#and hopefully we will be getting to take a little road trip to hang out w their brother soon

[bartmobile]

:)

[sommerbueckers]

HI BABY OKAY SO I HAVE A LITTLE ONE SHOT IDEA⁉️⁉️

so basically reader and paige know each other but aren’t exactly close just flirted a few times wtv wtv. so reader goes to a game and she’s wearing the other teams jersey😋😋 after the game paige sees her, they hang out have a few drinks and hookup.. and paige is like “take this shit off” then pulls the other teams jersey off reader

ALSO CAN I BE 🤍 ANON??

yes ofc you can !!

𝐚/𝐧: okay i literally love this idea , and congrats on being my first anon love !

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

➪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

THREE DAYS AGO you had been sitting quietly in your apartment, the tv displaying an episode of Gilmore Girls that you, if prompted, could recite word for word. Leftover Chinese food sat cold upon the coffee table, your roommate occasionally returning to her forgotten bowl of beef broccoli.

“What’re you doing this weekend?” her voice abruptly cut through the silence, drowning out the show which could hardly be heard to begin with.

You leaned your elbow against the arm of the couch, shrugging your shoulders. “Probably nothing.”

“Per usual,” she snorted, amused. After reaching to pause the tv, she pulled her legs up under her and twisted around to face you. Her face held a look of mischief and you typically tried to steer away from any kind of conversation with her at this point, but there was nowhere for you to go. “Do you wanna take a little road trip?” she raised her eyebrows, hopefully.

“A road trip?” you repeated, your tone laced with confusion. “It’s the middle of February and you wanna take a road trip?”

Excitedly nodding her head, she scooted closer to you. “You know how i’ve been talking to Noa a lot lately?” She hadn’t even given you a chance to respond before she continued on. “Well her school plays UConn on Friday night and she said she could get me courtside tickets! How sick is that?!”

Courtside tickets to any game would be exciting, but courtside tickets to see UConn Paige play was an entirely different level of excitement.

You had met the basketball star at a penthouse party last summer. It was being hosted by some trust fund NYU student whose parents were out of town. It was said to be ‘select invite only,’ the hierarchy groups of the social food chain would be there along with whoever else they wanted to bring. You originally weren’t supposed to go, but after finding out your name was on the invite list, you and a few friends couldn’t think of any better way to spend the night.

Paige had been wearing a white crop top and a pair of jorts, and she looked far too good not to entertain for the night. All night you two had mingled and flirted, dancing together and taking shot after shot. Nothing came out of it other than another follower on Instagram, but you were just happy to have made the night a good one.

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” you admitted quietly. You leaned forward to grab the box of shrimp fried rice, aimlessly picking at it with your fork in an attempt to hide your clear interest in the conversation.

“Pretty cool?” your roommate gaped, “it’s fucking awesome! I finally get to meet her and you get to see Paige play in person.” She was practically bouncing off the walls at this point, her cheeks red from how hard she was smiling. She was biting her lip, no doubt to keep from squealing.

You sucked your teeth unconvincingly, your mind scattered as it tried to provide you with a quick response. “Why would I wanna see Paige?” you frowned, avoiding her eyes.

“Aren’t you guys friends?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well you follow each other on Insta, and you’re always watching her games,” she shrugged innocently, thankfully not picking up on the way your eyes refused to meet hers or the blush that had unknowingly crept onto your face.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “well we aren’t.”

Unfortunately, it was the truth. You and Paige hadn't interacted with each other since the party and you chalked the night up to the two of you just having some drunken fun.

"Oh, so, do you wanna come down or no?"

You weighed your options, though the answer was clear. Stay in your apartment with nothing to do other than binge watch shows by yourself or join your roommate on a trip down to good ol' Storrs, Connecticut. You sighed and leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms.

"When do we leave?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

That was how you ended up sitting courtside at a UConn versus Creighton game, a white and blue jersey over your sweatshirt, the number seven displayed on the front. Your roommate had insisted that you both wear Noa’s jersey, that way she felt ‘double the support.’ You didn’t mind despite the fact that you couldn’t name a single player on the team.

The game ended with UConn sweeping Creighton, you had tuned out sometime during the third quarter after accepting the fact that the blue jays wouldn’t be able to come back. You hadn’t even noticed the game was over until the blonde beside you stood up with a groan, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s it? It’s over just like that?” she turned to you with wide eyes.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Guess so.”

She was beyond upset, you would’ve thought she had been the one on the court. She went on a tangent after the teams disappeared into the locker room, expressing her opinion on why the game should be longer and what Creighton should’ve done. She had no idea what she was talking about, and you knew that, but still listened nonetheless.

“Are we getting something to eat?” you asked when you were sure she was done talking.

“Yeah,” she sighed out, “not sure what Noa wants to do but we can figure it out when she gets out here.”

“Okay, ‘m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” You stood from your seat, brushing off your jersey and heading toward the bathrooms.

Never before had you been to Gampel Pavilion, and curiosity got the best of you as you disregarded the large ‘Restrooms’ sign for a more enticing place. You ambled down one of the corridors, looking at all the pictures and awards that were up on the walls. Pictures of alumni in all the different uniforms through the decades, different championship trophies and plaques.

Your eyes stopped on one picture in particular; it was from the 80s and the men had bright smiles on their faces as they held up a large trophy. Their shorts were incredibly short, and you laughed to yourself as you wondered how they’d ever played in them. Before you could bring your attention away on your own accord, a familiar voice did it for you.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

There stood Paige Bueckers in all her six foot glory, her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at you. For having just played a game, she looked amazing. Her hair was still pulled up in its usual braid and ponytail but it was now partially covered with a gray beanie, she had put on a jacket and sweats over her uniform and looked about ready to slip out without being seen. That’s probably what she was doing.

“Oh sorry, I—I didn’t know,” you shook your head, embarrassed.

“Nah it’s cool, usually it doesn’t matter but they’re tryna clear the place out now,” she explained with a shrug, a keychain jingling from the movement of her bag on her back.

You nodded your head, silently walking past her to make your way back to the gym.

“Wait,” she called out.

You whipped your head around quicker than you should’ve, your face holding a look of innocence as you waited, no, hoped for her to say what you thought she was going to say.

“Don’t I know you?”

‘Yeah, we met last summer,’ was what you would’ve said had you been able to think straight. Instead, you stared at her dumbly until she finally spoke again.

“I think I do, we met at that one kid’s party last year,” she said. Was she trying to remind you? Like anyone would forget meeting Paige Bueckers at a party.

“Yeah, yeah I remember,” you nodded. You rubbed your forehead with a breathless laugh, thinking of what to say next. “That night was pretty blurry to be honest…”

That’s all you could come up with?

It wasn't even the truth either. You remembered everything from that night; every look, every touch.

“No yeah I get what you mean,” she laughed, “don’t even remember how I got home.”

You nodded your head to feign agreement because you knew exactly how you had gotten home.

“Creighton fan, huh?” Paige asked, gesturing to your jersey.

You glanced down, pulling the material away so you could examine it yourself. “No uh, my friend’s girlfriend or — whatever is on the team and we just came down to support her.”

“Ah, so I take it you’re not a UConn fan either?”

You laughed, “I’ve watched a couple games.”

Another lie -- you've watched every game.

“I’ll take it,” Paige smiled. “It was good seeing you again,” she said, beginning to back up. Had you not been so captured by the shade of blue that her eyes held, you would’ve missed the way they'd scanned your body. Running up and down your legs, gently biting her lip. Her eyes once again met yours and she flashed you that signature smirk before she turned around and headed out.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

"This place is fucking packed," Noa commented, surveying the bar with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, i'm gonna go see if I can get us a table."

Your roommate left your side and approached the hostess podium, you and Noa now being alone near the door. She awkwardly rocked back and forth on her feet, hands resting comfortably in her pockets. "Y'all came down here together?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, got here a little bit before the game actually," you smiled.

Noa hummed, "Hope you aren't driving back tomorrow," she said with a small laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"The couch at the apartment isn't the most comfortable," she sighed, scratching the back of her neck, "so I was just saying you'd probably be better off making blondie drive."

As if on cue, said blondie motioned for the two of you to follow her. "The wait was like forty-five minutes but the bar has the full menu," she said and gestured to three open seats right beside each other. You all gladly took them, sighing as you finally put your feet to rest.

The bartender came around and took your orders and the three of you finally settled in. Conversation came easy, you and Noa bonded over all things basketball. You discussed the calls that were made during the game, how a lot of them were made in favor of UConn because it was their home gym and all. While it hadn't been a complete lie, UConn would've won even without those calls.

You sipped casually on your martini, letting your two friends fall into their own conversation while you busied yourself elsewhere. Your gaze moved from table to table, scouting out someone who could turn your night around from the eventful one it had been. Once again, as though the man above had been listening solely to you, Paige and her teammates waltzed right in.

She had changed out of her basketball uniform, now dressed in a pair of cargos with a long sleeve and a vest.

Instinctively, you straightened up in your chair. They'd seated themselves on the other end of the bar, Paige sitting perfectly in your line of view. You felt like a creep the way you were watching her, but you couldn't help it. There had been a point in time where Paige had been focused on you. Her hands roaming your body as you danced together, her eyes locked on yours only, determined to make you laugh. You smiled unconsciously at the memory of that night, wishing over and over that you could relive it.

When you looked up again Paige was gone, missing from the rest of her group.

"If I didn't know any better, i'd think you were following me," her voice came from close behind you, and you found her standing there with an untouched drink in her hand.

"Well if I remember correctly, I was here first," you smiled, tilting your head. You were hoping you looked cute doing it and not dopey like you had pictured yourself. "So who's really doing the following?"

Paige chuckled, "You got me there." She moved to take the seat beside you, glancing around for a sign that someone was already sitting there. When she didn't find one, she proceeded to get comfortable. You watched contently, sipping your drink with crossed legs and waiting for her to settle. "That's the girlfriend?"

You nodded your head without looking behind you.

"Whatchu got?" you pointed at her glass.

"Dirty Shirley."

"Ah, your favorite."

Paige pursed her lips, a smile threatening to break through. "How'd you know that?" she asked.

"It was all you drank that night," you reminded her.

"Hm," she smirked, "thought you said you didn't remember much."

'Fuck,' you thought to yourself.

"I remember bits and pieces," you shrugged, distracting yourself with your drink.

The blonde playfully narrowed her eyes. She remembered everything from that night, she had only pretended not to because she felt embarrassed that she remembered everything and you didn't. She had visited your Instagram multiple times in the weeks following that, cursing herself for not having the courage to ask you out or do anything other than pointlessly flirt with you.

But here she was, being presented with the opportunity to turn things around, and she planned to take advantage of it.

"So tell me, what else do you remember?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

Two martinis and four rounds of shots later, you and Paige found yourselves in an intense game of pool. She was currently beating you, her only objection to sink the eight ball in while you still had a few balls left to knock in.

You leaned over with focused eyes, carefully lining up the stick with the ball. You could feel Paige's presence beside you, her breath hot on your ear as she spoke. "She's crumbling," the blonde teased. She sensed your stress and she was feeding off it, a thrilled expression upon her face. "Will she sink it? Or will she fumble?"

You pulled the stick back, and with a swift movement, jolted it forward. The ball flew quickly across the table, ricocheting off the side and rolling back toward the middle.

"Oh! She shoots, she misses!" Paige commentated enthusiastically, the alcohol running through her system and giving her a buzz. She pointed her finger annoyingly in your face as she backed away, getting closer and closer to her position behind the eight ball. She mimicked the stance you had done; leaning over the table and zeroing in on the ball.

A beat of silence passed and Paige still hadn't moved, her eyes slowly moved upwards to meet yours. A smile broke out onto her lips, she stood up and twirled the stick around in her hands. "How about we make this a little more interesting," she suggested lowly.

"Interesting how?" you snorted, leaning against the table.

She stepped closer to you, towering over you with a gaze that had you practically foaming at the mouth. If Paige wanted to take you on the pool table right at that moment, you would've let her. Of course, that was just the alcohol talking, and there was quite a lot of it.

"I need one shot to win, and I want a reward when I do."

"A reward, huh?" I raised my eyebrows, noticing her step closer, "What kind of reward do you want?"

"I can think of a few things..." she murmured. Paige was trying hard to be seductive right now, and she couldn't tell if it was working or not. She had already failed to hookup with you once last year at the party, and she'd be damned if she failed again.

"Like what?" you took a step closer, batting your eyelashes at her. You were teasing her and she knew it. The alcohol coursing through your system was giving you a confidence boost like no other, and you couldn't think of a better way to make use of it other than flirting with Paige.

"Well for starters," she sighed, pulling gently on the Creighton jersey that you had yet to change out of, "I don't wanna see this anymore tonight."

"Oh yeah?" you quirked a brow at her.

"Yeah, and when I win, i'm gonna take it off you," she said confidently.

You could feel yourself sweating beneath your clothes, the pool stick in your hand suddenly becoming difficult to grip. You cleared your throat when she finally stepped back, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she repositioned herself on the other side of the table and focused on the ball. With a quick and calculated shot, the ball swiped cleanly across the table before falling into the desired slot.

The noise from the bar seemed to fade away as the realization of Paige's victory sunk in. People drunkenly moved around; dancing, singing, cheering at whatever was playing on tv, but none of that mattered to you anymore. You were unable to focus on anything other than Paige's blue eyes staring into yours, the color seemingly darker than it was just moments ago.

You rolled your eyes and set the stick down on the table, reaching for the hem of the jersey to take it off. Paige's hands quickly found your wrists, her face contorted in utter confusion. "What're you doing?" she asked.

You were playing with her.

"Taking the jersey off, isn't that what you wanted?" you frowned innocently.

Paige scoffed, "Don't test me. Let's go back to mine, you can take it off there."

You both bid your goodbyes to your friends, your roommate tossed you a questioning look that you dismissed with the wave of your hand. You waited impatiently outside for an Uber, Paige holding you close in attempt to shield you from the cold. Her eyes were fixed on your lips, the very ones that were trembling, begging to be warmed up by hers. From the moment she had seen you in the hallway she immediately recognized you, she'd recognize that ass anywhere. She had planned to send you a message tomorrow, running into you tonight had been unexpected but not unwelcome. It just gave her less time to think of what to say.

The car ride back to Paige's house left the two of you bright eyed and rosy cheeked; the radio was switched off and the driver spelled like he had just played in a basketball game and didn't bother to shower afterward. The backseat windows appeared to have a child lock on them, preventing either of you from breathing in fresh air. Between the buzz from all the drinking and toxicity of the car's air, you and Paige couldn't stop yourselves from laughing the whole way there. Her hands didn't leave your legs, but in the midst of all the welcomed chaos you hadn't even noticed.

You rolled out of the car, basking in the cold air with open arms. Paige trailed closely behind you, her hand on the small of your back as the two of you made your way up to her apartment. The second the elevators doors shut and you two were alone, your lips met hers in a searing kiss. She tasted sweet, like Dirty Shirleys and peach CÎROC shots. With your hands tangled in her hair, you pulled her closer, wanting needing to taste more of her.

Her tight grip on your hips, fingertips pressing into you, sent shivers throughout your body. She backed you into the wall, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth while you lowered your guard and let her. So caught up in the taste of you, she almost missed the elevator opening up to her floor. Hardly even breaking the kiss, you two made your way out. Paige knew exactly where to go and you were blindly being led by her, stumbling over your own feet.

Paige fumbled around in her pocket for her keys, roughly jamming them into the lock and pushing the door open. The apartment was dark with the exception of a few city lights pouring in through the windows. Standing in place for a couple seconds longer, you felt the kiss slow down before Paige stopped it completely.

"Fuck," she spoke breathlessly, running a hand through her hair. She reluctantly backed away from you, turning on the lights. With the apartment's kitchen now being fully lit, you could see into the living room as well. The place was beautifully furnished, with little fake plants placed around on the shelves and pictures of Paige and her friends framed up on the walls. Her couch looked far more comfortable than the couch Noa had described earlier and you were dreading having to return to it later tonight.

Paige appeared in front of you, her hands coming up to cup your face. "I want you to go into my bedroom, turn the light on, and then sit down on the bed and wait for me," she instructed lowly. You nodded silently, backing up in the direction of the bedroom while giving Paige the sexiest smile you could muster. In reality, you were absolutely panicking.

Once you got to the bedroom, you switched on the lamp that rested on the bedside table and seated yourself on the edge of the bed. You were unsure of how to sit, or maybe you should try lying down? You decided on taking your shoes and socks off first, neatly dropping them on the side of the bed. You didn't have time to further your thoughts on how to sit because just as you had finished putting your things aside, Paige entered the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She was carrying a bottle of water that she set down on the nightstand, laughing when she noticed you awkwardly staring.

"You look uncomfortable."

"I'm not, just waiting for you," you replied, hoping the shakiness in your voice didn't betray you.

Paige walked over and stood before you, enticingly biting her lip. She leaned down at the same time that you leaned back, a seductive game of cat and mouse as she crawled forward whilst you crawled backward. Your smiles grew when your back hit the headboard and you realized you had nowhere else to go.

"You've been staring at me all night with those eyes," she murmured, and you felt her breath on your lips.

"What eyes?"

Paige rubbed her own nose against yours before she reconnected your lips. She pushed your legs apart with her hands, running them up and down the smooth material of your leggings. You let out a soft moan into her mouth when her knee came in contact with your heated center, bucking your hips in order to feel more of her.

Paige took it upon herself to quicken the pace, instinctively grinding into you. Her lips eventually left yours, trailing down your neck and leaving wet pecks all over. Her teeth bit softly into your skin, marking you as hers. You pressed her further into you, hands snaking under her shirt and roaming all over her back. Her attack on your flesh was violent, the pain pulling a pathetic whimper out of you.

"Fuck, do that again," Paige mumbled against your skin, repeating her actions a little rougher this time to gain a bigger reaction from you.

"Ah, Paige!" you slammed your hand against her shoulder, screwing your eyes shut.

She yanked harshly at the jersey still clinging to your body, "Take this shit off," she spat out. She pushed you down into the mattress, ripping the garment from your body and discarding it somewhere in the room. Your sweatshirt came off next, leaving you clad in only a bra and your leggings. Paige pulled her own shirt over her head, her necklace dangling over your face. You used it to pull her back down into you, hungry for a taste of her again.

Her fingertips crept underneath you and she hooked them onto your bra strap, skillfully unlatching it and pulling it off you. Dilated pupils gazed down at your exposed breasts, her hands hastily coming up to touch them like a child in a toy store. She kneaded, sucked, licked, kissed, her attention focused solely on your hardened nipples, leaving your neglected pussy uncontrollably dripping.

"Paige," you whined desperately, your back arching so far off the bed that Paige's hands forced you back down.

"Hm?" she hummed inattentively.

"I need you..."

A loud popping sound came from Paige letting go of your nipple, holding your stare as she lowered her body closer to where you needed her most. Just as she had hooked her fingers on your bra strap, she hooked them on the waistband of your leggings and slowly pulled them down.

Your panties were downright soaked, earning a mocking laugh from the blonde.

"So wet for me mama," she purred, a smirk on her face.

She took her thumb and ran it straight down your clothed slit. You sucked in a sharp breath, hands already grabbing at the sheets on the bed. To Paige, you looked like an angel lying there, like a good girl with those pleading eyes as you waited to be fucked senseless. Finally, Paige removed your panties and tossed them aside with the rest of your clothes.

She shamelessly played around in your slick, soaking each and every one of her fingers in it.

"Tell me you want it."

"I want it Paige," you breathed out.

Paige's face appeared overtop of you, her jaw clenched tightly in disapproval, "Beg."

You were so turned on you didn't even protest, instead just propped yourself up on your elbows to be closer to her. Her fingers danced around in teasingly slow circles on your clit, a knot gradually forming in your stomach. "Please I want you to fuck me, please baby I need it so bad. Want your fingers inside me," you exhorted pathetically.

Without wasting another second, the blonde inserted two lengthy fingers inside of you. It was like looking into a mirror the way Paige's face copied yours; when you bit your lip, she bit hers, when your mouth involuntarily gaped open, so did hers. She was taunting you, forcing you to see how undone you were becoming. Tightly gripping her bicep, you dug your nails into the large muscle.

Her fingers pumped in and out of you, thumb doing work on your clit to bring you closer to the edge. The squelching noise that filled the room sent heat to your cheeks, and if it wasn't that then it was the look Paige was giving you as she fucked you. She was proud of the mess you were becoming, the mess she was making you. She kissed your lips over and over again even though you couldn't kiss back.

Your head was spinning with thoughts of Paige, the feeling of Paige inside you. Your toes curled involuntarily, noises you had never heard yourself make before echoed off the walls of the room.

"Yes yes yes, i'm close," you cried out, "fuck just like that!"

Paige hurriedly kissed her way back down to your pussy, replacing her thumb with her tongue. She mercilessly sucked you like a starved woman enjoying her first meal, or a guilty one enjoying her last. Her tongue moved nimbly against you, fingers fucking in and out of you and feeling the tightness as you clenched around her.

"You gonna come for me, huh?"

"Uh huh," you fervently nodded.

"Hmm," she hummed into you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge, "let me hear you say it. I want to hear you say it."

"Yes! I'm gonna come for you..."

Paige expertly curled her fingers inside you, lying her tongue flat against your clit and forcing you to do none other than let go. The knot that had been building in your stomach finally fell apart, your legs snapping shut and trapping Paige's head there. You pushed and pulled at her, your desires becoming fuzzy as the orgasm swallowed you whole. Moans and strings of curse words unconsciously spilled from your lips. They were a stark contrast to the sweet things Paige cooed as she left kisses along your stomach, and your chest, and back up to your lips.

"Such a good girl," she whispered on your lips, "you were so good for me."

You shivered at the empty feeling you got from Paige pulling her fingers out of you, they were covered in the same slick that her chin was, glistening under the lamp's light. You smiled tiredly at her, snaking your arms around her neck and pressing your lips to hers.

"You tired?" she asked, observing your face.

"Yeah."

She pulled away from you and reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, twisting it open and bringing it to your lips. "Sleep here tonight," she said, "I can take you where you need to go in the morning."

Swallowing the water you said, "You sure?"

"Yeah, you probably can't walk after that anyway."

"Shut up," you snorted hitting her chest.

The two of you settled in bed together, your naked body finding warmth against her clothed one as she cuddled you close to her. You smiled to yourself, nuzzling your face in her neck and drifting off to sleep.

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Crepic: Letters

Synopsis: What if Cross’s ‘secret admirer’ was none other than Epic, a scientist attempting to establish communication with alternate universes?

Rating: Teen (just in case because of swearing and the characters’ backstories)

Pairing: Cross/Epic

Word Count: 1,567

Chapter One: Dear Stranger,

There was a letter on Sans’s desk.

He paused at the sight of it. He usually didn’t get letters, most of the mail directed to XGaster from the King and Queen. The letters he did receive were usually from Frisk, the human prince. Frisk was his childhood best friend and would often write to him either for playdates or for casual conversation. Usually the latter consisted of him gushing endlessly over the spider monster in the Guard, Muffet.

Sans thought his obvious crush was adorable, and couldn’t help the twang of pity he felt for his human friend who remained in the body of a young child even as the monsters around him shed their stripes, unable to receive anything other than rejection for his apparent youth.

Addressed to “Anyone On The Other Side”. Quickly inspecting the letter and flipping it over with an inquisitive hum.

What a strange term. ‘Anyone on the other side’ of what? The fence? An allude to the ever classic joke of the chicken crossing the road?

Or…

Sans gasped.

Wowie! Could it be? He finally received his first fan mail as part of the Guard?!

He knew he looked too cool in his badass armor, and with this letter he (potentially) held within his hands definitive proof! At last, he would bathe in the shower of magnificent affection he deserved!

Any recognition of his character would always brighten his day. Especially when his father, XGaster, gave so little of it…

Sans eagerly and carefully began the meticulous process of removing his armor, dismantling the pieces one by one until they were nice and clean. Gingerly hanging it into its suit container in his closet, he picked up the letter and sat down, ripping it open with a phalange and slipping out the singular piece of paper from the inside. A small blue square the size of his thumb metacarpal slipped out of the envelope as well, falling onto his desktop with a tiny clink.

He dismissed the strange tile after a quick once over ensured it was not some kind of bug or malignant spyware and turned his attention back to the paper. Unfolding it, his eyelights began to read.

Testing, testing, 1 2 3

…Huh?

That was certainly an interesting choice for a starter sentence, though Sans had to admit it got brownie points from him for its ingenuity.

Whelp, here we go! Hopefully this spooky action at a distance doesn’t get me ghosted. It would really lift my spirits if this actually reached somebody, and if somebody wrote back.

Sans chuckled. Although he wasn’t sure what the writer meant by ‘spooky action’, he did appreciate solid puns and clever jokes.

Theoretically, if my math mathed right, this should arrive in an alternate re—

Written in black penned ink, whatever the other had written was scribbled out.

—whoops, can’t say that. If I am right then I’d kick off some kind of butterfly effect, knowing my rotten luck. Can’t have that. Anywho, if somebody does get this, do me a solid and write a letter back. Put the pod, the little thingy I’m sending over, inside the envelope when you’re done after you push the tiny button in the middle. And hopefully this’ll be a two-way trip and send it back.

If not, oh well. I tried. Ya miss all the shots you don’t take, amiright?

…My name’s not Frank, but I’ll be real with ya pal, I really do hope this works.

Laters gators, A Friendly, Far-Off Neighborhood Bruh

Sans flipped the letter over just to be sure that was it, and let out a small, perplexed noise. No further writings or any other strange devices. He picked up the pod and dangled it across his black-gloved fingers and gently tapped the letter in his other hand.

It wasn’t a letter of admiration he’d been hoping for, but it was a letter that had him no less intrigued. The casual, almost informal way the sender wrote, the purposeful witholdance of a name or address. All this, including the odd device he was currently running across his digits, he should probably take it to father and let him inspect it for himself before Sans did anything.

He felt himself whither a little inside after that contemplation. He could already picture the quiet, sullen disinterest. Maybe leaving with a curt remark that he is busy, or needs to resume his work. No, Sans should be a good soldier son and leave his father be while he thought about how to address his impromptu pen pal.

For starters with a pen or pencil, he thought, snickering at his internal quip. What would be the harm? He’d greet the mysterious author back, perhaps make his own joke, and hope the letter successfully reaches them since they implied it might not.

Sans couldn’t help but hope that it did work.

Frisk had been…distant, for quite some time now. The Royal Guardsman wasn’t sure what had happened, only knowing that ever since they were kids, there’s been this sadness in the human’s eyes, a contradiction of both sullen resignation and steely determination. The moments of time they spent together in joy farther and farther in between.

He missed his best friend.

He missed having a friend.

Mind made up, he opened his drawer up and searched for his favorite pen with the tacos decal that Papyrus had got him for his birthday and a piece of paper and unused envelope. Uncorking the cap, he set to work, pen scratching along the paper as he hastily wrote his reply, the scritches filling the silence of his empty room.

Elsewhere, the co-Royal Scientist idly spun around in his swivel chair, languidly kicking his feet in and out to repeat the cycle whenever his momentum slowed. The clock ticking by behind him echoing in the otherwise empty room. Machines of various designs hummed with electricity. The others had already gone home for the day, long discouraged by the same unsatisfactory experiments depicting the same depressive results.

The Barrier was unbreakable. No one monster, let alone all of Monsterkind, could escape.

While the others including his dear old man (ugh, gross, just jokingly saying that gave him the ick) sought the comfort of whatever idle fancy they desired outside of work, Sans preferred anywhere that wasn’t there. Under the same roof with the same cold, aloof man he had the sincere displeasure of calling ‘father’.

And he couldn’t help but stay and hope that his gambit paid off. He didn’t care all too much about saving the Underground. Gaster’s metaphorical heart was as dark and cold as the prison all of monsterkind found themselves entrapped in. He’d fought long and hard his entire life to make sure none of that darkness ever put out the bright light of his younger brother.

If he was right, if this worked, he could get him and his brother onto the Surface. And potentially, eventually, all of the Underground.

A soft buzzing hum of static. Probably one of the appliances, he mused. When did they last get that fridge checked out? He’d make a note of it.

Instead of trying to get everybody out all at once and failing, Sans would do it one by one and succeed.

If this worked, that is.

It had been months. Who knew if he was even successful?

Then again, who knew if time was constant for every individual universe? For all he knew, his message could’ve gotten lost in the stone ages. Although it would be the coolest thing ever if he could ride a T-Rex, Flintstones style.

He spins around, practically slouching completely back onto the swivel chair. There’s the wall again. The fridge. Gaster’s creepy as all hell determination extraction machine. The wall. His desk. Fridge. Wall. Creepy doohickey. Wall. Letter on his desk—

Wait. Letter?

Sans sat up so fast he fell up and over his chair with a yelp. Landed flat on his face with his legs and lab coat over his head. Ever grateful no one was around to witness his embarrassing tumble he quickly stood back up to grab the envelope and rip it open with slightly trembling phalanges.

Dear Mystery Writer,

Receiving your letter was quite the pleasant surprise! I’m not sure what you meant by ‘spooky action at a distance’, but don’t worry, I don’t have any intention of leaving you at a dead end, and if you are open to it, would like to continue these messages. From what I’ve heard, nothing lifts the spirits like clever wordplay over the grave-vine.

Sans chuckled, tentative grin widening further. So they liked jokes too, huh?

If so, I can promise I’m not too boo-ring of a conversationalist.

Another small buff of laughter. Well, they sure did uphold their word. His crummy mood was all but gone now.

What do you say, mystery writer? Fr—

Scribbled out blurb for the rest of the word and the sentence continued.

Penpals?

Sincerely, A Magnificently Friendly Neighborhood Dude

Sans couldn’t believe it. He was right. He was right.

He’d successfully established communication with another universe. With someone from that alternate reality.

Holy multiversal theory, Batman!

Sans’s soul pounded in his Soul like a drum, joy unrestrained as he scoured his messy desk for an unused envelope and a blank piece of paper. He had a letter to write.

And a penpal to befriend.

[wordsbyrian]

Skater Girl - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: Childhood friends almost always drift apart but sometimes they find their ways back together. This fic is set in between the 2015 WWC and the 2016 Olympics.

A/N: I was watching a documentary on my favorite skateboarder Andrew Reynolds in which he talked about his battle with addiction and this is what came of it.

Trigger warning: Heavy discussion of drug and alcohol abuse, jokes about sobriety

For as long as you can remember Alex Morgan has been your best friend.

Just like any pair of childhood friends worth their salt, the two of you knew everything about one another.

At least you did from the ages of 3 to 14.

But like all great childhood friendships, you started to drift apart in high school. She had started playing club soccer and was quickly becoming the face of the varsity soccer team and you found that you had more fun hanging out with the skateboarders and stoners than waiting for her to be able to make time for you.

So while she was busy becoming an all-American and a top college prospect, you were rounding up amateur sponsorships for companies like Blind and Independent Trucks.

Then when she was running all over people at Cal, you were dropping out of the photography program at UCLA because you were going pro and collecting sponsors like a child on Halloween.

Overall, you hadn’t spoken to her in nearly 10 years, which is why you’re so shocked to see her standing over you as you lay at the bottom of one of the largest hills in LA, cracked helmet still on your head.

“Oh my god, are you ok,” she asks, bending over to try and look you in the eyes.

“Alex,” you say, still somewhat out of it. “What are you doing here?”

It takes her a moment, but as you sit up and take off your helmet, you can see the realization bloom in her eyes.

“Y/N/N,” she asks, getting a nod in response. “Are you ok, I saw you smash your head into the ground.”

As you go to answer you begin to hear the shouts of the crew you’re filming with as they finally make their way to the bottom of the hill.

“Trips, dude, we thought you just died,” Jay, one of your best friends, shouts as he gets close enough, “Who’s this?”

“This is Alex, my childhood best friend and world-champion soccer player,” you say, “Also, clearly not dead, the brain bucket saved me. Go get the car, I’m ready to call it a day, I’ve got road rash on my entire back.”

Watching for a moment as he runs back to the rest of your friends, you turn back to Alex still staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to watch me slam like that, you used to hate that.”

“Just found out that I still do, that was one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen,” she says, helping you to your feet, “Your body flew through the air.”

Grimacing a little at the feeling of your shirt against the raw skin on your back, you pick your board up and say, “I’m fine I promise, nothing that a shower, Neosporin, and some sleep can’t fix.”

The two of you stare at each other silently for a few moments and you can feel all the things you felt for her growing up come flooding back.

Fortunately, the sound of Jay laying on the horn of your car breaks you free of the hold she’s always seemed to have on you.

“I, uh, I’ve gotta go,” you say, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.

As you start backing away she reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“Meet me at our spot tomorrow,” Alex says hopefully, “3 p.m?”

“I can do that.”

She smiles before letting you go and walking back to what you can only assume is her car.

Making your way to your ride, you aren’t surprised when the second you climb in you’re greeted by the cacophonous noise of all your friends asking you what just happened.

“Don’t worry about it.”

The next day finds you rolling up to the far back corner of your childhood park where you and Alex would go when you simultaneously needed escapes from your homes.

You hear Alex before you see her, her raspy voice ringing out, “You still bring that thing everywhere you, huh?”

“In all fairness, I get paid to bring it everywhere now,” you say, taking a seat next to her.

“You went pro? I remember that being all you talked about in middle school.”

“Sophomore year of college,” you say with a grin, “I signed like three pro sponsorships in a week and dropped out of UCLA, it was barely two months into the school year.”

“That’s awesome, I’m happy it worked out for you.”

“Forget me, Lex, you’ve got an Olympic gold and World Cup,” you practically shout at her, watching as a blush appears on her cheeks.

“It wasn’t just me, it was a team effort.”

“Whatever bro, I saw that goal you scored in Manchester against Canada and the one against Colombia at the World Cup.”

“Okay fine, some of it was me,” she laughs.

Then before you know it, the afternoon trails into the evening, and the two of you spend hours talking about everything that has happened since you graduated high school.

But the one thing you refuse to answer, no matter how much she asks, is how you’ve acquired the nickname Trips.

That is until Alex says something so shocking that you know you have to tell her the truth.

“You know we thought you were dead or in jail,” she says, voice becoming thick with emotion.

“What?”

“When you didn’t come back at Thanksgiving in 2008 and your parents refused to even be in the same room as anyone who mentioned you, we thought the worst,” she explains.

“Fuck,” you say, “Alex, you have to know that I never meant to put your family through that, I was just dealing with some things.”

“What could you possibly have been going through that you couldn’t call us? I was your best friend, we’d known each other our entire lives.”

“Alex, be serious, we haven’t been best friends since the summer before 9th grade and you know it.”

“Y/N/N,” she starts but you cut her off.

“It’s fine really, it happens, but I wasn’t going to just dump my problems on you after not being around. That would’ve made me a shitty person.”

“What problems were so big that you had to face them alone?”

“Addiction,” you say, turning to stare out at the park.

You can feel her staring at the side of your head in silence but you don’t give her a chance to say anything.

“I’m like 4 years clean now but I’ve been addicted to alcohol and other stuff since I was about 15. In high school, your dad once found me passed out in the driver’s seat of my car smelling like a distillery with puke down the front of my clothes,” you explain. “It got really bad after I went pro and I almost died before I got clean.” Taking a deep breath you continue, “That game against Canada at the Olympics was my second day in rehab, I was so sick with withdrawal symptoms but I remember watching the ball come off your head at the last minute.”

“Can you look at me please,” she says, voice shaking, “I need you to look at me.”

Turning your head, you’re somewhat surprised to see the sight of Alex Morgan with tears streaming down her face.

“I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for getting clean, I’m happy you're alive and I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t come to me,” she says, tears flowing.

“Quit crying, you know I hate it when you cry,” you say, hoping that the reaction you used to have as a kid, would get her to smile like it used to.

It does and you get to watch as she smiles and wipes the tears from her face.

“Are you done now?”

“I’m done now,” she says with a laugh.

“Cool, your apology isn’t accepted by the way.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you have nothing to be sorry for, bozo,” you say, “Both your parents and my parents tried to get me help while we were still in school and it didn’t work. So don’t try to apologize to me again, got it?”

