#I’m only noticing how deep it goes on the reread

[romantichopelessly]

There’s something so personal about the number of times The Raven Boys aligns Gansey’s relationship with Adam to his relationship with Blue

[courtingchaos]

Nectarine

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Warnings: Talk of body parts in a sexy way. Comparison of the female body to fruit, implied white/light-skinned reader due to analogy/prose. I had this very particular phrase stuck in my head and it comes across as that. Uh, I just really like how it reads so that’s why I’m putting a warning here because I didn’t want to take it out.

A/N: I’ve hung on to this for like two months now because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post it but I was rereading it tonight and I forgot how much I like writing from Eddie’s perspective. So also have this thing too.

18+ NSFW No Minors

He’s never been jealous of fruit before.

Never had the urge to rip a nectarine out of someone’s hand and huck it right into the pool for making him feel like this. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the spectacle since you bit into it, that first bite crunching through the mottled white and red flesh. You’d come out from the kitchen of Steve’s house with it already wedged between your teeth while you balanced pizzas in your hands and he’d shot right up to help. You’d laughed around the mouthful and when he’d taken the boxes you pulled the fruit away from your lips, the sound of you sucking up the spit that had dribbled against them making him almost burst.

There’s something suggestive in the way the colors meld on the skin. The deep red giving under your teeth to reveal the pale flesh, juices rushing your fingers and down your chin. He watches you laugh and jump when some of it drips down onto your chest and he watches you try to wipe it away while keeping your top in place.

He’d been stock still, leaned over the pizzas and it’s Dustin elbowing him that makes him realize he was for real staring, mouth agape and fingers clenched around greasy cardboard. You’ve been too busy laughing it up with Robin to notice him going absolutely insane.

“Dude get the fuck out of the way.” Dustin says under his breath and Eddie just slaps the back of his head.

“Language, asshole.” The ensuing shove and slap fight makes Eddie forget for a brief moment the erotic fruit imagery happening on one of Steve’s parents matching loungers. He lets Dustin win when he goes for Eddie’s hair and gets to run off with his pizza instead.

Eddie can hear the light edge of your laughter and another crunch when you bite through another not-so-ripe part of the nectarine and it sends him right into the pool. He knows he can hover by the edge and keep his interest hidden but also still remain conversational so he does a soft somersault into the deep end. Swims for the side you’re seated on and breaches the water as you decide to lean forward to dig through your big pool bag. Cleavage stares him down and he furiously rubs at his eyes and bitches about the chlorine content to cover the tears he’s sure are streaming down his face. There’s a rivulet of shine along the top of one breast, dipping right down the middle and he imagines running his tongue along it. Chasing that line of sweetness to the inside of your swim top to make you giggle like Robin does with her dumb jokes.

Another bite, more red disappearing to reveal pale pale pale. He wants to peel back that stupid coverup you have wrapped around your waist to reveal your pale thighs. He could rip it back with his teeth too, pull it clean off your body so he could revel in the softness of them. They’d give under his teeth and he’d be so careful leaving only the most perfect love bites.

“Eddie?”

His attention snaps to Robin where she stares at him with concern on her brow. “What?”

“I asked if you ate?”

“I will!” He whines at her and she catches his quick glance at you. Her mouth falls open slightly and he gives her a death glare, a warning to back off he’ll do it himself.

“Dustin’s gonna eat that whole pizza if you aren’t careful.” Robin sings at him and she gets up, tossing a wink his way.

“Not hungry?” You ask him through another bite and he catches a hint of deep pink under the pale. His thoughts race towards the unreachable, the warm pink hidden between your thighs and he wonders if the color is the same.

“Uh” his toes barely graze the bottom of the pool, his arms keeping him clutched to the side and floating “not for Pizza, no.”

Your giggle makes your nose scrunch under your big sunglasses and you hold your hand out, offending fruit held out at eye level for him. “Want a bite?”

The ever suffering sigh he suppresses rivals the eye roll he stops in its tracks. Of course he wants a bite. He wants to fit his teeth in the grooves you left there, taste your spit with the nectar and-

There’s no recovering from the show he’d give everyone if he got out of the water now so he just pulls himself even closer to the tiles. Squeezes his eyes shut tightly, tilts his head and shakes it quick. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Can I get you anything? Steve’s got a bunch of stuff in the house.” You scoot forward and that wrap inches up your legs and splits open to reveal one long calf.

“Could you get me another beer?” He says it a little too quick.

“Totally!”

He watches your hips sway the thin fabric around when you walk up towards the house and maybe he doesn’t hate it so much when it clings to your clammy skin. The swell of your hip holds the door open for Nancy and Eddie wishes it was his head pressed into your side.

He begins to wonder if it’s possible to be too horny.

There’s a jet of water at the back of his head suddenly and he turns to see Lucas holding a water gun.

“Quit sulking.” He jokes and Robin elbows him like she’s gotten him in on a secret.

You’ve obviously gotten distracted inside and he’s fine with that. Gave him time to calm down and roll his tongue back into his mouth after he obliterated Lucas and Robin in the water gun battle. He floats on his back under the midday sun, arms hooked over a float, positive he’s burning but too comfortable to care. The laughter at the other end of the pool is his white noise to drift off to until he feels a shift in the water and he’s being spun ever so slowly to face the steps in the shallow end.

“Sorry, I was talking to Max.” You come into view slowly, a smirk directed down at him while he blinks under his sunglasses.

“Thought you got lost in the mansion.”

You scoff and hold his beer up so he can see it. He lets out a small ‘oh!’ and holds out a hand for it. “Thank you.” He’s still spinning with lazy momentum so he only catches the tail end of your gaze before he takes a sip and almost gives himself a nosebleed. The rim of the bottle is sweet like a stone fruit and when he thrashes around to stand up in the water you’ve already made your way back to dry land.

The sky is painted in purples and blues and when the lightning bugs come out everyone wants the fire pit lit. Steve obliges, ever the host, and the ‘adults’ are left to yell at the ‘kids’ about not wasting all the marshmallows by throwing them at each other.

This close to fall the nights get cooler and you still haven’t put on anymore clothes. Eddie has been watching from his side of the pool, his safety barrier that Robin commented on.

“You’ll never get her from all the way over here, amigo.”

“I’m trying to not embarrass myself, hombre.”

From his post by the deep end he can see you shiver and try to wrap your thin coverup over your shoulders to no avail. Nancy offers her sweater and you roll your eyes and laugh, an obvious gesture between the two of you where you point out her tiny frame. Steve is in the middle of suggesting a blanket when Eddie jumps up from his lounge and yells about a flannel in his van.

“You don’t have to go all the way out front for me!” You holler after him and he waves you off. When he comes back he’s in his own hoodie, his old button up slung over his arm.

“See? No big deal.” He hands it over to you. “I needed my ho-oodie anyways.” He stutters hard when you stand to push your arms through and he can see your nipples pushing against your frankly too small swim top. The swell of your breast disappear from sight, along with the most important thing he’s seen all day when you tuck the flannel around you.

“Thank you so much, can’t believe I forgot real clothes.” You laugh and Eddie laughs and from behind him he can hear Robin laugh and his sandal covered foot reaches back and connects with her shin. You take the stack of graham crackers that Mike offers you before you pause and bury your nose into the crook of the elbow of his shirt. “Did you wear this recently?”

“M-me? Uh, I don’t-I mean-”

“It smells really good.”

Eddie laughs again and Robin yanks the back of his hoodie until he sits hard next to her in one of the plastic chairs.

“You sound like a moron.” She mimics his laugh while spearing a marshmallow.

“I don’t sound like that at all.” Eddie mirrors her movements. “I told you I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

“Well you’re doing a stellar job.” She gives him a sarcastic thumbs up and Eddie decides to just sit and listen. He roasts his marshmallow to a crisp, the s’mores he makes turning into a runny mess that he shoves in his mouth too fast. He can see Robin and Steve share a look and before he can reach over to give Robin a shove, your gentle hand is in his face.

“You got a little….” Your index finger runs along the side of his cheek, puffed out with half chewed s’mores, to wipe off the smear of chocolate there. “There you go.” A smile while you hold your finger in front of him and surely you don’t expect him to lick your finger.

His eyes glance nervously between your face and your proffered finger and never once do you waver. Is that a hint of a dare he catches in your look? Could he inch his tongue out to lap at the pad of your finger? One long lick and he could suck the whole thing into his mouth and really cause a scene out here in the encroaching dark.

A yelp makes both of you jump, a tussle breaking out between the boys and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief knowing every eye was not on him taking the longest pause of his life. You wipe your finger off on a towel and he mourns the loss of an opportunity to taste you again. That brief flavor that lingered on his beer still branded into his mind, the idea of you stealing a sip on the way out to him to deliver it making him grin. Payment in the form of a kiss to glass, at least that’s how he was looking at it.

From his side he can feel two pairs of eyes burning into his skull but he refuses to look at the Wonder Twins and their big dopey eyes they’re probably giving him. Instead he grabs another handful of marshmallows and sets to roasting them, loftily avoiding any questions that might get directed his way.

The night ends late and it ends with the only other available ride being asleep on his couch, face smooshed into Robins shoulder.

“You can see if you can squeeze in with Nancy? But she’s got all the kids.” She whispers at you while Eddie lingers by the door. He’s already said his goodbyes but stopped when he heard you ask about a lift home.

“Uh, well…”

“You can see if you can still catch Eddie.” Robin’s voice sparkles with the ‘sudden’ idea. “I didn’t hear his van yet so he’s probably still out front.” There’s a light snore from Steve that you both giggle at and Eddie tries to open the door as quietly possible.

“Do you think he’d mind?”

“Who Eddie? No, he’d love to. Always trying to help out.”

Eddie rolls his eyes when he gets out in the front step. Could she lay it on thicker? He’s grateful for her slight meddling though when he hears the door open again and your quiet “oh!”

“You haven’t left yet!” You jog to his van where he’s just unlocked the door to lean in on his seat so he can act like he didn’t just hear your predicament.

“No, what’s up?”

“Would you mind dropping me off? I’m a little out of the way but I can pay you for gas.” You start to dig around in your big tote bag and he reaches over to still your hand.

“Don’t worry about it, I got you.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He hops in so he can reach over and unlock your door, and you run around the front of his van.

“I really appreciate it Eddie.” Your movement inside brushes up the smell of woodsmoke off of his borrowed flannel and your sunscreen and he hopes the scent stays in his van long after you leave.

“It’s really not a big deal.” He tries to be smooth with his exit, one hand on the back of your seat while he reverses into the road. “More than happy to help.” He flashes you a smile and his grip almost slips on his steering wheel when he catches the heavy stare aimed at him. He swallows thickly and averts his eyes to the road, the silence settling between you two not uncomfortable but certainly weighted.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me now that I’m in your car?”

He’s happy there’s a red light he was already stopping for because he almost jams his foot through the firewall. “What?!”

Your laugh glitters in the dark cab and he can’t tear his eyes off you.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

“No I haven’t. I helped you with the pizzas and I was talking to you in the pool.” He shakes his head at you. “You got me a beer!”

“Yeah and when I first showed you made a beeline for the kitchen.”

“I was…busy.”

“I’m sure.” Your smile is conspiratorial and he wishes he knew what you were thinking. “Do you know I went shopping for this bathing suit with Robin?” You tap his knee and point at the now green light before the cars behind him start honking.

“No.”

“Yeah, I went with her because we’d been talking you see.”

“As you girls are wont to do.”

“Hush, I’m not done. Anyways, we went shopping and she told me the funniest little thing. Really a coincidence.” The playful tone of your voice makes him vibrate with anticipation. “I’d already told her about my stupid little crush and she’s not very good a keeping secrets, not like that anyways.” He can see you leaning over to rifle through your bag, a scrap piece of paper and a pen held in your lap a moment later. “Really I thought she’d spill to you first but it seems I caught her on a good day.” You reach over and tuck the now folded piece of paper into his hoodie pocket and stay leaned in, face inches from his own. “But I picked it out for you. Did you like it?”

Did he like it.

Does he breathe? Does he blink? You’ve just uttered the words he’s been longing to hear for weeks now. For you. He wasn’t crazy and all of Robin and Steve’s elbowing was just bullying on their part. He tries to keep his breathing under control and spots your street sign in time to use as a distraction. “Uh, yeah it looks great.” He turns into your neighborhood and dials his music down and still can’t look over at your indulgent grin.

“Is that why you were hiding in the pool?”

“…maybe.”

“Oh that’s cute.” You’ve got a curl of his wrapped around your index finger, slowly spiraling it up till you brush his ear and he’s going to crumble to dust. Somehow he makes the turn onto your street while you’re breath tinted with beer and something sweet sweeps over his cheek. “Eddie?” Sugar could drip off of your words and he’d stick his tongue out for every last drop.

“Yeah?”

“I think you should look in your pocket.”

He jams his hand into his hoodie and pulls out the note now crumpled in his sweaty fist just as he pulls up to the front of your house. You don’t move while he unfolds it, his hair slowly unraveling from your finger. It’s your number and a little heart at the end, an ‘X O’ just under that.

“You wanna ask me out?”

It’s gum he realizes, that sweetness that floods his senses. So fruit and beer and gum and spit is what’ll kill him.

“Yeah I-I really do.” Later he’ll kick himself for how pathetic he sounds here but for now the deep smile you give him is all that matters. You let his hair go and grab your stuff to hop out of his van and he watches you walk around the front like it’s his own personal show.

“How’s Friday night sound? I get off work at 7.” When you lean on his rolled down window he gets a clear shot of cleavage between his flannel (that’s now yours, he’s never taking that back). His mouth waters and his eyes shoot back up to your face that tells him he’s been caught.

“I can do that.” He could also climb out of his window and maul you too if you wanted that.

“Cool.”

“I can pick you up at 8?”

You nod as you walk backwards towards the front steps of your house. “I’ll be ready.” The light flicks from the inside, someone keen to get you in. “You figure out dinner, I’ll just bring the legs again, deal?” You lift one behind you when you cross over the threshold, one last smile shot at him and it’s a bullseye right through his frontal lobe.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Can you do a Gigi and Slate fic, pleaseeeeeeeee???

I can’t lie I didn’t really ship these two but you converted me!! I reread their one interaction and tell me why I’m a little bit obsessed…. this was honestly so fun to write, I hope I didn’t disappoint 🤍🤍

title: late night visitor

pairing: mattias slater x gigi grayson

synopsis: mattias slater or as gigi knows him code name: mimosas is one slippery eel who knows how to get exactly what he wants, but when it comes to gigi he’s not himself and neither is she…

warnings:

a/n: this is set an hour or so after chapter 81 of the brothers hawthorne (after she realises grayson has been lying to her)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic

Gigi walks back into her room, wiping the few tears from her cheeks. She’s stronger than this, braver than this, she couldn’t afford to fall apart now. No one could hurt her, not even her brother. She goes into the bathroom and splashes her face with ice cold water.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” she hisses at herself with each splash, “you’re stronger than this.”

She glances at herself in the mirror, the glass reflecting her saddened features. It’s unusual to see herself looking so dimmed down, she was meant to be the light, the happy, jumpy, full of energy Gigi everyone knew her to be. She tentatively prods certain features of her face, maybe to check if they were real, if she could really look this upset. Turns out she could but she can’t afford to be upset-Gigi so she plasters a wide smile on her face, her cheeks still rosy from crying. Her eyes are a little glossy if the light catches them right but she ignores that and focuses on her smile, not letting it waver. She walks out of the bathroom desperately trying to compose herself with each step. Taking her by surprise, she feels herself fall forward, but managed to catch herself before she kisses the floor. Her heart thuds in her chest. Looking back Gigi realises that she must’ve left her phone charger lead out and made a mental note to put it away to eliminate the tripping hazard.

Gigi shivers suddenly, cool air coming into contact with her the exposed skin of her arms, face, neck and collar bone. She walks towards the window which is curiously open. It’s odd, seen as she never remembered leaving it that way. Gently she runs her fingers along the window pain, the patent shine feeling smooth underneath her fingertips, still deep in thought.

“Hello sunshine…”

Gigi yelps out, jumping backwards, in pure shock. She stumbles, landing on top someone. She knows exactly who it is before she even opens her eyes, that voice only belongs to one person.

“Mimosas?” she blurts out before her brain could stop her.

Her sapphire eyes sparkle, wide open. She’s directly on top of the mysterious man she’d encountered down by the pool earlier that evening. The one who was impossibly good looking, that she’d been unable to stop thinking about.

His slick brows furrow and Gigi couldn’t help but notice how the little scar across his right eyebrow inched inwards slightly as well, “what?”

It’s only now she notices how close their faces are to one another’s. In a frenzied surge of panic, she quickly scrambles up and he follows suit, but in a more refined manor. He seems even taller than he had before. Gigi couldn’t help but stare at the way his sun-kissed face complimented his brooding dark eyes or at the mess of honey golden hair on his head, that looked softer than a cloud. Then reality kicks in.

“Did you sneak in here?” Gigi asks, suddenly clocking why the window was open.

“Maybe,” he shrugs delicately.

She folds her arms across her chest, “how?”

“Your window was unlocked,” he replies smoothly, leaning back into the wall behind him.

“And you took that as an invitation?” Gigi asks, the unfiltered words flowing out without permission.

“Maybe,” he says quietly, with a small wink, so fast if she hadn’t been staring so intently into his eyes she might have missed it.

“Are you here to make me the grilled cheese and mimosas you promised?” she cocks her head with an illuminated smile.

“I never promised you them,” he deadpans, his eyes darkening slightly. But Gigi didn’t mind, she actually found she quite liked it.

“Your eyes did,” she sing songs, her smile so wide that she could feel the dried tears on her cheeks. Momentarily she’d forgotten about her pain but this served as a sharp reminder.

“They did not,” he scowls at her.

She couldn’t help but giggle, as the silly, happy, warm feelings that came with interacting with this handsome stranger, flowed through her veins, “one day you’ll admit it, today just isn’t that day.”

“Sure sunshine,” he rolls his ebony eyes.

“Why are you here?” she asks curiously, with a look of innocence about her that wasn’t far off from a small child’s.

“You don’t want me to be?” he quirks his scarred brow upwards and butterflies attack Gigi’s stomach.

“No it’s not that, it’s only I’m curious,” she rushes quickly, “why do want here of all places?”

“You,” he replies, not missing a beat. Like the answer was ingrained into his brain, like it was something he was sure of.

Gigi struggles to form competent words but manages to murmur, “me?”

“Why else would I sneak into your room?” he asks flatly, looking almost bored.

“I’m quite good at pulling reverse heists,” she shrugs, happily “you might want money.”

“I’m not a petty thief, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he shakes his head, “if I wanted to steal, I’d do it with big money and once, I’d also be a lot more discreet than sneaking in someone window.”

“Good to know if a business mysteriously looses all of it’s money and no one can find the culprit that it might be someone I know,” she jokes with her usually infectious grin.

His brooding expression almost twitches but not quite, but she takes it as a smile and feels accomplished.

“Do you want to meet my cat?” she asks excitedly.

“No,” he replies bluntly, staring directly into her ocean eyes.

Gigi grins and drops down to the floor, making encouraging sounds for Katara to find her.

Mimosas looks at her, eyes narrowed, his face pinched and contorted into confusion, “what are you doing?”

“Calling my cat,” she shouts from under the bed.

“I said no,” he groans, probably with an eye roll she imagined.

“You said yes with your eyes,” Gigi replies breathlessly, as she wriggles back out from under her bed. Katara isn’t there.

“What is it with you reading my eyes?” he asks.

“It’s just a talent I have,” she explains, still searching for her beloved cat.

He looks at her, exasperated and a little tired, “I don’t want to meet your cat.”

“There it is again! That sparkle of ‘yes I definitely want to meet your cat and there’s nothing I’d rather do in the moment’,” Gigi says, pointing at his eyes.

“My eyes do not sparkle, sunshine,” he grumbles with a death stare that is so cute she could just pass out on the spot.

“Of course they do, when the light catches those little flecks of golden within the deep brown, almost black, they definitely sparkle,” she analyses.

“Who are you? Shakespeare?” he asks.

“Katara!” Gigi says suddenly, spotting her cat.

“Katara?” he says, utterly confused.

Gigi walks over and picks her up, “it’s my cat,” she shows him smiling.

“Your cat is called Katara?” he asks, his tone dull.

“Well obviously,” Gigi rolls her eyes playfully, kissing Katara on the top of the head, “keep up Mimosas!”

“Mimosas?”

Gigi tactfully ignores the question and talks to Katara instead, “hey sweetie, I missed you today.”

“You’re talking to a cat,” he comments, almost disapprovingly.

“Well she can’t do sign language” she shrugs, “… yet?”

“Yet?”

“Yet,” she confirms with a nod, “here.”

She practically drops Katara in his arms. Disarming people with cats was one of her favourites things to do. Panic flashes across his face and his hands fly out instinctively.

“Woah, hey, I don’t, I can’t-“ he splutters, “I’m going to drop her.”

“No you’re not,” Gigi says, “because I’ve let go.”

He’s silent for a few beats and then grumbles something under his breath sounding annoyed. Gigi grins happily. He looks toward Katara and meets her large sparkling eyes. She tilts her head to one side and he slowly moves a free hand to stroke between her head and ears. Katara purrs affectionately, closing her eyes. He’s gentle, Gigi thought. The way he slowly, almost cautiously pets Katara. He knows how to look after animals. He knew exactly how to hold Katara right, knows exactly when to stroke. Gigi’s heart warms and pulsates this new found attraction for Mimosas’s sweeter side. Besides Katara didn’t trust many. She was very much a cat who’d eye you up before she approached and was cautious about who she let touch her. She liked Gigi of course and Grayson, tolerated Savannah and Acacia but didn’t go near most others. That’s why Gigi had to keep her jaw from dropping when Katara nuzzles into the crook of his neck, rubbing the side of her face lovingly into him. Gigi’s jaw actually did drop when Mimosas looks down at Katara and his expression glistens. A smile.

“You can smile!” she exclaims happily, her stomach doing backflips at the thought of that gorgeous expression. She makes a silent vow to herself that she’d make him smile more often. Selflessly, so he could feel real joy and radiate it and selfishly so she could admire him for it. A win-win in her eyes.

“What?” he says looking up, his face dropped back to his usual sulleness.

“You just smiled,” she says.

“No I didn’t,” he snaps, suddenly finding Katara’s fur far more interesting than Gigi’s eyes.

“It wasn’t a broody twitch like before, that was a smile, a proper smile,” she announces proudly.

“I did not smile,” he scowls, extra hard this time, making it known by each tiny feature that he was severely displeased.

“So cats are the way to your heart, huh?” Gigi grins smugly, winking at Katara who ignores her for more cuddles with Mimosas.

“Cats are not the way to my heart,” he grumbles, as he abruptly stops stroking the leopard looking cat in his arms.

“So what is?” Gigi asks, over Katara’s meows of complaint over lack of attention.

He sighs and slowly obliges to giving the cat a tickle under her neck, “I don’t have time for love.”

“Woah,” she almost choked, “what depressing character have you chosen to play today?”

“I’m serious,” he rolls his eyes, not looking away from Katara.

“Me too,” she replies, “lighten up, use your smile again, it suits your face you know.”

“You didn’t see me smile,” he glowers darkly, making Gigi’s internal swooning-measurer practically smash into smithereens.

“You’re just big softie and you can’t admit it,” she says, hands on her hips.

“I am not a softie,” he snarls.

Gigi suppresses a girlish giggle, “your eyes are screaming you are.”

“Stop looking at my eyes,” he hisses, turning his back to her.

“Why?” she laughs, stepping into his eye-line again.

“Because maybe I want to look at yours for a change,” he says, catching her off-guard.

Gigi’s heart leaps out of her chest and all of the air is suddenly knocked out of her. She did not expect that.

“No one’s stopping you,” she murmurs.

Onyx meets sapphire and in that moment there is only silence. Not even Katara purrs in the background. It feels like there’s an outer force meaning that they can’t pull away from the intense stare at one another. The fixated gaze holds for what feels like decades. Gigi feels like she’s in a surreal interstellar universe where one she and him exist. She could write essays just about his eyes, his face not even factoring into it yet.

“You like cats,” she says after a while, cursing herself for being so awkward.

“They’re okay,” he replies, scratching Katara’s belly.

She purrs happily in his arms, moving around in an attempt to get closer to his body.

“She’s pretty,” he murmurs to no one in particular, his voice sounding distant and so unlike his usual tone. It was soft and gentle, almost nice, like it had been sweetened by the honey-colour of his hair. For some reason, Gigi finds her face flushed at the sight of him like this, curled up with a cat in his arms, murmuring his beautiful she is.

Katara wriggles to be free of his grasp, suddenly tired of being so fussed over. He carefully places her on the floor and the bengal struts off elsewhere. Gigi goes to follow her but flies forwards at an alarming speed. Damn that stupid phone charger. She barely has time to comprehend that she’s falling before her face is inches from the floor. Just as she’s convinced she will hit the carpet, a hand catches her lower back and flips her quickly to meet a pair of dark concerned eyes that makes her insides go like jelly.

