#and just slurp it down not realising that the bottom of the cup is probably still like 250ml worth of water

[fingertipsmp3]

I always love when something I have been dreading for weeks turns out not to be anything difficult at all. As always I will learn nothing from this experience

[uglypastels]

To the Beat // drummer!Tom 2/2

(a/n) and, as promised, here’s part 2! again big thanks to @duskholland and @captainpeggy40 <333 but a quick reminder, that i don’t often write smut, i don’t really know shit about writing smut so i actually had no business doing it... but i did it. so enjoy :) just, if its bad, don’t come for me

word count: 9117 words of filth tbh

warning: SMUT, i don’t even know what to specify. just.. 18+ okay but also, some fluff and humor cause i live by that

Please reblog if you liked it so more people can see it <3 and if you want to see more of this au, send an ask or dm <3

Read part 1 here <---> extra headcanons here

“It looks good on you,” he commented when you met at the door. 

“Thanks,” there was the heat up your cheeks again. “And thank you for everything else, I had a really great night.” you were about to take the hat off to give it back, but he stopped you.

“It doesn’t have to end here, darling.” He said softly. For a second, it felt like your heart had stopped altogether. How you hoped he would say that, and then he did. 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I live a block away. We can- I don’t really know what we can do, to be honest.” He admitted, making both of you laugh. 

“Your place sounds good,” and you stepped aside for him to lead the way. Tom opened the door but almost stopped when he saw it was raining. And it was raining hard. It had escalated from the moment you had looked out the window. Then you realised he didn’t have a jacket and was only wearing that tank top. 

“I would offer you my jacket,” you said, “but I don’t think you would fit it… and I don’t have one.” You came to realise like the genius you were.

“I guess we’ll have to run for it, then.” He held out his hand. You didn’t even hesitate and grabbed it. Clutching on to the shirt and CD, you ran alongside Tom, across the street and then following it to the next right. It wasn’t really a run, but definitely a trot. The rain poured down on you, quickly soaking through all your clothes. By the time you had reached the door of his apartment building, your hair was sticking to your face, and you both looked like drenched cats. Tom grabbed his keys and unlocked the door as quickly as possible, letting you go first. 

You leaned against the wall and let your breathing calm down. He did the same against the door. There was a second of silence before you started laughing. What was so funny? Neither of you knew. It just felt nice and like the right thing to do after running through the rain like idiots. Oh, so that’s what was so funny.

“Right, this way,” he pointed up the stairs. “I would suggest the elevator, but it hasn’t worked in like five years, I think.” 

“Stairs are fine,” you said, already walking up. 

“Wait until the fourth floor. Cause I’m not carrying you.” He joked, and you giggled, putting away the thought of him holding you in his arms and carrying you up the stairs into his home… and kissing you… throwing you onto the bed… FOCUS! 

“Woah!” you almost missed a step, but luckily Tom caught you just in time. 

“You okay there?” 

“Yeah, just a bit slippery,” you tried to excuse your clumsiness, hoping that the fact that you were soaked from top to bottom would help. It did. Still laughing at you though, Tom helped you up and from then on you walked side by side. All the way up to the sixth floor. As exhausted as you were, you tried to play it off cool. 

“Here we are.” He tapped on the door with his whole palm, and for a second you thought someone would open, but then he pulled out his keys again. A moment later you were walking into the flat. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but Tom quickly turned on the lights. It was a nice looking place—big living room with an attached kitchen. On one side there were two doors, which you assumed were his bedroom and bathroom. It was clean, but here and there some items were misplaced or left behind, making known that there was indeed a person living here. 

On the wall closest to the entrance, you noticed pictures hanging. Most were of Tom and his friends and family. One stood out to you. It was an adorable little dog, smiling at the camera. When you looked over to the living room again, you noticed a red dog bed next to the couch with a bunch of squeaky toys. 

“You have a dog?” you asked, already excited to see a puppy. 

“Yeah, she’s called Tessa, but she’s staying with my parents and other brothers for the weekend since I would be out of the house for most of the time.” 

“Ah yeah, that makes sense-” you had been looking around, not paying too much attention to Tom himself in all honesty. But then you had turned around and froze. There was Tom. Shirtless. He looked at you, slightly concerned and confused as to why you looked like that. You just had no idea what to respond with. There he was… six-pack and- and everything, in all its glory. His arms were still shining from the rain. Was this actually real? 

You hadn’t noticed it before, but without the shirt, you saw how he had been wearing a necklace. A thin silver chain with some sort of charm on it that from a distance looked like a coin. He had been in the middle of fixing it when you turned around. So, there was that flexed arm to add to the things that broke your mind momentarily. 

Tom stared at you, looked down at himself, then back at you. He was about to look behind himself, probably to check if there was something wrong, but then realised. 

“Oh..OH. Shit.”

You were still speechless. 

“See, I did not think this through. I was just gonna change my shirt.” He showed you the wet piece of cloth that was once his loose tank top. “Do you want something to wear? I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Now that you mentioned it, you were starting to shiver. 

Your throat dry, you tried to mutter out, “uhh, yes. Thank you.” He nodded, walked past you and disappeared into the room you suspected to be the bedroom. He was gone for a bit, but when he came back, he was already changed. You had to hide your disappointment that he had put on a shirt, but the grey sweatpants made up for it in a way. Fuck. 

“Here,” he handed you some clothes. “It’s probably not the best outfit, but it should keep you warm.” 

“Thank you.” you grabbed the clothes from him. “Can I change in there?” 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He got out of the way, but you only took a step before he repeated something. “Do you want anything to drink?” 

“Uhm, sure. Tea?” 

“Coming right up.” and he went off to the kitchen to set the kettle. You walked, uninterrupted, to the other room. It was, like assumed, the bedroom with not much there except for a closet and a large bed. It did look really comfortable though. And made up. You wished your bedroom looked this clean. 

You took off your wet clothes, which was quite the challenge since it all stuck to your skin and your jeans wouldn’t budge from their place. The clothes Tom had provided were some shorts that seemed like he used for training or whatever exercise he did and a sweater. You had wanted to wear your new Winter Solstice t-shirt but, of course, that had soaked through as well. So, you put on the sweater and knew immediately that that was the better choice. It was soft and warm. Plus, the idea of wearing his clothes was also touching to the heart. 

You walked out of the room as Tom was pouring the boiling water into two mugs. He looked over at you with a smile.

“How do you take it?” He was opening the fridge, ready to take out the milk. 

“Honey and lemon, but it’s fine if you don’t have that.” you quickly added. 

“Please, you’re talking to the tea expert here.” He took out a bottle of lemon juice, the same out you always buy you noticed, and a jar of honey from the cupboard. As he did that, you looked around some more in the room. The large leather couch was definitely the centre point of the room, with the large tv in front of it, accompanied by a PlayStation. There was a bookcase filled with… well, books, but also CD’s, records and different little things between them. You looked around, hoping to find a drum set somewhere, but there was none. Which made sense. You didn’t expect the neighbours to be too fond of drumming as a pastime hobby. 

“We practice at Harrison’s place. He soundproofed his place.” Tom explained, seeing how you were looking around cluelessly. He handed you your cup as you both sat down on the couch. Fearing for your tongue, you carefully took the first sip, but it was surprisingly pleasant. He must have poured in some cold water to cool it down, just the right amount too. As soon as the tea got into your system, you felt the warmth go through your entire body. It was absolutely fantastic.

Still, you had to admit, it was a strange situation. Never would you have imagined to go to a concert and then, later on, go out for a late-night meal with the drummer, and now to be drinking tea on his couch. 

“You don’t do this often, do you?” You quizzed. Tom looked up from his mug. 

“Do what?” 

“This. Take a girl out to eat, bring her home, undress in front of her… make her tea.” you elaborated on your question. 

“The tea making, yeah, that’s new.” He sipped his tea with a slurp. 

“Well, I’m glad to be the first then.” You knew he had meant it jokingly, so why not just go along with it? 

You drank your tea together in silence. It all had this strange domestic feeling that was very nice, but by far not what you thought would be doing with Tom that night. But eventually, the tea had been drunk. You were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. At one point you had put your legs on top of his. You could see that he was thinking about something. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked. He had been staring at the coffee table, mumbling the Flintstones theme song to himself and tapping his fingers along to the melody on your leg. You had clearly pulled him out of a trance. 

“Do you wanna dance?” 

“What?” 

“Sorry, I was just thinking, we can sit here the whole night until we fall asleep, or we can put on some music and dance. Just a suggestion.” He was full of surprises, this guy. 

“Yeah, sure.” You got up and pulled him by the hands to follow you. “Sounds fun. Pick a song” You thought he would just get out his phone and get a Bluetooth speaker, but boy were you wrong. He moved over to the bookcase with his music collection. You tried to look over his shoulder at what record he had picked, but he pulled it out of the sleeve quickly and put it under the needle of the record player. 

As the needle scratched between songs, he walked back to you. The music that he picked was slow, and it felt perfect for the moment as he took your hand in his and let the other softly touch your side. You weren’t the most excellent dancer but knew enough that you had to put your free arm on his shoulder. 

The two of you moved around the room slowly, to the beat of the song. You put your head on his chest and could hear his heart beating along, well a bit faster. You could see his necklace poking out from underneath his shirt, so you let go of his shoulder to pull it out. 

“It’s nice,” you smiled, a bit dazed, playing with the charm between your fingers. You could hear him chuckle a thank you. 

The song was new to you. It was a simple melody, the singing was soft and intimate. As you spun around in Tom’s arms, it felt like the words were speaking to you directly. What was it again? You couldn’t remember exactly. Feeling him so close next to you, everything else was just a blur. Just like when he sang- 

“Wait, is this you?” you looked up at him. He just smiled. 

“Oh my god, it is!” Way to ruin the moment, but the song had already ended, and it was the only one on that side of the small record. “You guys have records?”

“We got ourselves an EP copy each,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. “I hoped you would like it.” 

“I- I do.” 

You looked into his eyes, trying- hoping- to see what he was thinking. They were flickering golden brown in the soft and warm light of the room. Then you saw it. That one sign you were looking for. It was just a fracture of a second. If you had blinked, you were sure you would have missed it. But you did see it. You saw how his eyes quivered down to your lips and back up to meet your eyes again. 

He held your hand in his, the other was on your waist. He pulled you in closer—your chest against his. You could feel how shaky his breath was against your cheek. You lost your battle with self-control as you dared to glance down at his lips. They looked so soft. So inviting. 

And you took that invitation gladly. Pressing your lips against his. He stumbled back a step, not expecting the push. He let go of your hand so he could hold you firmly against his chest. In the meantime, your hands wandered off to his hair. It was still wet from the rain, making it easier for you to comb through it. The kiss itself intensified with each lasting second. 

A sound escaped you as he grabbed onto your leg, just to drag you off to the couch. He sat, giving you easy access to sit on his lap. You sat down with great pleasure. 

If the air wasn’t such a necessity in life, it would have been likely you would have never pulled away, but alas. You parted your lips just enough to stop your lungs from burning. Tom took that moment to brush off a strand of hair behind your ear. A classic little move but you fell for it immediately. The feeling of his fingers against your skin. It felt sinful. It was only your cheek. Just thinking about his touch all over your body gave you that rush to kiss him again. 

As he kept on holding your waist with one hand, the other made its way to your thigh, squeezing it gently. That little gesture made you jump up. Unplanned, was the friction between your and his hips. You couldn’t hear it, but you felt him hold back the moan. 

“Fuck, don’t hold it in,” as frustrating it was to pull away, it had to be said. “Please,” you panted. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time he went lower down to your jawline. You held on to the back of his head and shoulder for support as he kissed and nipped at your skin, moving down to your neck. 

Your body was starting to feel hotter and hotter. The once so comfortable sweater was just an inconvenient restriction at this point. And Tom felt that too. To your disappointment, his hands left your body to tug at the hem of the sweater. Before taking it off, however, he looked you in the eyes. 

