#and a possessive hug seems fitting for creativity

[niceness-before-knives]

Another thought! The skeleton scars are my favorite cosmetics in the game, so must use them. But I’m kinda liking the idea of them still being a scar but in the shape of someone hugging Knives from behind instead of an overlay of anatomy.

Idk, I can just see it being a ‘gift’ from Creativity. Either as the thing that broke the camel’s back and caused Knives to break up, or being a spiteful last goodbye from Creativity after the break-up. Because I do like them as scars! o: And scars caused by a spirit seem like an interesting notion?? Idk tho.

[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser — Stench

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 9k TYPE: Angst, Childhood friends, Making up, occasionally funny WARNING(S): Poverty, implied/referenced child abuse, house break-in, spoilers for Kaiser's backstory, if I missed something lmk NOTE(S): This is a two shot but I'm posting it here combined for my own convenience. The numerals show how the chapters are separated and indicates a long time skip.

I.

Someone’s coming closer and closer. It’s hard to catch Kaiser off guard — he’s sensitive to the slightest of sounds, so he can hear them approaching from behind without trouble, these sloppy footsteps slapping against the cement as if the owner is wearing really shitty shoes. He freezes with the ball still in his hands, doesn’t dare look back and check who it is, an irrational part of his brain suspecting it to be his father.

It takes a while for whoever it is to cross the distance, and then an unfamiliar voice rings, “Hey.”

Kaiser glances over his shoulder finally. You stand there, peering down at him while he’s sitting, cigarette spreading fumes in the air even though you don’t look any older than him. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge you, though, just stares, tense and confused about your intentions.

You crouch down so you are at eye level with him. The bad smell follows, wafting by his nose and he holds down a cough on the off chance any noise might set you off and make you violent. You pull it out of your mouth and flick it away from him, apparently possessing enough decorum to stop blowing smoke in his face. “Why are you always doing that?”

“Huh?”

Kaiser knows what you mean, but he can’t help asking. After all he’d noticed you before all those times just like you’d noticed him. Every day you hang around the solitary playground at a distance while he messes around with the ball, though he never expected you’d speak to him. If anything you never pay much mind to each other.

You usually leave like you’re on some kind of schedule, but you’re up close to him now and he can see you’re in a similar condition to him — bruises and dirt littering your skin, tattered and ill-fitting clothes barely hanging onto your frame. The offenders behind your loud entrance he identifies as the torn pink fuzzy slippers he always sees you wearing, smeared with faded mud. Certainly not the most reliable footwear, but you’re in a better boat than he is on that front, what with him not wearing any shoes at all. Not his fault he outgrew his last pair, although naturally his father found a way to blame him. He’s creative like that.

“You’re always kicking the ball and punching the shit outta it.”

Embarrassed by the reasoning behind his behavior maybe, Kaiser averts his eyes. He hopes not responding will dissuade you from interacting with him.

It doesn’t work. “What’s your name?”

“… Michael.”

“So basic, but fine. I’ll call you Micha, ok?”

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

You offer your name in return. After taking another drag, you smile and ask, “How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” he says, figuring this is unimportant enough information that he can offer it without consequences until you grow bored and go away.

You grin at him and squint your eyes. The expression makes you seem smug for no discernible reason. “I’m fourteen, so I’m your senior. You can call me boss if you want. Got it, small fry?”

What an annoying attitude. He places the ball over his stomach and adjusts his position so he’s hugging his knees, this surly expression on his face. “It’s not even that big of a difference…”

“You sound so pensive when you talk. Hey, why do you kick the ball even though you don’t have shoes? Doesn’t it hurt?”

What else is someone supposed to do with a piece of trash except hurt it? Expressing such a sentiment out loud seems shameful, though. “Why are you smoking even when it’s bad for you and stupid and tacky? Why are you asking dumb questions even though you’re not getting anything out of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Woah, relax. Touchy.” When he doesn’t respond and instead continues scrutinizing you with scorn (which at this point you deem undeserved), you say, “I stole ‘em off someone. What’s stopping you from stealing a pair of shoes?”

“They’re too big to steal. It’s impractical.”

“You think small, but fair enough,” you say, before standing up, still grinning. Then you wave. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Micha.”

“Who said I want to see you?”

You laugh again as if his rejection is funny, but trudge on away from him. “C’mon, lighten up.”

Kaiser scoffs, pressing his cheek against the ball, tightening his hold against it. There is nothing to lighten up about.

___

Kaiser hasn’t taken any particular liking towards you, but you do hang out together every day since you approached him. He’s not sure why he tolerates your presence. Maybe because you’re resourceful — stealing is so much easier when you two coordinate. Or maybe it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t seem to want to strike him down and strangle him.

Currently you’re at the playground again. The lighter you use has some ugly, childish print on it. Kaiser is trying to inflate his ball with the air pump you swiped together from a shop in town earlier after you made fun of how ‘sad and flat’ it was and came up with the idea. When he hears the flicker and then registers the smell, Kaiser asks, “How many do you smoke a day?”

“One is to be stylish. Two is if I didn’t appreciate the first one enough. Three is if I still don’t feel like shitting.”

Kaiser frowns in disapproval at the moronic remark. Funny in an ironic sort of way how this lifestyle has you sounding like a ridiculous, fake adult — neither child nor mature, but something else entirely. A different category of human. He wonders if you think the same about him. “You fucking smell. How many are there in a pack?”

“Twenty,” you say after uselessly flipping over the lid, even though for one it’s not full and you already know the answer anyway, so it’s not necessary to check.

“So if you smoke three a day then you have to… steal one every two weeks?”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at this assessment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like once or twice a week depending.” Then you do some weird counting on your fingers for a while. “But even if it was exactly three a week, that’s like six point six or some shit like that. Dummy.”

“Shut up, shithead,” says Kaiser, embarrassed.

“Ok.”

“Leave me alone. I didn’t think about it too much.”

“I’m not even saying anything.” A moment of silence passes until an enlightened remark comes to mind. “Hey, Micha.”

“What?”

You scoot a little closer to him. Kaiser gets nervous at first and freezes, but calms down when it seems you’re not inching your hands towards him. Though the relief is short-lived because then you take an exaggerated sniff of the air and grin. “You stink too.”

He glares at you.

The ball ends up fine. Sure, it’s still beat up and dirty as most things around him, but at least it’s functional enough to kick again, and that’s what’s important.

___

“What now,” says Kaiser with an attitude of being greatly inconvenienced before plopping down next to you on the sidewalk.

You continue counting, trying to keep track of how much money you have on you. A series of gross, dry coughs escapes your mouth. When the fit near passes, you spit on the ground as if to ease your throat, hitting your chest for good measure. Kaiser watches the display with an impassive look on his face. Eventually you turn towards him and ask, “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve been quiet, not talking to me.”

“I’m gonna go get a haircut so I’m trying to see if I have enough,” you say, figuring he’s wondering about what you’re doing in a roundabout way.

Kaiser rams his head into his knees and makes some kind of noise which you can’t categorize between acknowledgement and disapproval.

You say, “Those children from the schoolyard were telling me having a bad haircut is ‘social suicide.’ Like ‘getting stabbed’ everyday. Apparently it’s the bowlcut that’s really shameful.”

“Other people have such stupid problems,” he says, irked, resentful. “I just cut it with scissors at home.”

“Yeah, man, I can tell. They wash your hair at the hairdresser though, so I wanna go now.”

“You really hang out with them? What do you even talk about?”

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette and then the hideous lighter. The smoke will waft by his nose again and irritate him. It’s unpleasant. The smell he associates with you is unpleasant, but it’s also yours so it’s kind of conflicting. “Recently I’ve been telling them I’m a ghost from the forest.”

Kaiser remains unamused the way you’ve always known him, but after some contemplation graces you with a snort, which makes you smile in return. He asks, “They don’t believe that. Right?”

“Maybe. They’ve got a what-do-you-call-it… You like football, don’t you?”

“A pitch.” He rolls his eyes as if forgetting the word is some kind of crime. Back he goes to frowning.

“Yea, they have that. You should sneak in with me sometime.” You shrug again as if the suggestion isn’t a big deal. “It’s fun.”

His nose scrunches at the thought, forehead wrinkling. It pisses him off just imagining it — truly a sickening concept. Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Mingling with children who have nice things and an education and clean clothes and probably eat proper meals every night with their families. He doesn’t want to exchange pleasantries with people who can afford to concern themselves with social suicide. Stomach twisted in knots, Kaiser almost hurls, but somehow swallows the bile back down.

“Never,” he denies with finality.

“So dramatic, Micha.”

“Like you’re any better. You don’t care about anything. At all.”

At the sound of his tone getting more sulky than usual, you decide to spare him another glance. “Aww, are you tearing up?”

“No,” Kaiser lies, lips wavering. Unable to hold it in yet desperate to hide, he settles for covering his face with his hands, folding over himself. “I just fucking… hate this place. And I want out so… so bad.” Aside from the muffled sobs, there are also voice cracks littering his admission.

The thing is: you don’t really know what to do to make it all better.

___

Kaiser feels like he’s about to get a cramp from keeping his leg in this position for so long, lifted up and extended. Recently he stole a pair of sneakers from the thrift store, but the soles ended up falling off. Now you’re lathering everything in glue and wrapping it in tape in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I’m not sure this is how it works,” he says. It’s kind of meek — a pathetic mumble — but you can recognize unwarranted criticism when you hear it.

“Take it or leave it.” You snap off the tape and move onto the next shoe.

When a snarky or otherwise offensive response doesn’t immediately come to mind, Kaiser resigns to silence. He continues observing you while you squeeze out copious amounts of glue. For a moment the only noises between you are those of your sniffles, the obnoxious huffing in of snot.

A few raindrops pour down, pelting your heads at the same time. You hiss when you realize your hard work is about to go to waste while all Kaiser provides in terms of reaction is a blink and a downwards twist of his lips.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you say, sounding distant, which he doesn’t hear from you much — usually there’s a lilt of amusement in your tone, some kind of playfulness lingering in all your words.

“I don’t either. It’s pointless anyway because you’ll get drenched by the time you go home and then there’s nothing to dry yourself with properly and it’s all one huge pain in the ass.”

“Right.” After signaling your agreement with his assessment, you shrug off your hoodie and stretch, trying to drape it enough so that it shields the two of you from the rain. Kaiser accommodates your goodwill by adjusting his position, scooting over next to you and cramming so he’s taking as little space as possible. It’s not an adequate cover by any means and you can tell his shoes will break apart again. But Kaiser is hugging you around the waist, resting his cheek against your neck, and you don’t have to deal with being at your place yet, so it can’t be all that bad.

___

“You look like a pufferfish,” you say unhelpfully.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you in that way he tends to do which you haven’t seen anyone else replicate exactly. It’s kind of amusing when he does that, especially when one of them is irritated and droopy. “And you look like a spoiled apple.”

“Don’t mind. It’s a lot of bad things happening to me in that house.”

“I know,” says Kaiser.

You rub your cheek and then some more under your eye where the spots are the brightest. It makes him wince because your hands must be dirty, what with everything you two get up to in a day. Since Kaiser’s father strangles him, he’s always swollen and not so much bruised, but he thinks your parents must only leave it at punches while making up for it with enthusiasm. “I kinda like touching them when some time passes.”

“You’re sick.”

“Honestly I was, but it went away. I think I might have an ingrown toenail though.”

“No… I mean in the head.” To emphasize his point, Kaiser reaches out to probe your temple with his index finger. There’s another scratch blooming there, only coming to attention once his focus lands there, but it’s a waste of energy fixating on any of the small ones — he just can’t help but notice sometimes. “By the way, I don’t need to know what kind of toenail you have.”

You laugh, apparently finding his remark funny somehow. Then you reel your hand back before bringing it back down quickly as if you’re about to slap him. Still retaining his common sense, Kaiser flinches and tries to defend himself with his forearm. The reflex is foreign since he usually takes it lying down without moving an inch when it’s his dad.

His reaction makes you laugh harder for some reason, and you don’t smack him at all. Kaiser glares at you for your unfunny prank but you disregard it. Your hands settle around his throat instead, lightly tracing over the purple fingerprints, still fresh from last night. Almost immediately he clenches his teeth, tightlipped, breaking out into a sweat, expecting a harsh squeeze which never comes.

Kaiser wants to scold you for your idiotic behavior, yet he doesn’t. Maybe your hands aren’t for harm, he decides. And then he reaches out too, pressing his knuckle against the darkest contusion on your face. Your eye twitches closed. It turns into a strange fascination then, your skin touching his and his touching yours in places others had hurt. A ritualistic erasement.

___

You’re splitting the money again after selling off another valuable. It was some kind of fancy watch you two stole this time, more ballsy than usual. Once you pocket your share, you ask, “Are you saving up?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna move? Where?”

Kaiser shrugs. “I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”

You hum and walk ahead of him, probably looking for one of the drinking fountains in the area.

Either compelled by unusual curiosity or bothered by your silence, he says, “You wanna make it the fuck out of here too. Where would you go?”

“To the beach.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes behind your back, finding your answer stupid. Sure, the beach is an exotic idea considering he has never been to one, but all he can imagine is the sand sticking to his skin and the gross seaweed he’s seen in commercials inside stores and such. But on second thought both of these things are probably way less gross than the environment he spends every day in. He lets out a performative huff anyway and says ‘huh’ as if to demand an elaboration.

“I wanna be free like one of those seagulls that fly over the sea. D’you wanna be a seagull with me, Micha?”

“No. That’s dumb,” he says. You ignore him. Kaiser steels his nerves for a second and, after a dry swallow, takes a step so that he’s walking next to you rather than lagging behind. Then he brushes his fingers against yours lightly before making a sweaty, half hearted attempt at holding your hand. His cheeks are warm in a way he hasn’t felt them before. “Take me to your shitty beach someday.”

You make a more competent attempt at hand holding, grasping his fingers in yours until they’re interlacing, and then you swing your arms up and down. Kaiser has enough sense to be embarrassed by this, but doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t know why, but this is the kind of contact he feels the need to savor. “So you do want to be a seagull.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re such a sourpuss, Micha, never playing along with anything.”

“It’s not my fault you make it sound dumb- Well, do you think it’s any use? Hoping for something like that…”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” he says. “I just don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Come on. We’re gonna get out of here together someday. That’s gotta work.” You lift his arm in the air next and try to make him spin like a dancer. Though Kaiser is used to standing still and limp and letting things happen to him, the attempt doesn’t come out successful. At most he does a slight twist.

“Yeah. Together,” he agrees, like a promise. He imagines messing around with you in the sand with the sun warming his skin in contrast to the perpetual chill he’s become used to. Honestly despite belittling the idea earlier, it doesn’t seem so bad in his mind.

___

Kaiser yawns while sitting next to you on a bench, eating a burger. Since you’re famous for your generosity and kindness and all (not), you decided to ‘splurge out’ by buying food for you both from some shitty hole in the wall. It’s the most filling meal you’ve had in a while. You’re still chewing when you ask, “Are you tired or something?”

He rubs his eyes. “My father was fucking making noises throwing up all night.”

“Ah, your worthless sperm donor.” You nod sagely in acknowledgement.

“Yea, him. It reeked too and when I went to clean it, there were whole chunks in his vomit.”

You scoff. “Don’t clean after him.”

“Not like anyone’s going to clean it if I don’t.” Two more yawns accentuate his sentence. You reach out to throw away the container. For a second you consider keeping the plastic cutlery and maybe washing it at the drinking fountain later, but that seems too desperate even for you. Kaiser says, “I’d take a nap right now if I could, but I don’t want to go back yet.”

“It’s sunny today for the first time in a while. Would be a waste.” You watch Kaiser while he wipes his mouth and his fingers with the napkin. The dark circles around his eyes are worse than usual. “You can lie down on me and sleep if you want.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yea, it’ll probably be really boring, but I’ll tolerate it,” you allow, ever so charitable.

Kaiser frowns, contemplating. He’s silent for so long, you forget you even suggested anything, but he eventually shifts around and rests his head on your lap, tense. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Don’t smoke,” he warns, but it’s kind of difficult to act butthurt when you’re being so… gentle with him.

“I won’t.”

“Seriously, don’t smoke right now.”

“I said ok already.”

Now that the matter is settled, he decides to trust you and flutters his eyes closed. Though your thighs and the bench aren’t the most comfortable places in the world, to Kaiser who only knows the cold hard floor, such an opportunity is borderline luxurious. The tang of the cigarettes clings even to the fabric of your pants, to your fingers — his favorite smell. You continue stroking his scalp and he dozes off with ease within minutes. Even though he’s snoring already, he moves to wrap his arms around your knee as if he feels a compulsive need to hold onto something in his sleep.

Kaiser looks surprisingly peaceful and precious right now. You hope he’s having a nice dream if any. A long stretch of ennui is ahead of you.

___

The antics have been ramping up as of late. In your defense, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to resist urging Kaiser to break in with you when you noticed the house with the open first floor window, clearly vacant. Though at first he displayed kleptomaniacal tendencies and wanted to rummage through the drawers for anything expensive, you deemed it too risky since you had no idea when the owner would come back. And then you told him you were merely interested in taking a proper shower.

Now you’re almost dry, waiting for Kaiser to finish. You can’t remember the last time you were so free of grime. Wearing the old clothes again almost feels shameful, like a step back. You sniff your armpit like a weirdo and realize your skin smells good .

Kaiser takes a while to come out and emerges looking like he underwent some kind of magical girl transformation. He’s trying to soak up the water from his hair with a towel, sending specks flying everywhere and dripping down his shirt when you blurt out, “You’re handsome.”

In a fashion you’d consider comedic, he stops dead in his tracks to gape at you with flushed cheeks. “What?”

“Your face is pretty.” He blinks. A crease appears on his forehead in apparent disapproval, though you’re not sure what he’s mad about (it’s a compliment!), especially when he’s still blushing. You make a vague hand gesture near your head to clarify your next point, “Try untangling it with your fingers.”

It takes Kaiser a good few seconds to get with the program before he twitches to attempt and follow your advice, but you both freeze when you detect the unmistakable sound of a door closing and locking downstairs. You push him back into the bathroom and close it behind yourself as gently as possible. Then you drag him back to the tub and gesticulate incomprehensibly some more to signal you should both get in and hide before sliding in behind the curtain and reclining on your side. Kaiser follows after you, but you think you might be doomed. It’s still wet, too, which is unpleasant, but not a priority considering the upcoming disaster.

Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, so you clamp it shut with your palm before putting your index finger over your lips. He embraces you, and he’s trembling, and then he hides in your neck as if you’re going to save him from whatever is about to come.

Like you’d assumed, the house owner enters almost immediately. You’re nauseous, stomach clenching. Kaiser is making a stunning impression of a corpse the way he’s not even breathing anymore in his attempt at being quiet. Your muscles are so tense on alert that it hurts and each passing second puts you more on edge.

Thankfully the flush comes and then the running water and then the person leaves with a click. Their footsteps get fainter and fainter until another door opens and closes. You stand and step out, trying not to make a noise still. Before going out into the hallway you throw a glance over your shoulder just to make sure Kaiser is still walking behind you, which he is.

Your movements are slow and light. The escape, especially while making your way down the stairs, is drawn out and excruciating. You hop out through the window you came in from. There you are outside, somehow without incident.

You turn to look at Kaiser again once you hear the rustle of the grass accompanying his jump. With the adrenaline still kicking, you break out into a sprint, eager to get far away. Kaiser catches up to you and you burst out laughing but you’re not even sure why, since you don’t find any of what transpired particularly amusing. A slight smile appears on his face when he recognizes the sound.

___

The next day you notice Kaiser isn’t at the playground, even though he always gets there before you do. No biggie — you can exert some patience.

After a while you start tapping your foot. It’s not like you have a watch to check what the time is or how long it’s been or a phone to ask him where he’s at. So you settle on putting on a show of irritability.

Nothing. Your legs hurt so you go sit down on the swing. You’re getting pretty old for the playground anyway, you think as you pull out a cigarette and light it, eyes darting around. Parents and their children, but no sign of Micha.

You exceed your usual three and end up burning half the pack in your attempt to occupy yourself during your waiting. It relaxes you usually, smoking, when you have a lot of shit juggling around your brain, but it doesn’t work this time.

Did something happen?

… Did his dad finally kill him?

___

Kaiser doesn’t show up at the playground ever again no matter how many times you go.

___

It’s another day where you need to shield your eyes from the sunlight with your hand. You’ve been seeing more of those since you ran away. Must be allegorical or some shit.

From your peripheral vision, while you walk down the street, you pass by a store that has one of those TVs on display, playing a sports game. You spare a moment to look, intrigued, nostalgic in a way — it reminds you of when you were little, when that kind of thing was more common.

They’re playing football, you realize, and you find that evocative too. Some guy scores a goal and they zoom in on him even though he’s not celebrating, instead choosing to stand there like a statue with his arms crossed. Like he’s too cool to get excited, which strikes you as obnoxious.

Then they show his face in full, up front.

You know that face. You’d recognize that face anywhere.

The back of his jersey reads ‘Kaiser’ and yet you never knew him as anything besides his first name.

At first you’re relieved considering you were under the impression catastrophe must’ve befallen him, but the solace doesn’t last long. When the realization hits, your eyes widen and your lips fall into a thin line. It's similar to a punch in the gut how all the air seems to vacate your chest. All this wind around you and you can’t get any.

The only person you ever loved left you behind without a second glance in your direction.

___

II.

Michael Kaiser is mildly inconvenienced. Billions injured on the scene and millions more will die.

So maybe he’s been ranting at someone who he didn’t even glance at, eyes closed, mind way too lost in his reverie. A part of his brain doesn’t even comprehend he’s in fact speaking to a person instead of a cardboard cutout. It’s to his complete shock and bafflement when after so much babbling he receives a reply. “Hey, Mr. Kaiser was it? Shut the fuck up.”

He flutters his eyes open to give the ingrate a glare and speak his mind some more, but he freezes on the spot at the sight in front of him. His blood runs cold, heart stuttering in his chest.

He’d know that face anywhere, even if right now it’s more unamused and neutral — nothing like the expressions in his memories. He’s not sure why his body is reacting like this either, tensing up with a nervous jitter in his system.

Wasn’t he supposed to have left all that stuff in the past? Yet a single look at you is enough to cause this response: this uncertainty, like he’s still a little boy who veers towards hopeless and incompetent, and fuck, why are you giving him such a dead stare?

Do you not recognize him?

Do you not love him anymore?

It’s a rash thing to focus on as his immediate concern especially when he hasn’t been killing himself with worry over you or anything during your years apart, but right now when you’re in front of him it’s all he wants to know. Which is cruel and selfish in a way, in his specific Kaiser-ish way, how he’s first preoccupied with himself before he wonders about your state of mind or living situation. A need to bait for a sign you still care about him torments him even if it might be drastic right off the bat.

When no ingenious idea for such a thing comes to mind and Kaiser realizes he’s been staring at you like a moron, he says, “Don’t call me Mr. Kaiser. It makes me sound old and decrepit.” And that isn’t what you of all people should be referring to him as.

You continue assessing him in a manner which can be described as judgmental at best. “Isn’t that what you said your name is during your little monologue?”

“You already know what my name is.” The awkward silence which follows is almost unbearable. Kaiser scratches himself on the neck even though he’s not itchy just to pass the time. Finally he snaps, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Sorry to break it to you, sir, but most employees anywhere aren’t happy to listen to ten minute long demented tirades about non-problems.”

“Well maybe I overreacted a little,” concedes Kaiser and gives you what he thinks is a suave smile in an attempt at downplaying how uneasy he is. He thinks you can feel it. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose, hurting him with intention. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know me?”

Your pitiless gaze sticks to him like glue even when you take out the ice cubes and throw a generous amount into his drink before sticking a paper parasol in it with lots of spite, which is what the big stink he threw a tantrum over was all about. Kaiser wants to tell you that you’re very hot when you’re no longer a starving punching bag, but thinks better of it. Doesn’t seem charming even coming from him. 

“There.” You slide the cup across the counter towards him. “I fixed your shitty smoothie.”

“It’s not a smoothie!”

“A mocktail is basically juice.”

Wrapping his fingers around it, Kaiser doesn’t leave. Instead he chooses to stay and observe you in silence, jaw clenching.

“You can go.”

“I’m not going until you admit you know who I am.”

“What, are you famous or something?” you ask, bemused.

Kaiser is on the cusp of hypertension because you’re doing it on purpose and you’re not even doing it well because you want him perfectly aware of what you’re up to. You’ve never done this — hurt him before, let alone by design — so Kaiser almost assumed you were incapable of it. Though it makes sense that you are. After all, you’re the same type of inhuman he is, and he’s done this if not worse hundreds of times, and even reveled in it. Yet the realization you’re not what he remembers of you stirs disillusionment within him. The nature of it, he doesn’t quite grasp.

Kaiser contemplates causing a scene more than he already has, but he’s not sure how to do so while still getting what he wants. Trying to joke even though above all he wants to throw a tantrum, he whines, “You’re so immature.”

“I’m sorry that my reaction to getting threatened with a lawsuit over ice cubes was immature, Mr. Kaiser.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Your exterior remains listless and vacant, and Kaiser wants to scream the longer you scrutinize him in this manner. Eventually you spin your finger near your temple as if to call him delusional, then move onto taking the order of someone else.

His eyes narrow until you’re so blurry he can barely see you, perhaps either to censor you from his sight or because a milder expression wouldn’t suffice in communicating his disdain. With a final grit of his teeth and maybe a visible vein on his forehead, Kaiser stands up to leave. Fine. You win this one, but it’s war now.

The scorch of the sand under his feet startles him. He kind of forgot how hot it was, what with getting so distracted. Another comeuppance on a list of many. Today is punishment.

Dramatic inner soliloquy aside, Kaiser makes it back to the beach bed quickly, still reeling over that interaction. You’re here? You’re here, in front of him again, and apparently you’re not too happy to see him.

In the most disinterested tone he can muster, Sae asks, “Did they fix your smoothie?”

“It’s not a fucking smoothie!” With the grace of a lobotomized koala, Kaiser drops it over the small table separating them and barely resists the urge to hurl it at Sae. This would do wonders for his mental health short term, but again he’s trying to feign decorum.

With his trademark deadpan, Sae pretends none of that just happened. Kaiser turns around to look back at the hotel bar where you’re gesticulating at your coworker. Both of you seem immensely annoyed, wild and animated while you converse.

“Fuck, they’re totally complaining about me.”

Sae follows the line of direction through which Kaiser is stalking you. After a few seconds of analysis, he says, “Those are definitely the ‘this shit stain just threatened to sue me,’ ‘wow, really, what the hell’ faces.”

Kaiser snaps his head to look at him with genuine surprise. “What- How’d you know?”

“... You’re so embarrassing, it’s predictable.”

“And you’re annoying,” he says. “I’ll tell Coach to get rid of you and airdrop me Ness.”

“It’s cute that you think the coach cares about your opinion on me enough to replace me. The same as thinking the strippers at the club like you, in a way.”

There is a while of silence where Kaiser’s just snarling while Sae seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he adds his finisher,

“Or I guess in your case it’s like thinking the bartender actually cares about your order.”

Oh, fuck this vacation.

___

The heat is unbearable.

You step out into the sun and saunter up the wooden path to take your break away from the beach. Sweat has been exuding from your skin for the last few hours. Even so when you make it to the sidewalk, you keep your eyes trained on the scenery as you trudge on to your destination. The sand, the sea, the plants — some natural and some artificial.

Before long your legs take you to your usual street vendor, where you’ll order a shitty pancake that won’t do much to nourish you, but it’ll be so sweet that you’ll be too nauseous to get hungry for a while. The queue isn’t unbearable.

Not until you sense someone hovering behind you, followed up by a hand settling on your shoulder. You turn around to grace the offender with a disgusted side glance, but you’re so baffled to see Kaiser there, you just… freeze.

He’s sneering at you. In fact he looks so happy with himself, you want to vomit. Preferably on him.

“What a coincidence,” he says without even a sliver of shame.

You roll your eyes and face front again, deciding it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to his existence. Taking this as a sign to elevate the antics to a more obnoxious level, Kaiser resigns himself to the role of one of those domesticated leeches, hanging off you now, fully wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His gaze is burning into your side profile to the point it’s unnerving and you can feel the artificial smugness emanating from his form.

“I thought we were done talking yesterday.”

“Really? You did? How naive,” he coos at you mockingly.

It is convenient that during this time of need �� when you’re lacking a good comeback — your time to order comes up. You talk to the guy working about your aforementioned shitty pancake. The moment you shut your mouth, however, Kaiser starts listing off things you’re not even keeping track of like you’re hanging out together or something.

With a mild dispute over whether it’s ‘backwards’ that they do not accept payment through a card, which makes you want to die because you’re a regular here and now the employee who knows you by face will associate you with this pest, Kaiser pays for your thing, too. On the one hand you’re prideful, but on the other you’ve lived the life of a bottomfeeder who takes every scrap they’re given without question, and it’s the kind of conditioning you can’t let go of. So you allow it.

He ends up with an inordinate amount of food in his hands, too much for one person to eat. You’re still doing your ignoring shtick even when Kaiser pulls you down to sit next to him on the table. Content with pretending he doesn’t exist as he is dead to you, you bite onto your food in relative peace, mind drifting somewhere else. Until he speaks that is. “This must be our fateful meeting.”

“I don’t see what’s so fateful about it if you followed me?”

Unbeknownst to you, Kaiser too is adept at the ‘hearing only what he wants to hear’ game. So he moves on with the conversation without any indicator of comprehending what you just said. “I think it’s quite ironic, actually.”

“What are you on about now?”

“You told me you want to go to the beach once. And where do I find you? On the beach. It's an astral influence, I’m sure.”

“Ah? I don’t remember telling you that.”

You’re blinking at him in mild confusion. This hurts Kaiser a hundred times more than when you were deliberately going out of your way to act dismissive of him because he can tell you mean it. To think one of the moments he clung onto the most had slipped your mind.

His eyes are wide and his lips stand still in a thin line, so he forces himself to smirk again and glosses over the information which just shattered him. “So you admit you know me then?”

“No, Mr. Kaiser, I have no idea who you are. I’m thinking you should admit yourself to a hospital. They say false memories are an important symptom in psychopathology.”

“Very funny. I prefer Micha or at least Michael, though.”

“Do I give a fuck?”

He scowls at you. “Yes.”

You finish off your pancake and wipe your hands with the napkin in mild disgust. Kaiser laughs at the wrinkle of your face while you do so, and then he scoots an inch closer.

“Help me finish it all off.” He gestures at all the paper plates.

Pinching between your fingers, you tug the first thing that seems appetizing closer to your side of the table. Kaiser scoops up some of the portion for himself and dumps it in another meal. You ask, “Why are you trying to suck up to me?”

“Aw, is it so wrong to want to treat my closest friend?”

You scoff. The movement of your eyelids fascinates Kaiser — you never really showed any annoyance towards him before, so he finds these expressions of distaste fascinating even if they make him sick. “We haven’t seen each other in four years, so if I’m still your closest friend somehow, that’s just sad. Be for real if you’re gonna be anything.”

“You’re being so difficult! What did I even do?!” To be honest, he’s lying and his gaze isn’t even shying away from you while he’s lying, not even a twitch. He knows you, so he knows that you’re mad he couldn’t be assed to tell you where he went even though he obviously could. He thinks playing dumb might be more in his favor here, though, so he’ll do that. “I don’t even like going to the fucking beach. I’ve been going every year to different places searching for you.”

The unbridled perturbation on your face upon hearing this is quite amusing. Priceless even. You were calling him crazy merely for the sake of fucking with him, and perhaps it was your earnest attempt at gaslighting him but you’re not about to admit it. Right now, though, you think he is genuinely insane.

“You’re saying that to appease me,” you accuse, hoping you’re correct, but also not. The idea he might’ve thought about you like you did about him while you were separated enthralls you, though you can’t let him win you over his bullshit.

“Maybe,” says Kaiser, trying to be mysterious.

Since he obviously wants you to ask him for an elaboration, you deny him the satisfaction.

“How much do you make working at that shitty bar?”

“Enough.”

“I should take you back to Spain with me,” Kaiser decides. With too much confidence at that. “You’d have anything you could ever want.”

It is not like it was before. He’s not acting the way he used to. You suppose you aren’t either. But anyway, you thought it inconceivable that he would ever joke — is he joking? — or make the absurd statements he’s been making. It’s natural, in a way, since you’re also not of the same temperament as before.

With a huff, you say, “You’ll never be my sugar daddy, Kaiser.”

“You’re no fun nowadays.” There’s an amused lilt in his tone while he sneers — you think the way he smiles is fake. You recall he was kind of quiet and awkward and stilted, unnatural at first maybe because he was out of practice in communicating with others, but now he speaks with insincere charisma, like a showman. Yet still the things he says so casually are off-kilter, ruining whatever illusion he’s attempting to sell. “And I said to call me Micha.”

“I don’t need to call you anything.”

It’s all about the metamorphosis. It’s about becoming each other so you’re never truly apart.

___

You’re crouching under one of the tropical trees overlooking the road by the wooden path leading down the beach. The shade is insufficient and the heels of your feet are digging into your ass to the point it hurts. Before your break, the thought of smoking a cigarette had entered your brain so you obeyed it as it was too pervasive even though you don’t enjoy lighting up anything during such weather, believe it or not.

Your eyes are glossy since you’re spacing out, taking puffs. When two silhouettes come to a halt right in front you, only then does the absentminded trance end.

Kaiser waves at you with unnecessary enthusiasm which is just for show. They’re late, arriving way past their usual time. Earlier when he and his companion didn’t show when you expected them to, you assumed maybe their vacation ended and they’d headed home.

The other guy is sullen, but at least his eye lashes are long, which must count for something. After sparing you a glance, he turns towards Kaiser and says judgmentally, “You’re still harassing staff.”

“I’m not har-”

Not giving a shit, the other guy straight up leaves, not bothering to participate in the discussion on a topic he brought up. You watch in mild bafflement as he walks off without a care.

“Ignore him,” Kaiser says. A plastic smile overtakes his face before he squats down next to you, butting into your body with his and almost toppling you over. This is probably bad for his knees, and you’re half exposed to the sun now. Somehow he has created several problems where there were none. “You still smoke.”

