#and i wonder if black tuesday will make a reappearance....

[radio-4-is-static]

Build It Up – Franz Ferdinand @ The Andrew J Brady Music Center

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 19: Steddie as Dads (Trope Tuesday)

wc: 1.4k | Rated: T for suggestive language and flirtatious banter | cw: Eddie is trans in my Joanie Munson AU and gave birth to Joanie. This fic contains one mention of pregnancy and the possibility of having a baby.

Tags: Steddie Dads, Trans Eddie Munson, Growing Family, Getting Interrupted, Christmas Night, Christmas Presents, Kid Fic

Note: I knew Joanie's Furby would have to make a reappearance after I wrote THIS drabble for Black Friday. Also, I started drafting this fic for Day 3 (Needing to be Quiet) but it ran away from me so it has aspects of that prompt too.

Christmas Night, 1998

“Okay…” Eddie sing-songs, stirring Steve from his very sleepy post-Christmas state on the couch, “Our precious bean is asleep… The old man is in a food-induced coma…”

He skips to the couch and flops down, mussing their makeshift bedding.

“Huh?” Steve mumbles, looking up to find a mischievous grin painted across his partner’s face.

He should have known Eddie was up to something with their sleeping arrangements. He had insisted they spend Christmas Night on Wayne’s couch, giving up the bed in Eddie’s old room to Joanie for the evening.

As Eddie continues grinning like an idiot – and adds a wiggling, suggestive brow for good measure – Steve attempts to smooth out their blankets. He shimmies upright, yawning as he yanks at the corner of the blanket trapped beneath Eddie’s ass.

“Nope!” Eddie says, chopping his hand through the air, “No yawning, sugarplum.”

He dives for the remote teetering on the edge of the coffee table and points it at the television, reducing It’s a Wonderful Life to a quickly fading speck in the middle of the screen.

“Jimmy Stewart, off!” he declares, voice high and nasally in mock impersonation as he tosses the remote to the side.

With the living room lit only by the lights of Wayne’s Christmas tree (decorated the moment they arrived with Joanie), Steve feels his eyes droop.

He scrubs a hand down his tired face, his unstyled hair flopping forward as he does so. Eddie is soon on him, combing it back before picking at individual strands like a monkey looking for fleas.

“How are you not tired?” Steve whines, dipping his head to avoid more prodding.

But Eddie then reaches to remove his glasses.

“Christmas adrenaline, sweetheart,” he explains, carefully folding the glasses and setting them on the coffee table within reach.

Eddie leans back again, elbow propped on the couch, his chin resting against his hand enough that it squishes up his cheek.

“The Furby was a hit,” he continues, his teasing dimples out on full display now.

“Please don’t talk about it,” Steve grumbles, sinking into the couch at the thought of Joanie’s newest toy, now out of the box and operational, ready to wreak havoc.

He can only imagine the reaction the cats will have to those soulless eyes when they get the retched thing back home…

“It’s cute,” Eddie shrugs, not at all innocently picking at the bottom hem of Steve’s flannel button-up, a Munson family relic turned pyjama top.

“It looks like a Gremlin,” he deadpans, “Ready to chew our faces off with that weird robot beak.”

He hopes his frown will also remind Eddie that if said demon-spawn does rise up against them, he can be the one fully responsible for dealing with it. And, now that he thinks about it, Steve is sure Eddie allowing their daughter to watch Gremlins at Halloween surely contributed to her desire to obtain this year’s latest kids' craze.

As they glare at each other, Steve holds onto some hope that Eddie (might) think back to that sleepless Halloween night when Joanie woke up at 2 am in tears and thought Ozzy’s prowling in the shadows was an evil after-midnight Mowgai.

“And where is it now?” Steve asks, breaking their seated stand-off.

“Tucked under the covers with our precious Joanie-Bear,” Eddie says, dramatically closing his eyes with a chirpy hum.

Again – Gremlin!

Steve bites his tongue as Eddie opens his eyes again, those big brown orbs now glowing with mirth like a warmer, more cherubic (but equally devilish) version of their five-year-old’s prized Christmas present.

Eddie clicks his tongue, looking everywhere but directly at Steve as he fidgets with a handful of blankets, entirely conspicuous as he buzzes with clear anticipation.

Steve puffs out a laugh and shakes his head. As always, Eddie has other plans for their ‘quiet’ night in…

“What?” Eddie asks, catching him staring.

He tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy.

“I love you,” Steve replies, leaning into his side.

He looks at the Christmas tree as Eddie presses a featherlight kiss to his forehead.

But the sweet moment only lasts for a split second because, in a flash, Eddie flips back their bedding, the blanket half falling to the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

“Good,” he grins, swinging his leg over Steve’s lap to straddle him, bracketing his legs, “Put a baby in me.”

“Ed!” Steve splutters, frowning as Eddie claps a hand over his mouth to shush him.

“Quiet!” he stage-whispers.

“You be quiet,” Steve warns, smiling into his palm.

“Made you perk up, didn’t it?” Eddie teases, leaning back to look him over and they both giggle away, “Anyway, come on, tick-tick. Christmas miracle, all that shit...”

He hurriedly jabs into his shoulder.

“Need I remind you we are in your uncle’s living room?”

“We’ve done worse,” Eddie offers, raking his eyes over him, “Remember Thanksgiving 1989 when – ”

“ – We boned in Claudia’s powder room,” he finishes, nodding.

Eddie looks off into the distance – or perhaps just right behind them to the wood panelling. He sighs, all wistful and longing.

“Yeah,” he hums, “And you knocked Claudia’s good handtowel straight off the rack and into the toilet…”

Steve leans back and cocks his chin. Well, if Eddie isn’t going to be subtle about it, either...

“Take your pants off, baby.”

Eddie beams and gives a two-finger salute. He quickly begins shuffling about, lifting onto his knees so he can hook his fingers under the waistband of his black sweatpants and pull them down. Meanwhile, Steve lifts their blanket up and out to protect Eddie’s modesty.

Or, at least that’s what he intends to do. Eddie only gets his pants down to his knees when Steve catches Wayne’s bedroom door opening.

Eddie notices too and yelps, plopping back down onto Steve’s lap – hard.

“Don’t mind me,” Wayne says, walking along with the stiff gait of a man with a bad hip (one that he still won’t do a thing about), “Just goin’ to take a leak. My bladder isn’t what it used to be. The older you get, the weaker your bladder...”

“Can you please stop saying the word ‘bladder’!” Eddie squawks over his shoulder, but his uncle simply waves him away.

“I didn’t see nothin’!” Wayne grumbles, “Carry on.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as they both watch in awkward silence as Wayne disappears into the bathroom, a light soon cascading from it.

“Christmas sucks!” Eddie dry-sobs, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder with a disgruntled ‘hmph’.

“Just wait a minute,” he whispers, wrapping the blanket tight around Eddie’s partial nakedness.

Steve moves to give him a reassuring kiss but Eddie gasps, stilling on his lap as his eyes grow wide as saucers.

“What the fuck was that?” he gulps, his voice at full volume.

Eddie jolts again, his hands flying up to grip Steve’s shoulders tight, giving him no choice but to hold onto for dear life – even if he has no clue what’s got him so rattled…

“I can’t hear anything,” Steve says, looking around as his heart quickens.

Eddie scoffs and claws at a lock of his hair, just behind his right ear.

“God damn it, Stevie!” he spits, his head on a swivel as he whips it from side to side, likely looking for Steve’s abandoned hearing aids.

Steve is about to point to the end of the coffee table and thus ignite a squabbling match about it when Wayne reappears from the bathroom.

“What in the heck is that sound?” he grumbles.

“What is it?” Steve demands, looking between the other two.

“Some…” Wayne says, tilting his head in search of the sound, “Machine…”

Steve moves his head about to dodge Eddie as he squirms around in his lap, muttering what he can only assume is a string of expletives as he attempts to search for the noise too without straining his back or exposing himself.

“Damn it, Eddie,” Steve snaps, lifting his partner when he suspects he is about to get kneed straight in the goddamn balls.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’!” Wayne exclaims, bringing a hand to his chest.

Steve finally manages a glance over Eddie’s shoulder to find Joanie standing just inside the living room, her small frame silhouetted by the bathroom light.

She’s holding something with big eyes that appear to be blinking.

Now Steve can hear the robotic snoring sounds that have half the household scared out of their minds.

“Don’t worry, Pa,” Joanie says, stepping forward and holding up her Christmas present, “It’s just my Furby.”

More of Joanie Munson

[lixxen]

Heaven Is Closing Fast on My Fate (Part Two)

This is part two for this fic.

Silly hole man became Miles' teacher.

--

It was a random Tuesday.

Nothing was special or wrong, but Miles felt like throwing up all day.

His senses were crashing over him like waves over a child's sandcastle. Over and over again. It fogged up his brain and he felt like throwing up because of it.

Dr. Ohnn seemed to notice, because he kept looking directly at Miles.

"Miles? Are you okay?" Dr. Ohnn took a step towards Miles.

Miles nodded.

"Yeah. My stomach just hurts." Miles grumbled it out, which had Ganke looking at him.

Ganke did a small hand motion, which was code between the two of them to ask if it was a spider themed situation.

Miles nodded at Ganke, who slowly nodded back.

Miles tried to focus on his work, but it was getting worse. He couldn't see Dr. Ohnn watching him closely from across the room anymore. The edges of his vision were blurring.

Then he heard it.

A loud crashing noise that had the students screaming.

Dr. Ohnn stood up quickly, his head turning towards the door. He was flexing his hands and Miles turned his attention from his teacher to the door.

"Students, stay still and quiet." Dr. Ohnn instructed and the class quieted down.

There was rumbling as whatever it was headed towards them.

Then, as if on cue, Miles and his classmates were falling for a split second. Their vision blacked out before they found themselves in the gym.

Dr. Ohnn had relocated them.

Miles whispered to Ganke that he'd be back and slipped out of the gym. He quickly wrangled himself out of his school uniform and donned his suit before swinging towards the fight.

Miles slipped inside of the classroom to see Dr. Ohnn fighting Tombstone. The two were going hand to hand, Dr. Ohnn keeping up easily and seemingly going easy.

The man was crackling and his body was almost mostly black now. It was sending shocks down Miles' body and had him freeze for a second.

The memories came back before the sound of Tombstone calling his name cut him out.

"Spider-Man! Exactly who I was looking for!" Tombstone yelled.

Dr. Ohnn looked towards Miles before throwing a punch to Tombstone. The punch connected and Miles took this opportunity to jump into the fight.

Miles tried to use the spots as an advantage, but Dr. Ohnn was being difficult.

"What is wrong with you?" Miles grumbled at his teacher.

"If it wasn't for this fight and my students, I would be fighting you. Just letting you know." Dr. Ohnn called out. "But I lead by example!"

Dr. Ohnn kicked Tombstone and Miles pushed Tombstone out of the window.

"You're such a drama queen." Miles responded to Dr. Ohnn, who whipped his head towards Miles in response.

"This is the first time I see you in person in months and you call me a drama queen?!" Dr. Ohnn almost yelled it.

"Calm down!" Miles held his hands up in defense. "Aren't you supposed to be ruining my life?"

Dr. Ohnn stared at Miles, as if he was debating something, but then groaned and turned towards the man below them.

He opened up a portal and Tombstone disappeared into it.

"Scram, Spider-Man. I have a class to tend to." Dr. Ohnn turned his back towards Miles.

Miles frowned at him before going back to the gym. He redressed and slipped back inside just as Dr. Ohnn reappeared.

"Kids!" Dr. Ohnn called out and the students all crowded him.

Miles followed and stood at the edge.

Dr. Ohnn inspected each of the kids, making sure that they were all okay. Even though they didn't witness the fight.

When he had gotten to Miles, he took Miles' face in his hands and turned his head this way and that. It was a genuine inspection and Miles wondered if he actually did know Miles was Spider-Man.

"Good grief. You're all okay!" Dr. Ohnn dropped his hands and did a thumbs up. "Congrats! You guys survived a villain attack!"

"Why were we attacked?" A student asked.

"Something about revenge?" Dr. Ohnn shrugged. "He's back in jail, so who cares!"

The students all glanced at each other and grumbled as their teacher ushered them into their classroom again.

–

Miles was running late.

It was Monday morning, which meant he spent the weekend back at home instead of his dorm. Normally, he wakes up at 6am to leave by 7am, classes start at 8am. But today he slept through his alarm and it was currently 7:45am and he was just leaving his apartment.

Miles ran as fast as he dodged New Yorkers, who all grumbled at him and he apologized loudly to them. He didn't have time to not get caught changing in and out of his clothes, so swinging wasn't an option today. Normally it would be an option, but he didn't have time to risk getting caught.

Miles turned the corner of a block and his senses spiked before he ran flat into someone. Miles let out a small shriek as he fell almost comically onto his back, groaning and rubbing his eyes.

"Watch where you're going, punk." The man he ran into spat out and Miles turned onto his side.

"Maybe you need to not be standing directly behind a corner." The words slipped out of Miles' mouth and his eyes snapped open the second he said them.

"What'd you say, punk?" A hand grabbed the back of Miles' jacket and lifted him off the ground.

Miles came face to face with Kraven.

What was this man even doing in the open? At 7:45 in the morning?

"I didn't mean it!" Miles held his hands up and Kraven shook him slightly.

"Yeah, right." Kraven dropped Miles and rolled up his sleeves.

At least the man was wearing a normal person outfit. It would be weird to be in full outfit at… 7:55am.

Miles was totally late.

"Hey now, I suggest you leave my student alone." A voice came from behind Miles.

Kraven looked up and scowled.

"Well, isn't it the spotted one." Kraven growled and Miles looked back.

Dr. Ohnn was standing with his hands on his hips. He was wearing his old jean jacket, hat, and sunglasses. He was also wearing black pants, which was slightly odd.

"Dr. Ohnn." Miles gave him a look that screamed for help.

"Yup. It's me. Big surprise!" Dr. Ohnn did jazz hands before stepping to stand behind Miles. He placed a hand on Miles's shoulder. "Do you have a problem with one of my favorite students?"

Kraven looked between the two before laughing.

"So you're a teacher now? Couldn't cut it as a villain, huh?" Kraven looked highly amused. "Knew it."

"Actually," Miles was speaking again without speaking. Miles stop it. Miles, Miles don't do it. "He almost destroyed the multiverse before becoming our teacher. I guess he did more than you ever will. Sucks, right? The Hole Man that you think is silly is more powerful than you'll ever be."

The two adults stared at Miles in shock before Kraven drew his weapon.

"You little shit-" Kraven started, but was cut off when Dr. Ohnn shot a hole beneath him.

Kraven fell through with a yell and the hole shut after he was gone. The two stared at the hole before Miles looked up to Dr. Ohnn.

"Well…" Dr. Ohnn started slowly. "Next time, please don't pick fights when you're in the open. It isn't a good look, you know?"

"What?" Miles gave him a confused look as Dr. Ohnn opened up a hole large enough for the two of them.

Dr. Ohnn pushed Miles through and they ended up inside of the classroom. Dr. Ohnn sat his bag on his desk before poking at Miles.

He checked Miles over for any scratches before nodding. The classmates all stared at them.

"Great. You're unharmed. Sit down." Dr. Ohnn moved to the whiteboard and picked up an expo.

Miles moved to sit at his desk next to Ganke as the bell rang.

"Now, students. Don't pick fights with villains, especially if you aren't equipped to fight back." Dr. Ohnn started to write out the lesson for the day on the board casually. "Especially egotistical barbarian hunters. Don't be like Mr. Morales, who had the unpleasant experience of running into Kraven. That man is so miserable, you know?"

Ganke turned to Miles and raised an eyebrow, and Miles held his hands up in defense.

"I turned a corner and ran into him!" Miles tried to defend himself.

Dr. Ohnn threw the marker cap into a spot, which led to the cap hitting Miles in the face. It bounced off his face and ricocheted into another spot before landing back into the teacher's hand.

"Don't be late for school then, Morales." Dr. Ohnn capped his expo and turned back around. "Now, someone explain to me lense refraction."

–

The whole class stared in amazement as Dr. Ohnn plugged many cords into some sort of object.

The room was scattered with wires and tubes. Chunks of different computers were connected and scattered around the room. They were all instructed to not touch anything as he worked.

Dr. Ohnn mumbled to himself as he picked up a screwdriver and tightened a few screws on the largest box on his desk. It looked like it had a lense on it, which held a light bulb behind it.

"Someone turn off the lights and flip the one that's already off to the on position." Dr. Ohnn waved his hands towards the students as the other day down the screwdriver. "To your seats everyone else!"

The class scrambled to their seats as he stepped back. In his hand was a remote, which had multiple buttons.

Miles watched as Anya stood at the light switch, waiting for everyone to sit down. Once they were, she shut the lights off and flipped on the final switch.

She moved to her seat quickly as the contraption came to life. Each box whirred and lit up, glowing orange and purple. It reminded Miles of the collider mixed with the watches that hopped universes.

"Alright class, I thought today I'd show you something I've been tinkering with for you." Dr. Ohnn leaned against the whiteboard, his legs and arms crossed. He held the remote out towards the main machine and tilted his head. "Now, no one touches any of the beams. Nothing will hurt you, but you might mess things up, you know. You've all been good and I did this just for you guys."

The class nodded and Dr. Ohnn nodded back.

"This machine is a mix of different technologies. It harnesses the same power and source of the collider that connected universes and lets me power up. But… less dangerous. Instead of cutting it open, it more like… creates a window with a screen. Then it reflects it into a hologram of sorts." Dr. Ohnn explains. "Completely harmless. It's like watching CCTV."

Miles took a deep breath. It didn't feel harmful. If it was, he would be able to tell. It sounded cool though.

"Ready?" Dr. Ohnn asked and the students all nodded.

With a press of a button, the main part projected a hologram into the middle of the room.

It showed a man with short cut hair and glasses working on something in a lab. The man didn't notice anything was wrong and was inaudibly rambling to someone just outside of the projection.

"That is me, Jonathan Ohnn from Earth 51601. He worked for Alchamex also, but now works for a different company. Alchamex in this universe was destroyed after the VP's son was murdered in illegal experimentation." Dr. Ohnn explained. "The accident that happened to me never happened, due to that."

A button was pressed and the hologram changed.

It was a Spider-Man swinging through New York. This Spider-Man was of the Peter Parker variant, Miles could tell because of his suit. He looked younger and looked a bit beat up.

"This is Spider-Man from Earth 199999. He is about your age, if not slightly older. He has been to space and has experienced extreme grief in his life. His world found out his identity and now all do not know who he is at all." Dr. Ohnn explained. "Do not mess with magic kids. And don't out people's identities. It's morally incorrect. You can ruin their lives."

Miles caught that comment, as it was quieter than the other ones. It made Miles wonder what that meant as he glanced at his teacher.

Another button pressed, a new universe.

"Earth 65." Dr. Ohnn informed.

Miles recognized the number and looked up to see a masked Gwen fighting a male Doc Ock.

"Spider-Woman protects this universe." Dr. Ohnn tucked his hand away and they all watched as Gwen did her work. They couldn't hear her, but she was clearly talking. "She's also about your age. A spitfire, if you ask me. Nice girl when all things considered."

"What does that mean? Did you meet her?" A student from the back asked.

"Yes. I got to meet her." Dr. Ohnn nodded. "I got to visit all of these universes at some point. This one doesn't have Alchamex. Not all universes are made the same."

"Can we go?" Ganke asked. "You could bring us."

Dr. Ohnn slowly turned his face towards Ganke, who now looked nervous.

"Do you know how much paperwork I'd have to fill out?" Dr. Ohnn's voice sounded tired and stressed as he started to talk with his hands. "The waivers would take forever for you all to get signed and brought back also. You're all not the quickest when getting things signs. Plus, interdimensional travel isn't for the faint of heart. I would have to make each and every one of you something to keep your atoms stable. Atoms do NOT like being in other universes."

"Wait… they don't?" Jessica sounded confused.

"No. You start to glitch as your atoms try to scramble and go home. Your genetic coding doesn't like being misplaced, so they try to go home. Which isn't pleasant." Dr. Ohnn shrugged. "The only way is to stabilize your atoms and give them a temporary grounding mask. Like a lighting rod, so when it strikes it thinks that they are actually back home."

"What about you?" Miles asks and Dr. Ohnn lights up.

"I am an interdimensional being!" He sounded excited to explain it. "Since my body was absorbed by interdimensional matter, I am one with the spots, which means I exist in all universes at once while being grounded to my physical being. I'm the lighting rod!"

The class all stared at the man as he laughed.

"It's very cool actually! Messed up, but cool. So I can travel and my atoms don't get upset since they belong everywhere." Dr. Ohnn continued to explain. "My universe serial number is just like you guys, as my DNA has it hard coded. But my atoms are not."

The kids slowly nodded, slowly catching on.

"So… you don't want us to get hurt… and paperwork is annoying?" Ganke said slowly. "So that's why you made this instead?"

"Exactly." Dr. Ohnn nodded.

Miles stared blankly at Dr. Ohnn before looking back up to the hologram of Gwen. Dr. Ohnn had failed to mention that if they went, they'd have a whole group of Spider-People running after them.

In the hologram Gwen was standing, looking at her watch. She was talking to a hologram of a woman now. The two seemed to be slightly heated in their conversation, but it stopped as Gwen looked directly at them.

"Oh! That's enough." Dr. Ohnn turned off the machine and the classroom grew dark again.

There was a bit of noise before the light turned on.

"Can't get into trouble with the spider police." Dr. Ohnn laughed and the class promptly ignored him.

–

"Miles, please stay after class."

Miles groaned quietly and stayed behind. He slowly walked up to Dr. Ohnn's desk once the students were all out of the room.

"What's up, Dr. Ohnn?" Miles cringed at himself and if Dr. Ohnn had eyebrows, he'd probably be raising them.

"The guidance counselor wanted me to write you a nice letter of recommendation for university." Dr. Ohnn clasped his hands together in front of him.

"Would… you?" Miles slowly asked, his face becoming uncertain.

"Of course I am." Dr. Ohnn nodded. He was being oddly calm and not animated. "But I wanted to make sure you were certain in this field of work."

"Ever since I've started here, I've wanted to go." Miles felt confused. Why was he asking this?

"We both know this field of work turned me into this." Dr. Ohnn tilted his head. "And it turned you into who you are. I want you to succeed, Miles."

It hit Miles then, that this whole time he knew. He had come here originally to destroy Miles, but didn't. He kept Miles' secret and protected him.

He was still trying to protect him.

"You know?" Miles felt anxious now. He just thought this whole time he had gotten close to finding out, but given up.

"I've known since you were bit, Miles." Dr. Ohnn sighed. "I kept tabs on you. I couldn't let my greatest achievement get hurt. But then the accident happened. And I let myself get into my own head."

Miles just stared at his teacher.

"But Miles, I didn't destroy your life because I cared. I got too invested. I told you since the beginning of this class that I cared too much and I couldn't bring myself to do harm." The man looked down slightly. "I felt bad. You're one of my kids, Miles. I can't hurt my kids. You guys mean too much to me."

"That's why you gave up being a villain…" Miles knew this already. But the gravity of the situation actually hit. "You actually do care."

"I do. That's why I wrote this letter of recommendation." Dr. Ohnn handed Miles a paper copy of it. "If you genuinely want to go into this field, you have my full support. I will help in any way that I can. You'll be able to reach me whenever you need to also."

Miles stared at his teacher, the one who protected and cared for him all of these months. The man who threatened to destroy his life but gave it up quickly. The man who gave him and his classmates a safe space to exist in.

"Thanks." Miles said dumbly. His brain slowly accepted the fact that he didn't know and wanted to protect Miles.

"Of course. I do hope you know that from the beginning you were an amazing discovery. The consequences are balanced by it." Miles knew that if the man could smile, he would be. "Now, you need to go out there and prove me right."

–

Miles watched as Dr. Ohnn and his classmates built a mousetrap style contraption. It was large and looked intricate.

The students were recording Dr. Ohnn as he did test runs and dramatically sigh when they didn't work.

It had become a constant thing where the students would record the dumb pranks or silly things that the man pulled. They had a collection circulating the school and on private social media.

"Okay! It should work!" Dr. Ohnn called out.

The class got their phones out to record as he opened a spot at the top. He dropped the marble into the contraption and they watched as it went through. It turned on small lights, sent other marbles in other directions, triggered pulley systems, dropped, and bounced around. The class cheered as it worked as intended.

"Congrats!" Dr. Ohnn clapped. "I'm proud!"

The students sent the videos to their friends and Miles felt his phone buzz. He took it out to see his phone light up with dumb memes that they made of their teacher going into the GroupMe.

Miles smiled and looked up to his class.

He loved it here.

–

Miles dodged a chunk of cement that Lizard threw at him.

"That wasn't nice!" Miles called out to the Lizard and shot webs at him. "Stay still!"

Miles thwipped past Lizard and tried to web him up, but to no avail. His father was down below, trying to get people out of the building. He kept stopping to watch Spider-Man fight before going back to his job.

They were down the street from Visions, so Miles was able to get away from the gym pretty easily and show up. He knew his parents would be upset with him, but it would be worth it.

"Look at you, skipping class."

Miles looked to the side to see Dr. Ohnn appeared out of a spot. He looked slightly annoyed at the idea.

He'd get over it.

"It was gym, it'll be okay." Miles quipped back before kicking Lizard in the face.

Dr. Ohnn joined the fight, throwing spots to help Miles dodge and to get Lizard mixed up.

"Yeah? Say that to your Spanish grade." Dr. Ohnn scolded Miles.

The Lizard growled something that Miles couldn't understand, so he ignored him as he moved past him.

"Why do I even need to take gym? I get physical activity from this." Miles complained and Dr. Ohnn gave him a look.

"Sure. Go tell your principal you're Spider-Man. See how that works out." Dr. Ohnn's voice dropped with sarcasm.

"Do you two know each other?" Lizard asked as he swiped at Dr. Ohnn.

"Loosely. He's my nemesis." Dr. Ohnn disappeared into a hole and appeared behind Lizard. "No biggie."

Miles snorted before he saw an opening.

He shot many webs, which Lizard stumbled into and twisted himself into.

"Hah! Eat it." Miles cheered as he finished bundling up Lizard. "You'll see me about what? In six months before you break out?"

"You're so right! You want to bet?" Dr. Ohnn dropped next to Miles on the solid ground.

Miles was going to respond, but his father ran up.

"What is he doing here, Spider-Man?" His dad asked. "Aren't you my son's teacher now?"

"I've had a change of heart!" Dr. Ohnn held up his hands in defense.

"Captain Morales, I can say that he isn't for destroying the world anymore. He's a changed man." Miles gave a slight voice and paused for a moment. "Your son's teacher?"

"Yeah." His dad gave Dr. Ohnn an odd look. "I had a parent teacher conference the other day."

"You did?" Miles' voice went up slightly in fear. "For what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, web boy?" Dr. Ohnn sounded gleeful before waving and opening up a spot. "Anyways! I have AP Physics to teach. Bye!"

With that, the man was gone.

"He's…" His father started.

"A headache?" Miles guessed. "At least you don't have to deal with him on a daily basis."

"You what?" His dad frowned.

"Nothing! I gotta go!" Miles shot away, leaving his father looking bewildered.

–

Miles stood in a cap and gown, holding one of the many medals he had gained over the years in his hands.

Miles watched as students walked across the stage, shaking hands with their teachers and principal.

It had been two years and Miles was finally graduating.

Miles didn't know how he had managed it, but he got into his dream school with help from Dr. Ohnn and he had gotten great scholarships because of him. He was part of the top 1% of his class and still the web slinger. He had made a plan on how to stay Spider-Man and juggle his classes. Some classes would be online and some in person so he could be home.

Miles took a deep breath and let his medal go, letting it drop against his chest.

"I got this." Miles whispered as he and his classmates walked towards the stage.

It took two minutes for Miles to get up to the stairs on the stage.

"Miles Morales." The announcer said and he could hear his family cheer from the distance as he walked towards his principal.

He shook her hand as she handed him his diploma. They smiled at each other, then towards the camera that took his picture. Miles then moved towards the teachers at the bottom of the stage and shook their hands.