“You sure about this?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. 

“But, if you ever wanna stop, just tell me, okay?” 

“Yes.” How he managed to form full sentences, that was a mystery. You put your arms up, letting Tom take off the sweater. He threw it over the edge of the couch. Not a second later, your lips were together once again. Even though it only had been a minute, two max, it felt like an eternity that you had to get through to touch him again. 

His fingers moved slowly over your body. Every inch he moved, followed with a burning sensation as if he was on fire. Burning you gradually, in the best way possible. One thing just felt off. So, you tugged at his shirt. 

“I’m not doing all the work, babe,” he said with a grin. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but it wasn’t as if you really minded undressing him. You grabbed the shirt and slowly pulled it up to his chest. One by one, his muscles showed themselves, and you had to control the urges that started building up in the pit of your stomach. You pulled the shirt. Tom already had his arms up, ready to get the fabric off. If only he knew about your plan that started forming in your head.

The hem of the shirt just touched his lip when you put it in his mouth. He was about to spit it out, but you stopped him. 

“Just wait, okay.” He kissed his cheek sweetly, making him roll his eyes at you. As slowly as possible, you slid off his lap. He wanted to make a grab at your hips, but you pushed his hands off… with difficulty, cause fuck, if it didn’t feel right to have him touch you. 

The only way to let him leave you alone was intertwining your fingers, and letting your hands fall to his sides. He saw how you planted your feet on the ground so to make it easier for the both of you he spread his legs. It was a golden sight. With a big smile on your face, you leaned in, kissing his chest. It immediately received the reaction you hoped for. With the fabric in his mouth, Tom groaned softly, but still very audibly in the quiet room. When you looked up, you saw him tugging at the shirt as he tried to pull his head up, tensing his jaw. He could have just spit it out if he really wanted it gone… but he didn’t. 

Thought it safe, you let go of his hands. They stayed in place next to his thighs. You moved closer to him to continue the feather-light kisses along his smooth skin. With each touch, his chest heaved in deep and heavy inhaled. You kept going. Kiss after kiss, moving lower and lower. You couldn’t help it but lick down that line of his abs, across that gorgeous tummy of his. And it was good too, rewarded with a beautiful growl from Tom. You could have said it was the best thing you had heard that night, but you had listened to a lot of good things that night… and who knew what was still to come. 

You left one last kiss below his belly button, exactly to meet the elastic band of his underwear. A part of you wanted to snap it, but that felt a bit too cruel considering you almost made him swallow his shirt. You looked up again. It was a magnificent sight, Tom holding that hemline in his mouth, gritting his teeth as his chest moved up and down, needing and hoping for a release. He looked down at you too, and his eyes were black with lust. You could see him clenching his fists. 

That was a sign of continuing. Unlike before, you quickly started to unbutton his trousers. You were too focused on your little task to look at Tom, but you saw him roll his head on the backrest of the couch. You unzipped the pants and pulled them down with a few tugs. 

You almost felt bad seeing how hard he got in those few moments. Almost. Just a little bit more teasing wouldn’t hurt, right? Tom had other ideas. He pulled out the shirt from his mouth, tugged it off in one swift move, and threw it behind him. He glared down at you. “I swear if you don’t suck me off right now-”

“Or what?” you challenged him. This clearly took him aback, but only for a second. Then, this twinkle in his eye appeared, telling you that there was not a saint thought in his mind at that moment. He leaned over, only an inch away from your face. His words were like a high, each one giving you precisely the right rush of adrenaline you needed. 

“Suck my cock, Princess, or I’ll just have to fuck that pretty mouth myself.” 

And you were gonna let him, but a more significant part of you didn’t want to give up that easily. So, for now, you let out a soft whimper and nodded. Tom kissed you softly on the lips before sitting back up straight. He looked like a king on a fucking throne, with that proud and smug grin. It was giving you the greatest pleasure to ruin that little moment of his. 

You palmed him through his boxers, moving your hand up and down, then leaned in yourself to kiss it, still through the fabric. Tom hissed out a moan, and right then, you knew you were golden. One more little kiss and you reached out for the border of his underwear. You were about to pull it down- 

And then you got up. 

“What the fuck-”

“I’m gonna get some water, I think.” And just like that you hopped over to the little kitchen and grabbed yourself a glass. As you were pouring yourself the water, you could hear him shuffling his feet out of his trousers. You could hear him walk up behind you. As you were about to touch the brim of the glass against your lips, you felt him push against your back. His hard-on was more than evident. He moved his fingers into your hips as he whispered into your ear, making your body shake from anticipation. 

“So, you wanna play games, huh?” His tone was nothing but filthy. “You could have just said so, I mean I got Monopoly somewhere in the closet.” His left hand drifted off, moving up your side. You were still holding that damn glass of water, body frozen. 

“Or I could turn on the PlayStation, whatever you want darling.” He kissed you just below the ear. His hand was sliding across the valley between your breast, tracing up to your neck. 

“Hmm, tell me, what do you want?” 

“I- I-” you couldn’t think straight. With him talking like that and his soft touch, it was too much. 

“Speak up, baby.” 

“I want...Aah!! What the fuck!” Suddenly his touch was gone, and you felt something ice-cold cover your torso. You had still been holding up that glass of water, and when Tom got close enough, he tipped it over with his finger, letting all the cold content spill out on you. Goosebumps formed all over your body, and you shrieked out in pure shock. 

“Oops,” he giggled and pecked you on the cheek. Before you could say another word, he was walking away, in the direction of his bedroom. Not looking around, he held up his hand. 

“Counting to four and then you better be here, without those ugly shorts.” 

“They’re yours,” you said as he opened the door, still shivering from the cold water. He opened the door and was gonna close it but then quickly said-

“So? I have horrible taste. Take ‘em off, darling,” and he closed it. You could hear him count from the other side. 

ONE

You quickly pushed off the, indeed, not great looking shorts. 

TWO

You started walking up to the bedroom. The butterflies in your stomach had left the cage and were going crazy. 

THREE

Almost at the door. 

FOUR

You opened it. There stood Tom. He didn’t even hide the way he was checking you out. In only a bra and panties, there was little you could hide behind, but you tried to fight the insecurities. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He said before striding your way. Grabbing on to you, he kissed you passionately. You felt his hand in your hair, so you mimicked it. For the rest, you had no idea what was going on since you had closed your eyes. You let all the other senses speak for themself—his soft but harsh touch; the way you could still smell the rain on him—the sweet taste of honey and tea on his lips. You could hear the little grunts and whimpers escape the both of you as he slammed you against the door with a thud. 

Then he grabbed your leg, signally for you to jump. You did without hesitation. Arms around his neck, fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck. You kissed him feverishly. The fact that he was holding you up with only one hand hadn’t even caught up to you. The hand that was leaning against the door next to your face was not even registered by your addled brain yet. 

Feeling the need for air again, you pulled away. Your foreheads were leaning against each other as you both inhaled deeply. 

“What happened to fucking my mouth, Tommy?” You quipped. Tom was staring down, looking at how your chest heaved deeply with every breath. 

“Would take too long,” he said, now looking up into your eyes. “I thought it would be better to just straight up start with your sweet little cunt.” He growled into your ear. Before you could say anything in response, he kissed you again. 

His words were still spinning around in your head as he pushed the two of you away from the wall and carried you across the room to the bed. You could feel his erection against you, hard as a fucking rock. Why did you pull away from him on the couch? 

He put his knee on the mattress before letting you drop. It made you think back to just a few hours ago, how you had fallen down on to your own bed, contemplating whether or not to go to some dumb concert… now look at you. 

Your head touched the soft bedding, but your legs were still around Tom’s middle. He grabbed your legs and spread them just the right way so he could lean closer to you. 

“You look so fucking hot, right now.” He groaned as his teeth grazed your neck, making you arch your back. He pinned you back down on the bed. 

“Seeing you in that crowd, you know how hard it was for me to concentrate?” At this point, he had your arms above your head, holding them tightly. He kissed your jawline and moved up to your ear, tugging at your earlobe just that little bit, enough to make you quiver. You didn’t realise he actually wanted an answer until you felt the harsh sting of him slapping your thigh. Just enough to send that spark up to where you needed him the most. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, “No, Tommy, I didn’t.” 

“Hmm, thought so. But I saw you staring at me. Checking me out, huh? I had to really control myself to not just grab you and fuck you out there, right on my drumset.” His free hand, the one that wasn’t holding back your arms, was getting closer to your pussy. Your entire body was pulsing and shaking, needing for him to do something. Anything. 

“Just imagine that, Princess,” he was whispering into your ear again, “you bouncing on my dick, in front of all of those people.” 

“Fuuck,” you had never been much into exhibitionism, but hearing him speak like that, everything sounded good. 

Suddenly you felt his fingers move over your underwear. It was just for a moment, him passing through from one thigh to the other, but it was enough to have you moan out his name in need. 

“Tsk, behave, darling,” he kissed your forehead. So sweetly, it almost seemed as if he wasn’t about to fuck the complete hell out of you. “You’re gonna behave for me, right?” 

“Yes. Just please- please do something.” You pleaded, which gave great pleasure to Tom. 

“Good to know we got that little attitude from earlier sorted out, huh? I really didn’t want to punish you.” He didn’t? So what the hell was this torture? Of course, it all felt amazing, but if he would cross his fingers one more time next to your clit, you might actually explode. 

“Now, I think I’m going to finger your little pussy, okay Princess,” He asked with that sweet tone. You could feel his fingertips move across the fabric of your panties. “Yeah, I think you’d like that huh, look how fucking soaked you are.” With his thumb he pressed over your clit, moving down through the slit. You moaned out, finally feeling some kind of relief from him. 

He kissed your neck as he finally moved your underwear to the side. 

“You’re so pretty and needy, you know that?” he said, smiling. You nodded your head, biting your lip in anticipation of what he was gonna do next. You had your eyes closed and opened them for a moment. Tom was right above you. He sent you an air kiss for extra measure. You tried to focus on his eyes instead of the sensation you felt every time one of his fingers was getting closer to push into you. Still, whimpers escaped you. Which he enjoyed immensely. 

Then he finally did it. Two fingers, deep inside, stretching your walls. You moaned out in pure relief, ecstatic to finally feel something inside you. Tom let you adjust for a second until he started to move slowly in and out, making momentum. Not that he forgot about your clit. Oh no, he rubbed it until you were seeing stars in front of you, 

“I’m going to let go of you, alright?” You were ready to nod at his question, but he added more on to it. “But since you do like playing games so much-” here it comes, you knew it, “let’s make it a bit of a game. I’ll let go of you, and then you got, let’s say, three seconds to pick a new place for them. And then you better stick with it too, cause I don’t want to see you move until you come, understood?” 

“Yes, Tommy.” you gasped more so than said. 

“Good.” He kissed you but quickly started to move down. You knew what was going to happen, you had been waiting for it. But he was still holding on to you. Right as his mouth had passed your stomach, he let go of your wrists. Without thinking about it, you planted your fingers in his hair. 

“Hmm, good choice, darling.” He mumbled against the skin of your hip. You brushed your fingers through his hair, not sure what else to do while waiting for him to- 

Then, he pushed your panties aside completely. You felt his tongue, and it made you roll your eyes to the back of your head. He held on to your leg with one arm, the fingers of the other were still moving in and out of you. You held on to his hair, holding on for dear life. For a second that thought of possibly hurting him flashed through your mind, but then that melodic groan went through him, and the vibrations of his voice passed through your body like an electric shock. 

He kept moving his tongue in a way that made you sure he was trying to spell something out, possibly his own name, but you simply couldn’t make anything of it. You could barely concentrate on your own breathing, let alone words. 

