesn't mean I believe in conspiracies. I find it difficult to believe what I read because it challenges all the established facts that were particularly established by the existence of the birth certificate.

This is the first of three spreads.

As written, this is merely a speculation and therefore must be taken with a grain of salt. This speculation is not true until proven otherwise.

My question is, does Lili exist?

Cards drawn: Page of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, Page of Swords, Four of Wands, Five of Cups, Eight of Cups, Page of Cups Underlying energies: Nine of Wands, Queen of Cups

Summary: I have my "yes, I do exist!" card, which is the Page of Swords, but with it came another two Pages. This reading is confusing at best and is just nonsense straight out of the realm of conspiracy theory at worst.

First card: Page of Pentacles. As a birthday card, in my deck, this card is associated with birthdays between December 22 to December 28. Zodiac wise, Pentacles represent the earth signs: Taurus, Virgo, or Capricorn. If we are to believe the information given to us, Lili was born on 4th June, which means she is an air sign, particularly Gemini -- but this card as the first card drawn immediately made me doubt if she is indeed delivered on 4th June because this card suggests otherwise.

This card suggests to me that Lili is a Capricorn because this card is associated with birthdays between December 22 to 28, but that just does not make sense. If she was delivered on 4th June, and assuming all are normal (9 months pregnancy, nothing is out of the ordinary), then she should've been conceived at least 9 months before June, which should be around September last year. Barring anything that could go wrong, it is impossible to have her born in December, just 3 months after being conceived -- because if she was indeed born in December last year, she doesn't exist, the woman who carried her miscarried.

What is not impossible, however, if she is delivered later than 4th June. Here is where I veer into the realm of conspiracy theory. My understanding of how each person is assigned into a zodiac is rudimentary at best, so please do bear with me. If this card is to be believed, then Lili should have been born around December 22 to 28 this year. If again, we assume normal pregnancy for whoever carried her (9 months, no early delivery, yadda yadda), then she should've been conceived around March this year. This interpretation implies that Lili is still not here yet. Which is impossible, because we have her birth certificate.

Whichever theory you choose to believe, neither of them makes sense to me. Both are equally impossible. I ruminate a lot around this card because this is the card in the first position, and for me, anything than the Page of Swords in the first position indicates an answer other than "yes, she exists". I think I even remember the controversies around the supposed birth certificate, but the only thing I remember from it is that Harry was listed as HRH something something.

Second card: Queen of Pentacles. Who are you? What are you doing here? How do you relate to this reading? If you are not Meghan, then who are you?

Queens typically represents feminine energy, and Queen of Pentacles is the ultimate embodiment of a motherly figure. She is practical, secure, motherly, and wise. In my deck, she is illustrated as a woman wearing a crown and holding a rabbit inside her arms; a symbol of fertility and family.

I was just...who are you? You are a woman of the earth signs. You are not Meghan. Are you the surrogate people have been seeing in their cards and have been suspecting? Do you confirm to me (even when I don't ask) that Lili is born from your womb and not Meghan's? What do you want to tell me? Are you even a person? My gut says you represent someone, but who are you?

Third card: Page of Swords. This is the absolute "yes, I do exist!" card for Lili if she is indeed born on 4th June. Sadly, this card is not the first card of this spread -- that spot was filled with the Page of Pentacles. Page of Swords is the card of "words and ideas" rather than "feeling and intuition". She (the pages in my deck are all drawn as young women) is associated with messages and messengers and can also manifest as gossip, which made me think about the buzz around Lili's birth. There were a lot of hearsays and speculation before and after her birth, particularly because of the distasteful choice of the name her parents given her.

Now, in my reading, there are several Cups cards (Five, Eight, the Page). If this card comes up with several Cups cards, this card is particularly hard about honesty. This caused me to think: is there any dishonesty on Meghan's part from the announcement of pregnancy and until Lili is born?

Fourth card: Four of Wands. Again, this card seems to come up a lot lately. This card is closely associated with the elements of home and family. It is about a new life, new success, and prosperity. In this spread, this card is about the "immediate future".

Fifth card: Five of Cups. This is the pair for the Four of Wands. This is the card of grief, loss, and negative thinking. This card signifies difficulty and loss, and as it is the pair of the Four of Wands, could this signify that the loss was about a family member? An element of home?

The only thing I can think of is that the readings saying either whoever that carried Lili miscarried or something happened to Lili that involves a loss so difficult that Meghan mourned as if she lost Lili.

Sixth card: Eight of Cups. The card of walking away, leaving the situation, and leaving things behind. This card heralds change and transition, prompted by dissatisfaction, unhappiness, or because it is that time to take that leap of faith. This could mean turning away from a present situation even if you have invested a lot of money and energy into it, just because it is time to move on.

This card comes in pair with the Page of Swords. This may tell us that we will hear of new rumours surrounding this child to turn our attention away from the distasteful choice of her name (which is entirely her parents' fault, she is in no way responsible for something she didn't have the power to choose) -- that book by Harry? An alternative interpretation is that Lili is left behind, people walking away from her because she disappointed them, whatever the reason was. I really really hope this was not the case.

Seventh card: Page of Cups. This card is about creativity, new projects, and inspiration, but also about immaturity, escapism, and emotional troubles. This card comes as the pair of the Queen of Pentacles: if the Queen of Pentacles is the surrogate, could this mean that carrying Lili caused her turmoil and emotional troubles?

Underlying energy 1: Nine of Wands. This is the card of being wounded, to hold your ground, and of resilience. This card often indicates that the querent must hold their ground against all the challenges thrown their way. This card may also speak of a recent illness. Was Lili ill? Is she ill? Was whoever carried her suffered from illness?

Underlying energy 2: Queen of Cups. This is the card of virtue, fertility, creativity, success, and power, but also of an inability to connect emotionally, a lack of empathy, and stress -- and this is coming across as Meghan. She perhaps might be stressed, she might perhaps is in a disconnect with Lili? If looked at from the Queen of Pentacles angle, the Queen of Cups further emphasised that Meghan, represented by the Queen of Cups here, might not be fertile or healthy enough to carry Lili full term, which further reinforces the Queen of Pentacles represents the surrogate analysis. Combined with the Nine of Wands, I am inclined to say that either Meghan is in distress and might not be able to connect with Lili, who needed her mother the most at these moments, or that Meghan might not be healthy or fertile enough to have a baby and carry it full term.

Conclusion: This reading tells me absolutely nothing I want to hear, but rather it makes me question things that are already established (I'm looking at you, Page of Pentacles). Nothing makes sense. I got an answer to a question I didn't even ask (that Queen of Pentacles) if that counts as an answer. Just as I feared, the cards showed me something I did not want to see, because I don't see anything that tells me "yes, this baby exists, she is healthy, and she is loved by her parents".

[hermannsthumb]

established relationship prompt: "Newton, darling, would you be a dear and eat my arse?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMANN!!! obvious maybe but not sfw below the cut lmaoooo. WHEW I managed to finish by midnight!

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

Birthdays have never really been the sort of thing Hermann has cared much about. Growing up, they were largely uneventful and unexciting, mostly ignored (if not outright forgotten) by his family, and in adulthood mostly ignored and forgotten by Hermann himself. After all, it’s become rather difficult to look forward to the passing of another year when the odds are growing exponentially higher humanity won’t live to see another, and equally difficult to celebrate the extension of one’s life when so many others have been lost. The very notion makes Hermann feel guilty. For those reasons Hermann has never marked his birthday down on a calendar in his time at the Shatterdome in any capacity, nor has he verbally acknowledged it to anyone. Certainly not to Newton.

It makes the hand-drawn card and small cake he finds on his desk the morning of June 9th all the more surprising. He does not need to read the card to know who the gifts are from. Newton’s distinctive handwriting and little crayon-doodled kaijus aside, Newton is quite obviously watching Hermann over his workbench for his reactions as Hermann inspects the cake. “How did you know?” Hermann finally says.

Newton feigns looking up at him in surprise. “Know what?” he says.

Hermann waves the card. “That it’s my,” he pauses, then continues, his mouth curling down with distaste at the word, “birthday?”

“Lucky guess,” Newton says. Hermann taps his finger impatiently on his cane, and Newton begins to tug off his work gloves with an eye roll. “Okay, I maaaaybe snooped through some of your employee records a little while back. But it was for totally valid reasons, dude. Relationship status, number one, birthday number two. How else was I gonna know all the important shit about you?”

“You could’ve asked,” Hermann says. He supposes this must’ve occurred right before Newton approached him in the laboratory a few months ago and asked him if he’d like to have sex. Hermann didn’t regret saying no at the time, and he still doesn’t, really, but he should’ve known Newton would be the…sentimental sort. Too affection-starved to let their convenient arrangement remain just that. At least he hasn’t thrown Hermann a party. “Besides. Did it ever occur to you I was keeping such things private for a reason?”

“You keep everything private,” Newton says. “I don’t even know your favorite color.”

“Most people don’t,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, but, you’re not—” Newton shakes his head, and lowers his voice, “—sleeping with most people. I mean, maybe you are, I don’t know, do whatever you want, man. I just mean—I want to know shit about you. Like your birthday. Since we’re—yeah.”

“I see.” Hermann sniffs. “Well. How terribly considerate of you.”