The ceremony was long, but at the end he ran to his family and hugged his mother. She held him tightly and whispered how proud she was of him. His father patted his back and repeated how proud he was of Miles.

"There he is! My favorite."

Miles and his family turned to see Dr. Ohnn waving at them.

"Dr. Ohnn." Miles smiled and waved back as the man approached.

"I'm proud of you, Miles." Dr. Ohnn was holding something small in his hands. "I made you a gift, but you can't open it until you're home. You hear me?"

Miles nodded and accepted the gift.

It was covered in cow printed wrapping paper and had a silly drawing of his teacher on it.

"Thank you for looking out for our Miles, Dr. Ohnn." His mother held out her hand and Dr. Ohnn shook it.

"Of course! He has been my best student and he has flourished so much since I started here. I genuinely believe that he could do things that would help the world." Dr. Ohnn sounded genuine.

"Do you two want a picture?" Miles'father asked, pulling out his camera.

"Yes!" Dr. Ohnn clapped and the two got into position.

Dr. Ohnn held an arm around Miles' shoulder and threw up a thumbs up while Miles held up his diploma and a thumbs up. Miles gave a big smile and felt happy as his father took their picture.

Dr. Ohnn let Miles go and took a step back.

"Congrats, Miles. I'm very proud of you." Dr. Ohnn nodded and Miles nodded back.

"Thanks. I appreciate you." Miles smiled.

–

In his room, Miles was finally alone and able to open up the gift that Dr. Ohnn had given him.

He carefully undid the wrapping paper and opened the box.

Inside was some sort of watch. It was black and had a screen on it. Miles put it on and the thing came to life.

The screen lit up and it had a hub that said 1610, then options on the side in the form of symbols. Miles furrowed his eyebrows before picking up the card that was at the bottom of the box.

"To my favorite student: use this wisely, as it isn't approved by the great spider authority you've met. This should help with you getting back to New York and to see your little friends in other universes." Miles read out loud.

It was Dr. Ohnn's powers as a watch.

"Holy…" Miles stood up and read the instructions.

He got the basics before he pressed a few buttons.

An inky hole opened in front of Miles and he stepped through. The world around him turned watercolor and he was in a bedroom covered in posters. A girl was on her bed and she looked up.

"Miles?" She stood up.

"Hey, Gwen. Want to get out of here?"

[littlewitty]

Alairie Persu

Chapter 3

“My, my. Don’t you look in a sorry state, young lady?” Of course he had found me. Caspian always did. “What’s wrong?”

I remember being huddled up when he had found me. I had wrapped my arms around my knees. I would have been leaning against that tree. It was just on the borders of the world outside. Mother always had told me to never go past that tree. She used to say that it was dangerous. I only understood what she was saying after I grew up. It was mainly sand and grass. Sand gets hot. Hot enough to burn the skin on your feet at the right temperature. The grass was sharp and would sting your feet if you stepped on it wrong. That aside, I remember that as the day I made the most naive decision of my whole life. Everyone makes slip-ups, shit happens, I guess.

It had already been two weeks since I was caught. It had flown by fast but I had nothing to do but daydream. After the night I was attacked, I was sent to a jail and had a criminal record filled out. As it happens, I had been locked in a cell with no one in it. In the whole vicinity, there were only three of us there. That meant only two things. People in Rhodolite don’t commit crimes, or the law is shit at finding criminals. My trial was due to happen in the next few months. It was always postponed due to the fact that my lawyer was Jadian and needed a translator. They hadn’t managed to find one that spoke the dialect we did. The symptoms from my head injury had also cleared up. Although, from time to time the ringing reappeared. The waiting left me thinking about my childhood a lot. I ended up thinking about Mother and her husband, and of course, Caspian. I wondered what he had been up to since I left. Normally, on Tuesdays, he would go to the pub to have a meal. He loved that pub. He used to take me all the time to drink and meet men. He had dreamt that I would find a husband there. I hadn’t. I probably would never find a husband.

“You look sorry for yourself. Or perhaps that is the shame?” An unfamilair voice tugged at my interests. Outside my confined cell was a man dressed in all black. “Alairie Persu. Jadian as well as Tanzanitian, part of the Opium trade but also a pickpocket. Twenty-four years old and fluent in Jadian, Tanzanitian and Rhodolitian. Immigrated here when the borders opened about a month ago. Jailed two weeks ago. You’re currently awaiting trial,” he looked up from the piece of paper at me, “am I wrong?”

His voice called out to me again. It was condescending. It pissed me off a bit. “Obviously.” I retorted. I couldn’t have laced my words with any more sarcasm. I hoped that the message had been sent and received.

“Don’t get arrogant. I may be your ticket out of here. My name is Sariel Noir.”

“..Okay?”

“I have a job. You may be the perfect person for it. If you succeed, your minor pickpocketing crimes in Rhodolite will be forgiven and you’ll be paid a lavish amount.”

“And the drug dealing crime?”

“That didn’t happen on Rhodolite soil, it’s not our problem to deal with.” His eyes were sharp. He seemed amused by all of this. He had this air around him. He seemed shady. Even I wouldn’t associate with him. “Oh, you cannot refuse.” Great. So not only will I be stuck doing God knows what with this man. I cannot refuse. Before I could even ask what I would be doing, he clicked his fingers and two unidentifiable men unlocked the cell and grabbed me. One of them tied my hands up and the other came towards me with a cloth. The last thing I saw was the cloth getting closer to my eyes before being tied on my head. I was blind and unable to move. Why does this keep happening to me?!

It had been about twenty minutes, all I had figured out was that I was in a carriage. I could hear the wind outside. I could feel the bumbling of the carriage along rough and smooth parts of the road. There was also humming. I’m guessing it was Sariel, but someone was sitting there and humming to themselves. The carriage itself smelled of flowers. It reminded me of my mother’s perfume. She only used to use it when it was an important night out. It was an expensive smell. I could talk still, but hadn’t the slightest idea what to say. It was dangerous to talk when you didn’t know who you were talking to. You only have their tone of voice to pick up on, not their facial expressions. That in itself is terrifying. The carriage turned again abruptly. I had been counting the turns. We had gone to the right eight times and to the left about twelve. Everytime it turned, I felt myself lurch to the corresponding side. I had heard the other person in here had the same problem.

“You should get a new carriage driver. One that doesn’t drive like a drunkard.” Okay, that one slipped out. However, it was the truth. He laughed.

“That is none of your concern. We are almost there.”

“Great. Am I going to be whisked away to another cell?”

“Naturally.” Yay… I cannot wait.

The sound of dripping water eventually woke me up. A morning hazy state handled me, I slowly sat up in the cell. Well, I was whisked to another cell but I preferred the old one. My blind fold and my restraints were removed and I stayed sitting in the corner of the cell. You knew it was bad when you prefer ‘the other cell’. I still hadn’t been told about the job at hand. It had been two days now and nothing. I had been given food though. Proper food. Not gruel but vegetable soup and bread. To that, I liked it here more. These little dizzy episodes I had been experiencing in the Jail had subsided finally. I finally looked up to the sound of singing coming from the entrance of the dungeon. He was there. That man that had offered me biscuits, Clavis. I had learnt quickly that I was in the palace dungeons. That man was Clavis Lelouch, Third Prince of Rhodolite. The man I robbed was Licht Klein, Sixth Prince of Rhodolite and ‘Blondie’ was actually Yves Kloss, Fifth Prince of Rhodolite. Clavis would come, annoy me, ask me serious questions and leave. As much as I hated him, I craved the lamentable conversation his visits brought. I had never realised how social I was.

“Good morning.”

Annoyance took my voice from me, “Fuck off.” I replied in the exact tone he had used. He only laughed.

“Pickpockets are hanged here.”

“As you keep on telling me.” Literally, that’s his favourite fact. Loving to throw that one in my face when I refused to answer his questions. He moved the chair and sat in front of the bars, utterly amused. One thing I had picked up on quickly was that Clavis would attend to the wound on my forehead. He was always checking it and giving me ointments to clean it. I knew why. They wanted me to go on the front lines for something. That’s why they never tortured me. They needed me looking normal to go out for them. I was sure of it.

“I have a few questions regarding the Jadian Opium trade that you have connections with, Alairie Persu.”

“Oh for God’s sake! I’ve told you everything I know!”

“I know. It was only a joke,” he jabbed. “Do you know proper dining etiquette?” I knew it! They wanted me to spy on someone for them! He had that grin again. He was winding me up.

“No… Well, actually I don’t even know Rhodolitian common dining etiquette… Where I used to live, we used our hands for dining, rarely using utensils. It saves water usage.” He was unreadable but you could see the curiosity and amusement in his eyes. He seemed intrigued? He leaned forward in the chair and crossed his legs.

“Doesn’t Jade have soup as a common staple for dinner? How do you use your hands for that?”

“Dip bread in the soup. Pick up the whole bowl and drink from it…” It was pretty simple. There was no point in using cutlery if you didn’t need to. Washing it up just wasted water, water you could drink instead. We had a lot of droughts in South Jade. It was hot and water was scarce so we would all reduce water usage. It was too expensive to use meaninglessly. He seemed a bit disgusted by that prospect. I understood it. They didn’t like getting dirty, the Rich. “You have never been to Jade, I’m not surprised you don’t know much about the common culture, you look confused by it.”

“How would it reduce water to not use cutlery? You still surely fill the bucket up with water to wash up.” What was he on about? In Rhodolite, they fill up a bucket and wash their cutlery and plates in it? In Jade we wash up under running water. How do they prevent the water from getting dirty? It would transfer dirt onto plates and bowls – you’d just be washing up in dirty water.

“...We don’t wash up like that. You’re not here to learn how to wash up. Why do I need to know etiquette?”

“We have a job for you to do. That’s why you’re here.”

“Are you finally going to tell me what that job is?”

“Maybe.” That’s not a ‘no’. So they are waiting for the right time huh? He jangled keys and unlocked my cell door. “Come out. Sariel loves teaching people lessons.” A devilish smile reached his cheeks. “You need a bath.” He commented. No, really! I wonder why?

[sleepyowlwrites]

find the word tag CCCLIII

your complimentary music rec is All Souls Night by Loreena McKennitt. @spacetimewraithwrites @avrablake

drive (you were a windshield, 2022)

You collected me on Tuesday, bundled in a sweater two sizes too big but the color matched my eyes perfectly. Even though the winter had firmly set in, your stubbornness kept your leather jacket on your shoulders. I couldn’t mind because they were very fine shoulders, and the leather was soft from use. I held my bag between my arms because the books bulged the sides out to make it like a round pot. You were laughing before you even saw me, but all you asked was if I had enough. Packed into your car with a broken radio, the highway before us, your voice held enough songs for the entire drive.

night (summon story d0)

“I know you’re following me, but I don’t know why,” the young woman said after pausing at the end of the street.

Zan swallowed and detached himself from the wall he’d been leaning against. “It’s less about following you and more about following the trail you seem to be on.”

The woman’s cloak billowed out slightly in the damp breeze of early night. “Why? Hoping to gain experience?”

“I don’t need to hope for that, it just comes.” Zan moved a little bit further into the light from the nearest street lamp. “But I guess I figured if you were looking into the same case you could get some of the work done for me.”

fire (the sleepy stash)

"Lin," but Era was prevented from finishing her thought by a hand over her mouth.

"I know. You don't want to forget. I don't want you to forget. But more than that I would really, really like you to not die," and Lin's voice suddenly had a lot more desperation than decisiveness. "Please go through the gate. Even if you don't remember, there's always the possibility of you falling through again. You came here by accident twice already."

Era brushed at the tears she hadn't expected to see on Lin's face with her good arm, though it meant letting go of her hand. "You're right. It's very likely that I'll find my way back. But I won't remember you."

Lin's hand closed over Era's, a fire in her eyes. "I'll remember. I'll tell you everything."

sign (city story d0)

Rune exhales, much softer than her earlier breathing. She becomes a window instead of a door. "I had never intended to need him," she amends, bleeding desperation at the edge of her tone.

Copper grips the cushion with slightly unsteady fingers, a sign that he's far more emotional than he wants to let on. "He let you," he says in response, and he also sound desperate, just in a different shade.

His brother looks up at him, finally, and there are tears in his eyes. "I don't like seeing you self-destruct," he says around the hurt in his voice. "Either for you, or for someone, or for no one. I don't want to watch it happen."

Jet leans over, taking Copper's face in one hand. "I'm not, but even if I was, you couldn't stop me. You can be with me, and you can support me, but you can't change my decisions."

Copper sniffs, tilting his head to rest on Jet's hand a little more. "Yeah. I know that. I just hate seeing you drift away."

black (the sleepy stash)

you wonder if you’re hallucinating or if the potion was just that strong. the gnome reappears in your line of sight, cheat heaving from exertion.

my apologies, he says between breaths. this one isn’t for you. you’re human, yes?

yes, you tell him.

he looks mildly embarrassed. and you don’t have any magic, right?

I do, you say indignantly. I have gardening magic.

the gnome looks doubly appalled. I am very sorry, he says again. but this is not for you. have this instead. He produces a thin, black vial that smells strongly of licorice.

that seems unappealing, you inform him.

stand (city story d0)

“You haven’t been sitting here all night, have you?”

“No.”

It sounds dishonest, but Jet isn’t going to press him on that. Shadow doesn’t look quite disheveled enough for that, thankfully. “Alright. Do you want some breakfast?”

Shadow squints up at him. “You’re going to make me breakfast?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t cook. I’ll take to you get some breakfast.” Jet unlocks the door and pauses look meaningfully at Shadow to make him stand up and come inside.

need (continuing directly from above)

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Which means you didn’t really eat yesterday, either.” Jet flings his bag down and makes extra noise while retrieving what he wants for the week, hoping that Shadow will stop looking so spooked soon. “Do I need to start babysitting you?”

“Don’t be like that. I can take care of myself. Been doing it for a long time, you know.”

Jet does know, but not any specifics. He’s not a curious person, so he’s only been willing to listen when Shadow brings up his past on his own, rather than asking him directly. He doesn’t like it when people pry, so he’s not going to do it to them, either.

“If you’re not going to eat, though, how can I trust you to go on scouting missions or infiltrations? You could keel over at any time!” He’s exaggerating, he knows he is, but now that his brain is almost always toggled onto “protective” mode, Shadow failing to find himself food or a place to sleep is concerning.

bleed (moss, old envelopes, dried ink, 2022)

when it's only a daydream I like to think I'd be ferocious, and angry, and scream, but I know that in reality I'd be quiet, and I'd forgive you, and bleed. and that sounds like an apology, but that's not what I mean. in my dreams I am a weapon, but in truth, I am open hands. and that I will not deny. for that I will not apologize.

plead (city story d0)

“Jet.”

He hears more than just his name, he hears the urgency in the shape of it, the pleading at the edges. There’s a requirement for a response to that, to make the asker’s agony cease. There doesn’t seem to be much he can do for his own, so he settles for a response. His mouth sore, lips and tongue clumsy as they form words.

“’M okay,” he manages. The effort brings with it a catch in his throat and a feeble cough to follow. One more thing to hurt.

“Can you look at me?”

He chances a longer blink, and this time it yields results. His vision takes a few second to work, but the fog dissipates somewhat, revealing a figure looming over him.

“Hey.”

succeed (heartbeat, 2021)

Liu Sang clutches at his ears, scrapes nails against his hair, pulling at something, anything to close off the sound of the unbearable nothing that will surely follow. His chest hurts, his lips are pressed together and bleeding. Something is trying get him, to hold him, to keep him prisoner.

And it succeeds. The claws have grasped his arms so tightly he cannot move and he has been backed up against something solid and warm. His feet are crumpled under his legs, his knees are hedged by another entity: he’s trapped.

look, lose, long, leave. BONUS: linger, liable. @tryingtimi @houndmouthed @wildswrites @emelkae @drippingmoon @kjscottwrites @asher-orion-writes OR ANYBODY

[russian-romanova]

the one that got away

title: the one that got away

pairing: joe goldberg

warnings: adult language, spoilers for season two of ‘you’, very brief mentions of violence 

notes:  joe’s pov. i haven’t gotten anything out there in a while, so here’s this. 

summary: it’s been years since you ran out on your high school boyfriend joe goldberg. now that he’s seen you again, maybe it’s time to find out if your instincts were right. 

+      +      +

There was a part of me that had forgotten about you. I would go months without thinking about you, but then the strangest things would conjure up an image of you or your name would ring in my ears for a moment or two before passing out again. So don’t make the mistake of thinking I forgot about you, Y/N. I never forgot. Not really. 

We dated in high school, which doesn’t mean much at face value. High School relationships are the ones that are the most fragile when boys can’t control their own body parts and girls don’t seem to know the word ‘boundary’. The teen couples that come into Mooney’s are the worst relationships, where they hold hands and kiss every time they turn a corner. It takes all I have not to turn them away.

But we were… different. We were good, and we took it slow. I was quiet and you were sweet, and God, I don’t think I could ever recreate that high I would get when I walked into school and would see you waiting at my locker, reading some book I had given you or eating some breakfast dessert. We didn’t rush anything, we were slow and steady friends more than anything, at least before we kissed. And when we did kiss, it wasn’t bumbling or awkward like teenage kisses should be. It was perfect, Y/N. Like it was meant to be.  

You know why I’m bringing this up. I saw you at some supermarket the other day, in LA. It wasn’t Anavrin or any of those frighteningly strict healthy eating markets. It was just some supermarket I went to in search of some food I had been thinking about, and I saw you in the cereal aisle. You didn’t see me, Y/N, although I wasn’t sure if you would have even recognized me. You had a box of ‘Cinnamon Toast Crunch’ in one hand and a box of whatever the generic brand was in the other. I watched you for a moment, turn the first box over, then the second, before sighing and adding the generic one to your cart. I turned my body so you couldn’t see my face as I waited, only turning once I was sure you had left the aisle the opposite way of me. 

Trust me, Y/N, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I had to double-take to even think it was you, and then I ended up staring at you for a full five seconds before I remembered where I even was. A supermarket. In LA. 

Really, the strangest part was that I had been in LA for around a month and hadn’t somehow caught wind of you. Sure, LA’s a big city, perfect for disappearing -- I should know -- but I have a sixth sense for these sorts of things. It helps that I’ve been trying to stay away from you, really, I stopped searching your name on the internet long ago and I’ve been trying to push you out of my mind. 

Still --  I see in you in all of their eyes. Candace. Beck. Love. 

Then you pushed your cart away from me and left behind the corner. I trailed behind you for a while, because how are you supposed to see your high school sweetheart and just forget about it? You picked out black beans and condiments, grabbed crackers and milk. Then you were gone. 

But I knew you were in LA, and that got me through a while. I was distracted at work, distracted with Love. Even Ellie knew something was off, and of course, I couldn’t tell any of them about you, Y/N. I made up some lie about work or the news, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wondered if you shopped every Tuesday afternoon if I would have a chance of seeing you again if I waited there next week. If you saw me first, would you interact? Would you know what I was doing and confront me or would you leave and hope that I didn’t see you? Would you see me at all?

No, I knew that I had to find you before then, preferably someplace where I wouldn’t look like some random creep approaching a pretty girl. I had to do my research. 

I didn’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed when I discovered both an Instagram and a Facebook account that were both private. You were aware of security, at least a little. You had a public twitter account, but nothing you posted on there really pertained to you on a personal level, mostly retweets about characters or politics. 

Roughly three weeks ago, you had retweeted some comedic tweet about the benefits of being single. This was a good sign, Y/N. My expectations were set low, but the more I learned about you, the higher they became. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about our high school years, and how happy we both were. We could be like that again. 

I was about to give up on the social media scour when I saw an Instagram account linked to your twitter account, completely different from the one I had already stumbled upon. This one was a much vaguer account, with some photos you must have taken, mostly of other people or of aesthetically pleasing nature views or buildings. The photographs that caught my eye the most -- and I’m sure you understand why, Y/N -- were the ones of Farmington Park and the one of a house front. The house numbers were blurred out, but it wasn’t that hard to trace around on Google Earth. I extended the view and followed the roads surrounding Farmington Park, making the assumption that you were near to it judging by the amount of photots you had posted of it, until I found the house that seemed the most familiar, the one that matched up perectly with the photograph. Bingo.

You should be more careful, Y/N. 

✾ ✾ ✾

And so I wait. I see you again, but no longer by accident. I don my jacket and cap, and I wait at the bench near your house -- just a man reading a book, nothing anyone will pay too much attention to. I see you leave your house, which I’m relieved to see you walk out of. I’ve been wrong in the past, and it’s the worst possible feeling I could imagine. But you looked right at me, Y/N. The second day, you walked out of your bright red door and made direct eye contact with me. I have sunglasses on, so I don’t know if you can tell I’m looking back, but you stare at me for a few seconds, and then you move on. I worried you had maybe seen me, but the next day I returned and you didn’t think much of it. 

Tuesdays and Thursdays is when you went to the park. As the sunsets, to get those stereotypical sunset photos, I presume, and you stay until late on Tuesday nights because you have Wednesdays off. It’s abandoned by the time it’s nine pm, the perk of small parks in big cities. So I waited until I was ready, until I thought you would be ready, and then I decided it was time to meet you. 

8:42 on a Tuesday night, and I’ve never been more terrified before. I sit in the grass and watch you as the people slowly go home, watching you on your phone and messing with your camera. I notice for the first time, the green bracelet on your arm, which I recognize instantly, because I gave you that bracelet, Y/N. In high school, for your birthday. I gave it to you years ago, and you still wear it. 

That almost gives me hope.

I had a plan. Once it was empty enough, I took off my hat and sunglasses, and I just sat there. You needed to come to me, to feel comfortable enough to do so. It was going to be an accident that I was here, nothing creepy. Nothing to feed your worries or stresses. I wasn’t a worry, I was a comfort that was reappearing after years and years. 

When you saw me, your froze. You just stood there, unmoving and possibly unbreathing, frozen in a moment either now or in the past, mind racing and heart too fast. I waited for you, patiently. It was hard to not run up to you, to talk to you unprompted. But I had waited this long, I could wait a few minutes more.

Finally, you spoke. “What are you doing here?” 

I looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh my God, Y/N,” I closed my book and stood up, smiling as if I had no idea you still existed. “What are you doing in LA?”

“Cut the bullshit. I saw you the other day. At least, I thought I saw someone that looked just like you, and now I’m pretty fucking sure that was you, Joe. This can’t be happening. This isn’t-” You trailed off, mumbling to yourself. Your were suspitious, but I could work with suspicious. 

“You saw me? Seriously? Where was it?” I laugh as if I’m more confused than you are, still confused and surprised. Keep it up, Joe. Patience. “Why didn’t you-”

“Stop it. You were-” You stopped talking, your eyes widening a little at the absurdity of the situation. “You looked at me, Joe. I know you’re lying, so cut the bullshit. Be honest.”

I think it over for a minute. “I didn’t know if it was actually you or not.” I say, a little bit quieter. I feel like a kid again, and we haven’t even been talking for a minute. 

“Honest,” You repeated. “I’m not new to your games, Joe. Where did you see me first?”

“The bus stop,” I say, maintaining eye contact. You give me your ‘bullshit’ look, and I realize nothing has changed. I almost smile before I remember what’s happening, that I need to work fast and convince you. I can’t lose you again, not now that I’ve found you. “The bus stop,” I reaffirm, before adding. “Nice bracelet.” 

And I’ve changed the subject. 

“I need to go home,” You say, sounding tired and frantic. 

I take a step forward. “Let me walk you,”

“No, Joe.” You say loudly at first, and then repeat it a little softer. 

“Please, Y/N,” I say in a tone that we both know is close to a beg. You look at me with those big fucking eyes and I hope I’m making the same expression back. The puppy dog eyes are something we’ve both mastered. 

“Joe, I don’t love you anymore.” You say suddenly, and you throw your hands out to either side as if that’s it. As if that’s enough to satisfy me and it answers all my questions. 

“Then why are you still wearing the bracelet?” I’m begging you now, pleading with you and I hate my own tone of voice. 

You glance down at it as if you’ve forgotten about it. There’s a pause as you think for a moment, searching for words or for a lie. I’m frozen when I stand. “It’s not because I love you. It’s to remember.” You look up at me again, and your eyes aren’t just big anymore, they’re teary now. A part of me still wants to run to you, to tell you that it’s okay, but I know I can’t. “You killed me, Joe. Or you might as well have. I’m mourning her. I can’t forget her.”

Any act is long gone. We both know what you’re talking about, about all the conversations we had where you had tried to break up with me and I convinced you, about all the looks your had given me when I did something that would send off a red flag. “I didn’t, Y/N. I wouldn’t have. I was so careful with you.” 

You look at me in a way I’ve never seen before. “I hid. I shouldn’t have had to hide. I changed so much about me, about who I was because I was scared you would find me somehow, I don’t know.” You run a distressed hand through your hair.

“Why? Why were you so scared of me, Y/N? I was just some kid in love. I loved you so much. I love you so much.” I take a step towards you.

You match it with one back, putting up a distressed hand. “Stop, Joe. Stop. I’m not doing this, okay? All of these things about you pointed to terror for me and I went with my gut because you hear all of these horror stories about girls and their boyfriends and it was better safe than sorry and-“ You sniff, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. You’re crying and I didn’t even realize it. “And I am sorry, Joe. I really am, but we both know that’s what I needed to do.” And you’re right, Y/N, and it would be a lie to deny it. I didn’t have to do anything to you and you knew who I was. No one has ever understood as well as you. 

I am hurt as you look at me, somehow pained yet strong. “I’m sorry,” Is all I can manage out, and you don’t respond. 

“I need to go home,” You say finally. “You do too, Joe. This is out there now, and we can move on. Okay? Don’t try to find me again.”

“But I can’t forget about you.” I don’t know if I’m making excuses or being honest anymore. For a split second, I think about lunging at you, grabbing you or striking you or something -- but then I remember that this isn’t just anyone. This is you. Candace, Beck, Love, they’re all modelled after you. I think that’s all I’m working for, is you again. Yet I respect you too much to treat you like them, and I love you too much to really let you go. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. 

“Then don’t,” You look at me with calm eyes. “Then don’t forget about me. It’s better to remember, but to keep it somewhere just out of reach. It’s not like I could forget you, Joe. You were a part of my life,” You admit. “No matter how bad, you can’t forget something like that.” 

And that’s all you need to say. No goodbye, no farewell greeting. You turn and walk away.

And I let you, Y/N. 

For the first time in my life, I watch someone walk away from me, and that’s it. Out of everyone, I hate that it’s you leaving yet I’m happy that we ended it like this. I watch your wrist swing slightly as you walk, the stringy ends of the bracelet swinging along with it. I think of what you said, about remembering, and I know there’s some truth there. I’ve felt it before, the need to remember Candace and Beck long after I had thought they were gone. For them -- and for me.

But as you turned the corner for the final time, something in me pulls at my senses, telling me what I already know is true.  Your words ring in my mind one final time, but I know you’re wrong this once. 

Sometimes, Y/N, it’s better not to remember, but to forget.  

[loversamongus]

Coffee, Chills, and Closeness | modern!Zuko x reader

a/n: I was really happy with the way Friends, Fevers, and Family Movies came out so I decided to write a sequel to it in which you now have to take care of a sick, grumpy, little Zuko. I just really love good ol’ fluff.

warnings: characters sick with the flu; some language

words: 2.2k

After a few more days of bed rest and bowls of Katara’s special flu season homemade soup, you were starting to feel much better. The color reappeared in your face, the bounce returned to your step, and clarity chased out the dizziness in your head. Your best friends noticed your change in health and mood almost immediately.

“Must be my soup,” Katara said as you bounced past her in the kitchen to reach your cereal. You couldn’t help but question a knowing look in her eye. You raised an eyebrow in response.

“Or maybe just some good nights of sleep,” she continued. “You’ve had a smile plastered on your sleepy face for a couple nights now.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that you’ve been watching me sleep and eat my breakfast now, if you don’t mind.”