Tom pulled you closer to him, deeper, making you moan like you never had before. Now, you had your fair share of experience, but he was… extraordinary. He took his time, made sure to give every minuscule part of you the attention it needed. Almost as if he wanted to hit every single nerve and cell individually. You weren’t even sure if he did it for your pleasure or because of his own. 

Did it matter? 

From the way how you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, clearly not. 

“To-tom.” you gasped out. You were close. So close. But he didn’t need your words to know that. But it wasn’t enough for him. So, instead of going deeper, harder, faster, he sucked at your clit one last time before licking his way over to your thigh. You could have screamed in agony. 

“Tom!” you did. 

You wanted to let go of him and get up. Pull him up to you, maybe get on top even. But you remembered his words. I don’t want to see you move until you come. As much as you wanted to know what would happen if you broke that little rule, you also wanted to listen.

And so, you let out your frustration through digging your nails into his hair, but it had the exact opposite effect on Tom that you hoped for. Any time you would pull, even the tiniest bit, he would grab your thigh even harder, pulling himself to you. And he just kept on toying with you. Playing with your clit until that familiar knot was tying itself up in you, only to pull away and suck another perfect little hickey on your thighs. You had lost count how many times he had already marked you. On top of that, every time his lips would pull away, so would his fingers. Pull out just enough, only leaving his fingertips in you, to get you on that next edge of frustration, to make you beg for more.

“Tom, pleeease,” you begged. Tears were already forming in your eyes. It didn’t help that he would take that stupid necklace of his and put it against your burning skin. The cold metal of the charm always managed to come up against a new mark that Tom had left behind. 

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he said, kissing your sensitive skin between the words. You had to take all the power left in you to form the semi-coherent sentence. 

“I want- want to come. Please, Tom.” Your head was spinning, body flushed and hot, sweat and tears mixing at your temples. 

“You only had to say so.” His voice was the opposite of yours, composed and relaxed. You felt his smirk against you as he left one last kiss on you. The finally- 

The easiest way to describe it was that he had gone wild. Animalistic. He devoured you as if he was a starving man, and you the last meal on earth. Then there were his fingers, moving at a rapid pace, but still so steady. You could feel it nearing. So fucking close. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Your legs were shaking, and all your other muscles were practically rigid from how tense you were. You needed to let go now. Feel that release at last. 

At last, yes. With a scream, you felt it all relax. Your body came undone in a wave of pleasure. You were melting into the bed, Tom being the only thing keeping you somewhat conscious of your surroundings. 

You tried to concentrate on the feeling of his lips, licking one final line over your clit. It shook you to your core. You whimpered, not being able to take much more. Your body went limp, you let go of his hair. 

“Shhh,” he was moving up. Kissing your body, snaking his way back up to look into your eyes. The cold touch of the necklace followed behind. You opened your eyes, but everything was blurry. After blinking a few times, you could finally see him, drenched in your juices, with the biggest grin on his face. 

He parted his lips just the tiniest bit, and you followed him blindly. You felt his fingers on your lips and without thinking, put them in your mouth. The taste of yourself, together with the feeling of his fingers tasted like the best damn thing ever. 

“That’s right,” he kissed your tear-stained cheek, “you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded, closing your eyes. It was all too much, you had to cut off one of your senses before it was too late.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you looked right now. So fucked out- and I haven’t even had my good fun with you yet.” 

You wanted to protest, but it was too difficult to speak. Besides, your fingers felt too good in your mouth to let them go for some pathetic little words. It wasn’t worth it. 

But like all good things in life, it had to end. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Having no control left over your body, you let a whine escape you at the loss of touch. 

“Christ, you’re needy,” he said before kissing you deeply, but shortly before he finished his statement. “I love it.” His hands were roaming your body. He held up your leg just so he could get in the position to squeeze your ass. 

“Hold on to me, baby,” he murmured between another kiss. You did your best, still feeling no energy in your limbs. You crossed your arms behind his neck, feeding on the kiss for the strength to move. He held you as he pulled the both of you up to sit on the bed. And he kept holding on to you when he thrust his right hand to your back, to the strap of your bra. He moved his fingers around, looking for the clasp. Even in your dazed state, it made you laugh a little. 

“It’s upfront,” you mumbled, kissing the corner of his mouth. He moved away to look at you, confused. You pointed down at the front of your bra. 

“So you’re telling me,” he flicked it open, letting your breast basically spill out in front of him, “I could have had this view this whole time? Fuck!” He pulled the straps down your shoulders to take it off.

“Sorry?” you said, not sure if you really needed to apologise. 

“No, don’t be.” He threw the bra to the floor. Almost on the spot where you had changed. It really wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like it. Had you thought of this happening when you put on his sweater? Maybe? In a sense. It was an option. But nothing would have prepared you for this. 

How could you have even thought about sitting on his lap, your legs around his waist, your arms on his shoulders, as he held you? Because of this, this wasn’t just some simple fuck. You hoped it wasn’t, at least. The way you held each other and how there was nothing but the passion between you- or was it possible that it didn’t mean that much to him? 

Still, that orgasm he gave you was the best you have had in a long time. So if it was only for the night, then let it be. You could still get a good time out of it, and you would not let your mind ruin this. 

Luckily for you too, Tom’s kisses made you shut off your thoughts reasonably quickly. It wouldn’t even matter if the world had been ending. 

But kissing could only get you so far. And he clearly had the same thought. Panting, his hot breath hitting your neck, he asked you. 

“Are you ready for this, babe?” You nodded. “I need to hear it, please.”

“Yes. Just fuck me already.” 

“Perfect.” with a peck on the cheek, he let go of you and let you slip off his lap. He got off the bed. You sat on your knees, hands next to your legs, looking at him in anticipation. It was insane how he had managed to eat you out while his cock was rock hard. You could see the outline of it through his underwear, leaving nothing, but really nothing, to the imagination. 

You watched him do a little jiggle, making you laugh, before taking the band off his boxer shorts and pulling it down. To say your mouth started to water, would sound ridiculous, but you weren’t so far from that state. He wasn’t too long, or too thick, you didn’t expect it to be anyway, but it looked just right to send you over into another dimension. There was that one vein going along his shaft that you couldn’t get enough of. Unconsciously, you were moving over to the edge of the bed. Just seeing him completely naked in front of you, send your mind into a frenzy. It was a magnificent view. 

What couldn’t go unnoticed was how red the tip had gone, from pure arousal and frustration that he needed to relieve. How badly you wanted to help him. You moved closer to the bed end, he took a step closer to you. He had his hand on his cock but didn’t move a muscle. If he did, you thought, he might have exploded right there in the spot. And what would be the fun in that? 

“Fuck,” he groaned, standing in front of you. “You look so fucking perfect on your knees.” 

You didn’t say anything, just smiled. The energy was coming back into your body, slowly, and you could feel getting that independence back that Tom had so rudely taken away from you. So, without saying anything, you took him in your hand and started to move up and down, not breaking eye contact, well, until Tom’s head rolled back. You couldn’t blame him. 

You kept on stroking him, steadily, leaving kisses every few seconds on his tip. The pre-cum started leaking almost instantaneously, which you gladly used to spread all over his tip, making it much easier to move your hand around. Your kisses in the meantime got sloppier each time, longer. Until you were basically just kitten licking that vein that was taunting you before. 

The sounds that were coming from Tom were adding to the whole experience in the best way. His moans and grunts were sending you to the edge, so far that you couldn’t help but let your free hand wander down and rub your clit. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Tom. 

“Even when sucking my dick, you need more, huh?” He asked as he looked down, right when you had finally put the tip in your mouth, twirling your tongue around it. The fact that you tried to look up into his eyes all innocent like should have sent him flying from laughter, but instead, he put his hand on your head and softly started to stroke your hair. 

“Thought so,” he grunted. His hand stayed in your hair as you let your jaw slack and you made your way down his shaft, all the way till you could feel him touch the back of your throat. His grip got tighter, he didn’t move anything, but you just felt him grab your hair in his fist. Just enough to tell you to move without hurting you. He would have probably said it in words, but when you looked up, you saw how twisted his face was in pure delight. 

You started to move in a paced way, but eventually, it felt too slow for Tom. That hand in your hair came to final use as he began to guide your movement. Letting you practically choke on him every time he moved up with the tempo. You felt the tears coming again as the drool fell from your mouth. You were an absolute mess, but it didn’t bother you one bit. 

He kept going, fucking your mouth just like he had promised on the couch earlier. 

“You know,” he said between pants, “As much as I’d love to cum in your mouth-” he hissed in pleasure when he hit the back of your throat again. “I swear the things you do to me, darling.” 

He let go of you and pulled out. You gasped for air, finally having a free passage of air to come through to your lungs. Tom wiped some of the drool from your mouth before leaning in to kiss you. He closed you in by placing his arm next to you and slowly let you fall on your back again. 

“Jesus,” he panted after the kiss. He looked at your mouth before gazing into your eyes again. You couldn’t imagine that it looked great, with your makeup completely smudged, but he smiled. “Would it be crazy to say that I love you right now?” 

“I’ve heard crazier,” you said back, also out of breath. 

“Oh yeah?” 

You just shrugged. He let out an airy laugh that you could feel against your face. You closed your eyes, just for a second, to enjoy the moment. This small speck of time in the universe, where it was only you and him, where nothing else mattered. Just two strangers having a great time. Would there be more after this? Who was to say? It didn’t matter. Not to you, at least. 

The little moment was ruined when you heard him curse. Suddenly the weight of the bed shifted, as he moved from hovering on top of you. You opened your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He was already on the side of the bed, leaning out to reach the drawer of the bedside table. 

“Condom,” he muttered out, still trying to reach it. Not that he could just move up a bit and slide the thing open with ease. He liked feeling you underneath him. And you did too. 

Finally, he managed to open the drawer and had to move up a bit to reach into it. You could hear his patting on the wood, but there was no sound of packaging. 

“Fuck, wait a second.” He got up with a small jump and ran off, leaving you basically naked and alone on the bed. You sat and finally took off your panties. It was no surprise that they were completely soaked. You threw them on the ground next to your bra. 

The drawer was still open, and you bit your lip at the thought of looking inside it. You could tell a lot by a person’s bedside table. And it was already open… just a peek wouldn’t hurt? Right? 

You moved closer to the table and leaned in to look. There was not much inside-just a charger, a book (but it was too dark in the room to read the small print of the title), a glasses case and a small notebook and pen. On the notebook, you saw scratched “WS”. Winter Solstice? Was it possibly lyrics? You didn’t go as far as going into that. 

As you had been looking, you could hear him rummaging through stuff in the room next door, the bathroom. 

Having seen everything there was to see in the drawer, you decided to just lie down on the bed, looking for a comfortable position, but also something that Tom would enjoy seeing when he walked into the room. Right then, the door opened, and Tom walked in. His one hand over his crotch and the other holding a box of condoms. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t find them at first, turned out they were- fuck.” He was looking at the box and hadn’t seen you lying there immediately. When he finally did, he almost dropped the condoms, only catching them with his other hand at the last second.

“You think you can get on your knees for me, darling?”

“I can try,” you shrugged, already turning around. You could hear him curse to himself as he saw you sit there. Then the ripping off the wrapper. He was taking his time for sure, which you didn’t really mind. You just weren’t really sure if your arms would be able to hold yourself up. You could already feel them shaking. 

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I, love?” You felt his cold hand on your ass, squeezing and kneading gently. 

“Yeah, I guess so-Ah,” you moaned as he slapped the spot he had been so gentle with just a second before. At that touch, your left arm gave in, and you lost balance, falling with your face into the blanket. The nicely made up bed now only smelled of sweat and sex and you really weren’t mad at it. 

“Fuck, c’mere,” he groaned, pulling you in by your waist, so your back was against his chest. You yelped out at the sudden movement and looked over your shoulder to look at his face. He was looking down at your chest. Hard nipples begging for attention from his hands and then they finally got it. As he kissed your shoulder, he started to play carefully pull at them, making sure your reaction was nothing but good. He got what he looked for when your hand reached out for his while you moaned. 