The sarcasm is unfortunately lost on Newton; he merely preens, and grins at Hermann, happy even to accept the smallest inkling of a compliment. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, what do you want to do tonight?”

Hermann expects he will do what he always does tonight, which is work late, eat dinner (usually cold by the time he clocks out) late, shower (also cold by the time he clocks out), and then go to bed. Though he supposes he’ll have to figure out what to do with the absurd little cake by then, as he doesn’t have a refrigerator in his bunk in which to store it. “Nothing much, I imagine,” he says.

“Really?” Newton says. “I was thinking we could wrap up early and head out somewhere fun for dinner. I was Googling cool places nearby that haven’t been, like, destroyed by kaiju yet. Or we could just get drinks. Or I also have drinks back in my room, and we could order pizza or something, so we don’t have to go out at all.”

“We?” Hermann says. Of course, Hermann ought to have known that sentimentality would also dictate he and Newton spend Hermann’s birthday together. All on account of a few, er, stress-relieving and completely emotionless liaisons every now and then. None of Hermann’s previous sexual partners (a rare handful, but existent nonetheless) have ever insisted on spending his birthday with him, and they’ve certainly never bought Hermann a card or cake, either. It would feel far too—well—intimate. What Hermann would only expect from a long-term partner. It’s really rather presumptuous of Newton to assume Hermann has any interest in celebrating with him. “Newton, really, it’s not—”

“Or we don’t have to have dinner at all,” Newton says quickly. “You could come over, and we can just…”

Do what they typically do when Hermann goes to Newton’s bunk, he expects. Hermann clears his throat. “You really have done quite enough for me already today,” he says. "I don't think—well—" He fidgets, scraping his cane across the floor, glancing back down at the cake and card. Newton has clearly handmade the cake as well: the frosting is colored a rather eye-searing shade of blue, layered on messily, and the Happy Birthday Hermann! written in yellow across it is cramped at the end, as if Newton did a poor job of space management. It is rather sweet of him. Hermann finds his heart softening just a bit towards his odd lab partner. "Oh, alright," he says, and Newton perks up happily. "But I'd rather not do anything too, er, fancy for dinner."

"Ha!" Newton says. "Awesome! Come over at six?"

Six means that Hermann will have to leave the laboratory no later than fifty-thirty if he wishes to shower and prepare himself for any sort of activity that may arise between them while they sit alone in Newton's bunk. Five-fifteen, if Hermann is being realistic, as he knows he will spend at least twenty minutes fussing over his appearance (wondering if he ought to shave away the few almost-clear pieces of stubble on his chin, smoothing back his hair, critically eyeing up his bony chest) as he always does upon the evenings when Newton invites him over. Hermann would like to protest and remind Newton that he does need to get some work done, but he really can't find it in himself, especially not when he knows Newton will put up a fuss and try to argue Hermann out of it anyway. "Six," Hermann agrees. He supposes he could use an early night in. Besides, it might be nice to treat his birthday as something special this year.

-------

Hermann arrives at Newton's bunk promptly at six. In lieu of dinner, which Hermann did not really expect they would be having, Newton (stripped down to a faded pair of boxer shorts and a white undershirt) leads Hermann over to his bed, sets his cane aside, lays him on his back, and begins to kiss him before either of them exchange a single word. It's rather more gently than Hermann is used to from Newton. Their liaisons are typically of the fast and rough sort, spurned on by fierce arguments and a need to outdo each other in everything, even sex. He can't say gentle doesn't feel nice. "What do you want to do?" Newton mumbles against his mouth.

"Do?" Hermann says. Are they not already doing something?

As Newton begins to kiss and stroke his fingers across Hermann's neck, Hermann finds his gaze wandering to the cinderblock ceiling of Newton's bunk. Everything feels rather nice and hazy. Newton's skin is warm and still slightly damp from a shower of his own, and each time Hermann inhales, he is nearly overwhelmed by the strong scent of Newton's body wash, unique, as far as Hermann knows, to only him on the Shatterdome base. Newton scorns the standard PPDC-issued kind, claiming that it irritates his skin, and so orders his own online once every few months. A funny little habit of his. Hermann is far less picky. "You're the birthday boy," Newton says. He flicks open Hermann's top button and nips at his collarbone. "Do you want to fuck me tonight? Or I could fuck you?" He speaks in short bursts, sentences stolen between pecks to Hermann's lips and punctuated by further nips to Hermann's throat. "I know we've only done it those ways a few times. But it's, like, a special occasion. And we have lots of time. I got new lube. Just in case. It got good reviews online?"

Hermann shivers pleasantly each time Newton says fuck. Newton's voice is far from sensual, Hermann must admit, but he is bold in voicing those sorts of desires in a way Hermann could never hope to be, and so it affects him as if Newton had purred the words. He secretly loves how crass Newton can be in bed—begging Hermann to fuck him harder, telling Hermann how much he loves fucking him, gripping at Hermann's hair and whining fuck, fuck, fuck while Hermann works his mouth over Newton as best he can. Hermann is not sure what he wants, and he's not sure what he wants from Newton tonight, either. "I don't know," he confesses. Newton kisses his mouth again, pressing his tongue in clumsily, and Hermann's eyelids flutter, the ceiling growing hazy. "Newton," he groans.

Newton's breaths are coming out in short, excited pants, and his fingers fumble over the next button on Hermann's shirt. Hermann suddenly feels foolish for changing into a fresh shirt and pair of slacks after his shower and not just his pajamas as Newton has. Foolish, and impatient with himself. It'll take Newton longer to strip him down to his bare skin.

"If you don't want to do all that I could just jerk us off a little," Newton says. He inches his hand down to the front of Hermann's slacks, rubbing against Hermann's zipper as clumsily as he'd kissed him. It's far too rough and graceless to be truly arousing, but it's Newton doing it to him, so Hermann pushes into his palm anyway. He feels Newton smile against his skin. "Or anything. Seriously. I wanna, like, make you feel good."

At once Hermann knows what he wants, and the need for it seizes him so tightly that he flushes brilliantly and bites down on his lip to keep from blurting it out and making a fool of himself. (It would hardly be healthy for Newton's already inflated ego if he knew just how badly Hermann wants him.) Newton has done it for him only two or three—well, three or four—times before, and each time has left Hermann an incoherent, trembling wreck upon the sheets. And no one does it to him the way Newton does; their arrangement is not technically monogamous, as that would require an admission of deeper feelings which neither of them are willing to make (and which are entirely nonexistent on Hermann's part), but Hermann has long since stopped seeking sex from anyone but Newton after a disappointing experience with a handsome j-tech who simply had no idea how to use his mouth effectively. Hermann likes to think Newton's is more skilled for the sheer fact that he never stops running it. "Newton," he says, falsely calm, stammering only slightly when Newton gropes at the length of his prick through his layers. "Newton, would you—would you be a dear, and eat my arse? Of course," he adds in a rush, "if it's too much trouble, don't—"

"Dude, of course," Newton says, smiling down so sweetly at Hermann that Hermann's heart twists in his chest. "No problem. I have the extra pillows in my closet, lemme get them." He slips to his feet, but hesitates. "Do you want to me finish—I mean, like, your shirt, and your pants, and—"

"I can do it," Hermann says.

Newton nods, and stumbles over to his closet to dig around for the spare pillows while Hermann makes fast work of his clothing. He finds himself strangely unwilling to part with his undershirt tonight. Not out of any lack of desire for Newton to see him naked, but rather out of a strange bashfulness at the idea of being fully on display for him. Which is really quite silly of Hermann. Newton has seen him naked countless times, both in his own bed and in the laboratory decontamination shower after some (Newton-induced) accident or another. It is only when Newton returns with the pillows that Hermann finally tosses the undershirt to the floor with the rest of his clothing. He's embarrassed to see his pink flush spreading down his bare chest, and hopes Newton does not notice it. What on Earth is wrong with him tonight? "You look hot," Newton says, sweeping his eyes up and down Hermann's body. He's still wearing his glasses. "Um. Pillows?"

"Yes," Hermann says.

Newton arranges the pillows in the way he and Hermann typically do when they engage in this particular activity, with enough support beneath Hermann's lower back, left hip, and left knee that he won't strain himself. As he parts Hermann's thighs and kneels between them, Hermann suddenly wishes that he was laying on his stomach instead. He does not want to watch Newton, nor does he want Newton to be able to watch him, for he feels twice as aroused and twice as overwhelmed tonight and he's sure neither will help that; the idea of falling apart under Newton's gaze is so tremendously mortifying that he almost asks Newton to turn him over. But then Newton is pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, and dragging his marvelous tongue across the sensitive skin there, behind Hermann's prick... "Oh, Newton," Hermann gasps, and Newton gently tucks Hermann's right leg over his shoulder, "oh, yes, Newton—"

He hides his whimpers behind his left hand as Newton licks and mouths at him hungrily, and fists his right hand in Newton's hair when Newton curls the tip of his tongue and begins to tease at him. "More," Hermann begs, breathless, pressing himself down on Newton's tongue to feel as much of it as he possibly can. His prick is stiff against his stomach. Newton laughs, and Hermann feels it vibrate within him. "Ah—more, please—"

"Uh-huh," Newton says. His glasses are fogging and crooked on his nose, and when he nods they slip down a centimeter. His tongue prods more insistently at Hermann, almost (but not quite) hard enough to breach into him, and Hermann bites down on his knuckles to contain another whimper. Newton hasn't even put a single bloody finger in him yet, and Hermann needs to calm himself down if he wishes to last until he does.