“You’re still the nicest asshole I know,” she says, “who the fuck yells at a girl for crying?”

“An idiot whose nickname is based on her being a drug addict,” you guess.

That doesn’t get the laugh that you were hoping for but it’s enough to get you a small smile.

As the hours continue to pass, the conversation gets lighter as you reminisce about the crazy things you got up to as kids.

Eventually, you both have to leave but before you do Alex manages to secure a promise that you’ll attend her game in a couple of days with no new bumps, bruises, or scrapes.

So that’s exactly what you do.

That Saturday afternoon sees you walking down the steps in the stadium to your seat, which thanks to some magic pulled by Alex is so close that you feel like you’re on the field.

When you reach your seat you’re not completely surprised to see Alex’s parents and her sisters but they don’t seem surprised to see you.

“Y/N/N,” her mom asks in shock when she sees you coming down the row.

“Uh yeah,” you say, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck. “Hey Morgans.”

Before you have a moment to fully process what’s happening, you’re being pulled into a hug by Mr. Morgan and passed to each of the women in his family, but you end up back in his arms at the end.

“You have no idea how glad we are to see you,” he says.

“I think I might,” you reply. “Alex filled me in on what your worries were, they were pretty close up until a few years ago.”

That gets a few sad smiles out of the family which lets you know that Alex has filled them in on what you’ve been up to.

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” Mrs. Morgan says.

“It kind of is,” Jeni says, with Jeri nodding behind her.

“Jeri’s right,” you say, “Besides since I’m sober now, so you have to laugh at all my jokes about not being sober because I pulled myself together.”

“That’s not how it works, kid,” Mr. Morgan says.

“Welp it is now.”

It’s at that moment the teams begin walking out for the anthem and as though she could feel your eyes on her Alex immediately turns towards you, a grin appearing on her face as you lock eyes.

The first half of the game is fast and physical and you find yourself flinching every time Alex is taken down by a defender but just like when you were kids, she’s back on her feet before you can blink.

The half comes around and the US is up 2-0 but you still feel the need to get up and move around.

“Hey, I’m gonna get some tenders or something, does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Jeni says.

“Or you could tell me what you want,” you respond.

“I’m not making you buy me a beer.”

“I know that I’m not dressed like it right now but I can more than afford to buy you a 15-dollar beer,” you say before you understand why she’s protesting. “Fine, you can come with me but I’m still paying for it.”

When you get to the concession stand you ask her what kind of beer she wants but that isn’t what she’s focused on.

“When are you going to tell my sister that you’re in love with her?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Rolling her eyes, she speaks slower like you are some kind of dumbass, “When are you going to tell Alex you’ve been in love with her since forever?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, moving forward with the line.

“And I’m Elvis Presley,” Jeni sighs and runs a hand down her face.

From there the conversation switches to how you're doing with skateboarding and your sobriety, so you promise to show her some of the clips you’ve put together for your next video part.

That’s why it’s so surprising when the first thing out of her mouth when you get back to your seats is: “Mom, Dad, how long have Alex and Y/N been in love with each other?”

You’re even more surprised when neither of the elder Morgans looks up from their phones before answering: “Forever.”

“And how long have they both been acting like they're not?”

“Since at least the 7th grade, maybe earlier,” Jeri says.

“Can I just eat my tenders in peace,” you beg, not wanting them to notice the blush rapidly spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

Luckily, before anyone can respond the teams are trotting back out for the second half.

Unfortunately, the other team is much more physical in the second half, so you have to watch with bated breath as Alex gets taken down twice as much as she did in the first without any fouls being called.

Every time she hits the ground you wince a little bit harder, much to the amusement of both her sisters.

Then, there’s a corner in the 88th minute and you get to watch, in what feels like slow motion, as Alex gets her head to the ball and sends it into the back of the net.

“Fuck yeah, Alex,” you scream, leaping to your feet with the rest of the crowd.

You know she can’t hear you but the smile she sends in your direction makes it feel like she can.

Moments later, the match is over and after quickly shaking the hands of the opposing team and a short huddle, Alex is racing towards where you're sitting like she didn’t just play a full 90.

Much to your surprise, and her sisters’ enjoyment, she ignores the other Morgans completely to climb the barrier and pulls you into a hug.

“You came,” she whispers into your ear, trying to be heard over the nearby fans screaming her name.

“I did,” you respond. “You played amazing, that goal was magic.”

“Are you coming to dinner with us,” she asks, still not letting go.

“Yup, your parents have designated me as your chauffeur.”

She nods so you let her go, not at all shocked by the smile on her face as she greets her family.

It doesn’t last long though because one second Jeri is whispering in her ear and the next Alex is glaring back at her and dropping to the ground to join her teammates in greeting fans.

You and the Morgans stay for a bit watching her before making your way out of the stadium and to the parking lot. There you make promises to meet them at the restaurant, hauling Al along with you.

You don’t have to wait very long on your own in the lot, at least you don’t think you do but time does tend to get a bit weird when you’re practicing a new trick.

It's the sound of Alex’s voice yelling at you to do a kickflip that breaks your focus, (You do of course land a kickflip for her.)

“Not bad,” she says, reaching your car and throwing her stuff in the back before climbing in.

“I do aim to impress.”

The ride to the restaurant is calm, the only real noise being the sound of her playlist intermingling with the sound of LA traffic.

When you park and go to get out, you’re stopped by her relocking the doors.

You try to unlock them but she just locks them again, in a pattern that continues four times before you turn to look at her.

“Seriously Al?”

“I want to ask you something,” she says, “but you’ve spent the whole ride trying your hardest to ignore me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring.”

She cuts you off, “Yes you were. What did my sisters  say to you because I thought we were gonna try being friends again.”

“They didn’t say,” cut off again.

“Just tell me what they said.”

You take a moment to think about whether or not you should and the somewhat desperate look on her face leads you to tell her.

“They said that you’ve been in love with me since forever. Your parents did too but that’s not possible,” you tell her, “because I definitely would’ve noticed if you were. I mean I literally spent our entire childhoods trying to impress you so I think Jeni and Jeri were just messing with me like they used to because you’re way too awesome to have ever been in love..”

You're cut off again but this time by the feeling of Alex grabbing you by the back of the neck and pressing her lips to yours.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, she’s pulling away which is the opposite of what you want so you pull her back in so your lips meet again.

The second kiss is much longer than the first but before you can deepen it she pulls back.

“I am in love with you,” she says, slightly breathless, “and I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You smile so widely that to an outsider it might’ve looked painful, “That’s awesome but there’s no way you’ve loved me longer than I’ve loved you.”

“Whatever Y/N/N,” she kisses you again, a slight peck this time, “let’s head inside before my parents start freaking out.”

She unlocks the car doors and gets out, stopping briefly to make sure you’re following her.

And you are, just like you did when you were kids and just as you will be for the rest of your lives.

[newtthetranswriter]

heLLOOOOO can i ask for some baji scenario?? a fluffy one, where baji and reader have to babysit some relative's child and then the child starts to have fun with baji's hair? yk the braids, some cute clips etc... and then baji shows up to the gang's meeting with the new hairstyle....

rest is up to you!!!! it doesn't have to be romantic tho, i see it as a more platonic/friendly scenario?

YOU GOT THIS MY FRIEND AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!! love u 💞💞

Word count:982

Warning:none I think other than people may be a little ooc as I haven't written much for Tokyo revengers but I do want to do more.

Pairing: Keisuke Baji x reader (platonic)

A/n: Hello Ness, thanks for requesting, I enjoyed writing this even if it seems a little clunky. I gotta say writing on my phone on a long ass road trip is a little difficult but I hope you like it. Also in this everyone is alive and well. The kids in the story are modeled after my own niece and nephew, who I will hopefully see on this trip. Let me know if you like it or want more. My requests are still open. Anyway, remember to hydrate or diedrate, and have a good day.

It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend hanging out with my best friend Baji, but unfortunately my older sister decided she wanted an afternoon without her kids. Being the only one without 'important' plans, I was volunteered to take care of them for the afternoon. Being busy with a nine year old and a six year old I forgot to cancel my plans with Baji.

While trying to get my nephew to sit and watch a movie with his sister, I heard a knock at the door. I quickly ran to the door hoping it was nothing, only to be greeted by a slightly upset Baji.

"Oh shit, Keisuke I'm so sorry. I was in the middle of getting ready to meet up with you when my parents told me I had to stay home to watch my sister's kids and they haven't stopped running around since. I completely forgot to text you." I ramble out my explanation.

As he was about to speak my nephew ran up behind me grabbing my arm. "Y/n, Amara took the remote and won't put it back. She's trying to buy movies." The nine year old tattled on his younger sister.

"Sorry I have to deal with this, you can come in if you want." I said moving back to the living room and grabbing the remote from my niece's hand. "I will put on a movie and that's what we are gonna watch." I said turning on Frozen, knowing it'll keep the kids attention for at least a little while.

I then remembered Baji was here and turned back to him. "So, we can reschedule or you can chill here with this circus, it's up to you?" I asked.

He paused for a moment before responding. "I can help you watch them, it can't be much different than keeping Chifuyu and Kazutora out of trouble." Baji then sat on the couch next to my niece and started talking with her about the movie.

After finishing both Frozen movies, I got the kids a snack before they decided they wanted to play with some of the toys they keep here. My niece immediately grabbed a brush and butterfly hair clips from her little makeup kit.

She ran up to Baji with the cutest smile before asking her questions."Mister, could I do your hair? It's so pretty, like a princess." She was so sweet but knowing Keisuke isn't a fan of people messing with his hair I was about to tell her to find something else to do, when he spoke first.

"Sure why not. Just don't pull any out, get it." He said picking her up and placing her where she could get to his hair.

After about twenty minutes of My niece doing Baji's hair, she proudly announced she was done. Baji accepted the little hand mirror he was offering inspecting what had become of his hair. "I love it thank you, Amara, it looks wonderful. Don't you agree Y/n?" He asked, turning for me to see.

I held back a laugh as I took in what my niece had done to his hair. The longest part of his hair was in what looked like the best attempt at an Elsa braid my niece's little hands could manage, while there were also different colored butterfly hair clips throughout the braid and his bangs. "It really suits you Kei." I complimented.

At that moment my nephew then grabbed Baji's arm and pulled him to help him play a video game, saying something about it being 'his turn with Baji'. I smiled glad my friend was here to help me with these two.

Eventually the kids decided they wanted to sit at the table and color. Keisuke and I both seemed to space the fact that his hair was still in the messy style my niece had done. We also lost track of time because it was starting to get dark out and a sharp ringing blared through the dining room.

Realizing it was his phone, Keisuke excused himself saying he'd be right back. Only a moment later he walked in and explained he forgot there was a Toman meeting tonight and that the phone call was Chifuyu trying to figure out where he was. After saying goodbye to my niece and nephew he said a final good night and hopped on his bike to the meeting.

P.o.v change to the Toman meeting

As Baji arrived at the shrine he realized his hair was still in the messy braid and full of butterfly clips. He sighed as he decided the best way to prevent him tearing out his hair was to wait till he could take it down when he got home. With one last sigh, he made his way to the meeting ready to deal with the inevitable jokes to come.

"Nice butterflies dude, finally decided to spice up the look for once" Came the slightly teasing voice of Chifuyu as he noticed Baji had arrived.

The brunette just rolled his eyes and shoved the blonde's shoulder. Walking to his place towards the front of the meeting, ignoring all the comments being thrown his way.

When the meeting was dismissed it seemed all of the division captains decided to make their own jokes.

"I like the braid but the butterflies are too much. Maybe try a bow next time dude." Came Kazutora's jest at his best friend.

"Hook me up with your stylist, they did a great job" was shouted by Smiley as he laughed walking away with his twin.

Mikey even made a few comments about the look. But Baji just brushed the comments off, he had a fun afternoon sure it was what he had originally had planned but it was fun. The guys can make all the jokes they want.

[handsome-john]

Color in Your Cheeks

Hi, this is some writing I didn't feel like putting up on my ao3 because it's for all intents and purposes its OC work. (I mean both of these characters are named on the SCP wiki for one line each, and then I abstracted a bunch of stuff about them from canon adjacent material)

Uh, this is about 4000 words, under the cut.

_

About two hours ago Alicja’s radio stopped picking up any signals, only getting a few staticky hisses when she felt like fiddling with the dials. One hour ago the road went from concrete to dirt, and to a few barely defined tracks in the dirt. On all sides she's surrounded by dense trees and underbrush. Were she a touch more sensible, she'd be concerned putting herself so far from where anyone could reach her.

Rocks and sticks grind under her tires, sending her on a very bumpy ride. She may already be at her destination if she didn't fear exceeding ten miles per hour. She’s always been cautious about reckless driving ever since she lost her brother. If just to have something to fill the silence, she flips on her recorder to get some of her thoughts down.

“I am Alicja Kondraki, and this is week fourteen, I believe, of my road trip across the country.” She pauses to readjust the map she has laid out in the passenger’s seat. “Hopefully I'll be reaching my destination soon. I've heard tell that this place is haunted by some sort of creature. That's cool! I love hearing about local creatures.”

Finally, she spots her first sign of people. She passes a few rickety houses, with people lounging on their porches or inside. And just like that, the forest folds open to reveal a whole town tucked inside. A small podunk community she finds herself eager to explore.

Her car comes to a halt off the side of the road, it'll be easier to make her way around on foot anyway. In her bag she double checks she has all of her important items. A water bottle, a notepad, her recorder, and of course a pocket knife and bottle of mace. Not that she expects anything from what she's sure are lovely folks, but she's been doing this job long enough to plan ahead.

Slinging her bag around her shoulders and making sure to hang her camera around her neck, Alicja steps out. Her track boots dig into the dirt. It's hot out, around mid noon, the smell of wood smoke wafts through the air. She runs her fingers through her short hair and puts on her green flatback.

She feels eyes follow her. Another thing she expected. There's not a chance she'd pass as a local in these parts. Taking a moment to look herself over in her side view mirror. She wants to give herself a messier look, someone unprofessional, someone you'd feel comfortable walking up to and sharing your thoughts with.

There's a man sitting on a lawn chair outside of a grocery store. He's wearing sunglasses, but she can tell his eyes are on her. She approaches, from an angle so it doesn't look like she's walking straight towards him. 

“Hello!” She says. The lights buzz, a long low drone, and little bugs tap, tap, tap against the glass. He regards her with a neutral expression. “My name is Alicja Kondraki. I'm a reporter from out of town. You may have heard of me from the news or from my radio show.”

“We don't get the radio out here,” he says, voice thick. Alicja squints, sunlight reflecting right off the window into her eyes. 

“Well I heard rumors that you've had some local cryptid sightings! Made enough of a splash I heard about it from three towns over.” She laughs, hoping to come off as playful. His expression remains the same.

“This’d be the place, ‘ay,” he says with a curt nod.

“Would you care to give a statement for my report?” She pulls out a pen and pad.

All at once, he stiffens, sitting up straight with his teeth clenched. Instinctively, Alicja stiffens up too, ready to defend herself should it come to that. 

“Now don't go believin’ that I'm out here believin’ in that hoodoo monster bullshit,” The chair creaks as he leans in to snap at her. “And I ain't about to let you paint me a crackpot fool!” 

The store’s front door opens with a soft bell chime. Out steps an older woman with gray streaks in her hair holding a broom. She prods at the man with the bristles.

“Marion if you don’t shut yer damn trap imma hit you!” Her gaze lands on Alicja and softens. “Oh my! Now I don't think I know you!” 

“I’m from out of town,” Alicja says, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Well why don’t you come on in! I’ll get you some ice tea!” She holds the door open.

The mechanical buzzing is even louder inside of the store. Alicja would prefer to get out there and get a few different statements before she loses daylight, but she’s not one to deny an ice cold drink on a day like today. Marion huffs as the door closes behind her.

“Have a seat, sweetheart! I’ll be right with you!” the older woman, Henritte according to her name tag, disappears into a room labeled Employees Only. She returns moments later with a pitcher and two glasses of ice. 

“Thank you so much!” Nothing like southern hospitality to make a road trip worth it. 

“Now did I hear correctly that you were a reporter?”

“I am a reporter! I was hoping to do a report on your Blackwoods Beast as I’ve heard it called?”

Henritte clasps her hands together. “Oh this is so exciting! We call it that because it only shows up when the woods are pitch black,” she says in a low tone. “You know I had a run in with the beast once!”

“Is that so? Would you like to tell your story for my report?” Alicja asks, brandishing her recorder. 

“Would I?!” Henritte exclaims, perhaps a little too eagerly. Alicja clicks the record button. “It was the middle of the night, when I heard this rustling in the backyard. And there I see it! Hunched over my garbage! It looked at me with the biggest glowing eyes I’ve ever seen!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“No! It stood up right and walked like a man! Ran off when it saw me watching too!”

A vagrant then, Alicja thinks, but decides not to say. People tend to tell better stories when you don’t try to pick too many holes in them.

“Everyone in this town has seen the beast stalking our streets or in the woods! Yet no one’s had the guts yet to confront it directly, lest it eat them!”

Alicja nods. “Do you have any reports of people getting attacked or hurt by the beast?”

“Penny next door claims she got into a fight with it! Barely escaped with her life!”

This is how Alicja finds herself practically led by the arm to every person in town with even a vague recollection of the beast. A lot of excitable folks looking to find their name in the next issue of the paper, and a lot of stories that are most certainly made up on the spot. It’s about par for the course when it comes to projects like this. 

“I really appreciate how much you’ve shown me around today,” Alcija says, “but I’m looking for somewhere I can stay the night?”

“My dearest Ava will let you rent out a room for the night!” Replies Henritte, pointing towards an older looking two story house. “Let me introduce you!”

Henritte marches Alicja boldly into the old house. Past the threshold Alicja is immediately hit in the face by how cold it is in here, and by the sweet smell of tea and baked goods. In the back of her mind she recalls a horror story of a man who checks into a suspiciously cheap yet very nice hotel and is poisoned and taxidermied by the kind looking owner.

“Can I help you?” Alicja jumps, noticing now the older woman sitting in a rocking chair beside her. She opens her mouth, ready to rattle off her name, profession, why she’s here-

“This is my friend Kondraki! She’d like to rent a room for a few nights,” Henritte says, squeezing Alicja’s arm. 

“Just two nights actually, I can pay upfront.” 

“Go ahead and sign your name in the guestbook.” The old woman, Ava Alicja presumes, points to a gilded notebook sitting on a coffee table. Alicja, curious as she is, flips through the other pages for recognizable names before writing her own. “Twenty dollars for the two nights.”

“That’s really cheap for a place like this,” she says, pulling out a wrinkled twenty.

“Your room is on the third floor, bathroom is across the hall, try not to make too much noise,” Ava drones on, long and slow. 

“Alright, well thank you very much! I’ll try to be considerate.” Alicja makes her way upstairs, leaving the two women behind. She shrugs off her bag, makes of pile of her stuff in the corner of the bedroom, and lays down on the little bed pushed up in the corner. 

After gathering info from the locals, Alicja’s next step was, of course, finding this beast herself. She likes to consider herself a very prepared woman, she keeps a shotgun in the back of her truck as the ultimate just in case. Still, after getting some rest, she finds herself popping into the local hardware store for extra flashlight batteries and a box of shotgun shells, should it really come to that. 

“Don’t I know yer face from somewhere?” Asks the man behind the counter as Alicja sets down her items. Freddie, the smudge on his nametag reads. 

“I’m a reporter,” Alicja says. 

Freddie snaps his fingers. “I seen you in the papers! Y’know it’s the darndest thing, I grab my paper every morning but it dog gone disappears before I can read it!” 

Do you think the beast is stealing your papers? She wants to joke, but she has some restraint. “I hope you find where they are,” she says instead, taking and pocketing her stuff. “Have a nice night!”

“Now you stay safe out there!”

…

It’s exactly a quarter past midnight when Alicja steps out of her room and into the night. She waits until she’s outside to slip on her boots, so as to not make too much noise. She pulls her jacket tightly around herself to keep the chill away from her. 

When she first explained her plans to her boss, the biggest question she got was why. She, through her own wit and determination, made a name for herself in a line of work that didn’t favor women like her. Why does she care about these stories? Why waste the time on a risky venture? Why even bother when she was doing just fine where she was? Now, she wishes she could’ve explained that this is why she had to do this, had to put herself in places no one else would.

With a thunk, her trunk pops open and she draws out her shotgun. Last resort, she reminds herself as she gets the feel for it in her hands. 

“This is Alicja Kondraki,” she says into her recorder. “About to begin my field report. Should this recording be recovered and myself not, I request that this recorder and all my writings be sent back to my boss. The shipping address is-”

Something big crunches behind her. She jumps, finger slipping and ending her recording. A bit early in the night to get so jumpy…

With some tape, she fumbles from several minutes in the dark trying to tape her flashlight to her shotgun. It’s something she’s seen in her hunting TV shows and it seems useful to try tonight. Her flashlight adds too much weight to the end of her shotgun for her to hold it out comfortably, but she’s determined to stick with it. 

They weren’t kidding when they called this the Blackwoods, even with her flashlight it’s hard to see what’s in front of her with how thick the trees are. A cold wind blows through the trees, it sounds like a howl. The distinct smell of an animal den wafts through the hair, telling her to change direction. Alicja twists her ankle tripping over the thick tree roots and faceplants into the ground. She tugs her jacket tighter around herself and carries on.

There’s shoe prints in the mud, she almost didn’t notice them. She lifts up her own foot to double check that these tracks aren’t her own. Nope, the pattern is different, there’s another person here in the woods with her. She could follow where the footprints are going, but she decides instead to follow where they came from.

It’s a long walk. One of those many moments where she wishes she had her brother by her side in this. Alas, she’s been by herself for quite some time now. 

Without fanfare, a shack appears. There’s no way Alicja would have found this place by pure happenstance, she’s not even sure which direction she came from. She circles it a few times, noting how every window is boarded up and the sharp spikes buried in the ground around it. It’s completely pitch black, but in the quiet of the night Alicja can hear the buzz of a generator. 

She gets a few pictures, once again struggling with both the flashlight and the camera. She hops over the spikes and ascends the porch steps. There’s fresh dirt on the wooden steps. She presses her ear against the door, picking up a shuffling noise inside. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the door. 

All noise stops. Alicja clears her throat. 

“Hello! Sorry to bother you at this hour! I’m a reporter from out of town!”

Nothing.

“My name is Alicja K-kondraki. I’d like to ask you a few questions?”

Nothing. Had she misheard? Was she shouting at an abandoned building? Should she-

“You should go away!” Comes a muffled voice from the other side. “Don’t come back here. Forget you ever found this place!”

“I want to ask some questions for the paper. I’m writing about strange occurrences in-”

“I don’t want to answer questions! Go away!”

Alicja takes a step back and digs through her backpack. She draws out one of her old published papers, being one of those people who keeps a record of everything she’s ever made. 

“I’m serious. Look, this is me.” She slides the paper under the doorway and waits. 

After a few moments she hears the telltale sound of several locks clicking. The door opens a crack, still held shut by a few chains, and Alicja can see a hint of reddish orange light inside and an eye. 

“Let me see your face,” says the stranger on the other end.

“Oh uh…” Alicja rips her flashlight off her gun, tossing the gun out of her reach so she won’t seem so threatening. She points the light at her face and tries to give a kind smile. 

The door slams in her face, followed by several more clicks as all the chains come undone. When the door opens a hand shoots out, gripping Alicja by her jacket collar and dragging her in. In thirty seconds, the shack’s resident redoes every lock. 

The shack itself is reminiscent of those homes Alicja sees in Hoarders. There’s barely any visible floor among all the newspapers and garbage. It’s surprisingly warm in here, the room is illuminated by a single lamp. Hanging on the wall is a pinboard absolutely covered in newspaper clippings and red string. Alicja takes a big step over some junk to get a better look at the wall, recognizing some of her own writings. 

“You’re alone right? No one followed you?” Alicja’s host asks, pressing her back flat against the door. 

She can’t be that much younger than Alicja herself. Running past her shoulders is long brown-ish hair filled with twigs and rat’s nests and tin foil is wrapped around her forehead. The coat she’s wearing is so thick Alicja sweats just from looking at it, and she wears the thickest bottlecap glasses Alicja has ever seen. There’s a single crack across the right lens. 

“I’ve heard your voice on the radio, it really is you.” Alicja spots a radio on a windowsill, disorganized wires spilling out of it. The first radio she’s seen since she’s got here. 

“I’m sure I’m alone. Can I ask you a few questions?” Alicja pulls out her recorder and it immediately disappears. 

“You’re recording!” She shouts, holding up Alicja’s recorder. The look in this stranger’s eyes reminds Alicja of a frightened predator and she reconsiders the situation she’s put herself in. 

“No! No see, it's off! Look!” She points to the little LED that lights up when it’s on. “I was going to ask if I could record. For my paper?” Alicja holds her hand out, afraid that her precious recorder is about to get destroyed. 

“No recording! No one can know I’m here! No pictures either!” She says, pointing a shaky finger at Alicja’s camera. Alicja brings her arms up to cover it.

“I can remove the batteries if you want. I won’t do anything against your will.”

“I’ll remove the batteries.” She pushes past Alicja and grabs a screwdriver from her desk, crudely disassembling Alicja’s recorder. Hesitantly, she returns it to Alicja who pockets it.

“Alright. Alright,” Alicja says, feeling oddly winded. She takes out her notepad and pen. “Can I get your name?”

“No! Don’t write my name down!” 

“That’s alright, hey! I can do this anonymously if you want, I don’t have to put your name on anything, okay?” Alicja raises her hands in defense. “Can I at least have your name so I can call you something?”

Alicja’s host awkwardly shifts on her heels. “Jessie.” 

“Alright Jessie. Why don’t we sit down? Do you mind if I touch this?” Alicja nudges a pile of papers on a stool, on top of the stack is a plastic keychain of a UFO. Jessie shakes her head and Alicja sets it all down onto the floor. 

“I’ll stand,” Jessie says, eyeing her wearily. While certainly concerned that Jessie looks like she might just fall over, Alicja doesn’t say anything. 

“Alright. I’m going to ask my questions now, okay?” 

“Okay.”

“Are you familiar with the Blackwoods Beast that’s said to reside around here?”

Jessie’s expression twists into what Alicja can only describe as bashful. “Yes.”

“... any elaboration on that?” 

She lets out a shaky breath. “It’s not what the people of this town should be afraid of. I thought it would be enough to keep people away.”

“What is it that you think people should be afraid of?”

The floorboards creak. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Alright. How long have you been living out here alone?” 

“I’ve been here for five years, but I’ve been alone for much longer.” 

“How come?”

Jessie bites her lip and Alicja wonders how much useful information she’s actually going to get out of a paranoid hermit. 

“I’ll tell you my story but you have to promise that none of this will be tracked back to me. I can’t risk that.”

“Oh? If you’re involved in something illegal I can promi-”

“No, no!” Jessie waves her hands in the hair, making a crossing motion. “There’s people who I know would recognize m-” her head suddenly jerks towards the window. Alicja tries to follow Jessie’s gaze, listening in for any sort of noise. 

“Have you ever heard of Zach Callahan?” Jessie whispers conspiratorially, looking everywhere but Alicja. 

“No? Who’s that?”

Jessie lets out the heaviest sigh of relief, resting her hand on her heart. “Alright. Thank God. I used to live with my brother, back in… we were both artists but he did most of the work keeping us… housed I guess. And while I was living with him there’s the name I kept hearing. Everyone I knew grew up with or went to school with someone named Zach Callahan!”

Jessie gestures to her pinboard, as if any of these contextless newspaper clippings mean anything to Alicja. She recognizes what looks like a few large schools, and some abandoned buildings, and the several companies that seem to have no connection. What could Spicy Crust Pizza, Sasha’s Cleaning Products, Sunny’s Cream-filled Pastries, and S&C Plastics possibly have in common? 

“I was onto something! I know I was onto something because of this!” She pulls out a newspaper and pushes it into Alicja’s face. EXPLOSION IN ART GALLERY! “I was in there when this happened! Only the room I was in collapsed! Someone, he, knew I was onto him and tried to take me out!” 

It feels like she should be writing something down right now, but what? She’s met her fair share and conspiracy lunatics, and she’s yet to find the perfect format to work with them.

“And then what happened?”

Jessie swallows thickly. “Well, I knew they were after me, and I knew they’d keep coming after me. I didn’t want to put my brother or my friends in danger, so I disappeared. Until I ended up here.” She makes a vague sort of gesture with her hands. “I don’t know where my brother is now, I hope he’s safe though. I’m telling you all this because I’ve read your work, I know you understand that things aren’t what they seem out here.” 

Unsure how to respond, Alicja nods. Her hand trembles ever so slightly as she makes a note. “You haven’t tried to contact him?”

“Don’t know where he is. Can’t risk it either, don’t want to lead anyone to him, or to me. Especially now that I can’t move around so much.” Sadness seeps into her voice. “Besides, it’s been so long, I’d just be reopening old wounds.”

Alicja offers a gentle kind of smile. As a journalist, she tries very hard not to let too much of her personal feelings bleed into the facts, but she feels comfortable being open with Jessie. 

“You know I used to have a brother. This whole thing I’ve been doing, finding stories like yours, was really his idea. He loved travel and photography, and together we had this dream of running a paper together.” Jessie gives her an odd yet intrigued look. “Then of course, during college he dropped out and I lost contact with him. Next I hear, he’s dead in a car wreck. I don’t even get a body to bury. Sometimes I think I might find him out there, somewhere in these stories I’ve been writing.”

She coughs into her fist, swallowing down her emotion. 

“My point is, that your brother probably wants to hear from you, even if it’s been so long.”

Jessie shakes her head. “It’s not the same, there’s too much risk.”

“You don’t think he can help you?”

“He never did believe in what I told him. There’s nothing he can do for me, and I won’t do that to him. I’m probably putting you in danger too by telling you all of this.”

“It’s alright, none of this has to make it into my report if you don’t want.” Alicja stands up, gently placing her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. 

“I wish that I knew if he’s doing alright.”

“I wish so too. Hey! You say he’s an artist, if you give me a name maybe I can look him up and report back to you!” 

Confusion and hope fill Jessie’s eyes. “How would you contact me?” 

“I’ll write a column on notable artists, get it published. You’ll find it in the papers.” 

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course!” A pause. “Can I ask you one more thing? Before I leave you here.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve mentioned something else in these woods. Something you believe the people should be afraid of and prevents you from leaving. Would you mind explaining what you think that is?” 

Jessie’s expression drops. She pulls off her cartoonish glasses to wipe them on her shirt. “It would be easier if I showed you.” She bends down, reaches under her cot, and pulls out what Alicja distinctly recognizes as a flamethrower. “You might want your flashlight, and your shotgun.”

A step behind her, Alicja follows Jessie around the shack. Sticks and brush crunch underfoot. Alicja keeps the light as steady as she can. 

About thirty, maybe forty feet away from the shack, Jessie holds out her arm to stop Alicja. She points, and there, bright red against the blacks and browns and greens, crawling across the ground and plant life like veins, are thorny roots. 

“I found this infection when I first came here, it wasn’t a fraction of this size then. It’s been growling towards the town.” Jessie pulls the trigger and flames burst out. Alicja has to cover her ears as a scream echoes through the woods. “I keep trying to push it back, but it’s faster than me. Sometimes I see groups of animals traveling in packs, all of them moving unnaturally and in unison, their eyes red.”

Alicja uncovers her face. “Why don’t you tell people about this? Warn them if you’re so worried about this.”

Jessie regards Alicja with a cold look. “Tell me, do you truly believe every word I’ve told you tonight?”

“I believe that some of what you’ve told me is true.” Alicja wants to make some sort of defense for herself, about how she’s a journalist so obviously has to take every statement with a grain of salt, like she has to explain herself like that to someone who’s still a total stranger. 

“It wouldn’t do the people of this town any good. They won’t care until it’s impossible to ignore. All I can hope to do is keep it back before it has to come to that.” Her feet stay planted on the ground and Jessie starts up the fire again. She lifts up her camera, getting the perfect shot of Jessie illuminated only by the flames. 

“Thank you for your statement, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Here,” Jessie says, placing Alicja’s batteries into her hands, “My brother’s name is Joseph Tamlin, if you do actually want to look him up for me.” 

“I will!”

The barest hint of sunlight is peeking over the horizon by the time Alicja makes it back to her car. She drops all her stuff in the passenger’s seat and reassembles her recorder.

She flips through her limited notes, unsure what to do with them. What is she supposed to write for her report? That the Blackwoods Beast is just a lonely woman? Is she supposed to lie and say that she found nothing in her investigation? Should she tell someone about the infection in the woods?

Joseph Tamlin. Scribbled hastily at the bottom of the page. Perhaps Jessie has offered her a better story instead.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 12

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink

Synopsis:  When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Last warning for the 🍋 under the cut. Minors DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: wetness check, couple of breast notes, a clit trip, a FULL ON pussy examination, and many fold references (with some distinct labia mentions)

Bumping shoulders with your friends, a pile of people milled in a lobby outside the black box. Cradling a bouquet, you protected it the best you could against the writhing mass. Most of the regular attendees had already left and what was left were fans and support. You landed with the latter and there was a tizzy near the front of the crowd. The actors and techs walked out causing people to flock to them. You hung back with your group as you allowed others to first get their chance at congratulations. It didn’t take long until your friend appeared through a clear path. Bombarding him with the flowers and joy about his performance on opening night, you were quickly invited to an after party.

It came with shouts, slung arms, and the batter of bars. Locations flittered by as the high of stage shortened attention spans. Ushered in to cabs too full and driven around by drivers that surely hated their payload, you sobered up to late night tacos while comingling with the strongest that had toughed out where the weak had thrown in the towel. Hydration was attended to and after hanging around for long enough that the liquid passed, you exited the most recent dive. An illuminated street greeted you and your actor friend laughed with his arm wrapped around another of your compatriots. With things no longer spinning, you stared up and down the road curiously.

“Already on the prowl? Geez, who knew you’d be last one standing?!” Your actor friend jeered.

“It’s not that, though…” You did your best front double biceps pose before laughing right out of it. “I think I know this area.”

“Well dur!” Your other friend freed himself from the actor’s grasp and flopped onto a stair step. “We all want to valet with daddy’s money to the best restaurants.”

“There’s nice places all over the place, man.” Your actor friend sighed.

With your phone out, you brought up maps and checked your location. Eyes illuminated by a brightened screen, you spun around to your companions. “I do know this area! Stay with me while I send a message real quick?”

“Booty call?” The other friend clasped his hands and held them to his cheek.

“Hopefully.” You hummed with your thumbs flying over your screen.

You: This is crazy, but I’m in the area. Are you busy?

“Wait, what?” Your actor friend stumbled over to see.

You easily out maneuvered him.

“You’re supposed to bring enough to share with the class!” Your other friend slumped.

Your phone pinged and you danced a couple of steps away to garner some freedom.

Donnie Darko: Weren’t you seeing a play on the other side of town?

You: Long story short: after party took us places!

Donnie Darko: Prior notice would be preferred.

You: That’s cool, I was going to head home then.

Donnie Darko: 15 minutes.

You: 😏

Biting back a smile you felt the presence of your actor friend over your shoulder. Pretending to come away from your phone excited, you elbowed him harshly. He keeled over with a wheeze to hold his throbbing stomach and you navigated around him. “One last request before I send your sorry asses on your ways?”

Your friend on the step gave a mock salute. “Anything for the team. If one us gets laid, then we all do.”

“Not… true…” You actor friend coughed.

-

The three of you made it most of the way to your destination when a lone taxi on an otherwise desolate street beckoned your friends. With your target a few visible blocks away, you let them depart with a group hug. They drove off and you kept your guard up as you made the rest of the trip alone. The street was otherwise calm and there was a woman hanging out a window to your right. She drank in the night air with a sleepy expression and her calm translated to you. You made it to Donnie’s building easily and approached a panel of buzzers. Checking your phone, you found the trip wasted more than enough time so you scanned the console.

It felt obvious when after a few scans you didn’t find his name. Trying to recall the little you remembered from the only trip you’d taken inside, you hovered a finger over the various floors. At a loss, you reached for your phone when a buzz and a click sounded. You looked over to find the door ajar. Taking it to keep it from closing, you glanced back at the panel. A blocky purple check mark was marked on a bit of plastic that didn’t even look like a screen. You stared at it for a moment before shrugging the thing off.