But what Katara said couldn’t be completely ignored, no. You don’t often remember your dreams, but recently you’ve been able to remember one recurring image that has appeared in your subconscious for the last few nights in a row. A certain shaggy haired, golden eyed someone kissing your forehead, just the remembrance of the sensation is enough to give you the chills again. Of course, there were cowboy dolls and astronaut action figures dancing in the background so the mushiness of the dream didn’t last too long.

It’s funny how the nostalgia of your childhood could wiggle its way into any dream, conversation, or movie night decision. You didn’t have a particularly cushy childhood but it was stable enough compared to your friends. While little you sat on the floor of your living room rewatching The Lion King for the umpteenth time, Sokka and Katara were mourning the loss of their mother, Aang was shouldering enormous responsibility that isolated him from his grammar school friends, Toph was being sheltered and completely restricted from most activities by her parents, and Zuko. Well Zuko hasn’t shared much about his childhood with you but the parts he did definitely weren’t filled with faith, trust, and pixie dust.

Your thoughtful reminiscing was quickly interrupted by Sokka barging through the front door, carrying three cups of Jasmine Dragon tea. While handing one cup to his sister and one cup to you, a devilish smirk grew on his face.

“You got your boyfriend sick.”

“My what?”

“You heard me. Iroh told me he came in for his shift all wheezing and hacking and snivelly and had to send him home. Sounds a lot like someone I know.”

“I- Sokka, Zuko isn’t my boyfriend. “

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not the funniest, sexiest, strongest, most talented man on the planet.”

You heard Katara nearly choke on her orange juice and you reached to pat her on the back before grabbing your wallet and house keys.

“Okay well, I don’t have time to unpack all of that with you. I have to get to the diner.”

At this point, Sokka had already made his bowl of cereal and with a very full mouth, he seemed to be talking to his spoon more so than you. “That’s because you know it’s Zuko.”

“What?”

“I said tell Suki I love her!”

With a roll of your eyes, you headed out the door. For a few moments, you grumbled to yourself over the annoyance of Sokka’s teasing. But very quickly into your walk to the diner, a wave of guilt rushed over you. Zuko is sick with the flu. You knew you shouldn’t have snuggled up to him or cried on his shoulder while watching Toy Story 2!

“Okay but it’s not all my fault. He’s the one that kissed me on my feverish forehead. That was a mistake,” you mumbled to yourself.

Once at the diner, you headed to the workroom to get your apron but before starting the breakfast shift, you took out your phone to send a quick text.

hey heard you were sick :( how ya doing?

Not a minute goes by before you get a response.

Uncle exaggerates. I’m completely fine.

Letting out a sigh, you wonder how you could have met anyone as stubborn as you. The small smile forming on your lips is quickly erased by the sound of your manager calling for you to get on the floor. Your sick friend would have to wait.

The morning shift started out the same as it always had, and you were grateful for the routine after being out sick for the past week. A couple of the regulars welcomed you back with warm smiles and kind tips, while you still made sure to avoid small talk with some of the other diner patrons. Seriously, what was up with that cabbage obsessed man? The morning hours seemed to fly by with ease. Just as you were refilling a coffee pot, however, your calm routine was shattered when you noticed a very pale, black-haired man slouched over one of your tables.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled at him before passing his table to refill one of your other table’s coffee mugs.

“Getting some breakfast,” he whispered back, propping his droopy head up on his hand.

“Well it’s almost lunch now, you idiot.”

“Getting some brunch then.” A dopey smile appeared on his face but you could see in his eyes that he must not have slept well last night.

“Zuko,” you said, almost scolding. “You shouldn’t be here. You have the flu.”

“I do not. I’m just tired. Can I have some coffee, please?”

“If you’re just tired, why do you sound all congested?” you asked as you poured some coffee for him.

“Allergies,” he replied simply but unconvincingly.

“Oh my god, Zuko,” you began to raise your voice but immediately regretted it when you saw your friend raise his hands to his head. A migraine no doubt, the memory of those still fresh in your head from your own bout with the flu. Lowering your voice, you spoke to him again.

“Why did you come here when you’re sick?”

“It’s Tuesday. I always come in for breakfast on Tuesdays to see you.”

Goddamnit. After being out for a week, you completely lost track of what day it was. Also goddamnit again. Zuko really dragged himself out just to keep up this little ritual even though he looks AWFUL. Okay, not completely awful because somehow even when he’s sick, the way he looks at you could give you chills and suddenly you’re remembering that forehead kiss again and--

“Excuse me, miss? Can I get some more orange juice?”

“Yes, of course. One moment please,” you snap out of your thoughts and reply to your waiting tables.

Before going over to satisfy your customer’s request, however, you turn back to Zuko with a gentle smile. “I’ll bring you some toast and some fruit. I’m sure that’s all you’ll be able to keep down anyways.”

It didn’t take long for the kitchen to fill Zuko’s order and once it was complete, you headed back over to his direction. You had to stop right in your tracks for a moment though and take in the picture before you. In the booth sat a sleepy little Zuko still perched up on his hand but his eyes have fluttered shut. Noiselessly, you place down his plate of toast and fruit in front of him and gently nudge his shoulder to wake him up.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Eat as much as you can. I’ve got one more table to take care of before my shift ends. Then you can drive me home. If you can stay awake, that is.”

“Mmmmmm thanks,” he muttered into his hand. 

You left him to pick at his food while you finished up with your last table. When you returned to Zuko about twenty minutes later, you jokingly congratulated him on eating half of his toast and a couple pieces of cantaloupe-- probably more than you had eaten when you had the flu yourself. As you started taking away his plate, you caught Zuko reaching into his pocket to take out his wallet. Knowing what little you actually served him, you stopped him before he could take out more bills than was necessary.

“No, stop. We talked about this. I don’t take tips from friends.”

“It’s only fair and it’s the right thing to do.”

“No. You took care of me when I was sick, that covers it fine.”

“How ‘bout another tip? You should wear your hair up more often. It looks nice like that.”

“Here’s one for you. You’re delirious. Give me your keys, I’m driving.”

With that, your shift was over and you were gathering your things to go home. Zuko did manage to put up a little bit of a fight over letting you drive but once you shot him your “I’m serious, mister” look, he finally gave in. It was a short drive back home but you couldn’t help but glance over at your passenger every now and again. It was rare to see Zuko in such a state as he is always the put-together one in the friend group. That wave of guilt rushes over you again since you were the one that got him sick in the first place.

“No, it was the forehead kiss. His own fault,” you mumble to yourself.

“What?”

“NOTHING. Uh, Katara still has some leftover soup. Why don’t you come up and have some? OH! And we can finish Toy Story 2 since someone didn’t let me finish it last time.”

“I’ll come for the soup but not for the movie.”

“ZUKO. I was cured by the nostalgic joy of my childhood, it can cure you, too!!”

“I don’t have any ‘nostalgic joy from my childhood’ in case you forgot. My mother left, my father scarred my face, and my sister hates me.”

Thankful you had come to a red light, you looked over to Zuko with concern. But he did not look back. His head was leaning on the window and with his arms folded, he avoided your gaze and continued to stare out the window.

“Well, all the more reason to finish the movie,” you tried to say lightheartedly, but the rest of the drive was silent.

Once you’ve reached the apartment, you ordered Zuko to make himself comfy on the couch while you threw some soup in the microwave. You spy a note on the kitchen counter from Katara explaining that she’s out to lunch with Aang and Sokka went to the gym with Suki. You smiled, happy that you could avoid good-natured sibling teasing for the time being. When the soup was ready, you turned to find Zuko sitting on the couch under a pile of blankets and holding the remote for the DVD player.

“I thought you didn’t want to finish the movie,” you questioned, handing him the bowl of soup.

“But you do.”

Your grinned ecstatically, quickly moving to sit next to him on the couch.

“You shouldn’t get too close. You’ll get sick again.”

“I’m immune now, it’s fine,” you said as you reached to share one of his blankets.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. At all,” he replied, but his protests ended there as the movie started back up.

As you were getting yourself comfortable on the couch, your arm grazed Zuko’s and your body shook, chilled from the cold skin. Zuko noticed immediately and looked over at you questioningly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, you’re just cold. Eat your soup, it’ll warm you up.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Um, I had to take those pills when you watched me so the least you can do is eat some soup.”

With a small smirk, Zuko obliged and ate a few spoonfuls of soup before laying back against the couch. You cuddled up closer to him, figuring if the soup doesn’t warm him up, you definitely could. Once you rested your head on his shoulder, his head gently tilted to rest on yours, a much familiar scene from the time you were sick. Although the roles have been reversed this time around, the warmth of happiness bursting through your chest from this closeness is unchanged. You felt his left arm wrap around you before settling at your waist, and you reach up with your right hand to hold onto his. Sure, Toy Story 2 isn’t a romantic movie by any means, but it makes you happy. Just like Zuko does.

The movie ends with Wheezy singing his rendition of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” and you looked up at Zuko as if to say, “See? I told you Wheezy comes back. I love this part,” but he’s already asleep. It seems like you’ll never be able to get him to watch the whole movie, but you sighed contently anyways. Then, in a fit of sudden boldness, you sat up to inch closer to Zuko and kiss his cheek softly. 

He stirred and looked at you through drowsy, half-closed eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “I can’t kiss you back properly while I’m sick.”

You smiled and leaned in closer.

“I’ll settle for a forehead kiss for now.”

“Deal.” After giving to you what you asked for, he gazed admiringly at you for a few moments before falling back to sleep. You could have sworn he had a dopey grin on his face, too, and you wondered if this is what Katara saw on you the past few nights. You settle back against Zuko’s chest and let his breathing lull you to sleep. The two of you fell into such a deep sleep, while in each other’s arms, that not even the sound of Katara and Sokka double hi-fiving after spotting you both on the couch woke you up.

[justimajin]

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 19

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 4.3k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away… …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13; pretty much the calm before the storm

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, July 21 

Nationals have left you feeling numb lately.

Although the thrill of playing at a state level and having the earnest training is more than enough, you find yourself eventually growing weary and desperately needing a break.

Which is why once your phone rings and the voice of your best friend comes through, you are extremely grateful to spend the entire evening rambling to her about all your experiences. However she poses a question you’re not sure on how to answer.

“So how come I haven’t met Yoongi yet?” Hyerin speculates, halting your sprawling words with her curiosity, “You’ve been together for a while now.”

“Oh.” You blink, “You’re right...I haven’t introduced you to Yoongi.”

“Do you guys have any upcoming games?” Your vision swings over to your brightly marked calendar, the next impending match being the following week.

“...I actually think our schedule will be free.”

“That’s great!” Hyerin exclaims, “You should bring Yoongi over and I can finally meet him. We could even drop by the school!”

“The school…?” Your voice grows reluctant and Hyerin senses it right away.

“It’ll be great Y/N!” She attempts to persuade you, but you know well enough that Hyerin probably has a more secondary purpose in doing so – namely getting you to come back at least once. 

Although you’re not hugely keen on suddenly reappearing at the school you had left months ago, Hyerin’s constant convincing eventually wears you down. You agree to her wishes with a sigh, wondering to yourself how you’re going to bring this idea up to the other party involved. 

***

Your grip tightens on the basketball, huffs of air leaving you. Your shoes roughly skid against the floor until you come to an eventual halt and push yourself off the ground. The ball ends up hitting the backboard of the basket, bouncing against it and then descending into the hoop. With a sigh of relief, you catch it and lazily dribble, eyes only perking up at the sight of a figure jogging over in your direction.  

Yoongi leans down to grab a towel, whipping away a sheen of sweat from his forehead. You awkwardly linger behind him, biting down on your lower lip. 

You were in the middle of nationals – the most important time of the year for your team. It truthfully wouldn’t take much to simply slip away for a single day, but you’re at such a crucial point in time that you find yourself backtracking on the promise you had given your best friend.

A loud whistle interjects your thoughts, your view drifting over to Namjoon who announces that practice was done for the day. You instantly spin around, abruptly making eye contact with Yoongi as he downs a water bottle.

“I–“

“Good work today Yoongi!” Namjoon pats Yoongi’s back, clearly happy with his performance as the latter simply resumes to quenching his thirst, “Training’s going to get harder in these next couple of days, so make sure you’re all prepared.”

You nod as Namjoon smiles at the two of you, eventually detaching from Yoongi and gesturing for him to follow. A dejected sigh slips out from you, but it’s quickly replaced with surprise once Yoongi tells Namjoon that he’ll leave in a minute.

Eyes widening, Yoongi turns around and furrows his brows. 

“Did you want to tell me something?” His entire interest is pointed towards you now and there’s a faint ray of pink creeping onto your features from the sudden attention.

“I uh, well,” You aimlessly play around with your hands, “My best friend has been wanting to meet you and she thought it would be a good idea to visit my old high school together...”

You dart a glimpse at him, wondering if he was contemplating the idea during the time of the nationals. To your complete surprise though, Yoongi isn’t taken aback with it.  

“Sure, when do you want to go?”

Your eyes are huge, “Really?”

Yoongi shrugs, “Why not? It’ll help to get away from this,” He gestures around to the exhausted set of individuals in your team making their way back to their dorms after yet another prolonged day of practice, “and you said she’s your best friend?”

You nod and Yoongi softly smiles, “Then I’ll definitely need to meet her.”

A huge smile scatters across your features from his response. Here you were petrified about the whole prospect’s ill timing, but Yoongi seems to understand your intentions and you can’t contain the excitement of Hyerin finally getting to meet him.

***

You teeter-totter on your heels, glancing down at the way your bright crimson dress sprays out and frills at the bottom. There’s a black bag tightly snugged underneath your shoulder, the long deceiving locks on your head pushed back into a high ponytail.

Your hair bounces as you sharply turn, the door in front of you revealing your best friend's characteristic smile. 

“You made it!”

You grin, letting her tug you inside, “Wow Y/N, dressing up when you’re with Yoongi, huh?”

A cheeky smile is on Hyerin’s lips but you sheepishly shake your head, “It’s not like that.”

Truthfully, you dress like this more for yourself. It's a bit of a selfish request on your behalf, but since you’re usually adorned in the same jersey and pair of shorts everyday, you eventually discovered how much you’ve missed having a decent choice in between your appearance. However, the fact that you’ve especially put more effort into it because Yoongi will be joining you…perhaps isn’t too far fetched.

“Is it too much?” You abruptly question, wide eyes left deliberating as Hyerin chuckles and shakes her head.

“I think you look nice.” She pushes out a chair for you to sit on, something you’re grateful for when the heels slip out of your feet. Hyerin joins you on the opposite side of the table, planting a hand on her cheek and staring at you with eager eyes.

“Well? What is he like?” The abrupt interest amuses you, eyes soon lost in thought.

“I guess……” You jut out your bottom lip, searching for the right answer, “...cute?”

“Cute?” Hyerin laughs, “Really?”

“Yeah…” You laugh alongside her, wondering to yourself why out of all words – that’s the one you feel describes him the best, “Don’t say that to him though, he won’t like it.”

“So he’s cute but doesn’t like to be called cute?” Hyerin mulls over it and raises her brows, “Didn’t you say he’s the Captain of your team? And that he’s really strict with you?”

You instantly nod, “That’s all true, but he has this side to him that’s very…soft?” A giggle escapes you at the weird word usage again, “Like he’s only gets strict with us if no one’s listening during practice or if we’re all doing something wrong, but behind that Captain side of his is someone who really cares and just wants the best for me.” 

You sheepishly laugh, ignoring the flush of pink spreading over you. It’s strange to put your image of Yoongi into coherent sentences, but you can’t ignore the amount of times he’s been there for you and in turn how much great admiration you have for him. You catch a glimpse of Hyerin’s expression in the midst of your thoughts, noticing she has both her hands planted on her cheeks, gazing at you as if you were telling her the greatest story in existence.

You blink, startled from her undivided attention. She laughs at your reaction and you meekly sink back down into your seat, growing bashful. A soft knock resonates against the door, and Hyerin instantly rises from her spot. 

A smug smile curls at the corner of her lips, “Looks like I get to find out for myself~”

You quickly get up and smooth down your skirt as Hyerin approaches the door. Quietly following behind her, a deep voice echoes through the halls.

“Oh, so you’re Yoongi!” Hyerin exclaims and from the corner of your eye, you see her arm move as if to shake his hand.

She whirls around, “Hey Y–“ You appear closer to the door, still leaning against the wall.

Surprise spreads through you when Yoongi glances in your direction, dressed in a loose white-shirt and a black leather jacket. His hands are wrapped around a bag which he seems to be in the midst of offering to Hyerin. The look his eyes send you throws you a bit off guard, a shy ray of pink brimming on your features.

Yoongi steps in and Hyerin closes the door, spinning around and gesturing for you to sit down on her couch. Planting yourself down, you smile when Yoongi settles in beside you and gives you a sheepish grin, his darting eyes and fumbling hands giving you a clear indication of what he was currently feeling being there at the moment. 

Hyerin soon pokes her head out and sits opposite to you, a giant smile on her lips. However, her eyes then land on Yoongi and for a moment, you could have sworn you could see some displeasure spark in them.

“So.” She begins, “I’ve heard you’re the Captain of the team Y/N’s on.”

Yoongi nods, fisting his jeans in his hands, “I met her during try-outs.”

She hums, “How long have you guys been together?”

Yoongi frowns, glancing in your direction when you begin to backtrack too. It wasn’t something the two of you were really keeping track of.

“A couple of months now?” You warily stare at him and he nods, content with the answer before darting his eyes back at Hyerin.

Hyerin hums again, crossing his legs and keeping a curious finger against her lips.

“When did you find out about Y/N being a girl?”

“I found out before she got selected for the team. I also knew that she was wearing a wig to disguise herself.” You pout when Yoongi grins at you and Hyerin’s eyes light up.

“You knew about that atrocious wig?” 

Yoongi tilts his head and pursues his lips, “I wouldn’t say it was atrocious but strange. Her natural hair is prettier.”

A profuse blush accompanies his words and Hyerin grins.

“What else do you like about Y/N?”

“It’s hard to say,” Yoongi gazes at you and for some reason, you automatically shrink from the attention, “I think there’s too many things.”

“She’s a really determined person.” Hyerin mentions and Yoongi nods.

“When I found out she was disgusting herself as a guy just for basketball...” He chuckles, “I think I first hand saw that determination up close.”

She hums, “But she can be really too shy at times.”

“It adds to her charm,” Yoongi’s eyes turn tender and at this point, you kind of want to just disappear. “And also makes it fun to tease her.”

Hyerin jumps in her seat, “Right?!”

You watch them continue discussing all your little quirks and traits like they were talking about their favourite person in the world and you can only gape at how much Yoongi seems to be enjoying it. But that’s when Hyerin leans forward, becoming daring with her curious inquiries. 

“So you’ve guys only kissed, right?” Your eyes are wide, frozen solid in place. 

“For now.” Yoongi says with the most deadpan expression you’ve ever seen on him. His answer baffles you, his eyes briefly meeting yours and leaving you speechless. You only snap out of it when he lets out a low snicker, breaking into full laughter as he takes in your startled appearance and you resort to sighing at his teasing.  

“Well then.” Hyerin relaxes, leaning back. She crosses her arms, eyes sharply narrowing.

You’re taken back to the interrogation style she was first using on Yoongi before becoming comfortable, the intensity feeling increased this time around.

“I guess it’s only fair for me to ask this now.” Hyerin states, drawing all of your attention, “do you, Min Yoongi, intend on marrying Y/N in the future?”

A cluster of coughs violently escape your body. Hyerin passes you a bottle of water, something you down right away before exchanging wide eyes between her and Yoongi.

“I was being serious.” Hyerin mentions, “I only want Y/N to be happy in the end, so I have to check.”

“We’re in high school.” Yoongi brings up, as if stating the obvious. You hurriedly nod, backing up his words.

“I-It’s way too early for that….”

Hyerin isn’t satisfied though, “Let’s say some time in the future – not now.” She sharply interjects, eyeing both of you intently, “You’re near that age. What about then?”

You shake your head, “That’s really far too off Hyerin, I don’t think–“

“It’s not impossible.”  Yoongi mutters, staring at the ground, “At least, that’s what I think.”

Your eyes are the widest they can be, skin utterly red at this point. Hyerin notices the exchange and bursts out laughing, resulting in you being even more flushed.

“Well, I got my answer.” She wipes away a tear and gets up, “Come on. I think that’s enough questions for now.”

You nod, warily placing the glass in your hand back on the table. Yoongi rises from his seat the same time you do, occasionally taking glimpses at the window outside. In the meanwhile, you can only stare at him in surprise  as you wait for Hyerin, a small unmistaken smile rising on your lips. 

***

It’s bizarre being in the same place you left months ago.

Hyerin’s excited when she shows you around the classrooms and the old cafeteria again, reminiscing on the moments you would spend whispering to each other when you were bored in class to eating lunch together. Although you truly loved the school and enjoyed your time being with your best friend, it almost seems like you’re revisiting a stepping stone that was in the way of what you really wanted to do – and it becomes even more apparent the moment you enter the school’s gym.

It piques your immediate interest, recollecting memories of wandering into it during late hours just to practice playing basketball. It also reminds you of the time you had been stuck with the girl’s recreational team, the rules of the game and all the seriousness being replaced with somber and lazy playing instead.

It’s something Yoongi notices as well, “The gym is really…small.”

“We’re not really a school that focuses on sports.” Hyerin mentions, grabbing a basketball from a nearby cart and tossing it over to you, “Y/N used to practice here though.”

As your hands trace against the rough texture of the ball, you can only huff at the dress and heels you’re wearing. It’s the first time you sincerely wish to be wearing the jersey and pair of shorts you’ve gotten accustomed to and Yoongi smiles when you push off your shoes and throw the ball towards the hoop.

The ball instantly sinks in and Hyerin victoriously exclaims, to which you smile and continue dribbling. Yoongi shifts over with crossed arms, eyeing your best friend.

“They don’t have a competitive team here?” He whispers, still observing you knab another basket.

“No, only recreational ones.” Hyerin sighs, “They gave the title of being competitive to the boys team since the girls team was basically non-existent for our school.”

Yoongi hums and Hyerin gestures towards you, “Y/N was a part of the team for a while but she hated it. That’s when she started practicing on her own though it still wasn’t enough.”

“I can tell.” Yoongi says right away, “Y/N’s too good at basketball to not play competitively.”

Hyerin nods, but then a chuckle leaves her, “It’s actually funny, it seems like just yesterday she was telling me about how amazing Bangtan Sonyeondan’s record is and their statistics. I didn’t think she would want to go to such lengths to be on the team.”

“It was surprising.” Yoongi recollects the moment he had found out about your secret, a million scenarios running through his mind as to why you would do it only to be answered in the simplest way – your love for basketball.

A smile quirks on Hyerin’s lips, “Even more surprising that she’s dating the captain now.” There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes, “So did Y/N confess first?”

Yoongi pursues his lips, sending a glare in her direction, “You just want me to fess up.”

“Hm? So you were the one to take her out on a date first?” Hyerin smugly smiles and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“She told you?”

“Of course she did, she’s my best friend.” Hyerin retorts the obvious and Yoongi sighs, eyes still lingering on you, “Besides, you’re around her more these days so I don’t know what’s going on with her right away.”

Yoongi raises a brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have to be my eyes.” Hyerin crosses her arms, voice lowering as she stares at Yoongi, “Don’t let her get hurt, okay?”

Yoongi scoffs, stuffing his hands in his jacket’s pockets, “Do you even need to ask me that?”

“Hey, I have to know.” Hyerin presses, needing a clearer answer. “Do you promise?” 

Yoongi glances in her direction, giving her a sincere look. 

“Promise.”

“Good.” Hyerin spins around, ogling at your effortless dribbling around the court, “Damn, how are you still so good at playing basketball in a dress?”

You giggle, mid-way in between taking a shot, “It’s honestly a lot harder than it looks.”

“Here, let me try!” You hand Hyerin the basketball and she takes a flimsy shot. The ball hits against the rim and falls right back onto the ground within seconds. Yoongi snorts, and she glares at him.

“I don’t need any extra sound effects Captain.” She attempts to take another shot but the ball flies up into the air and then descends down, barely reaching the basket. You and Yoongi share a glance, clearly trying to conceal the laughter from brimming up.

Hyerin lets go of the basketball in exasperation, letting it roll as the two of you are still keeping your laughter at bay. The ball continues to roll until it hits a pair of feet.

You glance behind Hyerin to see where it could have gone, the bright smile you were holding instantly dropping.

“Y/N?” The ball is in his hands, his eyes wide and astonishment written over him, “You came back?”

You grimace from his tone, sounding more accusatory than pleasant, “Still didn’t get accepted into a competitive team, huh?” He dribbles the basketball with a shrewd grin, “That’s tragic.”

Hyerin grows furious at your prolonged silence. She’s prepared to march right up to this guy and let him have a piece of her mind, but she ends up being too late.

Yoongi reaches out his hand, “Can we have the basketball back?”

The boy frowns, staring at Yoongi intently until the recognition snaps into him.

He completely ignores his request, “Aren’t you part of that team…uh Bangtan something?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, instead he swiftly retrieves the ball in the midst of his dribbling and hands it over to you.

“It’s actually Bangtan Sondeyeon.” Yoongi states, “Currently the leading team in this year’s nationals.”

His eyes widen and you could have sworn Yoongi had smirked for a moment, but it disappears as he nonchalantly strolls back to your side of the court.

Hyerin smiles, “Have fun with your losing team!” You watch as he turns with a scoff, shoulders tightened before leaving the gym.

“Idiot.” Hyerin mumbles underneath her breath.

“Who was that?” Yoongi ponders.

“Well our very own lovely competitive team is always lurking around here in some corner.” She sighs, “They're all just annoying and used to bother Y/N a lot back in the days.”

Yoongi glances at you surprised and you shrug, “Not the nicest of people.”

“I bet they haven’t even made it to nationals with their bogus attitudes.” Hyerin crosses her arms and whirls around, “Anyways, you guys want to head out?”

You nod, following her out.

***

“Are you going back soon?” Hyerin questions, standing in front of the door to her house.  

You nod, “We have practice early in the morning for our next game.”

Hyerin hums, “I see….”

“Oh!” You abruptly face her, “How have your parents been? Last time we met, I was getting ready to move.”

“They should be back home by tonight. I was going to actually ask if you wanted to stay over…”

Her voice grows quieter and you pursue your lips. Although you wouldn’t have normally hesitated, you know this isn’t solely your call to make.

“How many practices do we have this week?”

Yoongi darts his eyes up, “A couple. Are you planning to miss them?”

“Just one.” You smile, “Hyerin wants me to stay back but I’m not sure if missing tomorrow’s practice will be great.”

“You’re not going to be here for a while, right?” Yoongi shrugs, “I’d say go for it. Who knows when you’ll get time like this again?”

 You hum, eyes lighting up as you whirl around to face Hyerin with a smile, “Well looks like I’ll be staying for the night.”

There’s a huge grin on her features and she rushes to unlock the door, ushering you inside. Yoongi asks if you can bring his bag back and you leave to retrieve it from the house, leaving the two of them alone at the door frame.

“It was nice to finally meet you Captain.” Hyerin remarks, reaching out her hand for him to shake, “It’s reassuring to know Y/N has someone like you around.”

Yoongi softly smiles, reciprocating the handshake, “It honestly goes both ways.”

Something flickers in Hyerin’s eyes, quickly darting to see you still occupied. Her voice drops down into a whisper, a questioning gaze directed at Yoongi.

“If you could describe her with one word, what would you pick?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at that, his attention being whisked away when you abruptly dart your head up from the couch with a huge smile. “Found it!”

He chuckles, leaning closer to Hyerin.

“Cute.” He watches you head over, “Really cute. But don’t tell her that, she’ll get too flustered.”

Hyerin’s eyes are astonishingly wide by the time you make it over, handing Yoongi’s his bag. He leans forward, softly pecking your lips before tugging the bag onto his shoulder.

“I’ll see you at the next practice.” He whispers gently, making his way down the front door’s steps. You remain frozen in place, not expecting him to kiss you so suddenly with your best friend nearby.

Hyerin laughs at your naive eyes, clasping onto your wrist and dragging you inside. 

***

Your best friend sighs, rummaging through her fridge, “Well at least now I know who this Yoongi guy is that you kept talking about.”