Then Newton sucks at him, moaning, and (his back arching, his eyelids fluttering) Hermann finds himself unable to hold off any longer. He squeezes his thighs on either side of Newton's head and cries out, "Newton—"

Newton swoops up to catch his release in his waiting mouth and swallows it all down. He presses a kiss to Hermann's inner thigh as Hermann trembles and shakes, and Hermann feels rather than hears him mumble something into his skin he can't quite make out. He follows it with another kiss, sweeter than the last, before crawling back up and dropping next to Hermann on the mattress. He watches Hermann catch his breath with soft eyes. "Please," Hermann says when he finds himself able. His voice is terrifically hoarse. "Let me—for you—" He gestures vaguely at the front of Newton's boxers and hopes Newton understands what he means.

But Newton shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it. I know how lazy you get after you finish."

Hermann feels as if he ought to be affronted, but Newton says it with such obvious affection, and strokes his fingers through Hermann's sweat-damp hair so soothingly Hermann can do nothing but lean in to his touch happily. And Newton is not wrong, really. Hermann's eyelids are already beginning to droop. He imagines he'll be dozing any minute now. Newton winds an arm around his shoulders and draws him closer, and Hermann nearly shivers from the warmth his body exudes. "Thank you," Hermann murmurs. He's about to lay his head on Newton's shoulder and allow himself to doze when he realizes he ought to ask for permission first. Newton may still wish to go out to the mess hall and eat dinner, after all, and he may not want Hermann hanging around here. "Er—I don't suppose you would consider letting me sleep here? Only for tonight."

"Of course, dude," Newton says. "Not just tonight, any time you want. Seriously. I'm kinda—well, nevermind." He presses a kiss to Hermann's temple, and Hermann does not find out what he kind of is. "Happy birthday."

"Mm," Hermann says, shutting his eyes.

Newton strokes his hair until he falls asleep.

[deerixiie]

description: one by one, love stole the people oikawa cared about the most. it stole him, too.

pairings: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

w/c: 1.6k

genre/warning: angst, hanahaki au, major character death, mentions of blood, body horror?

a/n: this is a one day late birthday present for the wonderful @wanderynn!! rae ily don’t kill me for writing oikawa angst for your birthday

Oikawa was nervous.

Which was odd, because he had been in situations like this before. Interviews required being asked questions he was expected to answer, after all.

But those were interviews. This was a therapy session.

Oikawa’s gaze dropped down at his hands, slightly worn from years of slapping a volleyball with his entire strength. Those same hands that had slapped a ball with spine-chilling intensity were the same hands that gently caressed your cheek, the same hands that easily intertwined with yours, the same hands that tilted your chin up with every kiss he placed on your lips.

Oikawa’s eyes started to burn.

The therapist seated in front of him continued to tap away on the computer, her face devoid of any emotion. She seemed to be satisfied with whatever was behind the screen and swiveled around to face him, a disgustingly fake smile on her face.

(Oikawa would know, his smiles were fake as well. Slightly strained, a little too bright to be genuine.)

“So, Oikawa-san,” the therapist said, making eye contact with him.

“Oikawa is fine.”

“Oh, alright. So, Oikawa, how are you feeling?”

Tired. Numb. Odd. Guilty.

“Fine.” The fake smile came easily.

“Ah, okay. Is this your first experience with Hanahaki?”

No, of course it wasn’t. He was told that being well-known meant people will fall in love with him. “It’s not your fault, Tooru,” they said. “Some people fall in love very easily.” Oikawa remembered snorting, thinking that no one could possibly fall in love with him just because he was charming and good-looking.

He was wrong.

(It started with Ume, the bubbly girl in his second year of middle school. Then Riko and Akika in his first year of highschool, one other girl he didn’t remember the name of in his second year, and Mizuki in his third.

Only three of them had settled on getting amnesia and forgetting Oikawa entirely instead of dying. The adoring gazes he was once plagued with became empty stares.

But Riko didn’t. Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to her funeral; he knew the only stares he would get would be accusatory ones.)

The therapist continued. “And I mean, not just from being a celebrity, but with people close to you.”

Oikawa suddenly found it difficult to breath. He saw the flash of spiky dark hair, of rude nicknames and harsh shoulder slaps.

(“I’ll be alright.”

“Iwa, you’re dying!”

“I said I’ll be alright.”

Oikawa was in Argentina when Iwaizumi died. “He had a severe coughing fit on the street that made him pass out,” they told him. “He was dead before they could put him in an ambulance.”

Oikawa cried for hours.)

“Yes,” Oikawa said quietly. “A close friend of mine died from it.”

“Oh.” The therapist’s smile faded away. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, flashing his brightest of smiles.

The therapist’s expression became more serious. “Dealing with that much loss must be hard.”

Oikawa didn’t respond. What does he even say to that?

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

About Iwaizumi? No, about you. Oikawa’s smile was smaller, obviously less genuine. “No, not really.”

“Well, uhm…” the therapist drummed her fingers against her thigh. “Were you two close?”

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie. The lines between the two of you had been gray and blurred. Were the intoxicated kisses at two in the morning really love, or just drunken lust? Being tangled up under the covers as you lazily slept on top of the other wasn’t necessarily romantic, was it? You held his hand because you were afraid of losing him in the crowd, not because you loved him, right?

(Wrong.)

“Even if we were friends, we were closer than most friends were.”

“Ah.” The therapist typed something on her computer. “How did you find out?”

“Come again?”

“When she was diagnosed. How did you find out it was you she was in love with?”

“Oh.” Oikawa looked out the window. It seemed to be on the cusp of fall and winter, bare branches and freezing temperatures but no snow.

He found himself smiling. You hated the snow.

“She told me a couple hours before she died.”

The therapist sucked in an audible breath. “What was that like?”

Oikawa swallowed slowly. “We were sitting together, watching a movie or something like that. She had a coughing fit.”

(He remembered how weak you looked pressed up next to him, your knees drawn to your chest, your eyes hollow and empty, your body thin and frail. Your coughing fits were violent, more violent than most. Tissues and handkerchiefs followed you wherever you went, stained with shriveled, bloody petals.)

“She told me it was me. I didn’t understand her at first, but she was saying it was me over and over. And then I understood. Six hours later, she died.”

“Is that all?”

No. “Yes.”

“So you didn’t really have much time to think about it before she passed, but it must have made you feel guilty. That’s why you’re here today.”

Oikawa nodded.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Oikawa.”

That’s what they all said. But he couldn’t help it, could he? He saw you sprawled on the ground in a pool of crimson, serene white petals decorating the floor like it was some sort of aesthetic arrangement. You looked so unbelievably peaceful, finally freed from the death vice of your unrequited love for him.

Love for him.

Oikawa was blind. He was desperate. He was so desperate for affection that he accepted your kisses and touches with open arms, disregarding the fact that you could be in love with him. Pure, inhumane lust drew him to you, trailing his hands down your arms, pressing his lips against your skin. He was a monster.

“Oikawa, I take it that you’ve heard of PHH?”

(PHH - (Purple Hyacinth Hanahaki) A branch of hanahaki originating from guilt over the death of a loved one; usually one who had died a hanahaki-related death from being in love with them.”

Oikawa’s nose had wrinkled reading the definition off of his health textbook. “That can happen?” He asked, glancing over at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi shrugged and continued to fill out his homework. “Love is confusing.”

“If it’s this confusing I’m never going to fall in love!” Oikawa huffed. “Love is stupid!”

“That’s what you’ll say now, Stupidkawa. I bet you’re falling in love first.”

“Hey, Iwa-chan, not true!”

The world was an ironic, cruel place.)

Oikawa’s heart pounded in his chest, an ominous countdown. (Countdown to a diagnosis? Countdown to his death?) He nodded once. “I know about it.”

The therapist drums her nails on her desk, echoing his already racing heart. A sympathetic look passed on her face. “You might be at risk for that, Oikawa.”

Oikawa found his eyes drifting over to the window once more. He spotted a lone orange leaf clinging to the end of a tree branch, persisting even as the wind violently shook the branch.

(Your body shaking violently as you clung to Oikawa’s arm, whispering “it’s you” over and over, a mantra that would haunt him even in death.

Death. It was coming sooner now, wasn’t it?)

Another violent shake, and the leaf spiraled to the ground.

(Ghostly empty eyes, mouth slightly parted as blood dribbled from the corner. Your arms were wrapped around nothing, as if in those last moments of life you were holding something tight to your chest, a last connection to the mortal world.

Oikawa wished he was there. No—no he didn’t. He wouldn’t bear to see the light fading from your eyes as he held you in his arms.)

He closed his eyes. “I know.”

He found himself back on the court two days later.

“He always finds a way to come back to the court.” His coach had said that once. Highschool Oikawa had reveled in the praise, reveled in his devotion to a sport.