It was absolutely within Donnie’s capabilities.

Finally palming your phone you found a text with the floor and door number waiting for you. Pocketing it, you opted for the elevator and rode the thing while rolling on the balls of your feet. An easy trip to the door, you were almost surprised when it didn’t open upon contact. He’d otherwise laid out a red carpet, but you figured you could meet him the rest of the way by giving a quick rap to the surface with your knuckles.

It opened soon enough and Donnie stood with languid curiosity.

“Hey.” You tipped yourself in a manner you hoped was alluring.

“Greetings.” He shifted, but didn’t grant you entrance.

“Guess what?”

“No ridiculous jokes, I can smell the alcohol on you.”

You came out of your pose with a scrunched up nose. “That was earlier. It’s been a few hours and I’m fully fed and hydrated.”

He leaned down to evaluate you and you swore his glasses flared in color for a moment. Seemingly satisfied, he came away and straightened up enough to lean into his door jamb. “What then?”

You stepped back and threw out your arms like a gymnast. He folded his and you gave him a mischievous grin before focusing on yourself. Bringing your hands back in, you did your best impression of a plie. It meant turning out your hips and bending at your knees. You dropped down low before coming back up with an ever widening smile. “I would say that’s all healed, wouldn’t you?”

For a moment, he didn’t seem like he understood. Then his arms unfurled. It felt like a dinner bell rang and you were yanked inside. His lips met yours in a fervor and he used your body to slam the door shut. Trapped between him and the wood, the need that had built up during your recovery time outpoured. From the heat of the tongue tango you knew there was no way you were going to make it to the bed this time. From the way your clothes were already falling by the wayside, you weren’t even sure you were going to make it to the couch. You split his hands away from your zipper to make a grab at the edge of his sweater.

“Do you always hang around your apartment fully clothed?”

He allowed you to grab the fabric before pressing his elbows above your head to cage you in. “Do you lounge around yours naked?”

You tugged his sweater up to cover his cocksure face and he helped around the point where his height exceeded your reach. He tossed the top aside and nipped at you as he got a renewed hold of your hips. He traced your pant line with a slotted finger and your hips craned into the touch. Biting down a moan, you leaned into him as he got the button. You caught sight of his glasses and reached up to take them off. You both succeeded in your removals at nearly the same time before coming together in a heated celebration.

Both your pants and underwear dropped in unison and instead of allowing you to free yourself, Donnie lifted you clean out of them. The height had you balancing your hands on his shoulders and he coaxed you into bringing your thighs up around his waist. Pinning your body to the door as leverage, you drank in the way your breasts squished against his plastron. It was a pleasant stiffness that stroked your hardening nipples as you were gently adjusted in a rocking motion. The distraction drifted away as you heard the clink of a belt.

Awareness came fast as you noticed Donnie’s forehead was to your shoulder and he was juggling your weight while undoing his pants. Deciding to make his task harder, you did a gentle drag of your teeth along from his mask line down to the top of his neck wrap. He instinctively bucked and the door rattled around you.

“Woah there.” You whispered to approximately where you figured his ear was. That was something you hoped you remembered to ask about later.

He grunted, stuck on something, while you explored his clavicle with little kisses. The jostling slowly stopped and you tested a lick of his skin. You weren’t exactly sure what’d you’d find, but there was nothing spectacular on your tongue. The texture was more interesting under the drag of your lips. It threaded somewhere between smoothed out scales and human flesh. It was like the mutation found a perfect median between the two. Exchanging your mouth for your cheek, you affectionately drank in the feel with a scrub.

A slick pop got your attention and you pulled your head back in time with Donnie. He peppered your face with distracting sloppy kisses and you squirmed under the assault. One of his hands departed the thick of your hip and massaged down to your ass. It lolled your jaw and you threw your head back. It banged against the door, but your attention was diverted as a finger neared your core. It skimmed the outside and you sensed he was checking how wet you were. The heated exchange had gotten you worked up to a point, but it wasn’t anywhere near the lengths that had been built up last time.

Fumbling a moan, he lightly tested your folds before stroking with purpose. Your toes curled as he worked up enough moisture to easily roll over your clit. It was just a brush, but you called out the syllable version of his name on contact. The sound brought his head up curiously and you felt a prick of embarrassment come through your already heated face. He rubbed his snout into your cheek before his fingers moved again. With targeted curls and a few minutes, he had his name coming off your lips fully in a rapid plea.

He chuffed as if that wasn’t by his design before his hand disappeared. You whined at the loss when, in a single bob of your body, you felt the heat of him line up with you. He cocked a brow at you as if challenging you to ask for him again. You did so dripping with sweetness and he kissed the pious part of you away. Slowly, he angled you to sink down on him and you groaned as he filled you. That thick tapering had you clinging to him and your legs did their best to lock him in place. He pressed you tighter to the door and, in response, the rocking meant the thing creaked behind you. You wondered about the hinges which you quickly abandoned at the thought of him fixing it.

You wanted to ask for something, but the babble off your lips at each stroke was hardly legible. The heat percolated and despite the crowding, an ache formed. Writhing in time, you quickly found that it wasn’t a psychical thing. He was dragging all the right spots and pleasure was undoubtedly dampening your ability to locate it. It brought a whimper off your lips which only spurned Donnie’s ministrations. The drag of his cock caused you to clench and fed a little bit of that need.

It wasn’t enough.

What was it?

With him supporting your weight, your hands ghosted his arms. Through the wraps your could feel each flex between thrusts. Skirting up, you skimmed where the fabric met his shoulder. The skin there had the same texture as elsewhere and you drunkenly traced a shaky outline of those purple markings. He popped you up to drop you down on him and you squealed at the sensation. It might have been a sign to leave it, so you moved on to trace his collar bone. The touch sent tingles through your finger tips and you chased that sensation. Crawling digits wrapped your arms his neck until they came around to just barely reach the muscles on either side. It pulled him down to you and his forehead came to yours along with an inquisitive gaze.

The desire he found there was easily confused and you still couldn’t find the words. Grasping him helped, but didn’t quell the throb. You needed to be something more. The abstract addition didn’t add up. It left you pawing desperately at the skin you had access to. Maddened, sparks went off deep inside you with each stroke, but the rest of you felt vulnerably numb. It caused you to dig your nails into the spot just under his skull. He didn’t react to the sting and instead shifted your weight to continue fucking you while freeing up one of his arms. It came up and a large hand wrapped around one of your forearms. He didn’t pull you away and instead anchored the limb in place. Goosebumps cropped up under hand and it triggered a deep moan.

A single word came to mind: skinship.

You clawed again and this time he tightened his grip. You relinquished your throttle and in doing so his appendage graced your arm along its trek. The light touch etched into your skin and you pushed out into his hand to get just a little more. He finally caught on that something else was happening and slowed his hips. You waited for the swell of your tongue to subside and in the mean time pet his jaw. He stroked your arm to calm you down and his cock pulsed inside you. It caused your head to loll forward onto his shoulder. You panted there and the suck of oxygen made a dash for the clarity of communication.

It felt like agony to pull your sweaty forehead from his collar. You powered through with a grimace. “I need… you to touch me…”

He was breathy and confused. “I am?”

“More.” You fanned your fingers out to get as much real estate on his face as possible. “I need more.”

The door protested all the more as the air was nearly squeezed out of you at the pressure he exerted. It was a necessary weight to keep you upright and free both his limbs. A hitch in his features, he carefully tested palming your shoulders before checking in to see if that was the right move. You spasmed under his touch and he increased the pressure behind it. You caught how his pupils shifted in dilation between lust and curiosity. He then dragged his grip downward, tracing muscle groups and skirting along with his nails. From where you had a grip on his head, your fingers flexed into his cheeks and pulled. You could feel his teeth underneath and he shook free one of your hands to bring your cheeks together. In a desperate nod, you rubbed there with enough force to cause the skin on your face to go taunt.

He pressed back against the need, not matching it at first, but instead exploring. He made his touch known in a methodical work up that caused you to buck against him. Knocking your wrist, he wrangled your other hand free from him to cradle it. He then brought your palm to his lips and pressed several kisses there all while his eyes never left your face. You cried an approximation of his name. From where he was buried to the hilt, he rolled his hips. It created a favorable friction as he mouthed a line down your arm.

Both your lids fluttered as a gentle gyration meant that the skin survey now led the intimacy. You were put back to your stupefied state as his grasps increased. It was getting close to scratching that incessant itch. You pressed your lips wherever they would land and it felt like your faces were magnetized to one another. Each brush smothered the embers and the smoke it created asphyxiated that distress you couldn’t name. You wanted to bath in his affections and fully submerge yourself.

“You’d… been afraid… to… for so long…” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears.

He had lifted you up high enough that he was nipping along your sternum and his fingers rolled along your rib cage. “Long? It hasn’t been two weeks.”

You dropped your hips enough to stroke the length of him that was still inside you. You could only mumble your confirmation.

His tongue did a languid stripe across the swell of your breast before he bit down on the nipple.

You screeched and unconsciously tugged his mask.

He nosed you with an irritated edge and you released the fabric with sheepish fingers.

“Why are you so thoroughly starved?” His grip shifted so he could lower you further on his cock and put you at eye level. “It’s not like I haven’t touched you.”

The stretch rolled your eyes back until the stillness allowed you to surface. “It wasn’t the… same.” 

He gave an animalistic snort that you read as him calling you hopeless before he nuzzled the underside of your chin. You contracted around him and coaxed him to move with your hips. He resumed his shallow thrusts before bringing his arms up. Elbows as anchor points, he pressed his forearms flat on either side of you before slowly pulling them together. It created a vice like pressure that squeezed you and he caught your lips. The enveloping sensation swallowed up your mind and from where your arms were pinned between your chests, you could only dig your fingers into that ridge along the top of his plastron. His tongue shoved into your mouth and your felt faulty of bursting from literally all angles.

He applied more pressure and the coil in your abdomen wound. The bite of his scutes suffocated your front, his arms crushed your torso, his tongue filled your mouth, and it felt like your innards were stuffed by his dick. It left little of you to the open other than your legs and you had long lost contact with them. His strokes sped up and you grasp at collar bone for additional support. Digits splayed, his thumbs landed around your throat. He encouraged the moans coming from there to increase in frequency. His fingers curled over and dug out space between the you and the door to bite into your shoulder blade. Like a final piece, it extinguished the need and you came suddenly.

A loud noise escaped you and, though stunted, you could sense Donnie watching you. As you came down, you blearily caught that his eyes were wide with a sort of awe. You almost wanted to apologize until he buried his face into your collar. He scrubbed his snout harshly against your skin before his hand snapped up your thighs. He then pounded into you in rapid succession. You screamed out due to oversensitivity. Holding on desperately, he came to an abrupt halt and buried himself as deep as he could go. His face reappeared only to watch you as you felt the first pulse of his cock. Instead of coaxing out each spray, he kept himself rooted as the heat of his cum spread in your belly. It was an odd inside out version of your early enveloping and you felt your inner walls desperately try to drink him in.

Gasping, he nudged you with his nose until you were able to give him an approximation of a kiss. He seemed satisfied with the small interaction and rode out the rest of his orgasm while staring at you.

By the time he was done, his gaze was almost too much.

“Let me examine you.”

You blinked at him, a form of postcoital only giving you bare understanding of his words. “Examine?”

He nodded and peeled you off the door.

You made a disgusted face at the feeling and drew as close to him as possible to get away from it. “Examine how?”

“Your sex. I’ll set you on the table.”

You wondered which one he meant as he walked around the couch. “You haven’t seen a pussy before?”

His gaze wasn’t on you, but you felt him roll his eyes. “You weren’t fucked senseless; don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t had a chance to study yours.”

You thought for a moment as he got to his knees. He was still plugging you up and took great care to not break the connect as he set you on a coffee table. Once he had you adjusted, he watched with a neutral expression to await your answer. He was incorrigible; you gave a defeated chuckle. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

“Agreed.” He then ran a hand up your spine to coax you to lay back.

The sensation sent little shockwaves out and he stopped as if he were taking mental notes. Once he had you down, he pulled out in a quick snap. Before any of his cum could dribble out, he hoisted your hips up. You braced yourself on your elbows as he hooked your knees over his shoulders. It brought your core right into his face and he tested letting you go to see if you had enough stability.

“Comfortable enough?”

You shifted slightly to make sure the weight was evenly distributed on your upper back. “I couldn’t hold this forever, but I’m alright for now.”

He nodded approvingly before one of his hands came up between you. You felt his thumb pull back your folds and you watched the way his eye tracked the cum you could feel leak out at the move. Placing a finger on the other side, he then gently pressed your labia together. The squish was audible and more of his seed leaked as he massaged outward. It was almost like he was testing the tensile strength there and your hips stirred despite the clinical nature of the contact.

Watching his face, his mouth was set, but his eyes held a sort of researcher’s excitement. If the way his pupils expanded and contracted in time were any indication, he was entranced. His eyes acted like a lens recording data. His probing ventured inward and you imagined he was probably adept enough to be take mental measurements. His thumb rolled up and avoided your clit to instead press into the sensitive bundle of nerves above the hood. You bucked and he flicked a disapproving gaze at you.

You let your head fall back to the table and stared at the ceiling. Still orderly, this was very different than a well woman exam. He did a sweep that picked up his cum before his hands left you. You glimpsed him while raising up and saw him testing the consistency of it between his fingers. You cocked smile at that until his hands returned and you felt the sensation of him trying to put it back. It had grown cold away from your body and you squirmed. “Geez!”

“Hm?” His eyes were still trained on your sex.

“You have a thing about filling me up is all.”

With one large hand still holding you up by your ass, he used the other to aid in shrugging your knees off his shoulders. One of your feet found the ground, but the other hung on the arm cupping your butt. “Of course.”

It was a little more comfortable to prop yourself up again. “You say that like it should be obvious.”

“Shouldn’t it?” He surged forward, keeping your hips up until he was able to reach your lips. He kissed away further questions with a fervor you couldn’t help but give into. You pulled him down and his plastron poured over your torso. He chased you into the table and it distracted him enough from the hold that he let your ass go. The spill was immediate. You shuddered as the slick ran down your thigh and he broke away from your lips long enough to click his tongue. His fingers found drip quickly and he did his best to shove back in. To avoid another complaint, he then turned the move into a slow, methodical pump.

It was with great reluctance that you gently pushed against his scutes.

He captured a few more kisses before he pulled away. “Yes?”

“It’s just-”

A finger inside you curled into your g-spot.

It caused a whine and a slight quake to your legs. “Don!”

“Mhm?” He curled that finger again and this time you pushed at his arm. “You want me to stop?”

“No.” You grumbled but applied as much pressure as your weak limbs could muster.

He gave a final drag of his finger before pulling out of you.

“It’s mine turn… is all.” 

He narrowed his gaze until realization came to him. It brought a half cocked smile and airy aura. “Ah, we did agree after all.”

You nodded and watched as he stood. Your head tilted as he gave a little stretch and you found no dick dangling between his legs. He’d obviously fucked you with something so you pushed up into a sitting position. He languidly moved over to the couch before taking a seat with his legs spread wide. You dropped off the coffee table and crawled the foot up to him. He appraised you contentedly as you settled yourself on your knees in front of him. Searching his crotch you again found nothing and confusion screwed up your features. You turned the look on him and his grin grew in time. “What’s the deal?”

“No deal here.”

“That’s got to be your first straight up lie. You’re so smug I’m suffocating on it.”  

He laughed and adjusted himself. When he came away there was a sort of nub that hadn’t been there before. You leaned in. “You have a tail!”

“I do.”

“Can I…?” You had to bite your lip to temper your excitement.

He acted put off, but nodded in a way that encouraged you with is chin.

You reached forward curiously and ran your fingers over it. It wasn’t terribly long and it thinned out to a pointed tip. You traced it curiously back to where it met the skin between his legs and heard him inhale sharply. You eyed him in a quick flick, you moved on instinct to mimick the gently pinching he had done to you earlier. It revealed a slit there that was much larger then you anticipated considering you hadn’t been able to see it plainly. You traced the outline of it and heard an approving sound come from above you. Pressing forward, you used both hands to open him up and saw a strings of wetness spread across the chasm. “Woah…”

He chuffed.

“Your dick is… in there?” Letting the tension relax, you traced around his opening.

He nodded and you took note that he’d stopped speaking.

Still following his lead, you pulled back to stretch his slick between your thumb and index finger. It had a tackier consistency then your own lubrication. He made a little noise as you rubbed the fluid and you brought your gaze up to find him staring at you with darkened eyes.

“Hmm?” You tilted your head innocently and hid your hand.

He frowned and the shape seemed to make it more difficult for him to open his mouth.

Taking pity on him, you wiped your hand on your leg before slowly walking up your fingers over the couch to him. You watched him take in a breath and hold it as you continued the move over his tail before probing at his slit. A gruff noise came from him as you slipped a digit in. It was mostly smooth with the faintest ridges plumping the sensitive skin there. You saw one of his hands fist at his knees and you pressed your digit in as far as you could reach. It barely skirted something inside and he made a feral noise before lurching forward.

Surprised, you pulled out and he hunched over himself with a harsh exhale. He then recomposed as best he could and sat upright.

“You good?” You watched him warily.

His nod was tight and seemed painful. “If you want to watch me drop, don’t do that again.”

“Drop?” You narrowed in on his slit again.

His thighs tensed up and you instinctively put a hand to each. With your eyes trained on his center, you soothingly rubbed your thumbs into the muscles of his inner leg. His torso shifted and the head of something peeked out of his entrance. You leaned back a little as in one swift move, his cock slipped out and bobbed at lazily attention.

“Drop.” The word popped out of your stunned mouth.

“Yes.” The sound heaved off his lips.

You reached out and pressed a single extended finger to his spade shaped head. It struck you that this was that odd flatness you had felt. Testing it’s bounce, you felt the way it gave and then sprung back to maintain its shape. Skirting around its edges, you traced how the darkened purple hue at his tip then gave way to a flesh tone towards the base. Your touch stuttered as he kept expanding the further down you went. It was another thing you had been vaguely aware of, but seeing it right in front of you made it particularly daunting. It bulbed out at its base where the slightest puff of pink fringe marked the end of his member. When you brushed it, the way Donnie’s muscles contracted spoke of its sensitivity. You imagined that was probably due to its musculature as its position presumably aided in however the drop mechanic worked. Not as interested in confirming that, you mostly admired the contrast of where his pinkened cock met his jade colored skin.

“You’re beautiful.” You mumbled, ghosting a graze back up to his head.

“You have strange definitions.” He swallowed hard.

You shot him a dry look as the time that particular trek took dawned on you. The first go around you’d focused on the parts and now the whole was becoming increasingly apparently. Not as adept at exact measurements, he was at least longer than your face. “I… took this.”

“You see my surprise.”

“Like all of this.” You wrapped a hand around a part that allowed your digits to meet. “All of this was inside of me!”

He laughed and the spasms caused his cock to flex under your grip.

You blinked in awe. “The glans shape is wild.”   

“It’s meant to spread and lock in place past the vaginal opening.”

You snapped your gaze up to him in a sort of horror.

He watched with fond amusement.

Feeling the flutter of your heartbeat, you brought your eye line down as you slid your hand past where your fingers could no longer meet. You switched to sort of palming the bulge at his base.  

“That’s a version of a bulbus glandis. It swells when I come and creates another sort of lock.”  

Your lips parted and you had to look away. When you brought your bewildered gaze back, you gave brittle laugh. “It’s like you were made to breed.”

He stopped moving and you blinked rapidly to make sure your eyes were working. When you got a renewed shot of him, you saw his pupils blown wide. A question pursed your lips, but his parted first.

“Stand.”

“Oh…” You flickered your to his member. “I was sort of hoping I could…” You trailed off and licked your lips before testing a pump of your hand around his dick.

His hand snatched your wrist and wrenched you free before you made it half a stroke. “Up.”

His grip stung and when he released you, you reflexively rubbed your hand.

His gaze was turning lethal. “Now.”

The deep command to it had you scrambling to your feet. 

He leaned back with held his head high. “Get up here.”

You watched as if on cue his dick bobbed and you wondered how exactly you were supposed to manage that. Climbing the couch up to straddle him on your knees didn’t seem like it would give you enough height. Alternatively, stepping straight onto the couch seemed precarious. Distracted by choice, you’d almost forgotten you left a demanding Donnie waiting.

“I won’t ask again.”

The tone tensed you in a way that got you raised on the tips of your toes.  Though you had a little bite in you since he hadn’t actually asked at all, the buzz this version of Donnie held roused something in you. Unsure of where to grip, you started your move by placing your left knee outside his right thigh. As soon as it had a solid foothold on the couch, he came to your aid raising the other one. Even through his hardened persona, you could feel a tenderness as he maneuvered your right leg high enough to clear his cock. Fully upright on your knees, he then held both of your hips to keep you just above his awaiting member.

There was a pause as he drank the image in and it gave you enough wherewithal finally chance that reciprocation you’d been hoping to exercise. With his extra stability, it left your hands free. It created an awkward bend at your waist, but you reached down between your legs to grasp him. He sucked in breath so harshly his teeth nearly whistled on the oxygen. With some maneuvering, you got him near your heat.

“S-slow.” You weren’t sure why you stuttered, but it played right into the scenario. Donnie allowed you to drop about an inch and it was enough for you to stroke his head through your folds. He began to suck in air again, but this time immediately blew it out to maintain composure. Taking point gave you a chance to actually test the way his head felt against you. It’s flat nature caught you in an interesting way, but his grip on your hips kept you from grinding on it. You pushed back until he was at your entrance and shifted your weight to indicate you wanted to be lowered a little more. Donnie obliged and you moved agonizingly slow to appreciate the way his branches bent back to accommodate you.

Keeping from a full breech, the slick worked up until he popped in suddenly. The spread he described happened and you had to reach out to grab his shoulder at the sensation. Panting, you shared a staggered look with him.

He had a thin handle on his features. “Try to lift off.”

You chewed your lip at the thought before moving to raise your hips. There was a certain level of resistance, but you could feel the bend of his head when you pulled hard enough. “It… would?”

“Now, but soon…?” He applied a downward pressure on your hips to keep from actually pulling him out.

You sank down and arched your back to take him with a high-pitched sigh. “D-does that…?”

He stopped his descent to allow you a chance to speak.

Garnering back enough oxygen, you steadied yourself. “If we had to… stop suddenly for… some reason?”

For a moment, you thought his quiet indicated he was thinking it over. However, when you searched his face, he had a beguiled quality to him. He then lifted you a little and allowed you to sink down all the more. “I wouldn’t allow for interruptions.”

Knowing that couldn’t be possible, you had further questions on your lips that morphed into a moan as he dragged you down deeper to enforce his point. You managed a basal glare that he fucked away until you hit that familiar fullness point where you’d taken all of him. He let you settle there as if he knew you’d be picturing the whole of him within you. He was right as you considered specifically the girth of his base where the bulb slotted you in what absolutely felt like a seal. Obviously in practice that hadn’t been the case, but the imagery had you testing a roll of your hips to see how it affected the positioning.

Once you came away satisfied, the stillness caught you. It seemed strange that Donnie had given you such freedom to explore when he’d demanded you hop on his dick. Looking up, you found him settled and watching you with a serene expression. He met your attention with a placid smile and his thumbs drew little spirals on your hip bones. It shifted your whole perspective of what was happening. Instead of an intense lust, it seemed more like he’d needed to get inside you as soon as possible to feel connected. The thought ran through you like a current and you clenched down on him with a flutter of your lashes.

Very much in control of himself, in contrast, he switched his grip as if palming the skeleton of your pelvis. His thumbs stayed in front, while his fingers curled around the small of your back. He then coaxed you to rotate your hips. There was nothing behind you except for the edge of the sofa and the coffee table just beyond that. A tip in that direction meant the dangers of another back bend and you weren’t about to risk another duration of recovery time. You resisted him and, in turn, one of his hands left your hip.

“I’ve got you.” Reaching forward, he assured you through the use of his free hand tucking behind one of your shoulder blades.

The poise in his face was agonizing. You licked your lips nervously before giving into the tilt. He stabilized your weight between the two connection points and tested rolling his hips. It caused the slope of his cock to drag over your g-spot. In the next few strokes the intensity was almost too much and the sounds leaking from you trended more towards pained whimpers. Vigilant, Donnie chose to slow down instead of stopping and the feeling the scrape became a gentle persuasion. It created an oddly secure feeling that allowed you to test the waters of matching his movements.

With only a few slight hiccups, you were soon meeting the rolls of his hips with ones of our own. The tandem nature had caused you to break away from his hold of your upper body so you could instead clamp down on his forearm for a different kind of support. With each thrust the two of you crashed together in a centerfold point. Once you found the rhythm, you had enough mental fortitude left over to look at him. Across from you his eyes were trained down and, for a moment, you thought he was absorbed in his own ministrations.

Instead, you felt his thumb move which caused you to hone in on it. From the grip he’d had on your hip, you hadn’t registered that he’d crept the digit further around the front of your body. With his reach, it placed the pad of which over the center of your pelvis. Trying to focus in spite of the sway, you slowly noticed it was also moving in time. In a startling revelation that caused a hiccup in your hips, it clicked that he was feeling himself through you.

He immediately caught your comprehension and his fingers flexed to encourage you to keep moving. Now with your attention, he traced over the area before his thumb retreated. Knowing what he wanted, you tried to communicate that you needed to jump back into the tempo, but you could only manage a mangled sound. It at least seemed to translate for him and after a strokes, you found the rhythm along with a hand laying uselessly nearby. Timing to jump in you extended two fingers and placed them approximately where he’d mapped out. His thumb soon covered them and pressed down. You could indeed feel the pulse of his cock and shot up a surprised gaze at him.

He didn’t take it in with a look and instead gave a slight smile as he bucked up into your fingertips. You felt the surge inside and out. Electricity zapped you and, now aware of both your limbs, you shot the other out to grab him. Using it as an anchor point to speed up, he met you with deft strikes. The fervor built up and along with it that near painful sting of the constant assault on one of your most sensitive bundle of nerves. You dug your nails into his arm as it brought a rapid sort of high that you sensed would be a stuttering orgasm.

His gaze was so hyperfocused, his eyes were narrowed down to slits, but you found them trained between the two of you. More focused on his thrusts, you had to clumsily try to piece together what had his attention now. From the angle he’d coaxed you into along with the floating bits of data around the evening, your best guess was he was memorizing exactly how you took his cock. It was his odd mixture of clinical affection that made the last few snaps of your hips send you over the edge.

As soon as the first spasm occurred, he tugged you flush to him in a sudden rush. He then pistoned into your orgasm at a pace you couldn’t track even if you were operating on full lucidity. Letting you go, he put you right back into your original leaned position and his gaze snapped down to where it had been. You followed it as timed clenches rocked your body and widened your eyes as you thought you could see his base swell. In a blink it was buried in you and the first spurt of his cum chased the sensation.

The heat pooled as he filled you and his thumb came across as he seemed to test if he could feel that too. You tossed your head back with a breathy laugh as you ran out your orgasm and then his. Your grip loosened as your limbs liquefied and you could feel him pulling you. You slumped against his body and, with some slight adjustments, you were draped over his front in a snug fit. He secured you in place with his arms slung low around your waist and you sighed against his neck. You felt his own satisfied hum there and you started to drift off at the serenity of it all. You only roused at another gentle rearrangement.

“You okay?”

He gave a nod against the top of your head. Your lids grew heavy until your nose was pressed by him taking a deep inhale. “This is a pleasant pressure.”

Drowsy, it took you what felt like several minutes to put together that he was referring to the aftercare he hadn’t gotten previously. “Just call me your personal weighted blanket.”

“Stay still like one and I’ll call upon your assistance again in the future.”

The laugh caused your shoulders to bob and he gave you a lazy squeeze as a form of punishment for immediately breaking his request. You willed yourself to stop and gave his throat a small apologetic kiss.

“And you?” He lightly brushed your back which pressed you closer to him in an attempt get away from the tickling sensation.

“Just thinking about how intense your breeding kink is.”

From up top, the first thing you felt was how his shoulders stiffened. Next, his legs seemed to suffer a similar fate before finally his rapidly softened cocked gave a little twitch inside you at the thought.

“Exactly.”

You read embarrassment in the way a little more of the weight of his head leaned against yours.

You gave a sleepy smile.

“I can accommodate if that is not reciprocated.”

On the losing side of sleep, you barely managed a few centimeters in shaking your head. “I like it.”

“There’s no real concern-”

“It’s new; never had someone so desperate to knock me up.”

His grip around your waist gave a little downward tug and you felt the threat of a third time encroaching on your slumber.

“No…” You whined. “No more. Sleep now.”

“I believe there is an expression.”

“’Don’t threaten me with a good time’? I know, but too tired… no filter.”

“You can sleep once you’ve cleaned up.” He was already preparing to move.

 You gave the first pitch of a pathetic whine before you cut it short. “Wait, are you… saying I can sleep over?”

“You have once already.” His arms retracted and you reluctantly pulled away from him.

“That was sort of without permission.”

He seemed to think that over. “Can you stand?”

You made a show that you were about to grab his shoulders before actually doing so. He supported your elbows and you pushed up with your knees. Your hips were locked and creaked painfully as you forced them into motion. He hovered close until you gave up on a straight lift off and instead swerved to fall over on one side. You forgot to account for the rush of cum and immediately pivoted to save the couch from the current. He seemed amused by your actions and quickly departed. You thought long and hard about standing when he returned with tissues. You both blotted what you could before you finally got to your feet.

Shaky, but stable, you gave him a wave that you were alright before padding to the bathroom. Clicking the light and closing the door behind you, you dropped onto the toilet. After taking care of yourself, you went to wash your hands and noticed something curious on the countertop. Drying off with a towel, you picked up a second tube of toothpaste that just so happened to be your preferred brand. “Donnie...”

This man was truly something else.

Listening, you didn’t hear a response and went to open the door. “Donnie, what’s this?!”

NEXT

[ikeromantic]

You already know I can't resist making just one celebration request so Could I pretty please with a cherry on top get Sasuke, Beauty 🥰? Thank you in advance, and congratulations on 1k followers (lol I said subscribers on my other ask, like your blog is a literary otome magazine 😆) Cheers to another 1k followers!

Hehehe you know I didn't even catch that. An otome literary fanzine would be pretty cool though. There probably already is one and I just don't know about it xD Well, anyway, here's some adorable Sasuke being too sweet for approx. 800 words.

Sasuke pushed aside another branch and waved away the cloud of gnats that flew into the gap. This trip was turning into quite the hike unexpectedly. But the road he intended to take was washed out and now he and Mai were forging their own path through the valley. On a map, it looked like a shortcut but in reality, it was kilometers of thick undergrowth that took a lot of time to navigate.

“Are we there yet,” Mai called from behind him. She was breathing hard but still smiling, her cheeks red with effort and the heat of a summer afternoon.

“It depends on what you mean by there,” the ninja countered. 

She laughed and stopped for a moment, leaning against a tree. “That wasn’t philosophical.”

Sasuke’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Oh? Well if we’re being literal . . . I guestimate another hour of this before we’re around the blockage and back on the road. Maybe two.”

“Ugh. Well, it’s not like we can call an Uber. I just hope there’s a bath and a really soft bed at the other end of this.”

“The odds of both are high.” Sasuke let her pass under the branch he held and then let it go. He hoped he was right about the town they were headed to. It was technically a work trip, so amenities were not a guarantee. If the facilities were lacking, he would make it up to her, he thought. 

Spoiling Mai was one of his favorite hobbies. Right up there with hanging out with his BFF and fanboy-ing the warlords. He knew all of her favorite foods, the bands she liked (but couldn’t listen to anymore), tv shows (same), colors, fabrics and . . . other things.

“Hey. Why are you smiling like that?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, catching him in the middle of a naughty grin. 

“No reason.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and sped up to walk in front again. The smile stayed put as he navigated past thorn bushes and found paths around clusters of brush. 

They found the road again just as the sun began to set. It looked like they would arrive in town just after dark. Hopefully early enough to get a good meal and that bath he knew Mai would want. 

As they stepped out onto the smooth, packed dirt, she went a little ahead of him. Mai stretched up on her toes, reaching toward the blushing sky. Her hair hung in a braid, with the loose bits sweat-stuck to her forehead and the nape of her neck. A few leaves and twigs stuck out from her hair and clothes, and mud stained her hem. Sasuke was certain he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. 

“You are giving me a look again.” She dropped her hands to her hips. 

“Can’t help it.” The golden light set off the tint of her skin and made her eyes glow. He still couldn’t understand how a woman like her fell for a man like him. But he was so glad she had. Sasuke closed the distance between them in a few steps. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Mai blushed, staining her cheeks an even darker hue. “You’ve been spending too much time with Shingen. Are you going to ask me if I’m a thief next?”

“A thief?”

“Yeah, because I stole your heart.” 

Sasuke laughed. “No. You can’t steal something when I gave it to you already.” Which was also probably something Shingen could say. Well, you couldn't top the flirt-master. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I love getting to look at you every day.”

“Even when I’m filthy and sweaty and probably covered in bugs and dirt?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Especially then. You’re like a wild forest fairy today. Though, I don’t believe in fairies. But the fairy is an accurate comparison, as a literary device to denote -”

Mai kissed him, silencing the lecture with her sweet, salty lips. When she pulled back, she tapped him on the nose. “Sometimes you explain too much. You can stop at ‘fairy’.”

Sasuke felt his heart skip a beat at the love in her eyes right then. He chuckled and nodded. “Noted.” His thumb stroked her knuckles on the hand he still held. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Hmmm. I don’t know. Let’s weigh the pros and cons.” She nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. “Pros, you are a really good kisser. And I like being kissed. That about covers it. Then cons. The cons are -” Mai paused. “Well, actually, I can’t think of any cons.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” When he kissed her again, he felt as if he were flying. All of his tiredness disappeared in the softness of her lips and the feel of her in his arms.

[thatfreshi]

I Would Want You to Go With Me (Markiplier x reader)

This is about double the length of my other pieces. More of a fluffy slow burn. Had a lot of fun with this one!

(Suggested song: 400 Lux - Lorde)

You hang up the phone and fall back onto the couch. That was Ethan on the line, telling you that your road trip had to be postponed. You were excited to get away for a while, and now it would have to wait til next week. Work has been a little bit of a drag, and you really need a break. Funnily enough, you and Mark have an “editing hangout” scheduled, where you literally sit in your living room and edit and give each other shit when you get off track. Between his ADHD and your lack of motivation, it’s an efficient yet fun arrangement. Before you could finish thinking about how you really don’t want to do any extra work, your front door opens.

“Well y/n, I have bad news and bad news.”

You sit up on the couch.

“Is it worse than Ethan canceling our trip?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so? First of all, your trash can is knocked over, and it is 100% not because I parked really bad today.”

“Markkkk, if you’re gonna come over here so we can both work better, can you please not add more to my plate? Now I have to go pick up the trash and edit two pretty lengthy videos.”

“You know what? Fair. I will go fix it, but before that, second round of bad news: I brought the wrong drive with me, which means I actually have nothing to edit!”

You put your head in your hands and sigh.

“So you get to sit here and torment me while I work? Great, wonderful.”

Or course you’re being sarcastic, but some of it is true. After all, you do have a lot to do, and you were really looking forward to that trip.

“Nooo, it’ll be fun! I’ll sit here and talk non-stop while you hopefully get something done and it’ll all be fine! But first, I am going to pick up your trash can before I forget.”

You lay back down as the door closes again and sigh. Again. At least he’s here, and you’ll have some ounce of support to get you through the monotonous work. Besides, you like when he comes over. He usually stays the night since you guys live quite a ways away from each other. California is a big state after all. You and Mark end up ordering in some food and playing some mind-numbing game on your TV until you both pass out on the couch. Is it a little childish? Yes. Do you both plan on stopping anytime soon? Not a chance.

“Alright, trash can is back in position M’lady. Now, you have work to do.”

You groan in the most dramatic way possible.

“But do I haveeeee tooooo?”