He pulls her upright but doesn’t remove his hands from her waist. In fact, she’s sure he pulls her a little closer to him. She bites back a small gasp and gets lost into his mysterious voids for eyes, like black holes containing a million stories. She can feel the warmth of his hands through the material of her trousers and how her face is hotter than usual.

“My brother won’t like this,” she says suddenly, as a rush of guilt hit her.

She feels like she shouldn’t be doing this, like she is Eve biting into the forbidden fruit, that turns sour on her tongue.

“What?”

“You, being here,” she clarifies.

“And why do you care?” he asks.

“I don’t know…” she trails off, the answer suddenly coming to her, like an instinct, “he’s my brother.”

A ghost of a smirk plays on his features, not quite surfacing properly, “he doesn’t know everything.”

“I guess not,” she replies.

“And he doesn’t have to know about this,” he says, his voice so low and dangerous a shiver runs down Gigi’s spine.

“Why did you sneak in?” she questions, curiosity and some sort of hope eating her away.

“Your windows are surprisingly easy to open,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I should get that looked at,” she speaks her immediate thoughts aloud, without thinking.

“Why? Don’t you want me to visit you again?” he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“No… I mean yes,” she splutters, “I mean…I don’t know.”

“Well leave the offer open and I might take it, bolt your windows and I’ll bolt too,” he tells her, his voice serious and strong.

“Okay.”

He stares for a few moments, his eyes intensely pinned to her. Slowly he takes a fingertip and drags it softly against her collarbone, his other hand still gripping onto her waist. Gigi tries very hard not to explode.

“Why so sad, sunshine?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m not sad,” she laughs.

“You’ve been sad ever since I’ve been here,” he says, dropping his hand back down to her waist.

“No I haven’t,” she shakes her head, widening her smile.

“I can see past your smile.”

The words hit harder than they should. Like a punch to the stomach. No one is meant to see past her smile but herself, no one is meant to know Gigi without a smile. And somehow this stranger who’d she only encountered once before knew her better than most people in her daily life.

“He lied to me,” she tells him in barely a whisper, admitting her pain out loud for the first time.

“I warned you to be careful,” he says quietly, eyebrow raised. The attractive little scar distracting Gigi momentarily.

“I thought I could trust him,” she says, her voice shaking slightly.

“In this world you can’t trust anyone,” he replies

“Not even you?” she asks, eyelashes softly fluttering.

“Especially not me,” he says a little too seductively.

She bites the inside of her cheek, “I never though Grayson would lie to me.”

“It’s the people we never thought would hurt us, that hurt us the most,” he murmurs, his voice stone cold. He says it like he understands how it feels.

Gigi knew that tone, that expression on his face all too well. A numbness that was trying to disguise a much deeper pain, Savannah did this all the time.

“Has anyone ever hurt you?” she asks him, a surgery sweet innocence laced into her tone.

“I don’t get hurt sunshine,” he shakes his head with a bitter chuckle.

“Everyone gets hurt,” she says, eyes swimming with concern.

“Hey, want to do something illegal?” he asks, changing the subject, “it might cheer you up.”

“Oh I only do illegal things when I’m heavily caffeinated,” she tells him.

“I can buy you a coffee,” he says, dark eyes sparkling.

“Are you asking me on a date?” she winks, a burst of foreign flirtatiousness coming over her all of a sudden.

“I don’t know, am I?” he replies.

“What’s your name?” Gigi asks, suddenly very aware she only knew this man as code name: Mimosas.

“Why do you need to know my name when you can taste my lips?” he whispers.

“What-“

Gigi had never been kissed before. Boys didn’t look at her, they looked at Savannah. She’d never even got this close to one, let alone had her lips on another’s. She’d never imagined a kiss to feel like this. His lips were soft and slightly sweet and she so naturally melted into his hold. There was no sense of awkwardness or hesitation. They were sure of each other. When Duncan kissed Savannah it was short and ragged but this was nothing like this. This was long and passionate and meaningful. Gigi could feel something, deep in her chest, it was a fluttery warmth of a spark that burning so feverishly she couldn’t ignore. It made her want more, kiss deeper. So she does. Mimosas seems surprised at first, almost hesitant but within a few seconds he too is deepening their connection.

Her lungs scream in protest, craving oxygen but her brain tunes them out for as long as she can hold on for. When she truly can’t breathe, she is forced to pull away, heaving for oxygen. Mimosas is every bit as breathless as she is, she can feel his heart racing through his shirt, pressed up against her. Gigi is prepared to go in for seconds kiss but he doesn’t initiate it. He only presses his forehead against hers and stares into her eyes.

“Don’t forget me, sunshine,” he murmurs. And just like that he was gone.

Gigi stood still frozen in the exact position she’d been in moment for, paralysed in shock. Her lips tingled with the taste of him, an experience that her again was new. She couldn’t believe she’d just been kissed, that someone had actually chosen her. Her heart swells to double its normal size, full of feelings she’d never imagined before. She has to re-teach herself how to breathe after realising she’d been holding her breath for so long.

‘Don’t forget me, sunshine.’ The words replay in her head like a broken record, the low hum of his soothing voice, rings a beautiful melody through her ears and deep into her chest, where her heart thuds on. She gently runs her fingertip over her bottom lip, closing her eyes. Had it all been real or was she imagining it? She rushes to the wide open window and looks out into the night. Sure enough, in the sea of black, she sees him, illuminated by the moonlight. He looks back at her and their eyes lock from what feels like a million miles away. Time seems to still and neither one of them move a muscle. Gigi blinks once and then he is truly gone.

Gigi wanders back into her room and sits on the edge of her bed, laying back. She doesn’t know his name, or where he’s from, what he likes or his favourite colour. But she does know one thing, there was no way that she’d ever forget this.



a/n: IDKKK IF I GOT THE DYNAMIC RIGHT!!?? LIKE THERE’S LITERALLY ONE SCENE WHERE YHEYRE TOGEYHER SO JM NOT SURE!?? but hey I tried 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[daengtokki]

𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 7.1k

rating: Mature, NON-explicit (part 2)

→ PART ONE

Part 2 of 4

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

- Seungmin is tired.

Car rides are his worst enemy if he’s trying to stay awake, especially if he ends up in the backseat. His head keeps swaying side to side. The ride is far too smooth, and he feels like a baby being lulled to sleep.

The car turns left, then right, then right again. He doesn’t need to feel it come to a stop to know he’s home.

As happy as he is to finally be done with traveling—for now, he doesn’t think he has the energy to get himself back on two feet.

He hits his neatly made bed immediately. No unpacking, no snack, no checking text messages. There is zero time between thinking about sleep and passing out; there is only a deep dreamless sleep.

____

It’s dark and warm in his room when he wakes up. His eyes stay closed tight, but he can feel how late it is. He knows he’s been sleeping far too long. Nobody bothered waking him for dinner or checking up on him, because that would have been useless. He doesn’t even mind that he missed the Giants game.

He feels much better now, until he looks down at his phone to check the time. The first problem is it’s already past midnight. The second problem is he has 43 notifications to open.

Seungmin scans over them to see if he missed anything important. Most of them look deletable, but a few he duly notes, and definitely needs to answer in the morning.

He opens the text from Choonhee, though.

Are you here for the long weekend?

He doesn’t mind texting her this late. He sends back a quick response without much thought: “I’m here until Wednesday!

Time to shower and eat.

Seungmin stands in the shower for a good fifteen minutes—clearing his mind, easing the tension he always holds in his shoulders— before finally, somewhere in the back of his memory, the part where he puts things and never ever remembers them…he remembers something.

“Oh…” he cups his face in his hands and scrubs at his cheeks, “shit.”

He takes his time getting out. An extra half an hour accidentally ignoring you isn’t going to make much of a difference now. Hair gets dried; fresh clothes thrown on. He clicks the fan in his bedroom so it pushes the warm air around. The cool night air is at least trying to find it’s way in.

Now he notices how hungry he is. Might as well find something in the kitchen before getting into a conversation. One that goes well, hopefully.

A bowl of oi-muchim, a beer, and his phone in hand, Seungmin makes himself comfortable on the couch. He pulls up Choonhee’s text messages again and hopes she still awake…

“Is it too late to text her? Do you think she’s up?”

He sends it off and tries not to watch his phone for her reply. He clicks the tv on and eats, but before his second bite, his phone goes off.

She won’t mind if it’s you

Seungmin hopes Choonhee’s right. And hopes you’ll still actually want to speak after two months of accidental silence.

Now he puts his food down, drinks some of his beer, and thinks…”what am I supposed to say at one in the morning?” He mumbles it to himself. But he starts typing anyway, letting his thumbs and his heart do the work. If he thinks too much, nothing will ever come out.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m texting you so late. And also sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. I’m in town for a few days if you’re interested in seeing each other.”

He reads it and rereads it. Then sends it away. It’s the best he can do.

The rest of the night is nothing but a long wait. The nap he took served perfectly as a good nights sleep, so the next few hours are spent catching up on baseball highlights, finishing a drama, and then silently obsessing over whether or not he’ll get a text back while a new show plays out in front of him .

At 7:30, Seungmin’s phone buzzes in his hand. He’s sound asleep, but still holding onto it. It wakes him right away, but it takes a moment before he can remember where he is, and what he’s doing there. Too much sleep makes his head fuzzy, and yesterday and this morning must have been a combined eleven hours.

He looks at the notification and remembers. Only the name on the screen registers in his mind before he unlocks his phone and sits up. He shakes the sleep from his head and rubs his eyes before reading…

I would love to see you

A sigh of relief. You’re not mad. Seungmin’s heartbeat picks up in his chest as he types.

“Tonight? Or today. Any time is good.”

This reply takes a little longer. He gets up to change just in case he has to run out the door to meet you. Your reply comes a few minutes later. Seungmin reads it as he’s jumping into his shorts.

I’m free all day. Do you want to come over for breakfast?

“Come over for breakfast? Are you going to make me breakfast?” he thinks out loud. He’s hoping that’s what you mean.

“I’ll be there in an hour”

____

Your internal alarm hates you. At precisely 7:25, you’re awake. Even on the weekends, you can’t sleep in. It takes a couple of minutes before you can even think about moving, but the warmth in the room and the sun peeking in eventually forces you up. You can only take so much.

Your phone, charging on the nightstand, buzzes softly. Probably an email. It buzzes again. You thought you put it on sleep mode last night, but maybe not. It’s a miracle nothing woke you up. You grab it and unplug it…

Email Spam email Work email you never opened or cleared Instagram

Text from Seungmin

“Seungmin,” you say his name out loud in case you’re still a little bit asleep. Seungmin, who you haven’t had a text from in months; who has probably been very busy and very tired when he isn’t busy, sent you a text at one in the morning.

You open it quickly, butterflies in your stomach, and read. You read it a few times. His texts are always a little longer, never one or two words. And you always read him in his voice. You’ve listened to him singing and speaking enough now that you hear it in your sleep. You don’t have to think much about your reply.

“I would love to see you”

____

There’s little time to pick up the apartment and figure out what you’re going to make for him. You do your best with what little time you have. Shower, hair, makeup…outfit. You probably should have given yourself a little more time. Too late now, he’ll be on his way soon.

It’s been nearly seven months since your blind date, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. The time between his last text and today somehow felt longer. You feel like it’s going to be a first impression all over again, so you really want to give him your best. Maybe even better than last time, now that you know what you’re getting into.

In the kitchen, you start pulling things out to make, and you’re relieved to find you have something to cook for him.

You hope he likes American breakfast. You do know he likes coffee. Just a few days ago a care package came from your parents; coffee, snacks…things you miss from home. You pull out the bag of beans and start grinding.

Minutes later, or at least it feels like minutes, (the full hour, plus 20 extra minutes, has passed) you hear you phone buzz. Before you can get to it, the intercom buzzes. You grab your phone and run to the door.

“Hi I’m here”

You smile at his message and let him into the lobby before texting back, “543.” You’re surprised and a little flattered that he remembered where your building was and was confident enough to come without even confirming.

He sends a smiling emoji in reply.

Your back is against the door, eyes closed. Your picturing him walking to the elevator, pushing the button, waiting…

The elevator here is pretty slow…

He gets on and hits the 5th floor button. It comes straight up without stopping, considering the early hour. Everyone else in this building is definitely sleeping in. He turns right and walks, maybe a little hesitantly, toward your apartment, looks at the number on the door, then at your text.

He knocks gently. Three soft little knocks. You take in a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. The deadbolt clicks.

When you crack the door he’s smiling down at you. You pull it open the rest of the way and stand there awkwardly for a moment. You feel like one of your eight-year-olds trying to find the right words in English. You stupidly breath out a wow and desperately hope he didn’t hear it

He stands there with one hand in the pocket of his shorts. The other hand is holding a paper bag. He swings it a little as he takes a careful step over your threshold.

“Morning.” You finally manage to say.

“Good morning,” he closes the door behind him, and his smile grows as he moves closer to you.

His face looks a little different. It’s been long enough that you’re thinking his braces have changed his smile, or maybe he’s just gotten older. The spring sun has turned his skin a few shades darker compared to October. His hair is dark and straight across his forehead; different then the last time you saw him. You’ve also gotten used to seeing him only in videos and photos. None of that does him justice. In front of you, he’s better—and you forgot how much better.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin reaches his hand toward you as if he’s going to touch your cheek, but he stops just short of you, and his hand falls slowly.

“Yeah, yeah…sorry,” you set your hand on your face where his hand should have been. “I uhhm,” you still can’t seem to find the right words. So much for a new first impression. Now what?

You put your other hand around his waist and pull yourself to him. You’re relieved when he reciprocates the embrace. He holds onto you for a while, not letting up on his grip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”

Even though you had plenty of old texts to return to; to re-convince yourself that Seungmin liked you and wanted to see you again, you still needed this physical reassurance. The last two months were a lot more lonely than you care to admit, and part of you was starting to let go.

“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”

“Still a bad excuse.” He loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t let go completely. The bag he’s holding shakes a little in his hand. “I brought this for you.”

“Another gift? You’re making me look bad.” You slide away from his grip (very reluctantly) and head toward the kitchen.

“Well, you did make me coffee. It smells good.”

Seungmin follows closely behind. The kitchen is a little bit of a mess, but cooking and cleaning at the same time is not one of your strong suits. You grab a few things and toss them in the trash, the sink, the dishwasher. You don’t even realize he’s right behind you until you turn again to grab two clean glasses.

“I can bring you your coffee. It’s a mess in here, you don’t need to see this.”

“Oh I don’t mind. You are definitely a messy cook, though. You should clean as you go!”

“Believe me, I try.” You pour the cooled coffee into a glass over ice. “I hope you like this…have you ever had Kona coffee?”

Seungmin shakes his head and smiles. You briefly wonder if he realizes how cute it is, then you pour some for yourself, “I’m sure you’ll like it.” He takes it from you and follows as you lead him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

You sit. He sits, and sips his coffee, then adjusts so he’s a little closer to you.

“How long have you been in town?” You bring your knees up to your chest and turn your body to him.

“I got in yesterday afternoon, but I fell asleep and woke up very late.”

“Oh, that explains the late text.”

“Yes, hopefully it didn’t wake you. Choonhee told me you wouldn’t mind if I texted you so late.”

“It didn’t wake me up. It was a nice surprise this morning.”

He’s bouncing his legs up and down; knees are moving together, then apart, then together again. A nervous tick, maybe. All you do know is that the movement of his thighs is distracting. You tear your eyes away, and when you do, he’s looking at you.

“How have you been?” He asks, and he’s not just making conversation. The way he speaks is sincere. “Anymore blind dates?” He whispers the last part.

“Oh, no…no,” you stare into your coffee and shake your head. “Nothing special, not since our date.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

“I did keep up with you. I caught a few of your lives, checked YouTube for new videos…”

Seungmin laughs and lays his head back against the couch, “next time we don’t see each other for a while, I will call, and we can have a real live.”

“Is that a promise?”

He thinks for a moment, “yes, promise. I’ll be a better texter…also.” He adjusts and moves himself a little closer to you.

“I’ll take either.”

“I think I just…don’t know what to say sometimes. I don’t want to say something stupid, so I don’t say anything at all. And then I forget.”

“I don’t mind if you say something stupid.” You reach out and move a piece of hair out of Seungmin’s eyes. “I’d prefer it, actually. Then I can say something stupid back.”

He tilts his head and his hair falls back over his eyes. “Good to know.”

“Are you hungry?” You move his hair again.

He looks at you without answering for a very long moment. His eyes are impossibly big and dark; bottom lip a little bit red from biting down on it. Your eyes jump from the beauty mark on his cheek (you’re also thinking about how nice it is to finally see him again without makeup), to his eyes, his nose, his lips. His hair swings back down in front of his eyes.

He brings his hand up and attempts to fix his hair, but he just shakes his head again and smiles, “yes, I am. Very hungry.”

“I guess you can help me finish up,” you reach for his hand, which he happily takes, and lead him back to the kitchen. You prepped everything, but wanted it to be fresh when you sat down to eat.

“What are we having?” He looks at the counter. Four thick slices of bread and a bowl of something milky, eggs. “Oh these I can do,” Seungmin picks up an egg and holds it next to his face. “I can fry a good egg.”

“Okay, that’s your job.” You freshen his coffee while he examines the half dozen eggs in front of him. “Make however many you want.”

“Can I make all of them?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I have more if that’s not enough.”

“French toast?” He examines the milky batter next to the slices of bread. “I’ve had it before, but not for a very long time.”

“Is that okay? I can always make something else.” You turn the burner on low and let the pan get warm.

“No, I want to try your french toast.”

You reach for the butter, taking great care to reach around him by placing your hand on the belt of his shorts. He watches you closely as you dip each slice of bread into the batter, and when the butter melts completely, place them neatly in the pan.

“Nice sizzle,” he whispers. And then he laughs when you laugh. “Oh, I’m doing the eggs…” He turns his burner on low, butters his pan, and cracks four of the six eggs.

Seungmin looks at you, “I don’t want to crowd them.” He nods his head at two intact eggs. “They can wait.”

“You’re the expert.”

“They will be good, I promise.”

“Even if they’re bad, I’m sure I’ll love them.”

You hear him laugh as you tend to the French toast, shaking on the cinnamon, flipping them when they’re just crispy and brown. Seungmin ooohs at them as he seasons his eggs.

“Do you prefer maple syrup or…honey?”

“Hm?” He flips the eggs carefully and takes them off the heat before turning to the selection of toppings you’re setting out.

“Can you turn my burner off?”

He clicks it off, and Seungmin finds his way to the cupboard to get a plate. He gently sets his finished eggs onto it and cracks the remaining ones into the warm pan.

“Do you like maple syrup, or do you want honey?”

“Oh…maple syrup! And strawberries.”

“And whipped cream?”

“Dessert for breakfast…” he takes one of the strawberries and bites into it.

____

You have one dining table in your tiny apartment. It has two chairs, and it’s right next to the large picture window that sits just between the kitchen and the living room. Outside is a limited view of the city. It’s nice, though. And you can afford it.

Seungmin is watching the city slowly start to move, chin resting in the palm of his hand. He has a smile on his face–it’s very subtle on his lips, but not in his eyes. You made him sit while you got the rest of the food ready, and eventually, he listened.

“Is this enough strawberries?”

He looks at you first and smiles, then at his plate. “Yes, thank you,” he waits for you to sit before whispering jal meokgetseumnida and when you pick up your fork, he follows. Seungmin opted for maple syrup, strawberries, whipped cream. He goes for the whipped cream first, eating a forkful by itself.

“Did you make this, too?” He takes another bite of it, this time with a big piece of strawberry.

You nod.

“It’s very good, it’s not too sweet.” He cuts into his French toast now, getting a bite of all three at once.

“If everything is too sweet, it ruins it.”

“Sometimes…” he says in a singsong voice, almost a whisper.

You sneak glances at him between your own bites. He’s a quiet eater this morning, but you’re comfortable sitting there with him in the silence.

“How has work been?”

“Kind of crazy.” He takes a drink of his coffee, “we will be in Japan in two weeks, and then to the US after that.” Seungmin nods to himself and divides the four eggs between you.

They do look perfect and exactly how you usually make them. Over-easy. “That’s exciting…but I’m sure it’s very exhausting.”

He picks one up and shoves the entire thing in his mouth. You can tell he wants to speak as soon as he does it, but he chews patiently. “I wouldn’t want to do anything else, but some days it is a lot. And very tiring.”

He rests his face in his hands again. He finished his food. Now he’s looking at you with the same tired eyes he’s given you before. 

“Thank you for making time for me.” You say.

He sits back in his seat, smiles, shakes his head a little.

You look at him questioningly. His mannerism are cute, but you’re not quite sure how to interpret them sometimes. “What is it?”

“I’m happy to be here.”

“You are?” When you stand to clean off the table, he stands with you to help. You let him.

“Yes,” he bites into another strawberry when he gets to kitchen sink with his dishes. “I like you. You're...you're relaxing to be around. I don't feel any pressure here."

You look at him and smile, unsure of how to respond at first. "Thank you." It's not enough of a reply, you know that, but you're a little lost for words.

"Is that a weird thing to say?"

"No! Not at all. It might be the sweetest complement a date has ever given me."

Seungmin follows you wordlessly to the living room, and sits when you sit. You move a little closer to him and relax, hoping he continues to mimic you. And he does.

“Can I ask you something…um,” he purses his lips as he thinks, covers his cheeks with his hands. “Something personal I guess. Kind of. Maybe not really personal but-”

“Yes, of course you can.” You take one of his hands away from his face and hold it in yours. It’s starting to feel like the first date, except now he seems a little different than last time. Maybe he’s worn out from performing. Maybe it’s just an off day.

He’s looking down at his hand clasped in yours, “do you ever feel like, um…I guess it’s hard to put into English.”

“That’s okay, we can use whatever words feel best for you.”

Seungmin can’t help but smile at that, and a tiny laugh escapes. “I almost forgot, you teach kids. You do sound like a teacher.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I mean…whichever language.” You pull his hand closer to you and put your other hand over it. “I’m sure between us we can figure it out.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“What’s bothering you?” You squeeze his hands even harder.

“I don’t know if you will, but if you ever meet my friends…the other members.” He stops for a moment to look at you.

You nod at him, but at the same time you’re completely unprepared for that statement. Meeting his friends? It's a big jump from where you're at right now.

“I guess I’m worried you might like them more than you like me.” His head falls back on the couch and he covers his eyes with his free hand. He sighs loudly.

“Why would you think that?” You pull him closer and shake him a little, “Seungmin…Seungmin, what do they call you when they don’t call you Seungmin?”

You get him to laugh, at least.

“Minnie,” he looks at you through his fingers. He says it again under his breath. “Min…puppy.”

“Puppy?” you scoot even closer to him, until you can almost set your chin on his shoulder. "Puppy."

He closes the gap a little.

Your forehead is almost touching his. You hold his eyes there. Then you kiss the bridge of his nose.

He leans forward and sets his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. His hair is tickling your ear, and his lips are brushing against your skin. You’re certain he can hear your blood pumping through your veins.

He lets out a long sigh. You don’t really want to say anything, you’d prefer it if the two of you could just stay like this for a little bit longer. And suddenly thinking of him leaving again (for another six months, maybe) gives you a horrible sinking feeling in your stomach.

But you need to talk to him.

“Why do you think that?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds as he searches for the right words. “There are eight of us…and sometimes I end up feeling, uhm…”

There's a long pause while you both think. He's searching for the words; you're searching his mind and his face.

”Do you feel like you're stuck behind everyone sometimes?” You think that’s what he’s getting at. You can see it in his eyes.

”Yes, I guess so. I mean, I know I am not as popular.”

It’s a hard comment for you to respond to, but the sad smile on his face makes you a little angry. Not at him, just at every single person outside of your apartment. 

“Well, you’re my favorite.”

A hesitant smile appears.

Your hands close around either side of his face, and you graze your fingertips over his ears, “I’m sure the others are great, and I’m sure I could be friends with them someday...but they’re not you, and I already told you we wouldn’t make very good friends.”

You’re not sure why him being vulnerable and honest is suddenly, making you so bold, but you’re not going to question it. He’s quiet and calm as you speak, so you must be doing something right.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” You hope he believes you, but you also aren’t a stranger to the hesitant feelings he’s obviously processing. “And I wish you could stay.”

“I can stay today!”

____

Seungmin falls asleep on your couch again. This time, though, he’s lying comfortably with his face shoved into one of your pillows and his curled up legs are almost on your lap. It’s a small couch.

You put a movie on, but he didn’t last more than a half an hour. It’s been two hours now, and you really don’t want to wake him. You’re certain he’ll get up on his own soon.

The kitchen is clean, the movie is over. You’re a little tired yourself, honestly, but you don’t think you could fall asleep while he’s here and almost in your lap. He’s a quiet sleeper, and he’s hardly moved, but you can hear his big sighs every few times he exhales.

He shifts a little when your hand touches his leg, but he settles back down immediately, and is out again. Even when your palm slides over his skin, he doesn’t move.

The soft buzz of his phone doesn’t wake him, either. But it’s going off again, and it’s the third time. You’re wondering if it’s important, but you don’t want to pry.

You run your hand over his leg again. Still nothing. It goes off again—this time it’s ringing. You can see the name on the screen without looking very hard.