Now it felt shallow. How dare he be more devoted to a sport than the own two people who motivated him to even start playing? How dare he be blinded by the rush of dopamine a successful serve gave him? How dare he not support his closest friend when he was nearing his end? How dare he not notice your unyielding love for him? How dare he how dare he how dare he-

Oikawa swiveled on his heel and threw the volleyball onto the wall. It bounced off with a satisfying “thwack” and landed back into his hands.

Oikawa sighed.

His thumbs traced slow circles against the leather. Soothing. Calmi-

(His thumb rubbed a gentle circle into your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, his breath hot on your face.

Your lips quirked into a smile. “For what?”

“Mm,” he moved forward and closed the distance between you greedily, encapturing you in another kiss. “It doesn’t matter.”)

Oikawa threw the ball up and took a step forward, shifting his weight into his feet for the jump.

A violent cough tore itself from his throat.

Oikawa collapsed onto his knees, his hand pressed into his mouth. The coughs were aggressive, sending violent tremors throughout his entire body. His throat hurt.

(“Yeah, it hurts,” Iwaizumi muttered, quietly rubbing his throat. “It hurts like hell.”)

(“It hurts.” Your voice was a ghost whisper in the quiet hums of the night. “Tooru, it hurts.”)

The coughs subsided, leaving behind an eerie sort of silence. Oikawa removed his hand from his mouth.

Ah, he thought. I should’ve expected this.

A vivid purple petal dotted with crimson sat in the palm of his hand. He closed his fists around the flower petal, his eyes stinging with tears.

Love was harsh words and sore throats. Love was drunken lust in the ungodly hours of night. Love was confusing. Love was stupid.

Love, it seemed, was everyone’s demise.

-purple hyacinths represent sorrow or regret.

-white tulips represent forgiveness.

taglist: @joliechuchoter @pablopascal @yn-tingz @vannerz @strawberriimilkshake @sunarashi @hajiimes @tttournesolll @hajibee @semiis @kageyuji (send an ask/dm if you want to be removed, fill out the form here to be added!)

[retrievablememories]

a day with you | taeyong (m)

title: a day with you pairing: taeyong x reader genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers summary: you spend your birthday with one of your closest friends—lee taeyong. word count: 4.7k warnings: fingering, oral sex (female receiving), PIV sex, a lil dirty talk a/n: i know he can’t drive(?) but let’s pretend lol. some parts of this fic are little vague and you’ll see what i mean but that’s so you can imagine your own preferences

Taeyong wakes up first thing in the morning with you already on his mind. 

He can’t help but smile to himself as he thinks about spending time with you on a day as special as this—your birthday. He doesn’t always get to spend as much time with you as he’d like because of his neverendingly busy schedule, but this is one day he wouldn’t miss.

Wiping his blurry eyes, he reaches for his phone and opens the text message box with your name on it.

To: Y/N Hi sleepyhead~ are you awake yet? Probably not. But i’m coming to get you soon ^^

Taeyong takes a shower and dresses himself, all while still thinking of you. Once he’s ready to his liking, he leaves the dorm to drive to your favorite breakfast place nearby. The sun is just making its appearance over the horizon, warming the land and making everything seem brand new again.

When Taeyong arrives at your place with food in hand, it’s still fairly early in the morning. As he predicted, you aren’t awake yet—at least not fully. It takes you a minute to answer the door, and only after he knocks incessantly. When you do, you’re still in your pajamas from last night.

“I’m guessing you didn’t see my message?” He laughs and pats your head.

“Honestly, I was knocked out…sorry, Yongie,” you say, stifling a yawn. You move aside so he can come in and close the door after him. Suddenly awakened by the smell of food wafting past your nose, you follow Taeyong into the kitchen. “But I see you have food...what’d you bring me?”

“Only your favorite, of course. What else would I get the birthday girl on her special day?”

“You know me so well,” you say, giving Taeyong a side hug before diving into the bag to get your meal. You and Taeyong eat together at the table, enjoying each other’s company. You’re still a bit sleepy so you don’t say much, but Taeyong doesn’t mind. He likes seeing you enjoying your food, and it makes him happy to treat you to gestures like this.

Once you finish eating, you slide out of your seat and stretch. “Wow, that was great. Thank you Yongie,” you giggle, pinching his cheek. He blushes at your attention and shrugs bashfully.

“I’m gonna go take a shower and get dressed now. Can you tell me where we’re going so I know how to dress at least? A hint? Pleaseee?”

“Not yet! You’ll see when we get there,” Taeyong says smugly, putting his arms behind his head. “It’s not just one place anyway, so it doesn’t really matter what you wear.”

“Oh, fine. You won’t be too bored without me, right?” you ask, turning to look at him from the bedroom doorway. 

“I’m fine Y/N, I can handle myself for an hour while you get ready.” He chuckles.

“If you insist!”

Once you’re ready, you and Taeyong go out to his car and take off to wherever the first destination is, which you’re excited to find out. You watch the scenery go by as you travel there.

“I hope work’s been treating you well,” you say, turning back to look at Taeyong.

“You don’t have to worry about me today,” he insists.

“I’m always gonna worry about you!” You put your hand on his leg, and his eyes widen a tad at that. “I know it’s hard sometimes. You said you wanted to make me happy—knowing you’re doing okay is what makes me happy.”

A grin spreads across his face. Taeyong glances at you and places his hand on yours. “I’m doing fine. Promise.” He nudges his pinky finger under yours, linking them together. “I wouldn’t lie to you!”

You squeeze his pinky finger back. “I’m trusting you. If I hear you’re overworking yourself again, I’m gonna force you to take a vacation. Just watch!”

You start to realize where you’re headed pretty soon when the city’s scenery gives way to more greenery. This lake, and the park it’s located in, is one of your favorite places to hang out with Taeyong, although you haven’t been there lately because he’s been so busy with work.

“Remember the first time we came here?” you ask, gazing at the lake’s surface glittering from between the trees.

“That was such a fun day. I didn’t even know this place existed back then...it feels like a hundred years ago now, though.”

Once the car is in the parking lot, you two head to the boardwalk. A good portion of it extends out into the lake itself before meeting the shore again and trailing off onto a nature trail among the trees. You walk along the portion that sits over the lake, stopping every so often to watch the water lap at the wooden posts. There are only a few other people out here besides you two; it’s still too early for the afternoon crowds.

Taeyong stands beside you as you peer into the waters, his hair blowing across his face from the cool breeze.

“You should drop in a coin. Make a wish or something.”

“I thought that was only for fountains?”

“Maybe it’ll work here, too.” He leans forward to see both of your reflections staring back at him.

You giggle. “The fish will get mad at me. I think I’ll pass on that one. We should go see the trail though, there’s a flower bush there...I know you remember it.”

“The one that has those flowers with the funny-looking petals?”

“Yes! I wanna take a picture of it,” you say, already feet ahead of Taeyong. “Come on, or you���re getting left behind!”

You and Taeyong end up walking through the park for a couple of hours; it offers enough land to trek through for days and still be able to find something new every hour. With the sun rising higher in the sky, the temperature quickly starts shooting up. You wipe the sweat away from your forehead, stopping underneath a tree near the side of the park that faces the main road.

You’ve stayed in the park long enough for other people and food trucks to start appearing, and there’s already a line of different vendors camping along the sidewalk.

“I’m hot. We need some ice cream,” you sigh dramatically, leaning against the tree for strength.

“Come on, there’s an ice cream truck down the road.”

Taeyong pays for both your ice creams and you walk along the edge of the park after getting them, eating happily and pointing out birds and flowers to each other every few minutes.

The heat does a number on your ice cream, making it melt onto your hand before you’re even halfway through with the cone. “Damn.” You look at the sticky mess covering your hand. “I should’ve gotten a napkin! Hold on, I’ll just go—”

“Wait.” Taeyong grabs your arm. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he bends his head to lick the ice cream dripping across your fingers. Your eyes grow big, and you stutter trying to think of how to respond, but you end up merely watching him.

He soon pulls back after he finishes his job on your hand. “See? All gone now,” he grins, but his smile comes out more nervous than he intended. The atmosphere isn’t awkward, per se, but it’s definitely more tense than it was a few minutes ago.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say weakly, trying to ignore the heat flooding through your body at his actions. “Don’t get us kicked out of here for public indecency!”

After you finish your ice cream, you and Taeyong decide to leave the park before you melt into the pavement. You stretch your hands in front of the air vents when you get back into his car, letting the pleasant chill run up your arms as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, pressing your hand to the window. The park’s green scenery grows sparse and gives way to roads and familiar hardscapes, which means you’re probably heading to the busiest part of the city.

“Will you ever let me give you a surprise?” Taeyong whines, laughing. “I’ll give you one hint: you’ll need my credit card for it.”

“You mean mine?”

“No way, mine. You can buy whatever you want today, all on me. I already know what you’re thinking, but seriously, it’s fine; charge however much you want.”

“You’re too good to me, seriously. How did I find someone like you?”

“Luck, maybe.”

As you suspected, Taeyong takes you to the busier—and also more expensive—part of the city, packed with shops and boutiques on every corner and filled with people walking to and fro.

When you get out, you and Taeyong stand on the sidewalk gazing at the different stores. “I don’t know where to start,” you admit, gazing at the numerous options laid out in front of you. “You’re all into this luxury stuff, give me a recommendation for something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please?”