“I mean, I did come down here for us to work, and I can’t do any, which by my math means you have to do enough work for the both of us.”

Then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Well, you do still have your laptop in your bag right?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“So, by my math, if I have two videos to edit and there are two of us and we have two laptops… it seems like I should just send you my other video, and you can edit it for me.”

“You know what? That’s fair. Alright, give me what you got.”

You both edit and talk for a couple of hours, shooting the shit and somehow paying attention to each other through the two extra yous talking. Eventually, you get back on the subject of the road trip.

“Yeah, I’m honestly pretty bummed. Like sure, editing is fun and all, and I love running my own channel, but god damn, I need a break.”

Mark looks away from his screen and thinks for a moment.

“Well, I mean, I know you wanted to go with Ethan, but if he’s busy, I don’t know, we could go on a trip tomorrow. I already packed overnight stuff, and you don’t have to cancel with Ethan obviously, but what’s the harm in two vacations?”

You close your laptop, having just finished your video. You didn’t tell Mark, but you gave him the longer recording to go through.

“I don’t know. I’m worried I’ll end up taking too much time off and get out of my groove or something.”

“Well, no offense y/n, but you’ve kinda been out of your groove for a while. Maybe you need something spontaneous to jump your system, ya know?”

You throw one of the decorative pillows at him.

“First of all, that was fully offensive. Second of all… you’re sadly probably right.”

“Why am I ‘sadly probably right?’”

“Because anytime you’re right is a sad time.”

He chucks the pillow back at you.

“Yeah, okay, I deserve that.”

You two laugh at the exchange for a little before Mark returns to wrap up his edit. When he’s finally finished, you order some pizza and start to put together a game plan for what you two are now calling ‘The Most Awesome Epic Overnight Sleepover to Road Trip of Spectacularness Ever,’ or MAEOSRTSE for short. You don’t refer to it by its full name or abbreviation for very long. 

“So, what is the plan for this amazing road trip that’s only now amazing because I’m a part of it?”

You scoff.

“Well, I was just kinda planning to hit all the big Cali cities? I haven’t lived here too long and I wanted to explore. Like honestly I think the only times I’ve been to LA are to visit you or Ethan. I’m surprised you and Ethan didn’t talk about it at all.”

“I mean, I didn’t wanna pry or anything.”

You cock your head at him.

“Why would you be prying?”

“Well, I just kinda figured it wasn’t exactly… a friendly trip.”

“Woah, I’m not like mad at Ethan or anything. Do you think I’m gonna murder him in SoCal?!”

“I mean I don’t know. You’re probably capable of it.”

“No but really, what do you mean?”

“I just thought maybe you were gonna make things with him more than friends, that’s all.”

“WOAH, no way. Ethan and I have been friends for like, a million years. He’s basically my brother at this point, gross.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a sign of relief, but perhaps not. You’ve only known Mark for the year or so you’ve lived here. Ethan was actually the one who introduced you, and he actually thought that you would hit it off. You’ve become really good friends, but you didn’t ever think it would go beyond that. Sure, he’s amazing and pretty and his smile makes you blush sometimes, but you wouldn’t want to ruin anything you two already had just to see if maybe you could date. Just as you start to ponder what that could look like, the pizza arrives. Luckily you live pretty close to a Domino’s.

“I’ll get it.”

Mark hops off the couch and grabs your pizzas from the delivery guy, tipping him generously in the process. He brings the cheesy delights back to the coffee table and makes his way into your kitchen to get some paper towels.

“So, are you into anyone? Because I always kind of assumed you and Ethan had this like on again off again thing goin on.”

“Agasp! Is Mark Fischbach trying to gossip with me right now?!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say gossip. Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

“I guess you can just ask things without it being scandalous. No, I’m not particularly interested in anyone, but I wouldn’t be opposed to like a date or anything romantic. I guess I’ve just been too busy to look into anything like that right now.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll come at just the right time.”

He smiles as he gives you a share of paper towels.

“So, this California trip. You just want to hit the big cities? Do you want to do anything specific?

“Not really. Honestly I just want to drive and see where the wind takes us, see what’s out there.”

“I can work with that.”

The both of you binge on pizza for a while and play some Mario Party, cursing each other out whenever you put each other behind on the board. After a while, you go into bread-based delirium and only half pay attention to each round. Eventually, your blinks get longer and longer, and you fall into the soft embrace of the couch. However, when Mark wakes you up soon after, you realize it was not the couch, but was actually him.

“I’m sorry y/n. I didn’t want to wake you, but I had to get up and I didn’t want to startle you or anything. I was just going to put everything away.”

You sit up slowly, trying to get your brain working again.

“What? No, you don’t have to do that, just leave it out it’s fine.”

“Y/n, I always put everything away after you fall asleep.”

“Really? That’s so nice. Thanks Mark.”

You hug him in your sleepless daze, not really thinking about it. He wraps his arm around you for a moment, before realizing he probably shouldn’t linger.

“Well, I’m gonna clean, and you can get back to bed, okay?”

“Mm, okay.”

He slowly unwraps you from his side, and before you know it, you’re waking up to a clean table and the smell of pizza and soda eradicated.

It’s 9, maybe 10 am. Mark is huddled into the corner of the couch, asleep, basically giving you the rest. You try to remember what happened before you fell asleep, but it’s hopeless. You two stay up far too late for your brain to process anything most nights. In fact, you only woke up due to some piece of shit revving their engine outside.

Now that you’re up, you decide to go freshen up, maybe change clothes. And besides, you do have to start packing for this trip. You feel a little guilty for not telling Ethan, but for whatever reason, you jumped at the opportunity when Mark offered to go in his stead. Over the past year, the two of you had become really good friends. Sure, you’ve known Ethan forever, but your friendship with him was nothing like this. These nights spent together with Mark, they were probably your favorite parts of the month. It was easy being around him. You didn’t have to try, you didn’t have to filter yourself, you could just, be.

After a shower and a quick change, you come back to the common space, where Mark was now awake, sleepily scrolling through Twitter, cozied up in your throw blanket. He often complains about his bad morning social media habits, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop anytime soon.

“Good morning Mark. You want something to eat? I have eggs, cheese… more eggs…”

You then realize the only thing you can really make is an omelet.

“Okay, so unless you want to just eat cheese, it’s looking like it’s gonna be something, uh, eggy.”

He stretches out on the couch, trying to get a hold of his surroundings. He’s not particularly a morning person, at least not right after he wakes up.

“Yeah, eggs, sounds good.”

He stumbles off to your bathroom. You hear the shower running again as you begin getting out your frying pan and cracking eggs. The kitchen fills with the pleasant scent of butter and pepper, and for a moment, you think about how peaceful everything is. You think about how you could live like this forever. You don’t even particularly know what that means.

“Your water pressure still sucks you know.”

You almost jump at his voice, as you were thoroughly lost in thought. 

“Okay, and I don’t exactly have the money or the time to fix that, now do I? Unless you’re offering to fix it, I wouldn’t complain.”

He playfully rolls his eyes and opens your fridge, grabbing for the orange juice. Right around then, the omelets are done.

“Do you seriously have pulp orange juice in here? Jesus Christ, this is SO MUCH PULP.”

You can’t help but laugh so loud that your entire neighborhood probably heard it. 

“Mark, are you seriously gonna be a baby about some orange, in your orange juice?”

“I just don’t get why you need MORE orange in it, like it’s already so much orange!”

“Okay well if it’s that upsetting, why don’t you just strain it or something.”

And that’s exactly what he does, almost pouring all of your OJ down the sink in the process. Once that catastrophe is avoided, you two go back to the couch and eat your cheesy eggs. After finishing up breakfast and finalizing your road trip plans, Mark realizes he has almost nothing past spending the night. The both of you pack, and you end up finding some hoodies of yours that fit him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try this another time? I know it can be a little stressful if you’re not fully prepared for something.”

“Oh, trust me, I may not be very prepared in reality, but in this ol noggin up here? Extremely prepared. So prepared that it’s literally in my bloodstream.”

You aren’t sure what’s gotten into him. Mark is usually more of a homebody, even more than you are, and yet he’s so ready to go across the state with you. 

“Besides, I asked the dog sitter to work a couple extra days, and I have uploads scheduled for a little bit. It’ll be fine y/n. I want to do this with you.”

With that, you both are finished packing, unsure of exactly how long you’ll be gone for. Luckily your jobs both give you a lot of flexibility, and you don’t have anything at home that needs attending to, other than your water pressure apparently.

Soon enough, you’re on the road. You decided to take your car, as it has more storage space, but Mark insists on driving. You get into a fake argument over the trash incident from the night before, but he claims that parking is his only issue, not the actual driving part. You decide to trust him for whatever reason. 

The first stop is LA. It’s been a while since you’ve gone, as Mark usually ends up going to your place instead of vice versa. It’s around two hours away since you live closer to Bakersfield. Some could argue that your California trip isn’t very genuine, but Northern California is about as boring as watching paint dry. At least, that’s what Mark says. Instead, you decide to trek to every major city in SoCal.

The next two hours are spent playing improv games in the car, and Mark getting mad every time you don’t follow the “Yes, and” rule. It’s not your fault that you didn’t do theatre in high school. After a while, you run out of scene ideas, and you begin just staring at the desert out the window. 

“You alright y/n?”

“Yeah, just taking it all in, being in the moment.”

Mark isn’t much for music in the car, but he does hum to himself, either things he’s heard previously or little tunes he’s made up in his head. It’s nice, melodic, the perfect thing to add to the peace that you feel in this moment. Sometimes he hums something familiar, and the both of you buzz along together, until eventually he swaps to something you’ve either forgotten or never known. You love this, the fact that you and Mark don’t have to talk all the time, that it can be quiet and calm, and you can still enjoy each other’s presence. However, the moment does indeed pass, as you’re almost to LA.

“So, anything in particular you want to do? Or is this more of a dealer’s choice thing?”

“I mean, you’re the one who lives here, so yeah, show me around.”

The rest of the day is spent going to all the little nooks and crannies that he knows exist in the city. Small antique stores, hidden coffee shops, tiny parks full of birds singing. At one point, you think one of them tweets a little song Mark was humming earlier, but it was probably only your imagination. By the time it’s dark, you’re at an ice cream parlor, and he makes fun of you for picking rocky road. 

“I just don’t understand why people need their food to be so, complicated. Me? Vanilla, all the way.”

“So you don’t want two flavors at once? Like you don’t mix your stuffing and mashed potatoes together at Thanksgiving?”

“Oh god, no! No way! That would ruin the sanctity of the meal.”

It’s late enough that you’re the only two there. In fact, the employees are cleaning up as you speak. Mark assured them that you wouldn’t take too long while you paid. One of the workers smiles at the two of you bickering before going back to closing up for the night.

“We should probably get back to the car.”

He nods, and you both take your ice cream with you, thanking the parlor workers as you leave. Usually it would still be bustling at this time of night, but he took you to a small offshoot where people weren’t up crazy late, and the squirrels still roamed the streets. When you get back in the car, the two of you sit there for a while, trying to decide where to stay for the night.

“Well, we could go to your place, but I wouldn’t want to disrupt the dog-sitter.”

“Maybe we should just camp out tonight. There’s lots of beautiful desert around here.”

You decide to trust him, despite the idea of camping out in the middle of nowhere making you extremely nervous. After all, you do trust him. He’d never lead you astray, at least on purpose. He starts the car, and it takes about another hour to get back into the middle of nowhere. Mark hasn’t used GPS all day, and he claims that he just knows where he’s going most of the time. It was clear that he knew where he was going now as it got darker out and the buildings became sparser. 

Eventually, he pulls off the road and into a vast expanse of desert. It’s a lot brighter than you thought it would be. The stars, speckled across the sea of space above you. When he eventually stops, the both of you open the back of your car and set up for the night, laying out blankets and a small lantern you packed away at the last minute.

“I’m happy you took me out here.”

You two don’t usually get very sentimental. Everything about your friendship is fun and games. 

“How come?”

He eyes you with thoughtfulness.

“I… I really needed the break. It’s been a lot of fun.”

There’s a drizzle of honey in your tone.

“Well don’t get all sappy yet. We still have a couple days.”

You don’t know why you’re feeling so emotional about all of this. Of course, you’re excited to have more of the trip left to go, but today has been perfect. Fully, genuinely, perfect. When you’re thinking back, you remember last night, how you fell asleep on Mark’s shoulder, how he always cleans up when you fall asleep.

“You don’t have to do that y’know.”

He looks confused by your sudden shift.

“Do what?”

“Clean up after our sleepovers. I just remembered.”

“You know, I’ve told you that multiple times, and you usually forget. I really don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but I’m the host. It just feels rude that I let you do it all.”

“You don’t let me do anything. You didn’t even know, and besides, again, I really don’t mind. Promise.”

You hold out your pinky, and he locks into it with his own. You smile, getting up to get a better look at the stars. He watches you for a moment before going to join you. Before you know it, you’re lying on the desert sand, looking for any of the constellations you remember from school.

“Have I ever told you how much I like space?”

You roll over to look at him.

“I mean, I’ve heard plenty about it, but you haven’t told me yourself.”

“Would you go? If you had the chance?”

“To space? I don’t know. Depends on if it was safe I guess.”

“Well, if I had the chance, I would want you to go with me.”

He turns to meet your gaze.

“And I would tell you everything I know about the stars. Hell, I’d probably name a star after you.”

You blush a little, surprised by his sudden loving tone.

“In that case, I would go with you.”

You lock together yet another pinky promise, your hands lingering moments too long, eventually interlocking your fingers.

“Mark, I-”

He kisses you before you can finish your sentence. You kiss him back. You both know what you would’ve said anyways. When your lips finally break free, you’re both smiling, giggling like you did in your youth. That night, you cuddle up in the back of your car, dealing with the cold that the desert brings. It’s okay though, you don’t mind. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing could ruin how oblivious you’ve been to what’s clearly been here all along. Nothing could ruin this spectacular realization you’ve had today.

“I guess I’ll have to come over more, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so. And now every night can be editing night.”

The blanket of the stars brought you together that night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[wildermouse]

Anything new lately? How are you?

ahh !!!

so like in life, nothing has really changed. my sister is back home for now and it’s been good hanging out with her. feel like i’ve really been bonding with my sisters this past year and it’s been nice.

i did, however, go to a Lights concert (my 7th or 8th one i think) and i held her hand (again) and it was amazing but what was even more amazing is that i dressed in a STATEMENT outfit (will post pics) and it was revealing and it was HOT and i felt GOOD and i got so hyped up by everyone even my MOM who only scolded me bc apparently i shouldn’t have been wearing any underwear with the pants i was wearing 💀💀 (pls mom they matched my top it was a good look (you’ll see)) and my friend & i went to a taphouse beforehand and got a couple drinks (i haven’t drank with anyone in SO LONG) and i got a little tipsy and we laughed SO much and it was healing and then i got two more drinks at the concert so i was feeling GOOD and i initiated conversation with this group of girls beside us and we mingled groups and i was so confident and talkative and flirty like oh my fuck i told them i was in my slut era and then my mom said she’s in hers too 💀 which they all loved and two of them at one point ran their nails across my scalp and the back of my neck and when i tell you i melted. jfc. in the middle of the club in a crowd at a concert. pls. and then i asked if anyone liked hugs bc i need a hug and this very tall hot woman volunteered and she held me dude. she fucking held me for a solid couple minutes and it was amazing. and then i hugged my sister and it made her emosh bc i don’t do that. there’s more to the night but oh my god it was just so fucking good. one of my favourite nights for sure. and the best part is i DON’T REGRET IT!! i almost always regret everything i do/say after i drink not bc i do anything bad it’s just that it makes my social anxiety fuck off so i’m more outgoing and vocal than usual. but nah, i was who i want to be. i’m growing.

i have TRAVEL PLANS !! my wifey is coming to visit at the end of next month and we’re gonna road trip!! gonna be so good i’ve been wanting to do this particular trip with her forever. then the rest of the plans are still up in the air but i’ll be going back to europe in the summer, and MAYBE in spring for a big tattoo but i’m thinking of postponing that til at least next year.

might move in w my mom spring-summer and start horseback riding again but that’s so complicated bc i’ve gotta take care of my sisters animals while she’s at work hhhh

i joined a warrior nun discord and have been making friends on there and it’s been sooo nice. i like actually have people to talk to. + the warrior nun fight is going so well and i love actually being an active part of the fight. y’all go watch warrior nun i s2g

idk like not a lot is currently happening but my mental state has been SO good since the beginning of the year. i think i was so burnt out for so long i needed last year to just.. lay down and do nothing. and it sucked, but i feel a lot better now. i feel motivated and i really wanna figure life stuff out. it’s hard bc it’s not all up to me but i’m working on it.

tomorrow is my birthday and instead of sulking away alone in my room i’m actually going out and bringing my friend with me and going to buy myself little birthday treats and getting tattoos and i reached out to people i haven’t seen in a long time and they’re hopefully joining me for board games and it’s just nice. the fact that i’m allowing myself to be happy on my birthday, to try and let myself feel worthy of others’ attention and time, to not beat myself up about wasting another year, so actually want to be seen. i think it says a lot about my mental state and i don’t remember the last time i’ve felt like this for longer than 10 minutes before the guilt sets in

so yeah. i’m good. i’m really good. or at least i’m starting to be <3

[thewaybackcloset]

Working Vacation: Car Talk in the Bayous

While I’m not technically a roadie, I don’t really know how else to call this experience. This is my first time being “homeless” in the sense that my lease is up and all my belongings are in storage. My puttering 2003 Mercedes Benz salvage is hanging on by the little money I throw at it from time to time. I call him “The Duke” short for Bowie’s Station to Station persona “Thin White Duke” where I allegedly lived on bell peppers, milk, and mammoth amounts of cocaine. Thus, fiving him a sickly lean, pale figure, with erratic political commentary. If a car could talk, the Benz would probably be shouting at me to throw him more dough to get that sweet fix he so desires. Fittingly, Bowie settled in West Berlin to recover and shed this persona, where the Mercedes hails from. “They last forever” everyone tells me, but only if throw your entire savings at it.

So, while my car is at the babysitter’s, caregiver’s friend’s of friends driveway, my stuff in a metal storage unit in Austin, likely to melt throughout the summer, my two and half backpacks get into a 2023 Kia Sportage for a working vacation. Of course, I’m not alone on this trip. Did you think I just up and bought a brand-new Kia to hit the road? Absolutely not. I’ve made choices that are financially questionable before, but no I’m the roadie on this madness of a work-life balance.  

Somewhat accurate portrayal of me sleeping in the car.

The first stop happened to be in New Orleans for Lundi Gras, which is the day before Mardi Gras. Hopefully I'm spelling that right. We parked around the Bywater neighborhood, which I've learned to translate "Silver in the River", meaning the flood waters didn't reach this area?! While wandering around it was apparent that Bywater is district full of unique artwork, even as far as optical illusions that some have installed into their own homes. [ See Alice squishing into someone's porch, above! ] Sensory overload overcame us as we just kept walking among locals in costumes, face paint, glitter, pasties, beads all over the ground, in the trees, wherever you could hang those shiny plastic balls. We ended up going to Dat Dog for a walkin' dinner. I got a loaded veggie dog and he got a gator dog, the first of a couple alligator experiences.

In the morning, if you're looking for a coffee shop, don't. I've learned that every cute Mom and Pop shop takes Lundi/Mardi Gras as a local holiday. Makes sense vacation time-wise and it also doesn't from a business perspective. Anyway, enter my powdered coffee packets that I really need to break up with. And since it is THE DAY OF ALL THE MARDI GRAS parades, we hightailed it out of there. Only after I said hi to my aunt and uncle who dress up nearly each year and walk with many parade krewes.

[itsrottenwork]

Hi mj!! Secret Santa here!! Happy Friday!! May your weekend be a long and restful one, at that!!✨

Oooooo politics and communication!! Sending you all the luck for the rest of your college years!! Just based on that alone, I totally understand the hardships of it all!! Being in college is hard enough, but when it’s a major with a lot of complexities and nuance that can be brought to the table, I can only imagine lol!! What made you want to go into politics and communications, if you don’t mind me asking?

Awe, I’d love to see a picture of your succulents!! I bet they look great!! I’d send a picture of my cacti, but I can’t while on anon!! After we properly introduce ourselves, I can!! If you were able to, where would you like to travel next, given the opportunity? When I was in Italy, my friends and I were supposed to travel to the UK for spring break, but because of COVID spreading as fast as it did, our abroad program pulled us out, so we never got to go!! I’d love to go back to Europe and explore the places I never got to see!! I’d probably also go down to South America!!

The jingling reindeer ears? That’s so cute!! 🥺 I feel you about the whole crowded spaces at concerts!! Ever since the pandemic hit, it’s never really gotten back to normal in terms of the concert space!! Since the start of this year, I’ve been to so many concerts, yet, I’ve always tried to do my part in being as careful as I can when in those spaces!! Hopefully someone you enjoy tours in your city so you can attend!!

Love that!! I’ve been so behind on YouTube content!! Sometimes, I just have to be in the mood to watch them so I tend to fall behind when it comes to certain uploads rather quickly!! Ooooo cinnamon!! Anything apple cinnamon is so comforting, especially as a candle scent anytime of the year!!

More speed round questions!! What are three things you know you can’t live without?! Do you have a collection of any kind? Any cool knickknacks lol? If you can meet anyone in the world (dead or alive), who would it be and what would you ask them?🎄✨

this is my last year actually!! I'm in a one-year master's program, so it's only this year, but this is my last year of any sort of schooling, after this I'll be done done. I've always been interested in politics, bit of an idealist I am, and I also enjoy the more creative side, the writing and branding and whatnot, so yeah comms is the route that I see myself best able to contribute :)

here they are!! and also the little cat rock I painted a year or two ago. there's also some really little ones underneath the big one in the back but I couldn't get everyone in the one photo hehe

I always like to have travel plans set, even if they're way in the future, so I do have a few things planned already. my family is going to austria during winter break, and for spring break my friends and I are looking at doing a road trip around a whole bunch of different cities, but we're still working out the details. I'd love to travel somewhere outside of europe, but as I am currently in europe it's easiest to travel close by

what concerts have you seen this year? or if you've seen too many to list, what ones were your favorites? I don't think I've been to a concert since 2019 tbh, it's fun and I kinda miss the vibe but it's not something I ever really did a lot, so I don't mind not going too

speed round answers!! although I feel like I'm not very speedy when I answer them lol

three things: probably really basic answers but phone (for obvious reasons), water bottle (hydrate or die-drate baby), and keys (I really like having a physical totem of This Is Where I Live, one of the best gifts I ever got was when my friend gave me a key to her apartment when I moved in with her)

collections: I don't really collect anything I think? I take a lot of photos though, so I've got those hanging on my wall, and every year my friends from high school all get together in the exact same way and we take the same polaroid every summer, so I guess I have a collection of those haha

cool knickknacks: coolest knickknack on my shelf at the minute is the boomerang I painted when I was in australia, though my shelves here at uni are a bit sparse

meet anyone: I wish I could talk to my great grandfather, I never met him but the way my mom and grandparents talk about him, I'd want to be able to sit down with him and hear like, his whole life story basically

[blue-labcoat]

Honey

summary: spencer and fem!reader have to drive out to a case instead of taking the jet. reader decides it's a perfect time to tell him how she feels about him. based off the song honey by coastal club

genre: fluffy fluff! 2.6k

warnings: nothing!

you can find my masterlist here!

a/n: I'm not in love with this (also the ending is shit), but I needed something to get me out of my writing slump, so here you go!

It had been four weeks since my surgery, and my doctor had finally given me the all-clear to go back to work, on two conditions: I was not supposed to be active in the field, and I was not allowed to travel on the jet. It was only for two weeks, but I refused to not go with the team on cases just because I couldn't fly.

"Please, Hotch? I'm a doctor too, you know. I swear I'll be fine, it's not even a long flight!"

"First of all, you're not a medical doctor, y/l/n. Second of all, absolutely not," Hotch replied sternly. "You need to follow the instructions that your doctor gave you. You can stay here with Garcia, and join us on the case virtually."

"What if I drove? The case is only in Boston, that's less than an eight-hour drive."

Hotch sighed. "If you can find someone to go with you, fine. But you still can't be in the field, understood?"

I nodded, scanning the bullpen to see who I could ask to drive with me. My eyes landed on Spencer, who was skimming through the case file that we had just been given.

I had only been at the BAU for a year or so, but they had quickly welcomed me into their small family. Even though I was only 8 months younger than Spencer, I was the new baby of the BAU. At first, I had thought that he didn't like me. To be fair, he had been there much longer than I had. I became defensive, and we spent a few months trying to outdo one another. However, after one of our little spats got in the way of us doing our jobs, we learned to get along.

Once we started hanging out, we quickly became close friends. I had two PhDs to his three, mine in psychology and anthropology. Just like Spencer, I had graduated when I was quite young, and tore through university. To be completely honest, I had developed feelings for him, but I didn't think I would ever act on them.

However. I wouldn't mind spending a little extra time with him, making him a perfect candidate to be my road trip buddy.

"Spencerrr," I called in a singsong-y voice as I approached his desk. He looked up at me, narrowing his eyes.

"What do you want?" He asked playfully.

I smiled hopefully at him. "So. My doctor and Hotch have both forbidden me from air travel, but I still want to go with you guys on the case, so Hotch said if I could find someone to go with me, I could drive to Boston instead of staying here with Garcia. It's not that I don't want to stay here with Penelope; she's very fun, but I'm dying to get back out on cases. And so, I am pretty please asking you in a very nice way if you'll drive with me to Boston?"

"Sure," he replied, turning back to the case file.

"Wait, really?" I didn't think he would agree so easily. I thought, at the very least, that I'd have to bribe him with something.

"Yeah, sounds fun. When do you want to leave?"

I blinked. "Um, ASAP I guess. Get a head start on the jet."

"Okay." He looked back up at me. "Just let me grab my go-bag, and I'll meet you downstairs."

I'll pick you up from your caffeine drought I got a feeling that you're coming around

"Did you want to stop for a coffee?" I asked once we were on the road.

"Yes please," Spencer answered. "I'll even pay, on the condition that you turn off this music."

I rolled my eyes and hit his shoulder playfully. "I like Haydn just as much as the next guy, but let's be honest here. Symphony #45 isn't exactly the best driving music," I teased. "And so, if I must, I will pay for coffee if it means I can keep listening to the Rolling Stones. I have a feeling you'll come around anyways, Dr Reid. This is basically the definition of classic rock."

"Don't get your hopes up," he countered. "You should consider yourself lucky if I'm still able to tolerate your music after the next eight hours."

I started laughing at the words you spoke I kind of like you and your stupid jokes

About an hour and a half into the drive, I was already bored.

"Whatcha reading, Spence?" I didn't want to be annoying - I knew he was trying to read, but I was honestly so bored.

"I'm rereading War and Peace, but this time in the original Russian," he replied nonchalantly. Anyone else might have thought that he was bragging, but I knew he didn't mean it like that. One of the things I liked best about Spencer was that even though he knew he was smart, he never saw a reason to stop trying to learn new things.

"Interesting," I nodded. "How would you feel about a conversation with me instead of reading about Bezukhov?"

"Alright," Spencer replied, closing the book and setting it on the dash. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. I'm just bored. Tell me something about stuff that other people aren't interested in hearing about."

He thought for a moment, and then began to talk animatedly about something called deep reinforcement learning.

"I've been reading research papers about it lately. Despite my aversion to technology, I find it interesting how AIs are being developed. Basically, deep reinforcement learning is a branch of machine learning in which the process of learning is gamified by rewarding the 'agent' when he makes 'good moves', or correct predictions, to be more precise."

I glanced over at one point during his spiel. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was waving his hands around. He was more talking to himself than to me, but it was adorable.

When he was finished, he asked me something about his little lecture, but I just chuckled.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, Reid. I understood about 15% of that. Any chance you have a dumb joke that I might understand?"

"I actually have several," he said.

"Hit me."

"There are 10 kinds of people in this world. Those who understand binary, and those who don't." He let out a boyish giggle, and looked over at me to make sure that I had understood the joke.

"Ha," I let out a dry chuckle. "Very funny."

"Okay, okay, here's another one: A photon checks into a hotel and is asked if he needs any help with his luggage. 'No,' he replies. 'I'm travelling light'".

I groaned. "Spence, that's terrible. I'm pretty sure my eight-year-old niece told me that one a few weeks ago."

"Well, I tried my best," he defended. "What else do you want to talk about?"

"I dunno. Teach me more stuff. Something I have a shot at understanding this time, maybe?"

"Okay, just let me think for a minute."

I've learned to love you, honey And you've got a way with me

It was hour four. We'd stopped at a gas station for a bathroom break and, of course, snacks.

"Why do you insist on buying a whole bunch of iced teas?" Spencer had asked me. "You're just going to have to go pee again in half an hour."

"Iced tea brings me joy, Spencer," I had told him. "Just leave me be."

Now that we were back on the road, it was silent again. Spencer had taken over driving, against my will.

"I'm glad we're friends now," said Spencer, all the sudden.

I looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I just mean that I was kind of rude to you when you first joined the team. To be fair, you were not a ray of sunshine either, but I guess I'm just saying that I'm glad we were able to get over that rift. Because I really like being your friend, and spending time with you."

I smiled over at him. "I like being your friend too, Spence. And thanks again for driving up with me so that I could come on the case."

"No problem. Like I said, I like spending time with you."

I blushed and looked back out the window. I had a sudden urge to tell him how I felt - that I liked being friends, but I wanted more. I shook the thought out of my head almost immediately after, reminding myself that he was my coworker, so even if he did feel the same, it probably wouldn't be a good idea anyways.

I got a fever that I cannot shake The thought of you and the interstate

We only had about two hours left until Boston. The drive had gone by shockingly fast, and I had to admit that I was a little sad it was going to be over soon. I didn't particularly like being in a car for nearly eight hours, but there was something about spending the time with Spencer that just made it that much more enjoyable.

"We should probably start talking about the case," I told Spencer, flipping through the case file. He was driving, but he had already read it and I knew he wouldn't have any trouble recalling anything. "Just so that we have something to offer when we get to the precinct."

"Well, while you were napping earlier, I started to think about a geographical profile. If you get out the map in the file, and there's a red marker in my bag - no, the front pocket - I can tell you what to draw."

I nodded, rooting through his bag. I felt the marker, and grasped it to pull it out. When I brought it out of the pocket, though, a small square tumbled out and onto the floor. I picked it up, smirking.

"What's this, Dr Reid?" I asked, holding up the condom for him to see. "You tend to get a lot of action on cases? I mean, I know I haven't known you that long, but you don't really seem the type," I teased. It really wasn't any of my business, but teasing him about it distracted me from being disappointed about the fact that he might actually carry a condom around for a reason.

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, blushing. "I- no. I don't, Morgan - he gave it to me as a joke, you see, when we went to LA last week, because a few years ago - it doesn't matter. I don't, um, get a lot of action, as you put it. None at all, really. So..." he trailed off.

"I'm just teasing, Spence," I reassured him. I felt kind of bad. "Better safe than sorry, right?" I cringed at myself. What was I even saying? An awkward silence hung over the car for a moment, before I spoke again, deciding to just try and move past it.

"Anyways, the geoprofile - what were you going to tell me to do?

Spencer, presumably glad for the change in topic, began to reel off several possibilities, instructing me where to draw on the map.

When we were finished, I took my phone out and snapped a photo of the map. "I'm going to send this to Hotch. I know we're not far away, but maybe it will be useful to them."

"Good idea," agreed Spencer. "Tell him what I said about a potential fourth location, too."

I nodded, typing into my phone, when I felt the car start to slow down.

"Why are you slowing down?" I asked, looking over at Spencer. Other cars were speeding by us, honking.

"I'm not! Something's wrong with the car, I don't - I can't do anything. I'm just going to pull over," he responded, knuckles turning white around the steering wheel.

He pulled onto the shoulder of the road, coming to a stop. We both got out of the car right away, and went around to the front to open the hood.

I stepped back, waiting for Spencer to diagnose the car, but he stepped back too, looking at me expectantly.

"Well?" I asked. "What's wrong with it?"

"How would I know?" He replied, throwing his hands up.

"Aren't you supposed to be some kind of genius? Don't you know how a car works?"

"I do know how a car works!" Spencer blustered. "At least, theoretically. I'm not a mechanic!"

"Well, neither am I! What are we going to do? We're at least an hour away still."

"Well, we should probably call Hotch first and tell him we're going to be late. Maybe he can send someone out to pick us up?" Spencer suggested.

I nodded, pulling out my phone to call Hotch.

You're wide-eyed and alive So full of life, I'm mesmerized by your love

After getting off the phone with Hotch, Spencer and I sat down in the ditch. We were both tired of being in the car.

"You know," began Spencer, pulling at the grass on either side of him. "When you started at the BAU, it wasn't that I didn't like you. I was a little bit intimidated by you, to be honest."

"Really?" I asked, squinting at him in the sun. "Why?"

He looked down at his lap, blushing. "Well, you're smart, for one. Enough to call my bluff on things, which no one really ever does, even if they should. Plus, people like you. I mean, some people like me, but I tend to come off very awkwardly, socially, so lots of people think I'm weird. You - you're smart, but you're also really good with people. And to top that off, you're a very, um, attractive individual." He mumbled the last part, somehow turning even redder.

Spencer thought I was attractive? Maybe now was as good a time as any to tell him how I felt. We would be here for at least another hour, would it really do any harm? Either he feels the same way, and it's great, or he doesn't and we just sit here awkwardly and then get over it.

"Spencer, I..." I took a deep breath. "You're attractive too, you know. I mean, I find you attractive. I'm attracted to you." I was quickly losing my train of thought. My mouth was dry and my heart felt like it was beating in my throat. I just had to spit it out.

"I really like you, Spencer. As more than a friend." I looked away as I said it, not wanting to see his reaction. Just in case.

"Y/n?" He said my name softly, placing a hand under my chin and turning my head gently so I was looking at him. His eyes were so pretty in the sunlight - the way the light caught them, they were a deep honey colour. I had always liked his eyes. They were always full of curiosity and inquisitiveness, but above all else, they were kind.

"I really like you, too, y/n," he finally said, smiling. "Do you really think I would have made the decision to drive for eight hours if I didn't? I hate driving. But, I like you more than I hate driving, and-"

I cut his rambling off, leaning forward to close the space between us and pressing my lips against his. Just before I was about to pull away, Spencer began to move his lips against mine, deepening the kiss. My hand snaked up to the nape of his neck, grasping a few of the small curls there.

After a moment, we finally pulled away.

Let's fall in love and never give it up

"Do you think I could maybe take you on a date when we get back?" Spencer asked.

"Of course, silly boy," I replied, caressing his cheek. "I'd love nothing more."

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?  Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, @hoebii​ and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.”  As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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[rebelwrites]

Waking Up In Vegas || Part Three

Jax Teller x Reader

Summary: Jax and Y/N had always been close, they were each other’s partners in crime, the light in the dark and the shelter from the storm. Both just coming out of messy divorces and being each other’s life line. So what happens when Jax springs a last minute trip on Y/N? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, well that’s what they thought.

Waking Up In Vegas Masterlist

This Months Writing

A/N another shorter one, I’ve looked and they get a lot longer from around part 7

To unlock the next part this post needs to reach 50 notes 🖤

“Fuck, this is tuuuuuuune,” you shrieked turning up the radio from the controls on your steering wheel. Jax snorted as he laughed, he always found it amusing when you got so excited over a song. But he was slightly concerned knowing how into the songs you got and with you driving it was just a recipe for disaster.

“I need love, love. Ooh to ease my mind and I need to find time. Someone to call mine. My mama said, "you can't hurry love. No, you'll just have to wait" She said, "love don't come easy. Well it's a game of give and take"” You sang at the top of your lungs, not caring that you were making a fool out of yourself, letting the music take over you started dancing along to the music. “You can't hurry love. No, you'll just have to wait. Just trust in the good time.No matter how long it takes.”

Jax had to admit even though it was an old song it was a banger and he found himself singing along. Both of your vocals mixed together and sounded like a dying cat that was stuck in a vacuum cleaner.