“Seungmin…” You whisper. This time you gently drag your fingertips across his skin. “Seungmin?”

A little groan. His leg stretches out across your thigh. You squeeze his calf a bit and he seems to react, but not enough, so you gently move him and get up.

“Seungmin?” You kneel down until you’re face to face with him. He looks so peaceful and content, and while you hate to disturb him, you’re kind of looking forward to him slowly waking up. Saying his name isn’t getting through, though, so you place the tip of your finger at his temple and lightly trace a line down the side of his face.

A raspy mmm is all you get in return.

You bury your fingers in his hair and comb through it, kneading into his scalp a little. “Minnie?” You move down toward his neck, knead a little more, this time into a soft part of his shoulder.

His eyes open slowly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as they readjust to the sunlight in the room. He looks around before his gaze settles on you, and for the briefest moment he seems lost. But then he remembers where he is, and he smiles at you.

“Hi,” his voice is sleepy and raspy, like he hasn’t used it in a long time. He closes his eyes again.

“No no, eyes open.”

“I’m awake,” he mumbles.

“Look at me,” you lean toward his face until your noses are almost touching.

Eyes open again and he blinks a few times. “Are you gonna kiss me?” He asks, and the sleepiness in his voice is unbearable.

Yes, if he wants you to, you will kiss him. You lick your lips. But first, “your mom is calling you.”

“Oh, she’s probably wondering why she hasn’t seen me since I got home.”

“Do you want me to call and tell her you’re busy?”

Seungmin laughs and finally seems to be fully awake. He shakes his head and slowly sits himself up. “Do I have bedhead?” He rubs his eyes and runs his hands through his hair.

“A little bit.” You comb a hand through it and fix his part, “it’s cute, though.”

“Nooo it’s not,” he flattens it more and lays back against the couch. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“You apologize too much.”

“Do I?”

You nod and sit down next to him, “I’m glad you were comfortable enough here to fall asleep.”

“Did I snore?” He looks a little embarrassed.

“No, you were pretty quiet. You kicked a few times, though.”

He almost apologizes, but stops himself and picks up his phone. He reads through his messages and eventually types a reply to one of them. Then he turns to you, “what should we do now that I’m well rested? Are you tired?” He throws his phone down and turns the rest of his body to you, “did you sleep at all?”

“I didn’t sleep, but I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should rest,” he smiles and tilts his head. “I can leave for a while and come back, if you’d like.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave.”

He nods, “We can try another movie,” Seungmin relaxes on the couch, pillow at his side, and extends an arm. “And if you fall asleep, we’ll be even.”

You stare at him for a long moment. It’s not until he beckons you with his hand that you realize it’s an invitation to cuddle up to him. And you take it without another moment of hesitation.

Your cheek settles against his chest, open hand spread out over his stomach. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in a little tighter.

“Are you comfortable?” He grazes his fingertips over your forearm, very slowly, as if he’s still testing the limit of touch between you.

“I am.” You feel the goosebumps jump up on your skin, and Seungmin runs his fingers over you again, like he notices.

He does notice. You hear a breathy little laugh come from him. “Good.”

Now you think you could definitely fall asleep. He’s warm, but a good warm; not like the summer heat moving around the room. You push your face further into the space under his arm and inhale.

“What should we try to watch? Maybe something funny.”

He browses through Netflix. Meanwhile, you can feel yourself slowly slipping into sleep. But you don’t want to fall asleep. Sleeping now would just be wasted time with Seungmin, so you adjust yourself and sit up a little more.

He sits up, too. His eyes are big and a little worried.

“I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Okay, how can we keep you awake then?”

You stare at him thoughtlessly for a few seconds. Then you feel like maybe you’re blushing because he probably (probably?) isn’t thinking the same thing your sexually frustrated mind is thinking. Now you can’t get the thought out of your head. You try not to breath out like you’ve just been holding your breath for too long.

He grins a little, so you think the thought may have crossed his mind after he said it. But he stays quiet.

“Maybe we can…go for a walk,” you say it as you exhale and then take a steady breath in. At the same time, your brain is slowly unbuckling his belt and lifting his shirt. “We should go for a walk.”

“Okay, that sounds nice.”

____

It’s warm out, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

You changed into something to show a little more skin, because you might as well try to get his mind where yours is. He may not even be interested in going there.

“So, are you allowed to date yet?” It comes out before you even decide if it’s a good thing to bring up.

Seungmin giggles. You look at him and see him covering his mouth with his hand, but the smile in his eyes is obvious.

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere…”

“It’s alright. You can ask me anything you want,” he shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his walk a bit.

“Okay, I’ll just throw questions at you as I think of them.”

“Good,” he stops and bounces on the balls of his feet, “ we should get some boba.”

You were already concerned about Seungmin being recognized on your walk, and going into a boba place seems like the most obvious way for him to be seen. But you’re not going to tell him no.

“Maybe I should go in and get us both something, it seems a little busy in there.”

“If that makes you feel better, yes.”

“It doesn’t. I just don’t want you to get any unwanted attention.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” He brushes his hand against your arm and leads you across the street. “I’m not as popular or recognizable as you might think.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“If nobody expects to see me, they’ll miss me,” he hops up on the curb like a kid. It feels like he becomes more and more relaxed as the day goes on. “But…” he pulls a black face mask from his back pocket and loops it around his ears. “I’ll be much happier if you’re more comfortable.”

____

The sun is coming through the trees and leaving freckles of light over Seungmin’s face and chest. His eyes are closed, hands propping him up as he leans back and stares up at the sky.

You’ve been meaning to ask the question bouncing around in your head for several minutes, but you can’t stop staring at him like this. You reach out and gently shake his foot until he looks at you.

“Hey, sorry…I didn’t mean to get quiet.”

“I have a question.”

He sits up fully and smiles, “oh I never answered you before. No dating. Openly. Technically.” He says it like he’s not sure if he’s using his English words correctly. “Maybe that wasn’t the question.”

“It wasn’t, but I did want to know that, too.” You sip your drink and think about your question again. You had it ready to go, but Seungmin said the word openly and you lost it. “Do you know that I’m older than you?”

“No, I didn’t know. But I don’t mind.” He gets on his hands and knees and crawls closer to you. “If you don’t mind that I’m younger.”

A breeze picks up and his hair is swept across his forehead. He tousles it a little until his bangs fall back in front of his eyes.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t,” the question starts forming in your head again. “Would you ever consider dating, uhm, me? I mean, let’s say you weren’t who you are and we still somehow met. Is that something you’d…consider?

Seungmin looks at you, and his eyes have certainly never been this big before. His ears and cheeks are slowly turning red. And he’s quiet. His mouth opens a bit, but no words come out. You’re afraid you asked the stupidest question you could have possibly thought of.

You made it weird.

“You don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. Please pretend I never said that.” You lift your knees to your chest and bury your face in the space there. You whimper a little to yourself and hope he doesn’t hear it.

“That’s a tough one.”

You can’t see his face, but you can imagine it.

In reality, he’s thinking and playing with his straw. Still blushing, still smiling. If you’d just lift your head and look at him, you’d see that he’s unable to contain his smirk.

“Let’s go back to you looking up at the sky and me not talking.” You relax as much as possible and your back gently hits the grass. You spread yourself out, hoping to sink into the ground.

“No,” he sips his drink and leans back on one hand. “You asked, now it’s out there forever.”

You peek up at him briefly and see his face in the sun again; eyes closed but smirk still tugging at his lips. Quiet and thoughtful.

“Seungmin?”

No answer. You look back at the sky, but you can hear him moving and getting closer. His shadow blocks the sun from your eyes, so you open them.

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay if you wouldn’t.”

Still no answer. Your eyes close again, and then he lays down next to you. It’s a nice moment, or it would be. The birds are singing and there’s the sound of the wind through the trees. The only other people around are far enough away that you can barely hear them.

You feel like you could cry.

Maybe he just isn’t very good at letting people down. He can’t find the right words to tell you it would never work, and that’s understandable, really. He’s sweet and thoughtful and kind. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He just wants to be friends.

You cover you eyes with both hands and sigh as quietly as possible.

“I would, but…I don’t know…” he hmmms and uumms a few times. “Nobody has ever asked me out before.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe much.”

"If that's true, it's because you're intimidating."

"Me?" He's trying not to laugh. "I'm not intimidating! Am I? Is it my face? Do I look angry?"

"Okay, wrong word to use. You're too handsome to approach, I mean. I would have never, on my own, started a conversation with you had I seen you at that coffee shop by yourself."

Now you sit up and shade him from the sun. There’s a stray eyelash on his cheek, so you lean forward to gently blow it off.

His eyes flutter open. "I am not too handsome to approach." He whispers and lets himself laugh out loud.

“Okay fine…so I’m your first.”

“So you’re not taking it back?”

“You mentioned meeting your friends earlier. Did I interpret that wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“Then no, I guess I’m not taking it back.”

----

The trip back is not awkward. You expected him to keep his distance, physically and mentally, but he walks almost shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time. He hasn’t given you any type of answer yet, but you’re not worried about it. Part of you still wants to take it back and let things flow at a slower pace. This is, after all, only your second date. The other part of you is already on fire. It’s a tough line to walk.

Inside the apartment it’s gotten much warmer, and you regret not starting the AC before leaving. It’ll take forever to cool down now. You close the windows, lower the shades, and pull the curtains closed. Then you head to the couch and collapse onto it.

Seungmin makes himself at home by heading to the bathroom, then finding himself (and you) something cold to drink. You’re too distracted to even care that he’s digging around in your messy fridge.

“I forgot about this,” he grabs the bag from the side table and dangles it in front of his face. “Your gift.”

You sit up against the arm rest and smile at him, “thank you, Seungmin.” Inside is a small yellow dog plush. “Oh, it’s you!” You squeeze him and adjust the hoodie he’s wearing before bringing him up to your face. “Was he yours?”

“Yeah, he was mine.”

“He smells like you.”

“Is that a good thing?” He sits down by your folded legs and sets a hand just above your knee.

He’s touchy today...almost as much as you. And for never being properly asked out (now you wonder what else he hasn’t experienced), he knows just what to do to make you squirm.

You sit up a little more, bumping his hand off of you by mistake. He pulls it back a little, so you reach out and take it in yours. “Yeah, it is.”

He squeezes your hand and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss on your lips. You kiss back, but your brain takes a second to catch up with your mouth. When it finally does, you kiss hard enough to force him back against the couch.

Seungmin is better in action than he is with words today.

He doesn’t struggle against you or ease up, but pushes on with just as much enthusiasm.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, though. You have a lot of options. Through the hair? No. Neck? Maybe, but you don’t want to be too rough at this angle, and he might not be into that. Face? It’s a good option, and his cheeks are soft and nice to touch. And it's not too much.

Before you can decide, he takes your other hand and pulls until you have no choice but to swing a leg over his lap. And then his hands are on either side of your thighs.

You pull back and look at him.

He stares back, catching his breath. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at answering your questions.”

“You don’t have to.” You let your hands wander over his chest and down his sides. He squirms just a little; probably ticklish. When your hands settle on his belt, you lean in to kiss him again. On his lips, over his cheek. “I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he looks down at your hands. “It was nice to be thought of like that. It felt good.”

“If I can see you again, that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?”

It really isn’t, but you decided on the walk back that anything with Seungmin would be okay. “If it’s what you can give me, yeah.”

Your needy, clingy heart feels like it’s crumbling, but you do your best to keep it from showing on your face.

“I can’t promise much, but I can try.”

You kiss him again, and without thinking it through properly; without thinking at all, really, you slide your fingers down and over the zipper of his shorts and feel the significant bulge that you somehow didn’t notice before.

Seungmin’s tiny oh and his hand wrapping around the offending wrist makes your stomach sink. His eyes are wide and fixed on you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you gently push yourself away from him and sit against the opposite side of the couch, hands covering your red face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s okay,” he giggles and adjusts himself, and you watch from behind one hand as he runs a palm between his thighs. “Please don’t be upset, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His voice softens as he speaks, and the last part is a barely audible whisper, “it was my fault.” But the grin on his face only sharpens. He’s looking down at his hands as they nervously fidget with the hem of his shorts.

“Was that uh, a first, too?” You regret asking it as soon as it leaves your mouth.

He doesn’t answer right away. You’re worried he feels embarrassed about it. And you feel weird for bringing it up. The urge to get closer to him is kept under control for now.

“It’s no big deal, Minnie…if it was.”

Using his nickname breaks him from his trance, and he looks at you, blinks, nods. “Yeah, it was.”

“Did you want that? I mean, when you pulled me on top of you.” Now you scoot a little closer. “You can give me boundaries.”

“I got caught up in the moment.” He starts, thinking and picking his words carefully. “But I did want to kiss you like that.”

“Got it,” closer still, until your knee is brushing against his thigh. “You can always stop me if I go overboard. Sometimes I can be too much.”

“Is that bad? Too much is sometimes nice.”

“I guess it depends…”

You lean forward until your forehead can lay on his shoulder. His cheek rests on your head. You stay that way until you feel yourself relaxing and drifting into a half-sleep.

“I think it’s time to rest.” You don’t move, but Seungmin lifts his head.

“That’s a good idea,” He grabs the pillow to his right and puts it on your side of the couch. “Do you want me to stay?”

You lay back on the couch and sigh. “Yeah, I do. If you want to.”

“I do…move over.”

[blinkaftermidnight]

Leatin Bangs Without (Then With) Feelings

Read on AO3.

This is a good time to remind you that I'm not altering what I wrote or doing any editing at all. I do reread them, and I am cringing at how often I used the word "sharply" here, and also at some of my old writing style that I've refined and/or eliminated over time. Same goes for some characterization decisions. But nonetheless, this was written very early 2022, and it's a lot of words to let go to waste. I left my notes at the very end to give an idea of where this may have gone.

Also I think this one takes the cake for worst placeholder title, but I have no shame anymore I think.

Every muscle, every bone, in Leah’s body aches. Shit, her whole fucking soul aches. Her head pounds. (And her mind won’t stop. It never does.) She knows the others keep glancing her way, don’t trust her not to do anything stupid. She sits at the edge of the woods, legs pulled to her chest, digging her fingernails into her knees to try to keep herself here. (In the moment.)

The sun has been down for at least an hour. Nora has been in the ground for at least five. Rachel’s unconscious, being tended to by Dot, Shelby, and Martha. (They’re on a rotation. Toni and Fatin get a pass because they stayed by Nora’s side as she died. And so did Leah, but Leah thinks she gets a pass because no one trusts her to watch after Rachel. She can barely watch after herself.) It’s been the longest day on the island. So far. Leah supposes she shouldn’t have any high hopes for whatever’s in store for them here on out. Two people have died. Leah almost drowned. Martha murdered a goat and hasn’t been the same since. Toni and Shelby are, like, a thing, but it’s been lowkey so far. (Considering they didn’t hold back after Nora died.) Rachel lost a hand. Nora is dead, died with Leah (and Fatin and Toni) at her side while Rachel screamed (until she lost consciousness) as Dot (and Shelby and Martha) tried to help her. Nothing is okay. Something is wrong with this place. And they’re all going to fucking die before they ever find out, probably.

“She’s going off the deep end over there,” Leah hears Dot say. (They aren’t that far away from her. It’s dead fucking silent out here. Voices fucking travel.)

“I’ll go check on her,” Fatin replies. “The rest of you can sleep.” Leah looks over at camp right as Fatin gets to her feet, brushes sand off her ass and the backs of her legs. Leah doesn’t give Fatin the satisfaction of watching her walk over. She stares out at the ocean instead, and even as Fatin drops herself to the ground beside Leah, Leah doesn’t look at her. “Hey,” Fatin says.

“Hey.”

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay,” Fatin tells her. “You obviously aren’t.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

Fatin makes a sound that’s almost a chuckle then rubs at her temples. “Come on,” Fatin says. She stands again, holds her hands out. “Let’s take a walk.”

“Why?” Leah mumbles.

“You’ve been sitting in the same spot for hours,” Fatin replies. “It’s not good for your back or your ass, probably. So come on. Come with me.”

“Where?” Leah asks. (But she’s already taking Fatin’s hands, letting Fatin pull her up.)

“To the water,” Fatin says casually. “I feel gross.”

Leah winces. (They don’t talk about it. They don’t talk about how just a few hours ago, they were in the ocean – but only a few feet into it, too afraid to go farther – splashing water onto themselves, trying to rid themselves of all the blood. But Leah’s pretty sure they’re both thinking about it.) Leah follows after Fatin even though her muscles and joints are stiff, even though her neck and her back and, yeah, her ass all kind of ache. (Everything hurts. Physically. Emotionally. Leah is drained.)

“Fatin,” Leah says, eyes widening as Fatin strips off her (blood soaked) jeans. “You shouldn’t –”

“Calm your tits. I know,” Fatin dismisses. “I’m just going up to my ankles. Besides, I should probably ditch these things anyway.” (And she does. Throws the jeans straight into the ocean.) “Come on,” Fatin encourages. “I mean, you don’t have to take your pants off, but I won’t mind it if you do.” Fatin grins, but it slides when Leah’s expression remains impassive. “Or you could just roll ‘em up,” Fatin adds. “Unless you don’t care about getting your pants wet. But I mean, you’re with me, so. Your pants are probably wet anyway.”

Fatin smirks, winks, and Leah caves, allows a small smile to flicker on her face as she rolls her eyes. “You’re unbelievable,” Leah says. (Her voice cracks, but to be fair, she’s done a good amount of screaming today, just like everyone else. And she’s only cried once, actually. Figures there’ll be more to come later, when she’s trying to sleep. If her mind will even shut off. Probably won’t.) Leah throws her shoes behind them, cuffs her jeans so she can take a few steps into the ocean without getting them wet.

“What?” Fatin questions. “You want me to be, like, all depressed all the time now?”

“You could at least act like you care about what happened to Rachel and – and Nora,” Leah replies.

“Okay, Leah, look at me and honestly tell me you think I don’t care about them,” Fatin says sharply. She snaps her fingers when Leah doesn’t lift her eyes from the ocean, and Leah forces herself to look Fatin in the eye. (Of course she cares. Leah was right there, with Fatin and Toni, trying to comfort Nora.)

“I know you care,” Leah concedes.

“Thank you,” Fatin says.

“I just don’t think I can laugh at sex jokes right now.”

“You don’t have to laugh,” Fatin says. “But I’m not going to stop making them.”

Leah nods wearily, bends down to scoop up some of the saltwater, rubs it against her face. She’d scrubbed the shit out of her hands earlier, desperate to wash away any remnants of blood. Did the same with her arms. Her neck. (Almost drowning didn’t make her afraid of the ocean. But what happened to Rachel and Nora? Yeah, Leah’s never going out there again.)

“You’re going dark on me,” Fatin says, so quietly that Leah almost thinks she imagined it. “I know you won’t look me in the eye for longer than, like, two seconds, but I can still see it.”

Leah straightens her back out, flicks saltwater off her hands as Fatin shifts into her space. Leah can feel Fatin’s eyes on her even as she stares out at the endless fucking water. Leah’s teeth sink into her lower lip, and she has to remind herself not to bite down too hard, not to draw blood. Her hands curl into fists, because Leah can’t put up with them trembling, can’t put up with the idea of Fatin noticing the way her body shakes.

“Tell me how to help you,” Fatin murmurs. (She lingers in Leah’s space but doesn’t touch her. Her eyes never once leave Leah’s face, even if Leah refuses to look at her.)

“You can’t.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” Fatin amends.

“God, I’m just so tired, Fatin,” Leah whispers. “I’m so fucking exhausted. I just want to be done. I want this to be over.”

“Hey,” Fatin says sharply. She takes Leah’s face in her hands, (gently) forces her to stop staring at the water, gets Leah to meet her gaze instead. “It’ll be okay. We will be okay,” Fatin insists. (Her thumbs stroke against Leah’s jaw, softly. Too softly.)

“I can’t – just, everything fucking hurts,” Leah says. “Like, I mean, all my muscles ache or whatever and have for days, but this – Nora – and Rachel – I can’t handle the – the fucking pain. I don’t know how to –” Leah stops, inhales sharply, but Fatin nods, lips pressing together. (Like maybe she gets exactly what Leah’s trying to say. Like maybe Fatin can read it straight out of Leah’s eyes, no words necessary.) “She died,” Leah says, and her voice breaks, lip quivers. “Right in front of us, Fatin. We watched her – how are you supposed to, like, fucking process that? How do you not just – feel it all, like, building up in your chest with no way out?”

Leah shoves her fist against the center of Fatin’s chest, but she doesn’t have the energy, just ends up pressing her palm flat against Fatin’s chest instead, fingers splaying out against Fatin’s bare skin. (Fatin’s shirt – the floral patterned one that Leah actually thinks is really cute, with the low cut neckline – was somehow spared from being covered in blood. Fatin’s jeans took the brunt of that. So Fatin’s still wearing the same shirt from earlier, over the same shimmery gold bra. So Leah’s hand presses right against warm, bare skin, but also against the soft material of Fatin’s shirt, just a little.)

“You’ll work through it,” Fatin tells her. (Her hands haven’t left Leah’s face. She won’t let Leah look away.)

“How?”

“I’ll help you,” Fatin says.

“You can’t.”

“I’ll try.”

Leah inhales sharply. Her eyes hone in on something just below Fatin’s lower lip. Maybe it’s a speck of sand. Or maybe it’s a fleck of blood. Leah isn’t sure, and it’s hard to tell in the dark, but either way, Leah lifts her hand from Fatin’s chest, drags the pad of her thumb through the speck. (Not sand. Probably blood.) Leah doesn’t get it in one sweep, brings her thumb back to try again, succeeds. (Leah only just notices her fingers are resting against Fatin’s cheek when her thumb stalls against the center of Fatin’s lips, and Fatin still refuses to look away. Except now, so does Leah.)

Leah doesn’t remember how their faces got so close together, how their noses are almost touching. Fatin’s hands fall from Leah’s face, slip down to her neck as Leah shifts her thumb out of the way. Leah isn’t sure if she leans in first or if Fatin commits to it first, but Fatin doesn’t seem surprised to be kissing her. (Not at all.) Leah pushes her hand from Fatin’s face to the back of Fatin’s neck (wishes that Fatin would let her fucking hair down once in a while), catches Fatin’s lower lip between her teeth. (Because she’s not going to let Fatin get away with trying to kiss her, like, all soft and shit. Leah may be five seconds away from mentally snapping at any given moment, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be treated like she’s fragile. And Leah knows Fatin’s only trying to take this slowly because she thinks Leah’s breakable.)

At least Fatin takes the hint. She picks up the pace, drops her hands to Leah’s hips and pulls her closer. Fatin’s tongue glides past Leah’s lips as Leah’s fingers knot into Fatin’s hair, beneath her bun (and Fatin’s fingers dig into Leah’s hips now). Leah moans, disregarding the fact that they’re not nearly far enough away from camp (but no one’s said anything yet, so they’re probably all asleep), lets her other hand slide from Fatin’s shoulder toward her chest, but Fatin releases Leah’s hip, catches Leah’s hand in her own, shifts back.

“Leah,” Fatin warns. (Breathlessly. Fatin is fucking breathless after, like, ten seconds of kissing Leah.)

“What?” Leah says. She looks Fatin in the eye (and she still looks fucking worried, but also kind of confused, but there’s an undeniable hunger buried beneath the surface). “Don’t you think twenty three days without an orgasm is enough?” Leah asks.

“So you think that I shouldn’t be making sex jokes after someone dies, but somehow it’s okay for us to fuck?” Fatin questions (still sounds breathless).

“Shut up.”

Fatin grabs Leah by the bicep, pushes her in the direction of the woods. (They slip past camp easily. Leah’s suspicions were right. Everyone’s asleep.) They can’t go far. Can’t risk getting lost in the dark. They can still see the beach from their spot, and Leah knows before Fatin ever says, “We’re gonna have to be quiet,” that yeah, they can’t fucking risk waking anyone up. Fatin’s fingers tug at Leah’s belt before they’ve even come to a stop somewhere, and somehow she manages to get it undone quickly. As Fatin’s fingers pop the button of Leah’s jeans, drag the zipper down, Leah grabs her by the shoulders and turns Fatin until her back hits the tree behind her.

Before Fatin can ask, Leah says, “You’re getting your orgasm in first, so you can really focus when it comes to mine, yeah?”

Fatin smirks. (As if she’s gonna complain about that.) “Fine,” Fatin agrees. “But it’s gonna take more than that one kiss to get me going.”

“Please,” Leah scoffs. “As if you aren’t so tightly-wound after twenty three days –”

“Okay, fine, shut up,” Fatin cuts in.

“I bet just the promise of an orgasm is making you wet.”

“Shut up. And still. Be polite and take something off for me.”

Fatin has already hiked Leah’s tank top up halfway, hasn’t even given Leah a chance to shed the shirt she has over it. (And Leah all but rips the no longer white button down off of her, drops it to the dirt. It’s seen better days anyway.) Leah lifts her arms, lets Fatin pull her tank top off of her. (Actually pays attention to where it drops, because she’s gonna need that later.) She recaptures Fatin’s lips as Fatin’s hands slip around Leah’s back, and Fatin unclasps Leah’s bra in one fucking move. (Like shit, Leah would take the time to be impressed if she wasn’t so fucking turned on.)