“Okay, here.” Taeyong pulls you to the first clothing store he sees, which happens to be Chanel. You haven’t been in here before, so you’re a bit taken aback at how spacious it is...and how just many clothes there are.

“Wow. I could probably shop forever and still not buy everything,” you say jokingly, drifting away from Taeyong to go over to a jacket that catches your eye.

You spend a lot of time going through the store—and the ones after that—trying to decide what you like. Taeyong buys you a few things from each one. He gives you suggestions at every place you stop in, but at the last store, he becomes drawn to a particular dress hanging on the rack. It’s black with big daisy patterns all over it, and the skirt is made of a flowing, silky material.

“Do you see something you like?” You peek over his shoulder at the dress.

“Yes, for you.” He takes it off the rack and holds it up to your body. “I think it’d look cute on you. Will you try it on?”

You give him a look before taking the dress from his hand. “Okay, let’s see how it looks.” You take it to the dressing room and undress so you can pull it on. The daisy patterns seemed a little overdone at first, but it looks better than you expected. After examining yourself in the mirror, you step outside the dressing room so Taeyong can see it.

“Well, what do you think of it?” you ask, spinning around so Taeyong can see it full-view. He taps his finger against his chin and nods, his eyes lingering on your form. 

“You should wear it. Like, for the rest of the day.”

You turn to a nearby mirror and examine the dress again. “Hmm, you really think so?”

“It’s your birthday. You deserve to look good, don’t you?”

“Geez, are you saying my previous outfit was bad?” You snort, throwing Taeyong a skeptical look over your shoulder.

“No, I’m saying...this one is even better.” He’s practically eating you up with his eyes now, and there’s no room for doubt that he means what he says. You’re a bit flustered by the way he’s looking at you, so you turn back the mirror, staring at your reflection.

“Okay, I trust your taste,” you say, willing your heart rate to calm down a little. Taeyong smirks at you in the mirror’s reflection.

You try on a couple more things before leaving the last store—or more like, Taeyong convinces you that every item would look good on you and you decide to get it because you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes.

You drop your shopping bags off at your place before heading back out again. The next stop: the movie theater. Taeyong tells you to pick a movie and promises to stay awake through the whole thing even if he dislikes it, which you roll your eyes at.

“When have you ever known me to pick a bad movie?”

“Well…”

“On second thought, don’t answer that question.”

“Are you hungry?” Taeyong asks a couple hours after you leave the theater. It’s early evening now, but there’s still daylight from the long hours of summer. You had some popcorn in the theater, but you’re ready for the main course now.

“Yes, do you have something special planned for that too?” you ask, poking him in the side. 

“Sure, but let’s go back to your place first, I think I left something there,” Taeyong says casually. You don’t suspect anything, so you happily agree, wondering where he’s gonna take you for dinner.

You get back to the building not too long after and head up the stairs to your floor with Taeyong trailing behind you. “This isn’t an excuse to look up my dress, is it?” you say jokingly, glancing back at him. Taeyong blushes at that and laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“It’s not like that!”

You think Taeyong’s going to stop at your apartment once you get to it, but he keeps walking past it and towards the set of stairs that lead to the apartment’s rooftop.

“I’m hungry, Taeyong, why are we going to the roof? There isn’t any food up there,” you laugh, though you follow him as he tugs on your hand and guides you up the steps.

“You’ll see!”

When you get to the top of the stairs, Taeyong swings open the door. On the other side is your apartment’s rooftop, but it looks much different from the last time you saw it. On normal days, there’s a little hangout spot up there with tables and chairs, a fire pit, and an array of potted plants dotting each of the rooftop’s corners.

Now, there are little glowing fairy lights strung up everywhere, decorating the assortment of potted plants native to the rooftop’s decor. The chairs have been pushed to the sides of the roof to make room for a huge blanket in the middle, a quaint little picnic basket on top of it.

“Whoa,” you say, your eyes widening at the setup. “I’ve actually only been up here a few times...I guess I’ve been so busy I haven’t had proper time to appreciate it. It looks really different now...” You gaze at the city’s skyline in awe. The sun is still shining brightly, though darker oranges are already bleeding into the sky’s lighter hue in preparation for sunset. It won’t be long before the city is draped in darkness.

“Well, now you get to enjoy it with me!” Taeyong pulls you over to the blanket. The fire pit isn’t lit yet, but maybe you can do that later tonight.

“When did you even have time to set all this up, anyway? Seriously!” you ask as you and Taeyong sit down.

“I know people,” is his only explanation. “And it’s easy to pull strings when you’re cute.” He does an aegyo move and you shove him, laughing.

You and Taeyong dig into the picnic basket. “I made it myself too, ‘cause I know how much you like whatever you make.” He says this with a gentle smile.

“Ever the humble chef,” you laugh, taking the rest of the food out. There’s an array of fruits and other snacks in addition to the main meal. “Your cooking is always so good. How do you do it?” Taeyong shrugs.

“Sheer talent. Or magic. You should let me teach you one day,” Taeyong says with his mouth full.

“I should,” you say absentmindedly, looking across the skyline as you eat. “We should come up here more, too.”

After you finish the main meal, you and Taeyong feed each other pieces of fruit as he lies his head in your lap, his soft hair fanning across your bare legs. His eyes are soft as he looks up at you, and it makes your mind go warm and fuzzy with all the things you want to say to him.

Eventually, you lie back too, reclining on the soft blanket and gazing at the endless sheet of stars above you, glittering from light years away. Taeyong pulls away from you momentarily to light the fire pit, and the flames lick at the edges of your vision as you watch the starry sky.

“Do you ever think about how some of the stars have already long burned out? And their light is only just now reaching us?”

Taeyong makes a face as he settles beside you. “That’s a bit scary.”

“What if they were all gone? And there were actually no more stars left in our galaxy?” You turn your head to look at Taeyong. “What we would look at at night, then?”

Taeyong pauses for a moment before choosing his answer. “There would still be stars to look at. Like the ones here on Earth.” You smile at that.

The night gets darker as time wears on, and the temperature outside drops. Despite the warmth of the fire pit, Taeyong notices you shiver at the sudden breeze and pulls you closer to him, rubbing his hands on your arms. “Maybe we should go inside?”

“Sounds good to me, I’m starting to get a little sleepy anyway…we’ve been out all day,” you say, stretching your arms and legs. Taeyong cleans up all the food and empty containers spread around, refusing to let you lift a finger to help. Once the picnic basket is packed, you both roll off the blanket so he can fold it up and sling it over his arm. He puts the fire out and gets ready to leave with you, taking your hand. 

“What about the lights and stuff?” you ask, glancing back at the fairy lighting still dangling off the potted plants.

“Later,” Taeyong says, waving it away. “Somebody will get to enjoy it tomorrow, maybe.”

You both head back down the stairs and to your apartment. Taeyong sets the stuff down and pulls you into a hug once you both enter your place.

“Today was so fun,” you say, hugging Taeyong back and relishing the feel of his arms around you. “It was the best birthday ever. You’re the best friend anyone could have, you know?”

“I could say the same.” Taeyong murmurs. You pull away from each other, but Taeyong’s fingertips linger at the hemline of your dress; he rubs the fabric between his fingers, a thoughtful look on his face. “You look so cute in this dress...really pretty.” His hand drifts higher and his fingers skirt across your waistline, to your arm, and up your shoulder until he’s hovering at your face.

Taeyong touches the side of your face, a gentle smile on his lips. Your eyes linger on each other’s for a tense moment, and then, Taeyong steps closer and closes the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. Maybe you should be surprised, but you’re not. Taeyong pulls your body closer, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck and into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

His lips are soft and his tongue is warm against yours. His other hand finds its way back to your skirt and drifts higher, higher, and higher underneath, dangerously close to the hemline of your underwear. He pulls away, panting against your lips, and you chase him for more. He acquiesces and gives you another hot kiss, but then breaks it to speak against your lips,

“I’ve been wanting to slip underneath this dress all day.” His fingers come around to your front, pressing into your sex. “Why do you think I picked it? In the shop...wouldn’t it have been nice if we fucked there?”

You moan at that as Taeyong’s lips drift to your jaw, then the side of your neck. You grip Taeyong’s wrist, bringing his hand closer, pressing his knuckles to your clit. You shudder, and Taeyong responds by dragging his fingers over that spot more firmly, feeling you grow wetter and warmer against him.

“Sit on the couch for me, baby.” Taeyong guides you backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. Your dress spreads out around you as you sit, and Taeyong kneels in front of you, dragging the fabric higher to rest above your thighs. He leans closer to lay soft kisses over your inner thighs, his fingers pressing into the skin as he pulls your body closer to his mouth. You tremble and press your back against the couch when he mouths at your clit through your underwear.

“Taeyong…” He licks you slowly through your underwear and you have to resist the urge to close your legs around his head as his tongue dances over your clit. He pulls back, looking up at you deviously, only to hook his fingers into your underwear and pull them down. You lift your hips to help him, and he holds you firmly in his grip, bringing your pussy closer to meet his warm and wanting mouth. You gasp at the feeling of his lips on your bare skin, pushing your hand through his hair, wanting him to bury himself inside you.

He slips a finger into you as he licks you and makes you pliable, and then he adds another as he presses them upwards to find the spot that will have you shaking for him. Taeyong finds it soon after and keeps thrusting into it as he lets his tongue trace circles over and over your clit, drawing out more moans and whines from you.