You don’t reply, but maintain the common decency not to blow any in his face. He should stay away from you. Isn’t he an athlete? Shouldn’t he be cautious about secondhand smoke? You consider putting it out altogether, then, so you stub it in the almost empty can of the fizzy drink you’d been drinking earlier.

“What kind of lighter do you have now? Has your taste gotten any better?”

No response again. He places an arm around your waist. Through touching you so often it’s like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that you were close, and yet intangible things seem to evade Kaiser, so maybe he’s struggling to conceive of any other way to reestablish your connection.

“You still smell the same. Like nicotine.”

“Well, you smell the way you used to, too.”

The space between his brows wrinkles and his nose twitches in irritation at your words. “The fuck do you mean? No, I don’t.”

“Let me spell it out for you in a way we both understand.” For the first time since your strange reunion, you reciprocate the physicality and pull him in by the shoulder till you’re forehead to forehead so you can look him in the eyes while explaining. “When I saw you a few days ago for the first time in so long, it was like you basically still had a sign that says ‘broke ass bum.’”

He gapes at you with incredulity, this offended expression on his face.

“I mean,” you say, snickering in bewilderment at the absurdity of his previous actions, “you were gonna sue me over some ice cubes, really? Acting like a spoiled little prince to disguise where you crawled out from? I think you and I have got the kinda stench not even all the Dior in Avenue Montaigne can wipe off.”

His fingers would’ve dug hard into your flesh if your shirt wasn’t in the way with how his grip tightens in response. The grit of his teeth exposes more of them. Strangely, you think he has nice gums. “Why the fuck are you being like this?”

“‘Cause you were content to forget all about me, but you don’t want me to be angry at you either. You should’ve just been polite and pretended you didn’t recognize me. But no, you want it all. I hate people like you who make no sense.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kaiser accuses, trying the snobby angle. If he’s pretentious then he’s not hurt by you claiming you despise him. At least that’s what he settles on.

“Sure. That could be true as well.” You stand up and take the can with you to throw away.

Kaiser plops down on the sand, tired of squatting, and doesn’t bother watching you plod back to the bar but the sound of your footsteps rings heavy in his ears until it dissipates. He hugs his knees like the wet wipe he is at heart.

The kindest person he’d known was a scammer and a liar and a thief and who knows what else. It hurts like nothing else to bear the weight of your desertion.

This must be cellular rejection. You should’ve been ecstatic to see him on account of your shared inhumanity. Does it not matter to you anymore, the fact that you and Kaiser are the same?

… Right; you’re not the ball. When he hits you, you can hit him back.

___

The beach is desolate and eerie at night. Kaiser came out to brood, which was fine because Sae didn’t care to ask him where he was going when he left the room. Unlike during the day, the sand is cool under his feet now — what an obtuse observation to make, all things considered. He’s annoyed and frustrated at himself as usual when things don’t go his way.

There’s a light illuminating someone’s face where they recline on one of the lounge chairs. It’s blue, meaning the source is a phone. Kaiser startles because he assumed he was alone.

And you startle when you see him staring at you in the dark, but instead of screaming all you do is let out an unconvincing gasp and turn on the backlight to reveal him. Kaiser covers his eyes with his forearms and turns away, letting out some vampiric kind of noise.

Then you frown and go back to tapping away on your shitty mobile game. “You’re such a creep honestly,” you say in distaste.

Once he gets over the assault you just committed on his admittedly sensitive eyes, Kaiser sits down next to you uninvited.

“It’s a coincidence,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be around you either. You’re so fucking exhausting. Can’t talk to you like a normal person at all because of your stupid grudge.”

“Then why are you still trying?”

Of course, there are many answers to that question. Some including but not limited to I think I can still love you like before and I miss you and I regret not sending you that postcard and I hate how you’re mad at me, but I can’t seem to get it right. Though such pathetic things aren’t in Kaiser’s nature to spew, so they never make it past his throat. The words constrict around his neck like a noose.

Instead of answering, he says, “You’ve got a phone now. You should give me your number.”

“No.”

“You’re just trying to make my life difficult for no reason!”

You give him another one of your blank stares. In the dullness of the night, obviously the gesture stays meaningless, though Kaiser can sense the bemusement in your silence at least.

Seeing that ignoring the problem at large isn’t turning out to be the winning move, Kaiser sighs and tries to think of what to say. There’s probably some kind of trick to this, some way he could fool you into overlooking his transgressions. Though when you were friends, he never did that to you, and you never left him then. Maybe it’s not necessary. In this situation, it’s proving to even be detrimental.

Kaiser picks at the skin on his neck. It’s to his benefit you can’t see each other well — he’s not sure he’d be able to spit it out without the detachment of the environment. “Listen, I’m not good at this shit, but… If I have to be honest, I was really paranoid. I didn’t want to think about the past and I didn’t want to get dragged back into it, so I was too scared to even write you a letter to tell you I’m fine. But stumbling on you again, it’s probably fucking stupid but I don’t want to lose track of you anymore. It’s lonely.”

“I wasted a year of my life thinking you were dead,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow’s my free day.”

There’s an uncertain excitement in Kaiser now, as if you might be yanking his chain and he doesn’t want to commit to the feeling right away. “Sure, I’m leaving after tomorrow, so that works. Meet me here and we can catch up.”

“I see this shitty beach enough as it is,” you say.

“Yeah, but not the way you’re supposed to.”

You shrug.

Without prompting or any indication that you care, Kaiser says, “I have a horrible sunburn.” He will always find something to bitch about. It’s like he’s never satisfied.

After a few swipes, you unlock your phone and pass it to him so he can add his contact information. “Then use aloe vera or something. What are you, stupid?”

“I don’t have any,” justifies Kaiser, inputting the digits. His tone is defensive because this is the first he’s heard of it, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.

Your forgiveness is fake, in a way. It’d been a grudge you held for a while and a betrayal you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Maybe you’ll hold it over his head if he displeases you. So it’s not real forgiveness, is it, more so a lenience, a testament to your past, that your love for him somehow prevails over your need to enact the lex talionis.

___

The sand sinks under your weight with each step you take, waves lapping over the shoreline, seagulls and children squealing in the background. Sunset makes everything easier on the eyes and the heat is finally settling down since it’s getting late into the afternoon.

You had a nice time catching up with Kaiser in another part of the city, although he displayed a susceptibility to tourist traps. He gloated a lot, and you pretended you didn’t know about half of it from reading his Wikipedia page that one time when you were fostering your hate boner for him. You told him about how you ran away and ended up in another country and about how you’re still on the missing persons site.

Now you’re going back by the seaside instead of through the streets. You walk side by side, your ankles touching the water. Kaiser’s grin is wide, which makes him seem smug, but this time it doesn’t strike you as forced so maybe he is simply carefree. It’s an unusual sight for you — Kaiser, genuinely smiling.

“I think I’ll come see you again when it’s off season. Or maybe we can arrange for you to come visit me instead. I’ve got all sorts of things I want to show you,” he says. He never really had anything to give you before, and now he takes pride in having the means to do so, regardless of whether you’re interested or impressed.

“Whatever, Micha. You’re so full of it. I bet it’ll be lame or you’ll forget you promised.”

He remains pleased despite the teasing, even happier if possible. “It’s fine if you say pointless shit like that, I don’t mind a challenge. All I have to do is prove you wrong.”

___

Lol at the end of finishing this I teared up in Frustration because I couldn't write this the way I envisioned it and then I couldn't save it through editing either (<- guy who's defiinitely normal and casual ) and I kinda just wanted to be done with it so I'm not gonna hold it hostage any longer either. Idk I'm just mad and depressed about it rn i guess. Thank U all for tapping in

[astrodoll2]

🍒Venus sign observations part 2🍒

Gemini Venus I know you guys are closet romantics, you love all that romantic shit just won’t admit it. The kisses, hugs, hand holding, the thought out gifts, the corniest compliments that would make anyone else wanna gag, you may move from person to person but that’s just because you constantly need to be mentally stimulated as you’re ruled by Mercury, it’s funny because you’re “picky” but the people you choose are usually guys/girls people don’t expect you to pick because it doesn’t matter if they’re less attractive than you you’re just more picky personality wise. Also you’re closet has the most random aesthetic clothing, you like to try out all styles.

Libra Venus okay since this is its planet ruler along with taurus I see taurus being more of a luxurious aesthetic while libra usually tends to go with the trends, tiktok must have a libra venus because y’all see anyone wear anything and role with it, but as for your love style you guys loves to be flirty just for fun, kinda like Aries except they like to be chased rather than chase themselves, very feminine venus reminds of “the girl next door” type vibes, warm and kind energy.

Scorpio venus WOMEN WITH THIS VENUS ARE SO FINE and magnetic even the men, it’s like on the outside say you have a air or earth sign sun making you seem calm and collected but being around you I can just feel there’s more underneath, you exude mystery and it’s hard to FULLY get to know you, very possessive which personally I find attractive, you might be a little selfish but it’s just cause you don’t like to share what’s yours typically friends or romantic interests you get mad if they’re around certain people. Trust issues.

Cancer venus I know this one gets hate because they’re “emotional” but personally I think it’s cute sometimes you guys are so vulnerable and put your emotions out there so I don’t have to guess what it is you’re feeling, people with this can be very nurturing the type to buy you gifts or food when you’re sick and take care of you. Such warm energy and trust worthy but will not hesitate to fight anyone who hurts those they love.

Pisces venus I fucking love pisces and the rollercoaster of emotions you take me on, I don’t care how innocent this placement seems to appear because they’re “naive or delusional” half the time they’re the ones tricking you since they can mirror you so well you start to like them because they remind you of you, but this can be a very confusing placement as you’re constantly in the battle of taking people on and off the pedestal after any minor inconvenience, you guys are a little emotionally unavailable but mask it with you just have unrealistic standards, but the aesthetic is chefs kiss.

Sagittarius venus such a colorful closet, very extroverted, type to have the best fits at raves, might get confused for Leo’s just because of the confidence they exude, kinda intimidating ngl, they might love smoking 🍃 or doing psychedelics I’ve noticed but this is just such a fun person to be around it’s always an adventure with them, they’re sometimes pretty judgmental though I’ve noticed.

Venus in the 5th house can SOMETIMES be a placement that screams red flag especially if they have like a fire sign mars, they may have a tendency to enjoy flings, temporary people in your life. But nonetheless very creative, interesting, and passionate even if it’s for a short while

Venus square ascendant during their younger years might be pretty insecure because they have a hard time seeing their own beauty even if they get a million compliments they’ll feel as if people are lying to them but eventually they’ll realize they’re hot and put themselves on a pedestal

Venus square mars you’re energies within are very confused because you’re constantly changing what it is you desire so if a person appeals to you one second when you wanted something when you want something different you’ll hate them it’s like people aren’t good enough for you because you yourself are confused on what you really want since you keep going back and forth mars is masculine and venus is feminine so you might like chasing then want to be chased and resent the person for already getting comfortable in the position of being chased by you. Love hate relationships for a reason

Venus in the 2nd house has amazing taste in clothing, aesthetics etc.

Venus in 7th house attracts pretty people :)

SYNASTRY

They’re not lying when they say if you want to be someone’s type then go for someone who’s venus falls in your 1st house bonus points if it’s conjunct

Venus conjunct descendant synastry the ascendant person likes the way Venus carries themselves in a relationship as it falls in their 7th house (whole signs) but sometimes the Venus person might find the ascendants sense of style unattractive or at least just not their type since it’s opposite to theirs

Venus in 12th house can make them confused or even unaware of your feelings for them as it’s in a house of things hidden

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

End Up Here | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested:  Yes/No

hi!! could you please write a fic where the reader is an actor on jatp and the cast have a sleepover and some of them decide to play seven minutes in heaven, and the reader ends up in the closet with owen who they have a massive crush on and they end up making out in the closet? love your writing!!

A/N: Special thanks to @calamitykaty and @vrthngiwnt for letting me bounce some ideas off them and giving me some of their creativity. Love you both! 

Pairing: Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Song(s) used: Into The Unknown - Frozen II / Drag Me Down - One Direction 

Warnings: It’s just light and fluffy. 

Words: 6,411

How in the holy hell did she end up here? Here. In Savannah’s closet, kissing one of her best friends whom she’d had a crush on for weeks now. Kissing Owen Joyner. It was only this morning they were still bullying each other playfully during dance training. It was only a month ago the two had met. 

A month ago she got the call from her agent that she got the gig. She was going to be in a Kenny Ortega production. A freaking Kenny Ortega production. After being a fan of his work since she was literally a child, she finally got the honor to work with him on a project. Albeit as more of an extra, but still. 

A member of popular girl Carrie Wilson’s band. Dirty Candy singer #3. Member of Dirty Candy. No matter how she put it, it still all seemed so surreal. 

The first day of bootcamp, y/n was extremely nervous. This was her first ever project and she wanted to do it right. This was something so close to her heart as she, herself, had lost her mom and lost the love to dance and sing for a while too until she found the strength again through friends and family. 

Besides, getting to play a mean girl did seem a lot of fun. 

“Oh, hey,” a girl greeted. She had long blonde hair that cascaded into curls down her neck and shoulders, and big brown bambi eyes twinkling at her. “I’m Savannah. You’re a Dirty Candy member?” she introduced herself and asked you, in one go. 

“Uh, yeah! I’m member number three,” she chuckled awkwardly before reaching out her hand towards her. “I’m y/n,” she said with a smile that reached her ears. Savannah looked at her hand and then grabbed it, and pulled her in for a hug. 

A surprised shriek arose from member number three before she wrapped her arms around the 5 foot something specimen that clung to her for a while. 

“I can’t wait to get started!” Savannah clapped her hands excitedly when she had pulled away from the hug. 

As time went by, a lot more people filed into the room. Some of them y/n recognized, like Jeremy Shada, but also some of the fellow dancers seemed very familiar. Probably from dance classes back in High School or College, she thought. 

“Okay, let’s get this started!” A man of medium-build with a baseball cap on his head and a smile on his face clapped his hands, and rubbed them together as if planning some sort of scheme. “I’m Paul Becker, I’m the choreographer and along with Tori and Louise, my assistants, I’ll be getting you prepped for all dance rehearsals.” He pointed at the two girls on the first row. One of which y/n knew from college, Tori. A petite brown girl who was so sweet and kind, and a masterpiece of motion. Y/N remembered how she always outshone everyone in class. 

Kenny Ortega stood next to Paul, smiling at the group of talent he’d accumulated, and said, “We’re just gonna start with some icebreaker games today to get to know each other better and then really get to work.” Y/N glanced around the room to check if she was the only one that seemed nervous. Halfway through the room, she made eye contact with a tall blonde boy with what she thought was the most adorable smile ever. She shot him a smile back before focusing on Kenny again. “I’m assuming not everyone knows each other’s names yet, so I suggest we start with the name game?” he looked at Paul, who gave a nod of assent. 

“Let’s all sit down in a big circle,” Paul said, rotating his finger to indicate the circle. Savannah, standing closest to Y/N, grabbed the girl’s hand and brought her closer to the rest of the group before they both sat down, along with the others. 

“The premise is to remember everyone else’s name,” Kenny began, “So, for example. I’ll start and say Kenny, then Paul, who’s sitting next to me goes ‘Kenny, Paul’, then Tori has to go ‘Kenny, Paul, Tori,’ and so on and so forth. Got it?” All participants nodded their heads. 

A groan is heard from the other side of the circle, “I’m gonna have to remember so many names!” The blonde guy with the cute smile from earlier whined. The group burst out laughing at his annoyance. 

“Well, let’s hope you remember the names better than the lyrics to your audition song, huh, Owen?” Kenny retorted teasingly, sending the rest of the group into another fit of laughter as the blonde boy glared at the director. 

Y/N made a mental note to remember his name. Owen. When she looked at him at that moment, she recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t put her finger on where or how. 

“Okay, so, I’ll start,” Kenny said and repeated his name. 

“Kenny, Paul,” Paul said, then looked at the girl next to him. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori.” Everyone then averted their eyes to the blonde girl sitting next to Tori. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise.” Everyone’s eyes then went to the girl sitting on y/n’s right, who she’d met before. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah.” 

Her heart beated faster as everyone’s eyes were focused on her as she repeated the names, “Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah, y/n.” 

She looked around the circle with a smile as the girl next to her continued. Her eyes stopped at Owen, who was looking at her too with a tender smile on his face. Instead of simply shooting a smile back, she mimed “Pay attention”. His shoulders jolted from the soft chuckle that came through before he focused on the next person. 

The game went on for a while until it reached Owen. Y/N could tell from the look in his eyes that he was struggling to remember them all. There were a lot of names to remember, that’s true, but y/n thought it was pretty simple to remember. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah, y/n,” he halted his gaze on her for a split second before continuing, “Sacha, Jadah, uhm…” His eyes flicked back to y/n, begging for help. She started mouthing the names along, and even though he couldn’t really lipread, the help was welcome. “Kyra, Halle, Jeremy, Madison, Owen.” 

Of course, he knew the last two people before him, but Kyra and Halle seemed difficult names for him to remember.

“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” the boy next to him slapped him on the shoulder as the group burst out into laughter. Owen, however, couldn’t help but smile as he looked at y/n. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t that bad,” he mumbled and shot her a thankful wink. 

Charlie then ended the circle, and though Kenny wanted to go around the circle once more, the contradictory moans and complaints made him finish the game and tell everyone to get up off the floor. Paul grabbed a rope from the ground near the wall-covering mirror and handed one end to Kenny. The latter looked around the room for a second before calling out y/n’s name, beckoning her to come over. Confused and a little embarrassed, she walked over to the director. 

“You’re about the average height of everyone here, so we need your waist,” he told her, chuckling. The soft caress of his hand on her shoulder made her calm down a little as he guided her to the middle of the room. Paul and Kenny then secured the rope at the height of her waist. One side on the barre, the other on a hook in the wall. “I’m gonna split you into two groups and make it a competition,” he then said and looked around the room to see who could make a great team. 

“Let’s do Dirty Candy against Julie and The Phantoms?” Paul suggested, “Jadah with the Phantoms team and Sacha with the Dirty Candy team? And Louise can join the Phantoms team too, to balance it out.” Kenny let his eyes wander over the two groups as they scattered towards each other. 

“Yep, I like that,” he then said and clapped his hands. “Premise of this game is to get across the rope together. There’s no going under it, it’s not a game limbo dancing. Okay? You gotta brainstorm and get across using teamwork.” 

“What does the winner get?” Owen asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he and his team huddled together on one side of the rope, closest to the mirror. 

“If Team Dirty Candy wins, they get to see your audition tape,” Kenny promised, immediately wiping off the smirk on Owen’s face as everyone on team Dirty Candy cheered and giggled. “If Team Phantoms wins…” 

A boost of confidence rushed through y/n as she exclaimed, “No need for that, Kenny. Team Dirty Candy is gonna win!” Sacha and Halle lifted their hands, so y/n hit hers against them in high fives. 

The director laughed at that while Owen kissed his teeth, an amused smirk playing at his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said. “Kenny, what’s in it for us?” The director’s eyes darted from y/n to Owen and back, picking up on the connection that had formed between them with just non-verbal communication. 

“What would you say if I could get into possession of home videos from when y/n was younger.” Y/N’s eyes widened at this. She had almost forgotten her parents used to be buddies in college with Kenny, and he and her dad worked together on a couple of projects. 

“Yep, okay, you’re going down, Dirty Candy!” said Owen threateningly. “How is that fair, Kenny?!” y/n exclaimed, glaring at Owen as he cackled.

“About as fair as you seeing my audition tape!” he yelled, but still had that amused smile on his face that told her he wasn’t actually mad at her. 

She pressed her lips together into a tight line before turning to her team. “We have to win this thing, guys.” All four other Dirty Candy singers and Sacha nodded their heads determinedly, and threateningly turned back to their opposing team. 

“You’ve got half an hour to get everyone across. Every time a person touches the rope, everyone who’s already crossed over has to go back,” Paul explained in a stern tone. “Teams ready?” Both teams huddled up into a group, ready to brainstorm quickly. Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Owen straight away. He glared at her as she pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then pointing them to him. “3-2-1… GO!” Paul pressed the timer on his phone as the two teams began frantically discussing. 

“I used to be a gymnast,” Kyra started in a hushed tone. “If I can get onto someone’s shoulders, I can summersault my way off?” 

“Don’t you need a mat for that on the other side so as to not break your ankles?” Halle asked, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. The gymnast of the group shook her head, and so the discussion continued. 

On the other team, Owen was taking the lead in their discussion. He seemed to just have a game plan ready in his mind. There was no way the other team would ever be allowed to see his audition tape. It was way too embarrassing. 

“We’re gonna start with Charlie and me on our knees in front of the rope. Louise or Jeremy, one of you is gonna stand on both our knees and hop over. Then, whoever went over is gonna mirror us on the other side, so the next person has to step onto your thigh as they step over. We’re just gonna continue like that until I’m the last one here. I’m able to just jump across.” His teammates looked at him as if he’d just spoken Chinese. Blinking eyes and mouths ajar. 

They had five minutes left and on both teams, the second to last person had just gone over. Now, only Owen and Y/N were left standing on their side. Glaring at each other when they noticed this was match point, both of them stepped back for the run-up, and leapt over the rope at exactly the same time. 

Their teammates cheered as both teams huddled into a group hug. Kenny and Paul stood on the sidelines, applauding both team’s efforts. 

“I think we have a tie,” Kenny announced once the cheering had died down. 

“So, what does that mean?” Owen asked, glancing over at y/n anxiously. It would be fairest to have both their prices or no prices at all. 

“I think our two team captains can decide that,” Kenny said, pointing at both Owen and y/n, who had started this little war in the first place. “Do you wanna see each other’s videos, or is no one ever gonna see anything at all?”

Y/N and Owen glanced at each other, trying to communicate what each of them were feeling in that very moment. Owen’s eyes searched her face as she bit down on her lip. It wouldn’t be fair for me to see her old family videos. Those are kind of private, he thought. 

“I think we’re good,” Owen replied and offered the girl a smile as she nodded her head agreeingly. “This was a fun game, I don’t think it needs a price.” 

“Agreed.” 

Kenny and Paul told them to take a break before they got to the real dance training. Before y/n could join Savannah to their bags, Owen stopped her with a wide smile plastered on his face. 

“Nice job, y/n,” he said, opening his palms and holding them out to her. Y/N hit her hands on his in a double low five as a giggle escaped her lips. 

“You too,” she said. 

The rest of the day was spent dancing, or at least for Y/N. The first two hours, they had dance training together, but then they were split up into groups again. Y/N had more dance rehearsals with the girls from Dirty Candy while Madison and the boys went to try out some songs they were going to sing on the show. 

From that first day on, y/n knew that this wasn’t just going to be a work relationship she was building up with these people. She felt in her stomach that these people were going to become her best friends, her family. And she wouldn’t want to change it for the world. 

At the end of bootcamp, y/n was proven absolutely right. They had become the best of friends, and almost like a family. And they had yet to start filming. The next few months were going to be even more fun, especially that final night of bootcamp since Savannah had invited everyone to a sleepover at her place. 

Though y/n was half certain Savannah only did it to get her and Owen together, she was still excited about it. The blondie knew y/n had a thing for the tall blonde man ever since the first day, but she hadn’t done anything about it as she wanted to keep it professional. 

But of course Savannah didn’t quite agree to that.

The night of the sleepover, Savannah invited a few of the closest people over to her place. She literally went all out on this night. There were bowls of different varieties of chips scattered around tables, stacks of red cups on her kitchen counter, candles and fairy lights everywhere. Though, y/n was kind of apprehensive about the candles being a danger, she didn’t really say anything about it. It wasn’t going to be that kind of night, she thought. 

She even got them matching PJ’s. On the backside of six of the white T-shirts was TEAM DIRTY CANDY printed in a bright pink while the other five -- since Louise couldn’t make it -- read TEAM PHANTOMS in purple. She bought pink shorts for the girls on her team, purple ones for the girls on the other. For the boys, she brought grey joggers. 

Y/N appreciated the effort Savannah put into tonight. It was something she would do, too. She was a sucker for an over-the-top party and went all out herself on every occasion. 

“I made a non-alcoholic Sangria punch for everyone,” she said as she pointed to the large glass bowl on the kitchen counter near the stack of cups. “Who would like some?” 

Team Dirty Candy was complete while Team Phantoms missed two people. Two people who were often late for everything. Charlie and Owen. Of course they hadn’t arrived yet. It didn’t surprise y/n very much. Half an hour late. They were half an hour late. 

“We’re so sorry,” Charlie apologized to Savannah, “But this one over here was taking so long to get ready.” The brunette boy rolled his eyes as he thought of the dallying of the blonde one next to him. 

“You were barely ready when I was,” Owen countered and gladly took the punch-filled cup Savannah handed over before making a beeline towards the others who were gathered on the couches in the living room. 

His eyes immediately landed on y/n and his smile grew wider. “Well, look who finally showed his face, Dorian Gray.” His eyebrows knitting together made y/n realize he hadn’t the slightest clue about English Literature. “The Picture of Dorian Gray? No? Never read it?” Owen slowly shook his head as he slid down on the couch next to her. “OK…”

Y/N turned to Jadah, who was sitting next to her, completely ignoring Owen’s confused eyes. “Who the fuck is Dorian Gray?!” he yelled at Charlie, his eyes wide as he grew more and more annoyed. 

“Read a book!” Halle and y/n yelled in unison, and Halle even threw a pillow at him, reminiscent of that scene in The Heat where Melissa McCarthy threw a book at Michael McDonald’s face. The two girls fell into a fit of laughter, along with pretty much everyone else but Owen. He was too busy wiping the Sangria punch that had spilled with the impact of the pillow, off his jeans. 

“How about we get into our PJ’s and get this party started!” Savannah suggested, followed by an excited whoop. The girls all got up quickly, following behind Savannah while the boys stuck around the living room. They decided they needed to give the girls some privacy and would change after. 

“So…” Madison started when they were in Savannah’s bedroom, changing from their cute outfits into even cuter pj’s. “You’re gonna tell Owen how you feel tonight?” she asked y/n, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively up and down. 

“Feel about what?” y/n asked as she tucked her Team Dirty Candy shirt into her pink shorts. 

“About him!” Jadah exclaimed with wild eyes. “It’s clear you have a massive crush on him, girl!” Y/N looked around the room at the other girls, who were all just nodded their heads in accordance. 

Y/N scoffed after a few seconds of silence. She was thinking about confiding in them and telling them the truth, but it was no use. There was no way she and Owen could ever become a thing. She was supposed to be strictly professional as it was her first job. 

“I don’t have a crush on Owen,” she stated, grabbed her stuff and left the girls in the bedroom. After neatly folding her jeans and the top she had been wearing that day, and putting it into the backpack she’d taken with her, she made her way into the kitchen for some more punch. All while her mind went crazy. 

Sure, she had a definite crush on the blonde actor, but there was no way she was ever going to act up on those feelings. Owen probably didn’t even feel the same way about her anyway. Besides, she promised herself she would focus on her career instead of dabbling into relationships that probably won’t even last. 

The girls re-entered the living room at the same moment y/n went back with her full cup of Sangria. “Alright, boys, the bedroom is yours. It’s just around the corner,” Savannah told them, pointing to the door she’d left open. 

The four boys got up and, after receiving the pj’s from Savannah, disappeared into the bedroom. The complete quiet returning in the room. It made y/n a little anxious that the girls weren’t even talking. Mostly because she knew what they were thinking. They had told her a bizillion times already. 

“You could at least ask him!”

“He might say yes!” 

“You should act on your feelings!”

“This is gonna make you crazy!” 

She’d responded to that last one with, “If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right.” It shut them right up for a while. Until now, it seemed. 

“Let’s put some music on and get this party really started!” Tori suggested, hitting her hand against the red cup she was holding, excited to get dancing. Savannah agreed and grabbed her phone from the coffee table, connecting them to the speakers. It didn’t take long after that for music to begin filling up the silence. 

Into The Unknown from Frozen II chimed through the room. All the girls gasped. All but one. She cursed at herself for feeling this way and basically being a buzzkill right now. She didn’t want to be this way, but the thoughts about Owen kept consuming her. 

“I can hear you but I won't Some look for trouble while others don't There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whispers which I wish would go away, oh Whoa”

Tori and Madi turned to y/n as they sang along with Idina Menzel, trying to convince her to get up and belt the song with them. 

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls I'm sorry, secret siren, but I'm blocking out your calls I've had my adventure, I don't need something new I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The other four girls now sang to y/n as well, in an attempt to persuade her to party along with them. She wanted to, she really did. But y/n wouldn’t be y/n if she wasn’t a little stubborn at first. 

“Into the unknown Into the unknown”

Madison reached out her hand, but y/n slapped it away and got up on the sofa, belting out the last line of the chorus while the girls looked at her in awe. They knew she could dance and act, but they had no idea the girl had pipes. 

“Into the unknown”

As the girls belted out the rest of the song, the boys walked into the living room again in their Team Phantoms and Team Dirty Candy shirts, stumbling upon the scene of y/n on the sofa and the girls surrounding her as if they were her fans at a concert. All seven of them were singing the song at the top of their lungs. 

Owen couldn’t help the smile finding its way to his lips as he watched y/n in her absolute element. Though she be but small, the girl took up a large part of his heart. Ever since they met a month ago, her snarky remarks and her hunch for competition made him fall head over heels in love with her. And as the month went on and they became closer and closer, he kept avoiding asking the one question that was on the tip of his tongue. 

For now, being friends was enough for Owen if it meant watching her do stuff like this. 

“Are you out there? Do you know me? Can you feel me? Can you show me?”

Charlie’s voice made Owen snap out of his thoughts as he asked, “When are you going to ask her out, man? This whole ‘just friends’ thing is killing you.” Owen sighed at his best friend’s words. It wasn’t that he was wrong as much as he just didn’t like hearing the words out loud. 

“I’m fine, Charlie. There’s no way we could ever be together. Y/N is way too professional for that. And she might be right, you know? This is her first gig, if she wants to pursue this acting debacle, she has to be.” Owen didn’t even believe any of the words that rolled off his lips, but it’s what he’d settled on to ease his own mind. 

“Not with that attitude,” Jeremy mumbled. 

“I just don’t know what to do, okay?” he said and headed over to the concert y/n was giving the girls. The moment he came into her range of vision, she turned to him and sang the very last lines to him, and him alone, causing butterflies to well up in his belly.  

“Where are you going? Don't leave me alone How do I follow you Into the unknown?”

“Woah, y/n!” Halle exclaimed as she shook her head in disbelief. 

“Yeah! Woah indeed!” Savannah added, “Your voice! Girl!” Y/N chuckled, and grabbed the hem of her pink shorts as though she was wearing a dress and curtsied at the praise. 

“Thank you,” she said, and though she was playing it off coolly, her cheeks colored pink.

The next song started to play, which was Golden by Harry Styles, and the other three boys joined the rest of the group. Charlie, Sacha and Tori hopped onto the couch with y/n, belting out the song and sipping from their punch. 

This was what the sleepover mostly consisted of; singing along loudly to whatever song was playing, sipping from the punch and munching on the snacks Savannah had laid out for them. For at least an hour, they sang and danced until their feet started to ache. Up to the point where only y/n, Savannah and Madi were left standing. The boys and other girls had taken a seat on the couch, watching the performance they were giving them. 

Y/N had enough of their lame asses, so when her favorite One Direction song came on, she made her way over to the couch and took a hold of Owen’s hand first. “Come on, Golden Boy! Sing with me!” Little did she know everyone glanced at each other knowingly upon seeing this. 

“If I didn't have you, there would be nothing left The shell of a man that could never be his best If I didn't have you, I'd never see the sun You taught me how to be someone, yeah”

Owen finally caved in and sang along with the girl in front of him, eyes locked and filled with absolute admiration. 

“I’m… gonna…” Savannah muttered, but when she realized they didn’t even hear her, she ushered everyone out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving the two alone in hopes they would confess their undeniable love for each other. 

The boy twirled her around a few times, making her giggle before they fell into song again, making up some moves as they went. Neither of them even noticed the rest of the group was gone and watching them from the kitchen. 

“Anyone wanna bet nothing’s gonna happen?” Sacha muttered and frustratedly sipped his drink. He’d seen the way y/n looked at Owen that first day and just knew something would blossom between them. Everyone could see it. The sparks were ignited that very first day, and now they were just waiting for them to fan the sparks into a flame. 

“If I didn't have you there would be nothing left” 

Y/N reached her half empty red cup towards Owen like a microphone as he echoed part of the line. His green eyes never left y/n’s face. It almost felt reminiscent of the way Madison and Charlie sang at bootcamp as Julie and Luke. 

“Nothing left”

“The shell of a man who could never be his best” 

“Be his best”

“If I didn't have you, I'd never see the sun”

“See the sun”

“You taught me how to be someone

Yeah”

“I’ll give you ten dollars if Owen doesn’t stop at the end of the song when y/n hits those high notes,” Charlie told Sacha. The latter nodded his head in confirmation of the deal. 

At the end of the song, during the very last chorus, Owen had to stop singing in awe of y/n’s voice as she hit the high notes Harry Styles reverberated in between the other boys’ voices. She had the most unique voice he had ever heard. It had a bit of a rasp to it, and it quickly became his favorite sound in the whole world. 

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head at the couple as he exclaimed, “Called it!” and held his hand out for Sacha to give him the ten dollars. The blonde guy gave the older one a puzzled look. “I said I’ll give you a tenner if he didn’t stop. But he did, so. Hand it over, buddy.” 

Sacha rolled his eyes but went to grab the last ten bucks from his wallet and handed it to Charlie who happily socked it away. 

Another song started playing, making y/n gasp as her eyes averted from Owen’s to the kitchen where the rest of her friends were seated, watching the entire scene. “Tori! Do you remember the choreo to this one?!” she shrieked out. Tori offered the rest an apologetic smile before joining y/n in the living room and getting into the steps with her while Owen staggered into the kitchen. 

Madison and Savannah exchanged glances, deciding to put their mischievous plan in motion with a simple nod of the head. “Alright! Let’s play truth or dare!” Savannah called out and beckoned everyone into the living room where y/n and Tori whined at the disruption of their dance. 

“Oh, shut up, you guys do that dance almost every day in rehearsal!” Kyra countered while she jumped over the back of the couch. With a chuckle, Tori and y/n joined the others on the couch. Tori took a seat next Jadah while y/n went to sit on the end of the U-shaped couch, next to Owen. 