Then there was that cock of his, between your legs at this point, teasing you. Tom let go of your chest, allowing you to replace it with your own hand. You tried to ignore the tickling sensation as his fingers danced over your naked body, moving down to your legs. He grabbed his shaft and, for worst or best, slapped your pussy with it. 

“Tommm,” you whined, just needing to feel him inside you. 

“Alright, sorry. I just couldn’t help myself.” He kissed your neck as he finally slid into you. Those two feelings together made you roll your eyes so far back you thought you had gone blind for a moment. He spread your walls and filled you up perfectly, like the strangest fucking puzzle. You reached up to grab his hair again. There was just something about it, how it was so messy and you were the cause of it, that turned you on. And by the way, he smiled as you tugged at it, you could tell he loved it as well.

Tom kept on pounding into you at this perfect rhythm, to no surprise. You wouldn’t have expected anything less from a drummer. He was rough, deep, hitting every spot he needed to at just the right time.  And with every thrust, you felt yourself getting closer. Already so sensitive from the previous orgasm and the way he had utterly destroyed your mouth, there was really not much you needed to get there again. 

But it didn’t mean that he put in any less effort. Tom took each and every thrust with the precision you deserved. He kissed every inch of your skin available to his lips. 

It didn’t take long for you to come undone again. The moans coming from your mouth were all he needed to get there too. The way he groaned into your ear as he came could have sent you going for another round, but your legs were shaking like crazy. If it wasn’t for the way he held you, you would have most definitely fallen. 

His hand fell to your stomach, holding you tightly. Out of reflex, you reached out for it, intertwining your fingers. He pulled out of you. The sudden emptiness in you was the final straw for your legs to give up, your knees spread, making you slide down past Tom’s body a little. Heavy breathing from both of you filled the room—his chest against your back. Your heart beats mixing together into one. 

He held you close to him until you could somewhat control your breathing. He sat down and carefully put you down so you could lay down on the bed. You watched as he took off the condom and threw it into the small bin in the corner of the room. He grabbed his underwear and put it on quickly. 

“Let’s get you something to wear, shall we,” he smiled at the sight of you lying in his bed, exhausted, naked, with the most sheepish smile on your face. You nodded, expecting him to grab the sweater from the living room, but instead, he opened the closet and took a shirt that was folded on the top shelf. He sat down on the bed and helped you sit up as you got the shirt over your head. 

You noticed it was another Winter Solstice shirt, but it had a different design on it. It didn’t have that scratchy writing on it. Instead, the letters flowed smoothly into each other in an intricate cursive pattern. Underneath it, there was a sketch of a crescent moon. 

“It’s a design we think about using if we do any other shows,” he explained before you could ask. “The other one was cheaper so we could get more.” 

“I do hope you’ll play more shows,” you admitted as you lay down on the pillow. You thought he would join you, but instead, he got up. Clearly, he saw the panic in your face because he quickly explained: “I’m just gonna get you some water.” 

“No, stay,” it came out a bit more whiny than you intended it to, “I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow but still sat down next to you. You patted the other pillow motioning for him to join you in the horizontal position, which he eventually did with pleasure. You scooted over to be closer. By doing so, though, the shirt moved up, only just covering your breast. 

Tom put his hand on your side, tapping mindlessly, you focused on it, trying to figure out a pattern, but nothing came to mind. You put your arm under your head for some more support, and you looked at him while his eyes were on your body. He seemed to be deep in thought again, just like back on the couch before you started dancing. His tapping transformed into his fingers moving around over your skin in small shapes. 

“You know,” he said, still drawing little pictures on your side, “I’d really hate for this to just be a one-night thing.” He looked up into your eyes. 

“As long as you make me some more tea again, we’re good.” you leaned in to kiss him through each other's soft laughs. Of course, it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You didn’t want it to be. You were completely hooked on him. Ever since you had seen him sitting at that bar. To think it was only a few hours ago.

The END

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed > please reblog and leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them >masterlist and link to taglist in bio

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[commander-diomika]

Pairing: Grizzop drik Acht Amsterdam/Oscar Wilde

Word Count: 1700

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Pet Play, Under-negotiated Kink, Collars, Gags, Xenophilia, Mushblins, Choking, It/It's pronouns, Verbal Humiliation, Kinktober 2021

Prompt: Pet play / Body Worship / Bukkake

Summary: "There is no mode of action, no form of emotion, that we do not share with the lower animals. It is only by language that we rise above them." Oscar Wilde

The main reason Grizzop was so furious when Wilde called him an "it" was that he hated how it turned him on.

“Of course, you’ve just got this shit lying around in your office, you perv.”

Wilde finished fastening the collar and lead around Grizzop’s neck. He took Grizzop’s face in one hand and leant forward, faces close. Despite the width of Grizzop’s mouth, Wilde’s hands were big enough to grip his cheeks in fingers and thumb.

“Pets don’t talk.” Wilde said flatly.

But they do bite, Grizzop thought and lunged to chomp down on the hand wrapping over his face. His teeth snapped together on empty air. Curst, but Wilde was faster than he’d anticipated.

“No no, none of that either,” Wilde said, and from the same drawer that contained lead and collar, he drew another leather strap. “I don’t have any gags big enough for your filthy mouth but, this will do fine.” He jammed the collar into Grizzop’s mouth, pulling it and cinching it tight. It drew Grizzop’s lips back in a broad snarl but left him unable to close his teeth together. His tongue moved around the leather, tasting it and feeling a little drool leak from one side of his mouth.

“Maybe I liked it. When you called me “it.”” Grizzop stood tall and proud on the other side of Wilde’s desk, but his cheeks were stained with a nice kelp-green blush. “Maybe I want you to do it again, but naked this time.”

“You like being called an “it,” a creature?” Wilde stood thoughtfully. “I think perhaps you should be the naked one, then.” He came around the other side of the desk and locked the door. “Take your clothes off, then. Animals don’t wear clothes.”

Wilde shoved a firm hand between Grizzop’s shoulder blades. Grizzop probably could have resisted. He was certainly stronger than this fop, but then again, he’d asked for this, hadn’t he? Asked to be pushed around by a bard in a fancy suit who saw him as nothing more than a beast, and what exactly did that say about him?

He let his knees hit the floor, resigned. He gave a surprised yelp as a yank on the lead sent him down to all fours. He’d forgotten the collar was attached to a lead, firmly wound around Wilde’s hand.

“That’s a much better look for you, pet.” Grizzop growled at the rush of wet between his legs at the word.

Wilde walked a slow circle around the kneeling goblin. Grizzop couldn’t help but eye his soft leather shoes with scorn, low ankle boots that looked like they’d never touched a forest floor or felt the stain of mud on their thin soles. He lifted his head to watch Wilde’s curious, observing path around him. Suddenly there was an uncalloused hand on one ear, pulling his head back down.

“Eyes down, pet, whilst I examine you, or I’ll put blinkers on you as well as the gag.” Wilde said in a soft and sly voice.

As Grizzop leant his head down a small stream of drool fell from his open mouth onto the wood floor. Wilde’s shoe appeared in his eyeline, smearing the saliva along the floor. He gave a small, disgusted sounding humph as he did so.

“Who knew that all it would take to reduce you to a drooling mess was just to treat you like this.”

After tying the lead off onto a leg of his solid desk, Wilde returned and ran both hands experimentally down Grizzop’s flanks. Standing behind, he put a foot between Grizzop’s thighs and kicked them apart. Grizzop felt another flush at his rear being exposed. He could already feel his slit, open and wet, several tendrils peeking outwards of their own volition. He felt like a show animal, being inspected, weighed, found wanting by Wilde’s dispassionate gaze on him.

When Wilde’s hand cupped his sex, Grizzop felt a pathetic mewl rising in this throat. He quickly clenched his teeth around the strap to cut off the sound.

“My my, do goblins go into heat? Get desperate to be fucked and had? Is that what this is?” Several long fingers dipped inside him, feeling the slick there.

Wilde brought his mouth closer to Grizzop’s ear, leaning his body over Grizzop’s kneeling form. Grizzop could feel the warmth over him. “Or do you just like being treated like the animal that you are?” He accented this point with a slow thrust of fingers. Grizzop felt his tendrils winding around Wilde’s hand, welcoming him in like a friendly, traitorous cat. “You look good like this, pet. I see now why you reacted the way you did to my calling you an “it.” Excited you, didn’t it? And sex and violence are inextricable for a thing like you. Just an animal.”

Grizzop didn’t even try to bite back his mewl as Wilde withdrew the hand.

“Well, I have to see that my pet is good working order. Test its limits, of course.”

Wilde walked back to the desk, opening another drawer, and Grizzop felt his head spin. What was he doing here? He wasn’t even properly restrained. He could take his hands off the floor and undo the collars around his neck and mouth. Easily. He could just stand, pick up his clothes, and walk out right now.

He tried to slurp the saliva back into his mouth and failed, another few drops joining the growing pool between his hands, which were apparently glued to the floor. His claws gripped, scratching little marks into the polished floorboards.

Wilde came back, taking a position behind Grizzop. A hand wrapped around one long ear, drawing it out, stroking, pressing, exploring. In another scenario it could have felt tender. Here it just felt… curious. The other ear received the same treatment. He couldn’t help but sigh as Wilde gathered both ears in one hand and pulled his head back, not rough but firm. As Grizzop lifted his head, he felt his back arch naturally.

Grizzop gasped when he felt the touch of something at his entrance. Something big. The toy was cool and already slicked with something, and he felt his own wetness mingling with it, tendrils parting and pushing aside, welcoming the intrusion.

His mouth, on the other hand, gave a noise of protest as Wilde pushed the toy inside. It was far too long to be fully seated inside of him, but the girth of it was enough to stretch and sting despite the wetness there.

Wilde ran a soothing hand up Grizzop’s flank, but his voice was patronising. “Shhh, shh pet. I know what it can take.”

Grizzop tried to growl but it came out a whimper as the toy was withdrawn an inch and pressed in, finding a little more depth than he thought he’d had.

Wilde made a self-satisfied noise, stroking the toy a few more times into Grizzop. The goblin grunted, instinctively tried to lean his hips forward to lessen the depth of the strokes. Wilde’s hand dropped the ears. Faster than pencil-pusher had any right to be, Wilde threaded a hand into the collar around Grizzop’s neck and gripped, preventing him from leaning forward. The next thrust of the toy bottomed out and Grizzop’s whole frame was pushed forward. His breath came forced and ragged as his throat was constricted against the front of the collar.

Having found the limiting factors on either end, Wilde started fucking the toy into him in earnest. Grizzop was left with the choice to brace against the floor and take it, or let his body be pushed forward and choke into the collar held firm in Wilde’s hand. He felt blank and dizzy.

Grizzop braced, survival instincts the only thing left to him. The wet sound of the toy’s thrusts inside of him and his panting, wet and muffled by the strap in his mouth, were the only sounds in the room. The puddle of saliva on the floor in front of him spread.

He didn’t even notice when Wilde took the hand off the collar, but he did notice when inquisitive fingers explored around his spread-open hole, stroking the tendrils, gripping them as they twined and sought.

“God, it’s just a wet, eager hole, isn’t it?” Wilde said. He at least had the decency to sound slightly breathless as he kept up, unrelenting. His clever fingers had already deduced what Grizzop’s tendrils would like, spreading the wetness and jerking them off around the toy.

With a sick swoop of his stomach Grizzop realised he was rutting back into the stroke of the toy inside him, hot and breathless, knees sore on the hard floor.

“This is the proper look for you, ceature,” Wilde continued without letting up. “It’s just a good, slutty pet, taking this cock deep in its squirming hole.”