“How many heartaches must I stand. Before I find the love to let me live again. Right now the only thing that keeps me hanging on. When I feel my strength, ooh, it's almost gone,” You sang together, your hands were flying around, while keeping one hand on the wheel. The music was loud and the bass was bumping.

Neither of you cared about what you looked like to the outside world, all that mattered was the time you were spending with your best friend. Both trying to heal the pain and scars from the last year.

Jax watched you scowl at him as he adjusted the volume of the music making him laugh. Ever since you were younger he thought your annoyed face was cute and adorable, especially when pouting. “Why did you turn down the radio?”

“Because I know what you are like and I do not want you to kill us before we make Vegas.” he smirked, placing his hand on your thigh once again, tucking his fingers under the material of the jeans causing the coldness of his rings to meet your skin which felt like it was on fire. “It looks like there is a gas station up ahead, so please take your foot off the gas and pull in because I need a piss.”

“Well you did down about three full bottles of gatorade so what do you expect,” you laughed, flicking on the indicator as you slowed the car down to turn off the road. You had to admit you were grateful for the break. You had been driving non stop for the last three hours and you needed to stretch your legs. “So you brought it on yourself.”

“Shut up,” Jax winked before ducking out of the car, after fighting with the seatbelt he had somehow gotten himself tangled up in. Shaking your head at him as he practically ran into the service station in hunt for a toilet.

Some things would never change. Climbing out of the car, you instantly placed a cigarette between your lips, lighting it as you stretched your legs out the best you could. Pulling your sunglasses to the top of your head you quickly checked what the traffic was looking like on the map. You were making good time and so far there had been very little traffic meaning you could put your foot down and would hopefully make up more time as you went on.

Leaning against the front wing of the car, you let your mind wander. There was always something about your relationship with Jax that you didn’t feel with anyone else. Whenever you were together it was like nothing else mattered apart from the two of you. He had been your partner in crime for years now, and there was always that feeling of home with him. He was the person you ran to when shit went south or you were having a bad day.

It always confused you why you only felt the feeling with him when you should have felt that with your husband. He became your ex when the feeling never manifested. But with Jax, god, it felt like he set your world on fire. Unsure whether this was just because you were so close or whether it was something that you were too scared to admit, you just refused to acknowledge it.

“Fuck me,” Jax shouted from across the parking lot, pulling you from your thoughts, looking over at him. He was wearing his signature smirk as he made his way over to you. “Thought I wasn’t gonna make it.”

“Well, I am glad you didn’t piss yourself,” you chuckled, tossing the cigarette on the floor, crushing it into the ground with your trainer. As you got closer to Jax you tossed him the keys, making your way inside to use the toilet before picking up a few more packs of smokes to ensure you had enough for the rest of the journey because you knew how grumpy you both got when you didn’t have nicotine.

The roads passed, the scenery changed, the radio had been turned down and the windows were down so you could hear the sound of your car on the open roads. The roar of the exhaust was a sound you would never tire of hearing. This car was your baby and it would always be. To everyone else it was just a car but to you it was one of your safe spaces. When you were having a bad day you and Jax would hit the road driving with no destination in mind, no music, no talking just the sound of the car filling the silence. And it meant a lot because Jax was the one who bought it for you as a birthday present. Secretly, he had been saving up for it knowing that you had been eyeing it up for a while.

Jax glanced over, watching as your smile grew wider as he put his foot down on the open road. He would never regret buying this car for you. He could still remember the day he drove it over, watching you drool with a hint of jealousy in your eyes. Then he tossed you the keys telling you that it was yours. He had never seen anyone so happy. And he never expected you to tackle him to the ground.

It was now the millionth time that you had heard Easy On me come on the radio but this time was different, this time Jax felt every word and, shocking himself, started belting out the song.

Go easy on me, baby, I was still a child, didn’t get the chance to feel the world around me, I had no time to choose what I chose to do, so go easy on me.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he kept his focus there while he sang, with you joining in, feeling the pain he felt. You had both been through some shit, and not just from the past relationships either. The moment you saw his eyes glaze over with tears he refused to let fall, you placed your hand on his thigh, you gave him a squeeze letting him know you were here, he was safe and you weren't going anywhere.

You were always going to be each other’s anchor, the light in the dark, the shelter from the storm, and nothing or nobody in this world could change that.

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @jomariekirby @i-love-scott-mccall @pascal-reyes @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires @corrigan-eko @stephv213 @krswrites @sassymoxley @sixshooter665 @thexhostess @innerpaperexpertcloud @mgkobsessed @stillbreathin

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Like Chocolate

Calum fell in love like chocolate melts in your pocket--in the time it takes to blink and forget the thing and turn back around. Jada fell in love like the crashing tide of a shore--steady and completely. When Calum goes home with Jada for the holidays, more than just his feelings come to the surface. Five sisters, one love, and plenty of antics, Jada and Calum find out what they’re really made of. 

Shotgun Wedding (ish) x Black!OC

CW: 18+ Content (Smut and Smut adjacent mentions)

_________________________

The drive’s only four hours long to Vegas, hardly long enough for Calum to bat an eye at given the stretches of time he’s spent on a tour bus and for Jada, she does the drive several times a year for the holidays, family or friends weddings, graduations and sometimes just because. It’s not even a blip in a day but somehow the time feels like it could never end. And honestly, time could go on forever between the two of them between the off key singing from Jada and Calum’s constant giggles at the ad libs she adds in just to create more umph for the song. 

There’s one pit stop, at a gas station a little over halfway through their trip. And in the aisle of the little store, Calum’s mesmerized at the way she dances to whatever is playing. He can’t tell if she actually knows the song or not, but it doesn’t seem to matter at all. The worker’s don’t care either about the giggles or Jada’s dancing but Calum loves the way that time hangs behind them, as if it could never catch up to them on this trip. 

“When we get to the house, the first thing Ma’s gonna want to do is go grocery shopping. So we should be able to pick up some booze then too,” Jada states, grabbing the purple bag of Takis from the hook. 

“What does your Mum like again? I know she’s into red wine. But anything else?” Calum asks, walking down the aisle to her. The dancing’s done for now as it’s serious work to figure out the snacks for the last half of the trek. He tucks the two waters into the crook of his elbow, nestling it up against his side. 

“She’s a Hennessey drinker too,” Jada remarks as she pulls the bag of Skittles from the box. “Should I stick with chips or get something sweet too?”

“Chips. If you get something sweet, you’ll ruin your appetite.” Calum takes a glance around, thankful for the trucker hat he’s adorning and the sun glasses. He knows it won’t fully keep him from getting spotted but it’s just enough that he lowers just a bit to kiss Jada’s cheek. The attendant hardly glances up from their phone. 

With a smile resting on her cheeks, Jada glances up to Calum. “You’re right, and I hate that.” 

“Oh give me a break,” he scoffs, but stays at her side as she goes back to contemplating all the choices in front of them. They’re ahead of schedule. Jada had gotten up early and prepped a big breakfast that would hopefully keep them satiated enough. Though, the snacks now might be proving how close to the end that breakfast might be getting. Calum, awake by the smell of pancakes, got up and helped finish the cooking and cleaning process. By the time food was eaten and the kitchen cleaned, it only made sense to just get out on the road earlier than it would’ve been waiting around. 

“Okay, I’m done. I just need my Gatorade.”

Calum dangles the clear bottle with red liquid between a few fingers. “I gotcha babe.”

“Thanks,” she says, turning to follow him towards the register. The person is cordial as they ring up the chips and drinks. 

The afternoon sun is just starting to crest into the sky when they step back outside. Calum’s quick to open Jada’s door--passenger side-- once they get to the truck. Calum insisted on doing the drive to the house and on the way back. But Jada decided that she should drive around the town, and it was less of a decision and more like a mandate if Calum was going to drive them there and back, she didn’t want him to do all the driving. Not like it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Calum, when it was the two of them, would normally drive. Occasionally, Jada drove them back depending on if it was to and from the airport or to a place that she wanted to keep as a surprise. And they weren’t even sure how it became a thing between them that Calum did a lot of the driving. But somehow it had. 

“So we’re either doing hard liquor,” Calum starts as he settles back into the driver seat. The door shuts before he gets the last part of the sentence out, “or we’re doing wine.”

“I mean any alcohol will go over well. But those are her favorites. Paul holds no allegiances.” 

A hum sounds around them as Jada connects her phone back to the aux cord and presses play on the playlist again. Calum hates to walk into anyone’s home empty handed. Especially not her parent’s house where he’s going to be housed for the next week and a half. He’s met her family a handful of times, mostly for family gatherings and holidays. And they’re great people, inviting him with open arms. But he still didn’t want to get too comfortable and have them thinking he didn’t appreciate them for all that they did.

“Should we—” Calum starts as the song fades out and then pauses. If Jada and he go grocery shopping with her mother, he can still get something decent for the family. 

“Should we what, babe?”

Calum shakes his head. “Nah, it’ll just be easier to grab it when your mum goes shopping. But we should tell them, we’re coming in earlier than we originally said.”

“I texted Ma already. Once we get on the road. I think Paul is still out on his shift? I don’t know; there was some vague mention of him still being out.”

Calum nods, reaching over to rest a hand on her thigh. The material of the leggings are soft and he strokes his thumb, almost absent-mindedly. But he doesn't miss the way that Jada presses her legs together just for a moment at the first contact. He glances over and takes in the sight of her dark purple stained lips and the way her hair tumbles down her shoulder in waves. Sure, she was wearing a wig--Jada would be hard pressed to dye her own black tresses platinum blonde--and he knows beneath it is the cap and beneath that are the cornrows she’d had a friend do for her a week ago. But it’s all Jada and that’s all he could ever ask for. 

Time’s left behind again. Calum listens to the tap of her nails on the phone screen as she moves from one playlist to another. He knows because the silence stretches on longer than the time between songs. “Christmas music or more vibes?” Jada asks. 

“Whatever you want,” he returns, squeezing at her inner thigh. 

“Hmm,” she starts. “Maybe we need some villain origin story music right now.”

Calum giggles. “And why might you say that?”

“Because you’ve got your hand in places that are dangerous,” Jada states, leaning forward just a little to adjust the volume on the dial. 

“You weren’t saying that last night,” Calum returns, dropping his voice a little. And there wasn’t much talking if Calum’s going to be honest. He’d gotten in later than he wanted from the studio. And it wasn’t even like a small window of time either. Jada and he agreed to meet at the house at 4 so they could get some last minute things for travel. Calum needed body wash and Jada needed to reup on makeup wipes, brush cleaner, and studier bags for all the hair and makeup things. Tasha, the third oldest, had a choir performance and asked Jada to help her get ready for it for tomorrow. 

Realistically, Jada could’ve done all of that on her own. But Calum wanted to tag along mostly because he had spent too much the rest of the week deep into work so that him being on an extended vacation wouldn’t hold up any mixing. And truthfully, he’d missed being around Jada. She made him feel calm in an instant. Calum was on track to make it out of the studio at 3 and even be home early, until the studio lost power--and it was only for a couple of minutes. But it’d been in the middle of a recording. The system took forever to get back up and by the time Calum was able to lay the track he’d already lost 45 minutes. And right as he thought he could slip out and only be an hour or so late, an accident occured on his way there that set him an additional two and a half hours behind. 

To say that Calum was pissed when he walked through the door of the house was an understatement. If it weren’t for Duke and Jada’s calming presence, Calum was sure he would’ve lost his head and maybe all his shit too. But there was Jada, wrapped up in a blanket at the kitchen bar, and soft music played over the Bluetooth speakers and she’d made his favorite dish of hers. Not his favorite dish of all time—only his mom seemed to be able to craft it just right, though Jada had tried and was getting closer each time she did. And he absolutely wanted nothing more than her at that moment. So much so, that he’d closed the microwave right as she’d attempted to warm up the plate fixed for him and picked Jada amup wordlessly. The kisses on her neck told her everything she needed to know. 

“It was kind of hard to when you put in work like that,” Jada chuckles. “I mean you ate like you were starved and I did have a plate ready for you almost.”

Calum’s laughter is soft as it escapes his chest. But he doesn’t say anything else in response. The conversation dies down, but he keeps his hand resting on her inner thigh, enjoying the pressure when Jada crosses her legs and traps his hand. It’s not tight hardly, as much as it is just the weight of her that grounds Calum. He could easily slip his hand out if he needed it for anything. But the highways are clear for the most part. There are some cars, but nothing that worries him. 

“It’s the second left,” Jada navigates, turning the volume down on the playlist. The last half an hour passed in relative silence. Jada apologized for the lack of entertainment, but with them closing in on the house, she had to make sure her mom was ready and that Tasha sent her the pictures for hair and makeup. And it was to also double check that Tasha hadn’t changed her mind and Jada didn’t need to grab anything else that she might’ve left behind. 

Calum signals for the turn and once the neighborhood opens up in front of them, he reclines back into his seat. “I have no clue why I can’t remember that turn in particular,” he murmurs, cruising to a stop at the four way. “Everything else I’ve got like a piece of cake.”

“All of the houses look almost the same. It’s easy to confuse it,” Jada offers. 

Passing one more block, Calum signals for the right turn. He slows down knowing the third house on the left is all he needs. Two cars are already in the driveway, so he continues down to the next available house, pulls in and then backs out to park on the street in front of the house rather than across the street. From the street, the house does sort of look like all the others. But it’s what’s on the inside. Calum can almost hear the music from one of the bedroom’s blasting even from inside the silent truck. The TV in the living room most certainly would be on too. Jada’s childhood home was always alive in ways that Calum missed from his own childhood, though he hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea of five children. But the four bedroom house seemed to still be standing. 

With their bags, for personal stuff, makeup, and Christmas presents, they climb up the driveway and Jada knocks. “I’m too lazy to find my key right now,” she laughs and Calum shakes his head. And it was probably less laziness as it hinged more on the fact that not only across her body were her packed bags and in one hand she had the rolling hair and makeup case, but because he was also carrying one of the two Christmas present bags. Finding keys in this mess was a priority zero at the moment. 

The door swings open soon after, Vicky, the youngest of the bunch greeting them. “Jada! Hi Calum!” she grins, stepping to the side. “Ma! Jada and Calum are here!”

“My God, girl,” Jada giggles stepping into the house. “You gon’ be taller than me if you don’t stop growing.” Jada, standing at 5’8, was not an easy one to surpass, but Vicky definitely looked like she was giving Jada a run for her money. Calum would guess she was nearby 5’6 and only at 12–which was the crazy part. 

The two of them hug each other as much as possible and Jada shuffles further into the house. Vicky greets Calum with a side hug. It’s not too much longer before Tasha, Serenity, and Destini come barreling down the stairs of the house. The Christmas presents are at least slipped under the tree, freeing up enough hands for proper greetings. 

Jada’s engulfed in hugs. The mass of girls sway for a little bit and from the kitchen, Jada’s mother, Roslyn, comes, arms stretched out to join in on the reunion. It’s a joyous sound that fills the house and Calum grins watching them. It’s always like this--as if they hadn’t seen each other in years rather than months. But it always warms his heart.

Calum knows better than to interrupt this moment, so he hangs back making sure the door is fully closed and locked behind him and slips out of his shoes before proceeding further into the house. “Calum!” Roslyn shuffles over to him a big hug too. “I’m glad you could come too!”

“Thanks so much for having me, Roslyn. It means a lot,” he returns, wrapping one arm around her. 

“Of course, of course!” They release each other and Roslyn smiles brightly as ever. And it’s easy to see where Jada gets her smile from. “The drive wasn’t too long now was it?”

“No, traffic was good to us today.” Thankfully it was today. If truth be told, Calum’s glad he got caught with the accident yesterday rather than today. A nightmare of a situation if he ever had to conjure such a thing to life. 

“Good. I swear sometimes getting anywhere in this city is almost like a nightmare. But I’m sure you know all about that with LA traffic.”

“The most nightmares of all nightmares,” Calum returns with a small laugh. By this time the huddle of girls has separated a little and the rest of Jada’s sisters greet Calum as well, side hugs mostly but with lots of grins. 

“Where’s Paul?” Jada asks. 

“Work still. I’m sure it’s nothing too bad,” Rosyln returns. Twenty plus years he’s served and Roslyn only had hope to cling to in the end. “Alright, we got a lot to get at the store. So whoever wants to join, get ready now and we’ll meet back in half an hour,” Roslyn tells the group. “And that way y’all two can get settled a little bit too if y’all want to join.”

“Ma, of course we’re coming with you. You go overboard if no one’s there to stop you,” Jada returns but makes sure to seal the sentiment with a kiss to her mother’s cheek. Jada leads the way up the stairs to her old room--the only thing that had changed was the paint color since she’d moved to LA.

“We still love you though, Ma,” Serenity, the second oldest, says in addition to Jada’s comment behind Jada and Calum. 

The stairs creak just a little as they climb but inside the room, they drop their bags down either along the wall of the closet or on the bed itself. Some of her dance trophies are still lining the walls and Calum finds himself imagining what Jada might’ve been like back in high school, what his life could’ve looked like if she was there then. But more than anything, he’s just glad she’s here now. Resting one knee on the bed, Calum stretches his arm out across to her. Jada looks up, a small hum falling from her throat to let Calum know he’s caught her attention. 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

Her smile softens, eyes oozing nearly, and her whole face lights up when she speaks. “I love you.” 

Jada carefully pulls the sweatshirt off and swaps it for a light cardigan before fishing out her wallet and keys. It’s strange to be home. And maybe it was really only strange in the sense that in some ways, she felt--in addition to all the love that was here--she was still playing a role. As the eldest out of the five of them, Jada always sort of felt like she was setting an example. By the time Serenity was born, Jada was already nine. Her mom, and Paul--her stepdad but all her sister’s biological father--relied on her in ways at the time she was proud to fulfill but she could see in reflection that they’d used her in ways that made her feel like a third parent. And sure, Jada could stay mad at them, but more now with the distance did Jada realize how much coming home felt like stepping back into that role. 

But Jada thinks about seeing Serenity, Tasha, Destini, and Vicky and the way that it’s always been them against the world. That no matter how shitty it got, they always had each other and it reminded Jada that she was never alone in this world. That even though it took her a whole ten years to unlearn all the motherly tendencies she’d accumulated, her sisters would always be her biggest supporters. 

From the cracked door, both Calum and Jada hear another booming voice. “I leave for the night shift and then I come back to see some heavy rollers,” Paul teases. “Jada and Calum made it okay, I take it?”

With a snicker to each other, Jada shakes her head. Paul’s always been a jokester, but he treated her nicely and it was all Jada could ask for really after so many years with just her and her mother sticking it out together. While he could never truly fill the wounds Jada felt about not having her biological father in her life, Paul did what he could. He was there for the dance competitions, first boyfriends and girlfriends, heartache. He knew he couldn’t do it all, but having someone like Paul was just what Jada needed. 

“Only heavy roller I know is you, Paul,” Jada bellows, walking out of the room. Calum smiles watching her. He follows behind, after getting his phone plugged into the charger. They descend back down the stairs and Paul turns in the dining table chair, still in his uniform. The twenty plus years as a paramedic hadn’t creased his face just yet either, not as he grins spotting Jada. 

She embraces him while he stays seated, dropping a kiss to the top of his bald head. “That’s one hell of a night shift,” Jada notes. 

“Duty calls. Someone’s gotta keep an eye out. Besides, I worked this shift and I was able to get off tomorrow for Tasha.”

“So I’ll be sure to make every bit of noise I can after we get back.”

Paul laughs, “It’s a good thing I sleep like the dead.” When Calum peaks into his peripheral vision, Paul waves him in closer. “How’s it hanging, Calum?”

“Can’t complain,” is Calum’s return. 

“Anything you want to add to the grocery list?” Roslyn asks, sliding it in front of Paul. “Rest of us are going in a few.”

“Hey, Calum, can you help me with something?” 

Calum looks up at the sound of name and finds Destini at the foot of the stairs. He nods, stepping towards her. “What’s up? Something too high up?”

Destini is silent as she glances back to Jada, Roslyn, and Paul. She ascends the stairs and Calum follows, unsure of what is going on, but doesn’t ask for more details just yet. They get upstairs and Calum still follows. They pass Jada’s old room and continue until he sees all her sisters tucked away in the room Destini and Vicky share. 

“Oh, uh, is this where you all tell me you secretly hate me?” Calum jokes. 

Serenity laughs. “If we hated you, you’d know.”

“We need your help with someone for Jada though,” Tasha explains. 

Calun nods as he speaks, “Count me in, whatever it is.”

“Well that was easy,” Vicky teases. 

Calum tries to keep the blush from his cheeks, and wants so desperately to keep his cool. But it’s impossible when it involves Jada. “Look at him!” Serenity hollers. “You’re blushing, Calum.” 

“By God, you’re hollering is going to ruin this whole surprise, Serenity,” Tasha huffs, lightly smacking her older sister on her arm. “Keep it down.”

“What are you planning?” Calum asks, knowing there’s nothing else to say to divert the attention. 

“Ma wants to do this big thing for all us being in town, make a really big dinner. But she doesn’t want Jada to know she’s doing that. So we need to distract Jada during the grocery shopping a little and then on Sunday too.”

He thinks he can do that. Jada had a few places that she liked to frequent when she came home. Sunday’s weren’t an ideal day to go out bar hopping but with Christmas happening on a Saturday, he thinks he can distract her with a lunch date instead. But if all her sisters stay, he wonders if it would raise any suspicions.  “How long do y’all need her out of the house on Sunday?”

“If me and Tasha can stay behind, a few hours,” Serenity answers. 

He turns his attention away from Serenity just for a brief moment. “Destini and Vicky, I’m going to need you two for Sunday. Jada talks about wanting to take you two out on her visit, so I think Sunday might be the day.”

The two youngest nod eagerly. “You can count me in,” Destini tacks on. Vicky shrugs, but nods her head too, the beads on the ends of her braids clicking with the action. 

“Let’s aim for as close as 10 as we can get and then we’ll try to be back around 4,” Calum looks to Serenity and Tasha. 

“Think we can do it?” Tasha asks. 

“Make it 5 and you’ve got a deal,” Serenity bargains. She’s mostly thinking about the amount of baking they have to do. 

“You drive a hard bargain, but deal,” Calum concedes. He’s not quite sure how he can keep Jada out that long without making it look suspicious, but he’s hoping Destini and Vicky can help with that. He knows getting brunch or lunch for the group will take a decent amount of time. But not even Jada has the stamina for a lot of shopping. However, he’s praying because Destini and Vicky tag along that they can help lengthen out of the time. Possibly even taking them out for manicures or pedicures. 

Tasha turns to Destini and Vicky, “Y’all can’t say anything when you’re out with them Sunday. I mean, not a word.”

Destini rolls her eyes. “Do you know which sister you’re talking to? I was told I didn’t talk unless someone spoke to me until kindergarten. I think I can keep a secret.”

Serenity giggles and looks up to Calum. “Keep close to Vicky, she can go a mile a minute.”

“I-I am right here, aren’t I?” Vicky asks, glancing around the room as if someone outside the five of them will answer. “Or am I just invisible?”

“You are right here and that’s exactly why we’re saying this,” Tasha answers. “But seriously Vicky you cannot spill the beans on this. Pinky promise me.” Tasha holds out her pinky. Her nails in some ways mirror Jada’s---red for the holidays, but aren’t as long. 

Vicky sighs and wraps her pinky around. “I promise.”

“Alright now. Finish getting ready so we can go. Ma’s going to come bellowing in a minute.”

“Thanks for helping us, Calum. We appreciate it,” Serenity states as he, Serenity, and Tasha step out of the room. 

“Of course. Happy to help,” he returns. 

Serenity and Tasha head off towards their room. Serenity’s attending a local college, but stays home and Tasha’s gearing up to finish her college applications here soon--or that’s what Jada reported to Calum. She’s looking for things in state, but a little bit out of the area. From what Calum’s gathered, there might be one or two out of state options, but he’s not entirely sure. He’ll have to ask. The stairs creak again and he’s quick to duck back into Jada’s room, trying to settle onto the edge of the bed like he’d been there the entire time. 

He listens to the footsteps but they go to the opposite end of the hallway and he exhales, knowing for at least the moment, he’s spared. He checks his text messages and nothing’s terribly pressing. Another set of footsteps can be heard and this time, they do lead right into the room. Jada sits on the edge of the bed, right next to Calum, resting her temple on his shoulder. “Where you disappear to?”

“Destini just needed help getting something from a shelf. Then I got distracted,” Calum chuckles, holding up his phone to show him just browsing Instagram. Jada stretches up to kiss his jaw. “Oh, and do you sister-nap Destini and Vicky on Sunday for the day? Brunch maybe and depending on what they get for Christmas, I’m going to assume shopping is also on the agenda. We can take them out and give Roslyn and Paul some quiet.”

“Oh, a man after my own heart via my sisters. Yeah, we can take them out. Destini’s a picky eater so we’re going to need to make sure wherever we go is good with her.”

“Food allergies?”

“No, she’s just picky. And she’s big on textures. If it’s slimy, she won’t do it. Imagine us trying to have a fish fry. She won’t do fried okra or fish. She’s kinda okay with crab legs. And Lord have mercy if you try to fix her a burger as a substitute with a tomato on it.”

“So we won’t go to a seafood place and no tomatoes. Got it.”

When they get rounded up, Roslyn takes Destini and Vicky in her car. Tasha tags along with Serenity and Calum and Jada bring up the rear. Jada pauses at the driver side door, holding her hand out. Calum sighs, but drops the keys into her palm. “I’m still getting the door for you,” he states. 

“I’d expect nothing from my Prince Charming.” 

The drive’s easy, though there’s a bit of a congestion when they go to turn up into the parking lot of the grocery store. As Calum steps out of the passenger side door, Serenity and Tasha both pass him a look from outside their car. He nods--game time for phase one. “Ma, can we get lemon cake and icing?” Destini asks. 

“Oh, yes!” Jada tacks on. It’s her favorite and though she definitely wasn’t expecting any cakes at Christmas, she won’t pass up on the opportunity to aid Destini’s agenda. 

Roslyn, grabbing a basket, hums. “We’ll see.”

“Ma’s favorite phrase,” Jada chuckles. Calum slides up next to her, threading his fingers through hers. Like they normally do, because Calum knows if he gets too far from her, be it either him lingering to read something or getting distracted in any other right, Jada will come searching or wiggle her fingers to catch his attention. It’s a silent signal, the wiggle of her fingers. One that Calum when he first saw it, had no clue what it meant. But when he didn’t respond, either by catching up or by reaching out, Jada paused, took a step back and grabbed his hand. She said nothing else, but paused with him in his attempt to decide between the original or chocolate flavor of graham crackers. 

But now, Calum’s trying to figure out how he can distract her just enough in this store. What possibly could he get them into now that wouldn’t seem too much like he was trying too hard? The first and most obvious course of distraction is the alcohol. But he can’t come across as too eager. “Should we get a second basket?” Calum asks. 

“Sure, just in case we want anything extra too,” Jada agrees and then grabs one just before they fully pass the entrance. 

Calum wiggles his fingers and she looks at him, a bit of a smile gracing her lips but her eyes say it all, I can push a cart. But she steers it in his direction. “Dying to drive something, huh?”

“It means you go at my pace and I don’t get the silent wiggle.”

“Grocery trips are precise missions,” Jada giggles. “We get in, we get out.”

“And you’re about to learn why we’ve all adopted that mindset,” Serenity teases, turning to them. Destini and Vicky have settled in at either side of Roslyn, and are already tapping on her hips to get her attention at the bright displays. 

“You and Tasha were just as bad,” Jada returns, “so I don’t know why you actin’ like you a saint now.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve given my life over to Christ,” Serenity states though she laughs as she says it. With Roslyn leading the way and Serenity and Tasha behind, Calum for a moment misses the trips to the grocery store with his own family. He hated them at the time. It felt like it always took ages with his mother carefully inspecting everything she put into the cart. But now, he gets it. It becomes a bit of a ritual, and even though most of the trips annoyed him, there was always a piece of his heart that enjoyed when he and his mother would have silly debates in the produce section or when she’d entrust him to pick out the pasta for the house. 

As the entire group dives deeper into the store, Calum notices the glances from Tasha and he knows it’s time to go in for his first move. With the wine aisle in front of them, Calum pushes the cart forwards, making sure to dodge Vicky as she hops to the song playing overhead. “We’re going to need a definitive answer on alcohol,” Calum states. 

Jada gazes just at the length of the aisle and knows for certain it’s going to be a tough call. Calum lets her take the lead and isn’t surprised when champagne is the first added to the cart. 

“For your mum, not you,” he teases. 

“Hey, hey, look. It’s for everyone,” she grins in return. “I don’t know if I should do red wine or rosé. But Ma does love a good red. Why couldn’t I have been a wine lover? Ya know, something classy. But nah, instead I’m out here sipping whiskey straight.”

“You say that like you didn’t just put champagne in the cart.”

Jada waves him off, but spies a bottle of Pinot Noir that looks promising. As she reads over the label, Calum spies some beer. “Is Paul a beer guy?”

Jada hums. “Well, yes and no. It’s not his favorite, but he’ll have one every now and then. He’d appreciate it if you bought some though. You’ve got good taste in beer so I feel like you couldn’t miss.”

“But you hate every beer I’ve given you. And it’s a good thing Ash isn’t here. He riots at my beer selection.”

“Will you hate me if I do both?” Jada returns. 

Calum, having been facing the beer selections, turns to look to Jada. “A rosé and a red?”

“Yeah.”

Serenity is twenty-one, so Calum’s sure someone will definitely polish the bottles off over the course of the week. “Nah, might as well.”

Once Jada places the two bottles into the cart, Calum softly wraps his hand around her waist. Jada leans into the touch. They stand side to side, Jada facing one section of the aisle, Calum facing the other, but still connected. And it’s nice, like this, just in the moment to lean into Calum and catch the familiar musk of his faded cologne and days old nicotine still clinging to the fabric of the green flannel. It’s these moments that mean a lot to Jada, when the world can exist around them, but they are safe inside a bubble. Jada knows it’s not a real bubble, anyone turning the corner could spot them. Calum left the hat behind, though he had tied up his hair into a little bun in the back. But he’s Calum; visible in ways that Jada couldn’t quite comprehend, but also understood so deeply in her bones. 

For either one of them was no escaping who they were—her Black and Calum Indigenous. And because of that they constantly felt exposed. While Jada knew and understood just how they were hypervisible, she couldn’t understand the fame. Not in a way that she couldn’t understand how it worked, but more like she couldn’t understand what hypervisibility meant because of fame. The way that Calum, whenever she mentioned going out and doing things, always took a bit of a deep breath and reached for a hat. It was a shield. Not that it ever hid him completely, but it hid him enough. 

She wonders if how she felt about not wearing rings and necklaces is how Calum felt without his hat. Knowing that she wasn’t actually naked without it, but with it feeling complete. And maybe that was inaccurate as well.She wore jewelry like a blanket, a thing to provide comfort and Calum wore his hats like armor, like a shield. But right now, that shield has become each other. Her face pressing into his chest and him squeezing at her waist has given them the illusion of being hidden away. 

“I need your help with beer, love.”

“And you trust me why?”

“Because I trust you with everything,” Calum returns. And he means it. It’s not even just being there, or reminding him of the little things. But he trusts her to fucking care, even if it’s just him trying to decide if he should splurge on the chocolate flavor of graham crackers or the extra donut from their favorite bakery. She cares with everything in her about him and even though it should worry him, like how could someone care that much about him? He’s so glad someone does. And he’s happy it’s her. 

“Do not go sappy on me in this grocery store. Do not,” Jada warns but pushes up and turns a little. She keeps one hand on the basket and Calum snugly wraps his arm around her waist. 

“Okay, no sap. Beer instead.”

By the time Calum and Jada settle on a case of beer, her family’s long gone. He heard them for the first few minutes of their departure, lingering on a neighboring aisle. But now he can’t hear them. So they wind up a few aisles with no luck before walking along the main straights. Every so often, Jada stops, tugging on Calum’s hand to show him something. Most of the time it’s something intriguing like a new flavor of chips or looking down at the candy aisle. He gives in and adds a couple things of sweets into the cart but gives her a very pointed warning, that she wouldn’t be risking cavities on this trip. Jada’s sweet tooth is unmatched and if left unchecked will cause more problems than it already had. 

Calum’s distraction seems to work well enough because when they reconvene with the rest of her family, it looks like most of the shopping is nearly done, if not done.  “We got the lemon cake!” Vicky cheers, holding onto the box mix. 

______________________________________________

“Tasha, if you don’t--” Jada huffs, pulling the eyeliner away from her face. 

“It’s just weird, I’m sorry!”

Calum hands over the small stack of folded up printer paper to Jada just as she starts to reach for it. She’d prepped it, along with the rest of the array, eyeshadow, blush, foundations, primers, brow pencils, concealer--damn near everything covers every inch of the dining room table. “Thanks, babe.” She fans at Tasha’s face to keep the tears from running and ruining anything. 

“You’re welcome,” he returns and then glances back down at his phone after it buzzes. It’s a text in the groupchat, but it’s not pressing. So he brings his gaze back up to Jada, still fanning over Tasha’s face. The choir’s performance isn’t for another couple hours, but they started the hair and makeup adventure early in the day to make sure that Tasha had plenty of time to still get dressed and get to the school early. 

“It’s always my waterline,” Tasha mutters. 

Jada’s careful as she goes back in to finish. And Calum watches the way she buffs brushes and taps excess powder. It’s a dance or at least that’s the way he sees it, as she blends out colors or gently flicks her wrist to get the stroke of the eyebrow shape just right. He doesn’t hear the music or the timing, but Jada does. 

“Can I see?” Tasha asks once the last bit of the setting spray settles into her skin. 

“Not until your hair is done,” is Jada’s quick reply as she starts pulling the duck clips holding the curls in place. Hair tumbles down and Jada’s quick to separate and fluff as necessary. 

Tasha’s bangs fall just over one eye, but the curls hang loosely on her pressed hair. Destini, who ventures pass the dining room table on her way to get a snack, stops for a second. “Well, well, well,” she teases, a wide grin on her face, hands settling onto her waist. 

“Destini, keep on,” Tasha returns with a laugh. 

“You look good, sis!”

Satisfied with the lay of the last curl and pinning the last star shaped hair accessory into place, Jada digs up the mirror buried under pins and brushes. “What do you think?” she asks. 

There’s a beat and Calum watches as Tasha’s stunned expression turns into a grin, and she squeals. “Oh my god!” She spins around, wrapping Jada up in a hug. “Thank you!”

“Of course. Anytime,” Jada replies softly. 

“Ma! Look!” Tasha shouts up the steps. 

Calum stands from his seat at the table. “She looks amazing.”

“I can do a little something something,” Jada returns. The two of them are silent as they clean. Calum moves the dirty makeup brushes off the side while Jada wraps up the cords to the straightener and curling iron. And it’s somehow harmonious as they slide past each other around the dining room table. 

“I’m holding three palettes and I can’t seem to find where your bag went,” Calum chuckles. And when he turns to the right, he spots Vicky with the bag in her lap. “I would ask what you’re doing, Vicky, but I have a feeling I already know.” She grins. But allows him to place the palettes into the bag. The rest of the clean-up is quick and relatively painless. 

“Ma! Dad! I’m dropping Tasha off to the school early. I’ll be back soon.” It’s Serenity and just beneath it he can hear Jada, Destini, and Vicky talking too. Calum hadn’t even heard Paul today, though he can’t be faulted there was plenty of noise from the girls. And though at moments, Calum’s not sure how anyone can survive living with this many siblings, part of him wants it. A big family--at least in theory. In practice, he’s sure he’ll really only want two and maybe three kids. 

“Let’s get those outfits on, ladies,” Jada states cutting above the internal hum. Destini and Vicky walk in front of her, headed to the stairs and Calum watches her go. Knowing she’ll undoubtedly get sucked into helping them finalize their outfits. Destini won’t have much to change. But Vicky will have a thousand options to consider.

Is this what he could potentially be looking forward to? A house, maybe not as full as this one, with kids of his own, in line with Jada as they get ready for something or another and Calum has helped press and pin hair or taken twists down to redo them without the frizz. And he knows that one of them should get ready first to help entertain the lot while the other is the last one to get ready. 