“I’ll start!” Madi shouted, raising her hand. “Jadah! Truth or dare?” Savannah and Madison agreed to handle it subtly and not get to Owen and y/n straight away. 

“Dare,” Jadah replied courageously, a wide smile on her face to show off her pearly white teeth. 

“Call one of your contacts in your phone and tell them you had a pregnancy scare,” Madi said as a smirk tugged at one corner of her mouth. Jadah grabbed her phone and opened her contacts. “Just scroll through and we’ll say stop,” Madison added. 

“STOP!” Madi and y/n shouted in unison. 

Jadah looked up with her eyes wide, “It’s Sarah Jeffrey,” she giggled and pressed the name before putting the device at her ear to listen. A silence fell over the room as they all watched Jadah carry out the dare. 

A smile played on y/n’s lips as she watched the young girl talk, but couldn’t help but zone out. She was suddenly incredibly aware of how close she was to Owen. He had one leg tucked under the other as she rested her forearm on his knee, leaning into his body as his arm laid on the back rest behind her. She could feel his heart beating against her ribs and his fingers softly graze her arm every now and again. 

“Jadah, your turn,” Savannah said, making y/n realize she had missed that entire conversation. It didn’t seem like Sarah Jeffrey said something too incredulous since everyone seemed to act quite normal. For as far as normal goes in this group. 

“Sacha! Truth or dare?” 

“Dare!” 

“Uhm…” Jadah pursed her lips as she thought. “Try and seduce the person next to you.” Sacha looked to his left, at Jeremy, and then to his right, at Charlie. He thought about it for a moment but turned to Charlie in the end. 

“I have too much respect for Carolynn,” he told Jeremy, which made the engaged boy chuckle as he played around with his ring. He definitely missed Care. 

Sacha cleared his throat before placing his hand on Charlie’s cheek and forcing the boy to look him in the eyes. Charlie’s smile faltered just before Sacha spoke, “You… Are so beautiful, you made me forget my pickup line.” His voice was hushed, barely above a whisper. Charlie visibly swallowed at the pretty boy in front of him. Before he could register it, Sacha had kissed his own fingers and placed them on Charlie’s lips. The older boy coughed, blinking his eyes rapidly as he turned to the group again. 

“Woah-kay! Next!” 

The group burst out into laughter until Sacha called out Savannah’s name. 

“I’m gonna pick ‘truth’,” she said with a smile, which vanished almost straight away when she got booed. “What? Somebody's gotta pick truth!” 

“Who is the sexiest person here?” Sacha asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Easy, all of you,” she uttered, shrugging her shoulders, “Y/N!” She pointed at the girl to her right. 

“Let’s go dare,” the unknowing girl answered with a smile as she shifted in Owen’s arms. 

“7 minutes in heaven with the person to your right.” The sentence flowed out of her mouth a little too easily. Y/N knew Savannah had done this on purpose, and now she wasn’t sure if she should hate her best friend or be thankful for the little push in the back. 

Y/N slowly turned her head to face Owen, only to find out he’s already getting up. Her arm fell from his knee and she tried to keep her balance from the sudden lack of support of her body. He held a hand out to her to help her up, but y/n wasn’t sure if she should do it. This could just about change everything in their dynamique. 

“A dare is a dare, y/n,” Madison added innocently, egging the girl on. 

The girl inhaled deeply before gently placing her hand in Owen’s and letting him pull her up. Savannah led them towards the closet where they kept their coats, and opened the door for the couple. 

All the way down there, y/n’s mind couldn’t stop racing. What was she going to do? Were they actually going to kiss? Or was this his way of telling her in private that he didn’t feel the same? Maybe she should just not give him the chance to say anything and break her heart. Maybe she should just kiss him to have at least experienced having his lips on hers so she could stop daydreaming about it. 

The closet door shut behind her, and she was left in the dimly lit cramped space with just a bunch of coats and Owen’s silhouette. Now’s her time to figure out what she should do. Now’s her time to decide. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I--” before Owen could finish his sentence, y/n attacked his lips with hers, pressing them together in a short, but sweet kiss. When she pulled away, she felt a heat rising to her cheeks. His lips taste better than she had ever dreamt of. How was she now supposed to forget about that? This was a terrible idea. 

Or at least she thought it was until he took this as permission to go forth with the whole seven minutes in heaven thing their friends wanted them to do. Hell, he wanted them to do it. 

He kissed her feverishly, his hands gripping at her waist as he tried to pull her closer and closer, even if that was almost impossible since her body was already pressed against his without any space left for imagination. 

She kissed him back as if her life depended on it, her fingers tangling up in his blonde hair. This was something she had fantasized about for a month. Every time they talked, she couldn’t help herself but glance at his lips and wonder what it would feel like to press hers to his. Since that very first day of bootcamp, she knew there was something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. But now she did. It was an attraction. Pure attraction. The way metal attracts a magnet. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since you so confidently told Kenny you were gonna win that game,” he panted, pressing his forehead against hers. “I didn’t think you felt the same.” 

“I have had a crush on you since you smiled at me that first day,” y/n admitted, a smile forming on her face as she stared into those beautiful eyes of his. They reflected back in exactly the same way they did after those ice breaking games on day one. 

He lifted his head to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows, “That’s all it took? OK…” Y/N let out an airy laugh as she hit him on the chest playfully. “So, what do you say to a date?” 

“Nothing, ‘cause a date can’t speak,” she wittily answered. Owen scoffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t withhold a smile reaching his cheeks. “All jokes aside, I think I would say yes to a date.” She reached up and stroked a strand of his hair from his forehead. 

“You think?” he asked. 

“Mmh, no, I’m pretty sure.” 

That just widened Owen’s smile before he dipped down to meet her lips again. A loud uproar was heard from the other side of the door at that moment. The couple in the closet giggled upon hearing this, knowing exactly that their friends had been eavesdropping. 

“Can’t believe they set this all up,” y/n said, shaking her head and placing her forehead against Owen’s chest. She inhaled his fresh scent of musk and sandalwood. A calming smell she had come to love. 

“Yeah... me neither,” he chuckled, “How did we end up here?”    

*

*

*

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg@thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti 

[moxfirefly]

74 prompt and 57 kink: with The turtle of your choice (I’ll let you choose). Show me what love can be like and knowing someone is listening

Interesting, let’s see how we combine these two. So just cause I wanna try it out with him and since I haven’t gotten a request for him in a hot minute, I’m going with Mikey 👌

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Breaks were needed and very much welcomed. Fighting night in and night out wasn’t necessarily a lifestyle that left much for self care and rest. The idea for a break had been voiced by April and Casey had stepped up to offer a great place.

The family cabin had been passed down to Casey a few years ago, he hadn’t gone up to the place in a year. It seemed perfect for overtired and overworked family. A getaway for a few days to rest and recover. The group chat bombarded you no less, everyone begging you to join in for the weekend.

You smiled down at the chain of messages but you mostly obliged when Michelangelo had texted you in private. The whole crime fighting gig had placed some pressure on the relationship, mostly due to the fact that Mikey would show up so bruised up or tired or at other times, not show up at all. You tried not to worry and you did a fairly good job at it but you missed him. You missed so much about him.

Some maneuvering around work you managed to lock in the few days off to disappear up to Casey’s cabin with the rest of the guys. Upon arriving the cold greeted you first than April. Winter was approaching and soon enough it would be too umberable to deal just about any common activity.

A last hurrah felt right. Seeing Mikey and spending time with him did too. Being around family, your chosen family.

“Tell me there’s a fire already starting in there” You wrapped your arms around April as she laughed. “Yeah Casey already flexed his lumberjack ways for me, fires just started” You shivered and thanked her before scurrying inside.

The warmth hit you first.

Then Mikey’s body connecting with yours for a tight hug.

It felt like ages since that, too long for you and the feel of those strong arms around you melted every negative thought from you.

A resounding ‘Angel!’ was all you caught before being picked up and held tightly by Mikey. A sigh of relief left him and you could also feel the tension melt from his body. “I missed you so much” Mikey planted a kiss on your neck, the press of his lips there making your skin breakout in goosebumps. It had been too long and it embarrassed you how such a simple kiss could do that to you.

Once back on your feet you took him in. There was still evidence of lethargy in his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping too well. Some already healed bruises here and there but nevertheless that excitable puppy dog energy of his was there and it all centered around you.

Most of the afternoon was spent settling in, you and Mikey had gotten a room for the two of you adjacent to where Casey and April would be sleeping. Another smaller room would house Raphael while Donnie and Leo would crash in the living room area close to the fireplace.

Between dinner preparations, some drinks, the majority of the time was spent relaxing and just playing all sorts of card games. You and Mikey had been glued together for the entire evening. In some form or way he had been touching you and you as well towards him. His presence had instantly healed so much of your worries and frustrations and despite the distance it hadn’t deteriorated the relationship.

Midnight rolled by and by 2am you and Mikey were in the cozy room you’d be spending the next few days in. The dark expanse of forest looked beautiful in the night, you sat at the window watching the branches rustle and the warm mug of hot chocolate kept you from other thoughts. It seemed rather stupid to feel a level of nervousness at finally having a moment alone with Mikey and that accompanied by a room even more so. Your situation was tricky, given you had roommates and Mikey’s ever escalating super hero activities alongside his brothers. Creativity in spots was a speciality of his and on the rare occasions the Lair was untenanted for the night, well you could indulge more comfortably.

He had walked in after going to bother Raph, his own admission, and upon returning he closed the door and locked it. The click made you aware that there was really nothing or no one to interrupt for the time being. You opted for some idle chat to not feel so nervous. “Your eye’s looking better” You took a sip from your mug. Mikey ran a digit across the purple-ish bruise that was started to fade. “Oh, um yeah, gotta keep the baby blues safe ya know” He smiled as approached you. You smiled cupping his cheek and running your thumb below his bruise. “First thing I noticed” Your words held comfort.

“Noticed what?” Mikey was enamored with the physical affection, he hardly could get enough on a regular day. “Your eyes, they were just so blue” It was true no less, the memory of that night lived in Mikey’s head on loop. You hadn’t screamed, you hadn’t called him hurtful names. When he had saved you from a muggin you honest to god had just thanked him. The situation was bizarre no less and it was shocking to see your hero but you had sensed zero danger from his behalf.

From that moment on, being with Michelangelo was the safest you had ever felt. “Could’ve sworn it was the guns” He chuckled when you gripped his arm and squeezed. “That was second, can’t lie” The two of you remained there, comfortably close but a thin tension that throbbed. You turned to face him while still seated at the window. Your eyes mapped out every inch of him. The hand at his arm pressed at the middle of his plastron, Mikey swallowed. He hasn’t felt that hand touch him with so much intimacy in a while. “I missed you angel” He placed his hand a top yours. You bit your lip and looked up at him, your eyes spoke more than you could ever and Mikey knew the language by heart.

So he kissed you. He kissed you with a tenderness that reminded you of the first time the two of you had kissed. His lips had never felt better, the plump thickness to them enveloping yours so neatly you moaned. That seemed to hit him hard in the gut, the way his hands traveled to your waist and held you firmly. You stood up still mid kissing him and pushed the kiss into something more firm.

Foreheads pressed you felt his hands grip the hem of your sweater and lift. Those blue eyes drank in the sight of his most priced possessions. “Missed you so much” He was breathless as you unlooped the strings of his sweats. There was something about this particular area that always fascinated you, the change in skin and color, the path leading to an intimate area. You kissed his neck, fingers running across the slit that housed his member, the pressure strong and the sensitivity making his knees jelly. “Do you...?” Mikey couldn’t finish asking as you already nodded your consent.

You gripped his hand, half kicking off your pants when he didn’t move. “Mikey?” You looked at him, eyes so bright and wanting and he couldn’t help but greedily admire it. Admire you and want you so much. He pulled you back towards him and embraced you. The intimacy gutted you, the overwhelming need that accompanied Mikey to just hold you close and feel you. Your arms were around his neck instantly and the two of you stayed like that.

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” It was soft and mumbled against your shoulder. Your smile was kind even as you stood back and held his face in your hands. “And so have you” The honesty flowed freely and Mikey beamed. “C’mere girl, I’ve missed you like crazy” You allowed him to pick you up and toss you on the bed, the fit of giggles only egging him on.

While the privacy was here, it sure didn’t mean that the entire cabin wasn’t occupied and your closest neighbors were in fact Casey and April. A flush of embarrassment hit you but soon enough Mikey had made his decent to his second favorite possession of yours. The feel of that mouth finally at your core left you in a daze. Mikey’s ability when it came to eating you out was something you never thought could exist and with each swirl and flick of his tongue it was evident that keeping quiet would not be a possibility. Especially when he begged to hear you, spoken against your clit with the warmth of his breath so close. You tried to cover your mouth but the feel of one thick digit entering you was your undoing. You’re sure and Mikey’s sure that the neighbors defenatly heard that.

There was a pride in that deep inside of Mikey. The idea of claiming you and having others know. For now he paid no mind especially when he buried himself inside of you and moaned long and deep. This never stopped being incredible, it’s exactly why he was always mesmerized by seeing your joined bodies. The contrast of skin color, the thickness of his memeber stretching you and causing you to cry out. Mikey could’ve cum like that just watching. “You’re so beautiful babe” He groaned thrusting into you. “Missed the fuck out of this, out of you” He leaned forward, engulfing himself around you, mouth at your neck. “Baby I want you to cream yourself all over me” The lewd words never seized to embarrass you, half the time Mikey barely would utter a ‘damn’ but this was the effect you had on him.

The bed protested and the headboards thumping was indicative of the activities going on. The most you could do was avoid Casey and April’s gazes at breakfast tomorrow. Right now you were, for lack of a better term, getting dicked down by your boyfriend after a dry spell. “Fuck fuck, oh fuck!” You gripped Mikey’s sides before letting your hands run towards his rear. Being filled to the brim and having your boyfriend absolutely spill filth into your ear was exactly the things you needed. “Yeah come on, for me baby, gonna do it for me? Gimme a show” Mikey sucked a bruise onto your neck and his quickening pace had your hand scrambling for your clit. “Yesss fuck” Mikey watched, hips trying not to loose the rhythm he knew would send you off.

You came with a loud moan that had Mikey’s name wrapped around it. If everyone heard it was at the bottom list of your priorities. Riding this high was top on the list and feeling Mikey cum with a series of ‘fucks’ and your name was all you need to add to your high. You ran a soothing hand down his shell, feeling him shiver with the intensity of his release. Each kiss placed on his cheek a testament to your adoration. Mikey found your lips in the haze of it all, and lazily kissed you back.

[obae-me]

Sweet and Sour Demons

Note: Thank you for 400 followers! It means so much to me that so many people appreciate what I do and write, and I’m excited to keep improving! So as a thank you, I wrote this little piece with some added visuals!

Disclaimer: I made these creations on Picrew, and I wanted to make sure I give proper credit, so, here’s all the places you can find this wonderful artist! Go support their work and make some cute chibis!

Picrew

Their Twitter

Their Website

You had no idea why you made these things. At first, it seemed like a great idea, you had sat there in a hallway at RAD, waiting just outside the door of the Student Council room. They were all having a meeting, which, of course, you weren’t allowed to attend. However, you were also barred from going anywhere by yourself, so here you were, waiting like a dog on a leash. It was, to say the least, absolutely mind-numbingly boring. You had scrolled and double-scrolled through everything on your phone, you had given up trying to read-you just weren’t in the right headspace- and even the occasional entertaining shouts and exclamations from the brothers had died down. So, you resorted to random websites, and in one, you did something you never should’ve done.

You created cute and heart-squeezingly adorable stickers of the brothers you knew so well. You knew the consequences, you had been there for the texting ban which came after those stickers were created of Lucifer and Diavolo. The house had been in chaos, and yet you made these anyway. You couldn’t help it! You were bored and your creativity and curiosity was begging you to see what they would all look like as kawaii dessert chibis. Plus, after you had made them, it had brought enough warmth in your heart to let you survive a harsh winter using nothing but your body heat.

You knew the trouble it would bring, you knew the moral consequences, so you had planned on not showing them to anybody. They’d just be your secret and yours alone, never to be shown to the world. The D.D.D. you possessed just skyrocketed in value.

Plans and secrets were hard to keep in the Devildom, especially for you, and despite what you had prepared for, you weren’t prepared for the meeting to end early. Today of all days. Right while you were giggling and hugging your phone to your chest, the doors swung wide open, each of the brothers catching you in the act.

Mammon sped past you like a whirlwind, a simple blur of white and gold. The phone was gone. Your phone was taken! Still left on the screen where all the little pictures were saved. Your heart almost stopped, that warmth snuffed out in seconds. Mammon just waved the phone around in his hand.

“What’s got you so giddy, eh? Who’re you talking to?” He frowned, the gold color of his eyes getting darker. “Since I’m so nice, I’ll let you tell me before I look.”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, Beel came over and plucked the phone from him. “Mammon, it’s not nice to invade MC’s privacy.” You were saved!

At least until Asmo came and snatched those hopes and dreams away. “Aw, but I want to know! The drama, the intrigue, who can resist?” These brothers were playing hot potato with your phone. None of them had seen what was on it yet, for some reason all of them assumed you were talking to someone. It was only a matter of time before…

Levi rushed over to Asmo. “They’re talking to someone other than us?” His envy almost started dripping from his body. “I need to see who it is!”

Satan aggressively grabbed Asmo’s wrist and tore the phone away from his brothers. “Honestly, all of you are such children.”

A tail knocked the phone out from Satan’s grasp and into the air, landing perfectly in Belphie’s palms. He was in demon form, already enraged somehow. “Who…” was all he could mutter.

“Please, it’s no one!” You pleaded, surprised you could still breathe and say words at this point. What played out before you was like some cartoon. Was it possible to still salvage this?

The eldest brother, annoyed by his siblings’s antics, used his powers to magically move your phone into his gloved hands. He had a deep scowl on his face. “The next person to touch MC’s D.D.D. without their permission is going to have a special punishment.” He shook his head and looked into your eyes. “Here you go, MC.” There was such a thing as miracles after all! You couldn’t believe it. “I’m sorry abou-” Lucifer cut himself off short, his eyes had just briefly flickered over your phone screen. Had he really just tried to take a sneaky look after everything he just said?

Everything was in shambles. The phone that had almost been in your possession once again, just inches from your fingertips, was snapped away, plastered near Lucifer’s face as he looked upon your screen with an expression for the ages. Confusion. Slight amusement. Then bafflement. Now he was in his demon form.

“MC…” his voice was a rumbling sound, almost deep enough to make the floor shake. “What are these?” His brothers all looked intensely curious, but none of them even dared move.

“I wasn’t going to do anything with them, I swear! No sharing, no money, no nothing. I was just bored and...I thought they were cute?” You even questioned it yourself, your confidence wavering. Lucifer was silent...much too silent. You were prepared for anything, a lecture, your D.D.D. confiscated, even death.

His scowl turned into a smile, an evil smile. “I think it’s only fitting to share these with everyone else, right, MC? Once we get home, I want to see you in my study.” With a menacing glint in his eyes, he held his hand out to let his brothers, rabid with curiosity, claw their way at your phone to look at the contents.

Lucifer

Dessert: Chocolate-Covered Strawberries

Description: Despite their simplicity, this dessert is widely popular and renowned for its flavor. It doesn’t need to be overly flashy to be a prideful fan favorite. It’s not sickeningly sweet or rich like lots of other desserts. Its strong fruity tartness mixed with a sweet outer layer makes this the perfect dessert for the demon of Pride.

He’ll admit, he was shocked to his core when he saw the creation on your phone. He had felt deeply insulted that you would make him look like that. On the other hand, the fact that you had gone out of your way to make something in his likeness--no matter how disgustingly cute and humiliating it was--mixed with the look you had on your face when he opened the door left a feeling in him no human had stirred up in him before.

When you came into his study after the event, he saw you with your head hanging low, eyes sullen. He had to control himself to keep him from smiling. He only showed you a cold expression, crossing his legs in his chair behind his desk as he waved you over with one hand.

“Come here.”

His demand sent a shiver down your spine, and your face burnt up as you obeyed his order. You stood right next to his side, looking deep into his eyes as his glower burrowed into your skull. You noticed a box in his lap, red, covered in a single ribbon. Lucifer finally let his tart countenance fall, a smile on his face. He held your chin in his hand as he made you look at him. He stroked the lid of the package with one hand before gracefully opening it. Inside laid an assortment of chocolate covered strawberries, each pristine and neat. You blinked. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as you thought the contents would be.

“What is…” you stammered, trying to look for words to express your confusion, but Lucifer’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you lose your voice immediately, your face starting to almost share the shade of some of those strawberries.

“Your...punishment,” Lucifer explained. “Believe me, I had something else planned, but then I thought, if you helped make me look so cute in strawberries, how about I do the same thing to you?” Before even giving you a chance to catch your breath, he placed the box on his desk, reserving the space for you. With a hand around your wrist and the other on your waist, he pulled you into his lap, relishing your little gasps as you tried to get some air in your lungs.

Everything about him was making you squirm, his rich voice, the slight bobbing of his knee as you remained on his legs, his eyes flickering a deep crimson. To make things worse, he helped guide your hands behind your back, his hand big enough to reach around both your wrists. Your heart was racing a thousand miles a minute, your head going dizzy and light. One hand keeping you bound, the other one grasping one of the treats from the box, holding it tauntingly at your mouth. He brushed it across your lips, the look on his face telling you that what he was putting you through was sweeter to him than any dessert.

“Be a sweetheart and say Ahh.”

Mammon

Dessert: Lemon Tart

Description: A classy little pastry that’s a great mix of zesty citrus and sweet custard that sticks with you despite being surrounded by a flaky crust exterior. The bold flavor along with the gold and white motif makes this a good match for the greedy second-born.

As much as his brothers wanted to see him embarrassed, even he was surprised to feel...proud of the thing resembling him on your device. You made something of him. It may have been demeaning and overly cutesy, but you really took time out of your day to make something about him. Something that made you happy and that you appreciated. You didn’t make fun of him and tease him about it, you had planned on keeping it a secret for you to enjoy.

He dragged you away, both of you headed out of RAD, past stores and shops that he usually took you to, and instead headed into a popular Devildom bakery. Everyone in the shop swiveled around, and you couldn’t help but try to hide your face as Mammon shouted enough to be heard two stores over. He demanded the best lemon tart money could buy. Despite the other demons waiting, everyone hustled to get what Mammon needed. They knew who he was, and if he didn’t get what he wanted when he asked for it, there would be worse things to worry about.

“Mammon, slow down.” You were starting to get out of breath from all the running around he was doing, refusing to let your hand go. He had you and you couldn’t say otherwise. You realized the path you both were on now was heading back towards the House of Lamentation. As you slowed down due to exhaustion, his impatience kicked in, his wings spreading from his back as he swooped you off your feet, pressing his body deep into yours as he flew the rest of the way.

He didn’t stop moving till both of you were inside his room, slamming the door behind him. He crawled onto his bed with you still clinging to his neck, his knees by your side. You heard him undo the package the tart had come in. He made sure you watched as he bit into it, the crust crumbling, some of the custard lingering on his lips.

It was hard to stay focused, but you dropped one of your arms that was around his body, ready to grab a piece for yourself, but he stopped you, his irises glowing a dark gold behind his lids. He used his hand to direct your arm back to its place around him. His eyelashes fluttered as you instinctively latched onto his hair. His gaze had you so enamored, you didn’t notice his horns now sticking out of his head. He got in close, very close, close enough that your noses were almost touching and all you could smell was sweet citrus.

“Do you want to come try some?”

Levi

Dessert: Mochi Ice Cream

Description: A small round treat consisting of soft sticky pounded Mochi with cold and flavorful ice cream on the inside. It’s able to change color and flavors to adapt to people’s moods and preferences to make sure people like them. Perfect for the envious otaku.

He was used to seeing characters like those, but he never thought you would make him into one. He was equal parts embarrassed and envious. The way you looked at your phone like that over a fake digital character, the same way he often did. He could do that, but when you did it, it tied his insides in knots.

He still couldn’t get it out of his head, so later that night, he headed to your room, a bowl of treats in his hand. He would show you that, for once, the real thing was better than any 2D picture. When you opened the door, he stormed in, causing you to back up to keep him from bowling you over. He was in his demon form, his tail flipping back and forth. His face was flushed, but he was determined.

He backed you up to the bed, forcing you to sit down, still confused by the rush of actions happening in rapid succession. He looked down at you, his cheeks tinted pink, his tail brushing against the skin on your arm as it curled around your body, the scales as cold as ice.

He picked up a Mochi ball, placing it in his mouth, his orange eyes swimming with something other than envy. This was one of the only times he wasn’t shying away. He leaned close to you, preventing you from leaning back away from him with his tail pinning hard against your back. He pressed the soft ice cream against your lips, waiting for you to take it from him like one of his favorite Pocky games. You could feel the tip of his tail wagging against your shoulder blades, expectant.

You took the treat from him, puncturing through the mochi with your teeth only to feel the nerves of your mouth freeze as the ice cream came through. With one of his fingers, Levi helped pop the rest of the mochi in your mouth, a look of sweet satisfaction spread over his face. You shuddered, the ice cream and his cool scales sending a cold chill down your spine.

He wrapped you in his arms, the boldness melting away like the ice cream in your mouth as he leaned into your body to keep you warm.

“Don’t look at anything like that other than me.”

Satan

Dessert: Mint Brownie

Description: A hot and powerful tasting treat that not only has the bitter sensation of dark chocolate, but the strong and flavorful mint. An array of tastes under the simple and calm looking brown dessert matches the demon of wrath perfectly.

He was angry, which was the expected response. The way Lucifer and his other brothers teased his sticker form. It took a lot of control to not fight them off right then and there, destroying your D.D.D in the process, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. He was angry at you for making it, but also...he felt something else. He stormed away from the group, making his way home. You felt guilty, but decided to try to give him some time to cool off, but he had other plans.

He called you to meet him when he got home. As you approached his door, you couldn’t help but smell something sweet coming from his room. As you came inside, you smelt the strong scent of chocolate and mint. It filled your nose and overwhelmed your senses so much, you didn’t notice Satan standing right behind you. He wrapped you in his arms from behind, and you could feel his tail curling around your ankle.

“Here, have these.” He presented to you a plate with a single brownie on top of it, a thin layer of green frosting over the surface. They must’ve been fairly fresh since they still were giving off waves of heat. “I made them for you, since you think I’m so sweet.” You could feel his hot breath right near your ear as he curled his lips into a smile.

They were still so scorching, they almost burnt your fingers, but you picked a corner and shoved some in your mouth anyway. It was deliciously dark and minty, the temperature and flavor making your eyes water. The tail around your leg wound tighter as one of Satan’s hands came to brush away your tears. His boa around his neck tickled your skin, giving you goosebumps.

“Satan?” You swayed, overwhelmed by the heat coming from the pastry and Satan’s body, you were unable to tell which one was burning you more right now. He held you tight, keeping you planted in place. He used the fingers that had touched your face to pick up the rest of the brownie on the dish. He brought it up to you, and while you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his eyes staring you down.

“Go on, they taste best when they’re this hot, trust me.”

Asmo

Dessert: Cupcakes

Description: Undeniably sweet in every sense of the word. Soft cake, fluffy icing, not to mention you can use whatever filling or toppings you want. You can dress it up and make this dessert as fashionable as you please, the flawless comparison to flashy fifth-born demon.

He thought it was adorable. He was flattered you’d made sure to make him look as amazing as possible. He was sickeningly sweet, but something about the way you looked at your phone made his heart flutter. He had a plan. He was going to do a comparison, and you would be none the wiser.

Already he had everything prepared by the time you got home. He hunted you down and dragged you to his room, not giving you a chance to say no. As you entered, everything hit you at once. He had a plate of cupcakes on his nightstand, white cake with pink frosting. Asmo was almost glowing as he came over to get you one. You looked him up and down, noticing he had changed his clothes to make himself resemble the treat he gave you. A pink top, white bottoms, he even wore a pearl necklace and matching bracelets to resemble the pearly beads on top of the frosting.

“Asmo…” You hesitated, knowing he was up to something, just not quite sure what yet. Or even if you did have an inkling of what he wanted, it still left you breathless. He just looked at you with begging eyes, and you sighed figuring there was nothing wrong with eating a cupcake.

You peeled the paper off the base slowly and watched as Asmo blushed, getting closer to your body. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him as you opened your mouth to get a good bite of the dessert, making a happy little noise when you tasted how delicious it was.

“Yay, yay, my turn!” He came over quickly, making you back up against his bedroom door as he stared you straight in the eyes as he took a bite of the cake in your hands. He took a finger and curled it around your hair. Your face turned bright red. “Lets keep going, I don’t like to waste things.” You kept taking turns biting your own end of the cupcake, watching it get smaller and smaller as your mouths were getting tauntingly close. When there seemed to be only one bite left, he made a little whine. “Aw it’s your turn, you win.” He let you take the last bite, some of the frosting depositing itself on your lips.

Asmo let you press your back deeper into his door as he got even closer, his lids heavy. His wings and horns now exposed as his lips got closer to yours.

“Time for me to check which one is sweeter.”

Beel

Dessert: Pancakes

Description: Not your typical form of dessert, but with its fluffy texture and satisfying nature, it’s capable of being a good meal for any part of the day. With stacks upon stacks, it’s a great match for the demon of gluttony.

Just seeing how you dressed up his little likeness made him hungry. He wanted to eat everything he saw, in fact, it was a miracle he hadn’t eaten your D.D.D. when he had it in his possession. All he could think about was making something like that with you. You made everything taste so much better, if he could let you finish making it anyway.

He dragged you to the kitchen once the two of you got home. There was a little spring in his step, being the happiest he had been in a long time as he watched you mix the batter. You had to order him to stay put to make sure he didn’t eat it before it could even get in the pan. He watched you move around the kitchen, and you could’ve sworn you watched him almost drool as he looked you dead in the eyes, not even at the stove.

It was almost like art the way you placed the pancakes on his plate, and as you turned around to get yours, he had already downed his in a single breath. You figured he’d do something like this, but you weren’t ready for him to watch you eat, him licking his lips every time you opened your mouth.

“Beel, do you want these?” You slid your plate towards him, only having taken a few bites of the syrupy cake.

“No, I want you to eat.” He slid his own chair around the table to be seated right next to you, legs touching. His response left you stunned, your mouth just slightly ajar in your shock. His gaze turned bright, snatching your fork away from you. “Ah so you want me to feed you, I can do that.”

Your little cry of a protest was muffled as he placed the fluffy pancake in your mouth. Some of the syrup escaped down your chin and he wiped it up with his forefinger before licking it clean. He hummed to himself in glee.

“So delicious.”

Belphie

Dessert: Hot Chocolate

Description: A hot beverage consisting of sweet chocolate and creamy milk. It leaves you feeling warm and cozy after drinking it, coaxing you to take a nap. It’s simple to whip up and quick to make, an easy comparison for the demon of sloth.

He wasn’t sure which one had left him more irritated, the fact that he thought you were messaging someone that left you giggling, or the fact that a digital image of him was. Either way left him exhausted, but restless. However, he wasn’t someone to let something go. He always felt like he had to get even. He wouldn't be able to get any sort of sleep till he ensured you looked as cute to him in real life as you made him on your phone.

So, when you came back home from RAD that evening, he was already waiting for you. How he had gotten there faster than you was a mystery. He was laying on the steps, still in demon form, clutching his pillow in his hands. As soon as he saw you, he was up faster than you had ever seen him move. With a twitchy tail, he grasped your arm and dragged you to the attic, the place he always seemed to take you when he wanted to be alone with you.

“Belphie, what’re you?”

He pointed to the bed, glaring pins and needles at you. He wordlessly watched you sit on the bed in confusion. You glanced to a small table and noticed that there was one mug on it, steam emanating from the top, the smell of sweet chocolate drifting through the air. He strided over to the mug, picking it up in his hands before doing something you weren’t ready for.

He came over, placing himself in your lap, knees pinned to your sides, towering over you as he pressed the warm mug to your face. You immediately flushed, and you watched his top lip twitch as he prevented himself from smiling.

“Too hot?” He droned. He brought the cup to his lips to gently blow at the drink to make it ‘cooler’ for you. It didn’t stop you from burning up. His tail came up to brush against your cheek as he let the ceramic touch your lips. “Well?”

You parted your lips to let the sweet liquid fill your body, the milky chocolate making you warm. The sight of Belphie staring you down, his tail patting your head as the smirk he had tried hard to contain finally revealed itself. He didn’t stop until every drop was gone, and then he put the drink to the side, using his sleeve to wipe away remnants around your mouth.

“We’re not close to being even yet.”

[pinkhairedlily]

Journey Away From Home...Forever

Prompt: Traitors | A03 link here | Connect with me on Twitter. Happy SS Month everyone! 🌸🍅🥗 @ssskmonth

Before we start, I would like to ask you to play your most heartbreaking song. Because this one's a what-if/a could-have-been, and it's not endgame sasusaku. When I was writing this, I looped Taylor Swift's the 1.

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke said as she healed his and Naruto’s wounds, their arms already cut in half and missing. Her face was a canvas of worry and tears had started to pool in her eyes, but she held strong despite this and focused her chakra on stopping their major blood loss. So far from the Sakura he had known.

“For what?” She asked through her strained voice.

“For everything.” Her eyes met his and he knew, somehow, that he was already forgiven long before he even uttered his apology. Ah, it was the same Sakura, the same loving, accepting, open-arms-welcoming cherry pink-haired Sakura, the only girl he ever truly looked at and the few ones he cherished the closest.

The tears started to roll on her cheeks just as she finished healing them, and it caught him off guard all of a sudden – the way Naruto reached out to wipe one side of her cheek and the subtle way she leaned into his touch. Sasuke looked away, his eyes finding Kakashi, and his former teacher’s expression basically gave it all away.

Sakura was in love with Naruto, and he with her, as it has been from the start.

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

He recuperated the whole week in the same room as his best friend, and this brought him back to old times except that he was missing the peeled apples on his bedside. If it was any consolation, she treated them equally during routine checkups with Tsunade and Shizune and during measurements for their artificial arms.

But she visited Naruto alone one night when it was already nearing dawn and the curtains were drawn between their beds. He saw her silhouette with her hand on his head and she leaned down for what seemed like a kiss, and a slight pang engulfed his being. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but it felt just as painful as the flames of amaterasu. He never knew what happened after as he tossed the other way, sparing himself the sight of her.