Grizzop felt his whole body flush and with a particularly quick and brutal twist of his tendrils, he came with a sob. His weight went out from his limbs in a wet gush and he hung, limp and gasping against the collar.

Wilde made another one of those insufferably self-satisfied sounds, lowering Grizzop to the floor. He went, boneless and pliable, his chest smearing into the drool beneath him.

Fingers, tainted with his own bitter juice, probed into his mouth around the leather.

“Now, did I fuck the biting instinct out of it?” Another finger, running over his pointed teeth. His jaw ached from being held in this awkward position, and he couldn’t find the energy to bring his teeth together.

Wilde’s quick hands unclasped the gag from Grizzop’s mouth. Wilde untied the lead from the desk, and when he tugged, Grizzop crawled on hands and knees without complaint.

Wilde toed off those soft boots and shucked his pants, settling into an armchair and spreading his legs. Pulling on the lead, he brought Grizzop’s closer.

“You may use your mouth on me, pet. And if you bite me, you won’t like the results.”

Grizzop didn’t even try to reply. At this point, he felt like he’d forgotten how. Wilde gripped him firmly by the base of his ears, and Grizzop let his quiet, wet mouth be pulled into Wilde’s cunt.

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours (6)

Pairing:  Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: none

A/N: Haha I laughed at the reactions for the last part! Yes, it is all happening huu! I cant wait to write even more! And thank you for giving me feedback, it honeslty makes me feel happy and motivated! ❤

tags: @milky-baek​ 💖 (Im so sorry if there were more people who asked, my list got messed up? Im so sorry again, if you want to be tagged pretty please comment on this post or write anon/dm, Im fine with all! Sorry again!! :((( )

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6

-

You left the doctors in deep silence.

None of you were capable to speak much, but there definitely was a lot to talk about, to discuss and probably re-think. Your mind was in an internal turmoil, and it seemed to be a vicious circle. What you just learned was something you would have never ever imagined before. That type of news was… news-worthy. Like television news worthy. From the excitement of the doctor, it easily could become reality.

You vividly imagined yourself talking to the reporter, the microphone of the broadcast station in your face as you tried to explain just how crazy your situation was. A poor countryside family (that didn't even tie the knot yet) expecting three…

Ridding your head of various scenarios, you entered the bus. Thankfully, there weren't many people as you entered the stuffy vehicle. Baekhyun quickly grabbed a single seat for you, wanting to stand right next to your side. Funnily, the one who constantly spoke and had an argument ready was now silent, deep in thought just like you. Glancing up at your boyfriend, he was holding the loop above his head, his gaze set on the road outside, but eyes unfocused. Who knew what was going on in his mind. Was it the same mess just like in yours?

Gnawing at your bottom lip and bunching up your skirt in your hands, you waited for him to look at you, to reciprocate the look. And after several seconds, he snapped out of his reverie and looked down at you, seeing your eyes bulging in scare. He smiled at you softly and widened his eyes at you as he pressed his lips tightly together, giving you a cute face.

You managed to lift one corner of your lips up and you dropped your gaze, reaching for his free hand in his pocket to hold on to, and he immediately complied. Squeezing yours tightly, you could sense he was worried, too. You rested your connected hands on your small tummy and you let out a little scoff in disbelief as you also looked out the window. Belly was small, but soon would be huge, bearing three lives.

Just how long could you prolong your silence at your workplace?

You only had few weeks left.

-

Once the doors of your apartment closed behind you two, you wrapped your arms around Baekhyun's neck, pulling him close to you, burying your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. He didn't hesitate to hug you back, squeezing your aching body as gently yet as persistently as he only could to show you he was there for you.

“Baekhyun,” you whispered, the sound muffled, your breath hot on his skin. “Just what will we do?”

This time he also hid his face in your shoulder, while his other hand came up to rest on the back of your head. “We can do this. This is…” he hesitated before gently pulling back to gaze into your teary eyes, “a blessing. For me. For us.”

Momentarily, you closed your eyes and let his honest words sink in. He was right, of course. If everything would go well, you were heading into a family filled with happiness and lots of children's laughter. “It is, darling. But money-wise-”

“Don't even start,” he retorted gently and cupped your cheek. “That is not something we should focus on right now.”

You frowned. “How should I not focus on it when we barely live with what we have now? And we are two adults, Baekhyun. We need a lot of things for one child, can you imagine the amount of money that goes into three?”

“First, we need to sign up for the governmental support, but I am more than sure that is automatically given once you give birth,” he reasoned rationally, not letting your frown break his stance. “Second, you need to chill, okay? Leave it up to me, I know what I am doing.”

“You need to enlighten me, because I won't be able to chill otherwise.”

“You know I am soon done with my PhD. The position of the professor is literally months away,” he replied hurriedly, “we will manage, honey. I will give my everything to you, to them.”

“But I want to give as well,” you protested, stubborn. “I also want to provide for us, Baekhyun.”

“Well, you are doing just that, aren't you?” he asked, confused at your scared face. “C'mon, you are acting like you are going to get kicked out for being pregnant.”

That shut you up very quickly. Shit. He had no idea you would get sacked the moment your boss as much as sniffed pregnancy.

“You can work until you can, until your body is able to… as much as I hate to say it. I don't want to lock you down just because of your state, sweetie, hm?”

His words touched your heart, but he would soon find out he didn't have to do it because you would do it for him by losing your job. You wanted to laugh. 

“And then you will take the maternity leave. If you can work from home, even better, right?” Baekhyun kept going on, his features brightening.

You nodded, fazed. This was something you probably should resolve by yourself and very quickly. The last thing your wanted was for Baekhyun to provide for five people all by himself.

After few seconds of silence, he let you go. “Go change into something comfy, hm? I will prepare food, you need to eat.”

Standing still, you watched him move around your tiny kitchen, opening the cabinets, preparing plates, heating up food - when he sensed your unmoving body, he turned, and looked at you, perplexed. He called your name softly before coming back to you. “What's the matter?”

Staring at him, you were speechless. So you shook your head.

He chuckled quietly before cradling your neck and bringing your head close so he could give you a lasting kiss on your forehead. “My pregnant little lady.”

You scoffed. “Not little for too long.”

He laughed and his eyes shone when he looked at you, squeezing your cheeks. “Can you imagine? This young cheeky lady, and three babies inside.”

“Baekhyun,” you murmured, rolling your eyes. Your murmur came out funnily as he was still squeezing your cheeks, letting out a little yelp.

“But you are just so cute? How is that possible? Shit, you will be even cuter when the babies will grow!”

You sighed, realising he was in one of those fever moments when he just had to vent out his racing thoughts, be it whatever. “I will be an elephant soon.”

“A cute elephant. An elephant lady to her Dumbo boy?” he quirked his eyebrows and moved his ears back and forth, making you laugh out loud.

“You're unbelievable,” you giggled.

“There it is,” he murmured, affectionate gaze grazing your smiling features.

“Hmm?”

Slowly, he let his thumb trace your stretched out mouth and the soft wrinkles around your eyes. “The smile. The genuine smile. You look gorgeous with it, sweetheart. Whatever it is that is on your mind, vent it all out to me, okay?” he lowered himself a bit so he was on the same eve-level with you. “By no means keep it to yourself. We are in this together.”

You stayed silent for a moment, before saying: “I love you so much.”

He sighed, almost in relief, before bringing you into another hug. “And I love you, much much more.”

When the food was prepared and both you and Baekhyun were changed into comfy clothes, he sat you down onto his lap, both of you munching on the soup.

“This reminds me that one time we drove a truck and sat in the backside, trying not to fall out on the dirt road,” said Baekhyun before slurping on his soup.

You hummed, swallowing your portion. “You mean when you asked me to sit on your lap? And hold onto your sweaty chest?”

He gave you a cheeky grin. “Exactly that one. Just wanted to sweep that pretty young girl off of her feet, straight into my arms,” he sing-sang.

You giggled, remembering that time very well.

It happened before his enlistment. 

The day was scorching hot, creating droplets of sweat on your forehead within minutes of being exposed to the strong sunshine. Your uniform was plastered to your body, but thankfully no one could tell just how hot you were. Probably a big part of it could have been because of that gorgeous boy who was, of course, very well known in your village and the surrounding areas. The hapkido master and charmer who is able to make heads turn within a heartbeat, all for him.

That day he was working around your school and he happened to be finishing his work in the late afternoon just when you were leaving your classroom and heading outside, prepared for the long walk.

You knew Baekhyun. Your family knew Baekhyun. He was a trust-worthy young man and he also lived in the house next to yours. You might have shared few chickens as they were wandering around the shared space. So when he asked if you needed a ride home, you replied with a bright smile, your heart jumping like crazy, your mind racing with possibilities of what he might do. Would he give you a smile? Of course, he would. He was Baekhyun. And he reserved the sweetest of smiles only for you. They were breathtaking and made you feel like you were the only person on this planet. You wanted to share him never.

His colleague driving, you and him climbed on the back to enjoy the breeze throughout the drive but  there were no seats and your skirt was surely short. Baekhyun had had long taken of his sweaty shirt, his toned body glistening under the sunrays. He sat down on the edge with his knees politely connected before he patted the top of his thighs. “Come, sit here,” he said as the car moved and your skirt almost blew upwards before you and him both reached for the hem of it to keep it down.

You blushed a deep red and he gave you a lopsided grin before he gently placed his hands on your hips and helped you lower on his lap, his arm protectively around your back, his hand resting on your hip. His touch was burning through the material, but his breath which was so close to yours was scorching. The pull was strong, yet you didn't dare to look at him right away, feeling his searching gaze on you.

“How is high school?” he started, his voice light. To make sure you wouldn't fall, he placed his other arm over your thighs and looked at you curiously.

Your hands were folded in your lap, and you felt how he purposefully moved the hand closer so your hands would brush and rest against each other. You itched your hand just a tiny bit closer. “It's okay. Too bad the previous seniors are already gone,” you replied, boldly looking him in the eyes, referring to him. “Would have been more interesting to be at school.”

He chuckled boyishly, sending electric waves down your body. “Honest girl, I see.” He looked ahead for a bit before looking back at you again. “That's what I like. It's a shame, indeed. Would have liked to meet you on the corridors of the school.”

Would have loved to kiss you in the dark corner of the corridors, you thought, the idea so sweet you felt the pull in your insides. Ah, not now, don't think about it now! He is right here!

“When are you enlisting?”

“In a couple of months,” he replied. You expected him to grow dull at the idea, but he was still cheerful.

You smiled. “Seems like you are looking forward to it?”

“I love sports and I want to become a real man,” he admitted, laughing. There was a bigger bump on the road, making both of you jump up, his arm tightening around you in reflex which caused him to pull you even closer. Your faces were so, so close.

“I will miss you, though,” you mumbled sheepishly, not caring about almost falling off the car.

“I will come back, hm? It doesn't last forever,” he replied, still gentle in voice. Noticing your sour expression, he said: “ Now there,  I don't want to see that face,” he spoke gently, his face even closer now as you ever so slightly lifted your downcast gaze to meet his dark orbs. “You look beautiful when you smile.” And I think I want to kiss you.

But you might not be ready yet.

-

Sighing in content, you snuggled closer to Baekhyun as you fell asleep right after food. He realised quickly that the happenings of the day must have caught up with you, because by the end of lunch your head was dropping on his shoulder.

Tucking you in the bed, he pulled out his phone while he had you curled up by his chest, your head just under his chin, while his arm was your pillow. In that hand, he was holding his phone and scrolling through some information from the government that could give you help but as much as he scrolled he only got positive news. Although you wouldn't be receiving much, you sure would be getting some cash as a thank you, since the country was doing terribly in terms of birth rate.

Baekhyun was silent, except some random hums that would softly leave his throat, but nothing that would disturb you in your peaceful slumber. His free hand was caressing your back soothingly, slowly he would drag his palm up between your shoulder blades where he would make a circle and than go all the way to the small of your back, reaching the hem of your shirt, where he added more pressure, knowing your lower back was giving you a hard time already.