“It seemed like you two were getting along pretty well.” You warmly smile, seated at the kitchen counter and watching her with intrigued eyes. 

“Of course.” Hyerin takes out a huge stack of sliced meats, presumably for dinner, “Any boyfriend of my best friend is a friend of mine.”

You quirk an eyebrow, “Probably helped because you’re very similar as well.”

“Similar?” Hyerin freezes, staring at you in astonishment, “Please, I’m much better.”

You giggle and Hyerin closes the fridge, clearly exhausted from hauling out all the ingredients currently layered onto the counter. “Alright, I got everything my mom wanted.” She grabs a glass of water and hands you one as well, plopping down onto the seat beside you, “Now, we relax!”

You smile and take a sip, “So when are nationals ending? Are they running the games till the end of the school year?”

“No, it’s supposed to end before then. I think it’s mandatory for all the different teams competing this year.”

Hyerin hums, “What about graduation then? Any plans for that?”

You pause, wondering what she meant by that until it finally dawns onto you, “Right…graduation…”

“Did you forget? Or did the whole transferring to another school mess that up for you?”

“No, you’re right but–“ You press your lips together, features tense, “I’m not the same Y/N.”

Hyerin widens her eyes, placing her water on the counter in realization, “Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you about that. What are you going to do Y/N?”

“I can still technically graduate…”

But everyone only knows about me being a boy.

“…I-I don’t think I can see anyone after I do though…”

Fear fills your eyes when you glance up at Hyerin. Truthfully, you had been so ecstatic with the prospect of playing competitively at the moment that you hadn’t thought through the ramifications your secret will bring. Although leaving the school shouldn’t be a problem because you’ve only had a mere identity switch, the relationships and friendships you’ve created will all surely become jeopardized once you leave.

“What’s the next step from all this then?” Hyerin whispers, placing her arm on your shoulder, “What’s going to happen after graduation?” 

You don’t answer, only one solution swimming around in your mind that could potentially work. However, you just wonder what type of impact it’ll end up causing.

Is it time you no longer keep your identity a secret?

[sherlollydramoine]

Which Malek Twin is Better in Bed: An Experiment; Part Two

@theultraviolencefan

Word Count: 9500. This is a big boy. 

This is Sami’s part but there may be some bonus Rami. I did the best I could. Sorry this took so long but I had some struggles. Special shout-out to @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, and @breadnbutternips for your input, guidance, suggestions, and overall support. I swear I wouldn’t keep writing if it wasn’t for you wonderful ladies. <3  I love you all. 

Warnings: Protected/Unprotected Sex, Slightly dom-ish behavior, alcohol consumption referenced, some fluff, some self-indulgent random sort of Pride & Prejudice references. 

Part One ( H E R E )

You’d been in a fantastic mood since Tuesday night and the people you were closest too had definitely taken notice. Currently you didn’t possess the ability to stop laughing, singing and dancing around playfully and you could thank Rami for that. The entire experience with him had rocked your world in ways that you could never imagine. According to some of your other friends you’d been wound a little tight as of late, and the intensely amazing orgasms Rami had given you had left you a lot more relaxed. 

When the boys both texted you and asked if you wanted to meet them for brunch you had happily accepted. You joked that it had been a stroke of luck that you all wanted to enjoy the weather on the outdoor patio and there were no other patrons choosing to do the same.

Your jovial mood was more than obvious at your brunch meet up with twins that Friday because the state you were in had been a topic of conversation on and off for the last half hour. The only damper on the mood had been that Rami was acting a little out of character today. He was still your happy friend; smiling, laughing, and cracking his smart ass jokes but whenever tomorrow came up, he withdrew a little bit his smile definitely turning into a slight frown.

You were determined to not allow his odd behavior to dictate your mood at this point so you’d just continue to smile and laugh at the witty banter between the two men. It was an ongoing inside joke that the two of them should have a stand-up routine. Whenever they were together around you, you were always in stitches at their antics. The fame had not changed Rami in that way even though he is a lot more guarded now than he used to be.

“Damn bro what did you do to her?” Sami jokes, taking another bite of his sandwich. .

“Nothing out of the ordinary, other than prove that I can fuck her better than you can," Rami says wearing a proudly smug look on his face. 

“I guess I’m going to have to up my game for tomorrow then,” Sami shoots back and Rami frowns so slightly you almost missed it.

 He must have noticed you silently observing him because he reaches down grabbing a fry from his plate, popping into his mouth and shooting you a wink.You sat back and watched him chew, then swallow, before his gorgeous eyes found yours as he began inquiring about how you were feeling about tomorrow.

"So, YN, are you looking forward to your date with my brother tomorrow?" Rami asks. You felt as if the question was a little odd and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why the hell he’d want to know this information.

"Of course I am Ram. Just as excited as I was before our date. Why? Am I not supposed to be?" 

“I don’t know YN. You aren’t feeling any kind of apprehension at all? Nervousness?”

“Ram, I. I don’t know how I feel. Excited for sure, maybe a little nervous. It’s not an easy decision to have relations with someone and still come out of it just friends. Why? Do you want me to be nervous or something? Is this some kind of trick question?”

Uncertain as to what was happening to you internally;  the more Rami questions, the more anxious you start to feel about this whole thing. 

“Did you want me to call this whole thing off Ram? It isn’t fair to your brother though, is it? That you got to fuck me but he didn’t. I thought the whole fucking point of this thing was to figure out once and for all which one of you was better in bed?! I’m not backing away from the challenge, that if I remember correctly I was hesitant to agree to because I am terrified that this whole ‘experiment’ will irrevocably damage our long standing friendship. I can’t help but feel like I’m being interrogated or something; I’ve committed no crime.” you say a little more sharply than you actually intended. 

Your eyes try to scan his face for some read on what he could be thinking. 

“I just thought that maybe you’d be nervous is all,” he half-whispers, eyes cast downward clearly internally struggling to make sense of something. 

“I am! Jesus H Christ. Rami I was so nervous Tuesday night that I almost called the whole thing off. I love you both and I would never want to jeopardize our friendship over a fuck.”

Something you’d said must have set him off because his lips formed a hard line and he pushed away from the table with such force that the metal cafe chairs you were all seated in made a cacophonous racket against the concrete. You watch him take a deep breath and stand up, pushing his chair toward the table a little more forcefully than he may have intended. You watch in confusion as he tosses his napkin down next to his plate that holds his barely touched food before he wordlessly walks away, you assume towards the bathrooms.

"Sam did I do or say something wrong?" you ask on the verge of tears. 

“No YN, I don’t think you did. Sometimes he just-he is moody that’s all. I think maybe this new project that he’s been prepping for may be exacting a toll on him and his stress is coming out in some form of misplaced anger or something. I just call him Mr. Moody when he gets like this. Perhaps it’s an actor thing? I don’t really know,” came his response with a slight smirk. You were definitely not prepared to deal with the asshole-ish behavior this morning. Irritation begins to  settle in and you wanted to slap that famous Malek smirk right off of Sami’s face just as badly as you wanted to smack Rami in the side of his head for acting like a jerk. 

"I know, I've dealt with him before when he gets like this," you retort with a sigh. Rami is definitely more high strung and sometimes dealing with him during role prep can be emotionally exhausting for everyone around him. Everyone knows about his level of dedication and commitment to performing as authentically as possible, which meant that everyone just dealt with his affectionately dubbed ‘role prep insanity.’

Taking a few deep breaths of your own you come to the decision of ‘fuck him,’ if he wants to be an ass then you’d let him but you were going to try your best to not let him dictate your mood any further. Sami and you continue eating and making casual conversation until Rami comes back, wearing a stoic expression, the Malek poker face and he isn't very verbose. The one thing that you couldn't miss were his eyes;  red and puffy as if he'd been crying. He undoubtedly could  feel your eyes on him when you caught his gaze, he managed a small strained smile and then pulled his sunglasses from atop his head down his nose as he settled them in place on his perfect face.

For the most part the remainder of brunch passed almost amicably with the two of them, everyone deluded into believing that there hadn’t been any issue in the first place. Rami did keep his sunglasses firmly in place which carefully guarded his expressive eyes and you couldn’t help but to wonder if he was attempting to use them as a diversion, a mask, or some kind of shield. 

Conversation flowed easily enough after Rami had ordered himself a few more mimosas, which were an indulgence he’d never openly admit to . He became quite animated and excitable as he began to talk to the both of you about his latest project, the one he was leaving for on Sunday.on he did speak it was openly about the latest project that he was leaving for on Sunday. You’d never tire of watching him discuss his upcoming projects, the excitement that radiates from him is contagious making everyone else around him share that energy. You highly suspect that’s why people enjoy working with him so much; the little bean was always a ball of high energy enthusiasm, he attacks everything with every bit of skill he has. 

The happy mood that had tentatively settled over the table quickly dissipated once Sami brought up his plans for tomorrow and it pained you to watch as Rami completely shut down. He stopped talking and sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. He honestly reminded you of a toddler throwing a temper tantrum, like Rami did once when you were six and he was being forced to eat the three pieces of broccoli that had been served to him. The moment the waitress reappeared holding the large black envelope that contained the check Rami just wordlessly handed her his credit card.

You could feel his eyes on you as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair. You couldn't help feeling as if you'd done something wrong and you found yourself fighting back tears. In all the years that you’d know the Malek twins neither of them had ever made you feel the kind of uncomfortable that you were feeling now. Neither of them had ever been a reason for you to cry and you’d be damned if you let that happen now.

Pushing back from the table so quickly that the heavy metal chair nearly tipped over, you shot to your feet and rapidly muttered out,"I guess, ummm,  if you've got this, thank you Rami for brunch. I appreciate it very much and I’m excited for you and your project. Sami, I’ll see you tomorrow and Ram I hope you’re in a better mood on Sunday.”

With a nod of your head towards each of the boys, you turned on your heel and exited the restaurant hurriedly. Fishing your keys out of your purse and unlocking your car door you slowly release the breath that you’d been unaware you were holding. 

Why was Rami acting like that? Was he jealous? Confusion wracking your brain as you attempt to try and puzzle out Rami and his moods. The man's mood swings were legendary but you chalk all that up as one of the reasons he’s such an incredibly talented actor, but they could give you whiplash sometimes. 

Settling back at  home trying to get the confusing Rami thoughts out of your head you resort to the one thing that had always helped clear your mind. You scrubbed every inch of your house from top to bottom. After all was said and done, the house shining with absolute perfection and reeking of the oversaturated ‘tropical’  floral scents you favored in your cleaning products, you settle on your sofa after a hot shower with some shitty leftover Chinese takeout and even shittier television. 

Sami sent you a very succinct text early Saturday morning to let you know that he’d be over to pick you up around noon time promising you a quiet picnic in the park. Sami was never jealous of his brother's success or his brother's money, but sometimes you got the feeling that the two of them were constantly competing in a weird way with each other. He was well aware that his brother had wined and dined you at one of the poshest restaurants in town. Sami couldn’t afford a place like that and you both knew it, and you’d never hold him the same bar his brother had set. He knew you just as well as Rami did, and he knew that you actually favored the small, quiet type of dates. Rami had only chosen the type of date that he had for the simple fact that his rise to fame did not afford him the luxury of anonymity anymore and maintaining his privacy was becoming increasingly more difficult in the digital age of instant uploads and ‘peeping Toms’. 

FIdgeting nervously with the buttons on your light cardigan feeling the familiar sort of butterflies in your stomach feeling that you’d had prior to your date with Rami, you nearly jump out of your skin when the doorbell rang out loudly. You couldn’t help the small timid smile as you swung the door open to a beaming Sami. He looked so adorable standing there in some dark, tight fitting jeans and a t-shirt with a large blanket draped over his shoulder and an old school style picnic basket in the crook of his left elbow. 

"Ready?" he asks confidently as he reaches out to grab your hand. 

"Let's go Sami, let's go,"you tell him through your timid smile. 

You knew you wouldn’t be gone long but you let go of his hand for a few moments to lock your front door. While your neighborhood was considered quite safe and there wasn’t a lot of crime in your housing area, this was still Los Angeles and you weren’t going to take any chances. 

You turn back around, dropping the keys into your small cross body bag as you place your left hand in Sami’s right one as the two of you head off towards the small neighborhood park. 

Taking a turn about the park before scouting out the perfect place to lay the blanket out, Sami makes a joke about feeling like Caroline Bingley and Elizabeth Bennet as they casually stroll around the large drawing room at Netherfield Park. You couldn’t help but joke back about how he would actually be the perfect Charles Bingley, sitting back and observing making silly jokes. His quiet laugh brought on a small giggle of your own. 

“Very astute in your observations of me YN, but wouldn’t I be more suited to Mr. Darcy?”

“Not at all. You are much too relaxed and far more playful.You aren’t conceited enough to be a proper Caroline Bingley either, Rami would definitely be more suited to Mr. Darcy. He’s broody as hell but secretly in love with me,” you joke back, completely unaware of actual accuracy of your statement. 

Sami snorts but doesn’t say much after that, his primary focus was on setting out the blanket perfectly so that you were both in a position to either sit in the sun or in the shade that the large tree offered. 

Once he had everything positioned exactly as he wanted it to be, he gestures for you to have a seat and finding the perfect half shaded half sunny spot you attempt to gracefully sit. He sets the basket down to your left as he maneuvers his body so that you are situated between his legs. This position afforded you both views of the many people mulling about the park. Your favorites were the older couples out for an afternoon stroll, hand in hand. 

“So Charles, how are you feeling this fine afternoon?”

“Why Miss Bennett, I do believe that I am feeling fine, especially now that I get to enjoy your company. I’m pretty sure that this is considered quite inappropriate as we are unchaperoned.”

The laugh that left you was infectious as he joined you. 

“Very well my good Sir, considering that you are already planning on defiling me later I suppose that it is a good thing that we are unaccompanied on this warm day.I sure wouldn’t want any witnesses to whatever debauchery lay before us.”

You feel him shift his weight as he sits up a little straighter and whispers in your ear,  "All things considered YN, you have bewitched me body and soul."

“Oh you naughty, naughty boy. You know exactly what Mr. Darcy quotes do to me,” you scold as you playfully smack him on his arm. “You’ve always been such a charmer Sami. Actually you were always so suave and smooth.”

“Oh hell. Not this shit again. Everyone always says that but I seriously used to feel so awkward and weird. 

“No Sam, awkward and weird, that’s your brother,” you laugh out again. Sami is definitely bringing out the best in you today. The butterflies from earlier had disappeared now being replaced with a loud rumbling as your stomach makes you well aware of the fact that you haven’t eaten yet today. 

“That is the most accurate statement about Rami I’ve ever heard YN. You know the both of us so well.”

“I just can’t believe that you remembered my favorite book.”

“Why do you say that? You think I wouldn’t remember those kinds of things about one of my best friends?”

“I never know exactly what you or your brother do or don’t remember.”

“More than you might think YN. Definitely way more than you think. I remember your favorite color, movie, flower, drink, meal, you sing to yourself when you are really happy, you dance when you think no one is watching, you can fall asleep nearly anywhere as long as you have a blanket, you are always cold but you never complain about it, you bite your lip when you are concentrating, you curse like a sailor and make no apologies for it. You march to the beat of your own drum. You are a breath of fresh air sometimes and it is beautifully refreshing.”

“I bite my lip when I’m concentrating?”

“Yeah, you also furrow your brows and chew on your nails when you are attempting to puzzle something out.”

“Damn man. I didn’t think-I had no idea I had so many tells.”

“Rami and I have known you forever YN, of course we’d know these things after so long a friendship.”

You smile to yourself as your stomach rumbles again and he casually asks if you are hungry.

"Starving."

You pull your body away from his chest and turn to sit facing him on the blanket while he reaches over and pulls the basket between the two of you removing an array of plastic containers filled with food, disposable plates, disposable cutlery and a few bottles of ice cold water.

Jaw slackening at the sheer volume of food options laid before you, looking up at him you couldn’t help but ask,"Sam, did you make all of this yourself?" 

"Yeah most of it. Rami did help out a little bit but I think that was mostly because his skinny ass just wanted the extras,"he laughs out in response as he begins to plate the food.

“You’re feast madam, is ready,”he intones using a poorly mimicked, possible sort of English accent. 

Bowing your head you couldn’t help but to croon back in an equally bad accent, “Thank you kindly Sir.”

Both of you all smiles as you sit together on the blanket in the sunshine as you eat just making casual small talk, sharing jokes and sipping from the cold water bottles.The casual atmosphere of the date definitely had the both of you feeling incredibly relaxed as the sun beat down on your back. The genuine smiles being exchanged was not unnoticed by other park patrons. 

You overheard an older couple walking through the soft grass nearby comment about how the two of you reminded them of themselves about forty years ago, which set off a fit of giggles between the two of you. 

Finishing your meal, leaving the used items stacked haphazardly on one side of the blanket you settle back between Sami’s legs as he wraps his arms around your waist. People watching was one of your favorite activities and the two of you often made it a fun game when you both played together. Making up random commentary or dialogue of the park's random assortment of visitors, giggling at some of the antics of the children observing how much fun some of the families in the park were having just running amok. Some children had popsicles that were half-melted in their tiny fists. There was a smattering of young couples that had a similar idea as the two of you and were sprawled on blankets snuggling in, some openly kissing, a group of teenagers near the basketball court smoking and shoving one another, and some older couples just strolling around the park. 

This afternoon had been gorgeously sunny and warm but surprisingly not too hot. The warmth of the air, and the feeling of Sami's arms around you made your mind start wandering to Rami.You began to question why you were having the intrusive thoughts about Rami, and then your mind took a sharp turn to the left and you were stunned at how easily you admitted to yourself about how fun it would be to be in this exact situation with him. Sitting on a blanket watching the children play, talking about having a family, placing small but meaningful kisses to each other's lips. You let out a sigh and shake your head hoping to rid your mind of those thoughts. It almost started to make this moment with Sami feel wrong but you were a woman on a mission, and you weren’t going to fail. This whole thing had been your idea in the first place and you weren’t going to back down from the challenge.

Somehow, managing to clear your mind of the wayward and fantastical thoughts of Rami, your body relaxes back into Sami’s arms where you pleasantly discover that you're content to stay. Time seems to fly and before you know it you’d spent twenty minutes joking about what was happening around you. The two of you making up dialogue for some of the other couples around you. Loud laughter from the two of you had other park patrons casting curious glances at the two of you, some shaking their heads and others smiling widely. 

A few beats passed between the two of you and he cleared his throat; was he ready to go?

“Sam it’s getting a little warm out did you want to-” you hesitate struggling to articulate that you wanted to leave without sounding too eager, “do you want to stay? Or do you want to go ahead and head back to mine?

He doesn't say anything but he nods his head, releasing you from his grip  and together you get everything cleared up, depositing the trash into the appropriate bins, shaking out the blanket and folding it up. You gather up the basket resting it in the crook of your elbow much as he had little over an hour earlier. Without thinking you reach out to offer him your hand which he accepts wearing a shy smile; slowly exhaling as the familiar comforting feeling settles over you both. 

The walk back to your house had consisted of you mostly chattering away about anything and everything to distract yourself. Looking over at Sami every once in a while he just appeared to be content to listen to whatever it was that you couldn’t stop yammering on about. 

Strolling up the driveway the butterflies came back tenfold and you find yourself feeling almost dizzy with anticipation. This wasn’t unexpected since the both of you knew that all of this was the point of the whole thing. Unlocking the door and kicking your shoes off nearly in the same manner that you’d done with Rami you almost laugh out loud. This doesn’t feel  awkward like it had with Rami but rather just an anxiousness. Could you go through with this?

Observing Sami as he kicks off his shoes as you had, and setting his basket down in nearly the same place that Rami had haphazardly tossed his stuff earlier in the week you let out a weak laugh. Sami cocked a brow at you as if to question what could be so funny but he didn’t press for details as you shook your head.

For the briefest of moments things felt awkward and you swear that you could nearly cut the tension with a knife but that was swiftly put to bed as Sami takes you by the hand and guides you into the living room, stopping only once you reach the sofa. 

Neither of you exactly sure how to proceed which was hard for you as you’d never been the one to completely take charge in most sexual matters. Rami had taken the lead earlier in the week and now you feel as if you’d made some incorrect assumptions about Sami. Between both twins you’d always presumed that he’d be the one to definitely take charge in all matters sexual in nature. 

Perching yourself on the arm of the sofa while Sami stood in front of you he grasps both your arms in his and roughly pulls you back into a standing position in front of him, his hands skating up your arms until his hands come to a stop on either side of your face. With a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth moments before his lips descend on yours. There was not an ounce of hesitation in the way his soft mouth works yours, his right hand settling on the back of your neck to pull your face closer to his.

Your body moving on its own accord, becoming putty in his hands melting into him as your hips unconsciously pressing into his. His left hand slowly drifting downwards from your face; his fingers deftly working the buttons of your cardigan open sliding it off your shoulders. The faux pearl buttons quietly clacking on the hardwood; something about that small noise awoke a primal part of yourself. 

Reaching down, grasping the hem of his shirt and lifting it up working together with him until it joined your cardigan in a crumpled heap on the floor. Seizing an opportunity to stare at his bare chest and arms for the first time in ages, viewing him now in a completely different light. You’d never seen Sami as the object of your sexual attention until this moment. Your eyes drinking in the sight of him; admiring the dark patch of hair on his chest, the light smattering of hair that trailed down into the waistband of his dark jeans, his strong arms and you felt a rush of heat to your core. Both brothers were physically identical but while Rami was lean, Sami was definitely fuller and you could appreciate the difference. 

You must have been ogling his body longer than intended because he let out a breathy little laugh, “Like what you see?”

You just smirk at him and reach out for him, your lips finding his this time as your bodies begin a semi-graceful, lustful dance down the hallway towards your bedroom. Neither of you break the kiss, even his hands snake around your waist and end up on your back, fingers locating the zipper of your dress. His skilled fingers tugging the tiny piece of metal,freeing you from the confines of your dress, you let out a small moan at the sensation of the soft fabric ghosting your skin as it flutters to the floor and settles in a pool around your bare feet. 

Your hips desperately trying to come in contact with his seeking the heated friction you were craving. The evidence of his arousal currently pressed into your pelvis elicits another small moan from you. You reach down and slither your hands into his jeans and into the waistband of his underwear. 

Gently grasping his firm length in your hand, you move your hand in the restricted space, sliding your thumb over the head of his cock and smearing the little beads of precum onto him as you begin to work him. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his forehead gently presses into yours, letting out small shaky breaths. 

Raising your chin slightly to reclaim his mouth, your hand still working him. He lets out a quiet moan against your mouth. When you withdraw your hand from his pants and begin fumbling with this belt, his hands gently come to rest on yours. Looking up to catch and hold his gaze, his eyes are half lidded, pupils blown wide and glassy with lust. 

"No, amira (princess), this is all about you. Don't worry about me."

Suddenly he lifts you into his arms and presses your back to the wall, the shock barely registering before you feel the roughness of his beard scraping along your skin as his mouth explores every inch of skin from navel to pelvis. 

Sami's mouth begins to lick and suck at your soft skin in between murmurs of how gorgeous you are. 

Your mouth opens and closes in a shocked silence as his lips graze over your center. Gasping as his beard scrapes against the sensitive flesh of your thighs, and the fingers of his right hand ghost along your panty line before roughly pulling them aside.

He ends up pushing you further along the wall as he places his shoulders under your knees,his left hand on your hip to steady the both of you as his tongue finds your clit and the fingers of his right hand find your slick center. 

"Oh fuck," you whine out your eyes nearly rolling back into your head, your head just thumping back against the wall, as your hips unconsciously buck into his face. His grip on your hip tightens and you're certain there will be bruises in the morning.

"Oh God Sami."

You press your thighs tight around his face, his beard adding to the delicious friction your body was seeking. Your hands come down in his hair, grabbing onto the chestnut strands as you start face fucking him. 

He responds by working his tongue and fingers at a much more rapid pace. Once he starts the come hither motion inside you, you nearly lose it. 

You respond with grunts, moans and desperate whiny pleas for him to not stop. Soon enough you came undone around him, screaming a nearly incoherent chorus of fucks, oh God's and his name. He doesn't stop until he's worked you through your orgasm and the trembling in your legs has subsided. 

He eases your legs off his shoulders and as you look at him you couldn't help the self satisfied smirk on your face. Your juices were coating his face from nose to chin. Sami's eyes lock with yours, a slow smirk creeping across his face as he slowly brings his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean. 

Removing his fingers from his mouth, eyes still locked with yours, licking his lips he says, "You taste so good YN. So damn good."

You let out a quiet moan before a giggle escapes.

"I bet you do too Sam. Come here I wanna taste you."

"No amira, this is all about you.”

You just wrap your arms around his neck and his lips found yours in a bruising kiss. The slow dance down the rest of the hallway ended once the back of your legs had hit the edge of your bed. Both of you were so turned on that neither of you hesitated to keep going.

“Lay back on the bed,” he instructs

You do as you were told and lift your hips to rid yourself of your panties, tossing them aside while he finishes removing his clothing.

You don’t notice when he pulls the condom out of the pocket of his jeans and effortlessly slips it on. It only felt like a few seconds had passed as his body doesn’t take long before his body is hovering over yours his hands coming to grip your hips.Letting out a slow breath as he eased himself inside of you. Sami’s hips stilled for a few moments giving you a chance to get used to the feel of him and when you whined out for him to move, he did. 

His hips pounding into yours and hitting every sweet spot inside of you while you claw at his shoulders and back, wanting nothing more than to pull him deeper into you. 

“Ohhhh Rami” you whine out and for just a moment you feel Sami’s hips stutter, still for a few seconds, and then continue moving. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you realize what you’ve just done. He doesn’t say anything at all as his right hand comes up and grabs your chin tightly. His hips never falter in their pace as he looks you in the eye and says,”Wrong brother.”

You weren’t expecting that reaction from him and the slight aggressiveness of his handling of you made you clench around him. The pleasure coursing through your body was very different to the pleasure you had been given by Rami and you were unsure of how you felt. 

Suddenly you feel his hands roughly pull your hips closer to his, as he pulls you damn near into his lap, his arms now firmly holding you around your waist as he fucks up into you. Sami buries his face in the crook of your neck for a moment before he takes the sensitive flesh at the base of your throat between his teeth as he sucks a mark into the flesh that you are certain is going to be a bright reddish purple in the morning, The hair from his beard scratching at your neck in a pleasant way just before you feel his hot breath on your ear.

“I bet you my brother didn’t make you feel this good.”

Those words made you moan into his shoulder as you come completely undone around him. He continues to fuck you through your second orgasm of the afternoon but it’s clear that he isn’t done with you yet. 

Without warning he releases you and you fall back onto the mattress.

“Such a good girl, so soft and compliant. Now I’m going to make you scream. I want you on all fours.”

You scramble to your knees quickly and he wastes no time reentering you from behind. Sami places his left hand on your hip and his right hand fists on your hair. 

"Say my name,"he breathlessly demands. 

You quietly mutter out his name but he wasn't satisfied with that. His grip in your hair tightens. Sami’s hips have set a brutal pace that have your fingers scrambling for purchase on anything. Pulling on your fitted sheet so hard that you end up pulling the soft blue material right off the corner of the mattress. The blood pounding in your ears as another orgasm quickly approaches you hear Sami saying something.

" Say my name. Louder." He demands again, as his left hand comes down to circle your clit.

You couldn’t help it, you let loose and you scream out his name quite a bit louder than you had the first. He still wasn’t satisfied with your response. You can hear him barely keeping it together somehow staving off his orgasm as yours crashes around you. Legs trembling and your arms giving out making you face plant onto the soft mattress as you scream his name repeatedly. Clenching around him as you give in completely to the pleasure that has overtaken your body. 

Sami responds by tightening his grip on your hair as his body tenses and he cums with a shout of your name, Both of you gasping for air as he collapses onto your back in a sweaty heap of tangled limbs. 

Time seemed to pass too quickly after your encounter with Sami. It seems like as soon as the two of you had come back down to Earth you both got up and began the process of cleaning up. 