“Shit, hurry up,” Fatin hisses against Leah’s mouth. “I think I’ve waited long enough for this, Rilke.” Leah rolls her eyes even though she knows Fatin can’t see it, kisses her way down Fatin’s jaw to her neck, hands braced against Fatin’s hips, resisting Fatin’s efforts to move them. As Leah’s teeth scrape against Fatin’s neck, Fatin inhales sharply then breathes out, “Don’t you fucking dare try to leave any marks on me.”

Leah hums in acknowledgement, backs off of Fatin’s neck, but that’s mostly because Fatin grabs her by the chin, pulls Leah back in to kiss her. (That sneaky bitch. The kiss distracts Leah just enough to get her to ease up on Fatin’s hip, gives Fatin just enough time to guide Leah’s hand into her panties before Leah registers what’s happening.) Fatin moans too loudly (and fuck, Leah barely contains her own; Fatin’s fucking soaked), and Leah pauses to say, “Be quiet.”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

“Don’t wake everyone else up.”

Fatin nods, makes a blind grab at Leah’s sides to have some kind of leverage in the moments before Leah pushes two fingers into her. (And the cry Fatin lets out surely just woke their entire fucking camp; Leah braces herself given that there’s, like, a zero percent chance they won’t be discovered, but no one shows up.)

“Shut up,” Leah snaps, but no one comes looking. And Leah’s right. It doesn’t take long at all before Fatin’s clenching around her fingers, teeth sinking into Leah’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to be quiet. Leah lets Fatin ride through it, waits until Fatin grabs her wrist and pulls her hand out of her panties herself, exhaling against Leah’s shoulder. (Leah’s pretty sure she’s the only thing keeping Fatin on her feet right now.)

“Shit, okay,” Fatin breathes, bracing her hands against Leah’s shoulders. “Give me a second. That was my first orgasm in –”

“At least twenty three days. We all know.”

Fatin laughs breathlessly, lets her head fall back against the tree behind her. “Well, don’t just stand there,” Fatin says. “Get your fucking pants off.” Leah bites down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something snarky, chooses to oblige instead. (She has no idea what Fatin has planned, and she wants to find out sooner rather than later.) Fatin recovers quickly enough, says, “Alright, switch with me. Unless you wanna do it on the ground. I don’t really give a fuck.”

(Leah runs through those two options real quickly. Maybe she’ll get dirt in her ass if they’re on the ground, but she’ll have to keep herself on her feet if they go against the tree. And she’s kind of tired from holding Fatin up. She comes up with a solution, though, gets the button down that she’s never gonna wear again under her ass, so at least there’s that.)

Fatin’s face hovers over Leah’s, and she seems unbothered by the way Leah’s hips press up into hers. “So do I have to even bother with foreplay?” Fatin questions (and she’s got this infuriating smirk on her face). “Because I kinda feel like I should be able to just go for it, right?”

(And if Leah wasn’t about to get in her first orgasm– well, her first orgasm from someone other than herself – in the last six months or so, that’s a fight she’d totally pick.) Leah grabs Fatin by the shoulders, catches the grin on Fatin’s face in the moments before Leah pushes her down and says, “You better make fucking you worth my while.”

“Oh, baby,” Fatin hums, pressing her lips to the center of Leah’s chest. “I guarantee it’ll be worth your while.”

Leah stops Fatin, just long enough to pull the hair tie from Fatin’s hair (and she waits for Fatin to make a comment about how it’d be easier if Leah just left it up, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t complain as Leah knots her fingers in her hair). And Leah really can’t help but to wonder if Fatin’s a fast learner or if she just never bothered to mention that she fucks women. Leah’s staring up at, like, actual stars, but Fatin kinda makes her see metaphorical stars. (Not that Leah would ever admit that to her; it probably doesn’t matter though. She knows Fatin’s looking up at her as she pushes herself against Fatin’s tongue, as she bites down on her own arm to silence herself.)

And you know, there’s nothing quite like coming on someone’s face to remind you that you’re still alive.

*

Leah’s tank top lands on her chest, and she lets out a grunt as she snaps back into full consciousness. “Sorry,” Fatin says. “But I don’t sleep with the people I fuck, so get your clothes on. We gotta head back before the others notice we’re gone.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t hoping that you would stick around to sleep with me,” Leah retorts. “I had a bra, too.”

It hits her in the chest, and Fatin smiles as she ties her hair back up. “I was hoping you’d let me keep it,” Fatin quips. “You know. As a souvenir.”

“Fuck you.”

“Already did,” Fatin says. She shamelessly watches Leah get her clothes back on, seems to hesitate. “Seriously though,” Fatin says. “Are you alright?”

Leah rolls her eyes. “No, but I’m better than I was, like, two hours ago.”

“Yeah, I could tell. That doesn’t mean –”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Leah cuts in. She secures her belt around her waist. “I’m not gonna run into the ocean, so there’s no reason for you to worry about my sanity right now.”

“Well, I did just fuck you,” Fatin replies. “And you wanted me to, so. Maybe I should be worrying about your sanity.”

“Go back to camp, Fatin,” Leah insists. “I’ll be right behind you.”

After Fatin walks off, Leah accidentally snaps herself with her bra strap as she’s adjusting it, and she hisses when she realizes it hurts. Maybe she’s sunburned worse than she thought. It isn’t until Leah steps on the beach, while she’s prodding at her shoulder, that it dawns on her that she isn’t sunburned. She has to wait until she’s back at camp, near the fire, to see it for herself. (And Fatin has already thrown herself down next to Dot.) Leah stares in disbelief at the mark on her shoulder then leans over and slaps Fatin on the back of the thigh. (Fatin yelps, thankfully not loud enough to disturb anyone.)

“Dude, what the fuck?” Leah exclaims.

Fatin shushes her, glaring. “What?” Fatin says. “Don’t tell me you’re having, like, buyer’s remorse.”

“Look at my shoulder.”

Confusion flickers on Fatin’s face, and she leans closer to squint at Leah’s shoulder. “Oh, shit,” Fatin laughs. (If she didn’t clamp a hand over her own mouth to stifle the sound, Leah would’ve done it herself.) Fatin cuts her laughter off abruptly, lets her hand fall as her eyes widen at the, like, super pissed off look on Leah’s face.

“You really made a whole thing about me not leaving a mark on you and turned around and did this shit?” Leah snaps.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Fatin says. Fatin glances around, double checks that everyone else is still out. “I was trying to stay quiet, and I didn’t think I was biting that hard,” Fatin says defensively.

“Get me a new shirt,” Leah tells her. “Something to cover this.”

“Relax,” Fatin dismisses. She drags her suitcase over, digs through it until she comes up with a shirt for Leah to wear over her tank top. “Here,” Fatin says, tossing the purple camo jacket that Martha’s made a habit of wearing into Leah’s lap. Leah bites down her lip, shoves her arms into the jacket then fixes the collar. Fatin lies back in the sand behind Dot. Leah shifts herself farther away from Fatin, closer toward Martha now that Martha isn’t sleeping next to Toni. (Leah doesn’t think anyone has the details on the Toni-and-Shelby situation. Not even Martha. But Toni and Shelby have been glued to each other since Nora died, are sleeping with their limbs tangled together.)

Leah can’t sleep. (That’s not exactly surprising.) She’s still physically – and mentally – exhausted, but her thoughts demand her attention. (And she has plenty to think about.) Even though her muscles ache, even though she’s emotionally drained, Leah stays awake. She may have spent the hours in the wake of Nora’s death analyzing what happened, trying to reconcile how Nora trapped her in a pit then fucking died, trying to figure out how they’re going to keep Rachel alive. And Leah can still analyze those things, over and over, except now she can also analyze what the fuck is going on between her and Fatin.

And the answer to that question is: nothing. They fucked. Leah knows for a fact Fatin doesn’t think anything of it. (And neither does Leah, honestly. Maybe fucking someone who’s her closest thing to a friend out in this hellhole just hours after the death of another one of their own is fucked up, but it’s kind of what Leah needed to stop herself from totally losing it. And frankly, it worked.) No, Leah’s not worried about some misunderstanding over feelings between her and Fatin.

She’s worried about Fatin not keeping her mouth shut. Leah can hear Dot’s mouth breathing from all the way over here. Leah has no idea how long it’ll take before Fatin tells Dot that they went off and fucked in the woods, and once Dot knows, everyone else might as well know, too. Nothing stays secret around here for very long. Not even Shelby and Toni kept their shit secret that long. (Whatever developed between them happened over the course of just twenty three days. But maybe Nora dying put some shit into perspective.) But Leah doesn’t need her business becoming the talk of the camp, because whatever feelings Toni and Shelby might be having for each other can’t outshine the fact that Fatin finally got some, and she got some from Leah, and Leah knows Fatin will want to flaunt that and rub it into Toni’s face.

They should’ve talked about that before they left the woods. And now it’s too late, because Fatin’s definitely asleep. So Leah’s probably going to wake up to a whole ass shit show, less than twenty four hours after Nora died and Rachel lost a hand. (At least Rachel probably won’t be conscious for that. Dot gave her the strong shit. Leah and Rachel may not be on amazing terms, but Leah knows she’ll take a ton of shit from Rachel for fucking Fatin. Not just Rachel. Leah will probably take shit from everyone. Even if it’s no one’s business who Leah fucks or doesn’t fuck.)

Once Leah’s mind works its way through the whole Fatin’s totally going to wake up and tell everyone we fucked, her mind shifts to the fact that she really just fucked someone without, like, feeling anything. (Well, emotionally. Leah sure as hell felt a lot while they were fucking, but it wasn’t, like, love or some shit. She only even likes Fatin half the time, tolerates her the other half. And okay, even emotionally she felt something. Like serious irritation.) Obviously the last person she fucked was him (and sometimes just thinking of his name leaves a bad taste in Leah’s mouth), though now she’s starting to wonder if that can even count as having sex. (That son of a bitch really only did care about himself, huh?) Leah always thought love would equal good sex, but apparently good sex comes after getting stranded on an island for three weeks with a girl you barely tolerated for the first week and only sort of like as a person even now.

(Fatin doesn’t know the name of Leah’s parents. The name of her dog. The name of her best friend. Fatin doesn’t know all the dirty details of what went down between Leah and her ex-whatever-he-was. Fatin doesn’t know the extent of the emotional devastation Leah experienced when he left her to pick up the pieces of what used to be her life. Shit, Fatin probably couldn’t name Leah’s favorite color. Fatin doesn’t know shit about Leah – and Leah really doesn’t know shit about Fatin – but she knows what Leah tastes like. Knows what she looks like when Leah comes. And Fatin knows somehow when shit gets dark for Leah, when she can’t pull herself out of her own mind. Leah isn’t sure how that information settles with her.)

Oh God. The others are gonna judge Leah so hard.

Sometime shortly after that thought, Leah’s body shuts down. She only knows because she’s woken up sometime after sunrise by Toni kicking her foot until Leah grunts, squints against the sunlight.

“Hey. Get up,” Toni says. “You’ve way overslept, and you’re on water duty, so get moving.”

“Leah!” Dot calls. Leah’s eyes pop back open. Dot crouches down next to her, and Leah expects to see a smug-ass look on Dot’s face, but she looks dead serious. “We needed to rearrange the schedule, obviously,” Dot informs. “Water’s still a two person job, but we need someone to look after Rachel, and we’re down a woman, so. We’re all gonna have to pick up some slack.”

Leah’s eyebrows pull together. “Yeah, right,” she agrees. She waits for Dot to say something about how Leah stooped so low as to fuck Fatin, but Dot just stands and walks off, saying she’s got the first Rachel duty. Leah gets to her feet, brushing sand off the purple camo jacket and off her jeans. (Her shoulder is sore, and she probably slept wrong, because her neck feels extra fucked up this morning.) Leah checks out the board, suppresses a groan when she sees she’s on water duty with Fatin. (Rachel duty goes hand in hand with fire duty now. Martha’s on wood gathering and cleaning up. Toni and Shelby are on food. Figures.) Leah could probably get Martha to swap with her, but as far as everyone knows, Leah and Fatin are, like, sorta friends, so it’d be suspicious if Leah asked. And holy shit, Leah realizes Fatin hasn’t said a damn word to anyone.

No one knows they fucked, except her and Fatin. Everyone’s acting way too goddamn normal for Leah to draw any other conclusion. Even Dot didn’t betray that she knows anything, and Dot wouldn’t have been able to resist giving Leah at least some shit for providing Fatin with her first orgasm in twenty three days. Toni for sure would’ve said something. But nope. Everyone goes about like nothing’s unusual – except the mood is still extra somber because of, well, yeah.

Hands land on each of Leah’s shoulders, and Leah hisses in both surprise and pain. Leah twists her neck back (big mistake) to see that it’s Fatin grabbing onto her, and Fatin’s got this big-ass grin on her face. (And her big-ass hoops in her ears.) “Hey-oh,” Fatin greets, but as Leah winces as something in her neck tweaks, Fatin’s grin slides. “You okay?” Fatin asks, squeezing Leah’s shoulder. (Over that fucking bite mark she’d left Leah with, and Leah winces again.)

“I fucked my neck up in my sleep or something,” Leah mutters. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Oh, no,” Fatin scoffs. “Honey. I am amazing at massages. Sit your ass down. I’ll fix that problem right up for you.”

(Leah screams on the inside, because everyone else is too close for her to give any kind of abnormal reaction to Fatin’s antics. And besides, her neck really is fucking her up.)

“Don’t do anything weird,” Leah warns.

Fatin rolls her eyes, but Toni’s the one that calls, “When is Fatin not doing something weird?”

“You mind your own business, Shalifoe,” Fatin replies. She pushes on Leah’s shoulders, ignores the way Leah grimaces, and Leah resigns herself to taking a seat on the sand as Fatin kneels behind her, prodding around at her neck. (Her fingers, thankfully, stay clear of the bruised patch on Leah’s shoulder.)

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let Fatin rub you,” Toni says.

(Leah flinches, bracing herself for the inevitable oh, we’ve done way more than just rub each other comment from Fatin.)

“Oh, fuck you,” Fatin laughs. “Leah would be lucky to have me rub her.”

“Careful, Leah,” Toni warns. “Don’t want to catch HPV or something.”

“Please. I’m responsible. I get tested after every partner,” Fatin says. “I know I’m clean.” Fatin’s thumb digs right into the spot that hurts the most, and Leah inhales sharply, exhaling as she realizes what Fatin’s doing is actually helping. She could do without Fatin leaning into her, though, to whisper right next to her ear, “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” Leah grumbles.

Fatin pulls back, shrugs. “Told you I knew what I was doing.”

“You should see if you can fix my back,” Toni challenges. “I think Shelby did something to fuck it up when we – ow! Don’t pinch me.”

Fatin laughs, and Leah lets her eyes close as Fatin’s fingers continue to rub into her neck. Leah actually can feel some of the tension in her muscles melting away.

“Seriously, though,” Toni says. “This might be Fatin’s way of trying to convince you to sleep with her.”

(Yeah, Leah didn’t really need much convincing, did she? She kinda sorta almost made the first move.)

“Please,” Fatin snorts. “I mean, if Leah wants to repay me for fixing her neck by giving me an orgasm, I won’t complain. It’s been twenty four days. I’m desperate enough.”

Toni snickers. “Yeah, we all know you’re desperate.”

Leah’s eyes flick over to where Dot’s seated beside Rachel (even though Rachel hasn’t been conscious in at least sixteen hours). Dot jabs at the fire, looks at Rachel, jabs at the fire, looks over at Fatin, but Dot’s expression is hard to read. Fatin’s hands tighten on Leah’s shoulders, and she leans in again, resting her chin against the back of her hand, right next to Leah’s face.

“Better?” Fatin questions. “Or do I need to keep going?”

“I think I’m good, thanks.”

Fatin smirks. “Good.” With the hand she isn’t leaning on, she pats Leah on the side of the face then pulls back, letting her other hand slide with her. “We should get going,” Fatin says. “Water duty is always a pain in the ass.” She holds her hands out to Leah, wiggles her fingers as she waits. (And Leah just stares. She really shouldn’t. She shouldn’t be staring at Fatin’s fingers.) Leah slaps her hands into Fatin’s, lets Fatin haul her up. Fatin grabs the bag filled with their empty water containers, hands it off to Leah, then puts her hand against the top of Dot’s head, waits for Dot to look up. “And I’ll be back for you later, Dorothy,” Fatin says, winking.

“Jesus. What’s got you in such a good mood today?” Dot mutters. “Did you somehow forget what happened yesterday?”

Fatin’s smile slides. “No. Of course not. It’s kind of hard to forget when Rachel is right here, buried beneath a mountain of my clothes, with the end of her arm wrapped in most of the bandages we’ve got because she doesn’t have a hand. I didn’t forget.”

“Then what’re you so fucking happy about?” Dot asks. (She sounds more curious than harsh.)

Fatin shrugs. “We can’t all fall into a depression as deep as Leah’s. No offense. Someone’s gotta make sure shit keeps running, right? And that’s always you, so I figured maybe I’d pull my weight today.”

“No, that’s not what this is. You’re lying to me,” Dot says.

“Am not.”

“Oh my God,” Dot says, catching Fatin’s wrist before she can walk away. “You had an orgasm.”

“Wait, what?” Toni says, perking up at the word orgasm. “How?” Toni demands. “I thought you couldn’t do it with your hands or whatever.”

“What can I say?” Fatin says. (Leah inhales deeply, holds it, because here it comes. The moment everyone else finds out they fucked overnight in the woods, like, hours after Nora died as if that’s not sort of fucked up.) “I didn’t want to admit it, but my toothbrush finally saw some action,” Fatin says.

As Toni busts out laughing, falling into Shelby, Dot’s eyes narrow. “I killed your toothbrush,” she reminds. “So you’re fucking lying.”

Fatin smirks. “I took your advice and used it manually, so I accept your apology for calling me a liar,” she says. She pries Dot’s hand off her wrist, pats Dot on the shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, Dorothy. Leah! Come on. It’s a long fucking hike, and I’m already tired.”

*

Fatin leads the way, following the markers on the trail. It’s shaping up to be a blistering kind of day. Leah ties her hair back before long, sheds the purple camo jacket (and tries not to think about how she’ll have to put it back on, as suspicious as that’ll be, if she wants to cover the very obviously not-innocent bruising on her shoulder). Leah finally gets a good look at it in full daylight, grimacing. Fatin didn’t break the skin anywhere, but it’s a fairly decent bruise nonetheless. And yeah, it could’ve only been left behind by a set of teeth. No debating about that. If anyone sees this, it’s over.

Up ahead, Fatin pulls the floral patterned shirt over her head, ties it around her waist. (She’s wearing shorts today, since she threw her blood soaked jeans to the ocean last night.) Fatin pauses as she notices the jacket flung over Leah’s shoulder and waits until Leah comes to a stop right in front of her.

“What?” Leah says.

“Let me see that.”

Fatin grabs Leah by the arm, turns her to get a better look at the mark she left. “Shit,” Fatin laughs. “I really didn’t mean to do that, honey.” Fatin grazes her fingertips against the bruising, watches the way Leah cringes. “Does it hurt?”

“What do you think?” Leah retorts. “Yeah, it fucking hurts.”

Fatin shrugs, pulls her hand away. She doesn’t keep walking, though. Doesn’t turn around. She pokes her tongue between her lips, holds it there for a few moments as she smiles at Leah, as her eyes study Leah's expression. (And Leah fights so hard to keep her expression neutral if not slightly pissed off, but it’s so hard when she’s looking at Fatin’s lips, at her tongue. Like, Leah can’t not see Fatin’s face between her legs, will probably see that every time she looks at Fatin until they get off this island. And maybe Fatin looks so fucking smug because somehow she knows this. God, it probably hasn’t even been twelve hours since they –)

“Are you gonna say something?” Leah prompts. “Or are you just going to stare at me?”

“I mean, you have really gorgeous eyes, so I wouldn’t mind continuing to stare at you,” Fatin replies easily.

“Fuck off.”

Fatin shrugs, as fucking nonchalant as ever, and turns to keep heading for the waterfall. Leah follows her, doesn’t really have any other options. She keeps her eyes on the center of Fatin’s (mostly bare) back, at the straps of Fatin’s gold bra. (She’s not going to stare at Fatin’s ass. She’s not going to stare at Fatin’s legs, either. Probably shouldn’t even stare at her back.)

“You didn’t tell Dot,” Leah says.

Fatin stops walking again, forcing Leah to stop, too. Fatin turns back again, eyebrows raising. “Hmm?” she says. “I didn’t tell her what?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Leah replies. (She doesn’t miss the way Fatin’s eyes start at her face, drag down to her chest, flick back up. And Fatin gets that infuriating smug look on her face, like she knows what Leah looks like naked, because she does. Leah never should’ve given Fatin permission to take her shirt off, at least.) “You didn’t tell Dot we fucked.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Fatin corrects. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why would I? That’s none of their business.”

“You’ve made your lack of orgasms everyone’s business.”

“Yeah, because it’s a goddamn tragedy,” Fatin says. “And if I turned around and blabbed about my orgasm to everyone, I wouldn’t get any more.”

Leah’s eyebrows shoot upward. “You’re assuming there’ll be more?”

“Can you blame me? Honey, I know I gave you the best orgasm of your life. Of course you’d come back for more.”

“No,” Leah blurts.

“No? Come on, you can’t even try to lie about that –”

“No, I mean, it was a one-time thing,” Leah says. “Some, like, really bad shit happened yesterday, and I was like –”

Leah pauses, unsure of how to put it, but Fatin chimes in with, “Going dark?”

“Yeah. Whatever. Anyway, totally a one-time thing.”

“So, what?” Fatin questions. “Are you saying you were just using me to make yourself feel better?”

Leah hesitates, can’t get a good read on the look on Fatin’s face until Fatin starts laughing. “I mean,” Leah says, “weren’t you doing the same exact thing?”

“Obviously!” Fatin says. She reaches out and hits her hand against Leah’s shoulder, exclaims, “Sorry!” when she realizes it’s the one she (accidentally) marked. “Jesus, Leah,” Fatin says. “Loosen up. It’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s not a big deal, but you haven’t told anyone.”

Fatin rolls her eyes. “We went over this. If I tell them, you’ll get pissed, and I want more orgasms. So you can say this was a one-time thing, but we’ll see about that.” Fatin winks at her but pauses to gauge Leah’s reaction again. “You’ll have to step it up, though,” Fatin warns. “I was, like, super ready to go because of the whole lack of recent orgasms thing, but it’s only gonna get harder to please me as we –”

“What don’t you understand about one-time thing?” Leah asks. “One. Time.”

Fatin knocks her hand against Leah’s stomach this time, choosing to avoid her shoulder. “Leah. Leah. If our camp hadn’t been so close, I would’ve made you scream. You’re gonna come back for more, and I won’t hold it against you when you do.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the idea, baby.”

(And Leah seethes, but she has no comeback ready. Fatin’s lips twist into a smile, and Leah’s mind so graciously reminds her that she’s kissed Fatin, that the last time she kissed Fatin was after she came on Fatin’s face. Except no, technically Fatin kissed her, and what was Leah going to do? Turn her down? That’d just be fucking rude. And in the moment, while Leah was still struggling to catch her breath while Fatin decided to push her tongue into Leah’s mouth, Leah assumed it was some kind of fucking power move on Fatin’s part. And maybe it was. Like a you just came on my face and here’s the proof kind of thing. But Fatin didn’t have to make out with her afterwards. She could’ve easily just pulled away. Definitely a fucking power move.)

“I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted,” Leah finally says. “You know. All three minutes of it. Since it won’t be happening again.”

“I went twenty three days without an orgasm! Of course it was gonna happen fast! Jesus.”

And for whatever reason, that has them both cracking up. They start walking again, but this time, side-by-side. “Seriously, Fatin, I don’t even think I really did anything,” Leah teases.

“Twenty three days, Leah! That’s, like, a fucking record!” Fatin shoves at Leah’s arm as Leah snickers, and Fatin grins at her. “Do not shame me for coming fast.”

“Oh, no shame,” Leah replies. “I made Fatin Jadmani come in under three minutes. So that’s some kind of a record for me, huh?” Leah points at her shoulder. “Sadly, I paid for it, but still.” When Fatin just rolls her eyes, Leah says, “Wait. Oh my God. No one’s ever made you come faster than that.”

“I told you,” Fatin says. “Special circumstances. It barely counts.”

“No, don’t even. It fucking counts.”

They reach the waterfall, and Fatin grabs the bag off Leah’s shoulder, a faint smile still on Fatin’s face. “What do you want me to say?” Fatin asks. “Thank you?”

“Might be nice. I kinda did you a massive favor.”

“You mean that I did you a massive favor,” Fatin points out. “I let you come on my face. That’s not a privilege that everyone gets, you know.”

Leah rolls her eyes. “God, I just feel so fucking special now,” she says sarcastically. “I came on the Fatin Jadmani’s face, and she immediately let me know it by shoving her tongue into my mouth.”