He was very excited about the news. Of course, it was only natural they caught him off-guard but he just wanted many kids with you and make a happy family like he always imagined. The fact that fate provided this all at once was a sign for him and he was not going to be the one ruining it. And he would make sure he was there for you during each step.

Even if your mind was troubled, you were sleeping rather contently in the arms of your man and his caressings were what you woke up to. Ever so slightly, you lifted your head to have a look at his focused stare illuminated by the screen of his smartphone. He was studying something, and even though he felt you stirring, his caressing had yet to cease.

You reached up with your puckered lips and gave his chin a gentle kiss, signalling him you were up.

He hummed, not looking down at you. “Sleeping beauty is up.”

“Sorry I fell asleep like that,” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the bubble between you two.

“Why are you apologising?” he whisper-asked back, now locking his phone and letting it fall from his hand to look at your pale face. “You must be so tired, honey. I like us being like this.”

You raised your eyebrows in question at his sudden confession.

He smiled gently and gave your nose a sweet kiss. “Lying in bed, you sleeping and probably the babies too, and I'm here looking over you guys.”

His words touched your heart. “Yes. I feel the safest when I am with you.” You caressed his cheek affectionately and he gave you a smile before grabbing his phone to go back to researching.

“Go, sleep some more, sweetie,” he said. “We have work tomorrow, so let's make sure you rest plenty.”

You bit your lip, hiding your face in his chest right away, the thought of entering work tomorrow quite scary.

Mulling whether you should tell Sukyeong about your situation and ask for her advice, you found yourself drifting back into another slumber.

Telling her would maybe ease your worrying heart.

But it wouldn't save your job for sure.

And that was the problem.

[venusofthehardsells]

Dreamgirl [part 5]

BuckyxReader

[part 4]

Summary: Bucky tries to adjust to his new life in the Avengers compound. One day he meets a girl who might be everything he needs in order to move on, but is his past really that far away? Warnings for this chapter: self-hate, fluff wtf, brief threat?... (general series warnings include noncon, violence, mental illness, feels probably) A/N: Yes, hello, I am still alive even if it doesn’t always seem that way. So here we are again, another chapter of a story I bet y’all keep thinking I’ve abandoned. But I will keep on squeezing out updates every once in a while until this fic is done or so help me god I will relay it via ouija board to someone who can publish it for me, is that clear?

All the pent up tension and fear seep out of his body at the sight of her face.

"Mornin' doll," he answers and just like that, Bucky's morning has turned on its axis.

"You're up early," she comments sweetly, tilting her head a little. "I'm opening now if you wanna come in."

It's a normal thing for her to say as a retail worker, but there's something about the way she says it that makes her words of welcome feel personal and warm and only meant for him. She would never say them to anyone else.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he says a little out of breath and the sun has got nothing on her smile then. Feeling as though his stomach is full of butterflies, he follows her inside the empty coffee shop. Relax, it's just coffee, you idiot, he chastises himself, but it's no use. He's almost giddy with excitement now that she's so close. Her faint floral perfume might as well be dragging him along after her as she goes to stand behind the counter.

"What would you like?," she asks, turning to look at him so that the light catches in her little dangly earrings. They send shiny squares of light all over the floor and walls. One of them settles on Bucky's shoulder and her eyes land on it almost lovingly before trailing back up to his face. The look makes Bucky’s legs feel like a pair of cooked spaghetti, but he smiles as he leans on the counter.

“I’ll have some more of that great coffee you made me yesterday, please,” he says without taking his eyes off her, deliberately letting his gaze rest on her face, her hands, her figure when she walks the five small steps from the till to the huge industrial coffee maker by the wall. For a moment he wonders how it can be so enticing watching someone move, but he soon realises he doesn’t really care. He allows himself to get lost in the image of her in front of him, reaching out to take the note he hands her, her fingers elegantly plucking the change from their little compartments in the till’s drawer before placing the coins in the palm of his hand as if they’re some delicate treasure she wants him to keep safe for her.

"You sure you don't want anything to sweeten it?," she asks as she pours the coffee into a cup on the counter between them.

Bucky can't help but chuckle. She as good as serves him the antiquated pick-up line that falls from his lips like a breath before he can even think to stop it.

"Don't need it when I've got you, sugar."

The moment the words are in the air, he wants to swallow them back down. A line like that was already corny in the 30’s, how stupid will it seem to her now? His heart is already so far down his gut he thinks it’s about to wither, when the unimaginable happens. She laughs.

And it’s neither scornful nor condescending. It’s sweet. Genuine.

“If I had a dime for every time someone said something like that to me, I would’ve stopped working here a long time ago,” she chuckles and leans on her elbows on the counter, looking up at him through her lashes. “And then I wouldn’t have been here to hear you say it. You’re the first person I’ve met who’s been so…” She drags her bottom lip in between her teeth while she chooses her words and Bucky has to swallow. It’s simultaneously hot and endearing the way it makes her smile crinkle into a mischievous grin.

“So what?,” he challenges with a confident smirk to try and hide how perfectly not confident he feels right now.

“So infuriatingly charming.”

“I don’t want to presume anything, sugar, but… that sounded an awful lot like a compliment?”

The only reason he doesn’t pull away and out of her personal sphere is because she’s still smiling at him and in the mercifully empty coffee shop, his hearing clearly picks up that her heart-rate is so fast it rivals his own. She’s just as nervous as him, if not more.

“Oh, it most definitely was.”

She’s closer now, or maybe it’s him, but he can feel the heat of her skin and her breath on his cheek as the distance between them dwindles. The sound of his heart stops when she tilts her head just enough and her eyes, those enthralling, beautiful eyes of hers flit down to his lips and he knows he’s done it, he’s got her, all he has to do is lean in the rest of the way and close the still shrinking distance between them…

The jingling of the bell above the door cuts through the moment and jolts her away from him. In one fluid movement, her attention is on the two newly arrived customers and her smile stretches into the overly intense customer service mask of false enthusiasm Bucky sees on so many retail workers' faces and her voice when she greets them rises half an octave to match. It's like watching a shapeshifter.

Bucky steps back and lets her work, taking a sip of his coffee. His heart is still pounding in his chest.

He almost kissed her.

The realisation hits him belatedly as another slurp of scalding liquid runs down his throat. It's the 21st century and Bucky Barnes is still capable of wooing a woman. That's a triumph if ever he saw one. If only those idiots (he can't help but think of the two customers that way) hadn't come in, his tongue would be in her mouth right now.

As much as the thought of kissing her thrills him - and it does thrill him to the point of breathlessness - it also fills him with a bitter sense of regret. Because he's not going to be that stupid. He can't do that to her, can't let her get that close no matter how badly he wants her to.

Just like that, his stomach ties into a hard knot when it hits him how selfish he has been.

She's beautiful, radiant even in her uniform shirt and flat practical shoes as her hands fly through the motions of making whatever it was the couple ordered, yellow nail polish hearts blurring at the tips of her deft fingers. Despite her strained auto-smile, she seems… well, maybe not happy, but at the very least content beneath the efficient exterior. Bucky imagines how easily he could turn her almost-happiness into regret and disappointment by just being with her. His nightmares alone would be a deal-breaker to a lot of people, he's sure of that, never mind his mood swings, his melancholia, the trouble he has mentally adjusting to almost everything around him all the time…

He manages to stop himself before his face falls and reveals the shift in his demeanour. 

He should just go now while her head is turned and not come back. Find another coffee shop to supply his morning runs and hope he never sees her again.

"Your loss, soldier," the Asset smirks in his reflection on the glass-clad counter. He's not wearing the mask this time, but Bucky almost wishes he did. "Guess I'll just have to take care of her for both of us."

Bucky barely manages to contain a snarl.

I swear if you touch her it'll be the last thing you ever do.

The Asset bares his teeth in a vicious grin. Bucky's stomach rolls seeing his own almost-face like that.

"Try and stop me."

Bucky blinks and the Asset is gone from his reflection. The next thing he knows, she is turning back towards him, eyes bright, sweet smile at her lips… and the Asset's silver metal fingers around her throat. They squeeze, just like in his nightmare, digging into her flesh.

No!

He reaches out blind with panic so fast he almost stumbles. If he has to pry that cursed hand off her, so be it.

But Bucky's fingers never close around the Asset's. Instead, his palm is met by the softness of her neck, his fingers by the feeling of her hair and the pad of his thumb with a tickle of her earring.

"James?..."

The look she gives him is a whirl of surprise, wonder, hesitation, hope…

Bucky doesn't know what he's doing until he's leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers and then there's no going back. He hasn’t kissed a girl in god only knows how many years, but it feels even better than he remembers. Every muscle in his body nearly sags in relief and at the same time, he’s sure he’s as hard strung as a high wire. He softly brushes his thumb along her jaw and she sighs, leans into his touch and into the kiss, tentatively moving her lips a little against his.

He knows he should stop this, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to.

All he wants is to stand there all day with her, shamelessly indulging in the feeling of her mouth and her skin, and in her scent of flowers and coffee, just reveling in the warmth of having another human being so intimately close.

She nibs ever so softly at the pillow of his bottom lip and he's sure his heart stops for a full ten seconds. He feels the small motion in the entirety of his body, in every vein and crevice, until he's sure the kiss has made him so soft he can't stand up straight anymore. He wants to mold himself to her and he would have pulled her close to him if it weren't for the counter between them.

When at last she breaks away to draw in a trembling breath, her eyes are still closed and her slightly parted lips slowly spread in a hazy smile. 

“Wha-...” She’s breathless. Breathless and smiling and the the most beautiful creature Bucky has ever seen. “What was that?”

He did that to her. Despite his mind shouting at ten different octaves of chaos, he can’t help the smug little shrug as his face breaks into a happy grin too.

“Persuasive, I hope.”

The husky confidence in his voice is completely at odds with the struggle raging inside his head, but he manages to keep it from bleeding through and she doesn’t notice, he thinks.

"Oh, very," she sighs, not taking her eyes off him. "If… if you want to make sure though, I, uh, have a break at twelve."

She licks her lips nervously and Bucky can feel the heat coming off her face. It's taking all of his willpower and then some to not immediately lean in for another lasting kiss. His mouth is already forming the word, yes, when his messily giddy mind catches up to him.

Friday noon is a perpetually occupied space in his relatively empty calendar.

He wants to punch something. The mandatory therapy sessions were the last thing on his mind up until this very second.

"'m so sorry, sugar, twelve's a bad time for me. But, uhm…," he hurriedly babbles when her face falls just the tiniest bit. "Maybe I could pick you up when your shift ends? If… if it's not too sudden or-"

"James, I think we passed the point of "too sudden" when you kissed me like that."

He blushes hotly all the way down his neck, but she's thankfully just as flustered and it makes him feel oddly light.

"Like what?"

"Like in a movie," she answers quietly, looking down with a little embarrassed chuckle.

“That’s one hell of a compliment,” Bucky smirks, softly running a finger down the bare stretch of her soft forearm. “Kinda wanna makes a guy try again. If it’s wanted.” She looks down at his fingers and he can hear her breath hitch, clear and sweet as a silver bell to his ears.

“It’s wanted,” she almost whispers, meeting his eyes again. She’s all nerves for a second, but then she smiles, emboldened perhaps by the way he’s looking at her. Because Bucky’s sure he’s doing a very poor job of hiding the pure adoration in his gaze. “And I get off at five.”

She lets him intertwine their fingers and, lightheaded as he is, he lifts their joined hands and kisses her knuckles.

"Five it is, sugar."

She beams at him and his stomach does a somersault when he realises what he's just done: he’s just gotten himself a date. The exact opposite of leaving her alone and blissfully unaware of the dark mess that he is. It would be the right thing to do and he knows it, but if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want to. He wants to see her again. He wants to kiss her again. He wants to do so much more than that.