You’re wet and sticky with pleasure at this point, moving your hips along with Taeyong’s movements to draw out as much ecstasy as you can. You feel the orgasm building in your lower body as you grind yourself onto Taeyong’s fingers, and he brings you nearer to it until you’re teetering on the edge.

You tip over the precipice when Taeyong moans into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted and wiggles his fingers against your spot a little harder. You come hard on his fingers and face, and all you can do is grab onto his free hand for support as your legs shake and your stomach tenses from the waves of bliss flowing through you. When Taeyong thinks you’ve had enough, he pulls away from you with his face glistening. He licks his lips clean and lets go of your thighs, letting your relaxed form rest against the couch.

“Let’s go to your room,” he says, and gathers you up in his arms, taking you down the hall to where your bedroom is. He lays you gently on the bed and you watch with anticipation thrumming through your body as he sheds his clothing in front of you until he’s down to his underwear. Though you’ve just come, you’re already leaking and ready for him to pleasure you again.

His hands come up to your body to peel away your dress, and he guides you to lie back on the middle of the bed as his lips cover each new section of exposed skin. He kneads your breasts once they’re revealed to him, pinching your nipples and sucking them between his soft lips, teasing them into hard peaks. His mouth is indescribably warm and wet against your body, his hands equally as soft and gentle as they roam over your waist, down to your hips and legs and back again.

You take Taeyong’s chin between your fingers and bring his face back up to yours so you can kiss his lips and whisper in his ear, “Taeyong, please. I want you.”

Taeyong parts from you for a moment to grab a condom from his jeans, and once he rolls it on he settles between your legs with his cock nudging against your lower lips. He thrusts his hips against you, his tip catching on your entrance, and he keeps rocking himself until he’s fully seated inside of you, both of you moaning from the sensation of filling and being filled.

“You feel so good,” Taeyong murmurs into the side of your neck. He pushes into you slowly, wanting to feel every inch of you around him. With so many sensations flowing through you at once, you’re unsure where to put your hands, and they drift across Taeyong’s back aimlessly. The muscles there clench under your palms as he thrusts into you.

He is tender as he holds you close, kissing you wherever he can and moaning softly in your ear. This is not how you thought your night would end, but you have no complaints as Taeyong fills you over and over again, his hand sliding down your body to rub against your clit. You squeeze his shoulders, your nails pricking his skin slightly as the pleasure doubles inside you.

Droplets of sweat gather at his hairline and at the sides of his face, making the strands stick to his skin. You wipe these away as he looks into your eyes and strokes into you, his hips moving with more vigor as he gets more intense and feels the beginnings of his orgasm creeping up on him.

“I’m close,” Taeyong groans.

“Taeyong…” you sigh and arch against him as your climax overtakes you first, flooding through your body like liquid gold and making you tense and shiver around him.

Taeyong shudders against you when he comes, pulling your body closer to his and lowering his head onto your shoulder as he rides out the throes of pleasure. You both hold onto each other as if you’ll drift away otherwise, your arms tight around him as you listen to his heavy breaths.

He eventually rolls away from you to dispose of the condom. When he comes back, he pulls the bed covers back and draws you into his arms. You cuddle close together, and you can hear his heartbeat steadily next to your ear.

“You know I love you, right?” Taeyong asks quietly, drawing his index finger along your side. It tickles, but you don’t mind much as long as he’s touching you.

“Do you know I love you?” you say back, your lips moving against his collarbone as you speak. He brings his hand up to your hair, breathing in your scent.

“Mmm...maybe.” His body shakes with laughter. “I think maybe I knew it all along.”

“Me too,” you say, closing your eyes. Tiredness sweeps over you, and you know you’ll have to talk more in the morning, but right now you are more than content to leave things as they are. “Maybe we were made for each other.”

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

Something Wonderful (or Jamie and Owen compete to see who’s the better boyfriend and cause general exasperation)

The world’s best boyfriend contest started one Wednesday evening and went on for two weeks, resulting in about five trashcans full of wrapping paper, a completely exasperated au pair, a bemused housekeeper, one disgruntled cat, and a small fire.

(Don’t ask about the fire, okay? Just — don’t)

Now why Jamie had been participating in a best boyfriend contest, was frankly beyond Dani’s imagination. She had pondered it, turning it over and over in her head until all the incredulous question marks were just swirling around like balloons, had even asked her girlfriend this and been kissed into distraction until all the question marks had molded themselves into little malleable hearts that beat in time to every movement of Jamie’s lips against her own, but the question remained – Why was Jamie trying to be the best boyfriend when she was, in fact, a girl?

“A woman,” Jamie informs her, dignified. “Don’t infantilize me, Dani.”

“I’m sorry,” Dani replies. “Guess I must have been thinking of last night when you asked me to call you baby, like, ten times and then kiss your face all over until you were giggling.”

“Dani!” Jamie’s voice is muffled from where it’s coming to Dani from three inches of pillow fluff, drawn out so long that she can both hear and feel the embarrassment in those two syllables. “You know that was because you never kiss my face!”

Dani hums.

“You should kiss my face more often,” Jamie continues, and now Dani can hear the added pout. It is so cute that it’s an effort not to lean over, pull Jamie up until they’re facing each other, and kiss her until they’re both lightheaded.

(Nobody said having the most adorable girlfriend in the world would be easy)

(Nobody has said it, actually. Dani checked. They should’ve. Because it’s true)

Dani falls sideways until her head is next to the pillow, and consequently, Jamie’s head. She moves closer until her nose is pressing at Jamie’s temple, and presses two quick butterfly kisses high up on her cheek. Jamie whines.

“What? You told me to kiss you.”

“Yes, but now I’m embarrassed so I can’t look at you.”

Dani rolls her eyes, tamps down the urge to just grab at her girlfriend’s beautiful face and turn it towards her. Consent is sexy and all that. Also because she is sure that if Jamie looks at her now, all red and her brows furrowed, and lips curled up in a pout, Dani will pass out from sheer adoration.

“But I want to look at the winner of the best boyfriend contest in the world.”

This makes Jamie finally emerge from her self-made cocoon. “I know you’re joking, but it is something that I’m very proud of.”

“May I remind you that you didn’t actually win? And that you’re a girlfriend.”

“That’s because Hannah threatened to call Rebecca over and have her recite the terms and conditions documentation for her latest client to both of us,” Jamie tells her. “And also, it’s the principle of the thing.”

(Dani’s theory on dealing with idiot girlfriends, a gradually growing list states that when your girlfriend is being ridiculous, it is best to just go along with her shenanigans)

Dani just mhms.

*****

The entire thing starts because of Jamie.

(Oh, Jamie disagrees. But Dani knows, just knows that her sweet, if somewhat idiotic girlfriend, was the trigger that released the stupid bullet out of the gun. It’s not that she herself isn’t partly responsible but then again, try having a girlfriend who can widen her eyes and twirl a strand of her curly hair around her finger and mesmerize you into doing basically anything for her.)

There they are, sitting in the greenhouse, when they hear Owen and Hannah come strolling in and then Jamie gets that glint in her eye, the one that reads ‘I’m the cutest motherfucker and I will fuck things up simply because chaos intrigues me’.

(Dani may be paraphrasing a bit)

The point is, Jamie winks at her, and then immediately gets down on one knee, holds her hand, and says in a most terrible interpretation of Owen’s deep, gruff voice - “Hannah, my love, my absolute darling! Would you do me the honor of giving me company as I go about my every single task in this household? It’s just that I am completely whipped and cannot bear to be away from you for even one second!”

(Dani thinks it’s a little sanctimonious, since it was only yesterday that Jamie had driven back from the village in the middle of the night because she claimed to have been missing Dani too much, but stays quiet. She is the number one expert on dealing with ridiculous girlfriends, after all)

Owen rolls his eyes. Hannah just sighs in Dani’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah,” he drawls. “I love my partner, so sue me.”

“Ooh, Dani, look who’s being an adult now!” Jamie crows, and Dani would be annoyed if she weren’t completely smitten by her girlfriend’s amusement. “We have girlfriends, Owen here has a partner!”

“That one’s actually on me,” Hannah says mildly, taking a seat beside them on the bench. “I am too respectable and mature to be someone’s girlfriend.”

Dani would make fun of the completely besotted look on Owen’s face, if she weren’t sure that she had the same expression plastered on hers most of the time while she was around Jamie.

“You’re just jealous,” he says.

“Jealous of what? You don’t see my ravishing girlfriend sitting right here?”

“Oh, not of that,” Owen waves a hand in the air. “You’re just jealous because I’m a better boyfriend than you are.”

“Wha — I — how dare you?”

Dani opens her mouth, then shuts it again. No point.

He smirks. “You’re only pissed because you know it’s true.”

Jamie rises to her feet, faces him. “I do not pick out flowers for Dani — every day — in the color of whatever she is wearing just for you to turn around and call me mediocre.”

“Oh so that’s why you give me flowers every day,” she mumbles under her breath, loud enough for only Hannah to hear and chuckle at.

“Well,” Owen retorts. “I invent pastries for Hannah. And name them after her!”