He missed the peeled apples on his bedside.

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

It was the first time he was alone with her, and it was a sad sight really – he was in a hospital gown with hair that already reached his shoulders while she looked immaculate. The white robes fit her perfectly, her hair tied up in a bun, the diamond seal on her forehead, and the glint of a silver band on her ring finger. Again with the unfamiliar pang.

“How’s the arm?” Her jade eyes looked at him expectantly.

Further inside his layers of emotions was a dormant beast kept in a large cage to freely sleep or roam until it decided to wake up. The noise was loud, banging inside the walls of his façade. Was it anger? Was it the urge to yell at Sakura and ask why she didn’t wait for him? Was it directed at him for wasting too much time and for being a coward right now?

Yes, he was stupid. He tried to kill her, and he was a traitor. He left her when she asked him to take her – twice. Yes, he was stupid to ask the questions he knew the answers to.

Sasuke moved the artificial arm for her. “Not quite fit, I think.”

Sakura softly removed the contraption, her fingers accidentally touching his skin, and maybe if they lingered a second more, he would have grabbed her and just held her with time suspended. But he didn’t, he remained unmoving, watching as her brows furrowed, and as she mumbled to herself while checking the computations on the board.

That same afternoon, he slipped out of the hospital, only to be greeted by Naruto at the gate who was ironically still in his hospital gown. “And where are you going?”

“You need a group of anbu to stop me,” Sasuke replied. He didn’t have anything with him, nothing of importance, and so he was ready to go and disappear.

“I would be enough this time.” The blonde smugly beckoned him over to a bench. “I need to tell you something.”

Sasuke sighed as he slid into the space beside him. “I already know so spare me the details.”

Naruto chuckled to himself, shy but proud at the same time, and then he stuttered over his next sentences. “Well, is it all right with you? I mean – you had history and all.”

Sasuke shrugged, not remembering any good moments, except for the time when she stopped Orochimaru’s curse at the Forest of Death…..when she prepared rice balls for him in their early genin days and she used sugar instead of salt….when she made reckless decisions to protect him during their missions….when she summoned him from the other dimension during the war and slumped against his embrace. “We don’t have history. We don’t have that kind of bond. She has that already - with you.”

Naruto sincerely looked at him, probably looking for slight indication of emotions contrary to what he said, but Sasuke knew that his friend already knew.

Thankfully, Naruto didn’t press. “It just happened. Maybe it was the void you left and the sadness we both felt. I hope you didn’t feel like I betrayed you.”

“Naruto,” Sasuke stopped him. “Just promise me one thing. Please protect her happiness.”

“You dumbass. I know that already.”

“You’re the dumbass.”

“Quite the dramatic. Tell that to her yourself, you idiot. Are you afraid you’re gonna cry?”

“Do you want me to pulverize you? Shamelessly flirting in front of me. I can try and kill you again.”

“Please, we’re not starting another war because of a girl!”

An amusing arm wrestling ensued on that bench, followed by laughter and further jostling.

“We love her that much, huh?” Naruto asked aloud.

“Hmm.” Sasuke agreed, letting the wind carry the unspoken words to its recipient. Yeah, I love her that much.

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

“When you walk out of here, you know you cannot go back, right?” Kakashi asked, arms crossed in front his chest. Sasuke heard he was gonna be the next Hokage. “From here on out, Uchiha will be listed as terrorists and a step inside Konahagakure will mean death.”

“Lord Sixth,” he tried the name. “That suits you, Kakashi-sensei.” Sasuke smirked at him one last time before walking away from the village’s gates.

“Are you sorry I’m the only one seeing you, kid?” Kakashi called out, but Sasuke just waved his hand.

“Sasuke!” Her voice rang out in the expanse of space, and for a moment, he heard the same pang of pain in his name. His feet halted on the ground, hesitating to turn around and lose his resolve. She briskly walked to him until she was in front of his sight.

Pink hair undone, tear-filled eyes, and quivering lips. She hugged him with an abandon, and before he could think rationally, his arm went to her back, pulling her closer for the last time.

“Please stay safe,” she whispered against chest. “For me.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity but was a mere minute. She was the first to pull away, but he was thankful for the few seconds she stood still – it allowed him to memorize her face, the loving expression she wore solely for him. And then she was gone, his fingers frozen, unable to do the expression of love only he knew.

The first step was heavy, like lead, the next couple even heavier, but he trod on to a lonely journey away from the place and people he called home….forever.

uploading early because i'm mostly out tomorrow! this is the last of my....prepared pieces. let the gods of creativity possess me for the rest of the month!

[eagle-feather-2014]

BakuDeku SFW: “Turned to Stone”

The garden was always quiet. Too quiet really. It used to be loud and full of such life. The garden is as green as ever, make no mistake of that, but the birds and deer that used to visit have forgotten their way, and the butterflies and bees that brought fresh pollen to keep blooms bright have forgotten the pots and ponds, and the fireflies and crickets have forgotten to keep nights magical. Quite frankly, it seemed that everyone and everything had simply forgotten the garden. Forgotten him.

His feet pad softly across the grass, the lush blades caressing his soft skin, thanking him for remembering them. The morning air was crisp and cool, the ocean kissing the mainland and sending it a front of salty breezes. How he missed the sand between his feet when he would take him there. The playful licking of the gentle waves across his ankles. The endless expanse of ocean stretching to the horizon to flirt with the sky. It felt like a lifetime ago. Perhaps it was…

He wanders aimlessly through the garden, following the weaving paths of cracked and crumbling cement. The shin high walls that lined the paths were being encroached upon by the soft, dewy moss that crept higher and higher on their sheer faces, relentless in their attempt to overtake the man-made material with their natural façade. Little warrior plants, they were. Like the Spartans, abandoning creativity and intellect for mindless conquest. The fools. It was no wonder they fell. He smiles at the thought. Humans and their propensity for war… it was tragic, but it was so familiar to him. The rough, bellowing voice that yelled obscenities and declared himself the victor remained so clear in his ears, even after years of their absence. He brushed scarred fingers across the rim of fire blown clay pots, designs carved crudely into their faces with the tips of arrows. Illustrations depicted battles and wars, beasts and battles so grad he could only imagine their reality.

The wind blows by, making the reeds creak and clatter together in a ballad to break the silence he had become so accustomed to. He was very lonely, if he were honest with himself. No one dared enter the Gorgon's garden… Not since the loss of the village hero. A fiery young man with no fear… He charged into the garden, shield and sword in hand, no armor to speak of, confidently asserting that he, this boy, was the land's greatest hero, and that he would put a stop to the monster's reign of the garden that once fed their village. A silly child. He was wholly unprepared to charge up to a mere child like himself. The men were afraid of a young boy with a messy green mop of hair that snakes protruded from, idly busying themselves with their interactions with the boy they called their host. He was so small and frail, draped in plain white garments that fit far too loosely. A gorgon youth, lost and on his own. His wide emerald eyes were kind and frightened. Statues of the men who tended to the garden were strewn across the property.

The child cried out for a mother that he had strayed from, and the warrior stared. The child shrieked at him to avert his gaze and leave him be. A monster so young… They did exist. Like a snake without fangs, he was so pitiful as the boy approached. The shield was raised between them as the brat thrust a hand out at the fallen crybaby. "Get up! Why are you here?"

Gentle fingers took the outstretched hand, mumbling a teary-eyed gratitude. "I got lost… I didn't mean to hurt them… I was hungry…" Sniffled broke up his thoughts as he voiced them.

"Well you can't stay here!"

"Why not?" Why not indeed. What was the harm? Gorgons were great with nature, and the child was lost and owed them a debt for taking their farmers. Perhaps he ought to replace their labor with his own.

"Because you're a monster!"

"A monster?"

"Yeah!"

"What's a monster?"

Oh gods… How silly the whole thing had been. A child warrior marching out after a monster alone, only to meet a lost child who knew no better and meant no harm. How the pair became friends, neither were sure of themselves, but a kinship blossomed, and the gorgon child was tasked with the care of the garden, providing the village with the food he grew. He stayed in the garden, and he only had one visitor, the boy with messy golden hair like the lions of the colosseum and eyes red as the blood that he spilled in battle as he grew older, tougher. He would be at home in Sparta, but he was here, the hero of the little rundown village with a "gorgon problem." The boy was brave, and he only got bolder as years passed. The child had a friend, and the warrior had someone he could pick on without the adults scolding him.

So he came, a cloth tied tight around his head, covering his eyes, learning the lay of the garden like the back of his hand with the child's help. As he got more familiar with the paths and lay, he no longer needed those small, work worn hands to hold his as they walked, but he never spoke up about that fact. In fact, as they grew older, their touches increased in frequency and intimacy. This boy could kill him with a look, but the danger didn't deter him in the slightest. He laughed like honey and his fingertips brushed so gently across his skin that it awakened fire within the warrior.

Now, the garden was empty, and no visitors came, not even the wildlife. He passes the statues of the gardeners every day and his heart bleeds for the families he hurt. Children never saw their fathers again because of him, but he could not bring himself to dwell on it for too long. He had been a child, startled and unfamiliar with the power he possessed. They meant no real emotion in his heart.

Warriors lined the courtyard, stone bodies poised to fight, forever unable to. It had been such a terrible day, and he knew that their statues meant more families without fathers. Again, he could not dwell nor did their stir emotion in his chest.

No, the only statue in this garden that stirred despair and heartbreak sat on the wall overlooking the fields, feet dangling over the ledge several feet above the fields below. A surprised look adorned his perfect face, one that the child had never seen in flesh until the moment it no longer was. The yelling of warriors approaching had made him lift the blindfold… and their gazes met incidentally… Now the only friend the Gorgon had known was just another statue, cracked and beginning to strain to remain whole after years of weather. Tears welled and fell freely when the boy visited the warrior child that he had loved so dearly. He would hug the stone and wish it would warm into flesh… He would patch and fill cracks in the stone to try and keep him whole a while longer… He couldn't bear it if he ended up truly alone again.

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This piece is inspired by onesmoljas’s art:

 https://www.patreon.com/posts/turned-to-stone-39493122?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copy_to_clipboard&utm_campaign=postshare

If you enjoyed this piece, consider checking me out on Patreon! 

https://www.patreon.com/EF2014

[aerinsfables]

📝7️⃣🙇‍♀️

:) :)

Flower Shop AU, part 7 below.

Read part 6 here!

---

That had to have been one of the most energetic games of volleyball Bracken had ever been involved with in his life. Granted, he hadn’t actually played volleyball since high school PE classes, but still. The amount of banter which had gone between mostly Seth and Warren had been quite amusing to observe, and when Tanu joined in on the teasing, it became even funnier.

Warren had claimed a partnership with Tanu as soon as he reached the net, which left Seth with Bracken; a mistake, Bracken thought, which Warren would not soon forget. Seth and Bracken were a pretty formidable team, and they found their balance with one another very quickly. Bracken had always possessed a natural talent of quick reflexes and good coordination, and it appeared that Seth was similarly inclined. They worked well together. Tanu and Warren were both also good at the game, but were not always on the same page with each other, which led to Warren diving into Tanu’s shins once and Tanu knocking heads with Warren another time.

He had to admit, this was nice. The camaraderie, the friendly teasing and banter, the smiles and obvious love each of these people held for one another… it was nice.

Perhaps Father had had a point about it being time for Bracken to come out of his shell.

“20-17,” Seth announced as he served the ball across the net. Warren returned it, Bracken popped it over again, and the ball was passed back and forth several times before Tanu just barely missed it and the ball landed on his side of the court.

“Boo,” Vanessa yelled from where she sat. “Warren, I thought you said you were going to kick Seth’s butt.”

“Working on it,” Warren replied. Tanu fetched the ball and tossed it back over to Seth so he could serve it again.

“You’re not doing a great job,” she replied.

Warren turned around and pointed at her. “Why don’t you come join us, then, Miss I-Can-Do-Anything-Better-Than-You?”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed and she turned to the others who were still around the unlit fire pit. “Anyone else want to join in? Mara? Dale? Kendra?”

Kendra started to shake her head no, but Dale stood up and planted a hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Some exercise will do you good. Besides, we can’t let them think they’re better than we are, now, can we?”

A semi-smile crossed Kendra’s face, and she stood up. Dale gave her a quick hug and walked toward the net with his arm around her shoulders. Vanessa and Mara followed behind them.

“Who’s joining whose team?” Seth asked.

“I’m with Warren and Tanu,” Vanessa announced. “Mara’s with me.”

“That leaves us with Seth and Bracken,” Dale said. “My heart is broken, Vanessa. I thought you loved me.”

“Oh, I do, sweetheart. Somebody has to babysit your brother, though.”

“I do not need babysitting.”

“Sure looked like it from where I was sitting,” Vanessa replied.

Bracken deeply enjoyed all of the playfulness around him. Kendra had been correct when she’d told him that her family was a lively bunch.

“Welcome to our normal,” Kendra mumbled as she walked over to him. She wore a tired smile on her face.

“I am very entertained,” he admitted. “Are you alright?”

She replied with a sort of half shrug. “I don’t really feel like playing volleyball right now, but Dale is right. We have to kick Warren’s butt.”

Seth gave Kendra an enthusiastic grin and called to the other side of the net. “Did you hear that? Kendra just said we’re gonna cream you all.”

“Kendra should put her money where her mouth is,” Warren retorted. “Serve the ball, Seth!”

—————-

Lunch was ready before their game ended, and all parties had opted for food in lieu of continuing to play. Both teams had achieved roughly the same score up to that point, which was pretty exhilarating; it had been a very long time since Bracken had played a competitive sport, and he’d enjoyed the experience.

His phone alerted him to a new text message while everyone was eating lunch and chatting with one another. He gave it a quick glance, typed out a reply, sent his message and placed it back in his pocket.

“Is everything okay?” Kendra asked. She sat opposite from him at one of the picnic tables which had been set up on the deck. Scott and Marla shared this particular table, and the other attendees sat at additional ones.

“Yes, everything’s fine. One of the farms my family purchases a lot of flowers from likes to set up stalls at a local farmer’s market on Saturdays, and with Mother’s Day coming up in a couple weeks, they’ve asked for help with creating bouquets that weekend. It’s something I’ve helped them with for the past few years,” he explained.

“Which market?” Scott asked.

“It’s downtown,” Bracken replied. “Not too far from the flower shop and Warren and Dale’s café.”

“Oh, the one on 2nd Street?” Marla asked. “I like to go there to buy fresh produce. I don’t remember seeing you there before, though.”

“I usually only help them on Mother’s Day weekend,” Bracken explained. “Otherwise, I work in the shop on Saturdays.”

“Which farm is it?” Marla asked. “There are two or three different ones I can think of that sell flowers every weekend.”

“Bluebell,” Bracken said. “They usually have two or three stands in front of their tables where they put finished bouquets for customers to choose from, and their event tent is a light blue. It’s a family-run business as well. The parents and I put bouquets together all morning while the other son and their daughter handle the money and customer service part.”

“Interesting,” Scott stated. “I’m guessing their stall is pretty busy that particular weekend.”

Bracken nodded. “It’s their busiest day. Bouquets are purchased as quickly as they’re made. It’s typically a pretty busy weekend for our shop, as well, but the difference is that my family’s store receives probably 95% of our orders in advance of the holiday, whereas Bluebell creates and sells on the spot. It’s easy for my parents to handle the few customers who pop in that Saturday for quick arrangements. In exchange for our help here and there, Bluebell offers discounts to my family on the flowers we purchase from them.”

“A business move,” Kendra supplied.

“Yes,” he agreed. “We’ve worked with them for many years now. They’re practically family at this point.”

“Well. We might have to come visit you that weekend, then,” Marla said with a smile. “I don’t usually buy flowers, but it might be nice to grab a bouquet for once.”

“I buy you flowers,” Scott corrected. He sounded perhaps a little wounded in Bracken’s opinion.

Marla waved her hand at Scott. “I know, dear. I meant that I don’t usually buy flowers,” she said. “It might be nice to choose a bouquet for myself.”

Ruth walked up to their table and patted Scott’s shoulder. “Elise is here,” she announced. “She brought an assortment of little desserts. You four should go get some before Seth finds out.” Scott and Marla laughed and followed Ruth back inside the house.

Bracken looked up as another woman, presumably Elise, stepped out onto the back porch. She wore a loose-fitting tank top which showed off the tattoos on her upper arms, a studded nose ring in one nostril, and her hair was a stylish undercut on one side of her head. He remembered what Kendra had told him about Elise dating Mara, and he found it interesting that such different people were attracted to one another. Mara was much more conservative in appearance, and also seemed a little standoffish (at least to him, anyway), whereas Elise exuded very welcoming vibes.

Kendra smiled when she saw her. “Elise!” she called. She stood up and embraced her.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Elise said. “How are you doing?”

Kendra shrugged. “I’m fine. How are you? You look gorgeous. I love your hair!”

“Awww, thanks,” she replied. “It’s not totally done yet. I want to get it dyed, but haven’t decided on which color I want. Maybe orange.” She made eye contact with Bracken. “I’m Elise,” she said, and held out her hand to him in introduction.

“I’m Bracken,” he replied as he also stood up and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” she replied. She quickly looked him up and down, then whispered into Kendra’s ear loudly enough for him to hear, “Where’d you find this handsome man?”

His face started to warm up at her words, and he averted his gaze to the table. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for people to remark on his appearance, but he felt a little awkward about it whenever it happened.

Kendra cleared her throat. “Bracken made the bouquet I sent you a picture of last week. He’s one of the florists from the shop across the street from Warren and Dale’s place.”

“A man with creativity and a little sass, hmm? I approve.” Elise nodded her head. She then laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird. Mostly. If you’ll excuse me, though, I need to go hug the rest of my people.” She bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times before she gave Kendra one more hug and ran off toward her girlfriend.

A small laugh escaped from Kendra, and a fleeting thought of how pretty her genuine smile was ran through Bracken’s head. “She seems nice,” he said.

“She is,” Kendra replied. “She’s like a favorite aunt, or cousin.”

“Elise brought dessert!” Seth shouted from the other side of the deck. He let out a loud whoop of excitement and ran for the kitchen. Bracken laughed.

“Grandma was serious about getting some before Seth takes it all,” Kendra warned.

Bracken shrugged. “It won’t hurt me to forego a little sugar. I don’t mind. Today.” He smiled. “Would you like some? I can fight him for a piece of cake for you.”

That elicited another genuine laugh from her, which broadened his own smile. “Thank you, but I’ve eaten roughly my weight in ice cream this week and should probably refrain from further sugar consumption as well.”

He wanted to hug her, but wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate it. Instead, he placed one hand on her shoulder and said, “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

Kendra’s face reddened and she looked like she might suddenly start to cry. She turned toward the lawn and hugged herself, but didn’t otherwise respond.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he immediately apologized, distressed at the thought that he might’ve caused her distress.

She waved a hand at him. “Not your fault,” she said. “It doesn’t take much these days. You’re right, I know you’re right, but I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay to be sad,” he replied. “It’s okay to be angry, hurt, and upset, too.”

Kendra looked back at him with watery eyes. “Are you a therapist?” she teased with a weak smile.

He laughed a little. “I have four sisters, remember?”

“Right,” she giggled. “I feel so crazy right now. One minute I’m laughing, the next I’m crying, and now I’m laughing again.”

“Sounds pretty normal to me,” he said. “I don’t think I’d be much better off if our situations were reversed.”

She looked down at her feet with a soft smile. “Thanks.”

Vanessa walked up at that moment and wrapped an arm around Kendra’s shoulders, then glowered at Bracken. “Is he bothering you?” she asked Kendra while clearly staring at him.

“No,” Kendra said. “I’m just an emotional wreck.”

A short ‘hmm’ was uttered by Vanessa, who continued to glare at Bracken.

Her crystal clear and plain-as-day mistrust and what felt like hatred was really quite uncomfortable to endure. Before he had the chance to ask her what her severe dislike of him was founded on, seeing as they’d just barely met, Warren stopped by and pulled Vanessa away from Kendra.

“There you are,” he said. “I was looking for you. Elise was just telling some story about a ridiculous customer of yours from the other day. Why didn’t you tell me about him? The dude who insisted on misspelling a word in his tattoo design, then got mad when it turned out misspelled on his skin?”

She rolled her eyes. “That was Elise’s customer,” she corrected.

“My bad. Maybe you should come over and make sure I understand the other stories she’s telling.”

A sigh escaped her. “I know what you’re doing,” she said to Warren. She squeezed Kendra again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m alright,” Kendra replied. “Bracken is being kind.”

“If you’re sure,” Vanessa answered. “You know where to find me.” She narrowed her eyes at Bracken once more, who was starting to feel more than a little annoyed by her attitude.

“I’m watching you,” she told him.

Bracken sent her what he hoped was his best unimpressed expression.

Vanessa shook her head at him, then turned toward Warren. “Go ahead, take my overbearing ass away from here.”

Warren shot an apologetic look at Bracken before he escorted Vanessa back toward Elise, Mara, Dale and Tanu.

“She’s been a little protective of me this week,” Kendra explained. “Sorry about that.”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay. She doesn’t have to like me. I would’ve appreciated a chance for her to get to know me before deciding that she hates me, but that’s her problem, not mine. I can’t please everyone.”

Kendra blinked. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“If she hated you, she would’ve sent you back to your car and told you to never come back.”

Bracken shrugged his shoulders again. “It’s alright. I can deal with being disliked. I just wish I knew what I’d done to warrant it.”

“You didn’t do anything. She’s just being protective,” Kendra said. “I promise.”

He decided that he didn’t want to carry that particular subject any further. “Understood.”

An awkward silence fell between them for a few moments, and then Seth reappeared on the deck from the kitchen with a small plate stacked high with an assortment of mini desserts. He made his way over to them, apparently unaware of what had just happened with Vanessa, and announced, “She brought cheesecakes and brownies.”

“Did you take them all?” Kendra asked as she gestured toward his plate.

“There’s some left,” he replied. “I couldn’t stack anymore on top without them falling over.”

“Sugar addict,” Kendra teased.

Seth faked being wounded in his chest. “Kendra. My sister. You’ve hurt me.”

“Do you deny it?”

“No.”

“Well then, there you go.”

“I can’t help it,” Seth said as he chewed on one of the brownies. “Sugar is delicious.”

Bracken and Kendra both nodded their heads, then Kendra stole one of the tiny cheesecakes from Seth’s plate and popped it into her mouth.

“Hey!” Seth protested. “Get your own!”

“I can’t help it,” she replied. “Sugar is delicious.”

Bracken laughed as Seth held his plate over his head while Kendra also laughed and tried to reach it.

——

Read part 8 here!

[prettywordsyouleft]

Yellow Bells

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x reader

Genre: florist au / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: this is for the lovely @mrkimyugyeom​ for her birthday today. Thanks to the anon the other day who mentioned the florist! concept, I realised it fits this present for my dear friend perfectly. Thank you for everything you have done for me over the last year, Nora! I’m so grateful for our friendship Xxx

Word count: 2136

“Are you sure you can manage on your own, Yugyeom?”

He nodded, ushering his parents eagerly to the exit of the store. “Mum, I’ve grown up in this shop. I’m pretty sure I know every type of flower in here from your little songs you sing as you care for them. Go, I can handle it for a week.”

“He’s right, darling. The florist will be here when we return from our vacation,” Yugyeom’s father assured, tugging his wife outside. She turned to look forlornly at Yugyeom.

Or, probably the row of baby azaleas behind him.

“Make sure you water-”

“I will and I’ll feed those in the tropical part and check the temperature for the lilies and honestly Mum, I can handle this.”

She reluctantly nodded, stretching to place a kiss on his cheek as she hugged him. He waved his parents off as they drove away for their first vacation alone since he was born over twenty years ago. And as soon as they were out of sight, he stepped back into the house of flora and slumped visibly.

Sure, he wanted his parents to have a good time. And he wasn’t exactly lying; he had spent more time within this florist growing up than in the apartment above it.

But Yugyeom wasn’t born possessing a green thumb like his parents. He was even somewhat affected by pollen and since his mother was deeply attached to her flower children, he had only minded the store a handful of times.

“I can do this,” he reaffirmed, nodding his head and slipping his hands deep within his pockets, eying the succulents’ table carefully. “We’ll do this together, right guys?”

He then grimaced, wondering how his mother could speak so fondly to everything in here without any problem. So, maybe he wouldn’t be singing the bushes down the back to sleep as he locked up later on.

But he’d at least be able to keep the store running for the next five days.

Hopefully.

The first day started well. Yugyeom followed the pages of instructions his mother left behind for him to follow, the step by step guide foolproof. He managed to serve a couple of customers and take an order for next week for an event when his mother would be back to make new intricate arrangements.

But that was where he was failing the most. Staring down at the stack of cut-offs lying on the decorative paper he had chosen, Yugyeom groaned out loud. There was no charm to the arrangement he had made. They all clashed and he knew even he wouldn’t buy this to give to anyone.

“You need a different colour palette to balance out all this pink,” you called and he glanced up, his breath getting caught in his throat.

You smiled politely and pointed to the flowers. “You have pink roses, pink tulips and pink carnations. Monochrome is nice but I think if you changed the carnations for a white, it would make the arrangement more interesting.”

“I can do white,” he slowly replied, soon grinning at you. “Thanks!”

“Anytime. I have an order to pick up under the name Y/N,” you stated and Yugyeom nodded, turning to the computer to look up the details, keeping you in his peripheral as he did so.

You glanced around mindlessly. “Mrs Kim isn’t around?”

“Nope, she’s on vacation this week.”

“Oh so you’re Yugyeom then,” you commented and he stopped looking up your order details, blinking rapidly at the fact that you knew his name. You chuckled. “Your Mum talks about you a lot.”

“Really? Are you sure you didn’t hear her say Yellow bells instead?”

You grinned. “I sense some jealousy here. The plants will be offended.”

“You really do know my mother,” he retorted with a breathy chuckle, hiking his thumb in the direction of the storeroom. “I’ll just get your order.”

He returned with a bag of fertiliser and some seeds, sliding them up onto the top of the free counter space. After ringing up your order and accepting your card, Yugyeom then held onto it a little longer than he should. You eyed his lack of action curiously.

“So white?”

You nodded. “White. Don’t stress too much, someone will buy them.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one jealous of flowers,” he teased when he handed back your card.

“Who knows, if it’s still here tomorrow, I might buy it.”

“You’ll be back tomorrow?”

Shrugging, you reached for your purchases. “Perhaps.”

Yugyeom waited for your return the following day. He had managed to empty out the clearance table to a kind elderly couple, stacked the new batch of supplies that arrived just before lunch and even got a start on another mediocre bouquet of flowers when the jingle of the bell over the door made him look up and find you walking inside. He dropped the roll of ribbon he had been fumbling with and then yelped when it landed on his foot.

You laughed. “And a hello to you as well, Yellow bells.”

“I’m going to regret saying that to you yesterday, aren’t I?” he grumbled, bending down to retrieve the ribbon. When he stood back up, you were holding his first arrangement. Yugyeom sighed. “You don’t have to.”

“Why not? I want to be the first person to have one of Yellow-”

“I swear, Y/N if you keep it up!” he cut in with a hearty laugh, your own soon joining his. When the moment was over, Yugyeom then waved you off. “You can have it.”

“Well, I plan on that.”

“No, I mean, for free.”

You grew curious. “Don’t businesses require financial backing?”

“They also require creativity and some sense of pride in their work. That sad bunch has neither. I can’t expect you to buy it.”

“I will. And I will continue to keep buying them until you have just that!”

“What did you say?”

“Ring it up for me, Yellow bells.”

By the fourth day of your regular appearances to the florist, Yugyeom was certain of two things. One, he really liked you. There was just something about you that captivated him and he wanted to talk to you endlessly. Even if it was all about the species of one plant family, he was certain he would listen to every word you said.

Secondly, he knew his mother was behind all this.

“She told you to come and check on her babies, didn’t she?” he asked pointedly when you appeared, looking rather inconspicuously at the indoor houseplants section.

“Who?”

“My mother,” he said and you smiled. “I knew she didn’t trust me!”

“She does actually, like I said, all she talks about is you, Yellow bells.”

He clamped his eyes closed momentarily to clear out the nickname that he was growing rather attached to and then rounded the counter, coming over to your side. “Then why are you turning up every day?”

“Have you made another arrangement yet?” you wondered and Yugyeom rubbed the back of his neck, nodding shyly. “Where is it?”

“It uh, it sold.”

You almost looked upset. “You’re kidding me! Then you’ve done it!”

“I think the old lady felt sorry for me. Something about going home to pretty it up in one of her fine vases.”

“Well, your colour choices are improving so you never know.”

“What’s the deal about you anyway? You always talk about colour.”

You grinned. “I study colour theory at the local university.”

“Huh.” Yugyeom moved over to look at a baby fern, inspecting its leaves. “You’re majoring in art?”

“Business management. I just take it as an extra paper.”

“What’s the end goal for you then?”

“Really?” you asked, biting at your bottom lip as you grinned. “Is Yellow bells interested in where I end up?”

“I’d laugh if it was a florist.” Your eyes sparkled as your lips twitched and Yugyeom gaped at you. “A florist?!”

“I’ve been helping your mother make changes to the business marketing part of the shop for three months now. So it would be this florist.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“You moved out, remember.”

“You know too much,” he breathed and you nudged him.

“Not everything.”

“Enough,” he lamented and moved back to the counter in a slump. “You’ll come and work for the family and then you’ll not see me for anything more than Yellow bells then.”

“Were you hoping I’d see you for more than that?” you questioned, unable to hide your intrigue.

“I’m glad the old lady bought the bouquet now.”

“You’ll just have to make me another one,” you concluded, heading towards the door. You stepped out, only to stick your head back around the corner. “Make sure it doesn’t sell before I get here again tomorrow.”

Yugyeom was discouraged. With the knowledge that you were being primed to join the family business, he couldn’t see how this would separate him enough from the son of your future employer. He barely said a word to any of the plants as he locked up that night and grunted in greeting the following morning. He only had to get through today. Tomorrow, his parents would be back and he would be able to return to his apartment downtown and forget all about the way you smiled whenever you called him your preferred nickname.

The day felt like it was dragging. He completed all the morning chores, ensuring the plants that needed watering or fed an enrichment mixture had been checked off his list before he approached the arrangement station. Yugyeom had gathered an assorted bunch of flowers earlier in the morning. There was nothing special to them, just cut-offs that didn’t seem to fit in with others. Together, however, they seemed aesthetically pleasing. Choosing to wrap them in simple brown paper to enhance their beauty, he placed the bouquet into the front stand, going back to working on some multi-coloured roses.

The doorbell jingled and he didn’t even look up. He knew it was you.

“Afternoon flower babies,” you called out, sounding just like his mother. He huffed petulantly, trimming off the excess stem of the rose he was readying for the arrangement. You were soon in front of him. But instead of greeting him with his nickname, you didn’t say anything.

Yugyeom looked up to see what was wrong, his eyes narrowing when he found you staring at something in awe. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You made this?”

“Oh them? Yeah, I felt sorry for them since they didn’t match with their other batches so I put them all together. It’s a bit wild, huh?”

“I love it,” you confessed shakily, blinking a few times. You then glanced up at him and he could see how moved you were. “It’s beautiful, Yugyeom.”

He was overwhelmed. He hadn’t expected this reaction to the bouquet, or within himself. Your words bounced around his insides, shooting off spikes of warmth. He was certain he was madly blushing and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh uh, well.”

“I can’t buy this,” you murmured, still clutching the bouquet despite your statement. Your eyes searched his and Yugyeom eventually grinned bashfully.

“Good, I can finally gift you some flowers, Y/N.”

“One of many bunches, I hope.”

“You forget, today’s my last day here.”

You faltered. “You don’t plan to visit?”

“Well, yeah I come and see my parents most weekends.”

“Then you can make me some flowers then.”

“You won’t be here every day, will you?” he wondered, trying not to stare at you too much. He felt there was more to what you were expressing and his palms started to sweat as he thought over what next to say. “You… you wouldn’t come here looking for me, would you?”

“I have every day this week, haven’t I?”

Yugyeom frowned. “That’s because of my mother’s-”

“Actually, she just asked me to come in on Wednesday. I was curious and couldn’t wait until then.”

“Curious about what?”

“You,” you confessed, burying your face into the flowers you held to hide your expression. You then gazed up at him once more at ease. “You’re kind of handsome, Yellow bells.”

He sighed heavily. “It was going so well.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it,” you mused and Yugyeom laughed.

“I’ll need to come up with a nickname for you then too,” he announced and you tilted your head to the side.

“You seemed so sure we wouldn’t be crossing paths after today.”

He grinned. “Didn’t you say I needed to make more flower arrangements?”

“I did.”

“Well, I’ve got some new ideas. I need to try them out when I come by. Since you’ll be here, after all.”

You seemed to bloom then, brightening up entirely. “Well Yellow bells, I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

_________________

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[yeoldontknow]

Colour Show (M)

Author’s Note: happy birthday to my heaven and heart, the music in the dark, the light of the universe, the glow of the stars - park chanyeol. this fic has gone through 4 title changes, 6 iterations in word count length, two plot changes, and about two years of insecurity and uncertainty from me. this is just a word for the wise: dont ever give up on your WIPs. they will always have a home, even if you think theyre a lost cause <3 | this work is entirely an act of fiction. it features subjects which may be uncomfortable to read, including but not limited to: non-traditional and indecent sexual acts, sex in public spaces, and themes of voyeurism. please do not read this story if any of these themes make you uncomfortable or you are under the age of 18. Creative Content Contributor: @chillingkoo​ who made this utterly stunning banner for my birthday because she is an angel ;~; Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female)  Genre: smut; public sex; DJ!au; romance; au Summary: While out at a night club, the DJ catches your eye. He’s confident, enraptured by the music he creates, and glows beneath the lights. With your eyes on him, the world begins to fade. But little do you know, he has his eye on you, too. Rating: NC-17 Warnings: explicit sex; public sex acts; mentions of drug use; masturbation; fingering (female receiving); themes of voyeurism; dirty talk; unprotected sex; creampie; explicit language Word Count: 10.5K

Hours in, the only thing you can truly feel is the heat. 