He left by three thirty that afternoon, which left you with way too much time on your hands to mull over the details from Tuesday and today. Could you accurately be able to figure out who had actually been better in bed? Why did everything feel so different with Rami than it had with Sami? Too many questions floating around your head and you were nervous. In less than twenty-four hours you’d have to deliver your verdict to the two of them. Did you just end up in an impossible situation? Head in your hands mostly in frustration. Both of them were stellar in bed. Why is this so hard?

Trying to drown out the thoughts running through your head you decide to distract yourself with cleaning. Starting in the bedroom, you strip the bedding and replace the soft blue colored linens with the silver gray colored ones that you’d had on the bed the night you and Rami had slept together. 

Picking up some other scattered laundry and doing some other menial chores around the house you realize that you were absolutely starving. Hours had passed since your picnic with Sami and the exertions of the afternoon were taking a toll. Deciding that there is no better time for pizza and wine, both a comfort to you, so that you could pull your thoughts together to be able to come to a decision about the boys.

 Picking up your phone and smiling at the picture on your background. It was a photo of the three of you at the Oscars with Rami the night that he’d won. He had jokingly called you his good luck charm, and even though he had brought his family, he insisted that you too were like family to him and it would mean the world if you were there too.

Placing your order with the pizza place you decided that a quick shower was in order. You couldn’t focus while you still smelled like Sami. 

Deciding to forgo any clothes for the evening, wrapping yourself in your favorite oversized fluffy robe, you head back to the living room. You picked up a pen and notepad that you’d left on the coffee table after Sami left to try and start comparing notes. So far all you’d scribbled on the page were their names. You weren’t sure how the hell you were even supposed to score this. Should you do it like the Olympics? Form, Execution, Dismount? You scribbled down orgasms placing tallies under the header. Rami two, Sami three. Was that a good thing? The sex with Rami had been so different though that you weren’t sure that it mattered. 

So focused on trying to scribble down other comparisons you almost missed the knock at your front door that was quickly followed by the ringing of the doorbell. Tossing the notepad and pen down on the table with a frustrated sigh, you got up to go answer the door. Paying for your pizza and leaving the pizza delivery kid a generous tip, you drop the box onto your coffee table next to the notepad, padding into the kitchen to grab your wine. No wine glass needed tonight, you had a lot on your mind and you needed to focus, so you just drank directly from the bottle. 

Grabbing a slice from the box and stuffing as much of the deliciousness that was the pizza into your mouth, you picked up your pen and began scribbling more notes onto the paper. Getting to the header of form. Rami’s form had been flawless at least in your eyes. The sex with him had been slow and gentle almost as if he’d been making love to you rather than the fuck that it was supposed to be. 

After finishing your first slice of pizza you frustratedly toss the notepad back on the table and reach for another slice. As soon as it was halfway to your mouth you heard a knock on the door followed by the incessant ringing of the doorbell. Glancing at the clock on the wall it was nearly eight pm and you weren’t expecting anyone. 

Swinging open the door in mild irritation giving way to amusement as Rami nearly tumbles to the floor. He manages to catch himself but ends up face planting directly into your cleavage. 

“YNNNN!” Rami shouts, dragging out the last half of your name. “And HELLO YN”s tits! Such pretty things, I wanna touch 'em again. They were so soft and squishy.”

“Rami? What are you doing here?” you ask with a brow raised. You really were curious as to how he’d ended up here. You didn’t see his car or any other car. 

“I just thought I’d come say hello. You know. You’re my best friend and also because I kind of wanted to kiss you again,” he half mumbles with his face still buried in your cleavage.

 Laughter bubbling out of you at his boldness. Rami when even partially was intoxicated could be quite bold and had no problem saying what was on his mind. You help him stand upright and pull him into the house slamming the door shut behind you; his laughter loud as he struggles to remove his shoes. As soon as he gets his shoes off he follows you deeper into the house.

“Rami what is going on?”

You gesture for him to have  a seat on the couch watching as he clumsily plops down next to you. His face is an alternating mixture of serious and forlorn. Rami doesn’t say anything for long enough that you were certain that he didn’t hear your question. Just as you are about to repeat the question he decides to respond.

“I don’t want you to forget about me. I know that it’s been several days but I don’t want my brother to win. I sometimes suspect that he’s better at everything than me. All I can do is act but my brother is better at everything else,” he rambles. 

“Ram- I couldn’t forget about you even if I wanted to. You can do so much more than you think you can. I think you’re an incredible person. How much have you had to drink tonight? I think you need to eat something.”

“I’ve had plenty enough to drink but that pizza looks sooo good. I want to eat it as badly, almost as I want to eat you. You tasted like what I imagine heaven does.”

From his position on the couch he looks so sad and small. He isn’t a big guy by any means but when he gets sad he tends to shrink into himself which gives him the appearance of being much smaller than he actually is. You almost cry when he looks up at you with tears shining in his beautifully expressive eyes, and you react the only way you know how in that moment. 

“Here, eat this,” you suggest as you hold the pizza up for him to take. He just smiles and leans forward not bothering to actually take the slice into his own large hands instead opting to just take a large bite of the end.

“Mmmmm so good. This is the best pizza ever.”

“Then take this slice, I’m going to go get you a bottle of water. Please don’t go anywhere,” you instruct as he finally grabs the pizza from your hand, taking another large bite.

Re-entering the living room from the kitchen less than a minute later, what you see nearly makes you faint. There was Rami casually munching on his pizza that he had gripped in one of his large hands, your notepad in the other. You clear your throat and he tosses the notepad back onto the coffee table looking a little sheepish.

“Snooping isn’t nice Rami.”

“He gave you three orgasms?”

“He did Rami. It doesn’t mean anything really I’m just trying to make comparisons that’s all. Wasn’t that the whole point of this experiment?”

His face changes from the sheepish one to the stoic Malek poker face that you hated. It was the ultimate unreadable expression and both twins wore it well. That face you always assumed was their attempt at neutrality and it drove you insane. Sometimes you call it the mask, and this is the same face he made the other day at brunch before he threw his little Rami temper tantrum. 

“Rami?” 

“Yes?”he responds, arching a brow at you just before he takes another bite of his pizza.  

“Why are you really here?”

He suddenly starts to choke on his food but somehow manages to recover quickly before swallowing the bite of food that he’d been chewing, his face switching from Malek poker face to amusement. 

“I’m  here because…. I want to be! Since when have we ever needed an excuse to hang out together? I’m going away tomorrow and I’m going to miss my best friend so maybe I just wanted some quality time before I have to leave.”

You don’t buy it. His behavior at brunch yesterday and the awkwardness today in conjunction with a few things he’d said are contributing to the Malek bullshit detector that is being set off in your brain. He must have read your facial expression because he just lets out an awkward laugh before nearly inhaling the rest of his food.

“Rami, I’m not complaining. I’m just curious if the timing for the visit has something to do with your brother and what happened today,” you casually mention as you reclaim your spot on the sofa next to him. Rami doesn’t say anything but silently retrieves the water bottle you were holding out to him. 

“YN why is your face all red? What is that?” he asks as he pokes at the mark that Sami had left at the base of your throat.

No response from you told Rami everything he needed to know.

“My brother did that, didn't he?”

There was no point in telling any lies. Rami would see right through it and would call you out on it immediately, so you nod your head silently to answer his question. You weren’t expecting what happened next and that was Rami letting out a growl, yes a growl, as his lithe body collided with yours knocking you back into the arm of the sofa.

“I need to give you a reminder, a refresher, about who can fuck you the best. I can’t hold this back anymore. Sami may have given you three orgasms today, but I can do it so much better. I refuse to lose to my brother. I want, no I need, to give you at least four. I’ll prove to you which Malek is the better lover,” he asserts, using a tone unlike one you’ve ever heard from him before. You knew yourself well enough to know that you wouldn’t deny him anything.

His eyes search yours for a few moments, giving you an opportunity to decline, when you brooked no denial everything seemed to happen very rapidly from there.  

His lips land on yours in an unexpected heated kiss that feels way to brief for your liking. Rami had a mouth that was made for kissing and you never wanted to stop. You whine in protest at the abrupt departure of his lips from yours but you reign in your displeasure the moment his hands fist in your hair and he roughly jerks your head to the side, allowing him better access to your neck. You gasp in shock when you feel his lips attach to the most sensitive bit of flesh on your neck, his teeth and lips working together to create the right amount of pressure needed to leave a mark. Once he was satisfied that a large enough mark would clearly be visible tomorrow he works his way upwards towards your hairline leaving a trail of smaller hickies in his wake. Rami giggles to himself, obviously proud of his handiwork as he works on leaving another trail of marks along your shoulder and collarbone. All the while he was muttering something to himself about how he refused to be outdone by his brother. 

He releases your hair from his grip, his mouth licking and sucking along every inch of exposed skin eliciting a shiver from you. You move only in an attempt to adjust your body so that you can position yourself in a way that is more open to him, not noticing when his fingers gently tug at the belt of your robe allowing the fabric to fall away from your skin. Rami’s mouth continues its downward explorative journey of your body leaving nothing but goosebumps along the way.

Your mouth opens in shock and your head lolls back on the armrest of the couch the moment his lips come in contact with one of your nipples both of them hardening under the gentle pressure of his tongue, his other hand gently kneading the flesh of your other breast. His thumb tweaking the nipple just as he lightly bit down on the nipple he had in his mouth.  Moaning out quietly at the wonderful sensations that his mouth were  evoking, swearing that you could cum just from his stimulation of your breasts. When he felt he’d paid enough attention to one breast he moved on to the other repeating the process. 

When he finally stopped lavishing all the attention on your breasts you were a panting, sweating mess. 

“God Rami. How the hell do you do this to me?”

He offers no verbal response to your question but instead spreads your legs wide and slips his fingers between your wet folds.

“I knew you’d be wet for me already.”

Rami slips his fingers through your damp folds and starts to work you, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches in amused satisfaction; content that he is making you fall apart like this. Your head thrown back onto the arm of the sofa, hips bucking on their against Rami’s hand while he coos nothing but praise for you.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. You’re so beautiful spread open like this for me. Let go, cum on my fingers baby.”

HIs gentle praise and the way his thumb was circling your clit as his fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you, you came undone way too quickly for your liking. A strangled moan leaves your lips as you clench around his fingers, while one of his hands holds you steady to prevent you from bucking yourself off the couch.

“One,”he half-shouts sounding something that could best be described as victorious. “I told you that I’m going to give you four, and that’s one.”

 Once your legs stop trembling you watch as he slithers his body down yours and his face aligns with your center. He spreads you open, and his tongue gets to work, stimulating your sensitive pink bundle with his tongue. Slow, languid flicks of his  tongue, just enough to tease but not stimulate in the one way that you want it to be. Whining in protest, bringing your hand down to his hair hoping to spur him on just a little.

He begins to hum against you while his tongue begins to work a little faster, moving in a way that has you nearing orgasm way too quickly. Why is sex with him like this?

Without warning your thighs clamp tightly shut against his head, your hips once again moving on their own as your thighs tremble and shake. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Raaaaami fuuuuuuuck” you scream out.

You can feel him smile against your core as his tongue continues to work you through your orgasm. Once your body has stopped convulsing you feel his hand release the grip they had on your hips and he pulls himself up to his knees. 

“Two.”

You try to sit up but his hands shove you back down onto the couch.

“No,” he protests when you try to reach up to help  him with his pants. You want to get your hands or mouth on  his beautiful cock but apparently he has other plans. Watching as he strips himself down faster than you’d ever thought it was possible for anyone to do, he strokes himself languidly for a few seconds and then maneuvers himself between your open thighs. 

Rami wastes no time at all pulling your hips up and easing himself into you. The noise that escapes you makes him react with his own noises. His hips pounding into yours though his eyes never leave yours. He is a man on a pleasure mission and you know he won’t stop until he gets you exactly where he wants you.

“You feel so good baby. So good for me,” he coos.

Your body responding to him and his praise. 

“Do you like this?”

“Oh fuuuuckkkk Rami. Yesssss don’t stop,” you shout, feeling so close to orgasm already. His hands coming down to pull your  hips upwards,changing the angle, so that his cock hits every part of you that makes you feel good. Your body shivering at the sensations.

“I can feel you getting close baby. So good, so good for me, cum for me baby,” he encourages. His brow is furrowed and both of your bodies so overheated and coated in sweat. WIth his words of encouragement you feel that something inside of you snap and you cum hard screaming his name. You haven't completely recovered from your third orgasm with Rami yet but when your eyes snap open you are met with the sight of his eyes boring into yours with an intense concentration coupled with lust.

“Three.”

He moves his hips at a slower, less frantic pace which was surprising to you but he slides his hands up your body, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands slide into yours much as they had on Tuesday night. 

You could barely register anything as his mouth starts singing your praises

“Love everything about you. Love these hands,” he murmurs as he squeezed his fingers against yours where they were now intertwined above your head, “these beautiful lips of yours so soft and sweet,” he kisses you softly, “every inch of your body is divine, like you are a goddess sent from the heavens just for me,” he lowers his body so that it is now flush against yours, “just-everything, everything, everything.” (Thank you @diasimar)

Your breath catches in your throat at his words disbelieving that he would ever utter these words to you in any other circumstances. The only explanation is that he’s caught in a moment.

“You’re so beautiful, so beautiful,” he continues as he moves his hips against yours

Your breath catches in your throat at his words and you aren’t aware if he knows what he is saying. His hips never stopping, his eyes locked on yours until you can feel his body tense and you know his orgasm is getting close. 

“Baby cum for me,” he nearly pleads. Closing your eyes and giving into the pleasure coursing through your body. Your insides clench around him as you feel your body spasming in pleasure for the seventh time today, you cry out his name again and again until you feel him reach his release. Forcing your eyes open to watch him as he cums, his jaw tensing and his mouth in an ‘o’ shape, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Both of you struggle to catch your breath as he relaxes all of his weight on top of you, you release his hands and much as you had on Tuesday night you bring your hands up to his hair to run them through his damp curls. He just rests head on your shoulder and you let out a small laugh when he weakly mumbles out , “Four.”

The warm weight of him on top of you combined with your exertions from the day of sexual activities has your eyes closing and you aren’t sure exactly when you fell asleep. When you wake up in your bed in the morning you smile to yourself, rolling over and reaching out but you find the space on the mattress next to you empty. 

A part of you didn’t want to feel a bit sad or abandoned but you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing freely. Why are you so emotional when it comes to Rami? You let the tears fall for a few minutes and then try to pull yourself together. You have to deliver your findings today to the boys but you needed to get up and prepare yourself for the day. Rolling over and swinging your feet over the side of your bed, you wince in pain, as you were incredibly sore from yesterday’s vigorous activities. That’s when you notice a folded piece of paper with your name on the outside in a very familiar scrawl. Confusion racking your brain when you open the notecard and realize that you don’t know what the actual note said:  ahbik. la 'astatie alaintizar liruyatak baed zuhr hdha alyawm. (Google translated so I apologize for any inaccuracies but it’s supposed to be translated to: I love you. I can’t wait to see you this afternoon.)

TAG LIST: @xmxisxforxmaybe @free-rami @ramimedley @txmel @mrhoemazzello @r-ahh-mi @itsme690 @safinsscar @ladyr0b0t @youthtea @ramisgirl512 @hissom1933 @spacedustmazzello @sassystrawberryk @ramimalekpan @breadnbutternips @doing-all-write @itslula1991 @sasha--1996 @madamsledge @imnottiredofgettingoveryou @alottanothing @mezzomercury @theultraviolencefan @the-real-ramimalekpeen @hazeleyedbeth @w0lfglrl17 @adoremalek @rawmemalek @lunasasylum @lablanchett @diasimar @zodiyack @rami-malek-trash @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @anotheronebitesthedick @moon-stars-soul  @petites-fantasies

[doctortreklock]

AU-gust 29 - Tattoo Parlor AU

For this. On AO3.

Every time Carlos thought he had a handle on Night Vale, something else would happen that would throw him for a loop.

Like the day he’d come home from lab, carrying his mandatory Big Rico’s take-out, to find a piece of paper about the size of a postcard pinned to his front door with what looked like an obsidian arrowhead. The paper itself was jet black and glossy to match. When he tilted it just right under an ultraviolet light, however, a message appeared in thin, spidery handwriting.

On your 343rd day in Night Vale, you will receive your citizenship card. Please present yourself under the third streetlight from the left on Elysium Lane at 10:14pm precisely.

You will be collected.

It wasn’t the most ominous note he’d gotten since he’d moved to Night Vale, not by a long shot. No, that honor had to go to a torn piece of notebook paper that had been slid under his door one night and had simply had IT IS COMING written on it in blood. So this one was tame by comparison.

Time-keeping was a rather tricky undertaking in Night Vale, what with the City Council cancelling Wednesdays on a whim and that one time all the clocks had run backwards for twelve hours, leading to the question of whether the day had even happened. (Later consensus had agreed that the day in question had, in fact, happened, though the following day had not.)

Luckily, Carlos was a Scientist, and he’d been keeping a careful journal of each day (or equivalent period) since he’d arrived (making sure to keep his illicit pen collection out of sight of the Secret Police). So he sat at his kitchen table and slowly made his way through the pile of wheat-free pizza cubes he’d brought home and tried to count up how many days he’d been in Night Vale.

He came to the conclusion that today had been the 342nd day since he’d arrived, which meant he’d be getting his citizenship card tomorrow. Splendid. He hadn’t been looking forward to finding out what would happen if he missed his appointment.

Carlos cleaned up from dinner and went to bed.

The next day, he went into the lab and did some Science. Then he came home, carefully set three different alarms (in case time stopped working again), and took a nap.

Just before a quarter past ten that night, he was standing under a dim streetlight on Elysium Lane, trying not to fidget too badly.

“You’re on time.”

The low, smooth voice came from just over his shoulder, and Carlos jumped, looking back to see where it had come from.

There was a man there - or a man-shaped being at any rate - with a shock of silver hair that seemed to glow in the muted light.

“Come with me.” He turned and walked out of the faint spotlight.

Carlos cautiously followed. He was never sure what to expect in Night Vale, but following instructions hadn’t led him astray yet. He trailed the man down the street and around the corner. The third building over was a small storefront, and the man entered without a backward glance. Carlos looked around, but didn’t see anyone else. He opened the door and slipped inside.

The man was nowhere to be seen.

Carlos’s eyes flickered from one shadowy corner of the room to the other, but he didn’t see a tall, thin figure with silver hair anywhere. Then he blinked and looked around again, actually registering where he was standing.

It looked like a tattoo parlor. Carlos had never been in one, but he’d seen a couple reality shows before he’d come to Night Vale that had featured terrible tattoos and the parlors that tried to fix them.

In the thin light filtering in the windows from the functioning streetlights outside, Carlos could see a gleaming counter in front of him. There were chairs under the window to his left in what looked like the sort of waiting area he’d expect to see at a barber shop or the doctor’s office. Behind the counter was something that resembled a well-padded dentist’s chair. Carlos eyed it with trepidation.

Abruptly, the lights in the room came on all at once, and Carlos squinted against the sudden brightness. After a moment of rapid blinking while his eyes struggled to adjust, he could look across the room to the doorway where the man had reappeared.

He stood there, watching Carlos with a smile dancing around his mouth. His hair still looked silver, but in the light Carlos could see that it was more of a silver-blond than a silver-grey, lending the man a younger appearance that was somewhere around Carlos’s own age. His white dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and he was wearing a deep purple tie and a charcoal grey vest that seemed tailored to him.

He was also watching Carlos with dark eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses.

Carlos cleared his throat, distressingly aware of the flush that threatened to surface whenever he looked at the man too closely. “Good evening.”

“Welcome, Carlos the Scientist.” His voice was still low and smooth, but it was also warm and almost...congenial?

“Um. Can you tell me why I’m here? I believe the note said something about my citizenship card?” He struggled to keep from shifting his weight.

“Yes.” The man’s face twisted into a brilliant smile. “If you’ll just come over here please.” He led Carlos around the counter to the dentist’s chair.

Carlos eyed it nervously. He’d never had a high pain tolerance, which had put a quick kibosh on any thoughts he’d had in college of getting a tattoo. So he wasn’t looking forward to it now.

Although he was just assuming the evening was going to end in a tattoo. Maybe it really was a dentist’s chair and this painfully attractive man was going to give him a root canal.

He sat down in it gingerly. This was Night Vale, and he had no illusions about the sort of oddities he could expect from anything in the town that appeared innocuous. When nothing bit him or growled or oozed, he relaxed into the padding.

The man sat down on a stool next to him and looked into Carlos’s eyes from an intimate eighteen inches away. His eyes were purple, Carlos noted. They matched his tie. And his glasses.

“Give me your hand,” the man said.

Carlos reached out but stopped himself just before putting his hand in the man’s waiting grasp. “Will I get it back?” he asked warily. It never hurt to ask.

“It’s Tuesday,” the man agreed. Which wasn’t reassuring, but was enough for now. Carlos nodded and settled his hand into the man’s cradled palms.

He took hold of Carlos’s fingers with one hand and used the other to begin tracing curving shapes up Carlos’s wrist and forearm with his finger.

Carlos was about to ask what he was doing, but stopped. There was a curve of ink that appeared under the man’s rolled sleeve as he moved. Carlos watched, transfixed, hoping to see more. He had never found tattoos attractive on their own before, but he was already beginning to reevaluate their merit.

Slowly, more of the line became visible. A few seconds later, however, Carlos realized that it wasn’t because the sleeve had shifted, but because the tattoo was moving. He gasped.

“Hmm?” The man looked up from Carlos’s arm to see his expression. “Ah.” He kept hold of Carlos’s hand, but used his free hand to poke at the skin just under the edge of his cuff. “Are you going to come out now and say hello?”

If he were anywhere else in the world, Carlos would say he was going mad. He was in Night Vale, however, so it seemed perfectly reasonable to see a curve of ink cautiously, almost shyly, poke itself out from under the curve of the man’s shirt sleeve and unfurl on the blank skin of his forearm.

“Hi, there,” Carlos said softly. He wasn’t sure why, but he desperately wanted the man’s tattoos to like him.

At his words, the ink froze, then started uncoiling at a more rapid clip. Inked tentacles and stylized geometry spread across the skin until the man had lines of dark ink covering his forearm from elbow to wrist.

“It’s beautiful,” Carlos said. He looked up in wonder to find the man watching him, warmth in his eyes.

“I’m glad you think so.” His voice was impossibly deep. “Because you’ll have your own set very soon.”

Carlos made the connection. “My citizenship card?”

He hummed. “Exactly. Much more difficult to lose than a flimsy piece of plastic.”

He appeared satisfied with whatever invisible sketches he’d been making on Carlos’s arm and slid away on his stool, releasing Carlos’s fingers. Carlos watched the gently waving tentacles move out of his range of vision.

He could hear the clatter of metal, and only the man’s absentminded humming kept him grounded and in the chair.

Then he slid back into view, tattoo gun in hand.

“Are you ready, Carlos the Scientist?” the man asked solemnly.

“Yes,” Carlos said firmly. Then, “What’s your name, by the way? I don’t think I ever caught it.”

He looked surprised by the question. “Cecil. Cecil Palmer.” He smiled. “Welcome to Night Vale.”

[claudeeve]

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[yoontopia]

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘁𝗵 𝗽𝘁.𝟮 | 𝗺𝘆𝗴

pairing: min yoongi x reader; genre: fluff; words: 2k (lol what was i thinking)

warnings: none!

prompt: “Stay with me” + “Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything” based off this prompt list. requests are OPEN!

Read Part One 

You tried to focus on the work in front of you. It was a regular Tuesday afternoon at the office and your surroundings were quiet – the whirring of the photocopy machine in the background acting as white noise. Staring daggers at the spreadsheets in front of you, your brain refused to absorb any of the information. Your ears were tuned into the humming of a muted rap coming from the cubicle next to you, and a sound that you usually managed to ignore was somehow the one reason you couldn’t focus today.

Ever since a couple weeks ago, when your usually noisy and annoying work neighbour had offered you a hot drink and his spare clothes, you couldn’t get him out of your head. It was after a particularly bad day, what with you being dumped over a text and then ending up getting soaked in the pouring rain. Min Yoongi had gone from being someone you despised to someone you were now constantly thinking about at work.

‘All because he was nice to you once,’ you berated yourself mentally. How pathetic were you? To let one kind gesture affect you like this? Although, to be fair, Yoongi’s incessant teasing had significantly decreased over the past couple weeks. He was almost nice to you – he still joked and teased you, but it was now in the form of cheerful workplace banter and you found yourself not minding it one bit. And as if that was not the worst part, you had started to notice the little things you had somehow overlooked before.

Like how Min Yoongi was actually a very handsome man.

Letting your forehead hit your desk, you let out a light groan. Tapping your feet angrily on the floor you sighed.

“You okay there, squirt? You sound like you’re in pain.” a voice piped up and you lifted your head slightly to see the dyed white blonde of Yoongi’s head poking into your cubicle. One earphone still in, the other hanging down his chest, he had his eyebrows raised as he looked at you. You hated how cute his scrunched-up nose was.

“Yeah, m’fine,” you mumbled, waving a hand weakly at him. The last thing you wanted was for Yoongi to read your mind, he was weirdly good at doing just that. Yoongi looked at you disbelievingly, but he changed the subject.

“You coming tonight?” he asked. You tilted your head, so your cheek was resting on your desk instead, facing him. That’s right, tonight was the monthly work social. The human resources department, in desperate attempt to increase inter-work bonding, had arranged these. The email reminder you’d received yesterday stated that this week it would be laser tag. You usually passed up on these events, not really being too friendly with anyone you worked with.

“I don’t think I will.” You told Yoongi, hoping he’d drop the subject. Was that a flicker of disappointment on his face?

“Well you should,” he said instead, returning his focus to his own computer and typing away. “It’ll be fun and then I’ll have someone to show off my skills to.”

“Skills?” you snickered. The typing sounds stopped and Yoongi’s head reappeared outside his cubicle.

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I am extremely talented at laser tag,” He stated, mock offended. “I’ll buy you a beer so you can come, and I can prove it to you.”

“Damn you really want me there to show off your skills,” you said, chuckling, pushing yourself off your chair in order to go make some coffee. When Yoongi didn’t answer you looked back at him. He was looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Of course, I want you to come, it’s not fun otherwise,” he mumbled, his face unreadable. You blinked, your heart picking up its pace. What did he mean by that?

“Fine, if you insist, I guess I can stop by,” You said softly, playing with a strand of your hair. His face visibly brightened at that, making your heart flutter when he shot you a particularly wide gummy grin. “Do you want some coffee? Black right?” His smile faded again as he looked at you, expression unreadable once more. You desperately wondered what that look meant and a petty side of you wondered if he looked at other women like that too.

“Yeah, thanks, I’d love some.”

You stared at the meeting spot for the social in disbelief. It was a bar. You double checked the email on your phone to make sure this was a place, but you didn’t need to, since you heard your name being called. Looking up, you grinned at perhaps the one person you knew slightly well at work.

Jung Hoseok made his way over to you, brown hair curling, and his signature wide smile on his face. Hoseok worked in human resources, and you had a sneaky suspicion that laser tag had somehow been his idea.

“You came!” he yelled over the loud music.

“I thought we’re supposed to go to laser tag,” you responded jovially. Hoseok made anyone around him feel comfortable, and it was hard not to be friendly.

“We’re going after this,” he grinned, raising the bottle in his hand at you.

“Drunk laser tag? Really Hobi?”

“Please the place is full of like, ten-year olds, we need that extra kick,” You laughed at that and accompanied him to the bar to order yourself a drink. “How come you’re actually here though? Didn’t think this was your scene.”

Your fingers clasped around the cold bottle of Blue Moon that the bartender set down in front of you.

“Min Yoongi made me.”

“Min Yoongi – as in – the Min Yoongi in your department Min Yoongi?” Hoseok stuttered. “The one you got into a yelling match with at the Christmas formal two years ago?”

“Yes, the very same,” you sighed. “Where is he anyway?”

“Excited to see him, are we?” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You scowled and flipped him off, but he only laughed good-naturedly.

The rest of your time at the bar was spent with Hoseok, Yoongi nowhere in sight. Trying to hide your disappointment, you laughed at all of Hoseok’s jokes and forced him to show you pictures of his dog. What felt like an eternity later, Hoseok said it was time to head to laser tag. Downing your second beer of the night you eyed the boy next to you.