(It’s true. His little bakery down at the village now features specials such as “Hannah”, “Hannah Returns”, “Han-nah Han-yes”, “Hannah Chocolate Banana”, and one notable donut that’s now just referred to by everyone as “Generic pun involving the name Hannah”)

Seemingly at an impasse, they turn to where Hannah and Dani are sitting, but right before they can say anything, Hannah holds up a hand, says – No, and glides out of the scene, gracefully.

Dani guesses that’s one way to end a discussion.

*****

“Miss Clayton,” Miles asks her, sounding supremely curious as he peers into the window, “Have Owen and Jamie started working out?”

Distracted, she frowns. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just that they’ve been racing around the grounds with something in their hands for the past fifteen minutes now.”

Dani walks over to the window, picks Flora up so she can stand on the desk to see better. Two figures are indeed running around the grounds, with what looks suspiciously like signboards held in their hands.

“Miles,” she says. “Do you still have those binoculars your uncle sent over for your birthday?”

He scampers away and is back in a flash, looking through them. And then he starts laughing.

“What?”

He’s still chortling, as he hands it over, unable to speak. “Just — just look.”

It takes her a while to focus as they’re constantly running. Now magnified, she can see, very clearly the look of sheer exhaustion on both of their faces. Sheer exhaustion mingled with utter obstinacy. And then she directs it a little upwards and what she sees makes her genuinely consider banging her head against the wall until she bleeds.

Owen’s sign reads – I’m the best boyfriend in the world.

Jamie’s reads – No, he’s not.

Dani lowers the contraption and starts thinking of ways to kill Jamie.

(“Baby, you’re killing me!”

“I literally just said I’m not going to kiss you for two days.”

Jamie throws up her hands, repeats - “Baby, you’re killing me!”)

*****

“Okay, so here’s an idea, okay?” Jamie says excitedly, as they’re walking in the woods in the moonlight. “Tomorrow, you can talk about how I took you to a candlelight dinner, and we had champagne, and we danced in the moonlight to a very romantic jazz song.”

“Or,” Dani proposes, index finger in the air, “and this is just an idea but hear me out — you could actually take me to one of these fancy dates and then I wouldn’t have to lie so you can win an imaginary contest that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things?”

Jamie pouts.

Dani bites her lip.

Jamie pouts harder.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, Poppins,” Jamie says, wrapping her arms around her from behind, and maneuvering her until she’s facing what looks like a blanket spread out in the clearing, held down by a picnic basket, a portable stereo set and bottle of—

“Is that—”

“No,” Jamie cuts in, “that is port wine. That’s what you get when you date the gardener instead of someone way, way more accomplished.”

Dani turns around, kisses Jamie until light brighter than the moon bursts beneath her eyelids, until the world shrinks to just the two of them — to two women wrapped around, into each other, to the texture of Jamie’s hair between her fingertips, the satin feel of her lips sliding against hers and the sound of her heavy breathing in the night air. Her heart skips in her chest, light as a petal floating in the wind, and she imagines it landing, very gently, in the palm of Jamie’s hand.

“I couldn’t date anyone more accomplished than the world’s best girlfriend.”

Jamie’s smile is gradual and the most enchanting thing she has ever seen.

*****

“Say what you want, but at least Hannah and I give each other distance and space.”

“Hey!” Jamie protests. “We have a very healthy relationship. We give each other loads of space.”

“You’re literally sitting on her lap.”

“While I could be making out with her,” Jamie says, like that makes it any better. “You’ll find that this is plenty space.”

Hannah sighs.

*****

The gifts are of various sizes, an everyday testament to the lengths people are willing to go to just to prove a point. They slowly take over the house, until one can’t run around a corner for fear of bumping into a large gift-wrapped box waiting to be opened by either of the two women. Flora takes it in stride, calling everyone to wherever she finds a gift lying in stealth. It’s come to a point where Dani isn’t even carefully opening the wrapping paper, like she’s been doing her entire life; she just rips it over and prepares to behold the magic.

(She will say this, though: all the gifts are things she wants, or needs. Jamie might be ridiculous, but she knows her)  

All in all, it is with resignation that Dani walks to the front hall when Miles starts screaming about how everyone in the house is out to get his toe.

Owen stands beside Hannah as she kneels to pick up a tiny, but heavy looking box.

“Open it—”

“am opening it—”

“-quicker!”

“Owen!”

She gasps when she opens it, though, and Dani walks forward for a closer look at the beautiful necklace that nestles inside the velvet box.

“Owen,” Hannah sighs, her fingers hovering over the pendant like she’s afraid of touching it. “You shouldn’t have.”

He kisses her cheek. “Only the best for you, my love.”

Dani leaves them looking into each other’s eyes, only for her attention to immediately go to the door, where Jamie’s just walked in, holding a large cardboard box.

“Oh?” she smiles, arms still juggling the box. “What have we got here?”

Owen takes a deep breath, shoots the box a suspicious look. “What’s in that?”

“Oh, this?” Jamie asks, faux casually. “It’s — ah, nothing. Nothing really. Just a little thing for Dani here.”

Dani thinks Oh dear.

“You should open it,” he says.

“Eh,” Jamie replies, and Dani can see she’s trying very, very hard to not laugh out loud. “It’s really—”

“—open it—”

“—no, really—”

“Jamie!”

Jamie keeps it down, looks at all of them triumphantly. “I mean, alright. If you insist.”

Dani sits in front of the box and examines it suspiciously.

“It can hardly punch you in the face, dear,” Hannah says.

The box isn’t closed tightly, the top flaps just placed on top of each other. She opens them, rises up on her knees to look inside—

—and then Flora, who’s also been curiously looking, squeals. “It’s a kitten!”

And so it is. A tiny black thing, it had been snoozing on top of a cushion placed inside the box, and now unceremoniously woken up by noise, looks up at her, and meows indignantly.

(It would not be an exaggeration to say that Dani falls in love at first sight)

She picks it (a her, upon closer examination) up from the makeshift bed, and holds her up at eyelevel. “Baby,” she says, “I adore you.”

“Why, thank you,” she hears Jamie’s voice from behind her somewhere.

“Pretty sure she was talking to the cat.”

“Miles, you little shit.”

She leans in, nuzzles its soft fur for a second, then looks back up at Jamie. “Thank you,” she says.

Jamie’s eyes are soft. “Anytime, darling.”

*****

“We’ve never seen Jamie like this, you know?” Hannah says one night, out of the blue, as she’s cleaning up after dinner. Dani sits at the dining table, having been expressly forbidden from touching any instrument that might result in her contaminating the food. Owen and Jaime are outside getting drunk by the campfire. She looks up sharply when Hannah starts talking.

“You mean super competitive?” she asks, dryly, even though she knows what Hannah’s talking about.

“You know what I mean,” Hannah smiles. “She’s…. smitten. Charmed. Enchanted. Other adjectives I can’t quite think of right now.”

“I am all of those things,” she gushes, burying her head in her hands like an embarrassed schoolgirl. “I am…. smitten and charmed and enamored and other adjectives that I can’t think of right now.”

Hannah smiles indulgently when she finally looks at her through the gaps between her fingers.  

“She’s better with you too,” she continues. “She’s dated before, of course she has but, oh, I don’t know how to say it.”

Dani rests her face on her palm, listens quietly.

“She’s not proud of who she’s been,” Hannah continues. “I think — finally, she likes who she is when she’s with you. And it is such a glory to see. She’s—”

“Content?”

“Happy.”

That’s all Dani wants, really. For Jamie to be happy. For however long she can love her, for however long she can take care of her, she wants Jaime to be perfectly, dazzlingly happy. That’s an overwhelming need that rises in her every time she witnesses her girlfriend in a quiet moment, trimming the hedges, watering the lawn or simply just lost in thought — that no matter what happens tomorrow, she wants her to be happy for that one moment in time.  

(Part of her knows that she keeps focusing on the end because things tend to go wrong around her so often that it’s never been safe to rest and breathe easy, to think Yes, this is it, this is where I was supposed to end up. But she wants. She wants to believe, so badly, that this will last forever, that thirty years down the line, she would still be talking to Hannah about how crazy Jamie drives her every day.)

And she would do anything to make that happen.

“Is,” she wonders out loud, hesitates a bit, “is this what love is?”

Hannah passes behind her to pat her head, and Dani doesn’t even need the answer to her own question.

*****

She hears them from quite a distance away.

(Then again, she supposes it is impossible to not hear a man and a woman, both grown, both employed in respectable professions when they’re yelling about how much they love their respective girlfriends at a roaring fire)

She stops when she almost reaches them, curious to hear what they’ve been talking about.

“I love her,” she hears Owen announce as he raises his bottle in the air to emphasize the point.

“I know you do,” Jamie reassures him, equally as loud and passionate. “You love her like I love—”

“—Dani—”

“—yes! Dani is her name. The most perfect name in the world.”

Owen laughs in response.

“It’s true!” Jamie pokes a finger into his shoulder. “Like her mother’s a bitch but she did one thing right. She gave her daughter the prettiest name in the world.”

“You just think the name is pretty because you think the daughter is pretty,” Owen informs her.

“Oh.”

Jamie falls silent for a while, apparently contemplating the meaning of life, and Dani wants to laugh, but there’s another pressing need to hug her girlfriend that’s stronger.