“You look starstruck there, Calum. And I know I’m a cool man, myself, but you’re the rockstar,” Paul teases, stopping just a couple feet in front of Calum. 

“Oh, um, just thinking,” Calum returns. But there's a knowing smile as Paul finishes his venture to the kitchen. 

Right as Calum heads up the steps to get ready for the performance himself--requested from Jada that he could not show up in a t-shirt and flannel, though it’s everything he wants to show up in--, Destini and Vicky stand right outside their door. Vicky in a dress, green and silver for the festivities and Destini in dress pants and a glittery blue blouse. “Lookin’ good, ladies,” he smiles at them. 

“Keep him around. I like him,” Vicky states to Jada. 

“The current plan is to do just that. Alright, I’ll be down in 30. Please keep all shirts, skirts, or your bottoms of choice clean,” Jada states, watching the duo bounce downstairs. When she glances up to Calum, she notices the half smirk on his face. And it’s not butterflies that light her stomach--not a nervousness by the look. It’s something more like a warmth--feeling of being wrapped up in a blanket on a cold night. She’s happy. As plain and as simple as that. She’s happy with Calum. She can imagine a whole life with him--three kids, two dogs, baking snickerdoodles for the school’s bake sale and fighting with another mother over who’s recipe is better. 

And sure it all sounds silly in some ways. She’s 28, settling into her career in SEO marketing--something she had mostly fallen into after graduating with her Bachelor’s degree and following the start-up companies littering the LA area. She was late to the college game after working 6 years in retail in the surrounding area to help with finances at home and saving up for college in the first part. There was nothing glamorous about that life. She would be the first to admit that, but that didn’t stop her from desiring it. And there was nothing right now that was stopping her from desiring it with Calum either. 

“Are you sure I can’t wear a t-shirt?” Calum asks. It’s mostly in jest. He knows her family takes these events seriously and he would never be the one to disgrace such a tradition. But he also likes to see Jada sweat. 

“Calum, I swear. I ain’t asking you to put on a suit. But if you ruin Tasha’s pictures in her senior year performance, she will curse you. And I won’t have much of a mind to stop her.”

He wraps Jada into a hug, encasing her waist with his arms. “I won’t dare ruin her photos. I just like to see your feathers ruffled.”

It’s a huff and an eye roll that returns his comments, but when Calum goes in for a kiss, Jada doesn’t reject him. “Besides,” Calum adds in a whisper, lips brushing over hers. “I specifically brought those plaid pants you love.”

“You’re killing me,” she laughs in an exhale, flashing back to their first meeting. 

Jada’s college career wasn’t particularly glamorous as she spent a lot of time in class, studying, or working. And over the four year stretch, she worked as a bartender at a few clubs. One in particular was high end, but owned by the same management as the two other ones she’d worked at previously. The owners did crawls of their own bars to make sure it was all proper but on one such visit, the owners came on a night that Jada was working. They’d ask the manager about her and wanted her to work a few private events at the higher end bar. It was double pay and Jada didn’t have enough time to blink before she was saying yes.

It just so happened that one of the private events she agreed to work was a release party for Calum and the rest of the band. Given the crowd, Jada wasn’t trying to intercept who’s album was releasing, she only needed to serve drinks and keep any rowdy participants in line. But it had seemed that even with her head down attitude to work, she’d still managed to catch the attention of someone. She noticed something was happening, when Calum--who was nameless at the time besides the affectionate Plaid Pants that she and a couple other bartenders had labeled him as--continued to come by the bar. He’d order something occasionally, but other times he’d just pass by, as if trying to signal something. But it clearly wasn’t landing until he leaned into the bar and introduced himself to Jada. 

Jada opens her eyes, to find Calum still embracing her, nose gently bumping over hers. “But thank you, I think I’d be happy to be murdered by such an item of clothing on your ass.” They share another kiss, mostly gentle if the hands squeezing at waists aren’t counted. The touches give away everything that the kiss doesn’t--a deeper desire to feel flesh of each other, but knowing right now might not be the best time to give in to such longing. 

Jada places her hands on Calum’s chest, feeling his hands sliding to her ass. “You are dangerous, but we can’t be late.”

With a heavy exhale, Calum rests his forehead against hers. “Right, right. But I wish we could be.”

“I am well aware of how much you wish that,” Jada teases, but pushes her hips into his crotch with a wink. The erection is beyond evident and Calum can only laugh as she walks backwards into the bedroom. “And you’re going to hate the dress I brought with me for tonight.”

Calum groans as he steps through the threshold, closing the door softly behind him. He doesn’t even want to attempt to conjure up any idea of what she’s brought because he knows his imagination won’t do her any justice. “At least tell me there’s some imagination to be spared by the dress.”

“There’s a little bit. There’s a little bit, love.”

“You’re the one asking for trouble,” Calum returns as he finds his black t-shirt. Technically, it violates the rule Jada made but he knows it’ll work well enough especially when he adds the chain. 

“I’m always asking for trouble.” The sentence is punctuated by a slap to his ass. Still bent over to grab something from his bag, he watches Jada shuffle to her side of the room. 

“You better be glad I like it, darlin’.” 

But what he loves even more is when he turns to the sound of his name and Jada’s holding her hair out of the way for him to zip up the dress. It’s navy blue with dots of silver in it--almost like stars or a galaxy splattered all over the dress. He finishes getting his bracelet hooked around his wrist and drags the pads of his fingers over her spine. She forfeited a bra so the entire area is exposed to him and it’s all too enticing to press into her skin. 

“That is not my zipper,” she laughs, but a bit of a shudder stutters her words. 

Calum obeys the original command, and drags the zipper up, encasing her fully into the garment. Her expressed gratitude is soft, and maybe it’s just the fact that Calum’s so enwrapped watching her walk over to the jewelry she laid out early and the way her hips stretch out the material of the dress. It’s just short enough that her walk hikes it up, but long enough that even it still keeps just enough hidden away. They can’t be late, but he really, really would love to push the boundaries on how late they actually can be. He knows he promised Tasha he wouldn’t miss a second and that’s the only thread keeping him back. 

“I can feel you staring,” Jada laughs, both earrings hooked into the pierced hole. 

“Then you also can feel what else I wish I could do right now.”

“I know, I know.” As she says it, she feels his presence closing in. There’s no mirror, but she knows the gaze. The way his eyes are casted downwards, the lick of his lips, the hitch in his breath. And when hands slide across her waist and kisses decorate her neck, Jada knows. She knows just how much she wants to give into him and how much he wants to give into her. So she lets him, resting backward into his chest and bringing an arm up to hold onto his neck, Jada sighs into the kisses he paints into her skin. 

Calum inhales deeply as the perfume invades his nostrils. “Can we spare five minutes?”

“If I spare you five, we’re going to need twenty.”

His hum is interrupted by a small tuft of laughter. “True.” Five minutes isn’t nearly enough time for what he wants to do to her. But he trails a hand up, over the contour of her breast and lightly holds onto her throat. There’s no real pressure, just a resting spot for him and then he continues up after a beat to her jaw to tilt her head back even more. 

Her lashes look too long to be real in the moment before she blinks open her eyes and dark brown irises are staring back up at him. “Love you,” she whispers. 

“I love you,” Calum exhales. He loves her with more than exists in the tips of his fingers as a summation of the great surface area of every ounce of his being. He loves her like chocolate melts in a pocket. It’s slow at first. You think you’re going to keep an eye on it, that you know just how fast it can melt and you’ll catch it. But the truth of the matter is that it sneaks up. You’ll wander off to do something else and then by the time you come back to it, it’s everywhere. Soaked into every fiber of whatever clothing it was left in. 

And that’s how he fell in love with her--putting her just in one corner of his life, believing that he could contain her to that, that he wouldn’t let his defense down and she’d get in, but when he turned away and turned back, she was everywhere. Jada was every fucking where, in the fabric of his lyrics and book recommendations. She was in his cabinets separating glasses from mungs from cups and in the sticky notes she left on his fridge or on the bathroom mirror. Jada was in his fucking socks because sometimes, when Calum found a hole wearing in a beloved pair that he refused to throw away until they became unsalvagable, she’d stitch different shapes to fix the holes. The action rendered everything keepable--he told himself he’d stash them all into a box and show their kids one day. Tell them not to throw out anything their mother patched for them because they’d miss it when it was gone. 

“Everything okay, love?” Jada’s quick to spin in the embrace. Her hands tenderly cup his cheeks. 

And it’s only then that Calum can register the tears that have started to form. He nods, a bit of smile forming on his face. “I’m okay. Sorry.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

Her eyebrow arches. A silent question that asks him not to bullshit her. Because it’s everything like Calum to be swimming in emotion and never articulate it in the midst of the wave--only after. And while she couldn’t always fault the action, it still worried her. Still made her feel shut out sometimes. Calum holds her cheeks in return, careful just in case she’s put on any makeup. 

“I am not hiding anything, Jada. I swear it.” And he pauses. “Well, not anything detrimental.”

That’s all she’s going to get. For right now at least. So she nods, stretching just a little to kiss him. Her thumbs are quick to rub over his lips though. “So I don’t leave gloss behind.”

“If it’s the one with vitamin E, you might as well leave it. I love that stuff.”

“I’ll bring it with me just in case,” she teases. 

As Calum and Jada descend the stairs, dressed, Paul’s already at the foot of the stairs. “I was just about to call for y’all.”

“My zipper was being finicky,” Jada lies and kisses his cheek once she’s on level ground. “As the eldest, I have to be snatched for the gods and for Tasha’s sake.”

Paul chuckles. “She’d make sure of it.” Roslyn, Paul, Destini, and Vicky ride in one car. Serenity takes hers and Jada drives Calum’s vehicle. Though he again opens the door for her. 

The school looks less like a school than Calum could ever conjure the image of one to look like. But the parking lot appears to be packed and growing. It’s his first time seeing Tasha perform. 2018’s Christmas was still too early to claim as a Christmas as a couple. But 2019 was more solid, even with the challenges. Jada had plans to see her family and Calum had made plans well in advance to as well, so they agreed they’d go to the respective homes. But he heard about the way the choir was the crowd drawer. From what he can see right now, as they walk up to the doors, Jada had not lied about it being a large crowd. 

Outside the auditorium, Calum spots tables selling bouquets. “At intermission, remind me to get Tasha a bouquet,” he whispers to Jada. 

She pauses in her stride, forcing Calum to stop too as he’s holding onto her hand. “They sell fast. C’mon.” He nods and Jada calls for Destini to hold two seats for them.

 The line’s long. It’s clear the entire town adores this performance and makes sure that they are certain to witness it. In the line, he can hear an elderly couple talking about how they refuse to miss a year of the Christmas performance. Calum’s worried they’re going to miss Tasha’s opening solo--his promise. And now he’s glad Jada kept firm about if she granted him the five, it would be the world’s largest fuck up.

 They manage to secure a big and bright bouquet and have to scurry back inside. A tad more difficult thanks to the skinny heel of Jada’s pumps, but not impossible due the nights she spent walking the strip. The lights dim just as Paul’s hand is waving for them. Thankfully, their seats are right near the end and they only have to scoot by a couple. Calum takes the end seat next to the couple. After the director of the program introduces the schedule and provides a little bit of background, the curtain lifts and in front of the risers is Tasha. Jada squeezes his knee and he kisses the top of her head. 

Tasha’s solo nearly brings the house down. Her ending note rings out around them and for a few seconds, Calum can do nothing but sit stunned. The cheer erupts, people standing around him and he’s careful of the bouquet to stand as well and cheer along with them. “You did not tell me your sister could sing like that,” Calum says to Jada close to her ear. 

“The girls’ got lungs enough to come for your money, Hood.”

“And she can have it,” Calum laughs. 

The younger singers perform immediately after. Different reindeer antler styles decorate their heads, shy as they go, but endearing all the same. Calum clutches his chest after they leave the stage and Jada laughs, leaning into his arm. “They were so cute!” he whispers. 

“Very cute. My baby fever just spiked.”

The songs continue on, ones about Rudoloph and Sleigh Rides, all the way to ones about wishing for snow. As the closing performance comes to an end, the auditorium roars with their applause. The walls echo and bounce back every whistle and yawp sent its way. The sound is infectious, finding its way deep into their chest and shaking their bones. But once the curtains close, Jada spins to Calum. “Mission: get a great spot for photos. You’re the front man.”

“I am not ready for such responsibility,” Calum returns, but shuffles out behind the couple at the end. 

“Give me the bouquet. Hold my empty hand. Grab Vicky’s hand, and stay agile. It’s going to get rough.” Calum steps behind once in the aisle and hands over the bouquet. Though he’s yet to see this side of their family outings, he’s not shocked at the system. When someone reaches for his left hand, he glances back to see Vicky and she’s already reaching back for Destini’s. Oh, this is a tried and true system, he gathers. Jada grasps his right hand and all he can do is keep up. There’s no time for questions. 

They weave through the huddled mass of other families and visitors. A few quiet ‘excuse me’s get thrown out. But for the most part, the second Jada spies a pocket, she goes for it and the rest of them slip through with shy smiles as they go. Jada’s surveying as she walks, head glancing left and right. But soon they break free of the auditorium and into the hallway. “Right,” Jada calls back and Calum starts to the right unsure of what he’s supposed to do with that information. 

They veer to the side and once Jada’s satisfied with the pocket, she stops. “Who’s got their phone?” Jada asks. Her’s is in her purse, but she’s got hands full. 

Roslyn pulls up the rear and waves her phone. “Where are we?”

“Next to the bouquet stand. Close to the…” Jada pauses, looking over Calum’s shoulder, easy to do with her heels. “Men’s bathroom.”

“Got it.”

“That was the most tactical exit, I’ve ever seen,” Calum jokes. “And I’ve been escorted through festivals.”

“Nothing like a Miller exit,” Vicky teases. “We got it down to a science.”

“You speak like you have experience.’

“I’ve led a Miller exit once or twice in my short life,” she boasts. 

“Literally twice,” Destini tacks on. 

“You’ve only done three,” is Vicky’s rebuttal.

“And soon both of you will have so many you won’t be able to count,” Paul cuts in. “Now, let’s take a 5.” Both girls nod and Calum would ask what it means to take five, but it’s interrupted by the gushing of Roslyn. Calum spins to find Tasha walking up to them. Her grin is wide and she gives the one friend she’s walking with one last hug before scurrying up to the group. Her heels click with the movement. 

Roslyn gets to her first, a giant hug encasing her daughter. “You did so good, baby!” 

The rest of the family gets hugs in first and when she looks up to ask Calum a question about her performance, a giant bouquet of red roses stares up at her. “OH. Are-are these for me?”

Calum nods, holding them out for her. “Yeah, they are. You were fucking incredible.”

“Thanks, Calum. I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“The bar is now so high,” she teases, looking to Jada. “You’ve made it impossible for, like any other guy now with Calum.”

“Good--the bar should be high. Now, who’s getting pictures with you first?” Jada grins, whipping out her phone from her purse. 

The rotation goes smoothly. The first ones are just of Tasha and her bouquet, then her, Roslyn, and Paul, then individuals with each of her sisters. It seems to be a silent language as one person steps up next Tasha and then once they’re picture is snapped, they step off to the side. But he assumes this kind of efficiency comes with time. 

Tasha grins, taking the phone from Jada. “One with you and Calum.”

“We didn’t just absolutely deliver an Aretha Franklin-esque performance. You did,” Jada returns. 

“For memories,” comes Tasha’s rebuttal.

Calum steps into the frame. “C’mon, love. It is what she wants.” He holds out his hand for Jada and she obliges, taking it. 

“Prom pose,” Tasha directs and Jada turns in front of Calum. His hands settle on her waist. There’s no flash to let them know, but Tasha’s face says it all once the picture’s been snapped. “Calum, you look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m not exactly fond of photos,” he answers honestly. 

“But you do like my sister, right?”

“More than like,” he returns and mostly means for it to be quiet and for Jada, but he knows Destini caught it when there’s fake gagging behind him. 

Jada faces him at the confession and smooths her hand over the chest of his t-shirt. “Wanna say that to my face, stud muffin?”

At the nickname, Calum laughs, pulling her into his chest, not quite thinking about the setting they’re in. “Oh do not call me that. Please spare me.”

“There we go!” Tasha calls out. “Now we just need a family photo.”

Calum kisses the end of Jada’s nose, but reaches out for the phone. “I can take it.”

“Uh, and how do you think you’re going to take it when you’re in it?” Tasha returns, spinning to face him again. She’d turned previously to find someone who might be free to snap a photo of them. 

“I thought--you said family.”

“Yeah, and by the way you’re looking at my sister, you are family.” Tasha taps on the shoulder of an older woman. “I’m sorry. But do you mind just snapping a quick photo of me and my family?”

“‘Course not, sweetheart.” The woman takes the phone and waves for everyone to bunch in. But Calum’s still reeling from Tasha’s statement. By the way you’re looking at my sister, you are family. Was it that obvious to everyone else? Was he just playing a game that was unnecessary? And not that this was a game, but he didn’t think everyone else saw it. The way he could feel himself falling more and more in love with Jada--the chocolate now soaking into the structure of his bones. He manages a smile just as the woman counts down in front of them. Tasha thanks her and looks over the photos. She sends the ones she likes to the family group chat for everyone to save if they should choose to. 

“Can we go out for dinner?” Tasha asks. She knows there’s lots of leftovers, but she wants something more than just the family dinner after such a performance. . 

“I’ll take you out after we eat at home,” Serenity jumps in. “Paint the town red.”

“She’s only eighteen,” Roslyn returns. But it’s too late, Serenity and Tasha are already giggling into each other and pushing forward to the entrance of the school. 

“Do you want to go out with Serenity and Tasha?” Jada asks. Calum, reflexively wrapping his fingers around Jada’s, doesn’t say much. He doesn’t say anything at all. No, it couldn’t be that obvious. Tasha just liked to tease like that, he thought. She was like Jada--she’d use humor to say what she really wanted to say. 

“Baby?” Jada tries again and then pauses when she gets no response. Calum gets one extra step ahead of her and stops when there’s no motion behind him. “Calum?”

“Yeah? Yes?” he returns, catching onto his name. 

“Are you okay? Back at the house and now--I’m worried.”

He takes the step back up onto the curb of the school. Jada’s not necessarily a nagger. She doesn’t keep asking, but she doesn’t forget. It was something like a catalog--she kept it all with her even when it was no good to her. And she’d hold and hold until the thing would pop, when she could no longer hold onto the thing anymore. There’s only so much time he’d have before she pops. 

“Does everyone see it?”

“See what, Calum? You’re scaring me.” Jada didn’t want to admit that she was scared. The relationship had been going well. They met every challenge as best they could and then what they had didn’t seem to perfectly work, they continued to tackle it head on. But only two years of officially dating and the eight months or so where they were still trying to understand what exactly was going on, felt too fast--how could Jada be imagining marrying Calum? How could she be picturing children? She hardly had a career in the grand scheme of things. She had just moved in six months ago. There was no way. No way could she have imagined all those things in such a short period of time. But it felt so right and if Calum wasn’t picturing that--why would he be doing anything of this after this point and time?

“No, no,” he steps in closer. “It’s nothing bad, love. I promise. God, I promise it’s not bad.”

Jada’s heart thunders in her chest. “Then-then what is it? Does everyone see what?”

“You’re like--” he can’t say chocolate. It’ll sound crazy. “Does everyone see how crazy in love I am with you? Because I really thought I was great at hiding it, but I mean, even your sister is calling me family and I just can’t help--is that--” Is he really going to ask it like this? He’d planned for something more, better. A cute proposal in their backyard with Duke holding the ring on his collar. 

“Is that, what?”

“Is that something you want? To be a family? Married? With me?” Married--what a funny word. He couldn’t believe he was uttering it to her like this on the steps of a fucking high school, but here he was.

Jada’s whole face lights up. And it should be more of a shock to Calum’s system. But only relief floods him--he can see the ‘yes’ forming on her lips before she speaks. The way she nods her head even though he’s cupping her cheeks. “Yes, it’s something I want. With you.”

“With me?” Calum questions again.

“Yes, with you, silly.”

And he’s kissing her. Because there’s no one else he can picture growing old with. Sure there were fears--would he fuck it all up and somehow end up repeating the fate of his parents? But the thrill of getting it right fueled him. It’s Jada saying yes to him. The one person who he knew down to his bones wouldn’t give up on him. And quite possibly, it’s just his own hope and faith, but something in his gut tells him, she wouldn’t. Not without good reason at the very least and it isn’t his intention to ever give her a reason-good or otherwise- either. 

Calum’s the first to pull back from the kiss. “Please know that this isn’t--like, I want to propose properly,” he sighs, breathing heavily from the excitement. “A ring. Duke, the whole shebang.”

“Or this could be you proposing properly,” Jada laughs. “Besides, we’re in Vegas. Do you think anything is ever proper here?”

“Your family would literally kill me,” he laughs in return. “I’d much prefer to live.”

“What my family never knows won’t hurt them. But,” Jada starts and then pauses to give Calum another kiss, “all I’m saying is there’s no faster place to get married than Vegas.”

Calum can’t help but chuckle. Jada’s not impatient, but she’s not traditional on a lot of things and Calum does prefer to keep things more secretive. “Just no Elvis impersonators and I think I could be sold.”

Jada takes a small step back. “Are--as much as I’m okay with getting married in a day, I know things are different for you. So please know that I’m okay with waiting. I just--”

“Hey, hey, now. No going into a tizzy. We’re going to be okay.”

“No going into a tizzy,” Jada repeats with a nod. 

“We don’t have to decide right now. We should sleep on it, don’t you think? Have a proper conversation.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I just--I’m excited.” And as she says it, she wraps her arms around Calum’s waist. “I’m relieved too. That we’re at least on the same page.”

“It is a good thing. But tomorrow, let’s talk.”

“Tomorrow,” Jada agrees and the two of them share one more kiss before stepping down off the curb and towards the car. “Did you want to go out tonight? Tasha’s itching and Serenity’s going with her.”

“Tasha’s only eighteen, so I have a feeling her options are limited.”

“She’s most likely going to wind up at a hookah lounge. She’s not quite ready for Little Darlings,” Jada says with a small bit of laughter and Calum knows. He’s maybe shocked that Jada’s aware. Though, he really ought not to be. 

“We could go--” he starts but Jada’s laughter quickly cuts him off. “What? Why are you laughing?”

“Just the thought of us two minutes go basically agreeing that we want to marry each other and immediately following that conversation with one about going to one of the most famous nude clubs in Vegas.”

“Okay, but nowhere near or in that sentence am I hearing the phrase, ‘I don’t want to go to a nude club.’ So I think it’s safe to say that our agreement to marriage isn’t about to fall apart.” He opens the door for Jada and helps her into the truck. 

“But it’s only us that could have that conversation.”

“So, is it a yes or a no?”

“Bubs, I love you. But I can assure you with every ounce of my being there are better clubs for us to visit.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?”

“Because I’ve been to better ones. But we can’t go tonight if we’re going with Tasha and Serenity.”

“I think I’m more intrigued by these better clubs you’ve been to if I’m honest.”

“Well, hop in, good lookin’. There’s the night of your life that awaits you.” The drive back to the house is quick and mostly quiet. The radio plays softly and when they enter the house, the laughter wraps them up. 

Calum starts to regrets his second plate when he notices Jada come back down the stairs with her platform thigh high boots on. He didn’t really intend to go in for that many seconds. But Roslyn was huffing about how she was so close to clearing one dish of deviled eggs that he felt obliged to help such a predicament. And maybe he helped himself to more than just the eggs when he got up because there were corn muffins still staring up at him. And he couldn’t resist those either. 

“Uh oh, he looks down for the count,” Jada teases as she blots over Tasha’s face in preparation for their departure. “I think it might just be you and Serenity tonight.”

“Oh, but I really wanted to hang with you tonight,” Tasha states. 

“Go. Save yourself. Have fun,” Calum mutters reclining into the cushion of the couch. He is absolutely not moving anytime soon, not when he shuts his eyes. “I--I overdid it on plate two.”

“You’re sure you’re going to be okay? I was supposed to show you around.”

“I wouldn’t even make it to the first club,” Calum returns. “Next time, love.”

 A kiss is pressed into his cheek before one lands on his lips. “I’ll text you when we get there and when we’re leaving.”

“Thank you. Sorry about this.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. The itis catches everyone at some point. Just like you said, next time I can show you some clubs.” He hums, a bit of a nod rocking his head and then the door opens and closes from his left. 

Calum anticipates staying on the couch for a little bit. He still wants to help clean up the kitchen, but the longer he stays seated the closer and closer sleep feels. A losing game to play, Calum’s sure. But he plays it anyway. And it’s only a particularly harsh clink that forces him upright. 

“He lives,” Vicky giggles.

“Barely,” Calum returns before pushing off the sofa. Almost all of the dishes have been collected and washed and he mentally curses himself for staying on that sofa after feeling the first tug of sleep. “Need anymore help?”

“Oh, no, baby. We’re good. Thank you,” Roslyn returns. “The second you sat down after your second plate, it was all over.”

“You’d think I’d learn my lesson after the last time.”

“We never do,” Roslyn laughs, placing the new clean pot onto the rack.

“Calum! Your phone’s buzzing! It’s Jada!” He looks to the living room, to spot Vicky holding up his phone. 

“I’ll be right back,” he tells Roslyn and half jogs to get it. “Thank you, Vicky.”

“Uh huh, you’re welcome.”

“You are so nosey!” Destini returns, curling up into the corner of the couch with her book in front of her. 

“Jada said she’d text him when they got there! And her name was just on the screen.”

As Calum reads the text, sure enough Jada confirms their safe arrival, he smiles a bit. He’s glad that Jada can spend time with her sisters, like she wanted. “Thanks for the heads up, Vicky.” 

The house sits a bit more quietly with the kitchen clean and the dishes put away, TV playing and slowly people get ready for bed. Calum steps out of the bedroom to rejoin the current movie marathon that Vicky spontaneously decides to host. But just as he checks the time on his phone and for any texts from Jada, he can hear something rattling down the hallway. Destini comes out of her shared room with a blue bag in her hands. 

She pauses when she notices Calum watching her. “Well, this was going to be an ambush. But I’ve heard that you paint your nails sometimes or at least get them done sometimes.”

It’s the serious tone that she has that causes Calum to crack, giggling as he looks back to the bag. “And if I do?”

“I’m your gal,” Destini states proudly. “I’ve got black, red, green, blue, purple, orange, yellow, green and I have different shades inside those colors too. I have holo toppers. Ma doesn’t like it when I use the chrome powders too much because they can get a little messy. But for you, I think she can make an exception to the rule. I can’t have gel yet. But next year after I turn sixteen, I’m supposed to be able to buy them and the lamp so I can do gel manicures.”

“Lead the way into your salon,” Calum states but does reach out for the bag to carry it for her. 

“A perfect gentleman. Right this way.” They head down the stairs, through the living room and back to the kitchen table. Destini grabs the roll of paper towel from the counter and he turns on the light. 

“Can I look through your colors?”

“Yep!” Destini returns, dragging over a smaller trash can. 

It’s almost unending as he pulls out the bottles. Some icy blues, bright reds, and burgundy greets him. He keeps going and finds dark greens too alongside some shades of sage as well. Glitter polish peek out and he pulls out small containers of powders--the chrome he figures. By the time he gets all the bottles pulled out, Destini is fully set up opposite of him with stickers and other nail accessories too, bowls, cuticle pusher, and oils. “How long have you been collecting all this?”

“Oh I want to get my license and work at my auntie’s shop,” Destini returns. “I practice on my sisters and there’s some stuff like extensions that I still need to learn. I’ve done one gel tip extension set. But I still need a lot of practice.”

Calum nods, torn between a blue and the black. “Well,” he says, putting his hands onto the towel in front of her. “I am more than happy to be live practice.”

“Any color in particular?”

Calum shakes his head. “Nah. I trust you.”

“Can you do me next?” Vicky asks, pulling up to the table as well. Whatever movie she’s picked is clearly now forgotten for now at least. He’s sure they’ll return to those after this detour. 

Destini nods. “Sure. Let me just get his colors and then you can choose.” Destini pulls out a black and a purple polish alongside a purple chrome powder. Calum watches her assemble all her necessities and settles in. He makes sure to turn his phone face up, so he can see anything that comes in and not interrupt her work. 

The night doesn’t even feel that long, and maybe it’s because the music has rattled their bodies in ways that makes the silence feel like time is slowing down again. Jada checks her phone to see it’s nearing midnight. Serenity and Tasha walk ahead of her back to Serenity’s car. Calum had responded to her initial text about making it to the strip, but the thread sat silent between them. We’re on our way back. 

“Jada Renee! Come move your slow ass,” Serenity shouts. 

“Serenity Taylor!” Jada hollers back, but starts back up to catch up. It’s early in the night if any of them are honest. But they know with Christmas on the horizon and only being a couple days out, they need not push the boundaries of their mother’s patience. So they call it an early night. 

The living room lights are still visible from the windows as Jada walks up to the house and she’s shocked that anyone would even still be downstairs. But as the door creaks open and the house opens up to the three of them, it’s quite clear that the bodies are downstairs but everyone’s asleep. Calum sits on the far end of the couch, head dropped into the couch cushions. Next to him are Destini and Vicky, both sprawled out of the cushions. Vicky’s tucked into his side and Destini rests her head on the arm of the couch nearest to the door. Jada tiptoes into the house and Serenity and Tasha are as quiet as they can be behind her in their heels. 

“We’ll take them,” Tasha whispers, pointing over Destini and Vicky. Jada nods and walks over to Calum. The two youngest barely wake enough to stand but with Serenity and Tasha supporting their weight, all four of them make it up the stairs. 

Calum wakes, right as Jada goes to reach out and stroke his cheek. There’s a moment where they both freeze, hoping not to startle the other. Then Calum smiles, taking her outstretched hand and tugging her forward. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi, love. I see you hung tough with the party animals.” Something black catches her eyes so she looks down at his hands. Every finger, minus the ring finger, is painted black. His ring finger sports something that looks a little blue, a little green, and purple--almost shifting through the spectrum. She wonders if it has chrome on it. 

“Destini,” Calum answers, watching her gaze. “She did really well.”

“Yeah, last I heard it was her latest career path of choice. Ma’s not too happy about it, but if it’s what Destini wants, she ain’t gonna have much choice in the matter. C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

Calum hooks his hand onto one of Jada’s thighs, right on the cusps of the top of the boot and her actual flesh, and pulls her into his lap. “Tell me about your night first.”

“I smell like smoke, I’m sorry.”

“You say that to the smoker in this relationship.”

“That is true. We just went to the hookah lounge like I told you and we walked the strip a little. Not too many places will let Tasha in, but she had fun, I think. Once she turns 21, there’s plenty of damage we can do together.”

Calum chuckles, thumb stroking at Jada’s inner thigh. A bit of her lace is lifting and he runs a finger over it. “You brought your glue right?”

“I’m probably going to take this down tomorrow. See if I can sucker my mom into washing my hair for me.” 

He nods. “When Tasha turns 21 and the three of you can legally terrorize Vegas, I’ll make sure I give the city a call as a heads up.”

“We’re not that bad.”

“Bad enough,” Calum states, kissing her cheek. 

“What about you? How was your night?”

“Mellow. It was nice. Vicky headed movie night and Destini painted nails. Roslyn and Paul called it a night pretty early on; I think at some point between the first and second movie. And as you can see, the three party animals didn’t make it past 11 or so. I think I was the last one to fall asleep.”

“Sounds lovely,” Jada returns, running the pads of her fingers over his forearms. “The entire time we were out Tasha gushed her heart out about the flowers you bought her.”

Calum’s not sure how to respond. Because part of it is simple courtesy. But the other part is a bit of pride. He always wanted to treat not just Jada right, but her sisters right too. There was no way to Jada that didn’t involve her sisters. “I’m glad she likes them.”

“I can’t wait to marry you. And not like I can’t. But I think that’s a day that I’ll cherish deeply.”

“And to think, you wanted it to be tonight.”

“It can be tomorrow for all I care.”

“We’ll just have to see come tomorrow. But I do want to run it by Roslyn and Paul first. It’s important to me that they’re on board too.”

Jada nods, turning her head to look at Calum. His gaze is casted down, brows pulled together. She knows that look.  “What are you thinking about?”

“That I want to call my mum tonight and figure out what size ring you wear.”

“I can’t break Joy’s heart.” It’s mostly an internal thought meant to be no louder than a whisper. 

But in the silence and closeness that they sit, Calum hears it. “You’re not going to break her heart. She adores you. So does Dad and Mali.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to take anything away from them.”

“Which is why we’ll talk to her. It’s early in Australia. We’ll get it all straightened out.” It’s a nod that he gets in return. “No going into a tizzy, remember?”

With an exhaled tuft of laughter, Jada nods again. “I know, no going into a tizzy.”

Calum plants a kiss to her cheek and taps her thigh. “C’mon. Let’s get you a shower and I’ll call Mum.”

They clean up the downstairs and turn off the lights as they go. Jada settles onto the edge of the bed to peel out of the boots and Calum gathers her towel and washcloth. He pauses at her pajamas. “Christmas PJ’s or your blue ones?”

“Blue ones--we save Christmas ones for Christmas Eve. Also, I am stone cold sober. You don’t have to do all this.”

“I know,” Calum states and then kisses her temple. “Wanted to.”

Jada spies the lacy pink underwear neatly settled onto the top of her pile. “And I can see why.”

“They look good on you,” Calum defends. 

“And off me too, I’m assuming,” Jada returns, recalling all the times he’s peeled her out of them. Calum laughs as she leaves to go to the bathroom.

 The FaceTime call rings, a blurry screen greeting Calum as he reclines into the pillows and bedframe. He’s hoping it’s not too early for a call. But he needs to let her know. It rings for a moment longer and then finally connects. His mother smiles. “Hey. Let me look at you,” she greets. 

“Hi, Mum. How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you? Is that Jada’s room?”

Calum nods, flipping the screen and showing off the walls. “Yeah, it is. Today was Tasha’s choir performance. So we did that. Then Tasha, Jada and Serenity went to the strip. I stayed back and Destini did my nails,” he flips the camera back around to show her Destini’s work. 

“Oh, those look great.”

“Yeah, she did really well.”

“What’s the rest of the week looking like?”

“Jada and I are taking Destini and Vicky out on Sunday after Christmas.” He pauses. Because truth be told, depending on how the conversation tomorrow goes, who the hell knows what’s going to happen. “I-I called to talk to you about something, Mum.”

“Uh huh, now here we go. Okay, let me get my coffee first and then I’m all ears.” There’s a shuffle and Calum hears the glug of coffee into her mug of choice. She settles down into a chair, phone resting against something as she holds the mug in both hands. “Alright, what is that you want to talk about?”

He feels like a child again as his mother’s gaze pierces his through the screen. “So,” and there’s no other way to say it. He can’t preface with a first, or second, or third. “I--I wanna marry her, Mum. And I mean like, I’m not just saying it. I really want to marry her.”

Joy smiles, watching Calum. She can see it, in the way he can’t help but smile when he talks about her. “That’s wonderful. Does Jada know?”

“Yeah, we talked briefly today and have plans to talk more tomorrow. And I don’t know. It might not be well received if we get married now and have the spectacle later, ya know? I don’t want to alienate you or Dad.”

“Son, you have fallen faster and harder for Jada than I’ve ever seen you with anyone else. The only thing that would disappoint me is you not doing the things that make you happy. We can celebrate and do the spectacle at any time for you two. But do what’s right for you? You’ve always made choices that worked out. Doesn’t mean the lessons won’t be hard. But if you love her, they’ll be worth it.”

“I don’t want to fuck it up, ya know.”

“We’re always human, sweetheart. I know you’re afraid because of your father and I.” A silence settles--one that lets Joy know that she’s got the nail on the head. “What does your gut say?”

“That I do want to be with her. I want the whole run of it--kids, dogs. With her. And I know it won’t be easy. But I don’t want to imagine it with anyone.”

Joy catches the use of ‘want’. Calum could imagine something else--he had choices. And everyone did--every single person had choices to make. But he was choosing Jada. “Then you don’t imagine it with anyone else. Don’t choose anyone else.”

“You make it sound so simple, Mum. And we both know it’s harder than that.”