Fatin smirks. “Don’t even. I know you liked that.” (Leah can’t fight off her fucking smile.) “Yeah, exactly,” Fatin says. She heads to the water to start filling their containers. They work in silence, which is fine with Leah. (It’s so hard not to stare at Fatin’s hands. So hard, especially as she passes the full containers of water back to Leah, as their fingers brush together.) As Leah slings the full bag of water over her (good) shoulder, Fatin stops to study her.

“What?” Leah says.

Fatin hums. “You look good.”

“I’m sorry?”

Fatin waves her hand dismissively. “Like, it doesn’t look like shit’s getting dark for you. Right?”

Leah blinks, hesitates. “I’m fine,” she says.

“It was the orgasm.”

Leah sighs. “I mean, that was the point of us fucking, wasn’t it? You’re, like, addicted to orgasms and went a record-breaking twenty three days without one. And I…”

“Needed to be pulled out of your own mind,” Fatin finishes for her. She flashes Leah a smile. (A real one. Not that smug kind of shit she was giving Leah earlier.) “I get it,” Fatin says, shrugging. (She’s still smiling.) “I’m glad I found a way to actually help you.”

And with that, Fatin leads the way back.

*

They hear her long before they can see the beach. Leah’s eyes widen, and she hands the bag of water off to Fatin. (Almost doesn’t remember to fight her way back into the purple camo jacket, is still pulling it on as she crashes onto the beach with Fatin on her heels.)

Rachel’s awake.

Dot’s kneeling on one side of her, Shelby on the other. Dot’s struggling to hold Rachel down by the shoulders, but Rachel has a surprising amount of strength considering she lost a hand yesterday. (Cauterizing that wound was horrific, but they should all just be grateful it was a complete amputation rather than a partial one that they would’ve had to handle.) Rachel’s screaming drowns out whatever Dot and Shelby try to say to her. Rachel’s halfway to sitting fully upright, even with Dot and Shelby attempting to force her down.

Leah skids to a stop, almost falling to the sand beside Shelby. “What’s happening?” Leah asks breathlessly.

“She’s awake, that’s what’s happening!” Dot shouts.

“Well, she’s in pain! Give her something,” Leah insists.

“She’s on so many drugs, Leah,” Dot replies. “I don’t know how she’s feeling anything.”

Rachel’s hand shoots out, grasps a fistful of the front of Leah’s jacket, yanks her forward. Leah’s eyes widen, and Shelby grabs onto Rachel’s wrist, tries to pry her hand off of Leah as Rachel hisses, “How could you? How could you let her die instead of me?”

“Rachel, we –”

“I don’t want to hear it! You made the wrong choice!”

“Rachel,” Shelby says. (She’s still trying to break Rachel’s grasp on Leah.) “Rachel, let her go,” Shelby tells her. “This isn’t Leah’s fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. Please.”

“You didn’t get to her fast enough!” Rachel yells, tugging at the jacket. (Leah flinches.) “You didn’t even try!”

“Hey!” Toni shouts, emerging from around the bend. She runs over, slides down on the other side of Shelby. It doesn’t take Toni long to break Rachel’s grasp on the jacket. “Hey,” Toni says, softer this time, holding onto Rachel’s hand. “Don’t take this out on Leah, man,” Toni says. “Lay back down, okay? You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Rachel breathes heavily, eyes flicking between Leah, Shelby, and Toni. (Leah’s eyes lock with Dot’s before Dot looks off to the side, to where Fatin’s preparing to boil the water, as if nothing’s happening.) Rachel drops back down, and Dot turns her attention to bandaging the wound around Rachel’s arm. Toni helps Shelby to her feet, leads her away while watching Rachel warily. (But Rachel’s eyes close.) Leah doesn’t move.

“You should go,” Dot says.

“I can help.”

“You shouldn’t,” Dot replies.

“You’re gonna blame me for what happened?” Leah accuses. “I ran into the ocean while there was a fucking shark out there to pull them in, and – I told you what I saw Nora doing, and I still went out there. Her injuries were too –”

“Leah, I know,” Dot cuts in. “You did everything you could. But this is about what’s best for Rachel, and it’s probably best that you just stay away.”

Leah gets to her feet, shaking her head. (She got to them first. She hauled both Rachel and Nora half the way back to shore before Dot, Fatin, and Toni got to them. She tried to stop the bleeding until the very end, even though it was futile, even though there was too much, even though Toni and Fatin had already given up. Leah did everything she possibly could’ve, even after Nora trapped her in a pit and spoke to a camera in a tree. Nora died in spite of Leah’s efforts to keep her alive.)

“Just walk it off,” Martha advises, causing Leah to jump. Martha shakes her head. “She isn’t thinking right. She’s all drugged up, and she’s experiencing a kind of pain none of us can understand. It’s not your fault.”

“Thanks, Martha,” Leah mutters.

Martha presses her lips together, nods. “I know you tried,” she says. “For what it’s worth.”

Leah tries to take Martha’s words to heart. She knows Rachel just needs someone to blame for a situation none of them could control. (But it still nags at her. All day. Rachel blames her. Leah’s the only reason Rachel and Nora made it back to shore at all, but Rachel blames her for Nora’s death anyway. And Leah knows that Rachel doesn’t really know what went down once they reached shore. Leah knows Rachel was unconscious for most of what happened, doesn’t know how hard they tried to save her, doesn’t know the breakdowns they all collectively went through once Rachel’s injury was tended to. But Rachel still blames her.)

Rachel stays conscious long enough for Dot to get her to drink some water (and then she passes out for the rest of the day again). Leah spends most of the rest of the day sitting beside the fire, picking at her eyebrow. She goes over it. (Over and over.) Running straight into the ocean toward a shark. It disappeared, sure, but still, it was out there. Somehow managing to haul both Rachel and Nora back toward shore while they both bled into the water, Rachel from her arm and Nora from fucking everywhere. And Leah could only think of the shark coming back to finish them off as she inhaled (bloody) water with each gasping breath, choking but still attempting to reach land. (Toni reached them first, dragged Nora in as Dot went for Rachel. And Fatin grabbed onto Leah, pulled her in until Leah could feel the sand beneath her body again, and then Leah was back up, trying to help Nora.) And Leah did everything she could think of.

As the sun starts to set, Leah stops fucking with her eyebrow, pushes herself to her feet. All eyes go to her, but Leah ignores them all. She kicks her shoes off, strips off her jeans. (Toni’s eyebrows raise, but no one else reacts. This isn’t really anything too new for Leah.) It isn’t until Leah starts walking toward the ocean that Dot calls, “Hey! Not too far.”

“I know,” Leah mumbles. She just goes to the edge, takes a seat in the shallow water, lets it rush over her legs, doesn’t let it go higher than her ass. (Crazy how two days ago, Leah tried to escape this way. It could’ve been her ass getting eaten by a shark, if she’d been so unlucky. And Rachel had saved her. But yesterday, they couldn’t save Nora, and they might’ve barely saved Rachel. The jury’s still out on that. If she develops an infection…Leah doesn’t know what they’re going to do.) Leah’s thoughts shift from the shark to the pit, to the camera in the tree. (They’re being watched. She knew they were being watched. And if there’s one camera, there’s probably more. But where? And who’s watching them?)

“Hey.”

Leah suppresses a sigh. (Fatin doesn’t sit; she stands beside Leah in the ankle deep water.) “You don’t have to keep checking up on me,” Leah tells her. “I know the others always send you, but you don’t have to –”

“No one sent me.”

(Somehow, that’s almost worse.)

“You can’t help me,” Leah says. “So you should just go.”

She glances up in time to see Fatin shrug, then Fatin takes a seat in the water next to her. Fatin stretches her legs out, leans back against her hands. (She’s too close. Her leg rests against Leah’s.) “It’s kinda nice here,” Fatin comments.

“Stop.”

Fatin smiles; the look on her face, in her eyes, is too soft. “The others can’t hear us, you know,” Fatin informs. “And they kinda think we’re friends anyway, since I was the one who got you to willingly take that pill, so. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Sweetheart, all you do is worry.” Fatin sits up, reaches over and puts her palm against Leah’s (bare) thigh. Leah’s eyes drop down, lock onto Fatin’s hand. (The gesture is innocent enough, maybe. If they hadn’t fucked last night.)

Leah brushes Fatin’s hand off of her, mutters, “I’m not worried about the others thinking something’s going on between us.”

“Oh.”

“Toni and Shelby should deflect any attention off of us, right?” Leah says.

Fatin cracks a smile. “Probably.” She pauses. “Then what are you thinking about?”

“Rachel.”

Fatin scoffs. “Don’t let that bitch get under your skin.”

“And Nora.”

“Oh.”

“And the camera,” Leah whispers.

“You can’t let that drive you insane,” Fatin says. She lays her hand on Leah’s thigh again, and this time, Leah grabs it with her own, holds on.

“We’re being watched.”

“So?” Fatin scoffs. “Wait until we get out of here. We’ll sue whoever’s doing this for all they’ve got. We’ll be fucking set for life.”

Leah nods. Fatin’s eyes are on her face, scrutinizing Leah, but Leah stares out at the setting sun, tightens her grasp on Fatin’s hand. (Fatin squeezes back.)

“Leah, look at me,” Fatin says. Leah tears her eyes away from the sky, meets Fatin’s gaze. “We’re stuck here,” Fatin says firmly. “Whatever else is going on – we can’t know that shit. But we know we’re stuck. We know we have to try to stay alive. Just hold onto that, okay? We’ll get out of here. And if someone is watching us, we’ll definitely get out eventually. We just have to –”

“Stay alive,” Leah says.

“Exactly.” Fatin leans over, and with the hand not clasped in Leah’s, swipes the one tear from Leah’s cheek. “You’ll be alright,” Fatin tells her. (And how is this the same woman Leah fucked last night? Or even the same woman that Leah went to get water with, when all they fucking did was argue? How does Fatin know when to push Leah’s buttons and when to just be there?) Leah’s lips part as she searches Fatin’s eyes for…well, she isn’t really sure what she’s looking for. (But Fatin’s expression is still so soft, so understanding, and if the others weren’t all making noise at camp behind them, maybe Leah would consider leaning over and kissing her. Why she wants to do that – Leah draws a blank on an answer to that question, but she kind of doesn’t care.)

Fatin suddenly smirks. “You really thought we were only gonna fuck once,” she says.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What makes you think –?”

Fatin shrugs, releases Leah’s hand in order to reach up and swipe a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “You keep staring at my lips,” Fatin says. “Which means you’re thinking about kissing me. Which means we’re gonna fuck again.”

Leah falters. “No, we aren’t.”

Fatin laughs. “Oh, I’d put money on it.”

“You’d lose that bet.”

“Come on,” Fatin whispers, knocking her shoulder into Leah’s. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t want to.”

“You just want another orgasm. You can’t even make it twenty four hours.”

“You should’ve known if I had one, I’d want more,” Fatin dismisses. “So it’s kind of your fault.” Fatin pauses. “And I’m worried about you.”

“So you want to have sex because you’re worried about me?”

Fatin blinks. “I mean, if I say yes, will that make you wanna fuck me?”

Leah laughs against her own will, and Fatin grins at her. “You’re unbelievable,” Leah says. “Seriously.”

“I got you to laugh,” Fatin points out. “And the last time you told me I was unbelievable was last night, right before we fucked, so. But you probably should’ve also said it afterwards. Because I know that the orgasm I gave you was unbelievable.”

Leah laughs again. “You weren’t bad,” she concedes.

“Please. I wasn’t anywhere near bad. I was fucking amazing.”

“You’ve got quite an ego for a woman who came in under three minutes with very little –”

“Twenty three days!” Fatin exclaims, and they both dissolve into laughter. Leah leans her shoulder into Fatin’s, feels Fatin’s hand press against her thigh again in order to keep herself up.

“Get a room!” Toni shouts.

“Fuck off!” Fatin yells right back, still laughing. As they pull it together, Fatin pats Leah’s thigh, asks, “You good?”

“Fine.”

“Alright, let’s get out of the water then,” Fatin says. She gets to her feet, offers Leah her hands. “Get your wet ass back to camp,” Fatin teases.

“You guys are gross,” Toni says as they both drop down in front of the fire.

“You and Shelby are way grosser,” Fatin scoffs. “We all know you’re sneaking off to fuck.”

Shelby’s face burns bright red, and Martha chokes on her mouthful of water. Leah, though, joins in on Fatin’s laughter. (Surprisingly, so does Dot.)

“Alright, guys, maybe we need to lay down some ground rules then,” Dot jokes.

“Yeah, no, we don’t want to hear it,” Toni says. “But don’t worry. We’ll be discreet.”

Leah’s eyes drift over to Rachel. She’s asleep. Or maybe blacked out? Leah doesn’t know if Rachel’s unconsciousness is due to the drugs or what. But Leah swallows hard, draws her knees to her chest. (Rachel blames me.)

“No fucking near camp,” Fatin says, pointing at Toni. “Or anywhere we can hear you.”

“Mind your own business, Fatin,” Toni retorts. “You’re just jealous that we’re getting some and you aren’t.”

Fatin rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, I found a way.”

“Yeah, your toothbrush doesn’t count,” Toni says.

“You know, you do what you have to, okay?” Fatin says. “I’m trying to stay sane here.”

They keep going back and forth, with Dot occasionally interjecting with her thoughts, but Leah watches Rachel. They just have to stay alive, but that’s, like, way easier said than done. Two of them are dead already. Rachel might be on the fucking brink for all they know. They’re probably past the point of Rachel dying from a loss of blood, but she could develop an infection that they can’t treat. And who knows what could happen to any of the rest of them?

“You’re all ridiculous,” Dot snorts. “I’m going to bed.”

“You’re on Rachel slash fire duty,” Toni says. “You have to stay up until everyone else goes to sleep.”

“I’ve got it,” Leah volunteers. “I’ll take care of the fire.”

“Are you sure?” Dot asks warily.

“If Rachel wakes up, I’ll just wake you up,” Leah promises. “Unless she wakes you all up first.”

“True,” Dot agrees. “Well…thanks for taking over. Goodnight.”

Shortly after Dot lies down, Martha drags Marcus over and settles in. Then Toni and Shelby snuggle up. Fatin removes her hoops from her ears, tucks them safely in her suitcase. She unites the floral patterned shirt from around her waist, lays it out for her to put her head on. And Leah, for the first time since rejoining the group, sheds the purple camo jacket and tosses it aside.

“How’s your shoulder?” Fatin asks.

Leah startles, looks over at where Fatin’s lying on her back with her hands clasped on her (bare) stomach. (She’s only a few feet to Leah’s left.) “Fine,” Leah mutters. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Seriously, I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Leah hesitates. “For what?”

Fatin smiles thinly. “I don’t know. For whatever you might want an apology for.”

Leah shakes her head, rubs at her temples. “I don’t want an apology for anything. You didn’t do anything wrong. Except this.” Leah points at the bruise on her shoulder. “But it’s fine. Better than waking everyone up instead, so. Forget about it.”

Fatin props herself up on her elbows, staring over at Leah. “You know, you’re a lot more, like, chill about this than I expected,” Fatin admits.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Leah questions.

“I don’t know. You don’t seem like the type that would be chill about casual sex.”

Leah shrugs. “I mean, we’ve seen very clearly that we could die at any minute, right? From fucking insane things. Like sharks. It’d be a tragedy if you didn’t get at least one last orgasm in before we all bite the dust.”

A smile flickers on Fatin’s face. “The fastest orgasm of my life, at that.”

Leah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, what did you expect after you were forced to wait twenty three days for it?”

Fatin grins, body shakes with silent laughter, and Leah’s teeth sink into her lower lip. “Yeah, well, last night kinda wasn’t meant to be about me,” Fatin replies.

“Oh, please. When is anything ever not about you?”

“Hey. Rude,” Fatin laughs. “But you know, if I’m remembering right, you propositioned me for sex.”

“And you came in three minutes. It’s not my fault you couldn’t drag it out longer.”

Fatin throws a handful of sand in Leah’s direction. “You asshole,” Fatin says, shaking her head. “You know, I made out with you after you came on my face – in case you forgot – because I thought maybe we’d go another round.”

“And I was tired,” Leah replies.

“Yeah, I could tell.”

“Sue me. We had a long fucking day.”

“So?” Fatin says. “Are you seriously gonna stick to the it’s just one time bullshit?”

“Are you trying to ask me something, Fatin?” Leah teases.

“Yeah. Am I gonna have to wait however many days it takes to get out of here in order to have another orgasm?” Fatin asks. Leah hesitates. (And that’s enough of an answer for Fatin, and she grins widely.) “Yeah, okay, that’s what I thought.”

“We’re not gonna be the next Shelby and Toni,” Leah warns. “We aren’t sneaking off in the middle of the day to fuck, and we aren’t doing – whatever that is.” Leah motions over to where Toni and Shelby are all tangled up with each other.

“Oh, God, no,” Fatin says. “I already told you. I don’t sleep with the people I fuck. Like, you’re lucky I’m still talking to you right now. So yeah. None of that feelings bullshit that Toni and Shelby have going on. Way too messy, and never worth the effort.”

“Good. We’re on the same page.”

“So, Leah Rilke,” Fatin says, sitting fully upright. “Are you saying you’re going to let me use you for sex while we’re stranded out here?”

Leah rolls her eyes. “It sounds wrong when you put it like that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Only if you swear to keep it between us,” Leah says. “You can’t even tell Dot.”

“Done.”

“And you can’t hint at it, either. No dropping clues to lead Toni or Dot to the conclusion that we’re –”

“Deal,” Fatin interrupts. “Anything else?”

“Don’t fucking mark me where anyone can easily see it.”

“Got it.” Fatin gets to her feet, kicks sand onto the fire until it’s out. “Let’s go.”

“Huh?”

“There’s no fire anymore, so there’s no reason for you to put it out when the last person goes to sleep. So let’s go.”

“You want to fuck,” Leah says slowly, staring at Fatin’s outstretched hands. “Right now?”

“What’s stopping us? We did it last night.”

“You can’t go more than twenty four hours –”

“I don’t want to,” Fatin corrects. “Especially now that I know I don’t have to.” Fatin pauses. “I’ll take care of you first,” she offers. “That way you can really focus, because it’s going to take more than three minutes and some clumsy movements to get me off this time.”

“That was so embarrassing for you,” Leah says.

“I know. Shit.” Fatin wiggles her fingers, waiting. “Come on. Either take my hands now or tell me no so I can go to sleep.”

Leah stares at Fatin’s hands (at her fingers, really) for a few moments. It’s a simple choice. Yes or no. And they’ve already proven they can just laugh shit off, so. Maybe it’s not such a terrible idea. (And Leah’s only just had a small taste of what Fatin can do.)

Leah takes her hands.

*

Fatin’s fingers dig into the bruise on Leah’s shoulder, and if Leah didn’t know any better, she would think that Fatin’s doing it on purpose. (But it’s dark, and Leah knows Fatin just grabs on, just happens to be pressing her fingers into the exact spot.) Leah’s hiss of pain is immediately drowned out by Fatin’s moan, and Leah scrambles to clamp her free hand over Fatin’s mouth.

“Stop,” Leah hisses. “And, fuck, ease up on my shoulder.”

“Just let me have this,” Fatin says into Leah’s palm.

“No. They’ll hear us.”

“We need to get a better spot.”

*

“Hey, so Shelby and I had an idea.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Dot mutters. She finishes wrapping Rachel’s arm in fresh bandages. (Rachel was conscious long enough to drink water and eat something today, which Dot said is a win. Leah takes her word for it.) “Please, share your idea with us, Toni,” Dot invites. “We’re all ears.”

“We were thinking since Rachel’s out of the rotation indefinitely, and everyone hates food duty anyway, that we could just have, like permanent jobs?” Toni pitches. “At least for now. Shelby and I will be on food –”

“So you can take your time fucking in the woods?” Fatin pipes up. “Right. Got it, got it. But actually, I agree with you.”

Toni startles. “Wait. You do?”

“Yeah,” Fatin says. “I mean, unless anyone hates the job they’ve been doing the last couple days.”

Dot and Martha exchange a look, and they both shrug. “I don’t mind,” Martha says. “Unless you really hate water duty, Leah.”

Leah can feel Fatin’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. “No,” Leah mumbles. “I’m fine on water.”

“Okay, it’s settled then,” Fatin announces. “We’re all keeping our jobs. Great idea, Toni.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even have to fight you on that,” Toni laughs. “We all know water is the worst job.”

Fatin shrugs. “I don’t mind being reminded of my biggest accomplishment on this island,” she says. “I’m the only reason we all didn’t die of dehydration, like, after the first week.”

“Yeah, and we’ll never be able to thank you enough, Fatin,” Dot sneers.

“I know,” Fatin says, and she exchanges a grin with Dot. Leah resists the urge to rub at her inner thigh, at the one spot she knows is sore thanks to Fatin sucking way too hard. (Leah hasn’t been able to check if there’s a mark yet, but she doesn’t need to look. She knows it’s there.) “Alright, time to go,” Fatin announces.

“What?” Leah says.

“Yeah, come on. Might as well get a head start.”

So then they’re walking to the waterfall.

“Now we don’t have to sneak off in the middle of the night anymore,” Fatin says, knocking her hand into Leah’s arm.

“Hmm?”

Fatin sends her a seriously? kind of look. “We’re on water duty together. Every day, we’re going to be at the waterfall, alone, where the others can’t hear us.”

“Fatin, I’m not really, like, the fuck every day type,” Leah says. “And we just fucked last night.”

“Yeah, I remember. And you’re walking a little funny.” (Fatin smacks Leah’s ass, busts out laughing as Leah glares at her.) “Come on. You’ve never wanted to fuck in a body of water?”

“No. And I don’t want to fuck in our water supply. That’s gross.”

“We boil it before we drink it,” Fatin replies. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Still, it’s weird.”

“You see, this is why I usually don’t fuck women,” Fatin says.

“Okay, I shouldn’t be offended by that, but it feels like a personal attack,” Leah says.

“Women are just…so fucking high maintenance,” Fatin complains.

“You know you’re a woman,” Leah replies. “And if we accept the sexist low and high maintenance standards for a minute, you aren’t exactly a low maintenance kind of girl.”

Fatin smiles. “I know.”

“So what’s the point you’re trying to make?”

“My point is, stop being high maintenance. Fuck me in the water. Come on.”

“We’re taking care of our job first.”

(Fatin gets all the containers filled with water faster than ever.) The moment after Leah secures the lid on the last bottle, Fatin grabs her hand and yanks her into the water. (Fully clothed. So Leah’s going to have wet clothes to wear back to the beach.) Leah surfaces, pushes her wet hair out of her face, and she takes one look at Fatin and busts out laughing.

“This is such a bad idea,” Leah says.

“Yeah, now that I’m, like, in the water, I’m kinda not feeling it,” Fatin agrees.

“You? Not feeling it?” Leah teases. “That’s something new.” Before Fatin can respond, Leah splashes her.

“Hey!” Fatin splutters. “You fucking dickhead!” (She splashes Leah right back before Leah swims off.) “Get over here! I’m gonna drown you!” Fatin threatens, and Leah would be a little more concerned if Fatin wasn’t laughing so hard.

XX

Day 25

They all commit to specific jobs – Leah and Fatin on water; Toni and Shelby on food; Dot on Rachel and fire; Martha on cleaning and wood gathering

The line starts to blur; Leah catches feelings first; Fatin marks Leah intentionally next time and Leah pretends to be pissed but secretly doesn’t mind; Leah and Fatin end up sleeping right up on each other

Dot gets suspicious; Toni knows it’s happening but thinks it’s funny (she sees the mark Fatin left on Leah’s shoulder); Leah gets jealous of Dotin as her feelings for Fatin develop; after a while, Leah confides in Shelby and Shelby tells her to just tell Fatin and Fatin straight up is like “it was just sex” and Leah is crushed but moves forward and then Fatin catches feelings

Dot thinks Fatin is cheating with Toni or Shelby

[ruinedruminations]

Answer the questions and tag the fanfiction authors you know:

Thank you @mathiwrites for the tag! I decided to do this on my writing focused blog. @tamlinfairchild

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I started out writing for fandoms almost sixteen years ago during one of my family’s last vacations together. I remember specifically hauling our very chunky and dependable laptop around the resort and curling up on various benches at age twelve to type out sentences. The work that I completed that week, as embarrassing as it is, I keep in my memory box as a dedication to what has become such a huge part of my life.

How many fandoms have you written in?

Glory. Officially on Archive of Our Own, I have written things for A Court of Thorns & Roses, The Chronicles of Narnia, and Supergirl.

The Chronicles of Narnia is what drew me into the depth of world building, characters, and writing in general. I will always have a special place for it in my heart. The original character whom I created sixteen years ago for that story still accompanies me to this day. I know her better now, as one gets to know a friend. She will likely find a home in my original works as that fantasy world expands.

Supergirl had my heart for multiple years and is what got me into working on one project for an extended amount of time. I was writing a long haul with @fangirlintheforest. We met and had a strong laugh over the fact that we have the same name. We are still friends to this day.

I believe I only wrote around 20k words to that story in a year, which I have now proven I am capable of doing in a month; but it was the first time I sat down and shared my ideas with someone in the way I do today.