His cock twitches at the untimely image his mind conjures then of her straddling him at the hips, both of them naked as the day they were born and he swallows hard, clenching his teeth behind his smile to try and focus on her very clothed form in front of him, but it doesn’t help at all. He wants her too much. 

Hell, if he had it his way, they would lock the door now and he would take her right there on the counter and then on every one of the tables, then against the walls, on the floor, on whatever surface stable enough really and the very visual thought alone is enough to have his face burning.

How is it possible to simultaneously want to put his arms around her and keep her close and tell her how beautiful she is but at the same time want to thoroughly fuck her until neither of them can remember their names anymore?

"I'll see you then." The breathy quality in her reply makes him wonder how his name would sound on her lips if she was moaning it and he knows he really needs to leave. Even though letting go of her warm, pretty hand is about the last thing he wants to.

He sends her one last confident smirk and turns to go, but her voice makes him stop.

"James, wait!"

Bucky almost swirls in place and he sees her grabbing a pen from somewhere below the till. She quickly scribbles something down on a piece of receipt paper and hands it to him.

She only shyly meets his eyes.

"Just in case," she says with a nervous shrug and he stares down at the little slip.

It's her phone number, followed by one word in quotations.

'Sugar'.

When he looks up at her again she leans close and places a quick kiss on his cheek.

Bucky doesn't remember running back to the compound, but this isn't a blackout in the blink of an eye like yesterday was.

It's the feeling of floating.

[TRANSMISSION]

ORION: STATUS. ALHABOR: SAFEWORDS SUCCESSFULLY TESTED. ASSET SUSPECTS NOTHING. ORION: INFORM ME OF ANY AND ALL PROGRESS. ALHABOR: UNDERSTOOD. ORION: HAIL HYDRA ALHABOR: HAIL HYDRA

Tags will be added in reblog ~

[drreidfics]

Dr. Reid and the Broken Girl pt.2

DR. REID AND THE BROKEN GIRL (Working Title)

Characters : SpencerReid x FemReader

Warnings : Abuse, Hints of Self Harm, Eating Disorders, Scenes of Suicidal Behaviours.

CAUTION // TW // THIS BOOK DEALS WITH MATURE CONTENT SUCH AS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, SEXUAL ASSULT, SELF HARM, MENTAL ILLNESS AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE. IT ALSO INCLUDES A LOT OF RATED-R MATERIAL. IF THIS IS TRIGGERING OR MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ.

I munched on a crunchy chicken taco. It was all I was allowing myself to have today. I'd had a try of Dr. Reid's homemade soup that he had made. He was adorable. It was the sweetest thing. His soup would steam up his reading glasses as he slurped the juice off of his spoon. I wish I was that spoon!

"You have to try this Sweet, It's my momma's recipe" he beamed, pushing the spoon towards me.

"But I'm dieting"

"Stop being silly. There's hardly anything on you". He lifted the spoon to my mouth. I slurped the soup. I will admit, it was yummy.

"I am round under these clothes" I joked.

"Round in the places that count" He retorted before clearing his throat and blushing, realising what he had said might have been inappropriate. It gave me butterflies. He liked my body, but my head was a mess and the only opinion that mattered was the screaming voice within it Feeling fat, I nibbled at the taco in my hand. I'd already eaten way too much. Luna slurped on her drink loudly. I frowned. Here we go.

"I saw Dom around town during study break" Luna stated, staring down at her tray full of food."Study break is for studying, not shopping!" I joked, trying to change the subject. My eyes darted anywhere but her. "It's still happening isn't it" She stated matter of factly. I couldn't reply. I could only stare at the floor. What did she expect me to say? Open up to her and tell her all the gory details? She knew enough as it was. She had seen the parts of me, the marks on me, that nobody else had. She had kissed my bruises once upon a time, made me feel safe, cuddled me to sleep. She knew intimate details nobody else did and she swore blind she would kill him. I had to talk her out of going to the cops. It would only make things worse, I'd protest. It usually ended in an argument. Maybe I would tell her everything that is going on within me one day. But today wasn't that day.

She sensed that she had stepped out of line and the look in her eyes told me that she felt terrible. In reality, she shouldn't have, she was my best friend, once was more, and she cared for me. I was the one out of line. I was making her feel bad for caring. My nails picked at the skin on my opposite hand. She noticed and reached her arm over, her hand cupping mine and her thumb stroking my wrist. She opened her mouth to speak again

"and this has to stop too. This not eating, the self-harm, this bad self-image. It's gotta stop."

I sighed. I knew she was right. But I wasn't going to admit it. A look of anguish crossed her perfectly symmetrical face. I looked down at the tray of food in front of us. It was easy for her to say. She was beautiful. She was everything I was not. I wasn't ready to get help. That was the whole truth. You cannot help a person if they are not willing to get help. I am not willing.

"I have eaten today" I said hoping that it would convince her to drop the subject. "A shitty taco from shitty Taco Bell isn't enough - no offence' She said, turning her head to the nosey cleaning lady stood by our table, earwigging for the last bit. I couldn't help but giggle. "I ate earlier" "Mmh, When?" "Dr. Reid gave me a bit of his lunch". A smirk crossed her perfect features. "Y/N and Reid, sitting in a - ' "-Hi," an all too familiar voice interrupted, from behind me, sounding shy. My heart fluttered at the sound of it. I could recognise it anywhere. My cheeks burned a bright red. Had he heard? How long had he been stood there? I am going to kill her, I thought. Luna is forever dropping me in the shit. I kicked her leg gently from under the table and turned to face him. He looked nervous... adorable. "Oh, hi Dr." Luna said, looking past me, smiling. "Y/N, thanks for the dinner". She turned to Spencer. "I was just leaving for the bathroom. You can have my seat! You kids have fun!" she joked.

She stood up, kissing my cheek and gathering her belongings, before skipping away. What was she doing? I thought. She ran towards the glass exit doors. I am going to murder her, one day, I really am. It was pouring rain, it was dark, it was cold and she was my ride.

"I'm - I'm thirty-" Dr. Reid called after her, looking like a lost pup, his social awkwardness coming out. He stood around awkwardly and licked his bottom lip. I loved it when he did that. I had noticed he had done it a few times around me and he had confessed to me that that was what he did when he was nervous. Do I make him nervous? ... Stop this thought process! He was probably nervous because he had just bumped into his college student un-arranged outside of class. It had nothing at all to do with me. Still, what I wouldn't give for him to bend me over and fuck me right now. I bit my lip as thoughts of him bending me over the table and taking me entered my mind.

"I haven't interrupted your date have I?" he asked grimacing, interrupting my dirty thoughts and swaying side to side.

A small smile spread across my face. Yes, he was interrupting, butnot for the reason he thinks. He swayed a little, unsure of what to do with himself, and straightened out his coat.

"No. We're friends. You know this" I replied warmly. "Well, we were, then we were kind of dating, now we're not. I'm not gay. Well I kind of am. I'm not sure what I am. Oh, you know this all - I do like men too - Sorry, I'm oversharing. I do that when I'm nervous" I stuttered, anxious. He looked amused now, his dark eyes twinkling. He looked amazing.

I noticed his top button was undone and I just wanted to rip off the rest of his shirt. His hair was slightly messier than usual. I wanted to run my fingers through it. He must have had a stressful day. Don't worry Dr. Reid, my mouth could make it all better, I thought.

His black trench coat fitted him perfectly. He had it unbuttoned slightly and he had on a purple scarf with a brown saddle bag. I loved the vintage element that he somehow managed to incorporate into anything he wore. He always looked smart. And hot. He had a hand full of brown paper shopping bags and a coffee in his spare hand.

"Hey, none of my business what you like to do in the bedroom. You can like whoever you want to like, I was just worried I'd interrupted." he held up his hands defensively, a cheeky smirk on his face. "Excuse me if I'm wrong but I think your friend has left you. I mean, that's definitely not the bathroom door... unless I've been doing it wrong my whole life." he joked with a smile as he slipped into the booth seat across from me.

I giggled at his joke. It wasn't a forced giggle. It was a genuine one. He always made me giggle when I was around him. Maybe it was the excitement that he filled me with. The light hit his eyes perfectly. Beautiful, shiny, and captivating. I could have stared into them all night. He smiled and, looking down shyly, took a sip of his steaming coffee. "Who comes to Taco Bell for coffee?" I questioned, my tone a teasing one. He smiled up at me. "Who comes to Taco Bell for a date?" he retorted. I put up my middle finger. He mocked heartbreak. "No I got this overpriced beauty at Starbucks. I was walking by and I saw you in here and couldn't resist not seeing you"

I blushed violently. He shuffled awkwardly in his seat and cleared his throat. An awkward silence filled the air. This was the first time I had felt at a loss for words around him. I don't think he meant it like I wished he did. He doesn't like me. He's just friendly. His eyes darted anywhere but mine. He most certainly didn't mean it in the way that I was hoping he'd mean it and that was why he couldn't look me in the eye. He probably came to ask me how my school work was going or something. We had flirted quite a bit but it was all fun and games... that or his awkward social interaction.

"I like our conversations Spence, so... I'm glad." I smiled trying to fill the awkward silence and taking a slurp of my diet soda. He smiled before looking behind him. "Is your friend coming back?" he asked, his beautiful eyes darting from me to the door. I looked around. She'd taken her coat, her bag and her car keys with her when she left. I had presumed she'd wait in her car for me... I turned to look out the window and noticed her car was no longer there. I guess she's not...

"No. I don't think so. Sorry about her. She's a little..."                                            "-Erratic?'" he asked, interrupting me and brushing his, slightly curled at the end, chestnut coloured hair out of his eyes.                                                                                                                                           

  "Yes. And she was my ride." I sighed.

"Huh -”

“- don't worry, I can give you a ride" he smiled, as he shoved a handful of Luna's leftover fries into his mouth, making me smile. He looked so cute. I've never wanted to hold someone more than what I did in that moment. Damn it, stop this, I scolded. It was no use having feelings for someone, who'd never love you back, right? All I was doing was teasing myself. A man like him would never fall for a girl like me regardless of whether he was my professor or not. I knew this, he knew this and I needed to stop being so silly.

"Thank-you" I smiled. He smiled back. "I am a true gentleman. So, how was your day?" He asked, still shoving cold fries into his mouth. "It was pretty shitty, to be honest. My lunch break was fun though" I smiled. He winked at me making my heart flutter. "I have that charm" he joked. "You'll have to keep me around to save your day". "Oh for sure I do" I smiled.

He slipped his legs further towards me, wrapping them around mine, from underneath the table. Normally I would flinch and jolt back at any sort of unsuspected human touch. But, I didn't move. It just felt so...natural. So... right. Being so close to him always made me feel safe.

If his legs were giving me so many sparks then I can't imagine what his dick would feel like. I felt heat radiating from down there. I find it very hard to get turned on due to what I am dealing with but he just does wonders to me. I am a hot mess around him. I felt wrong thinking this. Not only was he my professor, my best friend, but I felt guilt for thinking that way given my situation. I shouldn't want a man to touch me. Should I? I usually don't. The only person I could ever stand the thought of touching me intimately was Luna... Until this man entered my life. Dr. Reid... What are you doing to me.

After an hour of talking and laughing we had decided it was time to call it a night. The manager of the restaurant, looked at us throughout, pretty annoyed. The poor woman just wanted to close up for the night but was too polite to ask us to leave.

He skipped in front of me in the empty car park, laughing joyously before spinning around to look at me. "So, home?" he asked. I nodded. Yeah, home... "Oh. Here you go". He slipped his coat off of his shoulders and wrapped it around me. The fall air had dropped cold. Extreme opposite to the warm weather we had throughout the day. I didn't think I could fall more in love. Was I really in love though? I mean, can you really be in love with someone that you have never been intimate with? Of course, you can, right? Intimacy doesn't have to be sex, I reminded myself.