Against your skin, it presses - all consuming and overwhelming and aggressive in its effort of making a home of you. Inside and out, even against the malleable tissue of your lungs, it lingers, the sweat of your body stinging as it rolls down your arms and your neck. Bodies are pressed together, your body against other bodies, foreign and comfortingly unfamiliar, their closeness helping you reach transcendence. 

For one night, these men and women are your lovers - you see them as such, even if the technicality of semantics means it is not true. Symmetrically and asymmetrically, it does not matter, so long as you can touch them, feel them press against your core, teasing. All that matters in this moment, skin to skin contact with endless, nameless faces, their own flesh making you feel wet with life. Hand to the wall, a gentle chill spreads across your fingers, refreshing and rejuvenating the movements of your limbs. This kind of breeze is vital between the joints of your knuckles, just as is the vodka that slowly dries on your lips. 

Hugging your body against the concrete, you stand with your eyes closed and lips parted, tongue dragging along the flesh to fight back your thirst. Your hips grind in time with the beat, smearing your shape and essence into the paint - you imagine the wall is breathing, imagine your sweat leaves stains and it swallows them whole, hungry for the taste of you to linger on its tongue. Beneath your clothes, your skin is slick, glistening beneath the lights, the glitter from your cheeks dotting the paint to birth constellations of ecstasy. 

With anxious fingers, you tug at the fabric of your dress, the sheerness of the skirt sticking to you like a second skin. It’s been dampened, either by sweat or stray drops of vodka, clinging to your flesh ceaselessly. Wrinkling your nose for a moment at the feel of it beneath your fingers, you continue to roll it up, exposing the length of your thigh, rustling it back and forth to cool you.

Coursing through your veins is an energy, a live wire that seems to have been torn from your nerves and moved to live inside your blood, plugging into your sternum to dictate the rhythm of your heart. It’s the music that does this, the music and its hypnotic beat. From your position against the wall, you eye the platform upon which the DJ works, a lonely god and the maker of it all.

Even from this distance you can see the tips of his ears peeking out from under the headphones, the flush at his cheeks swallowing every light whole and turning him into something radiant and gold. It’s foolish to want him, foolish to eye him as though you are possessive, have been granted permission to be so, as though he might want you, and as though he is somehow yours.

From the moment you entered the building, you felt the music within your pulse, hauntingly familiar and hauntingly mimetic. Something about the way he looked, something about the way he spun records, something about the way he seemed to exhale the sound, made you needy. When you saw him, you realized it was not the music but he himself who lived inside you.

He was the one who built this version of your spirit, with practiced hands and a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He was the one who rearranged all your soft pieces until you decided you wanted him, you needed him, and little other than your sensual destruction would suffice. 

He was the one that made you crave a great undoing, and for this you were delighted.

Snaking a hand beneath the hem of your dress, you ground your feet into the floor and press harder against the wall, keening against it with reckless abandon. In this kind of all consuming dark, the music drips down and deep into your soul, sugary sweet and not unlike syrup, and you release a small whimper of pleasure as your fingers scratch against your thighs. Heavy bass rolls around you, decides to make a home of your ribs, and the vibration against all these fragile corners makes wetness pool between your legs. 

Biting your lip, you turn and open your eyes to watch the DJ, watch the way his hands fervently make the world, powerful and paradoxically delicate. Everything about the noise of him is synthetic, records spinning with knobs and computers, and yet he remains the most authentic thing about the space.

Around you, people have made themselves into the shapes of people they wish they could be, that they would like to be. Tonight, they have made armor of tight clothes and painted lips, but he exists beyond their orbit. Black shirt and jeans, he’s simple, hiding in plain sight and making sure that he is noticed. 

He makes sure he is wanted.

And you want him. Oh, do you want him. 

Watching him feels like kissing candy, sweetness without the purity, and you drag your tongue across your lips once more as your hands tease the line of your underwear. Briefly, your lip curls to reveal your teeth, a threat of wanting to all who dare approach you, before they clamp down, cheeks twisting your expression into a pleasurable sneer. 

You’re wet, soaked just from the sight of him, but you can  see his hands from this angle and that makes it easy to pretend it’s his fingers that slip under and drag along your slit. It’s his fingers that seek your heat and learn you, know you, become a master of you.

Again, you whimper at the touch, smile impishly and keep watching him, glad your sighs are being swallowed by the music. No one can hear you, no one is even paying attention to you, and it makes you feel like this space belongs to you. 

Like this, this space and this man are yours.

Across the room, atop the stage platform, Chanyeol watches your display in his peripheral as he works. Pursing his lips, his tongue laps eagerly on the lollipop sucked between his teeth, imagining the sweet wetness on his tongue is yours. It takes concentration not to let his gaze wander up your legs and thighs, to where he can see the dark outline of your hand. He’s drawn to it, to your center, starts to think of it as a golden ring of purpose, and lets the blood rush to his groin as he imagines his fingers joining yours. 

Thoughts race through his mind at a speed he’s not used to experiencing outside of a high, the adrenaline rush of wet lips and wet fingers enough to make anyone feel drunk. 

He wonders how wet you are, wonders if your fingers are slick already or if you’re merely teasing. He wonders if you’re high, if you’re only this brave because the molly or the angel dust have made you feel limitless or if this is just another Saturday for you. Are you used to being hungry for skin and flesh, or is this all his? Are you hungry, just like him, for something a little more? Something a little more alive?

He’s got a lot of questions, and he grits his teeth on the lollipop stick to keep himself focused. 

At this distance, he can see the way the light plays on your hair and skin, the smooth expanse of your chest glistening and glowing. Part of him feels envious of how liberated you are, remembers how he too used to come to clubs to get fucked and get high until he decided to make a home of it. Now, the thrill has started to fade, wet women and coke covered teeth too common to really seem dangerous. Now, he works through it, totally sober and drunk only on the bass he makes himself, gets hard beneath the narcissism of it all and doesn’t feel ashamed. 

And, if he’s honest, you’re the first exciting thing he’s seen in months. 

It’s when you bite your lip that he finally lets himself smile, doesn’t care if the expression is a give away because you’re too lost with yourself to really notice. He’s sure your fingers are in deep, to the knuckle judging by the way your hand seems to disappear and your eyes fall closed. This is when he calls you a chameleon, thinks the way you subtly take on the shades of the lights is something unnatural, something bewitching, a power you keep locked within your core. Turning up the treble, twisting the knob with the same affection as he’d curl his finger inside of you, he decides you were made for this: for the dark, for the sweat, for the music, and, thus, you were made for him. 

Lots of women have fit this role, but tonight the bill is yours.

You look good like this, wanting and waiting and fucking your hand. Still, he thinks you’d look better on top of him.  

A hand claps him on the back, sending his body arching forward slightly, though it does not interrupt his rhythm. Mostly, he finds he is upset he has been interrupted in his astute observation of your display, irritated that he has to look away. 

‘It’s two, mate,’ a gruff voice shouts, pulling one of his headphones off. ‘My turn.’

Chanyeol simply nods, let’s the beat run and closes his laptop so Joel can take over. He doesn’t bother to pack up his things, knows his manager will take care of it, knows that his manager is probably used to this behavior - the detachment that follows him from one club to the next, and the way he seems to find himself a warm, pliant body the moment he steps off stage. He does not dwell on how his manager feels about this, about the bodies and the bumps of blow that seemingly line his bedroom, and he does not particularly care. Tonight, all he cares about is the warm flush on your chest and the way your body arches in time with the music.

Tonight, all he thinks about is how it will feel to have the whole length of his cock buried inside you, and little else. 

Chanyeol takes his time approaching you, slows his steps and orbits around you like a lonely, hungry moon. Tucking the lollipop into the side of his cheek, he shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the opposite wall, having his fill while filling himself with thoughts. You appear to be his age, wearing the number like a badge of honour in the corner of your eye; old enough to be in command of your body, in command and beautifully aware, but still young enough to get off on the risk. 

Greedily, his tongue swirls around the lollipop, lapping at the flavor with vigor, and he imagines his tongue pressed between your folds, sucking at you with the same intensity. With your head thrown back, your fingers probe at your center, doing what his tongue does not, ass pressing back against the wall in an almost violent swivel before you run a hand through your hair. Your fingertips hit someplace deep inside, some unfathomable depth buried in the center of your core, and your lips pull into an ecstatic smile, laugh swallowed whole by the roll of bass and the timbre of an electronic drum.

At the sight of you in pleasure, he feels lonely, a heady need taking over, creeping down his spine and pushing his shoulders back. He’s used to this, used to the way desire puts tension in his neck and makes the base of his spine start to ache. To prying eyes, hollow eyes that move over him slowly through the haze of cocaine, he’s animalistic in his advances towards you, but to him, he’s simply under your spell. There’s a strength and purpose to his steps he usually forgoes for a casual grin and an impish glint in his eyes, but then, he assumes, you’re different if only because you’re bold - if only you ignite in front of him like a match. 

The lollipop falls slightly from his lips as he watches you pull your hand away from your core to smell your fingers. Lips parted with wanting he watches you, tongue wet and mind filled with visions of sucking at your clit with the fullness of his lips. Coloured lights move over the slick shimmer of your fingers, and he imagines you to be sugar sweet and bitter at the root.

Chanyeol doesn’t hasten his steps, rather he takes his time moving towards you, waiting to see if you’ll taste yourself for him. He expects that you will, is delighted when you do, and knows that he will likely taste just as good to you.

He bites down on the lollipop, chewing the candy as he tosses the stick to the floor. The lollipop dissolves, but it’s sweetness remains.  

Acutely aware that you are being watched, the delicate hairs on your arm stand on end at the feeling of a body approaching, thick lidded eyes opening only slightly to see the tall shadow of a man come into view. You don’t pause for him - if you’re being removed from the premises, you at least want to come before you leave. But the stranger doesn’t speak, just looms over you with a lopsided grin, one that is neither accusatory nor satisfied, simply luxuriating in your show. 

Recognizing his ears in the dim glimmer of the lights, you smirk, silently pleased that you have become a magnet, that you have somehow lured him from the pedestal your desire, and your pussy, placed him on. Drawn to one another, you angle yourself towards him, an open display of interest. Cocking your head to the side, you smile, but do not stop the motion of your fingers. You want to make sure he sees. 

Somewhere in the distant haze of your kind, you wonder if he’s drugged, high on something other than music or blow, something hard enough to make his posture so sure and confident. It doesn’t take long before you realize he’s simply drunk on lust, much like you. There’s no bloodshot tint to his eyes, no lazy gaze that wanders from one warm body to the next. Even with his dilated pupils, you know he’s been blown wide open by longing, by a hardness at his center his jeans that begs to be touched. 

‘I could see you all the way up there,’ he comments, gesturing vaguely towards the stage, though his gaze on you does not waver.

You smile, impish and glorified. ‘Good.’ He smiles back, welcomed by this response. ‘I wanted you to.’

He steps closer, aware now that your focus on him is a mirror of his focus on you, consensual, open, and welcoming. The lights from the club highlight his features, cutting mercurial shapes as they nestle beneath his cheekbones, but even in the dim lighting you can see him clearly. The glaze in his focus is neither empty nor wired, simply hungry, trapped in a state of perpetual craving, and you like the way the slick feel of it makes your skin feel like gold. You like this feeling, the way his eyes mean to unmake you, as though he is peeling back your skin to live inside your ribs. 

You like this feeling, find that it turns you into a kind of phoenix, and so when he stands fully in front of you, illuminated and combating the shadows, tall and just as hot to the touch as you, you let your hands settle at his hips, cocking your head to the side coquettishly. In kind, his hands move to yours, swaying idly, assuming you mean to dance with him. He’s being polite, and you wish he would tighten his grip, let his fingers press bruises into the flesh with intent, but you remind yourself not to rush. 

So often, you spoil the moment with your natural prosperity for impatience.

Still, the motion and movement of his hips is invigorating, encouraging in its closeness. Strengthening your grip, you press against him, grinding into him, slow and unblinking. On contact, he lowers his head, and you take this as an invitation, letting your lips fall to his ear, breathing hot and wet against the shell.

‘I liked your show,’ you murmur, hoping your voice carries above the heavy drum and bass, reaching right down to pull at the intimate pieces of him. ‘You made the beat sound alive.’ 

Tilting his head to the side, his lips and nose graze along your temple as he speaks, a heady combination of amusement and surprise lacing through his words. ‘I could say the same to you,’ he teases. ‘I’m surprised you were listening.’

The low rumble of his voice catches you slightly off guard, deeper and richer than you would have imagined it to be, powerful in a way that commands your attention. It drips, not unlike chocolate and honey, down your tongue, making a home in the center of your ribs, the warmth of it settling in your belly and making your thighs clench around nothing. You feel your breath hitch, lungs constricting at the gravel in the underbelly of his tone, the thickness and the vibration resonating suddenly making you feel parched. 

‘I felt it,’ you say, curling your lips into a pout that gently touches the lobe of his ear. ‘Isn’t that more important?’

It’s an honest statement, one that makes him start without pulling away completely. Instead, his grip on your hips tightens, drawing flush against his groin, keeping you in place. Something about your words had an effect on him, enough for him to mumble a small growl of possessive vulnerability. This close, you can smell him, the music of his cologne delicately kissing the crevices of your tongue. Over time and through the night, it’s mixed with the natural scent of his sweat, enough to briefly make you lightheaded by the force of it, moaning at the intensity. 

Pieces of you ache as you pull back slightly, regarding him with heavy lidded eyes; pieces that long to be touched and long to be near him, his mere presence making the air feel thick. Beneath his skin, you imagine the blood moving in his veins like wildfire, exhilarated by your words. It fascinates the way you don’t just merely see the corner of his mouth turn upward, devilish and playful in its slow reveal of his desires, but you feel it. All over you, you feel it.

The heat of his smile walks down your spine, building a wetness between your folds that makes you bit your lip. His own gaze wanders over your skin, over your cheeks, down your neck and shoulders, to where his hands linger at your hips. Matching his smile, coy and coquettish, the knowledge his gaze as lowered, as best it can, to the curve of your ass beneath the hem of your dress makes you feel emboldened. And so you grind against him, slowly, handling your hips to rub over the hardened bulge beneath his jeans. 

Licking his lips in approval, a tight moan rumbling through his sternum like thunder, he lets his eyes wander back up to yours, lingering momentarily to admire the plump fullness of your lips. 

Moving one hand from your hip, he comes to cup your cheek, easing your head to the side with a gentle and careful touch. It’s his turn to offer delicate attention to your ear, the touch of his lips barely there, whispers on the wind of primal desire. When his lips move, the softness of the skin sends shivers down your nerves, the strong, confident diction in his voice an erotic experience of its own. 

‘There’s a lot I can make you feel,’ he breathes, hot and heavy and smirking at the way you seem to bend beneath his touch, malleable.

Proving that he means it, that he means everything he says, he pulls back just enough to keep his gaze trained on yours, serious and heated. As though waiting for your denial, he inches closer still, pressing a knee between your legs to part them. The tease of feeling him between your thighs forces a sigh from your lips, and he smiles, knowing. Leaning to drag his nose along the slope of your neck, the even exhale of his breath cascades down your spine and into your core, making your walls clench in arousal.

You don’t hide the way this makes you laugh, the sound loud enough to be heard over the drum and bass. ‘You’re terrible at pick up lines.’

It’s a half-hearted comment, a truth nestled between a lie. Yes, he is terrible at pick up lines, but he is exquisite in execution.

Unfazed by your teasing comment, he joins you in laughter, the deep richness making you terribly aware of the wetness between your thighs. ‘Most of the time, people can’t hear them. They just want to be handled.’

He hangs onto handled as if the word itself is a tactile experience, a physical contact that makes the world around you bend. It seems unfair he should hold so much of you, so much and so tightly, and so you glide your hands along the waistband of his jeans, toying with the hem of his shirt. 

tilting your head just enough to let your lips graze his ear, you scratch your nails into the soft skin that lingers beyond his belt. It's soft, warm, supple, the sweetness of a man so unlike the way his hands clutch at your body. He whimpers slightly at the contact, lips parting to release a small, barely there sigh. Smiling to yourself, you continue your ministrations, hoping this will entice him enough to handle you.

Forming your lips into a pout, kissing at his ear as you speak, you whisper, ‘Then why are you taking your time?’

A dark chuckle rolls through his chest, his grip tightening possessively.

‘Because you’ve been greedy,’ he states, leaning back to regard you with a dark, hungry stare. 

Stepping forward until you are pressed flush between him and the wall, he considers you, gaze dominant and commanding. With slow, teasing rolls of his hips, he guides the hardness of his erection into your mound. Eyes on your skin, he watches the flush of desire that blooms across your chest as he does this, mesmerized by the way it smears itself across your neck, contagious enough to make your skin burn hot. Something about his gaze pierces you, makes the nerves along your skin feel sensitive, stimulated to the edge of a precipice and lingering on anticipation.   

‘And I’m selfish,' he finishes. 'I want to feel you first.’

He guides his hand between your bodies, the base of his palm massaging deftly at your core. With the sudden direct pressure, your hips roll up into his hand, a current of electricity wandering down into the base of your spine. Naturally, your legs part wide, feet sliding across the floor just enough to make room for him where you want him most. 

‘Can I touch you?’ he mumbles, cocking his head to the side as he watches pleasure morph your expression. The force of his palm increases, echoing his sentiment of how badly he wishes to feel you first. 'Can I feel all of you, on the inside?' 

Anyone else, anyone less magnetic or compelling as him, and you imagine you would have laughed at the turn of phrase. On a boy, such questions of permission would have made you laugh, aware that you were dealing with someone who did not know how to read a woman. On him, his politeness and quest for permission feels liberating, placing you in a position of control - leading your pleasure with the power you deserve. 

Nodding, unable to form words, you simply hum, whining at the loss of his hand, lonely and needy for his touch. He keeps his eyes on yours as he lifts his hand to his mouth, sliding two fingers inside, all the way to the knuckle. Not once does he blink, hollowing his cheeks, gaze heated, as he sucks and sucks, gaze piercing. The sight of his lips, pulled down to a soft, full pout, mixed with the anticipation of the strong bone of his fingers, puts a wetness at your core that makes you feel as though you are dripping with eagerness for his touch. Hot to the touch and feeling volatile, you arch your back against, lifting slightly from the wall to let your breasts press against his chest. 

Smirking at your impatience, he pulls his fingers from his mouth and eases his hand beneath your dress. With his thumb, he guides the waistband of your underwear to the side, teeth coming to bite his lip on contact and feeling how wet you are - how wet you made yourself for him during the course of his set, and how wet he will soon make you, teasing your folds apart to make room for his hand. Leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours, he guides his middle finger into your core, one long stroke against your walls that has you gasping.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him and ensuring you are caught beneath the umbrella of his warmth, stimulated and aware, now, by and of nothing but him. His finger continues its slow, deep caress, and you roll your hips into him, the solidness of his finger a bliss you had craved from the moment you saw him perform. Reaching your own arm between your bodies, you cup your hand and rub the base of your palm over the erection trapped beneath his jeans. Growling, he tilts his hand just enough to let his thumb press a slow circle against your clit, appreciative and teasing.

‘Tell me your name,' he whispers, the roll of his voice a live current that cascades down your neck. 

Consumed and swallowed by him, you smile. ‘Y/N.’ 

Your name is a gasp on your lips of pleasure, his thumb pressing at your clit in time with the thrust of his finger. Clutching him a little tighter, you roll against him once more, desperate for the fullness of his touch. 

Almost sweetly, he returns your smile, though the seduction of his intent nestles aptly between his words. ‘Isn’t it nice hearing the sound of your own name like that?’

‘Tell me yours,' you mumble, tongue rolling across your lip to moisten the flesh. 

Distracted, his eyes trace the motion of your tongue and offering you the brief delight of witnessing the thickness of his eyelashes as red and blue lights swirl overhead. ‘Didn’t you see the show?’

Chuckling at the almost innocent egoism of the sentence, you make to speak before he curls his finger in your core, hitting a new angle that steals your breath. Furrowing your brow, you lick your lips once more, gathering the strength and focus to speak. ‘People don’t come to clubs for the DJ.’

He smirks at your coy teasing, presses his thumb against your clit in a firm circle while his index finger comes to settle between your folds, his fingers making a light v shape. 

'Funny,' he mumbles, alluding to the obvious pun but does not say it. Instead, his focus settles on your features as he thrusts both fingers inside you, your moans coming in light bursts. 'My name is Chanyeol,' he clarifies. 'Do you want me to take you home?'

Biting your lip, cup his erection beneath your palm, pressing in time with his thrusts into your folds. ‘Are you a shy boy?’ you question, teasing though not altogether sincere. A pink flush rushes to the tip of his ear, and you pull your hand from his groin to let the tips of your finger gently caress the tip.

On contact, his eyes flutter shut, lips parting on a sigh. ‘Not really,’ he manages, eyes opening once more fixing you with an impassioned stare. ‘Do you want me to fuck you here?’

His free hand moves from your waist, knees bending to pin you against the wall, as he rests his hand against your throat. Like this, he tests your boundaries, watches you with an erotic, eager fascination as you bend and give over entirely to him, your walls starting to clench around his fingers, willing him to remain inside. 

Feeling your skin flare and your gaze darken, possessive and possessed, you swallow thickly. ‘I want you to fuck me.’

Leaning down, Chanyeol captures your lips with a wet, light kiss, his tongue escaping behind the kiss to lap sweetly at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to let his breath tickle your cheeks. ‘Do you want everyone to see?’

The sugar from his kisses settle between the thin crevices of your lips, your tongue flicking out to gather them.

‘You’re used to being seen,' you counter breathlessly.

You grind into his fingers hands coming to grip at his shoulder blades as you feel your orgasm start to settle at the base of your spine, the coil in your belly threatening to tighten behind the fire he has put into your blood. 

Humming in agreement, he adds a third finger, slipping inside you with ease, your wetness coating his palm. ‘Are you?’

Shivering and stimulated by the size and thickness of his strong fingers, you simply nod, clutching to him as your grind into him, desperate. Taking this as a sign of your oncoming orgasm, Chanyeol increases the pace of his thrusts, his thumb tapping at your clit in time with his fingers, forgiving and almost apologetic for keeping you on edge for so long. With the new, invigorated force of his thrusts, your moans come louder, his hand lingering softly at your throat as he bends down to swallow your sounds, kissing your lips deftly and with a deep intensity that provides encouragement. 

Around his fingers, your walls clench, thighs tightening as your heart begins to battle against your chest, the burn of your orgasm making your thighs and legs sting with the effort of keeping upright. Sensing this, Chanyeol removes his hand and replaces it at your waist, his hold strong and comforting. Held tightly against him, his breath all over your skin, his fingers curling at your core, knuckles gliding roughly at your walls, the thickness of this penetration, you find yourself consumed by him. 

Your head rolls onto his shoulder, wet gasps of breath panting into the skin, stimulated and driven to an edge of pleasure that makes your muscles ache. 

'I'm -' you gasp. 'I'm going to come.'

The clenching of your walls comes without your control, the intensity of the pleasure unmaking your semblance of reality as he thrusts and thrusts his hand into you, a promise of something larger, thicker, and heavier. 

Gently, he eases your head back, and you whimper, eyes squeezed closed as you rest against the wall, readying to let your orgasm take you.

'Eyes on me,' he commands, voice rough. The thunder clap of his words as your eyes opening, vision blurred by pleasure. He smiles. 'Eyes on me when you come.' 

The heavy arousal on his voice is what sends you over the edge, your brow furrowing as you choke on a gasp from the force of it. The lights of the club paint his features into kaleidoscope of pleasure, his smile the focal point as sound drowns and the rush of your blood fills your ears. Shuddering, the waves of pleasure course through your muscles, walls clenching tightly around his fingers, the shudder of pleasure rattling your bones until your feel weightless, burned into nothingness by the force and prowess of his touch. Your back arches forward, sending your chest into his, still as you keep your gaze on his, seeing without seeing, the world little more than smears of ecstasy.

Chanyeol holds you tightly, clings to you - the only tangible form your nerves can discern. His grip on you is reassuring and unwavering, keeping you secure against him and the wall as your limbs struggle to regain their strength. Your walls continue to clench around his hand, the aftershocks of your orgasm still igniting along your skin.

'Beautiful,' he whispers, tucking your head against his shoulder and mumbling into your hair. 'I knew it would be beautiful.' 

You cling to him, the air in your lungs little more than a burning ache as you struggle to catch your breath. Against his strong frame, your mind swirls with the tactile feel of him, the smell of his cologne clouding your senses until your world is comprised of nothing but him. Anchoring you against him, you feel safe, comforted, his fingers stilled inside you, ensuring you remain tethered to him.

He's careful as he pulls them out, delicate and fast enough that he does not cause you pain. The affection of this action catches you off guard, makes you nuzzle into his neck, your feet feeling the earth return once more as your bones reform beneath your skin. Not once does he relinquish his grip on you, almost greedy with his touch and holding you close until the strength in your hands returns, pressing into the muscles of his back and shoulders. 

Slowly, the world recreates itself around you both. The heavy bass from the speakers, Chanyeol's breaths against your skin, the throng of people as they talk, yell, dance, clink glasses, the world a cacophonous resonance beyond his arms. 

'Better?' he asks, kissing against your hair as he speaks. 'Can you stand?'

Nodding, you pull back from him, breathing heavily and feeling dazed. The smile on your lips makes your cheeks hurt, painful in the way it seems locked in place, and you’re unsure how long it has been pulling at the skin. 

For a moment, you simply regard one another, Chanyeol flushed and warm, looking pink and heated even under the purple and blue lighting that hits him. He, too, breathes heavily, lifting the hand that had been inside you to his mouth, sucking the fingers once more. Eyes falling closed, he moans at the tastes, hollowing his cheeks to suck them clean. The sight of him pools new wetness between your thighs, whimpering at how sensitive yet needy you are. 

When he pulls his fingers from his lips, he keeps his gaze on yours, heavy lidded and pupils dilated to a blackness that makes your breath hitch. Slowly, he drops to his knees, delicately grazing his fingers up the outside of your legs. Falling back against the wall, his barely there touches make you bite your lip, gazing down your body to him as he watches you with intent. His hands find the band of your underwear, thumbs dragging along the skin of your hips and making you tremble. Gripping the band, he guides them down your legs, nudging at your ankles to ease you out of them.

Licking your lips, you watch as he rises to a stand once more, his own mouth parted. For a brief moment, you see him not unlike a kitten, someone who has been so close to the strong scent of desire, they've opened their mouth just enough to swallow it whole. Bunching the cotton into a ball, he places it in his pocket, and cocks his head to the side, waiting, perhaps, for your words of protest.

It's a possessive thing to do, an action no one has ever done with you before, and while you aren't entirely certain what to make of it, you admit you are relieved the soaked fabric has been removed from your core. The light breezes that makes its way up your skit is refreshing, liberating, and, for this, you are grateful. 

‘Come home with me.’

This, you realize, is not a question. Chanyeol keeps his eyes on you as he speaks, asking to be polite, just like always, but, this time, knowing that you will follow. Wordlessly, you regard him, eyes glassy and feeling yourself still drifting into the world that he has built, just for you. Reality clashes with the universe he has made, a universe of light and bliss and pleasure; a world that smells of wanting and delivers ecstasy, while the world as you know it lingers outside - beyond your reach.

Cold, is how you have come to see it, now. Empty of wonder without his hands to pull it from your bones.

‘I told you I’m selfish,' he continues when you offer him no reply. ‘I want all of you, and I want to be the only one who sees.’

It does not go unnoticed by you that, for two people so enraptured and aroused by sound, music, and sight, the drive to his house is altogether eerily quiet. But this, of course, does not mean the longing has dissipated. 

Confined in the limited space of his car, the world seems to narrows, arousal and longing seeming to seep from the pores of your skin. The leather of the seat, initially, was cool to the touch, but the heat of your body has warmed it, made the flesh of your thighs feel moist with wanting. Your legs remain spread on the seat, aware that your wetness will drip onto the fabric, wanting him to miss you and smell you long after you have departed. 

Chanyeol grips the wheel with a white knuckled determination, eyes trained on the road as you keep your eyes trained on him. Even over distance and time, the fullness of his erection has not reduced. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road while your eyes study the tent in his jeans, wanting to feel the thick, veined heat of his cock pressed against your tongue, mouth and soul full of him. You wonder how he would feel, just as forceful and commanding as his hands; how he would sound, your shy and sweet boy, vocal and loud and yours, begging for release.

‘I can feel your eyes on me,' he announces, words clipped and voice thick, full of a gravel that makes him rasp.

At the sound, your walls clench around nothing, the ghost of the memory of his hand returning once more, aching for his cock, his tongue, his essence, to fill you. He, too, has parted his legs wide, making room for the heaviness of his cock and balls, uncomfortable while remaining steadfast in his urgency to get home. 

‘Do you like it?’ you ask, enunciating the syllables of your words, ensuring he hears the wetness you hold in your mouth, reminding him the wetness you carry between your legs. 

Almost imperceptibly, he nods, swallowing thickly as your eyes trace the motion of his Adam's Apple. ‘You’re making me so fucking hard.’

Impish and almost cruel, you spread your legs wider, knowing he will see the motion from the corner of his eyes. Legs spread, you lift the hem of your dress to reveal the fullness of your core, leaning back into the seat with a prideful grin. 

‘God, I can fucking smell your cunt,' he mumbles, eraser ting his grip on the wheel to keep himself composed.

Cocking your head to the side, you let your hand fall between your legs, running your left index finger over your folds, gathering the wetness. Chanyeol's shoulders tense, aware of this motion, a grin of gleeful pride tugging at your cheeks as you lightly gather more. Carefully, you reach over, letting your finger glide along his bottom lip, smearing your juices over the skin. 

A hungry growl rumbles through his chest, his tongue coming to lick at your fingers he sucks it into his mouth. The wet muscle laps circles over your finger, pulling a light, breathy moan from you as he licks it clean. When he releases it, your hand falls to your side, muscles feeling limp.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers, words drenched with lust, the full force of your wetness on his lips making him breathless. ‘The smell and taste of you is going to drive me crazy.’ 

A fire blossoms in the pit of your stomach, grounding you in the iron core of his words. It’s rare for you to want someone this way - enough to go home with them, enough to let the pleasure extend beyond a single moment of your own pleasure, enough to want to feel more of him. But it seems fair, you think, the resolute notion that he made you this way, used sound and vision to move you in a perpetual state of cosmic need.

He did this, and it’s only right that he finish it. 

The stairs to his flat are crooked, framed by a dimly lit hallway where the shadows on the walls are impossibly tall, lingering seductively on the paint. You’re sure you’re making noise as you climb, awkward and fumbling against his body as you hold him or he holds you, or perhaps you hold each other, soaked and stained now with the essence of one another, and blended into one cosmic whole. You’re sure you are loud but you do not hear your footsteps, ears ringing from the sound of the music and the sound of his hot breath. 

Chanyeol trips on the last step, both of you laughing at a level neither of you can discern but you watch the way his chest heaves as he laughs, watch the way his cheeks turn pink and feel yourself begin to float. Outside, dawn is kissing the sky, painting it gold and blue, but inside, against his door, Chanyeol paints the world in a kaleidoscopic myriad of beauty. It reverberates along your skin, vibrating down to your core and making your thighs clench with wanting. Like this, he is a bright spot, a sun trapped against the frail magic of bones, and the risk of being burned by his hot hands does not outweigh the burn of his tongue against yours. 

The peephole for 6B is rusted, the wood tarnishing from age and neglect, but his door has been painted black, and even in your stupor you fight to suppress a laugh, recognizing his Rolling Stones reference. 

This is usually where people apologize or make excuses - for the state of their flat, for the unexpected arrival of you in their lives; the implication that they always assumed they’d be lonely and longing, all of these things a lie but somehow reassuring in their simplicity. Excited, and therefore encouraging. But Chanyeol doesn’t apologize. You’re aware that he does not need to, that he wears your juices on his lips and fingers, yet you imagine that he doesn’t ever. 

Chanyeol operates outside of expectation, and therefore likely never apologizes for the state he is in when he receives pleasure. 

Upon entry, you are acutely aware that the flat is small, a studio, and it strikes you that this space could barely contain him. It's small, small enough that you cannot fathom the breadth and reach of him would have room here, the full length of his wingspan likely larger than the square footage of the space, but he turns you, pulls you to his chest and steals your lips in a hungry kiss, silencing any further thought in your mind. Languidly, he moves his mouth over yours, cupping your cheeks with hot hands, a fervor that makes his skin hot. In kind, you wrap your arms around his neck, fisting your hand in his hair, rough and hard and needy.

He’s gentle in the way he walks you backwards, does not move his lips from yours, simply moans over your tongue as he wastes no time in guiding you to the mattress and box spring in the back corner. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, his hands move to your hips, pulling you firmly against him, the hardness of his erection pressing into your belly. Even through the fabric of your dress, the heat from his fingers radiates onto and into you, spreading like a fever through your blood. Chest flushed and tight, mind fogged and consumed by the flavor of his tongue as it glides over yours.

The backs of your calves bump against the mattress, staggering you into him just enough for the kiss to break, both of your sighing in discontent. Your vision blurs at the edges while Chanyeol regards you with half lidded eyes, lips pink and swollen. Arousal pools between your folds, dripping over to smear your thighs at the sight of him, trapped in a blissful state of arousal, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. His tongue comes to run across his lips, breathless in the effort of learning to breathe without your mouth on his, and you lean forward, capturing the pink muscle with your lips to offer a brief, gentle suck before pulling away.

Chanyeol raises himself to his full height, and for a moment you find yourself overcome, awed by the length and the power that is carried in the steel of his spine. He’s strong, rigid, and so impossibly soft - warm to the touch yet immalleable beneath your hands, the muscles in his arms and back solid enough for you to consider him your anchor in a storm. Emboldened, he lifts his hands from your hips and grips the hem of his shirt, pulling it over head. Eyes on yours, gaze unwavering, he drops the shirt to the floor, the red smears of desire burning beneath his skin. And, just as slowly, he moves his hands to the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button with a hungry, euphoric stare.

You follow suit,fingers guiding the hem of your dress lightly over your thighs, revealing more and more of yourself to him, a thrill of provocative seduction racing over your synapses as you watch him swallow thickly, captivated by the slow reveal of your skin. 

‘This is unfair,’ you murmur, whispering your dress just over your core, delaying the pull of the fabric overhead. ‘I’m wearing so much less than you.’ 