How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

15 going on 16 years. I started original work four or five years ago.

Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I certainly write more than I read. Often, I can’t stop writing. Occasionally, I’ve written a sentence or two at a stoplight. I definitely have skipped dinner or stayed in from gatherings in order to let the words in my brain flow from my own. Writing is a core function of who I am.

I love to read fanfiction. My favorites of all time are definitely in the Dramione fandom. Some of their works have been very influential on me.

However, when I am writing fanfiction, I tend to avoid reading anything about the characters I am currently working with unless asked.

What is one way you've improved as a writer?

I could go on and on; but the three biggest things I’ve learned in the past two years are:

One — be your own biggest fan. especially when writing original content, you will not always have readers there by your side during creation. reread your own writing more often with excitement and love than you do with criticism. the kinder you are to your mistakes, the easier they are to correct.

Two — write for you. why did you begin this story? deep inside you know the reason why. you may lack the words for it (funny, right?) but the flame is there. start it for you, finish it to make yourself proud.

Three — just write. write it badly; but don’t let anything stop you from not writing it at all.

Do you have any bad habits as a writer?

Perfectionism and avoidance. I struggle ending stories even when I know scene by scene how it goes. I think it’s important to realize that writing your conclusion is not a death, especially for the first book of many, but an opportunity.

What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Probably things on Psychopaths, Criminals, and truly dark details about death.

What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Honestly, I’m used to not getting many. So seeing them is still a bit surreal. However, I love when people point out that something truly touched their heart or made them notice something new. My emotions bleed into my words and so has the healing and trauma recovery that I have experienced in the last five years. Being able to share my grief, healing, and hope with others in ways that makes them feel seen and heard is truly what calls to my heart as a writer.

What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I’m not super fringe. I think the plot that I enjoy which I’ve heard is unpopular is a pregnancy trope. I have always enjoyed writing them, I’m not entirely sure why. I have health conditions that prevent me from having children of my own and I think incorporating that into my fiction is probably a very good outlet for me.

What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I am still learning how to write good action scenes and humor. Humor is still probably what I would consider my biggest challenge.

What is the easiest type?

Lyrical, emotional prose

Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I currently use GoogleDocs and am hoping to switch platforms soon. I want to start doing things with this blog as well. I’ve considered making a YouTube Channels about learning how to write.

What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I approach a lot of different topics, because I believe that even if I haven’t experienced something — if you step into someone else’s shoes with empathy — your own pain will translate.

But, the one thing that does intimidate me is cancel culture. I am still working through my fear of publishing because of the recent changes to fandom and reading. Authors get devoured and critiqued down to the most intimate details of their lives. Critique is important and I am probably one of the biggest free speech advocates out there, but it still scares me.

Working with beta readers and listening to people who have outside experiences helps me look at my own work new ways; but I’ve also had to accept and acknowledge that no book can ever be perfect for everyone. That is part of why we write fanfiction. As an hopeful future author, I hope that I could embrace that.

What made you choose your username?

My main blog is positivelyruined, which is a line from one of my favorite books of last year: Assistant to the Villain. I decided I wanted something that matched and this fit the bill.

[potatoesandsunshine]

12, 16, 17, and 48 please!

thank you for the ask!! these questions are from this post.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

absolutely! it’s kinda silly but for years i was only into enemies-to-lovers. i didn’t like the idea of characters starting as friends, i just wanted the Drama and Romance of hate to love. now i’m a lot fonder of the gradual slip from friendship into something different. also, not quite a trope but in the last few years i’ve really started enjoying fic written in second person. i have not come around on coffeeshop AUs.

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)?

I Am Obsessed With Sports AUs. something about them appeals to me so much, i think it’s something about how sports themselves are already great tools for narratives in real life, so it’s fun to see them play out in fanfic? i read Got a Heart in Me, I Swear by thepartyresponsible recently despite being many years out of my marvel phase, and i was hooked from beginning to end. i’m also a not-so-secret fan of time travel and groundhog day stories, the more ambiguous the ending the better (in a bed that we'll never make by SummerFrost destroyed me in the best way) because i’m sort of... sick of the time-travel fix-it.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

there are... truly so many of these in my head but the one i keep coming back to is a very slight canon divergence (or maybe it’s happening in the background the entire time?) discworld fic where the briefly-mentioned girls who work at the stamp counter in Going Postal and Making Money explore some gender feelings with Gladys the golem, have very messy affairs with the ‘interchangeable Emmas’ who volunteer at the dragon sanctuary, and consider unionization. to do this story justice i feel like i would need to do kind of a deep dive into the history of unions and i don’t really have the time for it now—and my discworld knowledge is really limited so i’d be pretty scared of getting details about the setting wrong in ways people didn’t like. for now it’s more of a daydream. i also have notes for a leverage fic set in the mass effect universe, because i think the only thing that could make me love this group of criminals more is if they were doing crime... in space! and there’s one where bella from twilight gets turned early, it Goes Wrong, and she becomes “the ultimate vampire that wastes all the other vampires and eats their bones”. literally no one is asking for that.

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?i really want to lie here and say it was Impatient to Be Free by idiopathicsmile which is this incredible fic (In 1957, female cartoonist Grantaire meets some interesting new people, joins a secret society, and attracts the notice of a woman named Enjolras. A 1950’s lesbian Amis AU.) that i want to recommend to everyone i know. but it was actually my own fic (she moves through moonbeams slowly) because i’m an ‘i wrote this so i could reread it’ fic writer and i keep coming back to this one.

[blurbry]

Rambles

Rambling Day 1:    AO3 WARNING!!!! LONG POST AHEAD!            FIRST BULLET POINT!: I have a Pseud now. For when I have the feeling or need to write *EHEM* fics. However I Most likely won’t go into too much detail as said things actually make me flushed sometimes.(While I’m Not repulsed or uncomfortable talking about it or writing about it, I just thought I’d touch on the fact that I’m still experimenting with sexuality and am not too sure if I’m actually asexual or not.) A small warning, It may contain oc x character shippings, not just head-cannoned shippings.  I will most likely not post them Publicly as most of them would be physically for me to reread and improve my writing skills, rather than to cause discourse with one who may be Uncomfortably settled with such a subject.  Even if I do Post them Publicly on tumblr, They’ll be tagged Respectively and placed on a Main blog and art blog separate blog. still so the tag can be blocked and ignored. Tumblr added nsfw Content filters for the reasons sole for you to be able to browse your content without being hit in the face with a discomforting subject.   SECOND BULLET POINT!: I’m rewriting all my old fics.  Those of you who followed my AO3, whether you ended up there through lost in dysphoria, or perhaps you were there from my very first fic Broken Glass Shattered Spirits, You’ll notice they’ve all been deleted (except for the ones I’m particularly proud of.) This is because I’m freshly applying a new coat of paint!!  Rather than a baby tiny 1000 word fic, There will be more words, more filler text to make it more interesting. More Development in situations rather than a Rushed feeling of Needing to get this out. While doin so will take me a few months, due to having the most ADHD brain in my family, I assure you when a project has been begun it hasn’t been forgotten, it’s just been pressed aside for a later date. All I ask is Im not rushed or demanded to write faster, because that’s what leads to my sloppy 1000 word writing. Schedule for writings:    Begin Lost Family Au Writing and Master Explanation. Lost Family: An Au I Made which is a Link Separate Au. All the links have tragic Life stories about Siblings or parents or how their lifestyles effect them, Leading up to the events of the Four swords being pulled, and the four meeting each other. IN this AU, the swords are four elemental blades locked deep within Temple systems, that each of the four are called to pull when the time is right.  Begin Raptured Hyrule: Raptured Hyrule is another AU I began working on in 2021 with my friends, and finally decided to publicize in 2022. This AU is if darkness was never fended, and in a way, if Zelda was corrupted by dark cloud rather than killed. It’s very angsty........     Rewrite dancing in the starlight(bluexErune) so its less short and develops more to the relationships. Dancing Scene will still apply.     Rewrite Bluebird(Blue x Vio) Blue at war, Vio is a damsel in distress waiting for him to come home, only having letters and little embroideries and crochet projects to litter the house with.     Rewrite Broken Glass Shattered spirit.(Vidow) Vio is ignoring Shadow for deep studies, Shadow goes off to find something interesting to do and has a run in with a few threatening old friends. Rewrite Angels Flying High, Originally this fic was a RedxShadow Pure angst where Red Died, and Shadow destroyed the mirror a second time just so he could get that final ounce of happiness with him. However, I’m going to change its full aspect and Make it Angel!Red Au. It will still be Shadow x Red. Rewrite Sunsets and Lavender tea (Blue x Shadow) Poor Blue is suffering nightmarish trauma from being frozen alive and Shadow is there to help *cool~* his spirits (I’ll go back in the bad berry corner again) Rewrite Darkness Within: Green/Red Corruptive AU. At a last ditch effort to save the dying light that Red brought to the world, Green performs a dangerous and irrational ritual which results in Red becoming a creature of darkness. At first Red is weary, and its oh so torturous trying to tango with such a creature when He can only come out during the hours that one needs to sleep, but its so worth it when people suddenly become less afraid of Shadow because of Red’s doings. (Look lorulians can be nice people too, don’t fight me ) Rewrite: Everything is okay (Vidow Angst) Vio sustains injuries on the battle field by a mob of Moblins, Blue took his eyes of his back for only a second, only to turn and watch him be run through with a lizzal spear. Blue has a panic attack, He promised Shadow he’d make sure vio came home unharmed.. Vio almost dies, but miraculously was saved by a fairy and a very, Very upset travelling shadow.  These will not be redone in the exact ordering of this post.    

[fvji-kvjakv]

DIRECTOR’S CUT AND COMMENTARY

OPENING NOTES:

hello hello!!! i’ve always wanted to do a commentary and for my first to be for this fic, i couldn’t even begin to say how pleased i am. over the last few months, this fic has been my baby: i don’t write plot, i don’t like fluff, but this prompt just called out to me and i knew i could finally write the comedy of my dreams. 

the reason i called it supercut is explained later in the fic, so i hope you manage to catch that line! as far as characterisation goes, i think it’s a kind of dynamic you can expect from two people who have only been around each other all their lives. there’s nothing else there until you see them apart. they just gravitate towards each other. the reason i mainly shed light on san’s character through flashbacks was because i needed there to be the perfect level of “you are my past, present and future” for me. this was just what worked.

what you have received is exactly what my humour is, unfortunately, so i only pray you find this fic funny as well. written with no purpose but to make readers laugh, i hope supercut was enjoyable to read, and i can’t wait to see if anyone managed to pick out all the real scenarios from this fic considering there are so MANY, some of which i mention in this commentary. 

but i have to say before i start that i do not remember writing any of this for most part, so i’ll only be talking about little easter eggs i’ve thrown in here that i only noticed during this reread. with that out of the way, let’s begin! 

COMMENTARY:

And then he’s out like a light. As San slumbers next to him, Wooyoung can’t help but wonder if the human heart was meant to beat this loudly.

ok. so. what a way to start. i don’t actually have much to say about the scene generally, apart from that i only wrote this to set the tone and shed some light on what wooyoung and san’s relationship used to be and what it eventually evolves into.

Wooyoung had snorted, and the visual of Mingi walking into a glass wall right then had immediately changed the subject, and that was the end of that.

inspired by the time i ran full speed into a wall of glass and cried about it bc i got made fun of by my cousins

Wooyoung calls it objective admiration and Yeosang calls it bullshit. Jongho usually likes to stay out of their business.

very much inspired by my group of friends

“House,” Wooyoung says. “He says to bring bitches.”

“I’m already bringing you, though,” San immediately answers, and then ducks when Wooyoung throws a pillow at him. “Who’s going?”

this is. so funny to me personally. this fic became a very weird amalgamation of american and english humour and you can really tell when you start to read: there are some specific english vocabularies used later to mark the difference, but the reason i mixed things up (as far as i remember), is because as an international student abroad, your humour tends to match up in a lot of funky ways. i think it is inevitable to kind of. end up with layers. to You as a person esp with forced proximity and a change in environment but i love it because it describes my friends and i very accurately! (can u tell i wrote supercut with my loved ones in mind) 

“Proudly,” San sneers, and then he chugs half the carton in one go. “Now scram. I can feel you staring. I know I’m the sexy husband but I’m not just a hot piece of ass, you know.”

this is directly taken from conversations i’ve had with friends where we roleplay as a really messy friend group. married to. each other 

Wooyoung is deep into Yeosang’s bottle of Captain Morgan’s

all we did first year was drink rum <3 

Yeosang has been trying to roll a joint for the better half of the last hour while his boyfriend watches helplessly and the others are playing the world’s most intense round of Monopoly Deal when the doorbell rings. 

the amt of times i have been yeosang here. and also the amt of times i’ve had game nights with friends and family and it always ends with violence 

“So,” Yeosang starts, “Monthly BDSM test?” 

Wooyoung turns his phone back on.

idk what to tell u. my friends and i did this monthly just to mess with each other

“Your mum,” Yeosang says.

Jongho just whistles and reaches for a high five. “Nice.”  

San glares. “What are you, twelve?”

“Yeah,” Yeosang nods casually, blowing a blueberry-flavoured stream of vapour at San’s face. “Twelve inches in your mum.”

very real conversation i heard my cousin say to another player when we were 12 years old and fucking with them online over a game of cod (minus the vape)

It’s so loose, kief falling from the tip, that even San just stares at him. “Yes, I know it sucks. Jongho—”

#throwback to the time my horrid rolling skills let me down at what felt like rock bottom 

Wooyoung tiredly wipes a bead of sweat from his temple before bringing his hand to wipe away the juice all over his mouth. He’s made a mess, he thinks, eyeing the green stickiness all over his palm. His brother’s going to tease him all over again.

this is nothing more than what used to be routine for me: my uncle had a car and he would usually take all of us to the park and then to the harbour where we’d get slushies and popsicles while we watched the sunset…!

San babbling next to him about the newest Digimon game his sister has gifted

this was actually a very common occurrence in my household growing up, though i do have to confess it was mostly about pokémon! we were little nerds on picnics with our gameboys out <3 

“I bet you liked it.”

The silence is deafening.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jongho asks gently. “I genuinely want to know.”

i was jongho in this scene 

“Don’t you make playlists all the time?”

part of the reason why this prompt called out to me is that the main arc is making playlists — something i do constantly all the time because it’s a big love language of mine. it just felt a little funny, picking apart my whole life, only to end up with this fic. but i think that’s why this one will always mean so much! 

Glimmering smiles over the edges of wine. Hushed commentaries about the relevance of Gossip Girl in today’s climate and frozen pizza.

Things inevitably go back to normal as things always do.

there’s nothing for me to comment on i just really like this bit 

They’ve known each other for years—months weeks days hours minutes seconds—and Wooyoung doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that San has conveniently wiped their history away, leaving nothing but a blank slate.

the reason i highlighted this was because i needed it to be emphasised just How long they have known each other like how many seconds in those years have they spent together and with each other. a little crazy

San is humming along to the opening notes of Mr. Brightside

have u lived in england if u haven’t sung this on every night out actually

“I’ve always wanted to kiss someone to this song,” he blurts.

my best friend and i had a very serious discussion about him wanting to do this and i’m glad to update everyone with news that he has succeeded thumbs up emoji

“This is going to sound awful,” Jongho finally says, laughing under his breath as he leans back in his seat, a distant look on his face. “But probably when I realised I’d let him roll shitty joints for me forever.”

this is 100% real one of my friends said this to my face 

“Put that camera away!” Wooyoung yells, “What are you waiting for?”

this seems much. bigger than it actually is. but this is taken from the time i went on a trip around uk and did a lot of hiking with my friends. we were setting off fireworks to celebrate the new year, and one of my friends who’s a photographer wouldn’t come set them off because he was too busy taking pictures of us! 

“On God, man.”

“Just stop talking.”

“Anyway, when is our train tonight?”

“Oh, it’s—”

this entire phone call. i was asleep, hungover and also sick to boot, and my cousin who’s about 8 hours ahead had called me without realising i was majorly unwell. it went exactly like this, only for him to ask me where his girlfriend was. of course, i hung up on him without further response. 

Tonight, every single one of them was in Leeds for the weekend—they got an Airbnb, they stole their host’s rolling paper while arguing that there shouldn’t have been rolling paper in the first place, and then they cracked the bottles out once they started getting ready, long-winded compilations of Max Verstappen and Charles LeClerc playing in the background, courtesy of Jung Yunho’s current Formula 1 phase.

those who have my twitter will know what this is about. but basically. me and moot were in london bc she was visiting me and we literally ran out of rolling paper on the second day in the middle of her getting me into f1. we checked all over the place and what do u know. the paper is right there. it should not have been there but thank u olga. if u are seeing this that is why u have a new set of rolling papers in ur drawer i felt really bad and wanted to get a new one for u

Wooyoung just lets out a breathless laugh before he promptly turns around, letting San settle behind him. Dizzee Rascal blares from the speakers, the familiar beat thundering through his veins.

the song is dance wiv me btw this is one of the three songs my friends and i Must play during pres before we go out

“Go piss, girl,” comes Yeosang’s voice.

no comment i just think this is so funny 

Wooyoung knows one thing: he can’t make this shit up anymore.

also no comment but <3 this is tian’s line <3 thank u for the feedback and support i luv u so much

jongho: fuck mondays…… i mean its just another day to me but for the school students out there, fuck mondays……

ANOTHER REAL CONVO nier. never change. i love you

When Wooyoung is sixteen, pants around his ankles while he takes the biggest shit of his life to Eminem’s Ass Like That, his girlfriend dumps him.

umm. also real. i was literally mid shit when the guy i was seeing ended things over text and all i said was “ok cool be well king 🙏” 

San is already watching him, hand raised to bring his beer to his mouth. There’s a soft smile playing on his lips, gaze terribly warm and tender. Slow and unbothered. Somehow, they always find each other. The music disappears until it’s just the two of them. You’re my best friend. I’m living. Young-ah. San is looking at him like he knows something Wooyoung doesn’t again. Does that taste good? You’re my forever. What are you waiting for? San takes a step, then two, and then he’s walking over. Young-ah, Young-ah, Young-ah. You’re my forever, San’s voice echoes. 

this entire paragraph. it means so much to me. i think my style has changed so much since the first fic i had ever written for ateez, and i would like to think that all the experiences i’ve had here, with everyone around me, i have grown. as a writer and as a person. to be honest, i think i spoiled myself with this fic and i can never go back to writing dirty things like i used to. i think this is the kind of writing i am meant to produce.

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

“Oh,” Wooyoung breathes. He nods once, twice. “Okay. I love you too.”

okay. so. this. i couldn’t make them get together in a flashy, manic way. it needed to feel natural, and what i felt was that these two knew it was the right time, that it is finally time to take the next step. because it makes sense and because it is as natural as breathing. and so it is. like that. 

Their walk home isn’t rushed as Wooyoung expects. They take the ten minutes and walk around aimlessly in circles until it’s been at least an hour of San telling Wooyoung what his day has been like until they reach their place.

THIS PART!!!!! again, back to it being natural. it is just another day for them, all things considered, so it just makes sense to keep going about life as they always do. they’ll figure it out together. 

The bell dings once they’ve reached their floor, and instead of stepping out of the elevator, San keeps on kissing Wooyoung like he knows he will be able to do it again.

you don’t know. how obsessed i am with this line. that san finally knows he can kiss wooyoung. that he can keep doing it forever. or as long as wooyoung wants because he’s been waiting for so long. waiting for wooyoung to catch up. 

He shakes when San presses a finger inside him and he laughs when San says I love you against his belly.

they are just so!!!! elated!!!!! and giddy!!!!!!!!!!!

They talk about anything and everything and Wooyoung cries himself laughing when San tells him that after the seduction attempt, San had jacked himself off and cried because he had felt so guilty about defiling the memory of his best friend in his head.

I’M SORRY LIKE. THE VISUAL WAS TOO FUNNY NOT TO WRITE

Watches San moan Wooyoung’s name until Wooyoung’s hips are stuttering on every gasp. Watches as San falls in love with him a million times in a matter of seconds.

just another line that i Especially love <3

as for the sex scene, i actually didn’t want to write it at first. i originally only had two little paragraphs dedicated to the scene because i had wanted to step away from smut and see things without a nsfw lens. but then they started acting up. i had to write Something even if it was miniscule and not at all my style <3 

“I was born by C-section so I’m a gold star gay,” Yeosang says smoothly, not even missing a beat. “No vaginas on my record.”

THIS IS REAL I PROMISE we now refer to the guy who said this to my best friend as “c-section gay”

“You absolute bellend,” Wooyoung says, shooting Yeosang a venomous glare.

“You’re already learning!”

only because my two favourite aggressively english words to use are “cunt” and “bellend” 

wooyoung: why do my feet always feel so warm when i wake up

yeosang: we don’t want to hear abt ur feet wooyoung

san: @wooyoung sorry ill stop

taken from the time nier admitted to liking my feet  

“Wait, did you buy another Polo pack again? I can’t fucking taste anything, mate.”

my polo addiction… 🕊️💔

Just as he predicts, Yeosang and Jongho get back together. Taylor Swift and Joe Alwyn on the other hand, he figures, is not for him to decide.

this entire scene is dedicated to my best friend who cried about them breaking up. update: she is keeping up to date with the matty healy dating rumours, and i have to say, i don’t think she is pleased. 

San surprises him with a tub of ice cream and a Spotify playlist, sitting on a bench and talking for what seems like hours until they finally get up and start making their way back.

OK. THIS BIT. i intentionally made it sound like a throwaway line but it is not. it’s overshadowed by the Very dirty sex implied right after, but this is the first time san ever makes a playlist. and he intentionally made it for wooyoung who is his sole audience. it just felt fitting to end with a playlist since it begins with a playlist. full circle, lads. 

CLOSING NOTES:

PHEW. what a ride. i didn’t realise i had so much to say in so little, but i’m thankful. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i may not remember much, but the few memories i have are all good. 

this fic made me want to Write again after years of staying away from plot. i think i’m one step closer to figuring myself out. additionally, thank you to all of my friends who took the time out of their day to encourage me to write this, i cannot thank you enough. i can’t wait to write another fic for you soon. 

see you when the next one comes out, my loves! <3 

[phantomsgirlfriend]

Not so Bad

Jason Todd x fem!Reader

warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, slight enemies to lovers, p in v, biting, rough sex, reader is a tease

It was a slow day at Wayne manor, and you were sat in the library reading a book to pass the time. It was one of those days where you could read and reread a page and realize that you weren’t actually retaining anything you’d read because you were so lost in thought. 

You heard someone clear their throat and looked up to see Jason walking into the library. Your eyes shot daggers at him. The both of you had a mutual dislike of each other for no particular reason, and you found his presence insufferable. He glared at you and went to find his own quiet corner to read at. You went back to your book, but you knew it was no use. You couldn’t concentrate and your mind wandered and so did your eyes. They looked around the room at the grand library. It satisfied your dark academia soul and normally this would be your ideal setting for diving deep into a book, but your brain wasn’t feeling it today. Your eyes continued to wander around until they finally settled on the boy. The way his eyebrows were furrowed told you he was completely absorbed into his novel. You let your eyes settle on his sharp jawline and made their way down his strong arms and further down to his thick thighs. It didn’t help that he was wearing grey sweatpants. Your eyes decided to settle there for a minute longer and subconsciously dragged your tongue along your lips. You swallowed thickly before signing loudly, so that Jason would hear you. Unfortunately for you, he continued focusing on his book. You got up from your chair and stretched, making sure to reach your arms extra high so your shirt would lift, revealing your midriff. Still, he didn’t seem to notice. You walk around the library and nonchalantly attempt to make your way to him. This earns you another glare from Jason. At least you got his attention. 

You plop down on the couch next to him. “Whatcha reading bird brains?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in. It doesn’t have any pictures, so I don’t think you’d understand what’s going on.” He teases.

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” You reply. He goes back to ignoring you, and you’re desperate for attention so you come up with a new way to tantalize this man. You’re feeling quite daring today, so you decide to snatch the book out of his hands and make a run for it. 

“Y/N what the hell!? Are you really going to make me come after you?” He raises a brow. 

You blow a raspberry, and this earns you the reaction you want from him. He gets up from the couch and runs towards you. You try to get away but in the close quarters of the library there isn’t much room for you to escape. He tackles you to the ground and pins your hands above your head making you giggle. He looks at you quizzically, his faces only inches away from yours.

“What are you up to Y/N?” He questions.

“Nothing. I’m just admiring how look you good from down here” you tease.

Jason scoffs.

“Oh, cmon undead boy, I doubt you’ve never thought about it before. Besides, we’re the only one’s home and the day is just going by so agonizingly slow.” You pout your lips. 

Jason gets up with his book in his hands. “As if Y/N.” 

“Yeah, right Jason. I saw the way you were staring at me during the gala the other night. Besides, you can’t deny that there’s definitely some tension between us.”

“Sure. Ok, and? If I’m getting this right…the only reason you wanna hook up right now is because you’re bored?”

You shrug. “Why are you so hesitant Jay?” You ask, running your hand up his arm and giving his bicep as squeeze. You lick your lips and swallow thickly. 