“I’m gonna go round up everyone – wait for me by the doors?” he said before scampering off to go find others from your company. You slapped a few bills on the bar and made your way to the exit. Not wanting to look lonely, you fished out your phone and scrolled through twitter. Not for the first time you mentally berated yourself for not being more social.

“Hey, you,” a familiar voice said, and you looked up. Yoongi stood there, dressed in what you could only call a stark contrast from his usual semi-formal work attire. A cream baggy t-shirt, and ripped black jeans complete with a leather jacket. His ears glittered with multiple earrings, dangling every time he moved his head. His platinum hair shined in the lighting. You blinked at him, dumbfounded, trying not to hover over the fact that his gaze gave you once over. You hoped your casual sweater and jeans were up to standard. “How’s it going?”

You blinked again. You’d never known Yoongi to be the type to make awkward conversation openers. But you played along.

“Waiting for Hoseok so we can head down,” you answered, putting your phone away. Yoongi pursed his lips. “Where were you anyway? I arrived ages ago.”

“With the guys,” Yoongi gestured to a group of people you weren’t familiar with. When had he made friends at work? He had seemed even more anti-social than you, but you had assumed wrong. “I saw you with Hobi and didn’t want to interrupt.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, you heard your name being called for the second time. Looking up, you felt your stomach drop – but not in the fuzzy way it had when Yoongi had arrived.

Your ex-boyfriend stood there, looking surprised. It seemed he’d just arrived.

“It is you!” he said and made his way over. You gulped. “How have you been?” Your tongue felt tied, but you couldn’t help the burning anger that was bubbling up inside you. Yoongi must have sensed your change in mood.

“Hey man, I’m Yoongi.” He said casually, sticking out a hand.

“Hansol,” your ex said, taking it, a questioning look in his eyes. “Are you two--?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied casually and you whipped your head to look at him. His face didn’t betray anything. “We are. Let’s go,” he said, the latter part of his sentence addressing you. He grabbed you by the elbow and began dragging you out before you could say anything.

Once you were outside you huffed, pulling yourself out of his grip.

“I could have handled that,” you said angrily. “I’m not a damsel.” Yoongi shrugged.

“That’s him, right?” he asked, and you raised your eyebrows. “The reason you arrived soaked to the core that day.”

“How did you know?”

“Your expression,” he shrugged again. “Haven’t seen it since that day, he must be some scumbag.”

“You still didn’t need to do that,” you said, although your anger was fast dissipating. “I wanted to tell him off.”

“Well,” he said. “Do it. Yell, scream. Say something – anything. I’ll listen.”

“I’m not going to scream at you,” you huffed. Yoongi flashed you a crooked smile.

“Don’t take your anger out on people that don’t deserve it,” he said sagely. “But you also need to let it out at some point.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked abruptly. You assumed the alcohol in your system had given you the courage you needed to voice the question that had been plaguing your mind. “You weren’t before.”

“Ah,” he mumbled, scratching his ear nervously. “I’m sorry if I came off as mean. My brother told me that I was going about it the wrong way, but I think it was just a defense mechanism to tease you incessantly. Doesn’t make it ok though.”

“Going about what wrong?” He stared down at you; lips pursed.

“I’ve had a massive crush on you pretty much since I started working,” He said, his voice quiet. Your ears were ringing and suddenly your hands were feeling warm. “And I didn’t know what to do about it – and then I waited too long, and you had a boyfriend.”

“Hansol and I weren’t even serious,” you whispered.

“How was I to know that?” He stared nervously at you. “Have I made you uncomfortable? I could leave—”

“No,” you said, your voice still hushed. “Stay with me.”

Yoongi froze, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket. You smiled shyly up at him. Before you could say anything else, he was leaning in, his hands coming out to cup your cheeks, tilting your face up.

His lips were soft and tasted like rum. The kiss was full of hesitation, but when you reached out to fist your hands on either side of his jacket and opened up to him, you felt him lean in, hands traveling to your head, fingers gently sifting through your hair. You could stand here all day getting drunk off Yoongi if it wasn’t for the rude interruption that came not seconds later.

“And what do we have here?” Hoseok’s coy voice sounded, surrounded by a few people from work who were emerging out of the bar, and you jumped. It seemed Yoongi was caught off guard too, for he let you go quicker than lightening.

“Shut up Hoseok,” you hissed, your ears going warm. Hoseok grinned as he moved his gaze along from you to Yoongi, who seemed to be suddenly very interested in the night sky. You reached out to hook your fingers through Yoongi’s, much to his surprise, and smiled when you felt his grip tighten around you.

“Don’t get left behind,” Hoseok said slyly as he turned and walked down the street. You groaned loudly and Yoongi laughed, a tinkling, delighted sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“I live just around the corner actually,” he coughed. “You wanna ditch?”

“I thought you wanted to show off your laser tag skills.”

“Are you kidding? I only said that to try and get you to come. I’m not about to get beaten in a virtual game by preteens in front of the girl I like.” He was smiling his full gummy smile down at you, and dazedly you thought you could get used to this.

[jemej3m]

RADIO CALLER AU RADIO CALLER AU RADIO CALLER AU

OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY

I’m way too lazy to link the rest of the parts so here’s the latest one lmao srry 

p3

*

Wymack settled into his chair. He well trusted Neil by now, but Minyard had a reputation that precedented him, so Wymack wouldn’t let the man derail the show with his presence. 

He hadn’t told Kevin about Andrew’s sudden and startling reappearance yet: He knew his son would grow too fanatic and overenthusiastic, and probably put Andrew off all over again. Wymack looked into the man’s credentials: His behavioural record was tarnished to all hell, but every one of his grades had been stellar. It was baffling enough that the name Minyard had remained, lodged in his brain, until Neil had finally admitted who he wanted to co-host.

It was a Tuesday evening, already hitting close to midnight. Through the glass Neil was setting up, the routine old hat by now, but Andrew was lounging in a chair he seemed too familiar with, a lolly-pop in his mouth. 

Wymack leaned into his soundboard and spoke into the comm. “You sure you’ve never been here, Minyard?”

The candy came out of his mouth with a pop. “Nope.” Neil sent Minyard a quiet smile and jostled his shoulder gently. Minyard flipped him off. 

I’m too old for this.

‘This’ entailed: Obvious, middle-school flirting and being away past ten o’clock, both of which Wymack’d had enough of to last the rest of his presumably short lifespan. 

He simply shook his head and settled further into the chair to watch the slow as it went live. 

“Welcome back to Mid-Nights, with me, the same person who’s been hosting this show for months and yet still repeats his name, Neil Josten.” He grinned into the microphone and winked at Wymack, who rolled his eyes. Minyard mirrored him. Maybe Andrew would be the one to finally tame Josten’s shitty attitude. “But guess what? There’s someone else here with me today, cohosting tonight.”

“It’ll be a one-off event, undoubtedly.” Minyard said into his mike. 

“Am I introducing you?”

“You dragged me on here, junkie.”

“I did, didn’t I. Cohosting with me tonight is Andrew Minyard, who’s got some new music and absolutely scathing opinions to share with you all. It’s a pleasure to have you here, ‘Drew.”

“Call me that again and I’ll sew your lips shut.”

Neil just laughed. 

Wymack didn’t have to worry. Neil seemed well versed in conversing with Andrew, who, despite his misgivings, was very good at what he did: Things ran incredibly smoothly, to the point that Wymack realised it was ridiculous that he was here. Of course, he needed to assess Minyard to see if he was up to a permanent gig if he ever wanted one, but Neil easily had it under control. Minyard was way too familiar with the space, the boards and controls: He had to have been here prior, but Wymack wasn’t going to ask.

They made a good pair, Wymack thought. He wondered what they’d say if he offered them a prime-time spot. 

It hit about two-thirty in the morning and Wymack hit the comm button mid-way through a song. “I’m going home. Congrats, Minyard. You better not have razed my studio to the ground by the time I get back here in a few hours.”

“Can’t make any promises.” The pint-sized man muttered. Wymack simply shook his head and tucked his chair under his desk, shoving his notes into his bag and filing out with his keys hanging off his ring finger. 

It could just work. Neil and Andrew in evening peak-hour, the most promising intern Robin running graveyard shifts, and Allison moving up and out to the news broadcasting position she’d been offered. 

It all fit together, like a hideous puzzle. Wymack didn’t mind: He’d keep adding pieces and making the FM-OX network a home for his kids.

*

“How’d you like that?” Neil insisted, forever obsessed with his work. Andrew rolled his eyes, standing up and pushing the chair under his desk. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“You can’t think you’ll successfully entertain me with your own obsessive tendencies.”

“Fine.” Neil challenged. “I’ll let you drop me home if we go to Sweeties on the way.” 

Andrew narrowed his eyes. Neil didn’t give in to an argument so easily, especially not one that had been consistent over the past few weeks. Neil, as Andrew eventually discovered, walked home in the dead of the night after his show. Like the reckless idiot he was. As if his striking features and scars didn’t draw enough attention to him: He deliberately put himself in harms way so often, and so carelessly, that Andrew wondered what kind of childhood he must have endured to be so infuriatingly reckless. 

He’d asked Neil why he was so obviously flippant about himself. Neil had retorted with a sharp “I do care. I just can’t trust anyone to look out for me in my stead.” 

“Can’t, or won’t?” Andrew offered. Neil, in a particularly bitter mood that day, had said nothing else. 

Now Neil was letting Andrew drop him home. He had to want something. 

“Only if you get me fries and ice cream.”

“Pl - Don’t put them together. I’ll be sick.”

Andrew noticed the way he caught himself before saying ‘please’. It was the little things about Neil that had him stumbling over himself as he fell deeper and deeper into the hole that was being attracted to Neil Josten, when he realised that Neil adhered to every one of his boundaries. 

“Funnily enough, I couldn’t give less of a shit. Let’s go, Josten.”

They’d queued good music on the station in their absence and listened to it whilst Andrew drove with the windows down, careening into Sweeties’ drive-through. Neil had a small smile playing across his lips, curls fluttering in the breeze. When the car rolled to a stop his cheeks were flushed red, looking utterly windswept. Andrew had to avert his eyes. 

Neil ordered for him, seeing as he’d spent the past four hours talking intermittently - more than he’d ever had to before, but also surprisingly easy when it was with Neil. 

The other man said just what Andrew was thinking as they sat in the parking lot, Andrew dipping curly fries into strawberry ice-cream and Neil breathing in the steam from his black coffee. 

“And to think this all happened because you called me one night.” Neil muttered, a teasing sparkle in his eye. 

“You were confounding enough to keep my interest.” Andrew said dismissively. 

“Am I still? Confounding?”

Yes and no. Andrew felt like he knew nothing about Neil. He’d known Neil did a course with Kevin and got into FM-OX through Kevin’s connections. He knew he didn’t talk to his family, that his scars were a premeditated attack from someone he knew. He knew Neil liked the colour grey and fruit and obscure, unknown musicians and the radio and that he didn’t celebrate his birthday. He didn’t have a car and liked going for jogs in the morning and took his coffee plain black and had moved around a lot as a kid. Neil was smart enough to entertain anyone on a specific topic, but he never let on that he knew more than he should for some scrawny young guy in the middle of a scrappy South Carolinian city. 

Other than that, Andrew had nothing. Neil was like water between his fingers: Cool, refreshing, but impossible to get a grasp on. 

“You’re still irritating.” Andrew answered. Neil just snorted and drank his coffee. “You haven’t eaten and definitely shouldn’t be drinking coffee at this hour.”

“I can take care of myself,” Neil argued, hiding behind his cup. 

“Clearly.” Andrew grunted, shoving the car into reverse once he’d finished and pulled out of the empty parking lot. 

Neil’s home was relatively close to FM-OX studios, a decrepit looking doorway between two crusty shop-fronts that lead to studio apartments that looked down on the street. Neil clambered out but turned around and leaned back into the car with a shit-eating grin. 

“I had a good time, ‘Drew.” Like he was dropping Neil home from a date. Should he walk him to the door? Kiss him on his doorstep? How horrifically cliché. 

Andrew scowled. “Don’t get comfortable, junkie.”

Neil winked. The fucking bastard winked. “Keep an eye out for a call from Wymack. He might just have an offer that’ll be too good to resist. See you soon, Minyard.” The car door slammed behind him. 

Andrew was too late, distracted by watching Neil in his jeans and button-down walk to the front door of his apartment block, but still muttered “Fucking asshole.” like Neil was still there to hear him. 

He thought he’d be exhausted, but he was fucking wired beyond belief. Even when he laid on his bed upon arriving home, he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. Sleeping would reset the day. And Andrew wouldn’t admit this to anyone, not even to himself: 

He didn’t want it to end. 

*

ibfnakhrualhifwkjdbhferghifwuekjnhv HOW MANY PARTS WILL IT TAKE FOR THIS PINING TO BE OVERRRRR

[harrysbbby]

You Belong With Me - Peter Parker x Reader

hey guys, sorry it has taken me so long to upload something new but uni has been killing me so... hope you enjoy!

Based on this request from anon:  A peter parker x reader fic based off the song “you belong with me” by Taylor swift!!

You met Peter Parker when you had moved into your new apartment in Queens, New York. After you and your parents had reappeared from the blip, you discovered that your beloved family home had been inhabited by someone else. Hence you were forced to move into this tiny apartment as it was the only thing the real estate could find you, especially since so many people had been displaced.

You were walking up the stairs, carrying one of your final boxes, listening to your mother trying to convince you that this would be a good thing- you’d be able to start a fresh, make some new friends at your new school. As she reached the last step you saw a woman with long brown hair step to the side.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” your mother said as she peered over the boxes she was carrying. The woman smiled pleasantly.

“No problem whatsoever, darling! Would you like a hand with your boxes?” she asked. Your mother immediately accepted the offer, especially after trudging up and down the stairs all day. The woman grabbed the top box off of your mother and help the two of you into your apartment as she introduced herself.

“I’m May. I live in the apartment next door.” She smiled as she placed the box on top of the others.

“I’m Sandy, and this is my daughter (Y/N).” your mother said, gesturing to you.

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” May said. “I think my nephew’s about the same age as you, (Y/N). I’ll see if he can help us with some of your things.”

May moved out into the hallway and opened up their apartment door to call for her nephew.

“Peter! Can you come help me please?” She shouted down the hallway. A few moments later a very attractive boy about your age stepped out in to the hall.

He was very pretty, with a mop of brown hair covering his head and deep brown eyes. You felt your heart skip a beat as he smiled at you and introduced himself.

That was a little over a year ago now. You became good friends, as not only were you neighbours, but you attended the same school. You developed a mild crush on the boy but this dissolved a little after he returned from the school science trip with MJ as his girlfriend. It was a little bit disappointing at first, but you knew the two of them well so you were happy for them. But that’s also why you weren’t surprised when by the end of the summer, they had called off their relationship. There was nothing wrong, just that their goals were both so large that balancing that with a relationship just wasn’t reasonable.

You tried to hide your excitement of the possibility that you and Peter could possibly go out. Over the year and a half or so you had known him you had gotten to know each other really really well. You would study together, meet each other on the fire escape outside both of your windows

He had confided in you about his biggest secret… well accidentally. He had been trying to sneak back into his room via his window when you saw his body, clad in his black and red Spider-Man suit scaling the wall.

He tried to deny it was him at first but he knew you weren’t one to let things pass. So you become someone he could turn to during all of his Spidey escapades.

That’s why it was so surprising when Peter started dating Sally Avril. You would’ve thought that she was… not his type. She was a gymnast, and head cheerleader and very very popular. She was smart, obviously because she went to Midtown, but was never as concerned with her studies as Peter was.

She was however, obsessed with Spider-Man, which made you wonder whether Peter liked her, or liked how she liked his alter ego.

As you sat with your widow slightly ajar, letting the brisk breeze flow into your room on a particularly warm fall evening, you could hear Peter talking sternly on the phone.

He was trying to reason with her- “No it was a Joke! Sal- no I don’t think that of all cheerleaders!”

When Peter has whacked out this particularly hilarious albeit controversial joke at lunch earlier today, you, Ned and MJ had cracked up laughing. Sally had huffed and strutted away from the table, forcing Peter to chase after her.

The laughter died down at the table as you watched the boy desperately try to catch up with his girlfriend. MJ rolled her eyes as she opened the book in front of her.

“She just does not get his sense of humour.”

…

It was a Tuesday night, as you sat on your bed working on your history paper due the next week. Music softly played from your speakers. You nodded your head along to the beat of “The Less I Know The Better” by Tame Impala. Your thoughts went to when you had shown your friends this song during one afternoon study session…

“You’ve never heard of Tame Impala?” you practically screeched, almost offended that your friends hadn’t heard of your favourite band.

“No never. Judging by your reaction that’s bad.” Peter laughed. You smiled at him.

“It’s not bad- you’re just missing out. Here, listen.” You grabbed out your phone, plugging in your headphones so as not to be too disturbing. You handed one to Peter and one to Ned as you pressed play on the song. Ned listened for a while before passing the earbud to MJ.

“Wow this is a good song!” Peter said, passing the headphone to Sally. You smiled at him, heart bursting at the fact he liked your music. Sally’s nose was turned up as she scoffed.

“That song is terrible. You must have tone deaf ears to like this shit.” She rose to her feet, grabbing her things before turning to Peter, “Come on, I’ll drop you home, baby.”

She swiveled in her place before making her way out of the library.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Peter said defeatedly, rushing to catch with her before she drove off without him. You sat back in your chair and sighed. Sally never liked you and was always, seemingly, trying to bring you down.

“Don’t worry about her,” MJ reassured.

“It’s not her I’m worried about.”

…

You heard small tap on your window. Looking up from you paper, you saw Spider-Man perched on your landing. You got up and made your way to the window, yanking it open as the figure took his mask off.

“Peter,” you sighed, “what is it this time?”

“Wow, nice to see you too neighbour,” he laughed as he clamoured, surprisingly uncoordinatedly into your room.

Peter had ‘told’ you about Spider-Man quite early on. Technically you caught him trying to sneak back into his apartment one night, but still, he trusted you, so he told you outright that he was Spider-Man. The two of you spent the rest of that night on the fire escape just talking, him explaining to you what had happened, and you assuring him that you’d always be there if he needed you.

As he went to stand at his full height, he winced and grabbed his ribcage.

“What is it? Did you get hurt?” you asked hurriedly, guiding him to sit atop your desk. You sat in your desk chair, helping him peel his suit off his body.

“Maybe,” he said through gritted teeth. You gasped as you saw this deep bruising on his right side a small ‘shit’ leaving your lips.

“I’ll go get some ice. Stay here an be quiet- my parents are home.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grunted, re-positioning himself on the desk. You return a few minutes later, an ice pack and other medical supplies in hand. You sat on your desk chair and scooted forward as you instructed him to hold the ice to the bruising, using your cloth to clean up a few scratches.

“Why are you here, Peter,” you asked, eyes focused on the work you’re doing. His brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I mean,” you sighed, looking up at you, “why don’t you go to Sally for this kind of stuff. Peter huffed, before shrugging.

“Don’t know, I mean I haven’t even told her about this. I feel safer here,” he smiled at you, “Besides, you said you’d always be there for me.”

You nodded, going back to fixing up the wound you had previously been tending to.

Guess she doesn’t know his story like I do…

You were walking along the hall with Peter, eagerly chatting about a new robotics project you had coming up. Conversations flowed so easily with him. It was like the two of you clicked. You laughed at some stupid joke he said and thought, isn’t this easy? You couldn’t help but think this was how it ought to be. You and him. Not him and-

“Petey!” you heard Sally’s shrill voice echo down the corridor. She strutted up to Peter, heels clicking along the floor, mini skirt flowing in the wind (which you swear wasn’t there, like, who was using a fan in here?), reaching him before planting her gloss-covered lips on top of his.

You looked down at your feet to avoid having to look at them, shuffling your worn-out converse together. They separate and Sally’s shrill voice entered your ears once again.

“I won’t be able to see you tonight, we’ve got cheer tryouts tonight.”

“No worries, first night as cheer captain, how exciting!” Peter said excitedly, although you didn’t feel as though the emotion of his words was truly felt.

“I know!” she shrieked. Her smile dropped as she caught sight of you in her peripheral, almost disgusted that you were in her presence. “Why don’t you try out (Y/N)?” she said condescendingly, arm wrapping tightly around Peter’s shoulder as she pulled him closer.

Your lips form a firm line, as you shook your head slightly. “Sorry, prior commitment. I’m in the band.”

“Shame,” she said bluntly, with no indication that this information made her any kind of sad, “Well at least you’ll still be there I guess, on the bleachers. Anyway, bye babe, text me.” She planted a heavy kiss on Peter’s cheek before sauntering off once again, leaving Peter rubbing the lipstick stain left on his cheek. He smiled, and you felt as if it lit up the whole world…

“Are you okay Peter?” you asked quietly. You had both moved to your bed. You were holding the ice to his chest, giving him a rest so he could loosen his tension.

“Besides nearly being beaten to a pulp? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said nonchalantly. You shook your head and puffed out an exasperated laughed.

“That’s not what I mean.” You sat up in your spot, before shrinking a little after seeing his confused place. “I just, you haven’t been the same since… since you started dating Sally.”

Peter face dropped and you could see his eyes change to between somewhere between mad and caught-out.

“What?” he said sitting up, frustration clear on his face.

“You haven’t been the same Pete!” you tried to reason with him, “Your smile it’s so bright and happy… I haven’t seen it in a while since she’s brought you down.”

Peter scoffed, hopping off your bed and hiking his suit up his body a bit. He walked over to your desk grabbing his mask before making his way to the window.

“I’m fine,” he said defiantly.

“No, you’re not!” your voice growing louder, “I know you better than that! What are you doing with a girl like that?”

“Like what?” he said furiously, “one that likes me? Is nice and pretty and sweet?”

“That’s not what I..” There was eerily silence in your room as the only noise came from the ajar window that Peter had just crawled out of.

You sighed as your bottom lip began to quiver.

You belong with me…

About a week passed and you hadn’t seen Peter. He had been avoiding you in the apartment block and at school. You had also been avoiding him, spending your lunch breaks in the library. It was Friday before you got sick of sitting alone so you joined Ned and MJ at your usual table, Peter nowhere to be seen.

“Hey guys,” you said sitting down at the table.

“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days,” MJ stated. You sighed before asking,

“Where’s Peter?”

“Don’t know,” Ned answered, “he’s been distant, like you. Past couple of days.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. He’s clearly been avoiding you like you have him.

“I mean it isn’t surprising,” MJ stated, still not looking up from her book. She raised her cup of tea to her lips to take a sip. Just as the cup reached her lips she spoke again, “especially since Sally broke up with him or whatever.”

“What!?” you yelled. It gave Ned and MJ a fright, to the point she nearly spilt her tea. “When did this happen?”

“Calm down woman. Some of us enjoy having working ears,” MJ said, delicately placing her tea on the table as to not spill any, “like a few days ago. He’s pretty upset about it. We just assumed you know, and that you had been with him these past couple days…”

She trailed off as she realised this was clearly not the case. You huffed,

“No, I had no idea. We had a pretty big fight at the end of last week and I thought he was avoiding me…” you said, voice failing you at the end as you thought about how you had abandoned him this week.

“You better fix that, pronto,” Ned said. You rolled your eyes at him before taking out you sandwich, making the biggest mental note ever to visit Peter after school today.

…

You knocked on Peter’s front door. You heard footsteps approaching before the door swung open, revealing Aunt May.

“(Y/N), hi honey, how are you?” she asked sweetly.

“Good thanks May. Is Peter around?” As you finished your question you saw her turn around and look back inside the living room. She swung back around and gave you a sympathetic smile.

“No, sorry, he’s not home.”

“Oh, okay,” you said sadly, shoulders dropping. “Can you tell him I came by?”

“Of course,” she replied, shutting the door.

She turned around to her nephew who laid on the coach, still in his pyjamas from the night before.

“You have to talk to her Pete,” she said, wishing her nephew would see what was right in front of him.

“Don’t wanna,” he responded sulkily, turning over to burry his face in the pillow.

…

When you opened your eyes, the clock on your nightstand read 12:00. You groaned. Why did I have to wake up?

You heard a squeak come from your window and a figure crawling through. You turned on your lamp to see the reason you had been woken up in the middle of the night.

“Peter,” you sat up, rubbing your eyes tiredly, “what are you doing?”

You opened your eyes fully for the first time and caught sight of the boy. His hair was dishevelled, dark circles clad his under eyes and he was slouching where he stood.

You rose to your feet and your feet travelled you until you stood in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly. His face nuzzled into your neck.

“I’m sorry,” your voice came out barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry too,” he said. You pulled away from the hug and looked up at his face. He looked tired… and heartbroken.

“What happened?” you asked as you both made your way to the edge of your bed, settling onto it.

“She cheated on me.” His voice was soft, and full of upset.

“Oh Peter, I’m sorry,” you said, wrapping your arm around his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. I should’ve listened to you. You wondered why I was with a girl like her. I thought she really did like me… but turns out she never did.” His voice broke a little towards the end. He brought his fist up to the bridge of his nose as his squinted his eyes shut. Your heart dropped seeing him so upset.

“Well, as least you never have to help her find a word that rhymes with Science for a school cheer again,” Peter let out a teary laugh, and laughed even harder when you started impersonating Sally, “Ready, OKAY!” you said, clapping your hands together.

He smiled as he pulled your clasped hands down to hold his.

“I think the thing that hurt the most was that I put so much time and effort and heart into her when I should have been putting it into someone who actually cares about me and understands me. You’ve been here all along (Y/N),” he said, looking deeply into your eyes. His hand came up to cup your face, bring you closer to his lips.

“I think I know where you belong Pete,” you whispered, only inches away from his face, “I think, I know it’s with me,” you said before meeting him in a passionate deep kiss.

a/n: lmao sorry if this is terrible idk but my brain just could not compute words while writing this. Feedback is always appreciated xx

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(sorry if it won’t let me tag you!)

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[kpoppywrites]

The Wedding-(M)

Pairing TaehyungxOC (named)

Genres: romance, fluff, smut

Premise: Taehyung’s youngest sister is getting married. What she wants is what she gets. Though, there’s an early bump in the road regarding a meddling bridal consultant. 

Word count: 6972

(From the Preview)

“Don’t you think that’s a little…,”

“What’s wrong with it? Is it the price?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem? The consultant said it was really in these days and I love it!”

“The consultant doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Isn’t there something…I don’t know, a bit more traditional?”

“Taehyung, don’t big brother me.” She huffed.

“But I am your big brother.” He replied.

She rolled her eyes. “The consultant helped me pick it out and I like it. So unless you have a better idea, which I doubt given your questionable taste in fashion, this is the one I want.”

“Just where is this all-knowing bridal consultant?” He complained.

“All-knowing is a bit much, even for me. Nice to meet you, you must be the brother? I’m Camille.” She offered a hand, smiling.

Taehyung blinked for a moment before shaking her hand. “I am. Nice to meet you, too. But I have to say I’m not a fan.” He declared.

She raised an eyebrow.

“That dress is sheer! It’s a wedding!” Taehyung began.

“Yuna, why don’t you head back to the fitting room and put on your regular clothes? Seems he’s up for a chat?” Camille said, glancing at the bride.

“Don’t be rude. She loves that dress.” She complained as soon as the younger girl was out of ear shot.

“She said you picked it. So pick something different.” He reaffirmed.

“You’re being ridiculous.” Camille scoffed.

“I’m being reasonable! There are hundreds of dresses in here me you put her in a sheer wedding dress?” He replied, exasperated.

“It’s going to look different post alterations. In any case my job is to cater to the bride, not her wallet. So be a good credit card and spend. She picked that dress out of like fifty we tried on yesterday when you elected not to be present. I think she’s played the field. She’s a grown woman and she knows what she wants.”

“Look, I get that you have a job to do, I’m just asking you to do it—,” he began before she reappeared, dressed and ready to go.

“Tae, come on, don’t harass my bridal consultant. Thank you so much Camille, I’ll see you in a couple of months?” Yuna asked.