Chanyeol laughs, a deep rumble that would go unnoticed if your attention had not been entirely tuned to him. Rolling back his shoulders, he cocks his head to the side, considering your words and the state of you - already missing underwear, wet enough to want and need him again - guiding your shoes off with a smile.

‘The shoes count, right?’

You keep your voice innocent, soft and sweet and so unlike. you, a game that you have learned to play and know that he will continue willingly, if only because he has already felt you come around his fingers, unafraid of being witnessed and found.

‘Of course they do,’ he replies with a slight nod, his own voice a gentle caress that raises gooseflesh along your skin. ‘But you didn’t give me a chance to catch up.’

With that, he thumbs his zipper down and flays the jeans open, your gaze dropping to the muscles that lightly carve his hips and the soft patch of hair that leads down below his briefs. Mouth running dry, the muscles in your thighs tighten, body parched and starved for the graze of your teeth over his skin. Your grip around your dress tightens as he eases his jeans down his legs, your focus torn between the erection that springs to full attention and the length of his legs, strong and powerful, hands already imagining the feel his ass beneath your palm. 

Chanyeol steps out of his jeans, kicking off his own shoes in the process, thumbing the band of his briefs as he regards you, lips falling into an expectant pout. 

‘I believe it’s your turn.’ 

Running your tongue over your teeth, you smile, eyes locked on the fire that lingers in his gaze, pulling the dress over head. He hisses at the sight of you, no underwear and the lace of your bra sheer enough for the delicate circles of your nipples to be seen. Slipping his hand beneath his briefs, he nods in encouragement, gripping his cock and easing it over his length, pumping himself as he watches. Emboldened and unshy, you let your dress fall to your feet, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. 

You’ve done this before - countless times with men and boys and people who never really understood how to handle you. But something about Chanyeol’s possessive, unwavering stare makes you feel comforted, secure, empowered. He pumps his cock slowly, admiring you with a focus that speaks of learning, of witnessing the person before you, rather than rendering the curve and shape of their body to a mere tool of pleasure. With his eyes on you, the colours of the world seem to come into full focus, brightened by being the center of his attention. 

Your spine straightens, desire laces itself around places you did not think to associate with wanting - your hips; your breasts, aching for the firmness of his touch; your neck, desperate to be held; the backs of your knees, imagining the gentleness of his caress as he wraps you around the sharp angles of his body. These new aspects of your warning and of your body restructure your perception of yourself, your womanhood. With Chanyeol’s eyes on you, you feel important, sacred, and you chuckle to yourself, a muted, almost reticent, sound he does not seem to notice, bemused that it is in the quiet, morning grey of his apartment that you should feel so alive.

As your bra joins your dress on the floor, he nods to the bed, hand still stroking his cock without urgency.

‘Get on the bed,’ he commands, gently. ‘Show me how you touch yourself.’

Again, something about this feels unfair, his words slithering through your ribs and into your core, still wet and tingling with the memory of his hand. ‘What about you?’

Almost too sweetly for an encounter such as this, he speaks, the weight of his words a contrast that pulls at your nerves. ‘I’ll get mine when I’m inside you.’

You’re aware the smile you offer him is lewd, wet lipped and tongue heavy as your body instinctively puts the sensation of his cock between your walls. Clenching around nothing, you moan at the thought, emboldened and enticed, finding yourself altogether too impatient to take your time. 

Easing yourself back on the bad, you keep your eyes on him as you move, settling on the center of the mattress and spreading your legs wide. Resting on your elbows and cocking your head to the side, you let your left hand fall your core, the pads of your middle and index finger almost leisurely in the tender way they spread your wetness over your slip. Biting his lip at the sight, Chanyeol uses his free hand to guide his briefs down over his hips, pulling his cock free as he pumps himself, enticed by your display. 

The sight of his hardened length makes you feel empty, hollow and hungry and restless, a keening whine escaping from the back of your throat as you slip your fingers between your folds, wanting something as solid as his cock to keep your satisfied. You take your time easing your fingers in and out, pressing your knuckles against your walls and spreading your folds apart for him to watch, and he matches your pace, running his thumb over the purpled head of his cock as he watches your core spread. 

No one has ever asked this of you, asked to see the way you make yourself in pleasure and cared enough to remain poised in the act of witnessing. Neck red and ears burning, Chanyeol works at keeping his composure, and so to do your nails drag along the black cotton of his sheets, keeping yourself calm and keeping yourself from calling his name. No one has ever asked to learn you this way, not with such intensity, the glistening of precum on his tip enough to reassure you that he yearns for you, just as badly as you yearn for him. 

Picking up your pace, you press the base of your palm against your clit, applying pressure without offering too much stimulation, wanting his hand, his fingers, his mouth to be the thing that bring you over the edge. Head rolling back, you feel your fingers get coated with more juices, imagining the way his mouth would feel at your neck, the way his breath would feel on your breasts. Biting your lip, your skin begins to feel taught, nerve endings starting to flare in anticipation of his biting kisses. 

With the ringing of your ears beginning to dim, you hear the way he gasps between the slick sounds of your juices, his breath coming in uneven exhales and your own exhales pulling soft whimpers from the center of your core. Like this, his apartment becomes alive with both of you, the quiet loudness of these sounds enough for you to drown, your hips rolling into your hand, desperate to be full of something far longer than the delicate smallness of your fingers. 

Without warning, the speed of his strokes increases in pace, his grip tightening as he watches the way your pleasure builds and builds at your core and along your neck, nipples hard and pink and painfully ignored. The threads of your orgasm pull at you, tightening within your thighs, your toes clenching and unclenching against his sheets as your own pace begins to increase. It remains distant and far off, a promise demanding to be kept, and you close your eyes, focusing on the erratic, electric shiver it offers you. 

‘Stop,’ comes Chanyeol’s voice, tight enough to break. 

When you look at him, he stands at the foot of his bed, hand off his cock though it remains beautifully hard, eyes full of lust. He crawls onto the bed, a prowl that has you staring him onward and into you, your legs instinctively widening to welcome him home. Wrapping each arm under your thighs, he pulls you to him, keeps his eyes on yours as he uses his nose to guide your hand away, lowering his face until he is close enough to press a kiss to the center of your slit. 

It’s the only warning you have before his tongue glides into your core, the hot wetness of it tearing a moan from the marrow of your bones. His fingers tease slow circles at the sensitive skin of your groin, his tongue curling inside you and making sweat build at the base of your neck. Falling back on the bed, you feel your back arch as he hums against you, letting the low baritone of his voice vibrate into you, rattling loose a pained, needy cry that echoes off the walls. Pulling his tongue from your core, he removes one of his arms and eases two fingers inside you, stretching you wider than he had at the club, his lips wrapping around your clit at offering a powerful suck.

Crying out, your hand falls to his head, your hips rolling up to ride against his mouth messily, carding your fingers through his hair. The same way the dawn between to peek, gold and purple through the window beside the bed, so too does your orgasm, your hips feeling tight and your toes curling into the sheets once more. Your hand falls to your breast, massaging what you can, aching to be consumed and pressed and full, clenching around his fingers.

Feeling the force of your walls around his knuckles, he swiftly removes his fingers and lowers his mouth back, letting his tongue return to your core, drinking you down with an eagerness that makes you feel soaked. You’re dripping - with him and into him, thighs smeared and sheets stained - dissolving beneath the intensity he delivers to every choice he makes, this time your pleasure being his sole focus. His fingers press at your clit and you tremble, shaking and feeling yourself begin to be unmade. Somehow, he has learned your cosmology, learned its genetic make up and learned how to shatter it, his tongue and hand at your core enough to burn you to ash.

Feeling your orgasm build, no longer threads of a promise but the scorched tattoo of desire within your veins, you swallow thickly and gather your voice. ‘Cock,’ you announce, a whimper mixed with a moan. 

Pulling back, Chanyeol stills his fingers and regards you, black eyed and wet lipped, licking you from his lips as he awaits further command. The sight of him, so consumed by you, painted by you, makes you gasp, a thirsty sound that makes you feel impossibly small. 

‘Cock,’ you repeat. ‘I want you inside me. I want to come around you.’

Nodding, he swallows you down and moves up your body, nestling between your legs until his chest is pressed against yours. Breathing deep, he lets his hand caress your cheek before he tilts your head back against the pillow and captures your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue tracing the curved inside of your mouth, ensuring your taste yourself on his tongue. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you grind up into him, his cock trapped between you as you suck at his tongue, drinking what you can while your fingers etch their prints into the soft silk of his skin.

Reaching between you, he grips his cock and positions it at your entrance, tiling his head back enough to watch you with concern. Furrowing his brow, he runs the tip over your slit, a whimper of frustration splintering between your ribs, a pathetic sound that you don’t bother to hide. Chanyeol eases himself inside you, slowly, taking his time to make sure you feel the full length of him, allowing himself to fill you completely as he watches the way the pleasure of this stretch morphs and contorts your features. 

Buried to the hilt, he remains there, keeping still and letting you adjust while he angles himself down, cupping your breast in his hand and sucking your nipple between his teeth. The sudden stimulation as you clenching around him, your eyes widening at the sudden eroticism of the action, and he releases the nub, his eyes squeezing shut.

‘Fuck,’ he chokes out. ‘You’re so tight, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to last.’

Smirking, you roll your hips upward, encouraging him to move, kept on edge for along you fear you may come apart on impact, clenching as you do so. Both of Chanyeol’s hands come to your hips, stilling your actions with a fierce stare that moves directly into your core, hot and severe and so desperately sensual. 

‘Is that how you like it?’ he whispers, regarding you with an impish smile.

He does not wait for your reply, simply guides his hips back, pulling himself out before thrusting back into you in one swift motion. Choking out a moan, your fingers press into his skin, nails scratching hard enough to leave marks as he sets a brutal, unforgiving pace. Burying his face in your shoulder, he pours his moans into your skin, your own moans the shattered, broken gasps of intense pleasure, his piercing thrusts deep enough to send the mattress roughly back into the wall. 

The smell and feel of him makes you feel dazed, your focus narrowing to only him - the wetness of his breath, the force of his thrusts, the press of his thumbs into your hips, enough to leave bruises that will leave you aching for him for days. Legs shaking, your eyes begin to water, your concept of reality starting to dissolve into nothing but the feel of him inside you, the almost painful way he drives himself into you, pleasure burning beneath your skin, mind numb with nothing but the desire to come. 

Widening your legs to take him in deeper, you angle your head back and feel him press against your spot, mouth opening on a silent gasp. In this single moment of ecstasy, you watch the dawn fully break through his window, the first golden beams of morning light spilling over his skin, and for a moment, you feel as though you are fucking the sun, holding fire and gold and magic in your hands, eyes watering as tears of lust and love and pleasure build in your eyes.

‘Can I come in you?’ he asks, biting at your skin after he speaks, his thrusts unrelating in the pace they keep. ‘Can I come - I want to come inside you.’ 

His words smear into nothingness, reaching through the haze of your fogged mind, high and drunk and alive on the pleasure each snap of his hips delivers. The way he asks, the way he blooms, the way he knows how to keep you wired on nothing but him, for a moment you feel not unlike the moon learning how to collide with the stars, seeking their light.

Tightening your legs around his waist you nod furiously against his skin. ‘Come in me,’ you affirm, breathless and lost in space and time and pleasure. ‘Come in me.’ 

Once more, he moves his hands between your bodies, finding your clit with ease as he swirls his fingers in messy circles, tapping in patternless coordination. Gasping for breath, the universe blooms behind your eyes, your orgasm a colour show that brightens the sun, the dawn, the sky. Chanyeol comes alive beneath you, your thighs trembling as you feel wetness spill from you, smearing him and yourself, drenched by the force of your pleasure. Against his chest, you tremble, shattering by the force of his touch and his thrusts.

Inside you, Chanyeol spills, his thrusts shuddering with a violence that feels sinful, the heat of his come spilling into you, warming you, much like the beams of the sun in the morning haze. He moans as he comes, long and thunderous, a storm that breaks against your skin, cosmic and unyielding in its force. Your name echoes off your bones, off the clouds, into the distance as he thrusts and thrusts, slowing with each move of his hips until he stills inside you, panting for breath as you cling to him, feeling vulnerable and so impossibly alive. 

You aren’t sure how long you stay like that, breathing with one another, stroking his hair as he kisses at your neck. Over time, your breaths align, breathing together in a unison that feels harmonious, musical in its cadences. Chanyeol softens inside you, mumbles a soft curse as he pulls out, rolling onto his back not before he pulls you to his chest, keeping the same even rhythm of your breath as you watch the day bleed and break, dawn turning into early morning much too soon for your liking.

Eyes feeling heavy, you feel yourself begin to doze when he inhales sharply, taking the opportunity to speak.

‘I’m gonna think about your face when you come for a week,’ he announces, still gazing up at the ceiling as his fingers stroke idly down his spine.

Smiling, you glance up at him, lifting your hand to trace along the hard edge of his jaw. ‘If you take my number, you won’t have to only think about it.’ 

Taking his turn to glance down at you, you smile at one another, letting the morning and the light carry you. And, in your hands, you hold the sun, the morning, and the music, the waves of the universe vibrating, lovingly, beneath your fingers. 

[unaccomplishedwriter]

THE HERO YOU NEED

. Chapter Two .

- Chapter One here -

if there were ever anyone close to being the personification of perfection, it would be Cedric Diggory.

The older boy was a hit with the first-years, and everyone else actually. He was kind and informative, making sure the younger ones were made to feel welcome and comforted. You watched with interest as he animatedly explained how the Hogwarts staircases worked to the crowd of students behind him, fiddling with your wand as always. Following behind slowly, your mind began to wander as you blocked out the noises surrounding you.

Hufflepuff was a choice you’d made after careful deliberation; their house values most matched what you wanted yourself to achieve as a wizard. You were no stranger to the history of Beauvais wands; their propensity for dark magic contributed to much of the doubt surrounding Seraphina Picquery in her earlier days. But she made her place, as will you yours. Your dream was to become a living counter to dark magic; someone who could strengthen all aspects of magic through extensive study of its usages, dark magic included. Your wand was powerful, and held exactly the kind of power you needed if you were to be able to research your goals as extensively as possible. Magical application was one thing, but learning how magic affected the body as thoroughly as possible would prove to be an invaluable asset to the fundamental understanding of magical power to begin with. Hufflepuffs were similar to Pukwudgies in that sense; their members were often curious and good-natured, usually going on to have careers that were based in care.

After the incident as a child, you wanted nothing more but for others to never have to go through such a thing again, even if you had to study the usage of the very dark magic you were so afraid of.

A sudden emptiness beneath you snapped you out of your thoughts, your body suddenly being jerked back and into open arms.

“Are you okay?” 

Frantically panted the lips near your ear. Your heart was pounding, and all thoughts in your head flew out the window. What on earth happened? Why...

“You nearly got yourself killed! Were you listening at all?” that same voice scolded. You finally snapped out of your thoughts, turning your head only to meet with someone’s chest. Your nose met with a soft, warm and good heavens, he smells like caramel --  neck before trailing upwards, coming face to face with one very flustered Cedric Diggory. Desperately piecing your scattered brain together, you realized that you two were standing just a foot back from where a staircase had previously been; now just an empty abyss that you’d nearly walked right into. 

“I’m so sorry!” you stuttered.

“My mind was elsewhere.” 

“And was elsewhere worth nearly falling to your doom?” he raised a brow. You almost apologized again before you noticed the suppressed quirk of his lip - he was making fun of you. You rolled your eyes and pulled away, only just registering how close you two still were. He let his arms fall from around your shoulders, his hand lingering in your hair for just a moment before brushing it off your shoulder as it fell. 

“Maybe,” you teased, resuming your trailing of the first years, now following behind another well-meaning senior.

“Was I that boring?” Cedric grinned, twirling to face you as he walked backwards. The irony of the boy who just chided you for not watching your step walking backwards just to speak to you was not lost on you, and a mirthful smile painted your lips. His cinnamon-brown locks were swept out of his face, cheeks seemingly forever flushed a lovely red hue. You’d known him for all of two minutes and could already tell he possessed a magnetic charm. He reminded you of one of your friends back at Ilvermorny, Ben, and the smile on your face grew wider.

“Not really, but if you were half as klutzy as you are charming, I’d think I was in the wrong country,” you replied thoughtlessly. You could tell from the confused look on Cedric’s face that the sentiment was lost on him, so you rushed to fill in the blanks.

“I mean -- you remind me of my friend is all. For all the charm that oozes out of Ben, I swear he lacks the same amount of grace,” you sniggered, delighting at the thought of your awkward (yet somehow still immensely popular) friend. 

“You guys are around the same age, too.” you added. 

Cedric slowed to a stop in front of you, forcing you to stop as well. He leaned in close, close enough for you to smell the sweet scent of the chocolate frogs on his breath that he’d no doubt eaten on the train -- before bringing a hand up to rest on your head.

“All I’m getting from that comparison is that you think I’m charming,” he said. Face burning, you brush his hand aside as he lets out a loud laugh, stepping back. You feel him sling his arm around your shoulders as you guys start walking again, a rather familiar act for such a stranger. You found yourself rather comforted by his presence, a welcome reminder of the warmth of your friends back home you’d been missing. 

“Rather familiar already, Cedric?” you ask pointedly. Cedric raises both brows at you this time, tightening his grip.

“I’d say we’re best friends already, wouldn’t you? You even called me Cedric!” he joked.

“That’s because I’m an American,” you rolled your eyes. “It’ll take some getting used to the whole last-name-basis you lot like to use. It seems too...unfamiliar.”

A blast of cool air hit your face as your group passed the Great Hall once again, seeming to come to the end of its tour.

“Well, I’d be glad to be a familiar face for you,” Cedric offered. “First name basis and all...(Y/F/N)?”

You let out a giggle at the questioning tilt of his head, before nodding enthusiastically. 

“Thank you,” you said gratefully. “You don’t need to pity me though. If that’s what you’re doing.”

“Not at all,” he responded. “I think we’re on our way to becoming best friends already, actually.”

The cheeky grin on his face was enough to break down the last of your walls, a smile blowing across your face as well. As you two chattered away, a certain blonde haired boy was watching you from across the hall. Still ~salty~ about your abrupt change in attitude during the two of you’s conversation earlier, you’d been on Draco Malfoy’s mind ever since. And when you were sorted into Hufflepuff house, he’d decided that you certainly would fit in amongst those muggle-loving, tree hugging weirdos anyways. But despite that, he still felt a weird thump in his chest when the sorting hat was finally placed on you; as if it would agree with him that you needed to be amongst Slytherins, where you truly belonged. And seeing you laughing alongside Cedric Diggory reminded him of a few hours earlier, when you were laughing with him — or maybe at him, but whatever — and he also decided he didn’t like that. Draco almost found himself marching over to confront you before he remembered that Cedric Diggory was a full three years his senior, and a skilled enough wizard that by the time his father heard the news he’d have probably already spent a few days in the Hogwarts infirmary, hexed to oblivion. While cursing his age and how it’s the sole thing keeping him from giving you a piece of his mind, Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when you suddenly turned and made eye contact with him. Giving him a large wave, the smile on your face suddenly convinced Draco that he’d do anything to see it again, and any earlier rudeness on your part was thrown out the window. Weren’t you angry still? Wasn’t he angry still? Lost in thought, Draco didn’t notice his friend coming up behind him until he felt Blaise’s hand drop heavily on his shoulder. He flinched, immediately turning his back on the Hufflepuffs across the hall. “What are you staring at, man?” Blaise inquired. “Nothing at all,” he said defensively, moving his body even more in order to block his friend’s view. The other boy looked at him in suspicion before shrugging, wrapping an arm around his shoulders before steering him towards the doors. “Flint’s talking about organizing the tryouts for this year,” said Blaise. “We should go check it out.” Nodding his head along to whatever else Blaise was mumbling in his ears, Draco felt the annoying compulsion to turn around once more. Stifling the persistent feeling, he swaggered out of the Great Hall. But, he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes were still on him or on Diggory.

A/N: this chapter is shorter because as I said in a previous post it’s been sitting in my drafts and I just wanted to get it put out. This is also really more of a bridge chapter. My MacBook crashed so I wasn’t able to write more and I got annoyed with my phone bc I feel like it inhibits my creative juices :( I’ll try and get ch 3 out soon! Lmk if I should create a tag list :)

[kalimagik]

Becoming a Home:  Journey to Hogwarts - Ch. 8

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: Here is the 8th chapter of our series that has been such a joy in my life. I have enjoyed writing this part so much. There is love and fluff and all sorts of cuteness! Huge thanks to @iliveiloveiwrite​, @heloisedaphnebrightmore​, @obsessedwithrandomthings​, and @firewhisky-kisses​ for reading and helping me come up with ideas for this chapter! I hope you all enjoy <3

Series Masterlist

The portal stood open in front of her. Ana had already hugged the other girls goodbye, they were happy to be staying, but going was just for the best. Hermione may have found the citizenship loophole, but she hadn’t seemed to warm up to Ana anymore.

She looked back at the faces that she loved so much. Who knew that a book club could have led to all of this? Even though Des, Kiara, Ellie, and Mel were there, one face wasn’t watching her - Ron. Ana had told him to stay back at the Burrow. She said her goodbyes to the Weasleys there. Only Arthur was with her now.

“Goodbye, Ana,” Ellie spoke again as Ana took a step forward, waving one more time. She could feel the power of the portal and almost see home. It was such a weird feeling. The room across the barrier was home, she should be happy to be going back. Ana hesitated a second longer - was this the right choice? If it was, why wasn’t she smiling?

“ANA! WAIT! Please, don’t go!” Ron bursted into the Ministry room, pushing through those who were seeing Ana off. He was slightly out of breath, signifying that he ran through the entire building to find her. He didn’t stop until Ana’s hands were in his own and he could brush the loose blond hair out of her face.

“What are you doing here, Ron? I told you not to come.” Ana looked past Ron at Hermione, who was in the corner, making sure everything was going smoothly. Her eyes then drifted to her four friends. Despite all being very different people, they were all romantics. They were watching her with wide eyes and pouts on their faces.

“I couldn’t just let you leave,” Ron explained, drawing his attention back to you. “Ana, love, there is such a connection here. I would be a bloody idiot if I let you go. I would never be able to forgive myself.” Ron’s eyes pleaded with her. “Just give me a chance to make your life here amazing - please.”

“I don’t know, Ron. I-I -” Ana tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words. She didn’t want to seem weak in front of him. She was supposed to be a Gryffindor afterall. The portal still spun behind her, Ron unrelenting, looking for some answers. Ana breathed in deeply. “I don’t fit in here, Ron. I’m in the way,” she spoke confidently.

“What are you talking about?” Ron was still completely confused. He thought that everything had been going off perfectly. He was searching her face, trying to find some sort of explanation.

“Ana,” Hermione interjected, stepping forward from where she had been keeping rather quiet. “I know this is Ronald’s moment, but I know that you- uh, heard me a while back - talking to Ginny. I was rather harsh with you, but I can see how happy Ron makes you and you make him.” Hermione looked down at her clasp hands. Ana could tell how hard this was, but could hear how genuine her words were. “You should stay. I’m sorry.”

Ron turned back to Ana instantly. “Please, will you stay?”

“You really want me here?” she had to reiterate more for herself than anyone else. Instead of responding, Ron drew her face to his, pressing his lips firmly against her own. He conveyed everything he couldn’t say with the kiss, not caring that everyone else was watching. “Okay, I’ll stay,” the girl grinned when she pulled away, lips swollen and face lighting up.

-

Ana stood in front of her mirror, clasping a necklace around her neck. She held the pendant tenderly in her fingers, remembering how Ron insisted on showering her with gifts after she decided to stay. Ana made him return the more expensive ones, but he insisted that she kept the little silver necklace with a diamond in the middle of a star. It was now one of her favorite possessions.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Ron grinned, standing in the doorway of their bedroom, looking at her reflection from behind her. Ana could feel the blush spreading on her cheeks as she looked over her dress one more time. “Everyone will begin arriving soon,” Ron informed her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “This evening is going to be perfect,” he whispered, placing a kiss on Ana’s temple.

The doorbell rang and Ron went to let in the first guests. Ana and Ron had just moved into a small house together right outside of London. It may have only been six months since Ana decided to stay, but when had anything about their relationship been conventional.

As a hoard of Weasleys entered the little house, Ana thought about how nervous Ron was when he asked her to move out of the Burrow and into a house of their own the month prior.

-

“Ana?” Ron timidly entered into Bill’s old room.

“Hiya,” Ana giggled, pecking Ron’s lips. “What’s up?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

Ana groaned playfully before teasing her boyfriend. “I thought I told you no more gifts. I explicitly said that me accepting the necklace meant the end of your gifts,” she giggled.

“Well, it wouldn’t be just a present for you.” Ron pulled out a little square box. Nothing like a ring box, but just a gift box. “Go ahead, open it.” He placed the little black box in Ana’s hands. She slid the lid off and flipped over the bottom half, a little gold key falling into her hand.

Ana looked up at Ron with a confused face. “What’s this?”

“It’s been a little crowded in this house recently and I had been thinking about moving out for a while, but I was wondering if you might want to come with me,” Ron looked at the girl sitting in front of him hopefully. The moment she stepped into his life, she changed everything and this was the one way that he could think of to show her how positive a change that was for him.

“Move in with you?”

“I know that it is really fast and that we’ve barely known each other a year, but everything just feels right with you. I love you.” Her breath hitched in her chest as her heart swelled. I love you, Ana and I’m not afraid of it.”

Ana immediately reached up, wrapping her arms around Ron’s neck and pulling him closer to her. “I love you too, Ron,” she beamed before kissing him.

-

“Ana! Our favorite girl,” Fred grinned devilishly, hugging her tightly.

“Don’t you look lovely, dear!” Molly exclaimed, pulling Ana into a bear hug before hugging her own son. “The place looks amazing! You really do have quite the touch,” Molly smiled, looking around the sitting room.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Ana, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Molly? Oh, George! Put that down! You are going to break it!” she scolded, turning to the younger twin. Ana chuckled to herself as the people that became her family gathered in her home, well her shared home.

Ana escaped to the kitchen for a moment to check on the dinner. She didn’t want her first big event to be ruined by a burnt ham. She was soon joined by Molly Weasley.

“I apologize for my boys. They are like having a troll in an antique shop,” Molly huffed, stirring the vegetables in the pot.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Molly,” Ana interjected, “You’re a guest tonight!”

“Nonsense, dear. I will always be here to help. Living with Ronald won’t be a walk in the park,” she laughed, busying herself.

“I am feeling a little nervous,” Ana admitted. “I’ve mostly lived by myself, not with another person to worry about and care for.”

“Ana, sweetheart, I can already tell that you are going to be a natural. My Ronald is in love with you, I can tell when I look at him. His eyes have always given it away,” Molly smiled sweetly. Ana could feel the blush rising in her cheeks, Molly’s words made her heart swell.

“I hope you’re right, Molly.”

“I’ve raised more than seven children, I know I’m right.” Molly affectionately rubbed Ana’s arms before pulling her into another hug. The plump woman could not have hoped for a better partner for her youngest son. She could tell when the two still lived at the Burrow that they would wind up with each other even if it took them a bit to figure it out themselves.

Ron was talking with Charlie when Ginny and Harry arrived,  Bill, Fleur, and little Victoire following shortly. “Blimey! Who knew that Ron could put together such a place,” Harry teased, hugging his best friend.

“You know that I did none of this, right mate? Between her charms and creative eye, Ana put this place together in the blink of an eye. I barely had time to offer to help.”

“Don’t forget that you picked out the kitchen counter and paint. It’s honestly my favorite part of the house,” Ana giggled, coming up beside him, greeting both Harry and Ginny.

-

“Ron?” Ana called from the kitchen while Ron unpacked in the bedroom. “What do you think of this color?” She held a swatch of possible paint colors up to the wall over the cracked countertop. The blond woman sighed, feeling defeated. The entire kitchen needed to be redone.

“Darling, breathe.” Ron could see the look and worry across her face, so naturally his wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.. “It already looks beautiful and this is the last thing we have to do.”

“That’s exactly why it has to be perfect,” she explained, holding the paint colors back up to the wall.

“I like that one,” Ron pointed to a very soft gray. “It will go with the dark blue cabinets and brings out the color in the counter I chose last week.” Ana eyed the color a bit, thinking about their previous choices before a smile erupted on her face.

“It's brilliant, Ron!” She turned in his arms to hug him, excited at the prospect of their home finally being finished.

“I can have it painted by week’s end before going back to work,” he promised. He would honestly do anything to see the smile that graced her face and as long as he was the one keeping it there, he would be happy.

-

The bell rang again and Ron went to answer because Victoire had rushed Ana, begging her to play dolls with her. The little blond had taken a liking to Ana after the first time they met and Ana created an entire world of make believe with the little girl.

“Ana,” Ron called, “Your friends are here! And Remus and Tonks of course!” Five couples noisily piled into the home, each commenting on the layout and greeting the entire Weasley family.

“Merlin!” Mel exclaimed, “it’s been too long, Ana.”

“You really should have stayed in London,” Ellie followed, pouting playfully.

“I don’t know you guys, it’s really great out here. It’s quiet, plus, I think you all are forgetting that we can apparate now. I can see you all seconds after I receive your owls,” she laughed, catching Ron’s eye from across the room. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

Kiara clung onto Neville’s arm. “I’ll pass on that,” she shrugged. “Maybe just a coca cola?”

“KIARA JONES? Are you turning down alcohol? I am shocked!” Ana feigned surprise.

“Bugger off,” Kaira chuckled, clinging on to Neville’s arm.

“I guess wanting a coca cola is acceptable,” Ana teased the dark haired girl, “Anyone else?”

“You know I will take one,” Des grinned widely. “Why don’t Sirius and I actually get those for everyone? It seems that you have another guest.” Des pointed to the door. Before Ana turned around to greet her last guest, she looked at all of her friends again - the friends she came to this amazing world with. They all looked so happy, each with someone they loved dearly and Ana could just see it on their faces.

Des and Sirius laughed at the bar, pouring drinks for the room. Ellie leaned into Blaise while she spoke with Tonks and Remus. Draco had his arm draped over Mel’s shoulder while speaking with the twins. She was laughing so hard at whatever the three boys had said. And Kiara and Neville were just wrapped up in each other. Thank Merlin he had given into her.

“Ana?” a soft voice spoke from the doorway.

“Hermione,” Ana smiled widely, immediately hugging the brunette. “I’m so happy that you could make it!” She held Hermione at an arm’s length, looking her up and down to make sure she looked okay. “You haven’t been working too hard, have you?” she chuckled.

“No, I actually went on holiday,” Hermione beamed. “It was wonderful.”

“Good, I’m glad. Everyone is inside, let me get you a drink,” Ana spoke, leading Hermione to where Ginny and Harry were standing. “Thank you so much for inviting me, Ana. Truly,” Hermione spoke quietly before Ana walked to get more drinks.

Friendship hadn’t come instantly, but over the last few months, Ana was really making an effort with Hermione and now they were much closer than they had been. When Ana showed interest in having a housewarming party, she instantly added Hermione to her guest list. Ron couldn’t be happier than his childhood best friend was now friends with the love of his life.

“Need some help over here, darling,” Ron asked, placing his hand on Ana’s lower back and a kiss against her temple.

“If you could take around some of the entreés, that would be brilliant. Thank you, love,” Ana grinned, handing a tray to Ron.

“I’d do anything for you,” Ron winked, taking the food around to all the chatting groups. Des popped by, handing Ana her drink before sliding her arm around Sirius’ waist, joining Ellie, Blaise, Tonks, and Remus.

Ana took in the sight of all the people she loved so much around her. There was life, happiness, and conversation filling her new home. It was exactly how she wanted it to feel all the time. It filled her heart with warmth.

“Auntie Ana?” Victoire tugged on Ana’s dress.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not you aunt,” Ana tried to explain, bending down to be on the little girl’s level, her navy dress falling over her bent knees.

“Why not? You live with Uncle Ron?” Victoire’s innocence was precious. Ana couldn’t keep herself from smiling at the idea even though she knew that was not coming anytime soon.

Instead of arguing with the little girl, Ana just continued the conversation. “What do you need, love?”

“Do you have any cookies?”

“Mhmmmm, let me think,” Ana pretended to ponder what was in her kitchen. “You know what? I do! But, you have to make sure you eat all your dinner before you can have any, okay? Cookies don’t taste nearly as good if you don’t eat anything healthy before.” Ana laughed loudly at the disgust that appeared on Victoire’s face. “But don’t worry,” she reassured her, “I put a special batch aside for you!”

Victoire’s face brightened as she wrapped her tiny arms as far around Ana as she could before running back to her father and climbing up on his lap. It was adorable. “Someone seems to like you,” Ron cooed in Ana’s ear, wrapping his arms around her waist as if they belonged there.

“Yeah, so much so that she called me auntie,” Ana chuckled, turning in his arms so that she was facing him.

“Mhm, auntie, you say? Maybe we can make that happen one day,” Ron whispered, peppering kisses across Ana’s face, causing her to giggle.

“Not just yet,” she said over her laughter, “Let’s just enjoy this right now.” Ron nodded, kissing her forehead, then her nose, and then her lips.

“I guess I can do that,” Ron rolled his eyes, not wanting to let Ana go.

“Ronald,” she giggled, “we have guests, we should probably get back to them, and-” Ana sniffed, “I think dinner is ready!” Ana pulled away from Ron quickly and he just watched lovingly as she shuffled around the kitchen. Luckily, he was nearby because she nearly dropped the ham after pulling it out of the oven.

Ron placed many tables in a row earlier in order to fit everyone at the dining room table. It was cozy, but no one seemed to mind. Ron hit his knife against his glass after everyone had food on their plates. “How about a toast?”

“Here! Here!” George called, lifting his glass up.

Ron laughed before starting to speak, “I want to thank you all for warming Ana and I’s new home. It’s amazing to see so many people in here. You are all always welcomed like Mum opened the Burrow for everyone, I know Ana would love it,” he paused, looking at his girlfriend, “And, here is to all of the girls that turned our lives upside down when they fell into Hogwarts. I think I speak for all the lads when I say that it is the greatest chaos to ever enter our lives. Cheers!”

Glasses clinked around the table, chattering and eating beginning as Ron sat in his designated seat next to Ana. “That was beautiful,” Ana smiled, nudging Ron a bit with her shoulder.