“If you really want to ease the tension, I suggest a sparring session. That should take care of the boredom as well.”

“Fine.”

 You make your way down to the cave where the training area is. Jason doesn’t go easy on you, but you don’t mind. It only takes you one small slip up and he’s got you pinned to the floor once again, panting. Before he has the chance to move, your hands are running through his hair, earning you a confused look. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you waste no more time in closing the gap between you. Your lips crash against his and to your surprise he’s kissing you back. You part your mouth, and he happily slides his tongue in. His hands move to your wise and you wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Fuck me, Jason” you say into his ear. He grunts and lifts you up to push you against the wall. Your hands fist his hair as he presses open mouth kisses down your throat. You can feel his hard length against your core and you’re already clenching at the thought. 

“Wait, wait” you pant. “Take me to a bed first.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and tosses you over his shoulder as he takes you upstairs to a bedroom. 

He puts you down and you hurriedly undress yourself to jump at him once again. You nearly trip him as he tries getting out of his sweatpants. You take his length in your hands and give him a few strokes although he’s already quite hard. Jason’s not having this though and he lifts you up again and takes you to the bed. He pushes you down and runs his length along your slick folds. You moan. 

“Already so wet for me?” 

You only hum in response. 

Without much warning he pushes into you. This has you dragging your nails down his back. He groans and kisses you deeply. The stretch from his cock stings a bit, but it has you feeling so delightfully full. Jason begins to set a quick pace with his thrusts and your nails dig into his back. He hisses and bites your bottom lip. He places a particularly deep thrust into you that makes you lean your head back on the pillow, leaving your neck exposed for him to suck on. You tug at his hair aggressively and he sinks his teeth into your flesh. You let out another moan. Jason’s hands dig into your hips as he places fast and deep thrusts into you. As he sinks into you, his pelvic bone hits your clit, making you fist the sheets. 

Jason keeps up at a fast pace and you feel that familiar coil inside you. Your walls flutter around Jason’s cock as you come hard, and he keeps rocking into you. He lets out a groan, and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier. He finishes with a loud groan into the crook of your neck as you run your fingers through his hair. He begins to move off you, but you hold him down against your chest. 

“Wait. I want to feel you a little longer.” You say. He agrees and lays his head against your chest. You continue stroking his hair. 

Maybe bird boy wasn’t so insufferable after all.

[tom-holland-parker]

I Wanna Wear Your Tie

Request: Can you please do a professor tom x student reader, she’s of age of course, and he takes a liking to her for being so smart and he can barely contain himself with every outfit she wears. And one day after class he asks her to hang back and things get very SMUTTY?

Warning: 18 + SMUT (oral, choking, vaginal sex), student/teacher relationship, cursing, age gap (legal)

Pairing: Professor!Tom x Student!Reader

Word count: 4081

Masterlist

Tom knew from the first time you walked into class he was going to have a hard time. Not because you were a trouble maker, he heard from your other professors that you were an extremely bright and well rounded student, but because you liked to wear the shortest sundresses he’d ever seen. Tom knew he fucked up by developing a crush on his student. It was immoral and he could lose the job he worked so hard to get. 

Tom had been staring at the email all weekend, debating all his choices. He knew the right thing to do was to report it and let the school handle everything, but a big part of him told himself to do otherwise.

Dear Professor Holland,

I want to wear your tie while you fuck me

Love Y/N

Tom let out a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes, refreshing his inbox once more in hopes you had sent another email, an explanation or maybe even an apology, anything that would avoid him having to send the response that he had drafted Friday night after he received your message. Of course as the hours passed he knew that hoping was pointless, Tom sighed looking over his drafted email for what seemed like the 100th time before hitting send. 

Ms. Y/L/N

In regards to your last email I have no choice but to report it to the school. I do, however, acknowledge that you are one of my highest scoring students so it is only fair that I give you a chance to explain yourself. Please meet me in my office Monday after class

Professor Holland

Little did Tom know you were freaking out, spending Saturday nursing your hangover from partying Friday night. It was a drunken mistake, you would’ve never sent the email had you been sober but leave it to the vodka to let you do something stupid.

You had one day to come up with some apology and still couldn’t find the right words. Countless drafts saved in your notes app, but none good enough to express the regret you felt by sending that email. Of course time wasn’t on your side and the hours moved faster than usual. Finally it was Monday afternoon and you sat in your door waiting for your final class of the day, his class

“Maybe if you just tell him it was a mistake he’ll understand” Your roommate Kendra laughed as she looked at your computer, you’d been rereading the email for hours, hoping it would go away. Glancing at the clock you sighed, “I have his class in an hour, how am I going to face him”

“You could skip”

“I’m already in enough trouble as it is I can’t skip class” You sighed, closing the laptop as you moved to put on your shoes, “I’ll just give the best apology he’s ever heard of and hopefully it’ll all work out”

Kendra chuckled, “who knows maybe you’ll get exactly what you wanted”. You rolled your eyes, “I’ll text you after class”

///

Tom watched as you entered class, his eyes trailing over your outfit, you were wearing his favorite dress, white with blue flowers. He chuckled at your innocent appearance but frowned when he noticed you taking a seat in the back instead of your usual seat in the front.

You showed up to class right on time, looking at your feet to avoid any eye contact with Tom. It was hard to concentrate when all you could think about was that stupid email. It didn’t help that he was wearing a tie today, the same tie you’d imagine him gagging you with on most nights. You shook your head trying to focus on forming an apology that wasn’t absolutely pathetic

“Alright class is over, If you have any questions about the assignment you can” his gaze shifted towards you, “email me”

Your eyes widened as you distracted yourself by putting your things in your bag. As if the universe wanted to see you completely embarrass yourself in front of the teacher you’d been crushing on all semester, you piled out the class with the rest of the students, trudging down the hallway towards his office. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, pacing back and forth as you tried to compose yourself. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage as you knocked on the door 

“Come in” You heard his muffled voice from behind the door. You took a deep breath as you twisted the door knob walking into the well lit office. 

“Hi Professor, you said you needed to see me” You say trying to seem innocent. He cleared his throat pointing to the leather seat in front of his desk, “Please have a seat” 

Slowly you make your way to the seat, placing your bag on the floor as you stare at him. Tom took a deep breath, opening the email as he passed you his laptop, “When I get an email from my brightest student I expected a question about her latest essay not this”

Your face heated in embarrassment as you handed him the laptop, “Professor I’m so sorry I was very drunk Friday night and I know that isn’t an excuse but I didn’t mean to send that. If I could take it back I would just please don’t report this”

Tom watched as tears slowly began to trail down your face, “y/n I’m not going to report you”. 

You looked at him in disbelief, “Seriously”

“but you’re not getting off that easily” He closed his laptop, “You’ll be spending the week and your weekend helping me grade papers”

You let out a sigh of relief, “thank you professor I’m really sorry it ever happened”

Tom chuckled, “You’re one of the smartest girls in my class. I would hate to see you get in trouble because of one drunk mistake” You wiped your tears away, feeling yourself relax now that you knew you weren’t going to be in too much trouble. “After all you’re only young once, just try to keep your thoughts in a diary and not your emails”

You chuckled, picking up your bag as you got up to leave, “will do professor”

///

Tom instantly regretted his decision. Don’t get him wrong, having the extra help was amazing but it was hard to concentrate when all you wore were short dresses. He spent all week sitting at his desk, too afraid to get up for fear that his body would betray him and you see the hard on he was trying desperately to get rid of. Seeing you in class was hard enough but when he watched you in what seemed like your natural element it changed something in him.

He watched as you sat on the couch in his office, your hair tied back and your glasses slowly sliding down your face, every once in a while you had to push them back in place. Tom couldn’t help but smile at the faces you made while reading the essays, a look of annoyance when you read over an obvious mistake or the way your eyebrows furrowed when you wrote the feedback. He tried his hardest to keep his laughter inside whenever you got distracted and drew little faces in the margins. He hated to admit it, it made him feel terrible, but he was a professor falling for his student

“Professor I’m not sure about this” You said getting up from the couch as you walked towards his desk. Your voice knocked him out of his trance as he watched you hand the paper to him, “See the evidence goes along with the topic sentence but the explanation is still choppy” 

You watched as Tom took the paper from you, your breathing hitching when his hands grazed over yours. You shook your head reminding yourself that you were already here because your stupid feelings and if you kept letting yourself indulge in what was supposed to be your punishment you were going to end up in the deans office.

“I see what you mean,” Tom said looking over the paper, “just circle the paragraph and place it in the pile and I’ll look over it later.” He looked up, surprised to see how close you were to him, your chest inches away from his face. It was just his luck that you decided to wear a low cut dress today.

“Okay” You replied, taking the paper from him as you slowly moved back to the couch. Tom glanced at the clock noticing how late it was getting, “Well it’s getting late and you probably want to spend the you weekend somewhere way entertaining than here so you can leave, punishment over”

“Are you sure? I still owe you two more days and it doesn’t feel fair to end my punishment early” You said, grabbing another paper. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay because it actually felt unfair or if you really just wanted an excuse to keep spending time with him. 

“Well if you insist, '' he chuckled, a part of him happy that you weren’t eager to leave, “But we can finish this tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk you out”

You gathered your things, meeting Tom at the door where he waited for you, his hand resting on your back as he guided you out the room, locking the door behind him. “It’s dark, I’ll walk you to your car, Where are you parked?” Tom said looking at the parked cars on the street

“I don’t drive” You said awkwardly, “But my dorm is only a few blocks away from here I don’t mind walking”

Tom shook his head, “No way I’m letting you walk, it's too dangerous, I’ll drive you.” You watched as he took his keys out his pocket unlocking the black BMW parked across the street.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way” you looked down on your feet, here you were again too flustered to even look at him. Tom chuckled at your nervousness, “Don’t worry about it. I insist on it.” Your breath hitched as he placed his hand on your back again, guiding you towards the car.

It only took a few minutes for him to get to your dorm building, “well here we are” He said, parking his car before looking at you. You glanced at him nervously, “Thanks Professor”

“Call me Tom” he chuckled, “But only when were alone”

You wanted to punch yourself for feeling butterflies but you couldn’t help it. “Well Tom” You laughed, calling him by his name felt weird, “thank you”

He watched as you moved to grab the door handle but froze, “Oh I forgot to ask you about your assignment”

“What’s up?” he shrugged. “Well I know you wanted us to write about how the author uses the women in his novel to display power but I can’t write about that. The author clearly doesn’t see the woman as symbols of power he sees them as sex objects, which is shown multiple times throughout the text so I can’t write about something that isn’t true”

“So you don’t believe sex is a form of power?” Tom questioned trying not to smile at the way your brows furrowed in concentration

“Of course I believe sex is a form of power but for the author to display women having sex as a symbol for powerful femininity the woman would have to own their sexual desires and wants”

Tom chuckled, “If you really feel so strongly about that then write about it, I’d love to hear more about what you have to say about owning your sexual desires. Seems to me you know a lot about that” 

“Oh my god” You hide your face in your hands, “I didn’t even realize-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, if you can’t joke about it then you’ll let it eat you alive” Tom chuckled

“Well” you smiled, “I should probably get to writing”

“Yeah you should”

You both didn’t even noticed the way you both began to slowly lean into each other, the tension in the car growing thick

“Goodnight professor”

“It’s Tom” He said with a smile

You scrunch your nose, “Goodnight Tom”

Your faces were inches away from each other. He couldn’t help but steal a quick glance at your lips before looking back at your eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same, “Goodnight y/n”

You both stayed silent, letting the tension take over. Your lips grazing over each other. The kiss was slow at first but it soon progressed into passionate open mouth kisses, both of you giving into your desires.

Your hands reached to grab his face, shocked at how soft his cheeks felt. “Wait wait wait” Tom said, pulling away slowly. 

You caught your breath, wiping your lips as you moved back into your seat, “I should probably go”

Before Tom could say a word you were out the car rushing towards the dorm building. “Fuck” he said to himself as he leaned back into his seat. He knew he’d fucked up, but he couldn’t help the way he felt when he kissed you.

///

When you knocked on Tom’s office door the next day you were even more nervous than you were Monday. You were too embarrassed and instead of facing the problem head on you did what you did best, ignored it. 

You spent the afternoon on the couch, headphones on as an excuse to block out Tom. If you had a question you didn’t ask it and when you had a comment you didn’t say it. It was pure torture for you and Tom, yet you both chose to ignore the elephant in the room.

As the hours passed and the sun began to set Tom’s patience was growing thin. He couldn’t pretend like the kiss never happened, and if he was being honest with himself he wanted more.

You sighed in frustration, as hard as you tried to concentrate on the papers in front of you, you just couldn’t. Thoughts about last night flooded your brain making it hard to concentrate on even the simplest sentences. You threw the paper on the couch, ripping your headphones off, “I’m sorry but this silence is killing me, can we just get this awkward conversation over with”

“Alright well” Tom stared at you, unsure what to say. Yes he felt wrong but he also didn’t care. He got a taste of you and now he wanted more, “I apologize for what happened, it was completely unprofessional on my part”

You cleared your throat trying to find the right response, “yeah, well, I'm sorry too, we were both in the wrong and it shouldn’t have happened and I’m really hoping we can just move past this” 

“Yes I agree” Tom nodded his head, “So how are those papers coming along?”

You shrugged, sitting down in the exact leather chair you’d sat in on Monday, “There needs to be a study group or something, I mean if this is the writing skills of our future world leaders I’m honestly a little concerned”

Tom chuckled, his hands instinctively reaching for his tie, something you noticed he did subconsciously. Your heart skipped a beat as your stomach fluttered, “god get a grip girl” You thought as you blinked your lust filled thought away.

Tom smirked, noticing your reaction to the way you reacted to him, “Yes well not everyone has an easy time with writing as you do”. He touched his tie again, this time tugging on the knot a little.

Your breath hitched as your brain went foggy. A low chuckle leaving his mouth as you shook your head, “Well I’m not that great of a writer, I mean I have countless drafts that no one sees”

“Really?” Tom played with his tie, loving how much the simple habit affected you, “How many drafts did you make before you sent that email?”

Your eyes widening in surprise, “no drafts. Drunk me is the best writer”

Tom smiled, getting up from his seat as he moved to stand in front of you. You watched as he leaned against his desk. You bit your lip as you leaned back into the chair, enjoying the way that Tom seemed so much taller than you.

“You know you probably shouldn’t say that to your professor”

You smirked, “There’s a lot of things I shouldn’t say to my professor” You were playing with fire but the heat felt too good, it made you want to know what the burn felt like. “Fuck it, what’ve you got to lose” You thought to yourself as you smiled.

“Oh yeah?” Tom’s eyebrow raised in question as he leaned down towards you, his face only inches from you, “things like what?”

You smiled bringing your lips close to his ear, “Like how much I want you to fuck me”

The groan that left Tom had your thighs clenching together, “Yeah you definitely shouldn’t tell me that.” You chuckled as you leaned back in the seat, Tom’s eyes moved over your body like you were a work of art, “but then again as a teacher I probably shouldn’t want to fuck my student so badly”

Your lips parted in surprise as Tom smirked, his fingers gently trailing up your thigh. Your breath hitched in anticipation but a disappointed sigh left your mouth when his hand didn’t move past the hem of your short dress. “If this happens no one can know”

You nodded your head as his hand grabbed your chin, keeping your head in place and forcing you to look into his eyes, “Words darling”

“No one finds out” You gulped, your body frozen. You could feel yourself getting wet from the power he held over you. The feeling of his having control over you was intoxicating

“And you understand that I will never use this against you? You can leave right now and I will forget this ever happened and we can go right back to our normal professional student-teacher relationship”

“I understand professor” You nodded, wanting nothing more than for his hands to be all over you. 

“Good girl” He smiled, placing a quick kiss on your forehead, “Now go sit on my desk and spread those legs”

You smiled, quickly doing as you were told. Tom chuckled, amused by your excitement. You watched as he got on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he places kisses up your thighs, occasionally leaving a mark that would stay for days to come. “You’re so wet, all this over a couple of kisses?” He teased

Before you could answer Tom moved your underwear aside, placing a gentle kiss on your clit. You moaned, your hand instinctively reaching for his hair. “I knew you would taste good,” He said, licking his lips. He ate you like you were his last meal, licking and slurping you like a starving man. 

You’d never been more thankful that the school was empty on Saturdays, no one around to hear the moans that Tom was coaxing out of you. “Oh god” Your hips shamelessly bucking against his face as he pulled your legs onto his shoulder.

“Tom please” You whimpered as his tongue slowed down to a teasing pace. He groaned, his large hand slapping your thigh, “It’s professor.” His voice was demanding and powerful. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers stretched you, toes curling as he effortlessly found your g-spot. “Professor please I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me baby” He moaned, “I want your cum all over my face”

His fingers moved faster as you reached your breaking point, loud moans leaving your mouth as your back arched. You could feel Tom smirking against your clit as your legs began to slightly shake. 

“You sound so pretty when you cum” Tom said as he stood up, your cum making his face glisten in the last bits of light that came from the windows of the office. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer as you licked your cum off his face. 

“Someone’s eager” He joked as you kissed down his neck. “Hmm I can’t help it, you just look so sexy with my cum on your face. Plus I’ve been wanting this all semester so are you gonna give me what I want or am I gonna have to get it from someone else”

Tom’s jaw tightened as he grabbed your wrist, “Don’t be a brat or I’ll edge you all night and leave you with nothing”

You whimpered as Tom pulled you off the desk, “Now if I remember correctly,” you watched as he loosened his tie, “You wanted to wear this.” You nodded your head, watching as he took off the blue and white tie, taking a deep breath as he placed it around your neck. 

“And as much as I love you in this dress, I think I’d prefer for you to be out of it” He smirked. You chuckled, turning around so he could unzip the dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Tom’s arms snaked around your body he pulled your back into his. His fingers playing with your nipples, squeezing and pulling the sensitive area. You bit your lip, rubbing your ass against his hard on, your pussy desperate for more attention.

“Professor” You wined, “I want you”

“So needy baby” He chuckled against your skin as he kissed up your shoulder and neck, “Don’t worry, you’ve been a good girl I won’t tease you too much”

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hand twisted the tie, making it tighter around your throat, “Is this okay?” You nodded, wincing when his hand roughly slapped your ass, “Come on sweetheart you're smart enough to know that when I ask a question I expect an answer. Now use your words”

“Yes Professor” You said moaning as his hand gently rubbed the area he’d just hit. Tom quickly unbuckled his pants, pushing them down as he aligned himself with you. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock on your clit, loving the low whimpers that escaped your mouth as your hips jolted up. 

Tom’s grip on your hips tightened, pushing you down into the desk as he bottomed you out. You moaned loudly as he began to thrust into you, “This is what you wanted right? Your professor fucking you like a slut”

You gripped the desk, trying your best to keep your balance. Tom gripped the tie again, the fabric pulling your head back. “Faster please Professor” You begged as you moved your hips. 

His hips sped up as his hand moved in front of you tracing figure eights on your clit. You became light headed from how tight the tie was but you couldn’t care less it all felt too good. “Sir Please It’s too much I’m gonna cum”

“Go on baby cum on my cock, give it to me” Tom sped up, becoming needier as he came closer to cumming. He pulled your body into his, fucking up into you as he kissed the harsh line where the tie met your skin. The sensation was too much for you as you came, your walls squeezing Tom, milking his cock of all his cum as he came shortly after you.

Your body went limp, leaning against the desk so you didn’t fall to the floor. Tom sighed, pulling out of you, groaning when he saw his cum leaking out your abused hole. “You did so good” Tom whispered as he kissed up your spine, “Such a good girl for me”

You slowly got up, turning around to face him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Tom smiled, picking you up and moving you to the couch, where you sat cuddled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked, still placing kisses all over your body

“I’m cold” You said, your head resting against his shoulder. He chuckled, quickly grabbing his jacket from his chair before returning to your tired body. You laid in his lap with his jacket wrapped around you, Tom’s hand running up and down your spine as he kissed your forehead.

You glanced at the clock, “it’s getting late”

Tom sighed, “let’s just stay like this for a little while, then we’ll get you dressed and I’ll drive you to your dorm”

[idkjustletmescroll]

Detail I haven’t noticed anyone talking about

You know something I noticed about six of crows that I don’t see anyone talking about so maybe I’m just overthinking it?

Jan Van Eck is always on about how Wylan is stupid and useless because he can’t read, right? 

But Wylan goes on the Ice Court Heist, considered suicidal and impossible, and he may not be a POV character in SOC or as flashy as Jesper, but he does play an important role. He gives them information on the layout of the Ice Court. He draws maps. He gives us the iconic “just girls?” moment. He saves Jesper’s life by pretending to be drunk. He helps them at the harbor when they’re ambushed before leaving, setting off a flash bomb. He helps get the tank. He voluntarily disguised himself as Kuwei to trick his father--also to, you know, see if his dad would actually kill him, but it was hard to do, knowing he might never get his real face back again.

Nobody notices that Wylan can’t read or write for the ENTIRE novel. There’s a moment where he doesn’t have his map labeled, but I only caught it on a reread, and his explanation that he doesn’t know Fjerdan is honestly convincing. Nobody thinks about how he has trouble reading signs or thinks too hard on why he doesn’t have his map labeled. Wylan gets through a whole ass novel without anyone noticing his inability to read. The book doesn’t have to go into long arguments about how not being able to read or write, or being otherwise unable to do things that others can or exactly the way they can, doesn’t make you stupid or helpless. Because Kaz shows us long before we get deep into his own thoughts regarding his disability. And Wylan showed us way before we even knew he had one.

Anyways, Six of Crows is a gift to humanity, bless Leigh Bardugo :)

[slowpoke-fics]

Lust

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Request Summary: something goes wrong and while the boys are on a hunt, a witch casts a spell on her so when they come back, sam is confused on how she’s acting and then realizes that there’s a lust curse on her. he has to get her through that while every touch is magnified.

Warnings: witch, hex? curse? voodoo?, smut, fingering, sam a little ooc, I know I missed some so as always read at your own risk.

A/N: I reread this a few times and I think I really like it, I hope you do too shawty cause I did change it up a bit. @sizekinkshawty I am so sorry for the long wait, I really thank you for being patient.

Your skin was on fire as Sam touched your shoulder, a gasp left your mouth at his touch, not missed by Sam who thinks about making you gasp like that under him. You also had the thought of being bent over the kitchen counter, gasping as he pushed into you, filling you with his-"Y/N? You with us?" You shook your head, nervously laughing, "Oh yeah, sorry, just in my thoughts. How was the hunt?" Dean and Sam slung their bags down, watching as you circled the counter to make your way to the refrigerator. "Pretty simple witch hunt, told you it'd be okay if you stayed here." You smiled at Sam, loving that he wouldn't take no for an answer when he knew you needed to rest after the vamp hunt last week.

"Good, I've got the chicken salad already made, Dean I'm starting burgers now, probably have time for a shower." Dean smiled at you, quickly running to you and grabbing both sides of your face, forcing your head to move as he needed to kiss your cheeks. You giggled a little bit, loving on your best friend by ruffling his hair before he turned to bee line to the shower. Sam had already pulled the salad from the fridge, taking his spot in front of you after pulling out two bowls, filling yours and his up. You admired the way he would always sit with you when you were doing something and he wasn't busy.

You took a good look at him. He was smiling as he scooped out the mixture of vegetables, eyes intently staring at the tongs, making sure not to drop any as he shakes the tongs to drop any loose pieces. Your attention is drawn to his hands as he shakes, his fingers loosely grasping the utensil, veins bulging on the back of his hands, tracing his arms, all the way up to his ruffled sleeve. The red and black flannel fabric strained around his large muscles, up until his shoulder, where the collar of his shirt settled out neatly. Your eyes traced down, his flannel unbuttoned twice, showing you a touch more skin than usual.

You wanted to touch him, unbutton his shirt to show are of his shiny skin, wanted to be lifted up- "Y/n, are you okay? You're spacing a bit." You smiled at him, your eyes back on his, realizing you had no idea what he'd said moments ago. "Oh, yeah, my minds just somewhere else." Sam rested his chin in the palm of his hand, smiling-or smirking-you aren't sure. "Where's it at then?" You blushed, turning back to the burgers, mumbling under your breath, "Somewhere intertwined with yours, I reckon," Sam wasn't sure he heard you correctly, and he didn't want to overstep, so he repeated what'd he'd originally said, "So, this witch had been heartbroken-" you listened to him as you flipped the burgers, still thinking about how big he would be inside of you, rubbing your legs together for some friction.

Sam studied you, watching as you bounced back and forth, not sure what was really going on and not liking being in the dark. "Y/n," his voice a lower monotone, sliding down to your core as if it was his tongue, you groaned at him, a blush rising to your face, "I'm listening, I swear." You heard Sam set something down, "Look at me." You don't know why, but you turned back around, something about that tone of voice calling to you just took control. "What is going on?" he spoke softly, and before you could open your mouth he added, "And do not lie to me." You sighed, "It's personal Sam," you gave a half smile, "it'll be okay." Sams facial features were leaking concern, and you hated that, but you just don't know if Sam feels the same way for you so they're no point in asking for some help when you're feeling this way.