“Yes of course! Thank you for coming by again today. And thank you, Mr. Kim for making this all possible.” Camille replied, grinning.

“We’re not done discussing this but we should get going if we want to make lunch.” Taehyung sighed.

Camille smiled and waved. Working in a bridal shop, family opinions often ran rampant, but a little pushiness never hurt if it kept the bride’s opinion first and foremost. Despite his blatant dislike for the dress one thing came across very clear to Camille: Yuna gets what Yuna wants and Yuna? She really wanted that dress.

Taehyung seemed to do all but quietly agree in the days following. In his spare moments, her phone was ringing off the hook. Her office number, her cell number. So insistent on encouraging Yuna to reconsider. 

She was over it by the third week and answered the phone on that Tuesday with the mind to lose the entire wedding just for the satisfaction of cursing him out. 

“Mr. Kim, what do you need?” She answered, flatly. “I hope now isn’t a bad time.” He replied. 

“Depends on what you’re calling about.” Camille said, hoping to reign her irritation in just a little. “I know I’ve been giving you a hard time about the dress but this isn’t about that. You see, Yuna is becoming very particular about this wedding. I’m hoping to make things special for her. For that, I know she’ll expect me to dress to the theme like everyone else. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly how to do that. Her planner…, your mother…advised me to contact you. She said you also help dress members of the bridal family or party?” 

He seemed genuinely unsure. Something she wasn’t quite familiar with hearing from him after weeks of him attempting to wear her down. In that instant, irritation melted away in exchange for the familiar excitement fashion brought to her. 

“Yes, of course. When would you like to meet?” 

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“It’s rare for you to be around during the week.” Mrs. Rose commented. “Yeah, I know. I came to see your book for the Yuna Kim wedding.” Camille explained. 

“Oh? Sure. It’s in my study.” Her mother replied. She was reclining in the backyard near the pool. “Mom, why did you send him to me?” Cami asked. 

“Because I know you can help. Is there anything else you need? I’m relaxing.” The elder woman replied. 

“No, of course not. I’ll take a peek and then be on my way. I’ll be back Saturday night. Please tell Dad I said hello.” She said. “Mmhmm.” Mrs. Rose hummed. Camille rolled her eyes and headed inside. 

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Taking a few pictures for reference, Camille headed home for the night. She was greeted at the door of her two bedroom apartment by Cairo, her beloved Russian blue tabby. 

“Did you miss me, snookums? I’m a little later today. Let’s get you fed again, hmm?” She said, scooping him up and carrying him into the kitchen. She quickly prepared more food for him before washing her hands and getting started on her own. She had agreed to have Taehyung pick her up at 8 the next morning. If not for the fact that he’d been on her last nerve, she might be anxious. Instead she wondered how to get it over with as quickly as possible. 

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After cooking dinner and showering, Camille crashed hard. It was fulfilling but exhausting being around all the anxious energy that came with brides and their parties. 

Around seven the next morning she woke up and dug around to find clothes. Settling on a casual dress and heels, she grabbed her purse and headed down to the lobby after giving Cairo a bit of extra love. 

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

“You look nice. Thanks for uh, coming.” Taehyung said, clearing his throat. “Thank you. Just go to the nearest shopping center. I looked at the wedding book so I have a decent idea of a fitting look. Did you have anything in mind?” She asked. 

“I mean, Yuna always complains about how I dress. I just don’t want the hissy fit that will come with me dressing the way I want to for her wedding.” He said. Camille chuckled. “I mean, your shoes are ugly but other than that I don’t think your style is bad.” She shrugged. 

“I love these shoes.” He complained. “By label?” She teased. 

“I’m starting to think you’re just mean. First you put my sister in a semi sheer wedding dress when I begged for modesty and now you make fun of my favorite pair of shoes.” He poked. She chuckled. “Okay, I’ll leave you be. Anyway, you said you’re an entertainer, are you willing to elaborate? You look a bit too squeaky for rock band.” Camille explained. 

“Well, it’s a boy band.” He explained. “Ah, makes sense.” She nodded. “In what way?” He wondered. “Nothing. Just saying. Anyway, you’re really going all out for your sister’s wedding and I have to admire that.” Camille replied. 

“You must get tired of hearing about weddings?” He asked. “No. Not really. I love wedding dresses and helping brides find them. It gives me a real sense of satisfaction.” She said. “That’s good then. Do you think it will take away from your own wedding?” He asked. 

“I’m not concerned about that right now. I’m not having my own wedding anytime soon. For all I know, I could have been out of this job for years by the time that comes up.” She replied. “So you’re not seeing anyone? That’s a bit surprising.” He mumbled. “Yeah, until you get to know me maybe. What about you? Are you going to cry when you get married and your wife wears a semi-sheer wedding dress?” She teased. 

Taehyung laughed. “Well, I don’t even have a girlfriend. It’s not as if I have reason to be concerned either.” He shrugged. “I see.” 

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

Arriving at the shopping mall, Taehyung pulled on a pair of large shades. “Are those really necessary?” She scoffed. “You would be surprised. Now lead the way.” 

They started in an upscale department store. “Are you open to alterations? I think that since you’re so slim, getting whatever we pick tailored would be good.” Camille explained, holding one of the jackets up to his chest. “Whatever you suggest is fine.” He said. 

“Okay. You have beautiful skin and it won’t clash with the wedding. I want to put you in blue or all black.” She said, thinking aloud. “Beautiful skin?” He grinned. “Yes. Your complexion is nice. I’m sure you know that though.” He replied. “Eh, where I come from its taken one of two ways. I don’t hear that often.” He replied. 

“Oh, well, I guess we have that in common. You’re welcome.” 

Taehyung was easy to dress because he did look good in so many things. She picked out a few different sets before sending him to the fitting room.

When he came out of the first few times she was mildly displeased and set him back. The fifth or sixth time, she was nearly stunned to silence. “Try this tie.” She said, offering it to him. He looked down at it. “You don’t like it?” She frowned. “No I just...can’t put it on.” He admitted, flushed. She chuckled. 

“Oh, if that’s all it’s easy. I’ve assisted at enough weddings for this.” She replied, reading the tie around his neck. Taehyung looked down at her. She offered him a smile before focusing on tying everything and getting it straight. 

Once she finished tying the tie, she smoothed down the front of his suit before stepping back and appraising the look. “This is it. Do you like it?” She asked. He turned to look in the mirror. “It’s nice.” He nodded. “Good. We’ll get shoes and then I’m going to take you to see our tailor.” She said. “Sounds good.” He grinned. Camille had really forgotten just how handsome he was when he was getting on her nerves. But now, it suddenly flooded back to her. “I’ll be looking in the shoe section. Bring that with you.” 

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

“That didn’t take very long.” Taehyung said, thoughtful. 

“Did you expect it to?” She asked, mildly amused. 

“I’m not sure. I just thought it would take longer than two hours. You work fast.” He mused. 

“It’s a gift. Anyway, you don’t have to pay me for it. It’s not that big a deal.” Camille asked. “Can I at least treat you to lunch?” He wondered. “I can’t turn that down. I’m physically starving.” She replied. He laughed. “I know a good place.” 

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

“You seem to have a very vested interest in fashion.” Taehyung said. 

“I wanted to be a designer. Things just didn’t pan out quite right.” She admitted. 

“That’s a shame. What held you back?” He asked. 

“Lots of things it just...wasn’t what I thought it was. I’m happy as things are now.” Cami expressed. 

“That’s good then. So tell me, are you going to eat all that?” He teased, looking at her plate. “Me? Absolutely.” 

Lunch was all laughs and jokes. Camille couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun with someone who wasn’t one of her long time friends. She was almost a bit disappointed as everything wrapped up. Taehyung drove her home shortly after. “Hey, I don’t want to be weird about this but..., would you like to go to the wedding...with me?” Taehyung offered. “Would that get you in some kind of trouble?” She asked. “No.” He replied. “Then..., sure. Let’s do that.” Camille replied. “So I guess...I’ll see you when alterations are done?” Taehyung asked. “If you want.” She said, unsure. “I’ll call. Thanks again.” 

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Taehyung didn’t call. Two weeks passed and Camille wondered what exactly had changed. Why he’d lied. With a resigned sigh, she reclined on the couch, Cairo curling himself up in his lap. 

“You’re such a good boy. I’m so lucky to have you.” She cooed, scratching behind his ears. He purred. “I should take you to the park tomorrow, huh? You don’t get out much.” She sighed. 

She turned on a movie and set her alarm. In no time at all, she was sleep. 

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Alterations called two months after the suit had been dropped off. Camille was then tasked with contacting Taehyung. She texted him and they eventually agreed to meet there. 

“Let’s get this over with. Try it on.” Camille urged. He looked like he wanted to say something but he held his tongue. 

“Handsome boyfriend. Your mom never mentioned him.” The tailor, Mrs. Lin grinned. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s the brother of one of our brides.” Camille quickly explained. 

“Really? He has the look.” She replied. 

“Occupational hazard. He’s a celebrity.” Camille replied. 

“I know it’s been a couple of weeks but I still can’t tie this.” Taehyung commented, exiting the dressing room with the top of his shirt unbuttoned and the tie lying across his neck. 

Camille stepped forward to quickly remedy the situation, buttoning his shirt up, too. “Mrs. Lin, your work is incredible as always. He looks excellent.” Camille said, looking him over. “You give me too much credit. I just fix the clothes.” The elder lady replied, blushing. 

“How does it feel? You can move and everything, right?” Camille asked, looking back at Taehyung. He nodded. “Good. I guess that settles everything. Mrs. Lin, really...thank you again.” Camille said. “Just doing my job, dear.” 

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Camille headed to her car, hitting her key to unlock the door. 

“Camille, wait.” He called she ignored him and opened her door before tossing her purse inside. She closed the door and hooked her seatbelt. Seeing he was still standing there, she rolled down her window. 

“What do you need? Some other service I can offer you, perhaps?” She asked. He cringed. Camille rolled her eyes. “Can we just..., talk? Could we go to lunch or something?” He asked. 

“This is my lunch break. I need to be back to work in twenty minutes.” She said, glancing at her watch. “Dinner?” He asked. She scoffed. 

“What would I agree to go to dinner with you for?” She asked. “Well, you’re still my date to the wedding right?” He replied. “I don’t know? Am I?” She replied flatly. Taehyung sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was light brown when she first met him, Black the second time and now it was an electric blue. 

“I’m sorry, Okay? If you give me a chance to explain—,” he started before she cut him off. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I hardly know you. Now, I would hate to be late to work. Have a nice day. I’ll be seeing your sister for alterations soon. Please don’t come.” She replied, switching her car into drive. “Camille, don’t be like that. Please, just dinner?” He asked again. Looking at him it was difficult to say no. “Whatever.” 

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“I didn’t think you’d come.” He admitted. 

“Some people keep their word. Anyway, what’s your aim here?” She asked, flatly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I really did mean to. I got kind of...mixed up and then work picked up. By the time I knew it, a month had passed and I felt like I couldn’t do it then. But in case I wasn’t clear before..., I’m interested in you. Since I first saw you I thought you were so beautiful. More than that... I could somehow see myself with you and I’ve never felt like that before. It probably sounds lame but I did get nervous. I still want you to be my date. If not...I understand. The way I handled things was shifty. So, I’m sorry if I upset you and I appreciate your help picking out the suit and shoes. And tying the tie.” Taehyung explained. 

“I...I don’t know what to say. Well, you’re welcome...about the clothes and stuff.” She replied, suddenly a bit uncomfortable. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. She’d fully planned him to give some lame apology so she could eat and leave but this felt so...heavy. 

“You don’t have to give a response. We could just eat. But also, I really asked your mother for your referral because I wanted to take you on a date. But you found the suit so fast.” He admitted. “Why didn’t you just...ask me regularly?” 

“Just because you very clearly were annoyed by me about the dress.” He replied. “You’re right about that.” She nodded. He grinned. 

“I’ll still go...to the wedding with you I mean. I already picked out a dress and shoes. And how to do my hair and makeup.” She admitted, a hint of red falling over her brown skin. Taehyung smiled even more at that. It was a quiet dinner but a comfortable one. The beginnings of something. At the end of the night, they parted with waves and the agreement to meet on Saturday. 

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“You get cuter every time I see you.” Taehyung teased. Camille was dressed in an oversized sweater, jeans and sneakers. They’d agreed to meet for lunch once again. 

“Ugh, Cairo.” She sighed, brushing off the gray hairs. “Should I ask who that is?” Taehyung asked, raising an eyebrow. “He’s my cat. My roommate really. Do you have any animals?” She asked. “A dog. His name is Tannie.” Taehyung said, flashing her a picture. “How cute.” She grinned. 

“Yeah, I miss him a ton when I’m working.” He sighed. “Right it must be a lot to travel with him.” She nodded. “I take him sometimes but things are just so busy.” Taehyung lamented. “I can’t be separate from Cairo for more than a day. He’s my baby.” She replied. “Is he dog friendly?” 

“He’s everything friendly.” She confirmed. “Good to know. I was thinking we could eat a bit lighter and perhaps do some shopping?” Taehyung offered. “Sounds okay to me.” She nodded. He offered a hand and she reluctantly took it. “Wow, your hand is so small.” He teased. “I think you’re just a bit big.” She chuckled. 

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“I had a good time. Not like I needed to spend so much money though.” Camille laughed as he pulled into the parking lot of her complex. 

“I had a good time too. And I did offer to pay.” He reminded her. “I know, I know. I guess I’ll see you...soon?” She asked. 

“I hope so. Hey, don’t forget your milkshake.” He warned. She reached for the cup but before she had a firm grip on it, he let it go. The cup fell and the strawberry drink painted his lap. 

“Oh my gosh. I’m sorry. Uhh..., just come up to my place. I will clean your pants for you. I might have some sweatpants you can wear till then.” She replied, frazzled. 

“Cami, it’s fine. But sure, I’ll come up. I’d love to meet the man of the house.” 

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“Cairo, we have a guest.” She called, letting Taehyung in. He took his shoes off. 

“The laundry is in there. I’ll go grab those sweatpants.” She explained. He nodded. 

She passed Cairo napping in the extra room before closing the door, so not to disturb him. She shuffled through her closet before finding the sweatpants her friend had left behind. 

She walked back before knocking on the laundry room door. Once Taehyung answered she handed him the sweatpants before heading back to her room to find a pair for herself. When she re-emerged, Taehyung was manspread on her couch and she thought she might die. She cleared her throat. 

“I’ll uh, throw your stuff in the washer. Do you want something to drink? Or maybe a snack?” Camille offered. “I’m fine, thanks.” He replied. Nervous my ass. Camille thought to herself. She really hadn’t thought too deeply when she invited him up and now that he was there, the apartment felt too small. Too private. 

She threw his pants into the washer and rejoined him. She took a seat on the edge of the couch, a bit away from him. “You can sit closer.” He offered. “No I...I think I’m fine.” She mumbled. “These are big sweatpants.” He mused. “They’re a friend’s.” She replied. “A friend I should worry about?” he wondered. “Chan? No.” Camille laughed. “Are you sure?” He replied. 

“He’s married to my cousin. We’re all very close. He was just in town for something and I let him stay here so he wouldn’t have to book a hotel.” She nodded. “Good.” He nodded. 

“Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?” Camille teased. “Nope. I’ve pretty much decided that this is set in stone.” He declared. She scoffed. “As if that’s a one person decision. Don’t be presumptuous.” She warned. 

“Camille, you definitely like me.” Taehyung replied. “I wonder how much longer it will take those pants.” She replied, changing the subject. “It’s only been five minutes.” He pointed out. “Points were made. I’m grabbing a drink.” She sighed, standing. When she returned from the kitchen, Taehyung again offered her a closer seat and she reluctantly took it. He’d turned on some art documentary. “You interested in this stuff?” She wondered. “Yeah. I like art. I would’ve taken you to the museum today but I didn’t want to be cliche and you seem to open up a bit more in the comfort of clothes.” He explained. She grinned. “Nothing wrong with cliche dates. But yes, I feel in my element around clothes.” She nodded. “I get why. Can I see your dress for the wedding?” He asked. 

“Eh, maybe that’s better as a surprise.” She replied. “But you’ve seen what I’m wearing.” He reminded her. “Yeah, But...,” she started before trailing off. 

“Okay, what about your closet in general?” He asked. “Who asks that?” She replied, baffled. “You’re very into fashion. I feel like that’s one way to get closer to you.” He shrugged. “Oh...okay.” She reluctantly caved. He enthusiastically followed her down the hall to her room and into her closet. “It’s so organized. I’m jealous.” He said, looking around. 

“Well, it makes it easier to get ready for work half awake.” She lightly joked. He chuckled. “This is a nice dress.” He said, pointing out her red body con. “I’m sure you would think that.” She replied. “Really, you probably look really nice in it. Then again, you look nice in everything.” He nodded. “You’re so full of it.” Camille laughed. “I’m being honest.” He shrugged. 

Then, he paused, as if he spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She was suddenly struck. The lingerie..., it wasn’t as if she planned for him to come in her closet. She would’ve moved if otherwise. 

“Now this...is quite unexpected.” He said, pulling down one hanger. “Oh my gosh, put that back!” Camille complained, reaching to snatch it from him, he moved. “Have you worn this before?” He wondered. “Taehyung please.” She mumbled, beyond embarrassed. “You should put it on.” He declared. “Are you crazy?” She balked. “No? I would just really love to see you put this on. You don’t have to though, if I’m overstepping I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized. “It’s not..,” she started before trailing off. “I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He cringed. “I’ll put it on.” Camille decided. He balked. “You’ll what?” 

“I said I would put it on. Wait in the room.” She said. He swallowed before nodding and making himself scarce. Closing the door to the closed, she stripped down and took her time to put the set on correctly. She even put on her favorite studded red bottoms. 

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“Is any of today real?” Taehyung wondered, in disbelief as he looked her over. She resisted the urge to duck back into the closet in favor of looking down and taking small steps towards him. 

“You look...you’re so...how?” He mumbled. “Is is...good?” Camille asked. “Camille..., you look amazing. I’d say I have a fairly active imagination and you’re really blowing all my expectations away. I don’t deserve this.” He replied. His eyes were constantly looking over her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit boosted. She smiled, shyly. 

“And you’re so fucking cute.” He groaned. “Well uh, I think I should change back now.” She decided, retreating to the closet. He seemed to be fine with that. She closed the door behind her and when she turned it back it immediately closed and reopened again, she turned to him, flustered. “Can I...can I kiss you?” He asked. She nodded before she really thought about it. He turned her around, cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers in seconds. She opened her mouth to him quickly as he overtook her. One hand moved to the back of her neck while the other slid down to her ass. There was a rub, then a slap and a grab. She moaned into the kiss. He pulled away. 

“I’m sorry. I think I got a bit carried away. I don’t want to move to quickly. I really do like you.” He quickly apologized. “Who said it was moving too quickly?” Camille asked before sliding down onto her knees. Taehyung’s eyes went wide for a moment before he grinned. 

“Are you really offering me?” He wondered? She slid her hand up his leg before palming him through the sweatpants. “Why don’t you find out?” She teased. 

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“I think I’m actually dead. That’s it.” Taehyung said, looking at her bedroom ceiling. “You’re so dramatic.” She chuckled, laying her head on his chest. 

“As I said, I must be dead. There’s no way that just happened. Right now you’re cuddled up to me in a fuzzy sweater and shorts but like ten minutes ago you blew me in lingerie and heels.” 

“You’re going to make me self-conscious if you keep bringing it up.” Camille groaned. “I just..., I don’t know how I can top that. What can I do for you?” He replied. 

“Nothing. I just like laying here and holding your hand.” She admitted. “I really have the cutest girlfriend.” Taehyung said, wistfully. She giggled. 

“Girlfriend. I like the sound of that.” 

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“So..., your sister came in for alterations.” Camille said, sitting up and pulling his t-shirt over her head. 

“Please don’t be mad.” He sighed. 

“We’ve been dating for months and I’m your date to her wedding and she has no idea?” She replied. 

“I’ve hardly talked to Yuna. But i will tell her.” Taehyung assured her. “Can you promise me that? I’ve dated interracially before. I know how it is, I just hoped you weren’t like that, Tae.” She said, looking back at him. “I’m not. Yes, I promise you. Don’t worry, Okay?” He said, reaching and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her back to him. 

She giggled as he nuzzled into her. “You’re my girlfriend that I adore very much. I promise I just hadn’t gotten around to it. I’m not playing you and I’m not keeping you a secret. I’ve even told my members about you. They want to meet now and I said I’d ask when you were free, but I want your free time for myself.” He teased, tickling near her ribs. As she was overcome with laughter she attempted to crawl away from him. Of course to no avail. 

“Okay, okay. I’d love to meet them. A lunch break maybe?” She offered, catching her breath. 

“Sounds good to me. Now lay back down. I’m suddenly a bit hungry.” 

——

Months with Taehyung passed like hours. It had been three months already when he brought he to meet his groupmates. Six boys much too handsome for their own good, but none as handsome or charming as Taehyung himself. 

“No wonder he doesn’t bring you to the dorm. I’m surprised you see the light of day. I don’t think I’d ever leave if I had you waiting at home.” Hoseok flirted. “You’re too kind.” She replied, laughing. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s gross. It’s nice to meet you.” Jimin said, offering his hand. Camille shook it. “It’s nice to meet you all, too. I’ve heard a lot about you. Taehyung adores you guys.” Camille poked. 

“It’s been a long time since we all met. We’re a family of our own.” Jin said, smiling. “That’s really sweet.” Camille replied. 

“How long have you two been together?” Jungkook wondered. “A couple months. I met her when I went wedding dress shopping with Yuna.” Taehyung explained. “Oh, weren’t you pissed about that?” Namjoon asked. 

“Yeah. He was calling me weekly to complain about it.” Camille replied, laughingly. “I’m telling you, when you see that dress you’ll understand.” Taehyung explained. “I mean your sister is hot so—,” Jungkook started before Jimin whacked him. 

“Maybe you don’t need to come to the wedding.” Taehyung complained. “She invited us.” Yoongi reminded him. “He’s just being difficult. But we all know Yuna gets what Yuna wants.” Camille teased. 

“Don’t tease me, Ms. I have a whole room in my apartment just for my cat.” Taehyung poked. “Cairo needs his own room so I don’t disturb him when I come in. He’s a big boy, I just give him what he deserves.” 

“Big? That cat almost fits in my hand.” Taehyung replied. “Are you saying your hands are small?” She challenged. He balked. “You’re right. He’s a big boy.” Taehyung nodded. The others laughed. 

“You two...I like it.” Yoongi declared. “Yeah, it seems like you two are good with each other. The fact that we’re meeting means a lot.” Namjoon assured her. “Well..., that makes me feel a bit better.” She admitted. 

“I told you I wasn’t being shifty.” Taehyung replied. “Yeah, I know. But people lie and I haven’t known you that long. But like I said, that makes me feel better.” She said, squeezing his hand. “You’ll be at the wedding, right?” Jungkook asked. Camille nodded. “That should be fun, then.” Hoseok smiled. “I love weddings.” Camille admitted. 

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Between work and other things, the next few months blew by, all the time, Taehyung and Camille grew closer. 

“You’re back from work.” Camille cheered, crawling into bed. He’d had a key to her apartment for a little over a month. His returns were often a surprise, as they’d had a string of concerts recently. 

“Oh, you’re off early.” Taehyung yawned, rolling over and lifting his arm to invite her closer. She cuddled up to him. “I missed you. You told me you wouldn’t be back till the wedding in two weeks.” She mumbled, burying her head in his chest. 

“Well, I had some time and I wanted to see you.” He said, his voice heavy with sleep. She heard purring and looked to see Cairo laid on the foot of the bed. “Oh, you were bonding with my boy?” She teased. “I think he came to assault me then got lazy.” Taehyung joked. They both laughed. “I’m going to put Cairo in his bed. Are you hungry? Should I cook?” Camille asked. “You just got in from work. I’ll call takeout.” 

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“Can I kiss you?” Camille asked, looking into Taehyung’s eyes from her spot on his lap. “Do you have to ask?” He grinned. She leaned forward and kissed him twice. “The wedding is soon, have you talked to Yuna?” Camille asked. “I’m meeting her for lunch tomorrow and I swear I will tell her then.” He replied. Camille frowned and climbed off of his lap. “Babe..., please don’t be mad at me.” Taehyung sighed. “Tae..., you’ve had all this time and yet...,” she replied, frustrated. He picked up his phone. “Give me a second.” He said, unlocking his phone and dialing a number. It rang a few times. 

“Tae? What’s up? You’re not cancelling lunch, right?” Yuna asked. “No, no. Of course not. I wanted to talk to you about my plus one. My girlfriend.” He explained. “Just bring her tomorrow, Tae. I’m about to get a massage.” She replied before hanging up. “Can you take your lunch break with us?” He asked. She sighed. “I’m really not trying to keep you secret. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m serious about you. I promise.” He said, pulling her back by her waist. 

“Taehyung..., I love you.” Camille admitted. “And I love you, too. Trust me, please.” He said, nuzzling into her neck. He placed a kiss on her neck. She turned her head to give him a kiss. “Mmm, let’s go to your bedroom.” He offered. “You think you’re getting some tonight?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “I know I am.” He grinned, stealing another kiss. “Only if you do all the work.” Camille folded. “There a whole lot to work with. I can handle it.” He said, scooping her up. 

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“I never get tired of this.” Taehyung groaned, looking her over as he peeled the layers of her clothing off. “Oh yeah?” She asked. “I think it gets better each time. You just look so good.” He replied, unclipping her bra. “Do you have to keep the light on, though?” She mumbled, feeling suddenly self-conscious. 

“Camille, you’re beautiful and I want to be able to see you.” He said, leaning down to kiss her. As promised she allowed him to control the pace. He gradually moved from her mouth to her neck and down to her chest. His hand slipped down between her legs. “You tease too much.” She moaned. “I just want you to be ready.” He grinned against her skin before kissing down to her bellybutton. She giggled. 

“How are you still so ticklish.” Taehyung teased. “Stop tickling me and get to it.” She complained. Taehyung chuckled and slipped his finger inside. Her laughs turned into moans. “Maybe...two?” He teased, adding another. He set a rhythm and she was quick to run with it. In no time she was panting and moving against him. “Taehyung please, just do it.” She whined. “Do what, Camille?” He teased. “Fuck me, please.” She groaned. “Is that what you really want?” Taehyung poked. She was near tears. “Yes. Please.” 

“Don’t cry, baby. I’m taking my time tonight. You want to be convinced, right?” He reminded her, removing his fingers and sticking them in his mouth. “I just want you to hurry up.” 

He shifted to wedge himself between her legs. “This is what you want?” He asked, pressing his tip to her core. She nodded, whimpering. He was quick to push all the way in. She gasped. “You feel so good. God, I love you.” Taehyung moaned. “Please, move.” Camille moaned. He moved but he set a slow and punishing pace. It was more like torture and Camille was close to losing it. 

“I love you so much. You’re mine.” He repeated. “Then show me.” She moaned. 

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“I really do love you and I see us being together for a very long time. Don’t forget that.” Taehyung said, tangling his legs with hers. 

“I love you, too. Please keep being as honest as you are with me.” She requested. He grinned and kissed her three times. 

“I will. Get some rest. I didn’t want to wear you out tonight.” He replied. “You didn’t. I’m just really glad you’re here.” She replied. He stroked her hair and she gradually relaxed before eventually falling asleep. 

Taehyung was still sleep when she left for work. She showered him with kissed and headed out. 

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She helped a client find bridesmaid dresses in the morning and made it to lunch a bit late. Taehyung and Yuna were already seated and happily chatting away. She was suddenly nervous. Unsure...scared. She couldn’t join them...could she? Just as she began to seriously consider turning and walking out, Yuna caught her eye. The was a brightness before she smiled and waved her over. Taehyung turned in her direction as well before smiling. 

“You’re late.” He pointed out, taking her hand as she sat. “Sorry..., things a work ran a little long.” She apologized, slightly uncomfortable. 