“I meant every word of it. I love you, Ana,” Ron spoke softly, placing a gentle kiss on Ana’s lips, knowing that he would do that at least once a day for the rest of his life.

-

taglist: @jenniweaslee​​​ @just-an-outstanding-auror​​​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​​​ @ravenclaw-member​​​  @accio-slytherout​

[ri-ahhh]

playing games

Hot summer days are meant for playing games  6k, basically all smut lol whoops

Disclaimer: I’ve created a whole OC character for Grayson in the past year or so, just as a creative outlet, and never really intended on posting it anywhere. Like, at all lol, so on the off chance anyone actually reads this, go easy on me please. If something seems like it doesn’t make sense or needs more background, it’s because it’s already written in the deep recesses of my Pages documents lol.

If you do read, thank you so much! Creative writing, especially fanfics, have always been my creative stress relief, so this is all in good fun. I’m definitely not attached to only this character, though, so if you don’t think this is complete dog shit and want to see other concepts, I’d love to do that! :)

***

There are a lot of negatives to be said about LA, as MJ had learned quickly when she moved here a few years ago from her home state of Oklahoma: the stuck-up snobs; the traffic; the dirty streets everywhere you go. One thing not on that list, however, is the weather — nine times out of ten it’s perfectly sunny and warm.

Today is one of those days where it’s borderline hot, but still comfortable to sit outside and bake in the sun for a couple of hours. That’s what she and Grayson are doing as they lounge peacefully by the pool in his backyard, soaking in all the Vitamin D that mother nature can give them.

MJ welcomes the blast of heat from the outside air that contrasts harshly with the AC she leaves behind in the kitchen. She had gone in to grab the two of them glasses of water and, while she was in there, noticed the house was oddly silent.

She plants a peck on her boyfriend’s full lips as he accepts his glass with a thanks. “Where are the E’s?” she asks, referring to Grayson’s brother Ethan and his girlfriend Evie. They were both still home when she and Gray first went outside, but a quick glance at her phone tells her they’ve been out here for over an hour, so that really means nothing now.

“I think they were gonna take a Soul class and then have a beach day,” Grayson answers. He sits up a bit to take a sip of his water, and MJ can’t help but admire the way his abs, slick with tanning oil, contract deliciously at the movement. They’ve been together for nearly a year now, and she still can’t get enough of his physique. Amongst other traits of his too, of course, but in the context of lying in the warm sun surrounded by the sheen of coconut-scented body oil, it’s what comes to mind first.

Not to mention, he’s wearing her favorite swim trunks of his — the ones she had bought him — that not only make his olive skin tone pop because of their bright turquoise color, but the fit hugs his ass (and dick) in all the right ways.

Clearly, she’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding her ogling, though to be fair she isn’t trying all that hard to begin with.

He smirks at her. “Can I help you?” he teases, knowing damn well what’s going through her head.

MJ flushes when she realizes she’s been caught, but quickly decides two can play this game. She bends over him and only lets him steal a quick glance at her ample cleavage in her bikini before taking hold of his face in both hands and kissing him.

“You’re sexy,” she admits simply when they part, smiling and wiping a dab of saliva from his lower lip with her thumb.

He swats the exposed skin of her ass lightly when she turns to walk the couple of feet away to her own lounger. She yelps in surprise, which melts into giggles. “Not as sexy as you.” She rolls her eyes playfully and blushes at this, though he can’t see her doing so behind her oversized black sunglasses and the shade of her baseball cap. “I mean, come on, MJ, they’re just muscles,” he says with smug grin.

He’s so full of shit today. MJ scoffs and settles into the chair, not quite believing her ears but also realizing he’s still teasing her. “Okay, Gray.”

She glances over at him and sees him rubbing his thighs, something he knows always gets her going, under the guise of applying more sunscreen. The audacity. She knows it’s intentional by the way he’s biting back a grin and stealing glimpses at her out of the corner of his eye.

Oh, so he still wants to play this game? Apparently ten months together hasn’t clued him in that she is just as competitive as he is, even in stupid things like ‘who can make the other person hornier.’

She forms a quick plan. MJ pretends like she’s oblivious to his nonverbal taunts and reaches out her hand for the bottle of Sun Bum. “So the E’s will be out for a while?”

Grayson stops his ministrations to hand her the slick brown bottle. “As far as I know. Why?” he asks, lying back in his lounger and pillowing his head on his hands. The way his arms curl send his biceps and shoulders bulging, another one of her physical weaknesses for him.

Douche.

“Just wondering,” she answers casually. MJ reaches behind her to raise the back of the lounger that is almost completely flat, higher up so that it can keep her in a relaxed sitting position.

Using his physical teasing as fuel to gather her nerve, she next twists her arm behind her back and tugs at the tie on the thick straps of her cherry red bikini, then does the same to the one around her neck. Even though they’re on private property, in an enclosed yard where no one can see, it still feels a little odd and uncomfortable to be even partially nude outdoors. But if it gets her points in this game against Gray, she decides it’s totally worth it.

When she tosses the scrap of fabric to the ground, the rustling causes him to look over and do a double take. “What—?”

MJ looks at him innocently, but grins devilishly inside; boys really are too easy, sometimes. “What, what?” she questions, spraying some of the tanning oil into her hands.

Grayson shakes his head at her and she can feel his gaze, hotter than the rays of the sun on her newly exposed skin, bore into her through his Ray Bans. “I see. So it’s like that, huh?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about. They’re just boobs,” she counters, throwing a variation of his own words back in his beautiful, annoyingly perfect face. Grayson scoffs at her incredulously, and MJ doesn’t even attempt to hold back a victorious smirk. She’s definitely won this battle, and she hasn't even brought out all the ammo. Yet. “For real, though, we basically live together; you see these every day.”

Grayson tosses a hand up and shakes his head like she had just said something ridiculous. “You see me shirtless every day and still look like you want to jump me all the time, so how is that any different?”

He has a point and he knows it, but he’s an idiot if he thinks she’ll admit so. MJ shrugs. “Anyways,” she continues, ignoring his comment, “I’m just trying to get rid of tan lines. And it’s only us here, so who cares?”

“What if they come back?” Grayson argues weakly, still trying to appear nonchalant about his half-naked girlfriend gleaming in the summer sun just three feet away from him.

MJ shrugs again. “We can hear them coming up the driveway from here, so I’ll just cover up when we do. Also, it’s not like Ethan’s never encountered boobs before, and I’m pretty sure Evie and I have seen each other naked more times at this point than you and E have each other.”

He looks a little affronted. “I’m not sure if thats weird or kinda hot, actually.”

She rolls her eyes again but fights back a smile at his somewhat predictable response. “Don’t be weird. Girls generally just don’t give a fuck with each other,” she explains.

“Well, I still don't want my brother peeping your goods; they’re mine.”

MJ should be irritated at his possessiveness, but admittedly she finds it a little endearing — not to mention, she loves when she drives him to be dominant, especially when she knows she’s really the one in control here. She thinks back to the couple of times Ethan had barged in on them in the bedroom on accident and how Grayson always made sure his body was completely shielding hers while he screamed at his brother to get the fuck out. Ethan clearly wasn’t a threat, but Grayson always made her feel safe and secure either way.

It also isn’t like she wants E to see her tits either, but it won't be the end of the world if he does, especially if the risk of it gets Grayson so riled up for her that he’ll think twice before teasing her like this again.

MJ’s got him hooked now and she knows it, so really she doesn’t need to take the final step in her plan. But thinking about his deliberate words and touches gets the competitive fire lit inside her again.

Taking the oil in her hands, she massages it into the supple flesh of her breasts that were, indeed, several shades lighter than the surrounding skin. Her tits jiggle enticingly and her nipples harden a bit at the pleasurable stimulation caused by her own touch; his sunglasses are still on, but she knows he can see the effect she’s having on herself.

“Fuck, MJ,” Grayson finally groans in defeat. He sits up in his lounger and plants his left foot to the ground, utilizing his long legs to pivot over to her chair and straddle the end of the cushioned seat in one movement. His large hands stroke the smooth skin of her calves that are bent in front of him, his eyes glued to the way she’s touching herself. “You win, okay? I’m sorry for teasing you.”

MJ smiles at him, her ego at soaring. She can tell his hands are itching to reach for hers and replace them. He hadn’t lied that first time they met — he really is a boob man, to the tee. Even in non-sexual situations, like whenever they spoon while sleeping or watching a movie, his hand automatically goes under her shirt to cup one.

“I really do want to get rid of these tan lines, though,” MJ tells him, feigning innocence while simultaneously trying to ignore the way her body is reacting to him being right in front of her, touching her. Unfortunately, there is no denying the rush of wetness to her bikini bottoms. She finishes rubbing the oil into her skin and cups her breasts as if he’s blind and can’t see what she’s talking about. “This is really not cute, what I’ve got going on here.”

Grayson scoots farther up the lounger and cups his hands under her bent knees to drag her into his lap. MJ gasps in surprise and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck to balance herself after his forcible movement of her body. He ducks his head down and kisses her, tongue meshing with hers perfectly and exploring her mouth just the way she likes.

“How about we do something more fun than just lay here while you work on that, then?” he pants when they separate. She nips distractedly at the juicy center of his full lower lip in reply, eliciting a low, rumbling growl from him. He plants kisses across her jaw, down her neck, and back up to the spot behind her ear that makes her putty in his hands.

MJ bites her lip to hold back any sounds, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet of letting him know he can do whatever he wants with her at this point. “You were just giving me shit because your brother might walk out here and see my boobs, but now you wanna actually fuck outside?”

She actually didn't hate that idea at all, to be fair.

“Yeah,” he says simply, like there’s nothing to it. “I’ve never done it outside, now that I think about it. Besides our first time, anyways, but that was still in a tent so technically it wasn't ‘outside.’”

This surprises her. Despite his young age, there aren’t a whole lot of opportunities for ‘firsts’ with Grayson, given his past ways. She isn’t about to let this chance slip because of a relatively minor, albeit highly embarrassing, what-if.

MJ grins. She takes her baseball cap off and puts it on his own head, backwards so she can have full access to his pretty face. Not to mention, she definitely has a kink for it that way. She rolls her hips down against his, pleased to feel him semi-hard already.

“Okay,” she agrees easily, using her grip on his neck to bring his lips down to hers once again.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of kissing Grayson; the man has the act down to a fine art. And as irritated as she had been with him only a few minutes ago, she now feels an overwhelming need to please him as much as he so often does her.

“Sit down,” she whispers directly in his ear, motioning behind her to indicate he should be the one reclining back.

She feels him shudder before obeying. He keeps her securely in his lap by wrapping her legs fully around his waist and stands with her still clinging to him. MJ bites her lip and marvels at the complete lack of effort the shift in position takes for him, and he sits them down where he can rest his back against the lounger.

MJ removes their sunglasses and places them on the ground. “That’s why I love your muscles,” she says, rubbing her covered center along his length and devouring the expression on his face as she does so. Her hands massage delicately across his shoulders and down his biceps as she rocks fluidly on top him. “Forget aesthetics. They’re just evidence that you’re so fucking strong. That you work so hard. That you try to be the best version of you every day.”

She suctions her mouth to the pulse point thumping wildly under his jaw and drags her nails down his pecs, threading her fingers through the patch of hair in the center that he’s allowing to grow. Grayson grabs her ass with one hand to encourage the rocking of her pelvis against his, and squeezes one of her breasts with the other.

“How am I supposed to follow that?” he asks breathlessly and with a huff of laughter, tugging her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

MJ moans softly at the sensation. “Do your best,” she replies with a grin, scraping her teeth along the spot on his jaw before trailing kisses down his throat now.

She feels his hard swallow as he thinks for a second. “Uh, every part of you is so beautiful, and your body is just a reflection of how amazing you are on the inside.”

Wow. MJ laughs incredulously and pulls back to look him in the eye, golden hazel meeting bright green. “I can’t believe you just came up with that romantic ass statement while I’m dry humping you. That’s pretty impressive.”

“I mean, it’s true. And I do aim to please,” he smirks, thrusting up into her.

MJ gasps. Her eyes darken and her tongue subconsciously trails across her lower lip as she stares at her boyfriend heatedly. She cups a tit with her left hand, circling her nipple with her thumb, and grips her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck with her other hand. “I would have been happy with ‘I love your tits because they're the best tits I’ve ever seen, held, or had in my mouth in my entire life.’ But I’ll take your version, too.”

Grayson smiles. “How about, I love you, MJ, every part of you — especially your tits.”

MJ bites back a sappy grin and swears she can feel her heart swelling for him in her chest. “I love you, too,” she sighs, and uses her grasp on his hair to drag him in for a deep kiss.

When she’s had her fill of his mouth, she scoots down his body, trailing her tongue down the indentation dividing his abs and nipping playfully at the taut skin right above the waistband of his trunks. Her mouth waters at the sight of the bulge beneath them, straining against the slick material. “Lift up,” she instructs as she tugs the drawstring and hooks her fingers in the fabric clinging to his hips.

Grayson moans and does as he’s told while MJ pulls his swimsuit down his inked legs until she has to stand up where he can kick them off his foot. She takes a moment to admire the masterpiece that is her boyfriend’s body and uses the advantage of already being stood up to shimmy her bikini bottoms off her hips. She lets them drop to the concrete at her feet before crawling back onto the lounger in-between his thighs.

She can’t resist drawing a ticklish trail down his Adonis belt with her long nails and watching his dick twitch at the playful touch. Grinning, she takes him in her hand and observes with amusement how her simple grasp is already affecting him, spreading the resulting dot of precum around the swollen head. Her palm is still slightly lubricated with the remnants of tanning oil, which creates the perfect amount of friction when she starts to stroke his length up and down slowly, adding a twist of her fist when she reaches the tip.

Grayson throws his head back and moans. MJ utilizes his position as an element of surprise to duck her head and lick a trail on the underside of his cock, base to tip, then wraps her lips around his head.

His chin drops to his chest and his hazy gaze is met with her mischievous one while she stares up at him through her lashes. “Holy fuck, MJ,” he moans, taking hold of her dark locks and fashioning a makeshift ponytail in his fist so he can see her better.

MJ smiles around his length, pulling up and holding the tip against her mouth, kissing it lasciviously. “You want me to suck it?” she asks sweetly.

Predictably, Grayson nods enthusiastically, tugging gently on her hair to guide her down his cock. MJ smirks and gathers saliva between her lips. She purses them slightly and drags the slick moisture all along his shaft, coating him until she decides he’s wet enough for her to take him in her throat. He’s the biggest she’s ever had and hasn’t mastered letting him fuck her face yet, but her lips encircle him and she slides him down into her throat as far as she can with relative ease. She hollows her cheeks as she pulled back up, over and over again.

“Oh my God,” he growls, his blunt nails digging into her scalp; MJ adores the sensation. “Just like that, baby.”

She grins and lets him slip out of her mouth with a light pop, stroking him with her small hand while laving his balls with her tongue. MJ always loves sucking Grayson’s dick, but she can’t believe how much doing it outside is making her even wetter than usual. There’s something incredibly hot about being under the cloudless sky, in the fresh air, and, yes, the danger of potentially getting caught.

With that thought fueling her, MJ’s fingers dip down to her pussy and she lets out a tiny whimper when her slim fingers light upon her swollen clit, more for his benefit than an actual reaction to her touch; she wants him to know how much she’s enjoying having him in her mouth. Something about the situation they’ve gotten themselves into out here is amplifying her desire in every way.

“Should I make you come now with my mouth?” she asks, dribbling more saliva on his dick and sucking him as far as she can a few times in quick succession, eyes trained on his, and she’s earned with wanton moans from Grayson’s plump lips. MJ lifts her head, her chest heaving, and gives him a devious smile as she raises the fingers that had been playing with herself to his mouth, continuing to stroke him steadily with her fist. “Or should I put you inside me, baby? Hmm? Should I put your big dick in my tight little pussy?”

Grayson lets out a guttural growl and sucks her proffered fingers into his warm mouth readily. Before she realizes what’s happening, Gray is reaching behind him to lay the chair flat again, and she practically topples over at the sudden movement.

“C’mere,” he instructs as he lies back, motioning for her to climb up his body. He takes the hat off and throws it across the yard when the bill impedes him from lying flat.

MJ pouts. Despite her teasing questions, she isn’t done sucking him off yet. And she really liked how that cap looked on him. “But—”

“MJ, sit on my fucking face now,” he demands, his voice deep and commanding; it makes her shiver and her head swim. His hazel eyes, which usually turn almost as green as hers in the sun, are now a deep chocolate brown behind the darkness of his pupils, dilated with pure desire.

Well, shit. She doesn’t need to be told twice; when Gray is in this mood, there’s no room for arguing, and she loves it. MJ bites her lip and crawls up his abdomen until her knees are resting above his shoulders and her shins lay alongside his chest in what little room is left on the lounger. He wastes no time in wrapping one arm around her thigh, the other reaching up for her breasts, and attaching his mouth to her throbbing center.

She cries out when his tongue drags through her slit and flicks against her clit a few times before thrusting inside her. One of her hands supports her weight on the top edge of the chair and the other cards roughly through his thick hair, tugging none-too-gently on his dark wavy mop.

Grayson moans and nuzzles his nose against her swollen flesh, grinning up at her and tweaking a nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Did you get this wet just from sucking my dick, sweetheart?” MJ nods, the game of pretending he has no affect on her flying out the proverbial window. He lets out a little noise of affirmation. “I thought so. That’s why I love eating you out after you blow me; you’re always dripping for me.”

Without warning he sucks harshly on her clit and she shrieks, throwing her head back and moaning uncontrollably despite her best efforts. “Grayson!”

Grayson leaves the little bundle of nerves and dips his tongue down to her entrance once again as if to taste the fruits of his labor, groaning quietly. “So fucking sweet, baby. I love how you taste,” he says before repeating the actions over and over, driving her insane with the unrelenting pleasure of his simple motions.

She doesn’t know how she has the capacity to speak, but she manages to get her vocal cords and brain to coordinate. “I…fuck — I, I wanted to t-taste your cum, too,” she squeaks out, trying not to grind down on his face too hard. Not that he seems to mind.

His big hands restrain her hips anyways, long enough for him to speak. “I know you did,” he says with a smirk, and his voice vibrates sensually against her center. “You can do that next time, but right now you’re gonna come for me, and then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk. How’s that sound?”

God, the man knows how to use that mouth — in more ways than one. MJ can only moan and use her vice grip on his hair to tug him back to her pussy as confirmation that yes, that sounds fucking amazing.

All teasing pretenses are dropped as he goes straight for her clit and suckles her with purpose, that purpose being to get her to cum hard and fast. Sure enough, she feels the beginnings of her orgasm in her lower belly, driven by the sight of his eyes gazing adoringly up at her from between her legs.

It doesn’t take much longer once he adds both hands to her breasts, her moans reaching higher and higher pitches the closer she gets. “Ohmygod, yes!” she squeals, her knees squeezing instinctively around his head as he keeps up his ministrations, only gentler so she can ride out the high of her orgasm.

MJ’s moans turn to whimpers, and when she’s relatively back to earth she murmurs an apology as she slinks back down his body. Gray shakes his head in dismissal of her words and sits up, cupping her cheeks in his hands and kissing her deeply. She can taste herself on his mouth, and it gives her little aftershocks.

She settles over his lap and straddles his hips, grinding her dripping wet pussy against his rock hard dick because despite the amazing orgasm he had just given her, she was always ready to go for him; he makes her insatiable, sometimes.

“Fuck me,” she demands against his lips, lifting up so he can take hold of his dick and position himself where she only has to sit back and let him fill her up.

There isn’t much room on the lounger, but the way she’s forced to keep her legs close together just makes the fit extra tight and extra good. He lies on his back again, and MJ moans as she bounces on his cock with her hands planted on his broad chest for support while he grips her ass tightly.

Grayson for his part takes a moment to close his eyes so he can fully experience the warmth of the sun, the sweet wetness of her pussy, and the taste of her still on his lips all at once. He opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of an angel leaning over him. The sun is right behind her head and creates a halo effect, making his heart skip a beat despite the fact that she’s doing all the work while he lies flat, spoiling him with her body like always.

MJ smiles down at him breathlessly and drags her manicured jet-black nails down his pec. He loves the pain of it, she found out early on in their relationship, and she’s more than happy to inflict it. It turns her on like crazy to watch his eyes roll back and his jaw to drop as he sucks in a harsh breath.

He can sense her tiring when she slows down and starts grinding on him, rubbing her clit into the groomed patch of hair at the base of his dick as she catches her breath and gives her quads a break. She moans and twitches when Grayson digs his thumbs in the sensitive creases of her hips as he sits up. He moves her legs to hook around his waist before wrapping his arms around her sweaty back.

“Hold on to me.”

MJ pants and clutches her arms around his neck, tightening her grip with her legs around his trim hips and digging her heels into his round ass. She buries her face in his shoulder as he stands both of them up. She doesn’t know what his plans are, but she hopes they aren’t going far; she needs him back inside her as soon as possible.

Her back hits the wall in the next moment and she revels in the firm, cool feel of the smooth siding against her skin that’s become heated from the sun and physical exertion. Grayson uses the leverage of the wall to keep her against the solid surface while he switches his hold on her so that her knees are now hooked over his elbows. Even in her somewhat delirious state, MJ can tell this will allow him to use the combined potential of his considerable physical strength and the support from the wall to fuck her senseless.

Their eyes connect as they both take a moment to gather themselves. Gray smiles at her sweetly and plants his palms against the wall as he dips his hips enough to thrust up into her.

MJ whimpers as he stretches her again, reveling in that sense of fullness and completion that she only experiences when he’s inside her. When he bottoms out, she cups his jaw and uses the strength in her core to raise herself up enough to connect their lips together. Her tongue instantly slips into his mouth and slides along his, tasting all of her that’s left in him, until she tucks her head in his neck to suck kisses up and down the thick column of his neck.

“Go, Gray, please.”

Grayson moans and lifts her up as he pulls back with his hips, only to let her sink back down on his dick while simultaneously thrusting up into her swollen pussy. As he continues and picks up the pace, the depth he reaches and the force behind their movements sends her reeling. Her nails dig harshly into the smooth ripples of his back as her eyes look almost unseeingly down over his shoulder at the wide expanse of flexing muscles. The newness of this angle makes her realize that this position is another first for the two of them. They’ve had sex standing up before, but never like this, where he’s almost completely supporting her and letting gravity do half the work for them.

The noises of their mixed moans and the sounds of their hips clashing fills the otherwise silent backyard. MJ leans back against the wall and grips his biceps, using her position to fully take in the power of his body. Every muscle bulges out with exertion, his jaw clenches in pleasure and concentration, his eyes flitting between her bouncing tits and her flushed face as he pants harshly.

Everything about her — mind, body and soul — is overwhelmed. She can’t help it; she’s so turned on by him, so in love with him, the words just pour out, even though she knows they won’t improve his stamina any.

“You’re so fucking strong, baby. I love how you can hold me up and fuck me like this with your big dick. You’re making me feel so good…” On one particularly sharp thrust, he hits the spot, and her eyes instantly roll back in her head while she lets out a purely reactionary shriek of pleasure. “Right there, Gray! Baby, holy shit…”

“Jesus, MJ, you’re so fucking hot,” Gray rasps out behind clenched teeth. From the animalistic noises he’s making and the unhinged expression on his beautiful face, she can tell he’s barely holding on anymore, but he’s getting her there so fast that she hopes he can last just that much longer.

With a surge of strength she didn’t know she had left in her, MJ leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, then hooks her legs over his ass for leverage so that his arms can hold her by the backs of her thighs. She starts thrusting herself and grinding down on his pubic bone, perfectly stimulating both her clit and that deep spot within her. Her body shatters a second later, her limbs quaking with the force of the waves coursing through her.

She knows that normally Grayson would let her ride it out at her own pace, even rub her clit slowly to get her through it, but he’s so riled up at this point that he simply slams her against the wall and pounds into her relentlessly. MJ’s mouth gapes open soundlessly as, to her complete amazement, she feels yet another orgasm right on the heels of the one that has just started abating.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants repeatedly, making direct eye contact with him. She knows what will trigger them both to fall over the edge. “You’re fucking me so good. I want you to come inside me, baby, please!”

A guttural groan rips from his throat, his thrusts falter, and his forehead drops to hers as she feels the first spurts of his cum shoot into her. This is all she needs for her own orgasm to tear through her, radiating warmth and electricity through her whole body with an indescribable intensity.

Masculine, relieved whines escape his open mouth, the sounds alone making her clench inadvertently around his throbbing length inside her. His lower lip is too enticing for her to resist, and she nips it teasingly before drawing him in for a slow, perfectly sloppy kiss. They’re both still distracted by the pleasure coursing through their connected bodies as he finishes inside her.

“Fuck, that was good,” he whispers after a minute of recovery, trailing his mouth down her jaw and nuzzling her neck sweetly. MJ smiles and hugs his sweaty head to her, kissing his temple in return. She’s about to suggest they go cuddle on the daybed under the shade of the awning, but she never gets the chance because…

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“Oh my God, you actual assholes! Gross!”

A scream catches in MJ’s throat as their heads whip to the sliding back door only a few feet away, and there they are; the E’s had apparently gotten home from the beach much earlier than she thought they would. Or maybe she and Gray have just been fucking for that long.

Once the scare of their sudden reappearance has worn off, she can’t stop a smirk from gracing her lips, though she does try to hide it in Gray’s neck in mock mortification. That’s not to say she’s not embarrassed, but what can she do?

“Well, don’t look!” Grayson cries, but she can hear the concealed laughter in his voice, just as her smile grows even wider against his sweaty skin.

“How about you don’t have sex outside against our house where we can look, you bitch ass!” Ethan screams at his brother. MJ peeks a glance at him and sees him standing there with the heels of both hands digging into his eyes, as if he is not only blocking out the image before him but trying to rub it from his memory, too. Evie is just running around the patio, laughing and yelling “No!” at the top of her lungs, which makes MJ giggle too despite her best efforts.

As humorous as this situation is and even though Grayson’s body is pressed against hers completely, it’s still pretty embarrassing considering she’s butt-ass naked with her boyfriend’s softening dick still inside her, in a backyard with two of her best friends right there to see. “I mean, we literally just finished if you want to walk away and let us clean up, then the whole yard is all yours.”

“MJ, can you not just clean up now?” Ethan insists irritatedly. “We’ve already got our shit ready to come lay out.”

She pulls her face out of his neck and looks at Grayson, biting her lip to fight the shit-eating grin threatening to break across her face; she can already picture his brother’s reaction to what she’s about to say. But what the fuck are he and Evie even still doing out here? Why are they not inside? They’re the ones making this weird.

“Well, we need to go grab my swimsuit bottoms, or otherwise there’ll be a, ah, mess, if you know what I mean. Also, I don't think I can walk.”

Just as she predicted, Ethan makes a dramatic retching sound and reaches his hand out for his girlfriend blindly. “Evelina, help me. Let’s go bleach our eyes out before I throw up from these mental images.”

[czechforrain]

Astrological Signs of the Strawhat Pirates Rating by someone who isnt familiar with them at all.

Being a Pisces born on March 2nd, you are devoted to your goals, some of which are very ambitious. At the same time, you still keep your feet on the ground and understand that not all is possible all the time.The best part is that you simply don't give up and seem to challenge yourself more and more, especially when you feel that others don't think you can accomplish certain things

Luffy: Taurus 

Being a Taurus born on May 5th, you are passionate and lively and enjoy spending time with likeminded people. You are dependable and when you promise something, that has to happen, regardless of anything else that comes on the way.

You prefer to have your own space to relax in and assume distance sometimes, but at the same time still have a very strong relationship with your family

Rating: 7/10. All good minus the distance part. You can’t avoid rubbery hugs when the arms stretch out for hundreds of Gomus. 

Zoro: Scorpio

Being a Scorpio born on November 11th, you possess and active personality and will not stay put for too long. You fancy surrounding yourself with mystery but at the end of the day, you still end up opening up to those you love.

Will probably have an agitated love life but will tend to remain positive about it and take all that is good for you and not hold any grudges.

Rating:  3/10. Doesn’t really care about mysteries and is laid back unless you’re talking about working out. Technically has opened up to those who have loved him. Generally doesn’t hold grudges but will absolutely hold you to your actions.

Nami: Cancer 

As a Cancer born on July 3rd, you seem to be very sensitive to the needs of those around you and are more dependable than some people would tend to believe. You are creative and attentive to all sorts of details and it seems that a life choice might come out of this behavior of yours. At times, you are very fixed in your decisions. 

Rating: 9/10. Very applicable for her with her creativity and laser focus. She’s also one of the more stubborn members when she takes a stance. Outwardly abrasive at times but clearly can read people to some extent. 

Usopp: Aries 

Being an Aries born on April 1st, you have this way about you that makes you very attractive to other people. You are impulsive at times but also very careful with those around.

Industrious and enthusiastic about a lot of things, you almost always have something to pursue and often will end up helping others with deciding their goals, as well.

Rating: 6/10. He’s pretty industrious and careful when it comes to threats in general. Also a pretty generous and helpful guy when there’s not a super terrifying obstacle in the way.

Sanji: Pisces 

Being a Pisces born on March 2nd, you are devoted to your goals, some of which are very ambitious. At the same time, you still keep your feet on the ground and understand that not all is possible all the time.

The best part is that you simply don't give up and seem to challenge yourself more and more, especially when you feel that others don't think you can accomplish certain things.

Rating: 7.5/10. Definitely fits sanji’s realism attitude and juxtaposes it with his sense of lofty goals and romance in the general term. The rest is kind of generic but it sort of fits. 

Chopper: Capricorn

Being a Capricorn born on December 25th, you are altruistic, caring and patient but also very persistent and analytical. Very few details are going to escape your vigilant eye.

You are a social and expansive being and will prefer to be surrounded by as many people as possible. There may also be some episodes in your life in which you will get stuck under the weight of your thoughts.

Rating: 8.5/10. Chopper loves his friends and though he was shy at first that was a more a trauma response from his childhood rather than him wanting to be a loner. He’s very observant too but only from a science way, he’s kind of easily fooled at other times. 

Nico Robin: Aquarius 

As an Aquarius born on February 6th, you are a knowledgeable person, always on the way to discovering something new. You have a relaxed approach to life and take a lot of time to help those close to you, even when it is not necessarily in your best interest.

You learn from young that others appreciate you for being dependable and trustworthy and you try not to disappoint.

Rating: 9.5/10. Amazingly accurate or the most part. Once again her fears that came out of growing up where more so the fear of abandonment and a lack of trust so she made her self necessary and bounced when she needed to. 

Franky: Pisces 

As a Pisces born on March 9th, you are in a perpetual chase of novelty and experience. You are restless and visionary so cannot be stopped easily from trying out all sorts of things. Although you mostly know what you want in life, this doesn't stop you from all sorts of attempts just for the sake of it. You are fiery but adaptable and can be easily convinced by those close to you, especially when they tap into your weaknesses

Rating: 9/10. Franky is a man of experience by all means. He’s also fairly adaptable and willing to change his mind when he gets new information. He also is great when it comes to seeing a vision and putting his all into achieving it. 

Brook: Aries 

Being an Aries born on April 3rd, you are great at planning and establishing priorities but don't often follow them. You are impulsive and enjoy letting yourself driven by new thoughts and ideas.

Change, more precisely its existence in your life, is very important for you. People say you are witty and sharp and often respect you more than you can imagine.

Rating: 6/10. Very impulsive and kind of a loose cannon if you will but definitely a person who follows through and regards the past well. Witty though in certain aspects. 

Jinbe: Aries

As an Aries born on April 2nd, you seem to be a great motivator and find it quite easy to convince people to follow you. A child in spirit you prefer to maintain your mind youthful and don't take a lot of things seriously.

However, when you find something important, you are very dependable, respect your word and go above and beyond to help.

Rating: 8/10. Jinbe is something of a natural leader and he’s good at motivating people. A bit more serious of a guy though he can relax and be hands off when he needs be. Nonetheless a guy who will go above and beyond for those he cares about. 

[cosmicsunsett]

I would give I own (just to have you back again)

AO3 LINK https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316791/chapters/61381060

Los Angeles, December of 1979

“Chris! C’mon, boy, Carla is here!” Eddie said as he greeted the smiling woman, both entering the Diaz home.

“I’m coming! Almost there.” Chris’ voice echoed over the tiny house hallway.

Eddie smiled when he heard the familiar tapping of his kid’s slow steps, even when he felt the weight of his worry and exasperation coming down on him as he went back to his desk to finish up some calculations of unpaid old bills and other debts that not even him knew it existed. Eddie had always been careful to make Chris’ school, his physiotherapy and his speech therapist his priority while paying the bills. Yet, he noticed that even if he held back shopping for trivial things, he would still be on the negative.

“The beauty of the adult life, huh?” Carla eyed Eddie as she greeted Chris on the living room, next to Diaz who had been frowning, face heavy. He was barely lifting his head up from all the paper that covered the table. “It’s hard, but you get used to it.”

“I hope I never have to get used to it,” Eddie mumbled and halted when he noticed his son was coming his way, his bag already on his back. “Hey friend, did you get everything? Finished your homework?”

“Yes, dad. But I wanted to show you something,” the boy fished a crumbled paper from his pants pocket, probably had been folded a couple of times by the same artist standing in front of Eddie.

Well, obviously he deduced it was a drawing, since Eddie had a drawer full of them, some even fixed to the fridge.

Eddie met Carla’s gaze over Chris’ head and shrugged, smiling.

“What did you get me this time?” Eddie smiled as he received the paper, but before he could unfold, Chris shouted.

“No! Dad, this is for Buck! You can’t see,”Chris said seriously, as if Eddie was holding something too precious in his hands.

Carla placed a hand over her mouth, trying to smother his laughter after seeing the stunned expression on Eddie’s face.

“Oh, I see.” Eddie mock pouted, looking sad, for Chris’ amusement. Even only seven years old, Chris knew his dad was just playing around. “I’ve been replaced by my own son. So, is Buck better than I?”

“I knew something had pulled me to this house for some reason in the right timing. I could never miss the answer to that.”

Three pair of eyes turned to a familiar voice, the owner standing next to the front door’s frame. Eddie didn’t hold back his smile as he caught the happiness on Chris’ laugh. He hadn’t been the only one, if Buck’s gaze was anything to go by.

“Buck!”