"You tell me everything, I even know more than Dean, and that's saying something, you guys are attached at the hip." You laughed at him, "It's embarrass-" he interrupted you, "Don't care." You sighed, "I'm just really feeling it today ya know?" Sam looked at you puzzled, trying to put the pieces together. You laughed nervously, "I'm horny Sam." His eyes went wide and he stifled a laugh. "Oh!' another stifled giggle, "Uh- wanna talk about it?" A deep blush rose to your face, "I don't think so," you boldly winked at him turning your eyes back to the burgers and thoughts back to how good Sam would feel.

Sam was watching you, before hearing someone calling to him. "Sam?" He looked to you, who seemed unbothered by the noise. "Sam," a touch on his shoulder and he jumped out of his seat, you turned around quickly, Sam looking directly in front of him. "Sam? What's wrong?" You looked around, not seeing any red flags. Sam looked at you, "Yeah, it's all good, I just remembered there might be food in my room from before the hunt." An obvious lie, you thought, but you didn't push it.

Sam arrived in his room, staring at the witch he had met just days ago. "Listen, I told you to never be noticed again. This isn't exactly unnoticeable." The woman laughed, the pit in Sam's stomach grew. "Relax, I mean you no harm. I told you I wasn't affiliated with that woman, we just happened to practice in the same town." Sam was still on guard, "Get to the point." The witch beamed, "I cast a spell on you," Sams eyes widened, the witch spoke instantly, "I told you, relax! I cast a harmless 24 hour spell, it activates whenever you make psychical contact with your soulmate. Once activated, 24 hours later, all will be well and normal, and you'll know for sure. Your soulmate will only be affected by you, any other contact will be perfectly normal."

Sam was struck by an whirlwind of emotions, completely taken aback, not sure what to say. "How? How is that even possible?" The witched smiled, "Oh Winchester, I was not the only passive witch you didn't wrap up, I had lots of help." Sam looked at her for more answers, "Oh come on, please don't make me ruin the fun!!" Sam glared at her, "How do I know this is even true?" She sighed, starting to get annoyed, "It's kind of like voodoo, but calling to your souls," she touched Sam's cheek, "I could sense your pain hiding away from not having her, I just wanted you to know it's true. Blessed be to you Sam Winchester, you know where to find me if it doesn't end well." Like that she was gone. Sam thought for a minute on how to proceed, what was the answer here?

He walked back into the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on you. The hamburgers were sitting on the table, you were leaned back on the counter, eyes closed, head tilted back exposing your neck, Sam wondering the sounds it would elicit to kiss you there. His eyes trailed down, tracing your arm to your hand which was furiously moving against your clit, your hips rocking forward into your hand, "Sam," you whimpered. The whole world changed for him at that moment, his eyes filled with lust, heavy footsteps as he continued to watch your shaking form walking to you. His left hand came to the right side of your face, thumb tracing your cheek softly, your eyes fluttered open, "Sam."

He smiled, lips coming just an inch from yours, his other hand now tangled in your hair, "I'm here baby, I'm here." Your lips crashed into his, his grip in your hair tightened when you nibbled his bottom lip, you moaned at the pain, loving him being all over you. You started to pull your hand out of your shorts, but Sam jerked his hand from your face, holding your wrist in place, his right hand roughly jerking your head back. "I didn't say to stop, do you understand?" You gasped, "I'm sorry, sir." You kept rubbing your clit as Sam moved to your neck, peppering kisses and bites all over you, careful to not leave marks. "That's a good girl."

"Tell me what your thinking about," his hand sliding in the waistband of your shorts, grasping your ass and gently massaging it. "Thinking about your cock pounding me," your breath was heavy, you were so close, "thinking about how I'd do anything you want if you'd fuck me. Wanna be so full of you." Sam smiled, biting your lip, "I'm gonna touch you now, is that okay?"

"Please, Sam," with that he spun you around, your back against his chest, his hand sliding past yours as you continued to rub your clit. His fingers slid into you, stretching you as you moaned, "Oh god, Sam, harder." Sam's other hand came up around your throat, squeezing so you could barely breathe, "Oh, my pathetic little whore, haven't even had my cock yet and you're begging." You gasped for air, your core heating up as Sam moved his fingers deep inside of your, hard and fast, hitting the perfect spot of and over, "yours." Sam loosened his grip on your throat, allow you to speak, "your whore, just yours," Sam's grip tightened slightly, giving you more air than before, your free hand sliding up your torso to gently pull at your nipple, "please, I want to come Sir."

"You wanna come for me?" You moaned, hips jerking out of need, feeling his hard member through your shorts, pressing into your ass. "Better hurry little girl, don't want Dean to see what a wanton little slut you are." He forced your head to look at him, he pressed his lips back into yours as he slipped another finger in you, causing you to cry out, "come on baby," giving you a soft kiss, "I know you wanna be good, show me how good you are." With that, you come, legs shaking, unable to catch your breath as Sam gently lets go of your neck, his hand sliding down to your stomach holding you in place while he gently continued to finger you, letting you ride it out. After a minute of him peppering kisses on your neck, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to cry out. "Good girl," he locked eyes with you and he sucked your juices off his hands, "taste so good." You blushed, clearing your throat and starting to move quickly as you heard Dean coming down the hallway.

You quickly washed your hands before Sam, gutting plates out as Dean walked in and Sam washed his hands. You smiled brightly at him. "Glad you finally got off your ass and helped Y/n with dinner Sam," Dean picked as he sat down waiting for a plate. You laughed, "Stop nit picking, it was nice of him," you turned and winked at him, out of Dean's view. You and Sam sat down, not being able to take your eyes off of each other, and only half participating in Deans' conversation as you ate.

After you finished eating, you started to pick your plate up but Dean stopped you, "I got clean up, you made us dinner." You smiled, appreciating him you praised, "Thank you, I think it's time for me to head to bed anyway." You kissed Deans' cheek as he gladly stuck his cheek out to you, knowing your habits, then you turned to Sam doing the same but whispering just under Deans' earshot, "Find me when you want, I reckon we have things to discuss."

You trotted to your room, anxiety filling your body, but once in the safety of your room, you realized that Sam agreed that you're his. You started to get more confident, knowing how you'd felt about him for awhile now, you wondered if you were both too pussy and know you would be together and dare you say-in love?

Yes, you thought, I think so.

[gleamglowsgraveyard]

How about Sirius finding out the reader has a crush on him...and gives her her first kiss? 😘

cigarettes and firewhisky

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: amortentia is no fun to make when you’re partnered up with the person you know it’s going to end up smelling like.

content: fluff, me being bad at writing slughorn, very brief mention of sirius’s family issues, confessions in an empty classroom, kissing but nothing spicy (edit: rereading this i realized i made the reader pretty gender neutral! no pronouns or anything like that :)

you know i had to pull the amortentia trope. this was a cute request, thank you so much! also thank you to my anons who sent in what they thought sirius smelled like, you guys were a lot of help! (except the person who suggested that sirius smells like wet dog. you know who you are.)

This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Surely some higher power was laughing at you from above, taunting you and your dreadful luck.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. How on earth did you end up being paired up with Sirius Black of all people?! And - even worse - making the worst potion ever concocted?!

If you weren’t in public you’re sure you’d be letting out a crazed laugh out of pure mania.

So far you’ve been able to dodge all of his attempts at conversation, quickly sending him off to find another ingredient as soon as he got too chatty. You’d hardly made any eye contact at all, and any time he handed you something you were careful not to have his fingertips even slightly graze your own.

In truth, you’ve had an enormous crush on Sirius Black since third year, and it had only gotten worse as the years went by. This meant that by now, you had become a bit of an expert at avoiding him at all costs.

But now it was all ruined. Years of hard work spiraling down the drain all because of fucking Amortentia.

Why couldn’t it have been a simple calming draught? Or a shrinking solution? Hell, you would’ve even preferred to make Slughorn his lunch!

And it’s not as if you can sabotage the potion, either! That would mean Sirius’s grade suffering too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

There was no way out but to lie about what the potion smells of if he asks. Simple! That way no one finds out - more importantly, that way Sirius doesn’t find out - about your silly little crush. Foolproof. Genius. Inspired-!

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You jolt as panic overtakes you, snapping your head up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” he repeats, smiling slightly. “I can’t help but feel like you hate me, seeing as you haven’t looked at me or talked to me at all.”

Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad you had misinterpreted the question.

“No! I-” Your voice is much too high, you stop to clear your throat. “I do! I do like you, I um... Sorry! I promise I don’t hate you, I guess I’m just... shy.” You finish your blabbering by looking away, pretending to inspect the fire below your cauldron.

When you raise your gaze again Sirius is still looking at you - observing you as if you’re an interesting puzzle that he can’t quite figure out.

“Um!” you quickly turn your attention to the potion, hoping he does the same. “Nearly done, right? Here.” You hold out the wooden spoon for him to take. “Five more clockwise stirs.”

He looks at the spoon but then folds his hands behind his back. “You do it,” he offers instead.

You purse your lips but nod anyway, bringing the wood up to the cauldron’s opening. The pearlescent liquid shifts under the spoon as it touches the surface, and once it’s fully submerged you take a deep breath and start stirring.

One... Two... Three... Four...

As soon as you finish the fifth stir your nose is assaulted by a suffocating aroma of cigarettes and firewhisky. You quickly step back, coughing and tossing the spoon on the table, but the scent follows you.

That doesn’t smell very appealing! Had you done something wrong? You could have sworn you’d followed the recipe exactly!

But then suddenly the scent changes, rapidly becoming much more welcoming. Cigarettes and firewhisky quickly turns into the undertone to something different... Cinnamon shampoo? But also... cologne, and... You could also catch the faint whiff of a brand new leather jacket.

“I think...” you start, eyes trained on the potion that now has delicate tendrils of steam coming off its surface. “I think we did it.” You laugh a bit in astonishment, proud of the fact that you’d managed to make such an advanced potion.

When you turn your head Sirius is looking at you again, in that infuriating way with his gorgeous eyes and stupid grin. You desperately want to look away but just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“How can you tell?” he asks quietly, and you suddenly feel everything else in the room slip away until it’s just him in front of you.

“I... It-”

“What’s it smell like?”

His low voice puts you in such a trance that for a moment you think you’re about to tell him the truth, but you quickly remember what you’d decided on earlier. Lie.

“Ban-” Bananas? No! “Bal-” Balloons? What would that even mean?! “Bu... bblegum. Bubblegum.” You finally land on, and then give a minuscule wince.

Bubblegum?! Although, you suppose it’s better than balloons...

“Bubblegum?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yep! And is that...? Oh! Firewood!” you continue, pulling lies out of thin air. Sirius’s furrowed brows fade away, and an amused smile starts to form on his features instead.

“And, um... And sun cream! Huh, weird.”

“Bubblegum, firewood, and sun cream?” Sirius lists, as if needing clarification from you.

“Well, I-”

“And look what we have here!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice is suddenly feet away from the two of you, standing right beside your cauldron. “I do believe we have our first finished brew of Amortentia! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr. Black,” Slughorn beams, giving Sirius a knowing look.

Sirius just shuffles awkwardly.

If Slughorn notices Sirius’s discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he continues, “You know, your father was an exceptional potion maker. Very talented indeed, and you and your brother seem to be following in his footsteps! Although I must say, young Regulus has been a bit unfocused lately, he-”

“Uh, professor?” you speak up when Sirius flinches at his brother’s name.

Slughorn blinks and then looks at you as if he’s just noticed you were there. “Oh- Yes?”

“So... The potion? Did we do it right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Full marks!” He waves you off, as if you were being silly for even asking. “And ten points for each of you!” he adds for good measure before strolling off, most likely to go torment some other student with a famous surname.

After that, Sirius doesn’t much seem to be up for talking anymore. He focuses all his attention on cleaning up your station, closing up jars of rose petals and pearl dust. You follow his lead, albeit a bit sluggishly.

A few minutes ago you would’ve been okay with Sirius’s silence - happy, even, if it meant you didn’t have to deal with your little crush. But now you would give anything to have him cheerful and smiling again - even if he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes.

Once class is over you’re quick to duck out of the room, desperately wanting to leave Slughorn and Amortentia and the smell of cigarettes and firewhisky behind you.

It’s all over now, everything went according to plan and you can finally go back to doing what you do best. Secretly pining after Sirius Black from a distance.

It’s safe. It’s what you’re good at.

You’re just about ready to forget about this day entirely when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

...Maybe you were hearing things.

You speed up your steps but then he calls your name again and you’re forced to slow down, waiting for him to catch up. When he does he gives you another winning smile and your heart does a flip.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, and you listen intently. “Sorry about uh... Just... Thanks.”

You’re a bit taken aback. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a ‘thank you’.

“I... For what?” you ask, genuinely perplexed, but trying not to sound rude.

“Getting Slughorn to leave,” he clarifies with a grin. “He’s always been the same... I’ve been dealing with that for seven years now.”

There’s laughter in his voice but you can tell it’s a bit frayed at the edges. He’s clearly trying - and failing - to play it off as no big deal.

“Sorry,” you offer lamely. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

It really doesn’t.

You don’t know much about Sirius’s family, but you know enough to understand that he probably doesn’t like to be constantly reminded of them. Sharing their last name and seeing his brother in the halls was probably more than enough.

“It’s fine. And, I didn’t just want to thank you,” he says quickly, realizing that the conversation had gotten gloomy.

“Oh?” you voice with a bit of a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask what it smelled like. The Amortentia.”

There goes your heart again. A million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?” you ask, laughing a bit. “I told you. Bubblegum and um...”

Shoot! What were the other two?!

“Firewood and sun cream?” Sirius prompts, and you nod frantically.

“Yep! That was it!” you’re quick to blurt out. Unconsciously, you pick up your pace, now traveling at a slight speed walk.

Sirius keeps up easily. “But you’re lying,” he accuses, pointing a finger at you, and you swear you start to sweat. “You started coughing when you finished stirring. What did you smell then?”

“I-! Well-! The bubblegum was very pungent, and I-”

“And it looked to me like you were just naming anything that came to your head. Were you about to say balloons at one point?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this, and quite frankly I- woah!”

You suddenly find that you’re being pulled somewhere by the elbow, and only when you hear a door close behind you do you realize that Sirius has dragged you into an empty classroom. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings, because Sirius is asking you again:

“So what did you smell?”

You consider lying again, but he’s staring at you with his big, pretty eyes, just waiting for you to tell the truth and all of a sudden you really, really want to.

You thought - you really thought - that you would be content to just go back to crushing on him from a safe distance, but then the Amortentia had happened and he had looked at you different. He was looking at you differently even now - eyes glittering, listening attentively for your answer. And suddenly pining from a distance doesn’t seem so appealing.

You groan in frustration, bringing both of your hands up to cover your face. You just can’t believe what this boy is doing to you.

“It’s so stupid,” you admit, feeling your cheeks head up beneath your palms.

“It’s not,” he assures you, gently wrapping both his hands around each of your wrists, silently asking you to stop covering your face.

You shake you head. “It is, and if you’re asking then you already know.”

“So humor me.”

You abruptly drop your hands to look up at him and, woah - had he always been that close? He’d definitely gotten a bit closer since you’d closed your eyes.

You let out a shaky breath. “Cigarette smoke... Firewhisky...” you trail off. You mean to keep going, but decide to wait for Sirius’s initial reaction first.

Sirius blinks. “Gross,” he says after a beat, and it startles a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, a bit. I thought we messed it up, but then... Um, it changed.”

You search his features for any signs of discomfort, but find none. In fact, Sirius seems to be basking in every word you tell him.

So you keep going, very quietly, “Cologne and...” Without thinking you bring a hand up to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Leather and... Cinnamon...”

You hand moves of it’s own volition, resting on the junction of Sirius’s shoulder and neck and you stare dazedly at it for a moment. You blink and then realize what you’re doing.

You pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned. “Sorry, I-”

But then Sirius is leaning forward fast and - Merlin, was he about to kiss you?!

You panic for a moment, knowing you have to think quick. Your hand darts up again, this time landing on his collarbone, putting your palm flat up against him and pressing firmly, willing him to stop.

He gets the message and quickly pulls back. “I’m sorry-”

“No!” you blurt out so fast that it sounds more like a squeak. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t... I mean I want to, I do I just...” You screw your eyes shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Fuck,” Sirius lets out a laugh.

Your heart sinks as you open your eyes. Was he laughing at you?

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quick, as if reading your mind. “For a second I thought the Amortentia was a big coincidence and you didn’t like me at all.” he smiles, and you realize his laugh was a laugh of relief.

“No! I-!” You groan again and lean against the closed door. Was it confession day or something?! “No, I’ve... I’ve liked you since third year.”

“What about first and second?” he fires back quick, grinning stupidly.

You don’t miss a beat. “I was scared of you, then. You were too loud.”

He barks out a laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to look away, feeling as if you’re intruding. And then you remember you’re not. It’s just you and Sirius here. So many times you’d seen that laugh from a distance, across a crowded Great Hall but now it was just for you.

Sirius speaks up once his laughter dies down. “Look, you don’t have to-”

“No, I want to-”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“You haven’t! I just-”

“We can just go to class-”

“Sirius!” you say sharply, and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Kiss me. Please,” you say with a laugh, wanting him to shut up already.

He grins and then wastes no time in leaning forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You smell it again - cinnamon shampoo, cologne, new leather, and - very faintly - cigarettes and firewhisky.

You melt into the kiss, bringing you hands up to rest at the nape of his neck, idly playing with the strands of hair you find. It’s awkward at first, but you try your best to relax into it, following Sirius’s lead and just doing whatever comes naturally.

He pulls away and you slowly blink your eyes back open, willing yourself out of the trance Sirius’s lips had just put you in.

“Fast learner,” he whispers, smiling, and you laugh.

“We should get to class...” you suggest halfheartedly, not stepping away or making any move to leave.

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Probably...”

You both look at each other for a few beats, but then you each break into a smile.

And he kisses you again.

.

.

.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[magicianpanache]

Reading Midnight Sun: Chapter 13

And onto chapter 13. Edward sneaks into Bella’s room at night, as usual, but this time he doesn't feel guilty, because it’s good training for him. Seems legit. He spies on her while she has sex dreams dreams with his name.

Edward spends the next day asking Bella inane questions.

He’s mystified by how Bella could like Debussy and Linkin Park.

I’m mystified by the fact Bella likes Mounty Python. She doesn’t seem… edgy enough ? She seems like the kind of person who takes works of art, like Romeo and Juliet, at face value.  But hey, maybe I would know why if Edward followed up on any of his questions.

One thing I notice is that all of Bella’s answers seem very… basic. Like the kind of thing you would find on a list of 10 movies all millennials like on buzzfeed, or a compilation of music to listen to when it rains. It feels like SM trying to get us to think Bella is well read, but it doesn’t work that well since she’s mostly listing books, not showing us she actually understood them (hint, hint: she doesn't).

Eventually, Bella lists a book Edward hasn’t read, and Edward is surprised, though he keeps it for himself.

Edward strokes his ego counter: 10

Follows with

I could see elements of the stories in her makeup— characters that had shaped the context of her world. There was a bit of Jane Eyre in her, a portion of Scout Finch and Jo March, a measure of Elinor Dashwood, and Lucy Pevensie. I was sure I would find more connections as I learned more about her.

The Jane Eyre comparaison I can somewhat see. Scout Finch, though ? Lucy Pevensie ? Edward’s reaching. Also, interesting how Edward only lists girls, not boys, because God forbid Bella is similar to a man.

I laughed when Bella dropped the Phantom of the Opera.

Things almost get deep when Bella talks about Arizona, but she sticks to the facts, not really putting her own personal touch. Edward asks for a lot of factual details, but not for her own opinion, if that makes sense ?

Edward then goes back home and speaks with Esme who says she’s happy for him and wishes he would be happy.

Conclusion

Edward has no idea what makes a person a person. He wants to get to know the girl he likes, which is fair enough, but he does it by asking her random, superficial questions, as if analyzing her subconscious, but never does any follow up to know why. Why not ask her about her values ? The most important person in her life ? Why does she like to reread books ? 

Also, Edward just glosses over the fact Bella likes Mounty Python and the Holy Grail. That vulgar movie does not fit Bella’s aesthetic.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - October 6th

This is the night of the attack at Weathertop, when Frodo is stabbed with the Morgul-blade.

In the morning they found, for the first time since they had left the Chetwood, a track plain to see. They turned right and followed it southwards. It ran cunningly, taking a line that seemed chosen so as to keep as much hidden as possible from the view, both of the hill-tops above and of the flats to the west. It dived into dells, and hugged steep banks; and where it passed over flatter and more open ground on either side of it there were lines of large bolders or hewn stones that screened the travellers almost like a hedge.

Aragorn tells the hobbits that the path was made by the men of Arnor to access their forts along the walls when they were fighting Angmar, but that long before they had a great watch tower called Amon Sûl on the summit of Weathertop, and there Elendil watched for the coming of Gil-Galad in the days of the Last Alliance. Sam sings a portion of the song of Gil-galad that Bilbo translated.

It was already mid-day when they drew near the southern end of the path, and saw before them, in the pale clear light of the October sun, a gre-green bank, leading up like a bridge on to the northward slope of the hill. They decided to make for the top at once, while the daylight was broad. Concealment was no longer possible, and they could only hope that no enemy or spy was observing them. Nobody was to be seen moving on the hill. If Gandalf was anywhere about, there was no sign of him. On the western flank of Weathertop they found a sheltered hollow, at the bottom of which there was a bowl-shaped dell with grassy sides. There they left Sam and Pippin with the pony and their packs and luggage.

On the top of Westhertop they find the sign Gandalf left three days ago, and Aragorn interprets it. The rocks and grass are all scorched with fire from Gandalf’s fight with the Ringwraiths. Aragorn says he expects it will be at least 14 days from here to the Ford of Bruinen. The fact that they still manage to make that time even after Frodo is severely wounded - they reach the Ford of the 20th - is impressive on the part of them all. Frodo sees black specks on the road, two coming from the east and three from the west; Aragorn agrees that these are Black Riders, and they conceal themselves and go back dien the hill. Sam and Pippin find a Ranger camp, but there are also footprint of other boots from a day or two ago. Aragorn agrees with Sam that he dies not like the dell they are in, but there is no time to find anywhere better before nightfall. They make a fire as a defence, and at night Aragorn tells them old tales, including the Tale of Tinúviel. I wonder if, in Aragorn saying that the ending of that tale is not known, Tolkien is poking fun at his unfinished manuscript of the poetic Leithian.

Shortly after Aragorn finishes the story, the moon rises, and they see and sense the Ringwraiths outside the dell. The Ringwraiths approach, and Frodo under their influence puts on the Ring; what he sees of the Ringwraiths is matched by the movie depiction very closely. Frodo is stabbed by the Witch-king. Aragorn orders them to put Frodo by the fire, then disappears for some time, reawakening Sam’s suspicions; when he returns, Sam draws his sword and stands over Frodo. Aragorn has been trying, without success, to find out why the Ringwraiths have left rather than attacking again; he is very concerned by Frodo’s account, and then takes Sam aside and tells him he concludes that Frodo’s wound is intended to place him under the Ringwraiths’ control. Aragorn goes off to find athelas, which is uncommon and little-known in the North.

Frodo feels pain from the Morgul-wound on the same day in the two following years. One year later, he and the other hobbits and Gandalf have just left Rivendell the previous and are crossing the Ford of Bruinen:

When they came to the Ford of Bruinen, he halted, and seemed loth to ride into the stream; and they noted that for a while his eyes appeared not to see them or things about them.

“Are you in pain, Frodo?” said Gandalf quietly as he rode by Frodo’s side.

“Well, yes, I am,” said Frodo. “It is my shoulder. The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me. It was a year ago today.”

“Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,” said Gandalf.

“I fear it may be so with mine,” said Frodo. “There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?”

Gandalf did not answer.

Then, a year later, in Bag End:

One evening Sam came into the study and found his master looking very strange. He was very pale and his eyes seemed to see things far away.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Frodo?” said Sam.

“I am wounded,” he answered, “wounded; it will never really heal.”

But then he got up, and the turn seemed to pass, and he was quite himself the next day. It was not until afterwards that Sam recalled that the date was October the sixth. Two years before on that day it was dark in the dell under Weathertop.

This is also the day that the story ends, the day that Sam returns to Bag End from the Havens.

The three companions…spoke no word to each other until they came back to the Shire, but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road. At last they rode over the downs and took the East Road, and then Merry and Pippin rode on to Buckland; and already they were singing as they went.

I only just noticed this on this reread; and I find it particularly moving. Merry and Pippin do not feel any special need of silence themselves; soon after they part from Sam they are singing. But they recognize, without anything needing to be said, that Sam needs silence in companionship; and they give him that, though the whole of a week-long journey together (Frodo departed from the Havens on Sept 29th), and it is a great comfort to them all. (And for someone like Pippin, who is not particularly noted for his tact, it also shows how he’s grown over the course of the story.)

But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap.

He drew a deep breath. “Well I’m back,” he said.

The final thing that I think we’re supposed to draw from this ending being on Oct 6th, the anniversary of Weathertop, is to conclude that by this time Frodo has reached Eressëa, and this year will no longer be pained by his old wounds.