“Oh, I never said it would be easier. But this can be. This can be the easiest thing you do in your life right now.”

The question lingers and as the door creaks open, Jada gives a quick wave. He smiles and looks down to his phone. “What’s the hardest?”

“Keeping it--making the choice over and over and over again. But with the two of you, I believe.”

___________

It’s hard not to wake up early the next morning early. Between the hiss of something cooking downstairs and the muffled voices of the rooms surrounding, sleeping in seems like something impossible. But it’s not something Calum ever really intended to do. His phone buzzes in his hands--a message from his father. News is you’re looking at rings. 

Yeah, pops. You talked to Mum?

She called earlier. I figured you’d be sleep. But call me when you get a moment. 

Calum watches Jada, face pressed into the satin material of pillowcase. The noise must be normal for her--something that even her subconscious blocks out. And he figures she can be spared a few extra minutes in slumber. He slips out of the bed and slowly opens the door. In the hallway, he can hear Destini and Vicky’s voice from downstairs. Serenity and Tasha are still in the room next to them. 

“Hey!” His dad greets. 

“Hi Pops. How’s it going?”

“You sound like you just woke up. You doing alright?”

“Yeah, it’s,” Calum wipes across his screen. “It’s about 7:45 here. Still early.”

“And what in Christ's heavens are you doing up?”

“Ring shopping,” Calum answers sheepishly. “And I still need to ask her mom and stepdad.”

“Aye! My boy! I’m proud of ya son. Jada’s lovely.”

“Thanks, pops.”

“Well, I ain’t lookin’ to blether not without some pints at least. But I just want to pass along my congrats. We’ll have a party soon too, I hope.”

“Yeah, I’ll have more details soon. But I won’t forget you or Mum or Mali. I promise.”

“Aye, aye. I know you won’t. It’s the fame, I reckon. Trying to keep the noise level down?”

“Well, this really came up just yesterday. So we still gotta consider all our options.”

“And you ain’t got a ring? Boy!”

“I know, I know. But it’s all gonna work out.”

“For you I hope so.”

“A ring?” The shout comes from down the hall a little ways and when Calum looks to his left, he spots Serenity and Tasha right outside their door. Both with bonnets still on, but dressed clearly for the day. “Did we just hear what we heard?” Tasha asks. 

His father laughs. “Oh, have I ruined the news?”

“It’s her sisters, Pops. Can I call you back?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! Talk to you later, son!” The call ends and Calum waves for them to settle and steps in closer. He’s not sure if they’re going to shout, but he’s praying to whatever gods that exist, they don’t. 

“I think we did,” Serenity returns. “Does Jada know?”

Calum nods. “I still need to ask Roslyn and Paul permission. It’s all happening kind of fast. But yeah, she knows.”

“Oh,” Tasha starts. 

“My,” Serenity continues and in unison, they say, “God.”

“After breakfast, you and I are going out, Cal.” Serenity says it with finality, as if there’s nothing Calum can do to refute it. And two days from Christmas, Calum’s not sure he’s going to have much luck. 

“I-Can we make it lunch?”

“Sure. But you will not have my sister with no basic ass ring. I absolutely refuse. Unless you want me dead and you dead too. Because if she kills me, I’m coming back to haunt somebody.”

“No, not in the slightest,” Calum states. Serenity descends first but Tasha lingers behind. “You tagging along?” he asks. He’s sure she will. 

“I-Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

She waves him back into her room and he stands along the wall. A spot between the start of her floating shelves and the door to the room. She looks down to the floor before looking back up to Calum. “This is like so stupid. But I just wanted to say thanks. For being you. And for the bouquet again.”

“You’re welcome Tasha. You really were phenomenal last night.”

“Thanks. But really, it means a lot. And Jada seems happy, like really happy for the first time in a long time. And you don't have to do all that you do--letting Destini do your nails or like dealing with the madness of all of us. Or even helping us with Sunday. I don’t know. I just wanted to say thanks.”

It’s obvious. It’s so fucking obvious and no matter how much Calum wanted to hide it he’d never be able too. But that doesn’t stop him from being speechless. “You don’t--really, I’m happy too. But thanks. For noticing.”

“So, when do you plan on talking to Ma and Dad?”

“I have a feeling I need to do it today. Like, as soon as I can. But tell me one thing. What are my chances of dying today?”

“Are y’all two married yet?”

Calum shakes his head no. “If it were up to Jada solely, the answer would be different.”

“Then I think the chances are low, but not zero.”

“I never think the chances hit that low.” 

Holding out her arm, Tasha nods for Calum to tag along. “C’mon. I can sweeten up Paul. I’m his favorite.”

Calum looks back to Jada’s bedroom and for a moment, wishes he could at least be there when she wakes. But he knows he needs to ask without Jada there. Hooking his arm through hers, he and Tasha trot down the steps. A conversation, which Calum has a suspicion he already knows the subject about, looks like it stops and Roslyn pauses at the stove, facing the two of them completely. 

“Tasha, can you take a look at the cinnamon rolls? They’re proofing. Good morning, Calum.”

“Good morning, Roslyn.” Yep, the secret’s not really a secret anymore. And even though, he can tell Roslyn is sizing him up, he can see the edge of a smile threatening her face. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Can you talk and cook?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Serenity, let him man the pancakes.” 

She takes a step back and lets Calum take her spot. “I tried to warm her up. But she’s good,” she whispers as she turns to help Tasha. 

Calum waits for the bubbles on the pancake in the pan and then flips it. Roslyn turns over the sausage in her pan. “Is Paul still here?”

“Who’s calling my name?” Paul asks, stepping back into the house, bags in hand. “I got the orange juice, Ros.”

“Thank you, babe. Can you come here for a second?” she calls out. And it’s the swish of a plastic bag that let’s Calum know that Paul is closing in. 

“Mornin’ Calum! Oh, she got you working hard, I see.”

“Good morning, Paul.” 

They give each other a nod and Paul slips through to put the juice in the fridge. “Whatcha need, babe? I ain’t forget nothing now, did I?”

“Calum, here, wants to talk to us,” Roslyn relays. 

“Well, we not talking over this hot stove. Des and Vicky,” he calls. They come in from the living room, having already set out all the table settings and glasses. “Y’all take over for Calum and Ma for a minute, okay?”

“Okay.” They return in unison and Calum pours the batter for the next pancake into the pan before handing the spatula over to Destini. 

“Oh, dude, it’s not chipped!”

“Nah, you did good,” he returns. 

“I’m trying a new top coat and I was a little nervous. I wrapped the tips like I’m supposed to, but sometimes new products won’t layer right.” 

With a hum of recognition, Calum follows Roslyn and Paul to the table. And he wasn’t nervous before--not when he had something to do. But now his hands sweat a little. He’s done things on a massive scale, performing to thousands of people before. But that’s miles different than this. Roslyn sits and Paul stands behind her chair. Oh this is so much worse. Objectively, a thousand times worse whatever crowd he’s performed in front of hands down. How is he even supposed to start here? A thank you? Just outright asking for their permission? 

“You look a little nervous there,” Paul starts. 

“I, well, I am a little,” Calum answers. But he exhales through his nose and figures thank you’s never hurt. Or least, it’ll buy him some time to sort out the words he wants to use. “First, thank you for letting me into your home. I know it’s a squeeze, but I appreciate you two embracing me each time so openly. I know it hasn’t been terribly long. And let’s be honest, I-I can’t exactly act like it’s surprising news either. But I want to say that the last two years I’ve spent with Jada have been nothing short of amazing.”

Calum pauses, taking another deep breath. He can already see the tears in Roslyn’s eyes. When he looks at Paul, he’s tear-eyed too. “God, it shouldn’t be this hard,” he laughs, feeling tears stinging behind his own eyes. “I know I want to marry your daughter. Like there’s no other way to say it and no way to be more tactful. I already get teased about it, but I love her. In all simple truths, I know I want to spend every last second I have on this planet with Jada, but I would never want to do that without your blessing first. I know how important family is to her and I’d be remiss not to ask you. So do I have your blessing to marry Jada?”

“Oh my god, I’m so close to driving the two of you to the fucking courts myself,” Roslyn jokes, popping up from the seat. “Yes, Calum. I already consider you family.” She wraps him in a hug, swaying back and forth. It’s a tight hug and Calum’s glad for it. His own chest feels like it’s going to cave in without the support to hold it together. 

When Roslyn lets go, she keeps one arm around his waist. Paul, still standing behind the chair, seems almost frozen. The tears are running down his face and there's pride on his face, but still something like disbelief tinging it. His chin wobbles a little and it’s almost like all the air catches in his throat. “She was my first daughter. I wasn’t there for the first few years, but she was my first. I was there to help teach her how to ride a bicycle. She came to me first to come out. She called me Pappa Paul still then too. And I am incredibly blessed to see her grow up. But to find a man like you--that’s something I prayed for, for all my girls.” Paul finally takes a step out from the chair. He’s a bit slow to close the distance between them. “Calum--you’re everything I’d want for my daughter and a bit more too. And Jada’s capable, make no mistake. Girl’s got some horns on her once she’s settled onto something. But I think the true honor is knowing that she’s in great hands. Take care of my little girl, okay? Please? She won’t always make it easy, but she makes it worth it.”

Calum’s vision swims and he blinks to clear the tears. They well back up again and he nods. “Of course, Paul. I’m happy too,” it’s choked as he says it and soft. But when Paul hugs him, Calum knows it was heard. 

“Where are the tissues?” Destini asks. 

Tasha hands her one, clutching the box in her arms. All their attempts to pretend like they weren’t listening immediately stopped the second the triage settled at the dining room table. Serenity turned off the burners to keep anything from burning and Tasha found the spare box of tissues from the cabinet. 

“Fuck, if I don’t have a love like that, I don’t want it,” Serenity teases, dabbing under her eyes. 

Jada leans into the railing of the stairs, shoulders shaking with her own tears. And when Calum excuses himself to the spare bathroom on the first floor, he spots her. She’s not even attempting to hide herself. “How much?” he asks, pivoting his course and starts up the stairs. “How much did you catch of that?”

“I swear I wasn’t--” she hiccups, “I didn’t mean to. I was headed back up actually and then--” Another hiccup interrupts her. Calum settles onto the step next to her, arms wrapped around her shoulder. “And I guess I came down after your whole thing. Because I heard Ma say yes and I hadn’t-- I hadn’t even noticed I stopped calling Paul Pappa and I just broke.”

Calum nods, holding her close to him. She shakes against him and he does her best to soothe her. It takes a minute or so and when she gets still enough, Calum encourages her up. Her eyes are red and her cheeks--dark like the rest of her--are clearly stained. “He loves you no matter what.”

“I-I know, but that has to hurt though.”

“Let’s get to the bathroom, okay, love.” He leads them up the rest of the stairs. The one that creaks no matter how much weight you try not to put on it still creaks on them and when they get to the landing, Calum turns in the direction of the first bathroom. 

Jada rests against the wall, exhaling as her head rests backward. “I’m okay. That just--it hit like a ton of bricks.”

“We don’t even know we’re growing up until it happens,” Calum says, finding new clean washcloths and running them under cold water. “Look at me,” he commands softly and wipes one under her eyes. 

“Is there a dry eye in this house?” Jada jokes, trying to reach for the second washcloth. 

“Hey, stay still. And I highly doubt it. Serenity and Tasha are kidnapping me later today.”

“May I ask why?”

“Ring shopping,” he answers, dropping the cloth for a second. 

“Calum,” Jada starts, “my only request is that you don’t buy me rose gold. But I thought we needed to talk. I know your Mum was for it but still.”

“I can still go ring shopping. Our conversation isn't going to change the fact that I absolutely do want to marry you. I just want to make sure when we talk it’s about being sure, and we’re not on different pages about kids or anything else important.”

“I want to know if you want to be closer to your family or not. You mentioned it once wanting to move back to Australia. And I know my family is here, but I think that’s also important to get straight.”

Calum nods. He did want that. He’s not sure if it’s feasible at all with where the band is currently in their career and then he’d take to take her so far away from her family too. Not ideal in any shape. But if kids aren’t in the picture for a couple more years then, they can sort it all out. “Yeah, I think that’s all worth clearing up. But don’t mistake any of that as me trying to back out of this.”

“Calum Thomas Hood, I am not scared you’re going to run away. Are you?”

“Jada Renee Miller, the thing I’m scared of is not marrying you. Because then I’d be a goddamn fool. I just--I’m scared you’re going to read my need for clear air as something else and that’s not what I want at all. I just, we’re always honest and I don’t want to start hiding anything now.”

“No going into a tizzy,” Jada states and takes the washcloth from his hand. 

“No going into a tizzy.” 

Jada runs water over the cloth and then wipes at his cheeks. They head back down stairs and it’s clear that everyone’s been anticipating it. But Jada tries her best not to steal looks at her sisters. They’ll grin and it’ll make her crack. “Ma, can you wash my hair after breakfast?”

“Jada, you are grown.”

“Please?”

It’s Roslyn trying not to look at Jada that lets Jada know just how much everyone is trying to keep it together. “Jada.” It’s firm, but the hint of laughter is clear. 

“Ma, I know.”

Roslyn whips around, tongs in hand. “What do you mean?”

“Call it my intuition or call it a conversation. But I know.”

“Oh, that’s no fun.”

“I think I’d rather spare the man any embarrassment if he were to ask at the wrong time. So will you please wash my hair today?”

“We are not just about to waltz past the fact that your boyfriend’s talking marriage!” Roslyn declares. “No, I won’t have it.”

Calum, who had previously stepped in to help grab the plates from the cabinets, looks up and smiles over Roslyn’s shoulder to Jada. Serenity reclaimed her duty with pancakes so Calum moved in to help in another way. “Yeah, we can’t waltz past that. So, first dance ideas? Waltz? Tango?”

“That requires you to actually move your hips and shoulders more in one degree, love,” Jada laughs. 

“I can dance contrary to all video proof.”

“Hmm, I’ll believe that when pigs fly or you dance,” Jada teases. “So, Ma, will you?”

Roslyn sighs. “Yeah, I’ll do it. But you have got to help clean dishes. And now tell me--what kind of dress? Mermaid? Aline?”

“Purple,” Jada laughs in returns, taking a plate from the stack on the dining room table and setting it onto a place mat. 

“Jada Renee!” Roslyn calls out, snapping the tongs at her. 

___________

Jada leans her head back, arms resting up on her mother’s legs as she sits on the floor. The tug of her mother’s fingers is enough to almost lug her to sleep. It used to hurt, but not much anymore. Calum, jogging down the steps, keys in hand, taps over his pockets. He has his phone and his wallet. Jada peaks open an eye. “Hat and glasses,” she calls out and Calum snaps his fingers before jogging back up the steps. 

“Thank you,” Calum says as he comes back down the stairs. 

“You’re welcome,” Jada hums.

He watches for a moment as Roslyn parts the hair, coats her fingers in something--it’s clear or maybe it’s got a lightest hue to it and it slicks down the flyaways, before she starts twisting the hair along the scalp. “I wanna learn how to do that.”

“I’ll teach ya,” Roslyn says, glancing up and fingers still deftly twisting strands. “It’s not hard.”

“Thanks.” He glances down to Jada and sees her eyes close. “I’d ask if she’s actually asleep.”

“I’m not,” Jada answers. Serenity and Tasha come down the stairs. It’s clear by the not so quiet debate about band color. Thankfully neither one of them mentions rose gold. 

“But she is not,” Calum laughs and kneels before kissing her cheek. “No rose gold,” he whispers and she grins. 

“Correct.”

Jada listens for the closing of the door and over it she hears some sort of combination of Serenity mentioning a princess cut diamond and Tasha shouting about making sure to get a matching band. “Whoa. Can we slow down? I need visuals. Keep it as simple as possible,” Calum returns. 

Jada can only laugh. “That’s my family.”

__________

Calum and Jada lay, dressed in their Christmas Eve pajamas, on the floor of her old bedroom. Beneath them they can hear the voices of her family. No doubt someone calling for more cookies and someone needing more milk for theirs. But they lay, listening to the noise beneath them. Calum wasn’t successful in his attempts to find a ring. Though he snapped a few pictures of some finalists, or least what Tasha told him to take pictures of. He was not one to dismiss her expertise. 

Jada looks at the duffel bag she brought with her. She knows what’s buried at the bottom of it. The box housing the band that her and Paul selected together. Once her hair was finalized, Paul asked her to come with him. And in the departure they stopped at a jeweler that Paul trusts. She anticipated it being harder, taking a much longer time. But when the man pulled out this box of bands and she spied the silver one in the back row, the inside of it carved to almost look like a braid, she knew it was the one. Platinum--she found out later. Expensive, but durable. Durability is something she wanted. Calum didn’t work a lot with his hands, but she rather have that base covered then on the unfortunate end of a damaged ring. 

Jada wanted the traditional gold, but all the jewellry Calum bought himself was silver. She wanted something that would stand out, but not too much so amongst what he already had. A subtle shine and simplicity but they would both know what it stood for. Maybe it was too the fact that the second Calum started sporting it, he’d be photographed. The platinum band would hopefully keep it all a bit more secretive until either one of them felt the need to say anything. 

It’s silly no doubt to hide it. But she liked the idea that she’d have it at least and keep it a mystery from Calum. Well, for however long she managed to keep it a secret. 

“How many kids?” Calum asks, turning his head to her. Jada’s twists are tucked up under a gold scarf and Calum wishes that he stayed, watched Roslyn part and twist. But next time maybe. 

“Three? Feels like my max. You?”

“Two--maybe. Always felt like a good number. My sister and I had each other to rely on. Also, keeps us from getting outnumbered as parents.”

“Two is a pretty good number. You thought more about Australia?”

“The band’s pretty local to LA right now. But I do miss home a little. I’d want my kids to know about it, visit. If we have kids, Mum’s going to want to come out to LA though for a little bit at least.”

“I love Joy.” It’s all Jada says but her exhale is slow. Just because they’re not moving right now doesn’t mean they won’t eventually. 

“What are you not telling me?”

“I’ve never lived that far from my family,” Jada exhales. “I’d be scared to move to a new country. I’d have you and your mum. But it’s a little scary.”

Calum turns to his stomach. “It’s scary for sure. But we can always revisit it. I don’t see us trying for kids immediately.”

“I’m getting older,” Jada returns softly. The confusion that crosses Calum’s face lets Jada know she has to come clean. Jada sits up fully, spinning on the carpet to face Calum. It’s not an easy thing to admit--mostly because she’d been trying to run from it as much as she could even though she’d been on two stints of birth control and was now in takes of pre-screening with her doctors. Jada picks at the underside of her nail before casting a glance back up to Calum. “Ovarian cancer runs in my family. I’ve started the screening process for it now that I’m older. But if they detect cancer, some treatments can affect fertility. And there’s options--like freezing eggs or adopting--but yeah. I’ve always kind of pictures myself carrying my own children and I don’t mind waiting. But it does worry me. I don’t know how much time I have really.”

Calum pushes up and reaches out for her hands. “I want to give you everything you want, Jada. But I think I need a couple years before kids. And I’m so sorry.”

It hurts--she knew the possibility was very real that Calum wasn’t ready. And she can’t fault him. He’s young and probably just the mere thought of kids is enough for him to wait. “There’s other options,” she whispers. And it’s to herself, to steel the tears. There are other options. There are other options. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Calum whispers. He knew she was going more frequently to the OB/GYN. She’d told him previously it was just preventative care, but he didn’t know why. She’d played that close to the cuff. 

“I’m sorry. I-I should’ve said this sooner.”

“Look at me.” When Jada’s watery gaze looks up, he closes in, forehead resting on hers. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I so did not want to do this on Christmas Eve.”

“If not now, when?”

“Christmas Day,” Jada returns with a laugh, wiping at the fallen tears. “But who knows? I could be a miracle, yeah?” Her mother was a miracle. Maybe the fates and stars would all align for her too. Maybe--there was no guarantee though. Not in the slightest. 

“You could be,” Calum agrees. Because the chances are never zero, he reminds himself. They are never zero, even if they are low and he needs that hope. Jada still had a chance even if the number was low. And it’s all he has to offer--just the hope--and so they sit for a moment, knees to knees as Calum folds up in front of her. 

“Still want to marry a broken machine like me?”

“Jada, you’re not broken. You’re human. So no, I wouldn’t want to marry a broken machine. But I’d love to marry the human like you.”

Jada studies his face. The way his brows knit together, trying to stitch themselves into some sort of new shape near the center of his forehead. “Can I ask what you’re thinking?”

“That I don’t want to hear you call yourself broken. I don’t like hearing it. And I know it’s not really my voice that matters at the end of the day. I know that. But I still feel wrong hearing it.”

“My therapist returns to the office a week after the new year. I set up an appointment.”

Calum nods. Her doctor went on maternity leave for a few months and Jada had gone to a couple different other doctors also in the building, but nothing had clicked. It’d been rough at first, but she hit a stride where the good days kept going. He wonders if the coming back home and now their inevitable wedding was pushing at all the stress buttons again. “I’m glad to hear she’s coming back soon and that you set up an appointment.”

“I told her about you. She asked for an update when I see her next.”

“Well, you’ll have one hell of an update, then.”

“Speaking of therapists, updating insurance is going to be a bitch,” Jada hums, gently running her nails up the length of his forearms. 

“And your license,” Calum jokes. “And passport.”

“Do not remind me. God, why doesn’t the man have to change anything?”

“I mean, I could still professionally go by Calum Hood and change my last name.”

“Calum Miller does not sound as good as Hood. But you’d probably get to hide easier.”

Calum strokes his chin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Jada laughs just as a knock sounds from the door. It’s been mostly open this entire time, but with most of the family downstairs, they’ve had some privacy. 

Roslyn pokes her head inside and spots them on the side of the room where the closed door can hide them. “What’s happening up here?”

“Boring stuff. Debating who’s changing their last name,” Jada states, pointedly looking at Calum. 

“We’ve made no decision yet though.”

Roslyn nods. “We are t-minus five minutes from starting The Polar Express. So I really hate to interrupt such a riveting conversation. But the train cannot leave the station until everyone’s aboard the train with their tickets.” 

She holds out two pieces of paper, and on it it’s clear someone’s colored them gold--paint maybe-- with random letters punched into them. Or that’s what Calum’s gathered as he takes the one handed to him. “Should I ask now or wait until the movie is over?” he jokes. 

“Wait for the movie,” Jada responds and stands first. “We’re right behind you, Ma.”

Calum stands and though Jada goes to move on, push open the door and continue on, Calum stops her. “You okay? That’s a lot that just went down.”

“I’m as okay as I can be right now, if I’m honest. I know kids are a lot to consider. I just dumped a whole thing on you. And expecting you to have the answer I wanted is unfair. Doesn’t make it hurt less, ya know? It’s just how the cookie crumbled. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel and have your own fears.”

“Just know I hear you, okay? I know you’re worried about waiting too long. Would it help to start looking at other possibilities? A backup plan to the backup plan.”

“Later like, after the holidays I think I can find the brain to talk about it. I don’t think I can handle too much right now.”

“After the holidays,” Calum agrees and follows her down the stairs to the living room. The couch is fully occupied by the time they descend. Roslyn, Destini, and Vicky have claimed spots. Paul unfortunately got the night shift for Christmas Eve, but it does get him home on Christmas Day, so they’ll take that win. Serenity and Tasha have built spots on the floor, along the couch for where they’ll be settled in and one more spot is open right at the end of the couch near the front door. 

“I’ll get us cookies and snacks,” Jada states and veers into the kitchen. Calum takes the hint and settles down in their spot, watching from afar as she collects everything. She makes it worth it. And she does, she’s always made it worth it. But it was like his mother had said, it wouldn’t always be easy. But it was a choice and he’d choose Jada a thousand times over if he needed too. 

Jada returns a bowl of popcorn and two plates of cookies. Tucked into her arm are various bottled drinks. “I almost cracked open the champagne, since we hadn’t touched it yet.”

“Save it for tomorrow. There’s cider in the fridge,” Roslyn offers. 

“I wonder where the wine went,” Jada teases, looking at the last of the red wine in her mother’s glass. 

With a large gulp, Roslyn grins. “I wouldn’t know. Not the slightest clue.”

“What a shame.” 

Calum helps Jada down, grabbing the bottled drinks and a plate so she can settle down in front of him. Vicky does a head count, each one of them sounding off as she touches their shoulder. “Alright, we start our departure, in three….two….one.” The movie buffers for a second and then starts to play. The light dim just a little in the house, and for a beat it’s really like Christmas. The matching PJ’s that Calum and Jada have. The house smells of vanilla and sugar from cookie baking. If it were to snow, Calum wouldn’t bat an eye--he’d call it a Christmas miracle.  

The speakers shaking just a little when the train finally arrives on screen. Calum, with his arms resting by his side, reaches out for Jada and she reclines into his chest. “Do the kids have tickets for the train?”

She grins up at him, feeding him a handful of popcorn. “Yep.”

“And is this guy punching the beginning letters into them for them?”

“Uh huh.”

“Let me guess who punched the letter into our tickets?”

“If you say someone with a V in their name, you’re correct,” Jada chuckles. 

“It’s all coming together. Vin Diesel. Fast and Furious Christmas edition.”

It takes all of Jada’s might not to laugh out loud and she can feel herself shaking as she attempts to stifle her laughter. After a minute, she settles and Calum’s giant smile greets her. “You’re not totally off base given one point in this movie.”

They watch the skidding of the train, the kids getting hot chocolate, sliding down Santa’s giant toy bag and when the bell is heard, the entire house erupts into cheers. It starts to come to an end as the children return to their homes and the screen freezes. Calum pauses for just a moment and then he notices people reaching up. When he glances up, Vicky hands out new golden tickets, more holes in them than their first ones. 

“No, no way,” he whispers to Jada. “Are those words?”

“You’ve never seen this movie?”

“I mean, I feel like I have in some respects. But clearly my memory is stating otherwise.”

“Just wait,” she smiles. “Thanks,” she directs to Vicky when she grabs her new ticket, the one with her full word for the year on it. She holds it a bit in the light to read Joyous punched into the sheet. 

Calum takes his and tries to read the others, but he can’t quite make it all out. Though he thinks Roslyn’s read Courageous. When he holds his up a little over Jada’s head, he catches the B that started his letter from the first ticket and follows the humps and lines down the page. His throat jumps when he puts all the letters together, Brother. He wasn’t worthy of that, not to Vicky or any of them, but when he looks back to Vicky on the couch, she smiles. “Brother?” he asks out loud. 

She nods. “Cheesy, I know. And technically breaks the rules. But,” she shrugs. “I think it’s pretty cool to have you in the family now. You’re cool. And I’ve never really had a brother before. I have some boy cousins but they annoy me. And you don’t annoy me so don’t worry about that.”

“I-I love it. Thank you, Vicky.”

She gives another nod. “You’re welcome, Calum.” The movie starts up again and Vicky shouts, “Ticket please!” in time with the movie as the rest of the girls hold up their tickets straight up in the air. 

He looks back to his. Brother--sure he was a brother to Mali and he was a brother to Luke, Michael, and Ashton. But he’d spent years with them--through the thick and the thin. He’d dedicated his life to them in ways that he didn’t think he could give to anyone else. And maybe he wasn’t a brother to Jada’s sisters in the same way he was a brother to the guys or to Mali just yet. But there was something. They trusted them and Calum loved them--loved all of this no matter how much he was still new to it.

And he thinks about that damn chocolate again--how not only had he’d fallen for Jada, but her family had made space for him. He was spreading into the webs and no one seemed to bat an eye at it. Soon, he’d be so much a fixture that Calum’s not sure he’d be able to recall the moments of unease, of still trying to find his footing, because he’d be so perfectly melded into everything.

It starts now, though, with a gold painted piece of construction paper that reads Brother and Calum wouldn’t want to imagine it any other way. So he rests his elbow on his bent knees to put his ticket up into the air. They come back down a few moments later and the movie slowly fades out as the voice over comes back not too long after. 

That movie ends and there’s a pause, people replenishing snacks and Calum can only start down at this newly-minted-but-also-not-new-label punched into paper. He’d tattoo it--if it weren’t Christmas Eve--the first marking of something that makes him more than just Jada’s boyfriend, or her fiance, but that makes him family in such a tangible way that he knows he wants to frame it. Carry it with him everywhere. 

I think I’m literally gonna cry, he texts into the group chat and then snaps a photo of the two tickets. Vicky made ‘em. 

The sisters’ have spoken. You’re officially not going anywhere, Ashton replies. That’s huge, dude! Calum did tell them about Tasha’s comment after the performance and he vaguely mentioned that he was looking at rings. But he hadn’t quite told them how permanent such action was going to be. 

It’s cute, Luke returns. Frame it?

Whoa, dude. Don’t freak, but I think they like you, Michael replies. 

If he said, he’s going to cry, he’s already freaking out, Luke interjects. 

I am not freaking out, Calum texts back. It’s sweet as hell though. 

A new text buzzes his phone and Calum taps on the banner as it appears. He notices it’s from Ashton, Do you have a ring yet?

Working on it. Serenity and Tasha and I went out a couple days ago to look. 

I started browsing at these. Let me know if they’re any good. The designer’s based in Vegas. So I wonder if you might be able to meet up after Christmas before you leave?

Calum clicks on the link and it opens up in his Instagram app. He waits for it to load. When the post burst to life fully loaded, a thin gold band with a small v shaped to it greets him and matching it as a rhombus shaped gray and white diamond stares back at him. And she needs it--or maybe he needs it. But all he knows is that, it’s the ring. He checks the size and when the number 8 stares back up at him, he almost shouts, almost hollers out his enthusiasm, but swallows it back down. Tapping the arrow, he shares the link with Serenity and Tasha in their group chat. I am DMing the designer right now. 

Once the text message is sent, he goes back to the designer’s Instagram page and asks if the ring is still available and if so, how could someone in town pick it up. He prays it is. And he knows he won’t get an answer until Monday at the earliest. With Jada and him leaving on Thursday, he’s hoping for a miracle in all honesty. He goes back through the posts, trying to see if the person made any statement about being closed during the holidays because he’d hate to disturb them and more than anything he’d hate to get so hung up on this ring and it not even be available anymore. 

Holy fucking smokes, I hope you can snag it, Serenity returns and when Calum looks up across the way to her, she’s fanning herself. Tasha slides out of the kitchen into his view, pointing at her phone. Her eyes are wide. 

His phone buzzes with a new message, If she doesn’t marry you, can I? Calum can’t hold back his laughter and covers his mouth to muffle the sound. He should be worried about the rest of the room worrying about what has him laughing and how he’s going to lie through this one. But all he can do is let his laughter consume. 

Another text shakes his phone, I don’t know why you’re laughing. That’s a serious offer. All it does is make him laugh harder.

______________

You’re lucky. Calum exhales on the thought. You’re lucky, the designer said in their message to Calum. They’d messaged him on Christmas that the ring was still available, seeing as they paused their website starting on the 20th of the month. But they just had a gut feeling to check their messages and his was right on top, like every angel existing in this plane was trying to give him a shot. You’re lucky. 

You’re lucky I’m a sucker when it comes to love. I’ll message you on Monday with a password to enter the website. For shipping, select pick up and DM with the order number. We’ll talk from there about meeting up! Enjoy your holidays! 

If Calum had been in any position to cry, he would’ve. And even though, Jada was already awake and getting ready to head downstairs, he did fucking cry. He cried more than he had even anticipated until he could feel the emotion shaking him. He would’ve cried more openly if he had been in any position to, is more accurate. But the relief that flooded him felt like a release, like finally things were starting to look up. Not that they were ever looking down, but he had a plan and he needed it to go off without a hitch at the very least. And it would’ve worked with or without a ring, but it mattered to Calum that he had the ring. 

Calum stares down at the screen of his phone. You’re lucky I’m a sucker when it comes to love. It’s burned into his retinas, every blink, every article of clothing that he looks at holds the message front and center. He was lucky to be a sucker in love. “Should I go blue or red?” Vicky asks, holding two shirts up. 

Calum smiles. “That is a tough call. How much blue do you have in your closet?”

“Not a lot. It’s Jada’s color,” she returns. 

“Jada’s color?”

“I don’t know--she wears it alot.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t wear it.”

“Okay, true,” Vicky reluctantly agrees. “But that doesn’t help the issue, which is what color do I choose?”

“Which color do you like the best?” Calum asks, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jacket. Both shirts are almost exactly the same. The red has gold lettering whereas the blue has silver. But they’re the same cut and style. 

“Blue.”

“Then I think you should get blue,��� Calum states. He holds out his hand to add it to the pile Vicky’s been making. 

“But the red one is also pretty,” she huffs. 

“You said you like the blue one the best. You can have two of the same shirts, but only if you’re actually going to wear both.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Vicky thrusts out the blue shirt to Calum and hangs the red one back onto the rack a couple feet from him. 

“Vicky, if I can’t see you, you can’t see me,” Jada’s voice cuts over the speakers still playing the last trickles of Christmas music. 

“With Calum!” she shouts back. Calum raises his hand to signal where he is. He ducked over in front of the dressing room to wait on Destini who wanted to try on some jeans she wanted first. Vicky was supposed to stay with Jada, but as he sees now, she’s drifted. 

“You were supposed to stay with your sister, you know,” Calum says. 

“I saw something I liked,” Vicky defends. 

Calum nods and when a hand lands on his shoulder, the telltale sign of Jada running her nails along his neck, he lowers his hands. “But it’s important that you stay close to her.”

“I know.” Vicky looks up. “Sorry, Jada. I saw something and just went for it.”

“Just as long as you’re safe,” she returns and then glances down into the hallway that leads to the dressing rooms. “Destini still in there?”

Calum nods. “Unless she’s somehow escaped into the vents and is halfway to another store by now.”

Jada chuckles slightly, giving one last scratch with her nails and then steps forward. Jada knows it shouldn’t take 15 minutes to try on some jeans. Not even she takes that long unless she has to completely undress due to her original outfit. But Destini only had some jeans on, a t-shirt, and sneakers. “Des, you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” comes the return. Looking at the bottom of the stalls, Jada looks for the pink socks she saw Destini wearing before they left the house. And in the second to last stall, she can see someone sitting on the floor, knees most likely hugged to their chest. 

“Destini, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” It sounds croaky and it’s everything Jada needs to hear to know that it’s far from nothing. 

Jada sighs, one hand poised to pull back the curtain but she stops. “It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“The pants don’t fit.” Destini’s voice cracks as the sentence leaves her throat. 

“Can I come in?” Jada asks. There’s silence and Jada knows she should really wait for an answer to enter, make sure Destini is dressed, but she’s not always been a patient soul. “I’m giving you a minute to get decent and then I’m coming in.”

The curtain billows a little, a few seconds later, and Jada takes it as a sign to enter. Destini’s still curled up in the corner of the dressing room, the jeans she wanted hanger on the left. “So these jeans don’t fit?”

Destini shakes her head. Her cheeks and under eyes are swollen from the tears she shed. 

“Is this a brand you’ve bought from before?”

Destini gives a nod and Jada exhales before kneeling on the carpet across from her sister. “Can you tell me why you’re crying?”

“I’ve always been that size. Always. Now they don’t fit. More and more is just barely fitting in my closet. And I don’t know what to do.”

They weren’t one to just suddenly gain weight, genetically speaking. And Jada knows being at home is stressful in any right. So she doesn’t want to start there with home though it would be smart. Vicky hadn’t seemed to gain much weight--or at least nothing extremely noticeable or out of the ordinary given her age. Serenity and Tasha could mostly take care of themselves and were controlling their diet more than Vicky or Destini could. Or at least what Jada assumed. But she’ll ask just in case. “Has anything changed at home? Or school? More stress?”

Destini shakes her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Well, okay, is there anything that is out of the ordinary? Have you been on any new medications? Or did something happen at school, and it only has to be like once, but is there anything strange? Sometimes we just gain weight. But it’s not a bad thing, if it just happens. We can do stuff about it.”

“I st-started birth-birth control. The doctors said it would help with my periods. But I feel like I’m turning into a whale. I hate it. I thought it was just my pants at home. But God--I don’t want this!”

Jada opens her arms, switching her position so her butt in direct contact with the ground. There it is. “It can happen with birth control. It happened to me. Are you doing shots?”