“You wanna see something?” Owen asks, after a while of silence, then digs in his pocket when Jaime nods.

Dani cannot make it out from this far, but the way his hand moves, she does have an inkling of what it is.

Jamie gasps, nearly dropping her bottle. “When?”

“I don’t know!” he groans. “I’m — waiting.”

“My buddy’s getting married!” Jamie shouts, and is immediately shushed by her companion, both of them subsequently dissolving into giggles. “I’m so happy. I’m so — just — so—”

“Wha — why are you crying!”

“Because you’re getting married!” Jamie says, and yeah, Dani can hear the tears in her voice. “And because—”

“What?”

“—because that makes you the best boyfriend now!”

Dani releases the longest sigh.

*****

“Shush!” Dani warns. “You’ll wake the cat.”

Jaime blinks wide at her, and nods rapidly. “I don’t wanna wake the cat,” she says, very seriously. And then looks quickly over to where Banana is sleeping by the window and her face melts into what Dani can only describe as sheer devotion.

“She’s so cute!”

Dani gently nudges her in the direction of the bed, makes her sit down.

“You’re so cute!” Jaime says again, now looking right at her. “Almost as cute as the cat.”

“Thank you,” Dani says, enormously cheered up by this version of her girlfriend. Drunk Jamie is a riot.

“I mean it!” Jaime allows her shirt to be pulled off her frame and then lets Dani maneuver her into a more comfortable one. “Dani. Dani. Dani. Dan—”

“Yes, baby?”

“Dani,” Jaime blinks at her, solemnly. “We should bang.”

(Even Dani, who’s the self-proclaimed expert in ridiculous girlfriend shenanigans, has no response to this)

Dani cannot help the laugh that escapes her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Bang. We should bang.”

“Maybe not now.”

“Yes, now!”

She pushes Jaime until she’s lying down, and staring up at her.  

“You should kiss me,” Jaime starts whining again, once her legs are aligned and she’s clearly found more pressing concerns.

Dani bends over her, kisses her forehead. Then on her closed eyelids, on both her cheeks and plants a final one on her nose.

“That okay?”

Jaime nods with her eyes still closed, and lips curled up in the widest smile. Dani brushes some hair off o her forehead, and prepares to get off the bed to change into something comfortable.

“Wait,” Jaime says, her hand fisted into Dani’s shirt. “Why are you leaving me?”

The words find their way into Dani’s heart via the hands fisted into her shirt just above her chest, wrap their arms around her heart, and press. Words are strange animals, aren’t they? Hurting and pulling and pushing and twisting until their owners are almost as battered and bruised as they themselves are. Dani searches for the right ones.

“I’m right here.”

“Sure?”

She kicks off her shoes, awkwardly, brings up her arm until she’s holding Jamie. “Yes, sweetheart.”

A minute later, Jamie will ruin the moment by sleepily declaring that she is, in fact, the winner of the best boyfriend contest. Dani will let it pass. You can’t have everything, after all.

[serendipitee]

Hello Bea 💛 Happy birthday! 🎉 Hope it’s a good one! #27 - Juke for the meet cute prompts?

Thank you and oh my god, this is so late! But it has puppies and ice cream and ‘wicked beauty’ references thrown in there, so I really hope you like it!! 💛🐾

27. You help catch their dog when the leash slips from their hand.

Luke doesn’t even know how he ended up like this.

 Well, it might’ve to do with him being a sucker and unable to say ‘no’ to Reggie. There is also the fact, that his best friend’s two dogs have him wrapped around their little finger (paw? whatever!) and he loves spending time with them.

So, Luke is the best friend of best friends and agreed to take them out, while Reggie goes on a date he’d been gushing about for days.

 He regrets that now. Because he is basically hugging a tree at this point, the two puppies barking excitedly, straining the leashes in two very different directions and Luke hates his life!

In his head, they were gonna go to the park, play around a little, enjoy the sunshine. He’d get some pictures to send to Alex, make him jealous because he decided to go on tour with his skater boyfriend while Luke gets to hang out with to adorable dogs. He definitely got the better end of that deal if you ask him.

 But well, things happened, leashes crossed each other, Finn wanted to go to the lake while Jake most certainly didn’t and Luke got caught in the middle of it.

 And now, Jake’s leash is slipping and Luke is praying, calling out for the pup but it’s for naught. A moment later, the leather connecting them is gone and he starts cursing colorfully.

 Of course, that is the second Finn chooses to calm down again and with an exasperated heave, Luke untangles himself from the tree.

 “Really?” He asks the puppy which is staring up at him with big, dark eyes, cocking his head and letting out a cheeky bark. “Hilarious,” he grumbles, before looking around.

 Jake isn’t the quickest, still learning to use his legs properly but Luke can’t spot him anywhere. Suddenly dread pools in his stomach because he did not just lose his best friend’s new puppy, did he? Reggie is gonna never trust him again. It’ll ruin their friendship.

 Freaking out in earnest now, he starts making his way into the direction Jake originally wanted to go. He just hopes, the pup stuck with it which is a stretch. It’s a puppy. Do they even think?

 “Jake!” Luke calls the name again and again, already dreading the next recording session because, he’ll ruin his voice with the panic interlacing it, but he really doesn’t care right now. “Jake! C’mon here, boy!”

 Finn is following him, tongue lolling out and Luke would stop, take a picture because it is ridiculously cute, but there’s an iron fist around his heart and he really needs to find Jake.

 “Excuse me, have you seen a puppy?” He starts asking random people. “Looks kind of like this one” – queue pointing at the dog by his feet – “but a little darker.”

 All he gets are head shakes until he reaches a young boy with curly dark hair. “Yeah, I saw him over by the food stands.”

 Of course. Jake loves pizza almost as much as Reggie does. He should’ve guessed. Not that he gets it that often. At least, Luke doesn’t think so. Pizza isn’t on a dog’s diet, right?

 “Do you want me to show you?” The kid asks eagerly and Luke is about to nod, when the boy flinches as somebody calls his name.

 “Carlos! ¿Dónde has estado?” A girl storms down the path towards them and Luke’s brain screeches to a halt.

 Even with the crease between her brows and the frown on her lips, she’s beautiful. Wild curls framing her face, a soft orange blouse tucked into a pair of fitting black jeans. She must’ve doodled on them, because he can spot stars and words on the thighs and he knows he’s gaping, there’s just nothing he can do about it.

 “Sorry,” Carlos says quickly, “but he lost his dog and I’m gonna help him find it.”

 “The dog’s right there,” comments the girl drily, raising an eyebrow and eyes flitting between the two of them as if contemplating the possibility of them pulling her leg.

 “The other dog,” Carlos clarifies and Luke nods dumbly.

 He still hasn’t managed to connect his mouth with his brain. Honestly, he’s a little afraid to do so because every thought that’s running rampant in there is some variation of ‘she’s beautiful’.

‘Wicked beauty’ screams the part responsible for making his songs sound award-worthy and isn’t that the truth?

 She turns to him, leveling him with stare, crossing her arms in front of her chest. About to say something, she gets interrupted by the boy again. “Can we help him look? Julie, please?”

 A sigh is followed by a look of softness at the boy and then she nods, all while Luke is internally freaking out about finding out her name.

 “Yeah, sure, Dad’s not picking us up for another half hour.” Julie shrugs and looks at Luke expectantly.

 Oh, right, he’s supposed to say something now, isn’t he? “Uh, thanks- thanks, that’s, uh, your- Carlos said, he saw him by the food stands?”

 Very smooth, Luke, chastens a voice that sounds too much like Alex for his liking.

 They do find Jake right next to the ice cream truck. He doesn’t go down without a fight, though. It takes all three of them to finally grab the leash because apparently, the little guy finally figured out how to use his legs.

 Twice they almost had him, him and Julie reaching for the leash at the same time but every time their fingers touched, they’d both drawn back, the leather slipping away and Jake letting out a triumphant bark.

 It’s Carlos who finally grabs it, pumping his fist in victory and Julie laughs, while Finn jumps up and down, the excitement of hunting after his brother obviously still thrumming through his little body.

 “That was,” Julie starts, “not how I expected to spend my Saturday afternoon.”

 Luke feels bad immediately. They’re both breathing a little heavy, looking a little worse for wear, sweat glistening on their foreheads but Julie still is radiant and he feels the need to apologize. “I’m sorry, that’s- uh, really... sorry.”

 She waves him off, watching Carlos play with the two puppies at their feet. “It’s fine. We could use the laugh.”

 He notices the weight suddenly appearing on her shoulders and it takes everything in him not to overstep and ask outright. Instead, he ducks his head. “Can I repay you somehow?”

 Alex would’ve been proud. That was smooth.

 There’s a small smile on her lips when she looks at him. Luke is sure, that he’ll sit down and write a verse about those damn lips as soon as he gets home. Maybe one about her eyes as well. The thought of ‘wicked beauty’ comes back almost forcefully, knocking a breath from his lungs.

 “Well, we already are at the ice cream truck, so…”

 “Yeah, okay, I can do that.” He stumbles over Finn’s leash, catching himself at the last second and Julie’s chuckling softly. Rubbing the back of his neck, he bites his lips. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

 “Nice to meet you, Luke.” Julie says, eyes sparkling and yeah, yep, definitely gonna write about those, too.