“It’s fine. Nice to see you again. You know, I told my mom that I thought Tae had a crush on our bridal consultant.” Yuna said, smiling. “I don’t know about that.” Camille replied, laughing. “I did, from the beginning.” Taehyung confirmed. “How did he move in on you?” Yuna teased. 

“He said he needed help finding a suit for the wedding and asked my mother for a referral.” Camille replied. “Ha, classic. You’d think he’d have the balls to ask flat out.” She poked. Taehyung scoffed. They laughed. “Really, you’re very cute and as long as you treat him very well, I’m fully in support.” Yuna said. 

“That means a lot. Thank you.” Camille replied. “No need to thank me. I’m glad you’re coming to the wedding to see me in that dress you picked though.” Yuna smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

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

“You have to go back to work?” Taehyung asked. Camille nodded. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” He asked. She nodded. 

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The morning of the wedding, Camille was ready bright and early in her yellow 2-piece dress set. 

She arrived at the venue and sat where her mother waved her. It was nice to be attending a wedding rather than helping with one. 

“Look who it is?” She turned and smiled, seeing Jungkook and the others. He took the seat next to her. “It’s nice to see you all again.” She smiled. “You too, this place is beautiful.” Jin said, looking around. “Yeah, my mother really does know how to put on a wedding.” She mused. 

“Taehyung should be around soon. He was having a last minute chat with Yuna.” Namjoon assured her. She nodded, understanding. Camille didn’t bother mention the fact that she knew that well because he had called her before or that she could wait because they had spent the night together, she just nodded. 

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“Okay...I’ll give it to you. You were right. Yuna looked like a princess and most importantly, she was happy.” Taehyung said, hugging Camille close to him as everyone dance. The wedding had blown by and as things winded down, the closer he pressed to her. 

“Told you I know my stuff. Speaking of which, you look even better than I imagined in these clothes.” She replied, pulling away just a bit to smooth down the front again. He smiled. She leaned on her tip toes and kissed him. “And you look so cute today. A good surprise.” He replied, kissing her lightly again. 

He grinned. He looked around before pulling her to the side. “Looks like my parents are done mingling. Do you want to meet them?” He offered. “I would love to.”

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

Camille was pretty giddy when they returned home. They removed their shoes at the front door before she squeaked as Taehyung swooped her up and basically jogged to her room. He closed the door behind them before setting her to her feet. Immediately, Camille began undressing. 

“Aren’t you eager?” He teased. “You ran in here carrying me.” She reminded him. “Touché. Go lay down on bed, baby.” He urged. She looked up at him. “I’ll follow, don’t worry.” He urged. Camille turned and walked over before sitting on the bed and working to get the rest of her dress off. 

Taehyung reached into his coat pocket. “So I talked to Yuna today before the wedding.” He said. Still occupied undressing she didn’t immediately look his way. “I know. She’s lucky to have such a sweet brother.” She replied. “I really needed her opinion.” He said. 

Camille furrowed her brows. “What for? I kept you from wearing those hideous shoes.” She replied. Taehyung laughed before approaching her and kneeling down in front of her. He had her attention now. She looked down at him, curious. “As a woman getting married I thought she was in the mind frame to tell me if this was good enough...for you?” He said, pulling out the square velvet box and opening it. The shock on her face was immediate, her hands flew to her mouth. “She said it was lovely but I still have doubts because I don’t think I could find a ring good enough for you. Or that anyone could make one that special. I don’t know who would be your go-to bridal consultant now or how I’ll find clothes for the wedding without your help..., but I think it will be okay? Even if you wear a sheer dress? And I wear my hideous shoes?” He continued, clearly a bit nervous. 

“Are you serious? You really...want to marry me? Will it be okay? Will you be okay with me?” Camille asked, suddenly crying. “Okay? With you? Camille..., you’re much more than I ever could have expected. If you’ll have me, I’ll take care of you, Cairo and Tannie forever. So...what do you say?” He asked. “I would love...to marry you.” He slipped the ring on and she practically tackled him to her floor, her arms around his neck. He chuckled, catching her and bracing for impact. She kissed him. “I love you.” He whispered when she pulled away from his lips to hug him again. 

“Not as much as I love you.” Camille quipped. “I’m sure I have you beat.” He grinned. “You’ll change your mind when we get through what I’m about to do to you.” She assured him, reminding him of her state of undress. 

“I do like the sound of that.” 

[waywardrose-archive]

I’m OBSESSED!! With xoxo. Modern triplets is my fav and you do such a great job at writing them! I hope you do another part. Possibly involving them eating dinner and heading to Kylo’s bedroom ;)

(The xoxo sweet nonny here is referring to is Hotshot House Show. (At the time, I hadn’t put the title on the post. Oops!))

I adore modern Solo triplets as well! I’m glad I’ve done them justice in your eyes. So, with that in mind, how about a sequel instead of a continuation of the night? I hope this satisfies. Thank you for reading and prompting!

pairing: kylo ren x reader

rating: mature

warning/tags: college au, art-majors kylo and reader, nude photography, assisted masturbation

-

WORKED SHOOT

You’d been setting up all morning in preparation for the afternoon light. You were sweating. The heating in the house had been turned up just for this afternoon, and it felt like a sauna. You’d stripped off your insulating layers until you were just in a thin t-shirt and leggings.

Photography midterms were due in two weeks, and you only had one of the four photos you needed. You silently berated yourself because you’d known this was coming. It was on the damn syllabus.

But who actually read the syllabus?

Tuesday’s class had been all about the midterm. While it wasn’t a huge portion of your grade, you certainly didn’t want to flunk it. You had to produce two portraits and two still-life. You’d taken a page out of Edward Weston’s book and gone to the grocery story for interestingly-shaped vegetables.

Your first photo had been a great shot of loose potatoes in their wood crate. You stuck the lens right through the slates to capture the lumpy topography and texture of dirt. You’d futzed with f-stops, angles, and your macro lens right there in the produce section.

At the end of the impromptu shoot, you’d dug around in the crate for older potatoes. Sprouted potatoes were gnarly and would make an excellent close-up. None had been sprouting, unfortunately, but you bought a few to take back to your dorm to mature on the windowsill. Your roommate wasn’t impressed with your newly-washed potato pets, but she didn’t protest either.

After staring at your potato pets for a few minutes, you texted Kylo to see how far he’d gotten with his midterm project. The absolute butthead reported he only had one portrait to go before he was ready to print and mount. You groaned and asked him how he’d shot everything so quickly.

He replied, Read the syllabus and planned it out.

Kylo read the syllabus. Nerd.

How many you got done? he asked.

You typed the number one followed by a string of crying emojis. He sent back a single worried face. The text bubble popped up, so you waited before replying. It disappeared and reappeared, and you wondered what the hell he was typing.

He sent a black-and-white nude of a white woman in repose. She lounged on the floor. The sunlight from an out-of-frame window painted her in dramatic shadows. She had propped herself on one arm with her legs stretched to the side. Her other arm was bent and partially obscuring her averted face. She was elegant insouciance. Something about her was unposed, as if the picture had been a candid or an in-between shot just to use up film.

Anita Ekberg by Mickey Pallas, he sent. A moment later, he added: I’d like my last portrait to be like this

He finished: With you

You’d never done anything like that. Nudity wasn’t a big deal. You’d taken Life Drawing last year, seeing all sorts of naked bodies, and it really was no big deal. But this was you. You’d never posed for nude photography. You had tried taking nudes, but it never quite worked. Angles were hard.

Also, Kylo had never seen you naked.

You had made out with him a handful of times—which was always hot. You’d gotten your hands all over him. However, the down-and-dirty hadn’t happened yet. There was always a privacy issue or time running out or interruptions.

I like this one too, he sent with a link.

You clicked on the link to see another black-and-white nude of a different female model. The photo credit stated “Les Berlingots” by Fernand Fonssagrives. The model was streaked in narrow shadows, morning sun through striped sheers. The shadows serpentined over her graceful curves. You could feel the love the photographer had for her.

You wondered if this was how Kylo saw you. It was flattering if he did. Or maybe he was simply trying to get you naked.

Idk, you replied.

You don’t like them?

No I like them

Both photos were masterfully done, honestly. Spare and focused and well thought-out.

You added, Idk about me being the model

It doesn’t have to be frontal. We can’t submit full nudes anyway

Let me think about it, you sent.

He left you alone for the day, though you knew he was antsy for a real answer. Maybe there was a compromise. However, you couldn’t immediately think of one.

That evening you googled some famous photographers for inspiration. Dorothea Lange was great, but she wasn’t the vibe you were feeling. Margaret Bourke-White was cool, too, but again, not the vibe. You switched to fashion photographers and admired some of the portraits by Richard Avedon. Somehow, you found yourself looking at fashion shoots from the ‘60s.

Then you stumbled upon the pretty Dees triplets. They’d been featured in Life Magazine. You found multiple photos of them posed together. Sometimes they wore the same outfits, in some they only coordinated. But in all they were stylish.

You pointed out that you knew triplets.

The last dream of the night was of taking pictures. Of course. The subject didn’t matter because, in the dream, you already knew the subject. They was clear and perfect. You had them framed perfectly and lit to the gods. However, the digital daguerrotype attached to your shoulder didn’t want to keep its settings. You woke up frustrated with a non-existent camera. On the other hand, you also woke up with your compromise.

You rolled over to grab your phone and texted Kylo: I’ll sit for your portrait if you and your brothers do one for me. I won’t do frontal and you three need to be naked

It was hours before he replied, Ben’s already agreed he’s been wanting to show you what he’s got for weeks

Like you haven’t

I think you’ve touched it enough to know what I’ve got

You sent the smiling devil emoji because, hell yes, you had. Even if it had only been through his jeans. He had nothing to be ashamed of. You supposed that would apply to his brothers as well.

Kylo reported later in the evening Matt had concerns about revealing his face. You contemplated only showing the triplets from the neck down. You could work with that. It might actually be better since they didn’t have the same look.

You agreed to no faces or genitals. That would keep everything PG-13 and within the midterm parameters. The triplets gave you their blessing and the use of their house for the shoot.

Which was how you found yourself hefting dining chairs into their darkened living room on a Saturday morning instead of sleeping in. As you set up the room and your equipment, the triplets withdrew to their bedrooms to disrobe and let any pressure marks from their clothing dissipate. You finished just as the sunlight was starting to stream in through the sliding-glass door in the dining room.

You hopped on top of the relocated dining table and drank the water Matt had provided before withdrawing. You envisioned how you wanted them to pose, how the golden light would play on their skin. Even keeping to Matt’s no-faces, the midterm’s no-genitals, rule left a lot of angles and shots to explore.

There was no point in delaying anymore.

“Guys?” you called. “You ready?”

They quietly shuffled through the house, and you slid off the table as Kylo and Ben came from the second floor while Matt trudged up the lower-level stairs. You reminded yourself they were your models for the shoot and not three hot naked men. You would not ogle them or make them feel uncomfortable. This was your first foray into professionalism, and you wouldn’t fuck it up.

Matt came in first with hands cupping his junk. He didn’t have his glasses on. You asked if he needed them, because it wouldn’t matter for your shots. He replied they weren’t necessary—they were only blue-light-filtering glasses.

Kylo and Ben came up behind Matt as he said, “I forget I’m wearing them sometimes.”

“Yeah, our sweet baby boy here doesn’t mind looking like a geek,” Ben commented as he sauntered around his brothers, like being naked in front of a virtual stranger was no biggie. His twitchy hands gave him away, though.

“Shut up, proto,” Matt grumbled, his cheeks pinking.

Kylo rolled his eyes and shoved Ben further into the room. He wouldn’t look at you.

Ben staggered from the shove as he replied, “Blow me, Discount Barbie.”

“Don’t insult your future girlfriend.”

“At least I talk to girls.”

You interjected, “He talks to me.”

All three froze and looked at you. With a shrug, you stared back. That seemed to cow them.

You told them to stand with their backs to the wall. You wanted a couple test shots to make sure the camera levels were right. Through the viewfinder, you watched them. The sunlight reflected off the pale carpet and hit their creamy skin perfectly. You quickly snapped a few shots as they got comfortable.

Ben cuffed Matt’s shoulder. “Loosen up, Supervirg.” He shook his shoulders to show Matt what he meant. Somehow, that shake moved down his body until he was shimmying his hips. His limp cock bounced against his thighs.

“Fucking quit, Ben,” Kylo hissed as Matt made a face at Ben.

From behind the camera, you grinned. You had expected some helicoptering or suggestive dick-wags. You wondered if Ben knew girls weren’t really into that. His exes, you were sure, had giggled at his antics regardless. He was gregarious and full of bravado—and secretly kindhearted.

You’d seen him across the quad between the English and Sciences buildings a week and a half ago. He’d seen you as well. Instead of throwing you a wave, he’d left his friends to jog to you. He’d walked with you for a bit, talking up Kylo the whole time. Like you were having your doubts about his brother.

“Alright, children,” you announced as you straightened.

The triplets quieted, and you told them how you wanted them. You helped them adjust, checking in with them and keeping your hands to their shoulders. Once they were in place, you stepped back to admire.

You posed each of them to have overlapping shoulders while angled away from the wall. You got them to stand like Michelangelo’s David with one hand resting on their respective shoulder and looking in the same direction. There were minute variations because of hair style, muscle density, and flexibility. However, it was obvious they were triplets even when you didn’t look at their faces.

Maybe it was a trite pose, but they looked beautiful. You reminded yourself it was called a classic pose for a reason.

You took a dozen plain shots, zooming close to get them from the neck down. The sun was just right. You slid the camera off the tripod and moved around the room to find angles you liked. You got shots of their hands, the way their elbows echoed, the softly defined muscles of their bellies, the way their skin shone in the light.

At the end of the line-up, Matt’s lowered hand caught your attention, and you asked if you could get a shot of it. He stumbled over a yes and asked if he needed to do anything. You told him to relax and ignore you. You got on your knees, tilted your camera 90-degrees, and framed his hand just right. You caught the faint beginnings of his dark pubic hair, which made the shot somehow organic and sexy.

You looked up their bodies to see Kylo staring down at you. There was something about his expression, but you didn’t have time to analyze it. You pointed your camera at his face and took rapid-fire shots.

Ben was at the other end of the line. You stood and moved next to him, catching the curl of his wrist and the ball of his shoulder. He grinned at you, all pink-cheeked and charming, when you finally pulled the camera away from your face. You smiled back and snapped a shot of his glowing face.

Then there was Kylo. You brushed a stray hair or two off his forehead. In response, he closed his eyes. You whispered for him to stay still. It was difficult to stay objective with him in front of you. He was serene, vulnerable, and soft. And so kissable. You framed shot after shot, trying to capture him.

“Look at me,” you murmured.

Just as he opened his eyes and found your face, you took a picture. You knew instinctually that was going to be a personal favorite.

You asked them for one more. Your camera interrupted as it whined for fresh batteries, though. You told them to put their arms down and look into the living room. They rallied, relaxing as you retreated and loaded new batteries. Once ready, you backed away to the sliding-glass door and zoomed in to capture their aquiline profiles.

After taking a few insurance shots, you announced you were finished. The triplets sagged as one and laughed amongst themselves. You put the camera back on the tripod and took a few candids of them smiling. You didn’t know if the shots would turn out well, but you could always frankenstein them.

Matt was the first to leave. You thanked him before he did and offered to email him any good shots of himself. He replied he’d like that before scurrying to his lower-level bedroom.

Meanwhile, Ben put his hands on his hips, his fingers aiming at his dick. He asked if you were hungry or thirsty or desired anything. You glanced at Kylo before stating you’d like the thermostat to be turned down to less-than-jungle. Ben took the dismissal with grace. You thanked him, too—even though he’d been so eager to get naked for you.

Kylo scuffed his heel on the carpet and gnawed at his lip before saying: “You wanna stay? Have lunch?”

You thought of the camera’s memory card full of photos that needed to be culled or edited, but you didn’t want to leave. It was only for a little bit, anyway. You hadn’t seen him outside of class all week, either.

You nodded. “Sure!” You pointed at your equipment. “Just let me pack this stuff up.”

He thumbed behind his shoulder. “Cool, I’ll get some pants on.”

You finally let yourself look at him, really see him as more than a subject for a portrait. The long lines of him were alluring; the beautiful turn of his forearms; the broad planes of his pecs. The gentle iliac furrows on either side of his hips drew your attention down to his cock and the thin thatch of hair above it.

“Pants are optional,” you stated before taking your camera off the tripod. If you kept staring, you were going to do or say something embarrassing.

“Uh, yeah, good to know. You want some help?”

“Nah, I got this.”

There was an awkward beat before he offered you more water or a coffee or whatever. You opted for ice water, and he padded away, giving you a great view of his backside. You wanted to follow him around the house and take photos as he did things in the nude. Instead, you capped the camera lens and folded the portable tripod, stowing everything in your backpack.

You shouldered the backpack and threw your thick hoodie on the couch arm next to your sneakers and socks. It was still too hot in the house to cover up. You met him at the foot of the stairs. He appeared to angle his hips away from you—like you hadn’t gotten an eyeful earlier.

“You can leave your backpack down here,” he pointed out. “They won’t mess with it.”

You shrugged your unoccupied shoulder. “Never know when inspiration will hit.”

Kylo studied you for a second before nodding. “After you,” he said and moved his occupied hands towards the stairs.

You guess he didn’t want to lead the way, all things considered. At the top of the short flight, the din of some movie escaped Ben’s closed door. You thought you caught the opening melody from the first Lord of the Rings movie. You stood to the side to let Kylo enter his dark bedroom first.

He flicked on an elbow lamp attached to his desk as you closed the door after yourself. Nothing much had changed in the past week. The black-out drapes remained closed, The Moon tarot-card tapestry still hung behind the generic headboard, the iron-gray quilted comforter set was wrinkled as always.

During that first official date—beginning with the impromptu wrestling match between Kylo and Ben in the living room—he’d shown you his room. He said the house was a furnished rental—his mother’s idea. Most of his stuff was at her place. You asked after his wording. Were his parents divorced? He said it wasn’t like that. His parents loved each other and wanted to be married, but couldn’t live under the same roof.

You walked your backpack to the desk and leaned it on a leg. He’d tacked up a few new sketches on the cork board by his desk. There was a new test sheet for calligraphy, too.

“Here,” he said and offered you a glass of water.

You thanked him and drank deep. He sat on his bed and sipped at his own. He obscured his groin with a forearm. You wondered if he was self-conscious, but trying to hide it. He had nothing to worry about with you. Maybe you should say something.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” you began, holding your glass in front of you. “You don’t have to hide.”

He set his glass down on the nightstand and wiped his palm on a thigh.

You continued, “But if you’d rather…”

“I feel like I’m gonna pop a boner any second,” he muttered.

The very thought of him naked and hard had you feeling hot all over. Your cheeks burned. He’d been hard around you before, even because of you, but not like this.

You looked at his hands, thought of him writhing on his bed as he stroked his straining erection. He’d probably done that each time after you left. Not like you were any different, only you’d taken to lingering in the shower to make yourself come at least once.

You whispered, “It’s okay if you do.”

His head jerked up at that, and his eyes danced across your face. For a moment, he appeared to have a question. You wanted him to ask whatever he wished. He could say anything.

When he said nothing, you put your glass down on the desk and knelt to open your backpack. You watched him as you did, but he didn’t seem to mind you going for the camera. When you stood, camera in hand, he sat up straight.

“Lie back against the pillows,” you said as you uncapped the lens.

Kylo scooted to the center of the bed and reclined. You asked him to let his hands fall to the side and get comfortable. As he did, you angled the elbow lamp to bounce light off the wall instead of the formica desktop.

You quickly turned on the camera, fine-tuned the settings, and took a picture. You knew that one hadn’t been right, so you got between his feet and snapped another. His eyes glittered in the incandescent light as they followed you. His hair fanned out around his head like a black nimbus. The curve of his torso was graceful and sinewy. He was an angel without wings.

You kept taking pictures, entranced by his look, by the way he relaxed for you. You stood over him on the bed and became aware that his cock was now hard against his abdomen. You asked him if he was okay.

“I wanna touch you,” he replied.

You realized you hadn’t really touched him this whole time. There had been a maneuvering of his shoulder for the shoot, or bumping into him as you moved furniture before that. But that wasn’t the same.

“How do you want to touch me?” you asked as you took another shot.

“Would it be wrong to say I wanna grab your hair and kiss you hard?”

You eased onto your knees to hover above him, snapping pictures as you did. “No.”

Kylo writhed against the bed and keened. The blush on his cheeks deepened.

You took another picture. “Tell me more.”

“I want—fuck—I want you to ride me.”

“Like this?” you asked and settled on his lap. The hot ridge of his cock nudged your underwear against your wet slit. You rolled your hips and took a picture as his mouth dropped open.

“Tits bouncing in my face.”

You gathered up your t-shirt to reveal your bra. There wouldn’t be much bouncing with it on, but you cupped a breast all the same.

With a moan, he reached for you. “Enough pictures.”

You inched back. “Just one more: touch yourself.”

He wrapped both hands around his erection with a groan. His look of surrender was perfection. You took one last picture of him with eyes closed and brow furrowed in pleasure before turning off the camera. You placed it on the floor and then put your hands on his forearms to stop him.

He paused. “Please.”

“You want me to…?” You nodded at his groin.

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “Lemme hold you.”

Your stomach swooped at that. While you knew he wanted to fuck you, and you him, he found being close to you just as important. You crawled to his left side as he lifted that arm. You lay against his side and smoothed a palm up his firm chest. His hand was in your hair, and he forced you down for a kiss.

You cupped his throat as you kissed him hard and then deep. He moaned into the kiss, arching into your touch. His tongue slid against yours. He tasted like watered-down toothpaste. His lips were plush and wet with your spit.

He broke the kiss with a groan deep in his chest. You could feel the muscles of his shoulder bunch as he pumped his cock. He stared in your eyes as his hand skated from your hair down your back to grip your ass. You gave him a little kiss before tucking your face under his chin. He cursed as you dragged your lips over his hammering pulse. His skin had the faintest tang of salt.

You turned his head by the jaw, and he whimpered. His chest undulated against you as his thighs spread. The hand on your back fisted your leggings.

“Gonna come,” he breathed. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” you whispered and moved up to suck on his earlobe.

He panted out unfinished words until he suddenly choked on a gasp. His whole body tensed. You snuck a look down his torso. His cock was red and so hard as he began to climax. White strings of come shot up his stomach. His hips surged to fuck his fist, and weaker gushes streamed out with every pump.

You directed your gaze to his blissful face as he caught his breath. As if feeling your scrutiny, he turned his head to look at you. That was the look you’d been going for earlier. There was such tenderness there. He was defenseless and open and still yearning. Such a look could split you open with its gentle power.

You smiled at him as your eyes started swimming with tears, and cradled his cheek. “So gorgeous.”

Kylo curled up to catch your lips against his. You yielded to him; to his lips, his teeth, his tongue. He shifted on the bed as he wiggled his right hand under your leggings.

You stiffened and pulled away. “Wha…?”

He shushed you, kissing you again. “Let me make you come.” His hand paused against your belly. “Can I?”

You snorted and decided to tease him—just a little. “I don’t know. Can you?”

“I shouldn’t now because of that stupid joke.” He pouted, but you could tell it was all for show.

“Aw, you mean you don’t want to touch my aching—” You rolled onto your back to hook your thumbs under the waistband of your leggings. “—wet—” You stretched the waistband down. “—pussy?”

Kylo’s hips rolled forward of their own accord. He stared at the newly revealed part of your torso and licked his lips.

It was quiet for a heart-stopping second before he ordered, “Get this shit off. All of it.”

A thrill went through you at his tone, and you wiggled out of your leggings and underwear, tossing them over his shoulder. He pulled you by the hip against him. His cooling come smeared between you. It should’ve been gross, but it wasn’t. It was evidence of his desire.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him with everything you had. He warmly hummed into the kiss as he went from gripping your hip to squeezing one cheek of your ass. He rocked you, and you could feel his cock twitch against your thigh. It made you wish he hadn’t just come. And that you had condoms.

You hadn’t thought to get any from the campus clinic.

Kylo urged your top leg over his hip and pushed his hand between your legs. The first touch to your dripping slit had you regretting a lack of condoms all the more. You told yourself you could get some later. First, you needed to take the edge off your lust for him.

“So wet,” Kylo softly praised. “Been wanting to touch you for weeks.”

“Weeks?”

He stroked two fingers over your clit. “Yeah, since, like, the second day of class.”

In truth, you’d noticed him the first day. That long, wavy hair. Those pretty brown eyes. That kissable mouth. You purposefully sat diagonal from him in class, tilted your head to elongate your neck, and even gave him a smile when your eyes met. During the second week of the semester, you introduced yourself before class started and asked his major.

“First day,” you said.

“Fuck, really?”

You nodded.

“Shit.” He kissed you and sucked on your bottom lip. “You’re so pretty.”

That suck had your eyes rolling back in their sockets and your lower body clenching on nothing. You mewled and rolled your hips. His fingers—thicker than yours, touching more with each stroke—slid just right over every sensitive centimeter of your pussy.

He eased those two wet fingers inside you, and groaned, “So hot.”

He then nestled his thumb right on your clit. He massaged it and curled his fingers against the front wall of your pussy. Your leg tightened on his hip as you moaned. He asked if you liked that, and you nodded.

He didn’t thrust his fingers in and out of you. You felt more caressed than finger-fucked. He kept the pressure on your clit and rubbed it in little circles.

You buried your face between the mattress and his neck to muffle your panting. His fingers felt so good. Better than you dreamed. You breathed in the scent of his skin and soap and detergent and sweat.

“Tell me what you need,” he said.

“Faster.”

The circling of his thumb sped up, as did the internal stroking, and you nodded as you bit back a groan. You clutched at his shoulder and pulled at him. You needed to anchor yourself because you felt you were going to fly apart or explode or some other catastrophic thing. Your thighs quivered, and you tried not to squirm.

Maybe you wanted those catastrophic things to happen.

His lips were gentle on your neck. The simple touch went straight down your body. You groaned as he ratcheted you closer and closer to climax.

“You gonna come?” he asked.

You nodded with a little mm-hm.

“Gush all over my fingers, baby.” He pressed a little harder on your clit. “Fuck, I want you to come so bad.”

And he got what he wished for. Between the two fingers moving inside you and the thumb rubbing on your clit, you came like a crash of thunder. You shook as orgasm rumbled through you. Each delicious roll of it made your body stiffen and jerk in his arms. He held you through it and didn’t stop until you were whimpering from the intensity of every touch.

He soothed you down. His thick fingers felt solid inside you. His thumb insulated your clit.

Kylo shushed you a second time, and you realized you’d been making noise the whole time. Your face heated anew. You whispered an apology, but he shushed that, too.

“Don’t worry about it. The walls’re pretty insulated.”

You hiccuped a laugh and relaxed on the bed. You felt loose and warm and happy. He smiled, hovering over you. He wet his bottom lip. So pink and flushed. You pulled at the nape of his neck to get him to kiss you. He groaned and did just that.

Mid-kiss, he slowly edged his fingers out of you. You whined at the loss, but loved when he hugged you. He held you tight and pushed a leg between yours, as if trying to get even closer to you. His cock was half-hard against your thigh.

You broke the kiss to say: “We need condoms.”

“There’s a bin in the kitchen with a bunch.”

You laughed, “What?”

“Ben’s idea.” He shrugged. “He mostly uses them.”

“Mostly?”

“I, uh—” He looked sheepish all of a sudden and glanced down. “I have a dildo.”

“Me, too,” you said, trying not to make a big deal of it. Because it wasn’t. “I hardly ever get to use it because of my roommate.”

But, Lord above, the thought of him working his prostate…

“Maybe you can bring yours over, and we can have a…” He blushed as he struggled for the word. He landed on: “A thing.”

You grinned, though you felt your cheeks heat. “A thing?”

“A mutual demonstration.”

You liked the sound of that. “After midterms?”

“Yeah,” he agreed and descended upon you to kiss you over and over and over.

-

“Anita Ekberg” by Mickey Pallas

“Les Berlingots” by Fernand Fonssagrives

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Worked shoot - A wrestler seemingly going “off script”, often revealing elements of out-of-universe reality, but actually doing so as a fully planned part of the show.

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