Destini crawls into her sister’s arms but nods. “I-I wasn’t sure if I could do the pills.”

“Is it helping? With your periods?”

“A little. I started maybe three months ago with my first shot. Like two weeks and some change?”

Jada kisses the top of Destini’s head. “Weight gain is pretty common on the shots. But you’re not a whale, sweetheart. It’s just the shots. It’s okay. When do you go back to the doctor for your next one?”

“Next week.”

“Tell Ma about the weight gain and tell her that you want to try something else--see if you can call before the appointment in case they want to get you in earlier. The doctor’s probably going to fuss, but if you really, really don’t like this, then you can fight it. Tell them you want the pills and then you and I can put an alarm on your phone once you pick up your first pack and I’ll do my best to remind you. But you don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t like what it’s doing to your body.”

“I really hate it, sis. I hate it so fucking much.”

Jada runs her hands over Destini’s back. “Then don’t do it, love. Do not fucking do anything you hate, you hear me. Not a single thing. Did you stop track because of your periods?”

“I-I had to. I couldn’t make meets.”

“Hmm, I’m so sorry. I hope your doctor listens and you can get on the pills. I hope you can get back to track soon.”

Destini clings to Jada, face pressed so deeply into the sweatshirt that Jada can feel the contours of Destini’s nose and face along the bumps of her collarbones. But Jada doesn’t move. She hums, hand sliding up and down Destini’s back. 

“You’re never alone, Destini. Never,” Jada states after a few minutes of silence. “C’mon. Let’s get your shoes on. And we can go somewhere else. We can say fuck you to the jeans and to the shots and we can do literally anything else.”

“I really don’t want to shop for clothes anymore at least.”

“Okay, then we don’t have to. Hang with me and we can do whatever it is that you do want to do.”

Destini nods. Both girls stay on the floor as Destini gets her shoes back on, but when Jada does stand, she snatches the jean from the wall as Destini grabs her purse. Jada ushers her out, dropping the jeans over the rack in the fitting rooms for clothes discarded. “We’re going to sit outside while you two finish up,” Jada states and Calum merely nods. 

Calum and Vicky watch as the two girls leave the store. “What happened?” Vicky asks. 

“I have no clue. But let’s try to make this last walk around quick?” Calum asks, gathering the hangers Vicky’s accumulated. 

Vicky nods. “I just need to do one last look through my pile.”

Calum holds each item up individually for Vicky to look at it. She makes her final judgment, yes or return, rather quickly and with the yes’ finalized, the two make it to the register. Vicky goes to reach for her gift card Paul gave her for the store, but Calum stops her. “I got you.”

“But I have--”

“I know what you got. I was there. Save it. For another time. Your birthday or something.”

He gave each of the sister’s small things, with Jada’s guidance: a purse for Vicky that she’d been wanting to save up for and an entire book series for Destini. Tasha and Serenity were harder--Jada knew what they liked, but trying to make sure it felt appropriate from Calum was the hard part. When Tasha mentioned her older Keurig breaking, Jada swooped in and sent a link to Calum. He was quick to snag it up. Serenity seemed the most impossible. She played everything close to the cuff. But Jada knew about a few tattoos she’d been planning to get, very much against their mother’s wishes. However, Jada had sort of broken the seal on that with her whopping ten. There was very little resistance from Roslyn, though she always put up the fight. Once Jada finally managed to get the name of the shop, she texted Calum. He had gone to Vegas a couple months earlier to play a festival and snagged a gift certificate. 

But just because he’d done that, didn’t mean he couldn’t also do this. The three shirts and skirt total cost no more than fifty dollars. There was no way he was going to have Vicky use every dime of her giftcard on such a small collection. He takes the bag from the cashier with a smile and then reaches out for Vicky’s hand. “If you get another one for your birthday, you can come back and get a lot more stuff then,” he offers to Vicky. 

She grins. “I like the way you think, Calum. Excellent.”

Jada stands facing the store and Destini’s tucked into her side. The dressing room. The lack of Destini’s jeans. Calum doesn’t dare try to push it, but when he closes in with Vicky at his side, he softly asks, “Shoe store next?”

Jada looks at Destini. “If you find those platform boots, you want, I’ll pay for them and even help sneak them into the house.”

There’s a small tuft of laughter that Destini releases. “Yeah, shoe store next. And I think now that Serenity has money for tattoos, I think I’m getting the easier end of the deal.”

“I don’t think I have any legs to stand on,” Calum laughs. “For either having tattoos or encouraging them.”

“I want one!” Vicky adds on as the four of them start in the direction of the store. 

“When you get older,” Jada returns, one arm slung over Destini’s shoulder. Calum checks his watch, new thanks to Jada’s Christmas present, for the time and there’s still a little less than three hours left on the deal he made with Serenity and Tasha. But he knows he can’t go back on it, though he wonders if he can make an exception due to the ordeal with Destini. 

Vicky sticks close by, but Destini makes a beeline for the boots and Calum, gently as he can, tugs on Jada’s arm. “Is Destini okay?” he asks. 

“I hope she is soon. Jeans didn’t fit and she’s just having a bit of a rough time right now.”

Calum wants to say that they could’ve always gone up a size, but he doesn’t let that thought cross his lips. It’s probably not that simple of a problem. “Okay. Let me know how to divert if it comes up.”

“I will,” Jada smiles and kisses his cheek before crossing the store to Destini. 

“Okay, direct the way,” Calum states to Vicky. 

“Heels!” she cheers. 

“Are-are you even allowed?” he asks, following behind her. 

“I can look but I’d have to ask Ma before getting any of them.” She looks over the walls, pointing to the ones with the highest heel that Calum’s ever seen. He doubts it’s the highest ever, but his eyes definitely widen when he sees them.

“I just got your parents good graces, I am not immediately trying to lose them,” Calum laughs. 

The shoe store sucks away an hour and a half. By the time Calum can get Vicky away from the heels, looking at shoes more her speed, he notices that half an hour as gone by. And more time slips away too when Vicky demands that he also looks at shoes for himself. And Calum doesn’t even want new shoes. But he doesn’t dare refute her request. Calum asks which ones she likes for him and watches the determination cross her face. 

“You’re entrusting me with a lot,” Vicky finally speaks. 

“I have no doubt you’ll steer me wrong.”

When her first pick is a pair bright orange Nike’s, Calum does have one fear and it’s not being able to get out of buying new shoes for himself as Vicky’s insistence. But her smile cracks through soon and she puts the shoe back onto the display. “I’m kidding. Well, maybe only a little bit.”

“That’s what I was waiting on,” Calum laughs, following behind. Somehow he winds up holding onto a box of Vans that he knows he has no business holding onto. But he needs Vicky to get distracted by something before he can put it back. And when Vicky notices some sparkly flats, Calum slips the box back into their spot and follows behind her. 

“I love them,” she whispers. 

“How have you ever worn platforms this high ever?” Calum turns to the voice, noticing Destini standing high in some ankle high boots. 

Jada’s at her side and laughs before speaking, “Just think murder. You can walk and kill a man and that’s how you walk in them.”

“Yeah, I think I firmly believe in my feet staying as close to the ground as possible. Oh no.”

“Calum, we need to walk away before I’m unable to say no to myself,” Vicky states. 

“Okay, we are walking away, we are walking away. Let’s see if we can convince Destini to get those boots.” 

The attempts to find boots are unsuccessful, though Destini does snag a pair of cow print heels. Jada called them something more specific, but Calum only half heard as he tried to steer Vicky past the glitter flats that she saw earlier. “We’ll meet someday,” she whispers as they walk through and Calum wishes he could have captured the agony in her voice to do it justice in any future retellings. 

“One day,” he adds on, attempting to validate her feelings. 

The drive back to the house feels shorter than Calum remembers it being, but they still end up taking the full thirty minutes to get back. Just as Vicky steps through the door, she’s greeted with the smell of lemon. “Is that lemon cake I smell?”

“None until you eat dinner,” Roslyn hollers in return. 

Jada notices the good plates are out and stops just before ascending the stairs. She hands the bag to Destini, anyways so she can take the mules and hopefully no one’s the wiser. “What’s the good plates for?” Jada asks. 

“Just go get cleaned up,” is her mother’s return. But just behind her mother is a plate of pork chops, which are Jada’s favorite, and she only really knows it because of the smell permeating the house. Not that she’d ever tell anyone that was the dish she coveted more than anything. Jada steps down one step and starts for the kitchen. The closer she gets the more all her favorites fill out in front of her. She’s not sure why she didn’t anticipate this sooner. But somehow, maybe to all the wishing, she wanted to fade away. Be there, be a participant, but not be so central. Yet it was staring her in the face. 

“Who all this for, Ma?”

“Go get cleaned up.”

“Ma.”

“Jada.”

The two women give each other stern looks, both with lips pursed: silently telling the other to give in first. Neither one does for a moment. But Jada knows she can hold out longer than her mother. “It’s for you, Jada, alright? Now go get cleaned up. We’re almost done,” Roslyn sighs. 

“You don’t have to do this. All this effort,” Jada states. 

“For you, I absolutely do. And I’m happy too.” There’s a beat. Jada goes to protest, try to tell her mother she doesn’t need anything. But Roslyn beats her to the words. “I love you. Let people do stuff because they care, sweetheart. Now go, get cleaned up. Your pork chops are waiting and getting cold.”

“I know something else is getting cold--them greens you not stirring.” Jada and Roslyn share a quick tuft of laughter before Jada kisses Roslyn’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Of course, lovebug. Be sure to tell Calum this new cast iron is getting a proper christening.”

Jada giggles. Only her mother. “I will reword the message but pass it along.”

________________

Calum settles back into the seat of his SUV. With Jada helping Roslyn with both Destini and Vicky’s hair, he manages to slip out of the house without any problems. “Let me see!” Serenity gushes. She agreed to come with Calum--as she roughly wears the same size ring as Jada and also because he feared not having someone else with him during this transaction. The ring itself was easy to get on one end of. When his phone chimed with an Instagram DM, he immediately opened it and found the password for the website. With zero hesitation, he ordered the ring and sent the appropriate information back to the designer. 

It was the actual meeting and physically holding the ring that Calum feared. So when he put in the thread with Serenity and Tasha that he’d paid for the ring, he hoped desperately one of them would volunteer to come along. He didn’t have to hope for too long because Serenity’s response was her eagerness to go with him. 

“You’ve seen it thirty times now,” he teases, but hands the box back to her. He watches the rock sparkle just as catches the sunlight. 

“And I can see it thirty one times if I want too.”

“You think she’s going to like it?” It’s only now that it’s real and in his possession that he worries about it not being right. What if Jada hated it? He hadn’t always had a great eye for her taste. He’d attempted to go shopping with and for her. She’s eclectic to say the least--sweatpants and a hoodie one day to flare jeans and docs the next. And it wasn’t necessarily a problem, as it was a hurdle. If he were throwing darts on a board to find a label for her style, he’d miss a thousand percent of the time. 

This is not a time he could miss. 

“Calum, she’s going to fucking love it. But if you’re going to do this tonight, then I need to raid her duffel bag the second we get home.”

“I feel insane. Two days from Christmas--still needing to figure out what to do with my parents and my friends. She wants kids and she has good reason for wanting them sooner but I’m fucking scared.” He shouldn’t divulge. But it’s a lot. He knows he knows he wants this but there’s a lot of variables. Maybe too many variables. 

Serenity nods. “You got anyone to talk to? Or do you really want my perspective?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t unload.”

“No, you can unload. I just want to make sure we’re both clear on the boundaries.”

Pausing on his way to turn over the key, Calum reclines into the seat. “You’re a sister. That feels like crossing a line.”

“Just--just hear me out. Whatever you need to work out, you need to work out. Do you know how easy it is to get married in Vegas?”

“It can take less than a day.”

“Exactly. Less than a fucking day. Flip this dinner around. Make it a proposal. Come back in the new year. Whenever, dude. Either way you get to marry the girl of your dreams and it’s a healthy relationship. The fucking thing neither one of you needs is to rush into this too fast with shit y’all need to work out and not having a plan on how to work it out. No sense is that.”

After the holidays, I think I can have the brain for it. Maybe both of them need the brains for it.  Calum starts the SUV. “Text your mother. Change of plans. Proposal.”

“That also calls for an outfit change. I have to rethink my whole plan now.”

“Do what you must,” Calum laughs. 

As they pull out onto the street, Calum feels slightly disappointed. But he needs this to be done clear-headed, all their dirty laundry on the table. That’s the thing he needs from all of this. He loves Jada--there’s no doubting that. But he doesn’t want to make any mistakes in this or as few of them as possible. 

______________

Something bright reflects off the high noon sun and Calum glances just briefly to his right. Jada reclines back into the passenger side seat. Left hand adjusting the volume on the radio. The solitaire ring, with the rhombus shaped diamond, rests there, on her hand, catching the light of the day. Only three months have passed but the western coast hardly shows if any time has passed around them. It’s the same old road, same sun beaming brightly around them. The same four hour drive that they’re almost two hours into.

 “I already know this is the way to take to my parents’ so I don’t know why you’re trying to be all secretive. If we’re going to see my parents, you can just say that.”

The highway’s an endless stretch in front of them. Calum smiles at the thinly veiled frustration. Reaching out for her knee, Calum turns back to the asphalt. But he offers nothing else. It’s not even out of fear--he can’t really spoil this. His dress pants already hint at too much. But he wants to try to make this as much of a surprise as possible. “Are you hungry?” he asks as the song changes. “Our favorite gas station is coming up in a few.”

“I do want some more water, if that’s okay.”

“Nah, I’m going to dehydrate you on a four hour drive,” he laughs, but squeezes at her knee. “Yeah, we can stop over and get a few things.”

“Did you coordinate with Ma? You know I can get just about any information out of her,” Jada states. Calum wasn’t budging. He told her to wear something nice, to which she obliged with her green skater dress. But he hadn’t given much else. And not that Jada didn’t think it was going to be a bad thing, but the anticipation was slowly killing her. 

“You know the therapist said that it’s bad to hold secrets,” Jada tries again. 

“I think that’s a low blow play to get more information.”

The ‘I’ statement deflection--a classic move. And it always worked. It let her know that her attempts were noticed but that she’d still tried to get said information in an unfair way. “It was,” Jada returns. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Calum signals for this turn and takes it easy before pulling into a spot along the front of the store. “How about I give you a hint?”

Jada nods, turning in her seat. “I’m listening.”

“You’ll need your driver’s license.” It’s all he says before opening the door to the truck and slipping out. 

Jada stares at the space he once occupied and huffs. “I can need my license for fifty thousand different things.”

“I’ll give you another hint once we hit hour three of the drive,” Calum says from her side of the vehicle now. “And then you’ll get the last hint at hour four.”

It’s something--not nearly enough as something like a full reveal, but Jada decides maybe she should take it. “Okay,” she says, taking his hand and stepping down. Over the speakers of the gas station, a hypnotic beat plays. It’s clear the song is way too bass heavy for the speakers this place has, but the rattle continues on and the attendant at the register doesn’t seem too phased by it. They nod at Calum and Jada and then glance back to their phone before continuing the restock of the counter displays. 

Calum watches as Jada bounces down the aisle to the song towards the fridges lining the back of the store. Time slows again, hanging somewhere between him and the attendant because he thinks the only thing she’s missing is a bag of Takis and the debate on whether or not to get a honeybun as well. The shakes start back up in his hand. When he initially asked her to bring a few day’s worth of clothes and to dress nice, the day before their departure, he was nervous. He thought the tremors racking him would plague him forever. But this morning, he felt food. But now he’s two hours out from doing the thing that just three months ago seemed like it would take forever to get too. 

“No snacks?” Jada asks, shimmying just a little in the aisle as the song continues overhead. 

“Oh, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Calum nods. “Anything else?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, I’m all set.”

The check out is fast and Calum’s wishes he’d said he wanted to look around. He wishes she’d wanted more time. But with the promise of two more hints looming, it makes sense that Jada wouldn’t take too much more time into the trip. So Calum climbs back into the driver seat. There was only so much stalling he could do. His phone shakes just as he buckles back into the seat. We’re about an hour and a half out from the address, it’s from Luke. Which meant either Ashtor or Michael was driving and given the circumstances, it was Ashton. Calum nods and drafts a quick reply before sending it. 

Jada hates not knowing. And if she ranks the things she hates, not knowing would be number one or number two. It was really a toss up between not knowing and having to hunt down the socks that Calum almost seemed to lose just one in the pair because he was never careful about making sure both socks made it into the laundry bin. And it’s a silly thing to hate but it’s happened so many times now, that Jada almost wanted to attach a net to the damn basket and keep all socks from falling into any potential crevices. 

Calum watches the clock, the minutes tick by faster than he’d like them too but he knows there’s a schedule that they’d need to follow as much as possible. Luke, Michael, and Ashton had a half hour start to get to Roslyn’s and Paul’s to drive with them to the court system and also help out should anyone need it. For the simplicity of this, it didn’t seem likely, but Calum wanted that half hour cushion in case anyone one did need the buffer. He had learned the wisdom in having and not needing something, especially time in pressing situations, against needing and not having it. 

When hour three ticks by, Calum exhales. He can feel the piercing gaze of Jada. “This thing is sometimes associated with a celebrity.”

The huff Jada gives is enough that Calum knows it’s vague enough to mean too many things. So his secret is safe for a little bit longer. “Calum, you absolutely suck at giving hints.”

“I think it’s pretty good all things considering.”

The suck of Jada’s teeth lets him know she is not amused. “Requires my driver’s license and is something associated with a celebrity,” she whispers. 

When she starts rapping her fingers over the dash in front of her, Calum fears she’s going to absentmindedly pop the glove box. She can’t do that--if she does that, everything’s ruined. And they’re so close to having anything ruined. But she draws her hand back rather quickly and shakes the fist at the ceiling of the truck. Calum exhales a little. Then she snaps her fingers. “Strip club!” And just as fast the idea hits her, she seems to rescind it. “Nah, I said I was going to show you around. You don’t know the places that I do.”

“You don’t know that I don’t know the places that you know.”

Jada laughs. “I do know that you don’t know the places that I know.”

“That’s a lot of knowing,” Calum returns, “from someone that absolutely doesn’t know if I don’t know the places that they know.”

“Well played sir, well played. But am I right?” And as the question leaves her lips, she can see the thought toying on Calum’s brain. If he should play nice or not. But he shakes his head to signal a no soon enough that Jada takes it as a real response. “Seriously? Not a strip club?”

“Not strip clubs. Though, we can add it to the list.”

“With the places that I know, I think we should.”

“Aye, we’re not doing that again,” Calum laughs. “I just barely kept up the first time.”

“Hmm, I’m going to figure this out, Hood.” Jada tosses out a few ideas before giving up and deciding to wait for the final hint. As they enter more deeply into the city, and away from the neighborhoods, Calum’s sure it’ll become obvious before he can give the last hint. But when he hears no gasp from Jada, or snap of her fingers, Calum turns to see Jada lulled into sleep. A saving grace, he figures, is her ability to fall asleep on car rides. And he’ll take it right now, he’ll take whatever he gets. 

He spies Michael’s car on the street and wonders if he was wrong about who drove. But when right behind it, he can spot Serenity and Roslyn, he knows that all his time is up. He finds a spot and undoes his belt. He’s gentle as he shakes Jada’s shoulder. She hums, “Why is the car stopped?”

“Because we made it. And you get your last hint.”

At the reminder of the hint, Jada cracks open her eyes. “Which is?”

“This is one of the final moments where we can debate on whether or not, we even care about last names.”

Jada completely sits up. Though he doesn’t think the sleep was ever too deep, she looks like an angry toddler almost due to the way the confusion scrunches up her face and the last bit of sleep still lingering about. “Last names.”

“Hint 3A, check the glovebox.”

Jada undoes her seatbelt, unsure of what in God’s name Calum’s been planning and when she turns to see a courthouse, she whips around in her seat. “Calum Thomas Hood.”

“Or potentially Calum Thomas Miller, but that’s still a debate.”

Jada cracks open the glovebox and the box with Calum’s wedding band stares back up at her. She’d eventually caved and told him about it. Something she suspected she’d do a lot sooner than she actually did, but only by a week. And they kept both boxes buried in the back of the underwear drawer. It was silly, considering they both knew they were there, and what they were for, but Jada didn’t want to hide her truth--that she knew no matter what they had to do-- be it month three of couple’s counseling of the six months they agreed to undergo, or even being open about own fears about fertility-- she was going to marry Calum. 

“This is not what I think it is,” she whispers. 

“If you want it today, then it absolutely can be. There’s no waiting period in Vegas--like you said. We get this license and we can be at the chapel in a couple hours. Where there may or may not be an Elvis Presely impersonator waiting with Can’t Help Falling In Love to serenade you. But the only condition is that you have to promise not to go off and marry them instead.”

Jada pulls down the passenger side mirror, fluffs out the braid out. Her light makeup stayed well enough even with her nap and she turns back to Calum. “No promises about Elvis,” she states with a wink. 

Calum laughs, one hand covering his mouth because of course--of course Jada would say that. “Those are chances I’m willing to take then.”

“Oh my god, Calum!” Jada starts, falling into the seat. 

He freezes, his door partially opened. The thudding of his heart echoes in his eardrums. “What? What happened?”

“I need my driver’s license for the marriage license and Elvis impersonators at the fucking chapel! Those are pretty damn clever hints, babe.”

The fear subsides just enough. “I’m glad you think so.”

Inside the building, time drags on. It’s an hour to get to an available clerk but once they do, the paper work isn’t terribly hard. Though Calum does have to make sure he has his mother’s maiden name correct before handing over the forms. It feels embarrassing to have to call her, but he knows it’s important--as few mistakes as possible. At the new name section, both Calum and Jada pause. Jada really doesn’t mind changing her last name--as much as she liked to joke that not doing it would make life easier, it would be one of the few things that always linked her to him. 

Jada places her pen down. “You know, being a Hood wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” she offers. 

“Why phrase it like that? Not such a bad idea? Trying to tell me something?” he teases. He sees the big note on the form that even if she does put down Hood, she’d still have to change it legally through whatever process L.A. has set. But maybe it’s just meant to be more symbolic than anything. 

Jada doesn’t say anything as she writes down her full name and adds Calum’s last name to the form. Maybe she is trying to tell him something. And maybe she’s not. Maybe it’s just pure desire to be his in as many ways as possible. But whatever it is, Jada continues on, writing in the mailing address and then reviewing all sections and pages of the form to make sure no errors are in the spelling of their names. 

She hands the clipboard back over to him. “Double check me.”

Calum reads over the basics--name, date of birth, social security numbers--and finds no errors. He flips another page over and stops again. “You know this doesn’t legally change your name.”

Jada nods. “I know.”

“Have I told you I loved you yet today?”

“This morning.”

“Shame on me for not saying it again since then. Because I do, I love you.”

“I love you.”

With license in hand, Calum and Jada hurry back down the steps of the building. And it’s only during the descent, when she spots what looks like Michael in the front seat of his Tesla. She lets Calum’s montemum take her down but once on the sidewalk, she follows the line of cars down and spots Serenity and then Paul in the driver's side of their cars. “Babe--why are like almost all of our families here?”

“You do need a witness,” Calum returns. “And there were a lot of plus one’s.” 

“But Joy and David?”

“Let’s just say the plan for a vow renewal and reception in about a year is non-negotiable at this point. I tried to get them out, but the timing was still a little rough. Some things couldn’t be missed on Mum’s end.”

“We’ll need something in the off season then, which feels incredibly hard to have an off season in Vegas.”

Calum nods, and tugs on her hand to keep her closer. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure Mum will be happy to get out of Australia right on the cusp of winter.”

“Or, destination renewal in Australia?”

“My dear, that’s a hell of a flight. We can keep thinking about it, yeah? But chapel, Elvis, you possibly becoming my run-away bride?”

Jada steps in, patting his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, I think I should warn Elvis about you though.” 

Jada crosses the street as she laughs and stops at Michael’s door. “So which one of you is going to catch the bouquet today?”

“I’m betting on Luke,” Ashton calls from the back of the seat. “You rocking and rolling?”

“We have a license to marry, hot stuff. No worries. Thanks for being here, for Calum.”

“He’s our brother. We’d follow just about any crazy idea he had,” Michael returns. “Besides, it’s you, Jada. If he didn’t marry you, I think we all agreed collectively to kick his ass.”

Jada gives one last passing piece of gratitude before waving at her family in their cars. But she knows there’s no time like the present so she crosses the street again, finding Calum leaning up against the side of the truck. His arms are folded to his chest. “You look like you got somewhere to be,” she teases. 

“I might have a hot date at a chapel,” he grins. 

It’s not too long of a drive to the chapel and it’s only as Jada sees Destini and Vicky stepping out of the car that she worries if she was taking something away from them. But she knows it’s that nagging voice, the one that made her feel like she was supposed to be setting the example for her sisters. And hell, even if that voice never shut up, why couldn’t the example she set for them tell them that they do whatever it was that made them happy. Even if it wasn't traditional, it was their life to live and theirs alone. They should choose how they want to live it. 

Jada could choose how she wanted to live her life and she wants Calum. She wants it like this, in a green dress, and a chapel with an Elvis impersonator. And it’s messy, if she ever had it cleaner, it wouldn’t be Jada. The vows are traditional and she makes a mental note that when they renew, she wants new ones. And maybe every so often, she’d go back and tweak them. Because if she learned anything from her four year stint in individual counseling and now couple’s counseling, it was all about tweaking. You changed a little bit here and they changed a little bit there. And it wasn’t about monumental waves. They only need to be sustainable. 

Jada had to be able to sustain Calum and Calum had to be able to sustain Jada and it didn’t always happen in a massive wave. It happened like the lapping of the sea at the shoreline. It was steady and sure it changed here and there, but it eventually returned back to it’s normal. That’s what she needed and that’s what she feels like she has, a steady with Calum. Even though his job is demanding, he came back. Even though she irked his nerve, and he irked hers, they always had a certain level of steady that they could return to. Like tides on the shoreline--never gone completely, maybe a little changed at time, but always present. 

“I, Calum Hood, take you, Jada Miller, to be my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”

Like tides against the shoreline. Like the chocolate that melted into everything. 

“I, Jada Miller, take you, Calum Hood, to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”

Like tides against the shoreline. Like the chocolate that melted into everything. 

“With the power invested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Calum takes a beat. Trying to study the glint in her eyes--not something sad, not something bad. A realization. And he knows that look. One he’s seen her give when she’s working, or reading and everything seems to click into place much like she expected it too. He knows then too--it is all clicking into place. 

Their kiss is short. Calum’s almost too scared that when he opens his eyes, everything around him is going to drift away. “I--Is this all real?” he asks against her lips. 

Jada laughs, hands going to cup his jaw. “Yeah, baby, it’s real.”

A clicking into place. His eyes are slow to open and she’s still standing there. The chapel’s alive with noise. He can catch the distinct whistle Ashton gives and the sobs of Roslyn. And it’s so fucking real--it almost hurts his cheeks with how hard he’s smiling. 

They descend the steps and just faintly over the noise, a voice starts to sing. And he couldn’t help this. She couldn’t help any of this. 

A clicking into place. 

The tides lapping at the shore. 

The chocolate that melts into everything. 

They’d eventually be powerless to it. Fighting fate would have exhausted them. Giving in at some point becomes life saving. 

__________________

The light on the door lights up green and the mechanisms click. He steps into the room first. The lights from the strip and city below cast a neon glow into the room. Calum steps aside after getting the lights on. His chest heaves just a little and given the smear of Jada’s lipstick, he knows his chin is also sporting a vaguely dark brown hue as well. The two of them are no strangers to the heavy petting in an elevator or sneaking touches. But the more Calum sees the band now resting beneath her engagement ring, the more he pictures the amount of unheavenly things he wants to do to her. 

“You do know the elevator is monitored,” Calum teases, stepping away from the door and it closes with a particular rough thud. 

Jada casts her gaze down to his left hand, sporting the dazzling platinum band she slipped on just a few hours ago. Her husband--and even though the phrase hadn’t actually crossed her lips verbally, the mere thought made her panties a little damp. “Do you think the front desk accepts apologies in the form of fruit baskets?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

For a moment, they almost circle each other. Calum steps in to get to the bed and slips out of the dress shoes and Jada watches the moment carefully from above. She moves to lean against the A/C unit, arms folded to her chest. “No,” Calum laughs, after dropping the second shoe to the floor.  

“I haven’t said anything,” Jada returns. 

“But I can read your mind. My knees aren’t built for how fucking thin and hard these floors are. So bring your cute ass to this bed.”

“I’m not the one that did the punk jumps for almost ten years.”

“You’re not. But I think if you want your husband to remain in good shape, you’ll spare him just this once.”

And there’s that phrase again. Jada clenches at the sound of it. “Say that again.” She pushes up off the unit and starts towards Calum. “Say it one more time for me, please,” she exhales breathlessly. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure which part,” he grins. He knows. He saw the way she nearly came in her underwear just as the phrase of ‘your husband’. But he wants to know what it does to her when she says it, when her lips curl around the letters. He wants to know what it does to him too. 

It’s a small uptick of her brow that Jada gives to indicate the thought before it’s spoken, “I think you know.”

“No, I don’t think I do know.”

Jada straddles Calum’s lap and his hands immediately slip up the skirt of her dress, resting just on the tops of her thighs. But she knows, by the way his fingers grip at her flesh--she knows he needs her to say just as badly as she wants him to say it. “When you called yourself my husband,” she starts whispering in his ear. “I think you should say it again.”

He loves the sound of the phrase from her lips. It sends a shiver down his spine and his body lights with a fire that he didn’t think could be lit. He squeezes down on the flesh of her thighs. “Oh, that phrase,” he exhales against her ear. 

“Yeah that one.”

Calum pulls back just a little. Her eyes are blown wide--and it’s almost impossible to tell iris from a pupil normally, but it’s even harder now. “Whatever my wife wants.”

She lets out a small hum of approval, as if somehow that also scratched the same itch, head falling back on her neck. And maybe it had. Tracing the line of throat with his nose, Calum grins into her skin. Jada guides his head back up and leans in to kiss him. The kiss is eager, but they move slow to savor every drop, every second of each other. Jada could just say here, with Calum holding onto her thighs and the press of his erection into her clothed sex and the smell of him intoxicating her. It’s all she needs. 

But when he nips at her lower lip and she whimpers, pressing down into his crotch, the deep growl Calum releases sends every nerve ending on fire. No, that’s what she needs, she thinks. She needs Calum just as gone as her. Jada kisses across his jaw and down his neck. She pauses to get a good grip on his shirt, fingers tucked inside and she yanks. The buttons pop, a few hitting the wall and TV with distinct plops, but most hit the floor soundlessly. Jada’s quick to kiss down his chest. 

“That was an expensive shirt, love,” he says with a laugh. It wasn’t that expensive, but still a pretty penny. He’s sure buttons can easily be sewn back onto them. So right now it’s not a full loss.  

“It was in my way,” Jada exhales into his skin. 

Calum’s hands, once on her thighs, but had since then gravitated to her ass, smooth around the contours of her body and find the lacy front of her underwear. He gets a solid grip, pulls them from her body to make sure he doesn’t hurt her and gives a yank too. The lace gives with a crackling echo. 

“Those were expensive,” Jada returns. 

“They were in my way.” His fingers find her clit and he circles, firstly gathering up the stickiness of her arousal and then pressing onto the nerves in steady circles. 

Jada hums at the feeling, the way her body warms, and rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Touché.” Her next thought is interrupted by a wave of pleasure. “Fuck,” she whispers. 

Calum removes his hand and gets a tighter grip before standing. They both go up and then Jada’s back down, pressed into the mattress, staring up at Calum. He throws the now ruined shirt off his shoulder and yanks the torn panties down too. He drapes her core with the skirt of the dress. “Let’s get one thing straight, love.”

Jada nods, her signal that she’s listening. 

“I want everything. I want every last orgasm your body can give to me. I want everything. Can you do that? Can you give your husband everything?”

“Everything?” Jada questions. 

She says it so fucking innocently, batting her lashes up at him. Calum bends down, cupping her bare sex under the dress. “Everything.” He slips one finger into her and her back arches, nails digging into the skin and muscle of his bicep. He slips a second one in just as easy as the first and he inhales every exhaled whine and moan Jada gives. “Everything,” he whispers over her lips.

His pace is relentless. Jada’s not sure if she’s seeing straight or if it’s really stars darting her vision, but she knows she’s going to unravel soon. Sheets curled into her fist, she arches up and presses down into Calum’s hand. Her orgam rocks her and she lets out a guttural groan at the release, the snap of the coil in her lower gut. 

“That’s one.”

Jada knows she’s in for a long night when her second and third orgasms crash over her just as Calum’s mouth. But she knows that everything really is everything when it comes to Calum. Clothes are finally fully discarded. And there’s nothing really like pressing chest to chest with Calum for Jada. Not when she’s fully seated on his length and his hands are exploring the dips and valleys of her body. 

Calum digs his heels into the mattress just a little and meets her descent with his own ascension. He can’t look away at the way their bodies meet and he wants to watch her come undone, watch the drop in her jaw and they hazy look in her eyes as she comes. It’s a glorious sight. One he never bored of, no matter how often they made love to each other. He can feel the pressure building, the way his muscles jump and tense as his orgasm rocks ever closer. 

He makes sure Jada orgasms first, adding his thumb to her clit and the spasms of her release tighten around him. “God,” he huffs. The release hits, the dam breaking and he blinks through the orgasm to try and keep his full attention on Jada. And she looks so fucking content atop him, smiling just a little as the back of her hands caress his cheek. 

“I really hope no one can hear us,” she whispers. 

Calum laughs, bringing her down for a kiss before responding, “I really hope everyone can hear us.” Using the position as leverage, he gets her onto her back and settles between her legs. A little bit of his release starts to leak out but he’s quick to use this thumb to press it up and back into her before traveling that digit up to her clit again. 

Her whole body shudders, locking up for a brief moment at the overstimulation. She’s fucked--more than just the actual action--she’s fucked because she’s going to give him everything and she knows tomorrow she’s going to want more. She knows the day after is going to bring more too and all she wants in that moment is to give into every carnal desire too. How is she going to leave any of this behind? And maybe she didn’t have to, she didn’t have to leave it all behind. 

There’s a moment reprieve from the thoughts, from the future, when her fifth orgasm starts to build. Calum’s sporadic work on her clit is just enough and she exhales. “Calum, shit.” Something about it tetters on pain, but right now there’s still a decent amount of pleasure. At every touch and lick, she jostles, writhing in the sheets. 

Lifting her head in the brief pause, she finds Calum smiling up at her. “You’re so fucking smug,” she huffs. “Of course.”

And in response, all she gets is another swirl at her clit that has her dropping her head and grunting again. There’s the ascension and then a plateau, and she thinks she’s hit her wall. That she’s got nothing else. But then Calum spares nothing, tongue and fingers working at every part of her. She falls over the edge, something leaving her throat--though she can’t be sure if it’s a scream or her own imagination of a scream. 

There are those stars again. Behind the tightly shut eyelids, she can see them bursting into bright silver and her body feels like it’s on fire and somehow filled with rocks. Calum’s voice sounds far away, but she can feel something cool and she knows he has to be close. Working to discern the rumble of the A/C from Calum’s voice, she starts to catch onto the words, “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“I think that’s everything,” Jada laughs and it sounds croaky. Maybe she had actually screamed. 

Lips press into her forehead and then are soon chasing down her eyelights and the bridge of her nose before one last kiss is placed onto her lips. “Thank you,” Calum whispers. 

Jada nods, hair bushing over the pillows and she thinks she recollects a bath. There were definitely snacks and water. Calum always makes sure of that after sex, no matter how tame or not too energy consuming it was. The thing that tops it all is his warmth. She looks for that the most. When he crawls into the bed next to her, after the clean up and hassle, she attaches herself to his side. He’s wordless as he readjusts positions and allows her to rest her head onto his chest. “Just listen to my breathing,” he encourages. “Follow my lead.”

And she does. The steady rhythm of his heart in his ribs is just the right lullaby to carry her into sleep. 

Tagging: @villainorigincal​ @5-secondsofcolor​