“Hey, superman!” Buck have Carla a quick hug before crouching down to give one of the same to Chris, if a little tighter and careful. “How’s your strength? And where’s my high five?”

When the boy’s tiny hand slapped against his, Buck tossed himself on the ground, face contorted in mock pain, which provoked burst of laughter from Christopher.

“What kind of beans is your father feeding you?” Buck replied, lifting up from the ground and running a hand over the kid’s hair, “I think I need some of that.”

“I don’t know about that, I only know Christopher Diaz needs to go to school.” Eddie interrupted, looking at the wall clock and shrieking. “Time to go, buddy.”

“Please, dad, only five more minutes.” Chris turned to gaze at his father.

“Yes, dad, only five more minutes.” Buck widened his eyes are far as it could go. He could imagine Hen and Chim mocking him for his puppy eyes.

Eddie could feel his heart beating against his ribs, almost forgetting how to be a father and a responsible friend of these two kids, instead of only one of them. And, unfortunately, it seemed he was yet to be immune to those two set of eyes at the same time.

Against his pride, he called for backup.

“Not five, or ten, or twenty. Carla, please, can you take this two children out?” Diaz got up from his chair and gently nudging Chris towards Carla, who laughed, looking as won over as Eddie felt.

“C’mon, kid. The fastest you go, the quicker you’ll be back, an-” Buck was cut mid phrase by Eddie’s not-so-gentle elbow to his waist. “Ow.”

“Dad, don’t forget about the paper!” Chris whispered over Eddie’s ear as they hugged.

“I won’t, promise you.” Eddie chuckled, waving to his kid and Carla before closing the door and turning, only to be face to face with a new problem to deal with.

Blue eyes. Golden locks, which barely covered a well known birthmark. And a smile that always seemed to promise something mischievous.

“Hi.”

“Hello, and goodbye.” Eddie placed his hands over a confused Buck, dragging him to the door. “I’m a little busy right now, and I don’t need a distraction.”

“I need to have a words with your abuela. If she knew that this is how you treat your guests, she’d come to you armed with a wooden spoon.” Buck jammed his feet on the floor, spinning around and coming face to face with his friend’s brown eyes, only to finally pay a closer attention to his friend’s tired face, and to the bags under his eyes that screamed ‘leave me alone’ and ‘help me’.

“Buck, please.”

“What’s going on?”

Eddie sighed, knowing it would be useless to try and kick out Buck now. And if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with the other man. Eddie had the feeling they had spent five months apart, after five consecutive days without seeing each other.

Buck eyed him as he followed his friend back to the table he had been sitting at when Buck arrived the house. Pulling a chair over, he sat and waited Eddie to start speaking, but as he read what was on the papers Eddie held, and watched as his scratched and wrote numbers angrily on the edges of said papers, Buck knew.

“Bills?”

“And debts.” Eddie sighed tiredly. “I was doing the maths, it seems the expenses surpassed what I had expected. I just need to cut somethings, maybe less trips to the supermarket, be more strict with water and power usage. Maybe even do some extra hours.”

Buck shook his head, worried. Over the last few weeks, he had mentioned to Eddie about two open spots at the firefighter station, and he knew Eddie was in shape, besides having already enlisted and possessing a silver star, something his best friend would dodge whenever it came up in a conversation, and Buck never pressured Eddie to talk about it.

And Buck knew how dangerous it was to be alone with his thoughts, which sometimes can quickly morph into frustrations and worries and concerns that then becomes a big ball of anxiety. And, as Buck watched Eddie’s hand coming to his creased forehead for the third time that morning, Buck knew he needed to stop that ball from growing more inside his friend’s chest. Either way, he couldn’t stand watching this man get sad nor upset.

Day after day he had to make peace with himself for wanting to protect Eddie from any evil, even the things he didn’t have control over. At least he would try helping what was on his reach.

“Let’s go out.”

“What?” Eddie barely lifted his eyes from where he was scratching on the paper, his pencil in a tight grip between his fingers. It wasn’t until he felt warm fingers touching his chin and dragging his face from the papers did he look up to those blue eyes, staring intently at him.

“We are going out. Get ready, I’ll wait for you.”

“Buck, I can’t, I have to-”

“Funny, I can swear I’m hearing some kind of muffled noise, but I can’t tell what it is.” Buck replied, pretending to look around for the fake source of the sound, chuckling low at Eddie rolling his eyes. “Can you hear it? Sounds like a buzz, like a very annoying bug.”

“God, even my son is more mature than that.” Eddie got up, knowing it was already a lost cause. And he didn’t want to admit it, but he was ready to burst into flames if he had to do more math or if he found yet another bill to be paid.

“I can assure you that’s not the case, or he wouldn’t be my best best friend.” Calmly, Buck started cleaning his nails, oblivious to the murderous glare Eddie was shooting his way. “Unlike his father. Hurry now, Diaz!”

After a few minutes, as they were ready to leave, Eddie pulled the colorful paper from the table and placed inside his jean pocket. His eyes landed on the piles of paper on the table for a beat, but he soon snapped out of it when Buck’s rough voice sounded from a some meters away.

“Ready?” he asked, opening the door and waiting.

Eddie spent minutes trying to guess, and fail, where Buck was taking him. A few moments ago he watched from the rearview mirror as the city grew smaller and now, tired of looking at the empty road, he turned to the driver as a familiar playful smile grew on his lips as it always did when he was a passenger on the beetle.

His eyes lazily followed Buck’s long legs trying its best to fit on the small space, traveling upwards to the wide hands holding steady the steering wheel. The sleeves of his green sweater were rolled neatly around his wrists, making his muscled forearms pop. Eddie’s eyes continued up, observing how his shoulders were almost curved as Buck tried to make himself as small as possible, or how his blonde locks moved with the chilly breeze coming from the open window and his beard, a highlight around his rosy lips. Lastly, but not the least important, he stared at the deep blue eyes, focused only on the road ahead.

“What?” Buck asked, trying not to move under Eddie’s long stare. His hands started to sweat suddenly.

“Nothing.”

“You’re a bad liar, did you know that?” Buck shook his head, puffing out a gush of air. “Look at the backseat.”

Before turning, Eddie arched his eyebrows in his suspicious Diaz way, something Buck grew used to after dealing with it for almost two years.

“I won’t find a black garbage bag and a shovel, will I?”

“Oh my God, and I’m the kid.” Buck answered, failing to stop himself from laughing together with Eddie. “Now I know why Chris’ so creative.”

Said the man that calls me in the middle my working hours to ask if I knew about whales’ lifespan and that they hunt orcas before going off in a spiral to explain the seaworld for almost an hour with no interruptions.

Eddie scoffed, ready to respond, until he decided against it as he turned back and saw normal paper bags instead. He pulled them to his lap and his mouth fell open, watering up at the smell coming from it. Pastries and cheese balls.

“I think I can start loving you now.”

“How to win over Edmundo Diaz’ heart: cheap but good food, check.” Buck puffed out his chest, looking proud of himself for getting the right food. “Wait, starting now? What the hell?”

“Language, Buckley.” Eddie shoved a cheese ball into his mouth, moaning low and completely ignoring the outraged expression that Buck had turned to him. “Or there won’t be nothing left for you.”

“I hate you.” The blonde pointed out, grumbling, which only made Eddie laugh louder, “A lot! Just so you know, in case you didn’t before.”

“Now I know. You’re so good to me. Thank you.”

“Now you know. You’re welcome.”

Twenty minutes later, Eddie noticed the beetle turning into a narrower road, around a huge forest that enveloped the main road. It descended to a wide beach, and beyond that only a vastness of blue. His feelings caught him unaware, he was obviously unprepared for the destination Buck chose them for that afternoon. As the beach got closer, Eddie placed a hand on his best friend’s thigh, in a silent thank you, and in a split second, Buck’s hand found his. They stayed like that until they left the car, walking to the beach.

-

“So, what’d you think?” Buck asked his best friend, sitting side by side on the sand close to the ocean. Some moments had gone by, both man had been lost in thought, both gazing the sea, far away from there, until Buck managed to slowly come back to himself first.

Eddie took a deep breath, enjoying the cold breeze that’d been messing with his hair. It seemed like Buck new exactly what he needed in that moment, before he even knew it himself. Maybe one day he could put into words how much that meant to him, how much he felt cared for, for the first time ever.

“This had gone completely differently than I had been expecting, I must confess.” He answered, watching as Buck carefully stared back while eating the last remaining of the pastries, thanks to Eddie, “I thought you’re going to take me to your new apartment to help you finish moving. Speaking of that, how is it going?”

Buck shrugged, chewing as he watched the waves breaking on the sea.

“I’m slowly getting there. After living with Bobby and Athena for a while, I didn’t receive any warm reception from my neighbours. But the building is sound. A little over my budget but it’s only for the time being. I just couldn’t continue reveling on their generosity. To be a burden.”

Something like a warning siren played in the back of Eddie’s mind with Buck’s admission.

“Buck, I only know Bobby and Athena for a small amount of time, but I’m sure that you were never a bother to them.” Eddie closed the distance between them, shoulders touching shoulders to the dirty toes in the sand. It was only because the temperature was dropping and he forgot to bring a jacket, he thought quickly.

Of course.

With Buck’s silence, Eddie added.

“And… you always have a place at our home.”

Eddie felt his heart aching, feeling it squeezing as he noticed the insecurity laced over his best friend’s posture. They would often joke, fight, and over time they had become inseparable, turning into a running gag between their friends, Eddie didn’t care. What he did care was that Buck knew how much he was valued, how important he was, and how loved.

“Hey,” Diaz nudged Buck’s shoulder with his own, waiting those blue eyes to turn, even if they were suddenly afar and glazed with sadness. “I meant it. I know that sometimes I act like you’re nothing more than a nuance, but-”

Come on, Diaz. You know it’s true, just say it.

Buck waited, unusually pacient. Quiet.

“I can’t imagine my life without you today.” Eddie declared, letting his words to be taken by the breeze and waited till they started making sense in Buck’s head. But, deep inside, he knew, after so long knowing each other, both had trouble understanding some things truly. “And neither in my future, Evan. You make me so happy, that sometimes I think I can’t handle it.”

“Handle what?”

“Feel happy. Be happy.” he completed, and smiled seeing Buck lower his face not so discreetly to clear his eyes. Sighing, Eddie picked the now empty paper bag from Buck’s hands, placed it close to their boots, and pulled Buck’s head down to lay on his lap. He didn’t know he needed that until Buck smiled up at him, eyes slightly red gazing at him. “Did you bring me here to watch the sea or me?”

“Both.” Buck’s smile widened for a moment, and he closed his eyes when Eddie started running a hand through his locks, fiddling with it the same way he did with Chris, whenever Eddie wanted a moment of peace. “Hey, Eddie?”

His hand ceased its movement, and he focused only on the man on his lap.

“How are you, really?”

‘I’m fine’ was ready to leave his lips, but Buck’s eyes asked for honesty and trust. And, well, if there was someone who should get an honest answer, this someone was right there. Eddie knew that, even though Buck gave him the space he wanted, and was so very patient, Eddie knew he needed to push his own limits, get out of his comfort zone.

Not only for Buck, or for their relationship, but for himself.

Eddie’s gaze fell on the sea, searching inside himself a place to open up what he’d been holding for months. Years.

“I’m… trying to be ok, Evan.” His fingers continued to wander Buck’s hair, trying to give some comfort to the man, who deserved the world, and some for himself, too, because he knew they were entering one of those intense moments, where both wore big boy’s pants. To talk about feelings… it had never been Eddie’s forte. But for Buck it had always seemed so easy, so Eddie knew he needed to give his best friend something in return, sometimes, even if silently. “Too many changes in too little time. To move with Chris to LA even after seeing how disappointed my parents were, to be a single dad, have sex in secrecy with my wife and separating my child from his own mother… you know, only another day at work.” he paused, “That night, when I saw Shannon-”

Buck, sensing the sudden silence, lifted his hand up to caress the stubbled face of the man that held him.

“Hey, come back to me,” he said, feeling a tiny smile stretch his lips as he watched the tension in Eddie’s jaw dissipating, even if his shoulders were still hard as rock, like so many times when Buck watched his friend drowning in worry. “If you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine.”

“No, I… I want to,” Eddie answered, but grimaced a second later, “Actually, I really don’t, but I need to.”

“Ok,” Buck nodded peacefully. “Take your time.”

“Ever since I was a kid- it’s like I’ve been taught to see the world in a specific way, see the world with the design my parents taught me.” Eddie shrugged, feeling the tension stretching on his skin. “Study, get a job, build a family. Provide, support, do my best so that this pillar never falls.”

After a beat of silence, Eddie almost didn’t catch the question, distracted by the heavy clouds coming their way.

“And who takes care of you, Eddie?”

Buck only received a small smile in return, as Eddie’s eyes were distant, looking at something in his past.

“Me, I guess. It’s never been something that I’ve placed above all else. My dad always taught my sisters and me that we could swallow what life thrown our way, and we could march on. Sit down, lower our heads, suffer… those had never been part of his teachings.” Eddie sighed, feeling a knot growing in his throat. “Men of the Diaz family needed to be steady, strong. The time you waste crying, is time lost, according my dad.

“And indeed, I followed that road, and still do, at least when dealing with myself, old habits are hard to kill. But you know...” The fingers of his free hand started picking at the buttons of Buck’s jacket. “Shannon and I never taught Chris any of this shit. We really give our everything to the kid. And there’s nothing more important than him. Nothing. And that’s why, above all that had gone between me and Shannon, I loved her. But that’s also why I was afraid to let her close to us again.”

After a long pause, Eddie let his gaze fall to find out he’d been observed by Buck, which wasn’t a surprise, but there was something in his expression, something different. His face probably expressed his confusion then, because Buck started searching for words to say, looking serious and thoughtful. But Eddie continued, feeling his words flowing freely, even if the voice inside his head told him to stop, to not lose control. He was being too emotional, too open.

Vulnerable.

“Shannon and I met at seventeen, too young and in love.” Eddie sighed again, looking at this ring finger that was now missing the ring that had sat there for years. “And then she got pregnant, which lead us to our other big step. They were great years, there had been love, but I think there always had been something missing between us. And apparently, our communication slowly became awful, and I took over taking care of the bills after Chris was born, and became absent as a husband, father and-”

Eddie noticed something might have caught Buck’s attention, because at one moment he had his head rested on Eddie’s lap, but in the other Buck was sitting up right in front of him, leaning over his arm on the humid sand, his head only inches apart from Eddie’s. His blue eyes almost competing with the ocean behind him to see who was the bluest.

“Edmundo Diaz, what I’m about to say will not only be said because you’re my best friend and because I know you. And I’m sure it is one of those universally known truths that everyone can see it except one person. You.”

That moment, like so many countless others, in which Eddie shown himself as this incredible man, Buck wished his friend could see himself like Buck saw him. Behind all the sarcasm and his ‘manly attitude’ (which Buck had mocked him of when Eddie would sometimes say something inappropriate and Buck would scold him) he saw his friend’s flaws, but also his good qualities and right actions.

“You are a marvelous dad, Eddie. And was a good husband too. Hey,” Buck held his hand up when Eddie started to open his mouth to interrupt him. “You were. And I don’t know, but I got the impression that despite all Shannon mistakes, she had also been a good wife. She’s still a good mother, who calls and worries about her son. Eddie, you have no idea how good it’s to have all that. Maddie and I didn’t have that. So, from experience, and from any other person with good functioning brain cells it’s obvious. It’s a naked simple truth.”

Eddie stared at him, frozen in place by the intensity and the wild veracity in Buck’s eyes. He felt his stomach churning, shaking his head as he felt his eyes stinging while he looked at the horizon.

“I know that Shannon and you committed mistakes, as a couple and even as parents, but you try so much Eddie, you fight everyday to give him only the best. And to see his admiration and love glazing on his eyes when he looks at you? It’s impressive.” Buck smile when he noticed the tears falling from the face he knew so perfectly, even with his eyes closed. With a soft caress, he cleaned the wet tracks on Eddie’s cheeks. “You are so gentle with everyone, why not with yourself?”

The silence stretched between them. and when Eddie finally felt steady enough to speak again, he replied.

“You really know your way around words, huh? Damn it, I’m never letting you kidnap me again, look at what you did. Fuck”

Buck threw his head back with a burst of laughter.

“Careful, Diaz,” Buck warned, his smile carrying a light playfulness. “Sometimes I bring unfairly hot men to deserted beaches to make them cry.”

“Well, God help me then.” Eddie rolled his eyes, ready respond in the same way when they felt the first drops of rain. They frowned in synch. “The beach is kicking us out after our exciting conversation. Time to go, I’ve got to get Chris from my abuela.”

Eddie, as he lifted from the ground and offered Buck a hand, creased his brown when he pulled Buck up for their walk back to the car, and unfortunately witnessed something shifting in his best friend’s eyes.

“Hey, Eddie-”

Eddie narrowed his eyes when Buck threw his jack on the sand next to the pile of their shoes.

“You remember when the other day you told me you hadn’t been to the sea?”

“Buck.” Eddie retreated a few steps from his friend, calculating and reading to arm himself uselessly with one pair of his boot, “I’m warning you, get away from me, or I swear to God-!”

In a fraction of seconds, everything that Eddie could see was the boot falling on the ground before being carried over the shoulders of the almost two meters tall man. Even as the sun was still shining between the clouds, the rain started to pour, and thunder echoed on the distance, nothing what the LA sky was used to.

“Fuck! Evan, out me down!” Eddie punched on the large back, to which Buck started to laugh freely, running to the agitated sea. “I’m gonna kill you!”

That was the last thing Eddie remembered saing before darkness engulfed him underwater, so cold it felt like tiny daggers were sticking on his every pore. He swam up desperately, before finally finding the open skies above his head again. He panted, blinking and breathing hard. The rain still fell on his face as he tried to stay afloat when he noticed:

A very absent Evan Buckley.

That was so much more worrying than being thrown into a wild tide as a pseudo-storm raged on. He started panting again, not only in search of air, but because panic took hold on him.

“Buck! Buck!”

He dove again, swimming against the strength of the tide that pulled him down, because fuck it, he would go against nature if it meant finding that bastard.

Seconds later, after coming for air again, Eddie almost felt like he would sink from the weight of the arms holding his body and pulling him back to the shore. And as soon as his feet reached the wet sand, he heard the gasping and very excited voice of the only idiot on the world that could almost had drowned to death.

“Eddie, did you hear that thunder?” Buck smiled as he tried to calm his breathing, supporting himself on his knees. “Damn, they are wild today.”

“I hope Maddie won’t go missing her brother, because you’re only getting out of here dead, you mother fucker!”

It took Buck two seconds to start running away from a furious Eddie. This storm couldn’t compete with all this anger, Buck though as he stumbled, freezing to death and laughing hysterically as he made for his shoes.

-

Eddie had his gaze fixed on the trees passing by them, but he could count on his fingers how many times he felt Buck’s eyes slip between the street ahead, and him. He tried keeping his face straight, even as the cold air that entered through the cracks of the window made him shiver more furiously, and he wished he hadn’t forgotten his jacket back home.

They must have broken a new record, Eddie thought impressed, after ten minutes had gone by and neither had spoken a word.

“Eddie, come on. It was fun, wasn’t it?” Buck asked hopeful, like a child trying to bargain a apologize after some mischief. “It wasn’t that bad.

Buck could the a livid vein popping on the forehead of the man sitting next to him.

Sighing, he hid his worry and frustration from his face, thinking that, yes, in fact he did spoil things with Eddie. Maybe he should really start listening to Bobby when he says Buck can be a little too reckless.

“When will my silent treatment end?” Buck wanted to know, shifting his big, pleading eyes towards a seemingly very troubled Eddie, but something inside him needed to make sure. “Are you distressed?”

That was Eddie’s last straw.

“Well, Buck, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you were reckless enough to the point of throwing both of us into a high tide in the middle of a storm, and then I couldn’t find you, and also maybe, just maybe, we could have been stricken by a fucking lightning. So yes, I might be a little distressed.” Eddie conceded, almost out of breath. “So can I have this? Fuck it, I will.”

Still recoiled from his friend’s outburst, Buck dared look at Eddie and noticed his entire body shivering, his arms around himself and his henley sticking to his torso. Schooling his eyes not to see more than he should, he let a few seconds go unperturbed between them.

Buck took his eyes off the road and stretched his arm to the backseat and, in a peace offering, handed Eddie, who was scowling, his jeans jacket.

“You can have this as well. If you want.”

Well shit, Eddie knew he shouldn’t have looked up at Buck, because all resentment that was still sitting on his face quickly evaporated when he met those blue eyes. His golden locks, now wet and sticking to his blushing face, from all the running they did when Eddie had been chasing him, were shining, and made his face look younger, despite the unkempt stubble.

“Please,” Buck insisted still holding the jacket with his right hand.

Sighing, Eddie put the jacket over him in a hast. It was almost just as wet as the clothes on his body, but he did feel better as he smelt Buck’s scent on the material. He nudged Buck on the shoulder when he saw his best friend smiling by the corner of his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“I haven’t said anything, in fact, I-”

His comment died on his lips when they heard a muffled choking coming from the hood of the beetle.

“Did you hear that?” Eddie looked at Buck as he whined, understanding what was happening.

“The gas is running low.”

If there really was a bigger entity somewhere looking down at them, it would probably be laughing.

“Ok, let’s push it.” Buck said determined.

“You’re joking, right?” Eddie gasped, staring at Buck’s back as he opened the door and left to the be under the light drizzle. They had practically pulled over in the middle of the road. With no one to ask for help. “No, he really isn’t. Fuck.”

“Okay, we push it and as soon as it starts moving again, we run back inside.” Buck readied himself on the car’s rear, eyes locking with Eddie’s on the other side of the car.

“What if you push and I stay back here on the driver’s seat and turn it back on?”

Buck frowned confused, his head tilting to the side, much like the dogs from TV commercials Buck watches fascinated, with Chris and Eddie.

“But then I wouldn’t have time to jump back in and-”

When Buck realized what his friend was trying to imply, Eddie could hold the tension anymore, and burst into laugh, toppling over himself against the beetle as he saw the horror on Buck’s face.

“Rude! I can’t believe you’d let me behind-”

“You should had seen your face! Gosh, I’m saving this moment forever.” Diaz said, with a more calm chuckle on his lips as he walked back to the rear of the car, readying himself next to Buck. Bating his hair from his eyes, Eddie took a deep breath. “Okay, on three.”

Buck puffed out his cheeks, shaking his head desperately.

“One-”

“Two-”

“Now!” Buck shouted, and both pushed, using all the strength they had, which seemed to work. A few seconds on and the beetle started moving on its own, and both ran back inside. “Go, go, go!”

As soon as they were both in, Buck turned the ignition key and the engine sounded back to life, provoking a relieved sigh from them, who were still trying to catch their breaths. Buck turned on the radio distractly, eyes back on the road.

“And now, the number one of the top ten most requested songs from fans. With you, the first place, Elton John with Your Song.”

Even as Buck rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help the tiny smile from growing on his face as he heard Eddie chuckling.

“It’s my pleasure to be your entertainment source, Eddie Diaz.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Eddie replied with a smile and he stared and admired the man sitting next to him. The man that had given him a day that was far from what he imagined he would ever live. Buck didn’t seem to notice the power that he had over Eddie, always making him feel like a teen, very different from the responsible teen he had been, but a teenager he had dreamt to be years back: foolish, funny and free.

And maybe, truly in love, even.

It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

I don't have much money, but boy, if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live

Stopping the car under a traffic light, Eddie spoke, almost a whisper to Buck’s ears, as they waited for the green light.

“Thank you,” Eddie waited Buck to turn his confused face towards him before continuing, “for today. I wouldn’t change this afternoon for anything.”

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show

I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do

My gift is my song and this one's for you

“Oh, which moment are you talking about? When you were chasing after me furious on the beach? Or when you were ready to leave me behind?” Buck asked playfully, laughing together with Eddie.

“Every moment. You are full of surprises, Evan. You are-” he gulped dryly, heart threatening to jump out of his throat, all his feelings for Buck suddenly punching him all at once. He needed to let Buck know how much he matters. “You are everything. I’m grateful for today and for every day since the day we met. I’m grateful for you.”

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

He couldn’t tell how Buck’s eyes became the exact representation of the saying his abuela loved to say about how the eyes were the windows of the souls, but Eddie would never get used to being the target of what he liked to think were looks of trust, genuine kindness, and love. No one ever looked at him like that: stealing all the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless.

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Maybe it wasn’t just his gaze, but the space between them was reducing slowly, and he couldn’t tell which one of them closed the distance completely on the sudden tight space. The touch of Buck’s cold hand over his thigh, which made the moment feel more real, his blue eyes, half hidden under those long eyelashes, his breathing mixing up with his own.

“Eddie-”

“I want to give you the world, Evan.” His fingers brushed over Buck’s stubble, and he closed his eyes, noses touching.

And as things goes, fast as so many waves crashing on the sea, the moment broke when a car  honked from the other side of the road, making them both jump out of theirs sits. Buck had startled so hard he almost hit his forehead against the car ceiling.

The green light shining bright, almost mockingly so.

Gulping again, Eddie snapped out of it and pulled away from Buck, the hand on his thigh disappearing. Buck cleared his throat, trying to get a hold on himself, even if his posture betrayed him. He was just as struck as Eddie.

His fingers gripped the steering wheel tight, and he pressed down on the pedal, shifting gears mechanically as they found themselves further and further away from the beach.

-

As she cut the onions to finish preparing the tortillas she knew both her grandson and her great-grandson loved, Isabel ventured a quick glance towards Chris, who was on the living room watching cartoons. Her attention turned back again to the radio. At the end of the day she always turned on some music, enjoying the distraction while she went on with her chores.

She heard a car parking on the street as she sauteed the onions and tomatoes. The familiar sound made her smile while she cleaned her hands on her apron, making her way towards the door with quick paces.

She couldn’t hide the surprise when she opened the door and saw both men walking her way completely wet. She covered her mouth with her hand, surprise morphing into amusement.

“Edmundo what happened to both of you?” Isabel asked, looking at the Evan’s and her grandson’s barefeet. She recognized Eddie’s used boots in his hands, completely soaked and covered with sand, but she couldn’t remember the jean jacket he wore. “A tsunami caught you on the way home?”

“Something like that, abuela.” Eddie replied, holding back rolling his eyes as Buck giggled behind him. Shaking his head with amusement, he gave her the mail he’d found sitting on her mailbox. “Is Chris doing alright? I’m sorry we’re late, we lost track of time.”

“He’s fine, watching his cartoons on the living room.” Isabel answered, and before he could ask, she continued, “Yes, he finished his homework.”

Buck, as he exchanged a quick glance with Isabel, felt the familiar pride settling back into his chest as he watched Eddie getting into his ‘dad mode’.

“Evan, come on in. You both need to get warmer and drier if you don’t want to catch a cold.” She opened the door wider, giving them space to enter. “I’m making tortillas!”

“Yes, you’re more than welcome to stay.” Eddie answered Buck’s silent question, tapping on his own stomach, with a sudden realization of how hungry he is. “Chris will love to see you.”

Isabel checked the mail in hand, and as she expected, most were bills, power, water, phone… except the last letter. Frowning as she recognized the stamp and the address to Rámon and Helena in El Paso. She put all her mail on her apron pocket, predicting it was better to wait till she told her grandson, given the circumstances of the couple’s last visit to LA.

Buck whined when he remembered the state he let his apartment. He left work and went straight to the Diaz house, but he couldn’t put it off being away from home this long, not with the new and not-so-friendly neighbour.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I still haven’t gone back to my apartment today, but I appreciate the invitation.” Buck tried to hug Isabel goodbye, but she took a step back, holding her hands up as she dodged the taller man’s hug.

“Oh no, not covered in sand you won’t!” She said, moving away from his still stretched arm and ignoring the kicked puppy expression he was giving her, and the amused smile on Eddie’s face. “But I’m getting you some tortillas for your to take with you. Just a moment.”

Clearing his throat almost hesitantly, Eddie turned to Buck, who shifted his gaze to his bare feet. His mind suddenly provided him with images of what had almost happened inside the beetle, and he was overtaken with embarrassment. And judging by Buck’s blushing cheeks, he suspected he was thinking about it too.

“I’m sorry if that was too much… back in the car.” Buck apologized to Eddie, looking at him through his lashes, hoping that he hadn’t overstepped the limits too early. He knew he could be impulsive at times, and always take the first step in every situation. But, in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of them, isolated from the rest of the world, away from all obligations, charges and mostly fear.

He knew that Eddie was scared of entering another relationship after his break up with his ex-wife, but there was also a discomfort knowing how close they were, and to come in terms with having feelings for another man, was a new territory, which could be easy in Buck’s eyes, but he wasn’t naive. He knew that for Eddie, things couldn’t easily be thrown away.

And honestly, he was scared for Eddie and himself too.

In less than an hour ago, the fear seemed to become invisible on the moments prior to their ‘almost kiss’.

Eddie must have noticed something on his face, because he creased his brow as if looking for something to say. Checking quick to see if there weren’t anyone in sight, he sighed and closed the distance between them, colliding against Buck’s front into a tight hug. For a brief moment, he remembered the countless minutes they spent like that in the empty disco, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes, his heart squeezing as he reminded himself that they couldn’t do that in public.

He still had his prejudices, personal obstacles to be deconstructed, but the fear that something might happen to this man he held, that made Eddie feel safe whenever he felt his insecurities and fears beating against his chest, was unthinkable. An irrational fear as big as thinking of losing Christopher.

“It wasn’t too much, Evan.” Eddie breathed deeply on Buck’s neck. His hands, which looked small inside the jeans jacket, gripped tight the green sweater Buck was using. “Thank you again.”

“Actually, I think I’m feeling pretty lucky.” Buck whispered on Eddie’s ear, closing his eyes. He held Eddie like he wanted to hold this moment and the entire day they had. “We’ll meet Sunday? I need my two assistants to paint all the walls.

“Of course, we’ll be there.” Then Eddie, against all his better judgement, pulled back from Buck and begun stripping off the jacket, but Buck’s hand landed over his, stopping his movement.

“Stay with it. You can give it back on Sunday.” Evan had been staring at Eddie wearing his jacket ever since he first put it on, and the satisfaction still haven’t left him. “I wanted to say goodbye to Chris, but I really need to go.

Buck waved goodbye, but halted when Eddie seemed to remember something in a jolt. He grimaced while he took a carefully folded, and extremely wet piece of paper from his pocket, and curiosity quickly overtook Buck.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a letter from Chris, he asked me to give it to you, but I only remembered it now.” Eddie gave it to him, and he slowly opened it. “It’s a miracle it’s still intact and not lost somewhere in the sea.”

He felt affection squeezing his heart, which was already full of emotions the Diaz next to him peppered him with, now there was another Diaz that shared that same space. He tried telling himself that he was only emotional because he was receiving his first letter from Chris, but he knew that in reality, it was much more than that.

“Ah, no.” Eddie stopped Buck before he could unfold the paper completely. “He had been strict and clear when he prohibited me from reading. Orders are orders.”

Isabel came back with a bowl full of tortillas in hand, silently observing the moment her grandchild and Evan smiled at each other, completely at a lost about their surroundings. Not even the smell of tortillas would snap these foolish men out of it, she thought as she shook her head.

These two were too obvious, God help her old heart.

“Edmundo, enter and go change your clothes, now!”

The man almost jumped out of his skin, a step away from toppling over Buck, who widened his eyes as if remembering where they were.

“Abuela!” Eddie felt his cheeks growing warm, suddenly feeling way more younger under Isabel’s piercing gaze. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“Oh,” Isabel laughed, walking past him and giving Buck the bowl, “not in my eyes, mi chico. And you, eat them all! Don’t forget to bring my bowl back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Buck bent over to receive a kiss from Isabel on the cheek. “I’m going now, thank you and see you soon, Diaz’s.”

He waved to Isabel and Eddie, his eyes resting a tad longer on his best friend’s hazelnut ones before getting inside the beetle. They both hurried back inside after watching the car moving away from them. Eddie didn’t waste time before finding Chris, who finally noticed his presence and greeted him with a long hug and a customary smile.

“Dad! You’re all wet!” Chris pulled a face as he touched his dad’s shirt under Buck’s jacket.

“Edmundo Diaz! Are you sitting on my couch without having changed your clothes?” Isabel’s voice sounded from somewhere in the hall, and Eddie whined while Chris giggled in amusement.

“You are in so much trouble, dad.”

Eddie stared down at him, overly serious, before surging forward and tickling him, laughing with his son.

“I love you, kid.” Eddie kissed his hair, lifting up from the couch.

“I love you too.”

Dodging the storm that was Isabel Diaz, Eddie sneaked on the tip of his toes to the kitchen for a glass of water. After drinking the last of it, he took off the jacket, readying himself to go change in the bathroom when he noticed the familiar song playing on the radio. He hugged the jacket absentmindedly as he recalled the afternoon he had with Buck. A smile formed on his lips almost involuntarily as he leaned against the counter, going over the conversation they had on the beach, Buck’s words and all the mess that leaded them to that moment under the streetlight.

That Buck’s eyes were one of the most beautiful things for Eddie. Aside from the rest of the package that was Evan Buckley, which was noted by most people, getting to know him behind all that, let Eddie feeling like a fool in love, standing in his grandmother’s humble kitchen.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do

You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Anyway the thing is what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Daring his luck for a brief moment alone, Eddie lifted the jacket to his face, and, as he closed his eyes, he felt his own scent penetrating the material, but he also recognized the faint perfume that screamed Buck. On that moment, all he could feel and think of was Buck. His mischievous laugh, his expressions, from the most silly and surprised to more the most serious and worried, his touch, his hug, the stubble brushing his cheeks, his smell.

Damn it, Diaz. What happened to you?

-

Buck had a tiny smile on his lips as he sighed and walked down the corridor after climbing the stairs to the fourth floor. He entered his apartment, throwing his soaked boots next to the door and locking it. He approached the second-hand record player he found on a friend’s thrift store near his work and placed the tonearm gently over the record, observing as if spinned around under the fleeting touch of the headshell. His room was just around the corner, but as he walked to it he almost stumbled as he recognized Elton John’s voice echoing sweetly over the small room.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Buck chuckled low as he shook his head, letting his sand covered feet guide him all the way to the other end of the corridor.

He could say that his body was present in this new house, although, his heart had stayed back in the Diaz household.