I'd known him for over a year now. We had been close since the first day he walked into the classroom, on that cold depressing day in September, and announced that he was taking over Professor Baldwin. I still remember his face, how he looked as I peaked up from the book that I was reading, his eyes softening as they met mine. I'd always felt this connection with him. I can't explain it nor can I act on it. I just feel like, whenever we're near, he made me complete.

He has helped me through so much knowingly and unknowingly. He was there for me when Luna and I hit a rough spot in - whatever we had that was going on - we didn't name it and I'm glad of that. He along with Luna is the only person who knows I find both genders attractive. I would never dare tell Sharon. She was very old school. I was worried of how she might react. He also knew about my constant dieting - though not to the extent in which I did it - and I'd confide in him many a times when I just wanted it all to end. He had stayed up all night talking me down many times. I would never dare tell him that a lot of times I acted upon those thoughts though. He didn't get to know that part. Nor did he get to know what was going on at home. It was embarrassing. I would class him as one of my best friends. Was that weird? To be so close to your professor? I suppose it would be even weirder if I tired to act upon the dirty thoughts in my mind...

He interrupted my thoughts, pulling a set of car keys from his back pocket, unlocking his car. It was a very nice, expensive car. Sometimes I wondered if he was a part-time stripper with the car and the apartment (he had shown me pictures of it before he had moved in last fall.). He had an expensive taste that a teachers salary probably couldn't buy. There was something hiding behind those dark, mysterious eyes. My guess is a stripper. Heck, I'd pay to watch that.

I opened the passenger side door as he threw his bags into the boot. I wish I didn't have to go home. Back to him... "I'll direct you if you want?" I asked knowing the answer would be no. "No, it's ok, I don't live far from there so I can alway's remember where you live. I actually viewed a house to rent around that area." he smiled as he slipped into the driving seat and placed his keys in the ignition. "plus, eidetic memory?" he winked. I nodded my head as he shifted into drive pulled out of the parking lot. "Bet your alone time is always fun" I joked, biting my lip. "That it is" he smiled mysteriously.

It was a quiet drive. The rain pattered heavily against the windscreen and the wind blew violently. It was nice to listen to. It wasn't like we didn't have anything to talk about. It was just that we enjoyed being in each others company regardless of the silence. I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket and I scrambled trying to find it. Spencer glanced over. Curious as to what I was doing.

"Text" I informed him. He smiled warmly and nodded before focusing back on the road. The phone screen lit up the car brightly hurting my eyes slightly. I was expecting a text from Luna asking how it was going or begging me to come round for some 'girl time' but it wasn't her. Instead, it was from Dom.

'Mom on business again. Means I get to do whatever I want 2 u for a week. U'll be sorry Luna got involved again. .' it read.

No, this can't be happening. I'm going to have a panic attack, I thought. No matter how often this happens it still hurts the same. The fear is still the same. How could she do this to me? I thought angrily. A tear fell from my eye and my breathing became heavy. I wiped it away frantically, hoping Spence hadn't seen it, my mind filled with thoughts of dread. What was he going to do? I always think that he had done his worst but he always seems to beat it every time his mother went away. Maybe this time he'll kill me. As sick as it was, that thought was the kindest thing he could do. Maybe I would have the guts end my own life tonight and get it over with.

"What is that?" a sharp voice interrupted my thoughts. I jumped in shock before fumbling for the lock screen button. "What? Oh, nothing. Sorry. Was the light distracting you?" I asked before realising that we had arrived at my house. Just my house, not my home. "No. In case you haven't noticed we are outside of your house. Now, what was that?" he asked, a little more harshly this time. What gave him the right to ask these questions? I thought, the anger inside me brewing.

"I said it was nothing" I said monotonously.

"Why are you lying to me Y/N?" he asked. Annoyance drenched his voice. A tear broke free again only this time I didn't care if he saw it. "Who was that and what did they mean?". I was so angry. How fucking dare he look over my shoulder. How dare he read my texts and how dare he demand me answer him when it had nothing to do with him at all.

"I can't believe this"

"What?"

"You. How fucking dare you" I spat out as I frantically gathered my things, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the car door. "My texts have nothing to do with you. Who I text has nothing to do with you. My life has nothing do do with you. How dare you demand answers over something that has nothing to do with you. In case you haven't noticed, you are my teacher, I am your student. I am none of your concern" I got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride Dr". Venom laced my tongue. His face broke my heart but I was too angry at the time to care. I don't think I was angry at him. I think my anger just came out around him because I felt I was safe to show emotion. I slammed the car door and turned my back on him, running towards my front porch, knowing he was watching, making sure I was safe. But I was not looking back at him once. I knew it could have been the last time I'd ever see him. I should have stared at him longer.

Broken bone after broken bone. It started when I was 9 and had continued ever since. He was two years older and a lot stronger. I should be used to this pain, I should be used to the rape, I should be used to the bruises and I should be used to the names. I tell everyone I'm fine but when I am alone I cry. I cut myself within an inch of my life. I overdose on pills and lay in the bath hoping to pass out and drown. I tie a noose round my neck and dare myself to jump. It never works. Then I bandage it up, plaster on a smile and act like I'm okay.

I closed the door behind me entering quietly, willing him to be in his bedroom on a game or something, Hoping he'd be unable to hear me whilst I ran up the stairs and lock my door. I almost made it. Almost. But he stood tall in front of me, blocking me from my safety.

He left me alone at 2am, leaving to go on some drug fuelled party bender. The black fuzzes invaded my eyes, my ears screeching. Everywhere I looked they clouded my vision. I was too weak to do anything. It was a mix of not eating, my emotions building up, and the abuse I had suffered. Maybe it was time to give up? Was this supposed to be the end? Was this all that my life was to be? Blood dripped from my nose. I crawled towards my en-suite.

Sitting inside the walk in shower not even bothering to take off my long sweatshirt, I reached up, turning it on. The hot water stung my skin. It burned but it felt good. Maybe I could burn away his touch... My shaky hand reached for the Stanley knife I kept in there. I didn't have to hide it. I had no one checking up on me - no one that would notice. The sharp blade indented my wrist as I held it in place. I didn't feel fearful. I've tumbled down this hole many times before.

I pushed down hard, the blade cutting in deep, blood trickled down my arm. I watched as the thing that reminded me I was still living washed down the drain. I closed my eyes leaning my head against the shower wall. My phone sat, smashed up, on the floor near me. I really needed to apologise for what I've done, I thought. Maybe it was just my brain clinging onto life. A small, subconscious, part of me that still had hope.I don't know. Opening up my texts I typed,

'I'm sorry Spence. I shouldn't have had a go at you like that. It wasn't your fault. I'm having a hard time... I'm sorry, love you. Don't worry, I won't be around soon'

I typed. I didn't dare press send. The small voice in my brain comforted me. 'What would it matter. It's 4am, You'll be gone by the time he sees it anyway, it said. I gulped, hitting send, I placed my phone back on the floor. I felt dizzy and sick. I suppose it was due to the low blood sugars. My vision darkened and clouded again. I was tired. I pressed my head against the wall and closed my eyes allowing the darkness to consume me as my phone vibrated frantically on the floor. 

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes (8.)

―; summary: Florence grapples with far too many feelings and, as always, Lissie comes to the rescue.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.8k

―; warnings: light swearing.

―; A/N: flor is too lovely for all of this and i just want her to be happy guys im :(( but also, can we start a felicity marlowe fanclub?? please leave applications below to become an official member bc everyone should love her she’s like a rockin’ older sister. 

also, if i was okay with writing like 6k word chapters they would’ve kissed in this one so keep an eye out in the next chapter people

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

― ❊ ―

The walk back to Florence’s home was filled with light, cheerful conversation but brushes against the shoulder and moments of her simply studying Jacob’s face seemed far more frequent. Or were they like this usually? Florence was unsure; she’d begun to overwhelm herself inside her own mind, though she kept Jacob none the wiser. The last thing that she could afford right now was him, of all people, digging through her conscious.

“-- and I was trying to enjoy a pint but along comes Evie with this huge bloke’s head in her hands and she just slams him into my table. I tell you, beer in the eyes is painful but not as painful as the splinters that man had to pull out of his face.” Jacob grimaced, gazing into as though he was envisioning the wound’s that very moment. Then hazel eyes met hers, amusement mirrored in both of their eyes. “So, the moral of that story is to never go drinking with my sister.”

“Such a shame, that.” Florence’s brows drew together in faux disappointment. “To think, I was going to invite your sister down to the pub this weekend.”

“Without me?”

She shot him a little wink, a finger coming up to tap her nose. “Girl talk, Jacob; you wouldn’t understand.”

He huffed out a laugh, taking a familiar turn into her street. “I’m not sure Evie would either.”

Florence’s gaze fixed to the profile of his face for a moment too long, just watching the curl of his lips and the jovial light flickering in his eyes. Why did she find it so impossible that he actually wanted to spend time with her? Remnants of Thomas prickled at her heart, despite Jacob’s work to remove them. The thought that she might allow herself to fall fully for this man-- this assassin-- only for him to break her again terrified her more than Florence would like to admit. Yet, his presence had been lingering on her mind for longer than she’d previously realised.

His eyes dragged from the bunting strung above her street to her and the worried little crease between her eyebrows. Florence appeared to be in another world entirely. “Flor? Are you alright?”

She blinked once, then again, before refocusing on the world around her. A gentle smile tugged her lips upwards and she nodded. “Yes, of course. I was just thinking…”

… that I’d very much like to kiss you.

… of how you always seem to make me feel at ease.

… about you.

“... that we should perhaps part ways here, lest Freddy interrogate the both of us. You know how he is.”

Jacob chortled, nodding, his brows raised. “Indeed I do.” There came a little sigh, hardly noticeable, though gave the impression that he was almost sad that their time together had come to a close. The smile she gave him said the same.

Something heavy hung above their heads.

“Well, thank you for today, Jacob. There’s nothing like watching someone you know beat a crowd of grown men up.” Florence breathed out a laugh, shaking her head slightly.

There was a softness to Jacob’s face; the curve of his lips was gentle, the glint in his eyes screamed of something more than a simple care, and his gaze studied each of her features-- from that little mole on her bottom lip to the hump in her nose to the strands of mousy hair that had taken to resting on her forehead. The arm that had been hooked around hers moved forward but he paused before putting his hand on her hip. Instead, below her sight, Jacob’s hand balled into a loose fist-- a sign of a change of heart. “Florence,” her full name, “look, I really--”

Her hand came to his shoulder to stop him, heart roaring her ears. “I should really be getting inside, Jacob.” Ah, Christ Almighty, he looked like a kicked puppy. It was near indescribable how much her heart wanted her to push forward embrace him, tell him of all the tangled worries occupying her mind, but that very mind insisted that Florence had to make sense of it herself first. So, as to appease her heart enough to allow her a few hours of restful sleep tonight, she rolled up onto the tips of her toes, placed a hand to one of his cheeks, and gave a featherlight kiss to the other. She muttered a soft “Visit me again soon.” before turning and hurrying into the safety of her own home.

Jacob watched after her with wide eyes and parted lips. It was rare that Jacob Frye was speechless but, for a few moments, his brain was completely incapable of comprehending words. Was he blushing? His own hand came to his cheek and he frowned slightly. Maybe.

Bloody Hell.

London does have its surprises.

---

“A letter came for you while you were out, Florrie” was the first thing she heard as she walked in the door. Freddy, from the lounge chair, glanced over the newspaper he had been reading and to his sister, furrowing his brows at the red tinge to her ears and neck and the otherwise lost look in her eyes. “You look flustered.”

Florence hung her shawl beside the door and tucked a few strands that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. “Oh, it’s…” Eyes flickered over to the letter on the tea table before flitting to Frederick, giving him a reassuring smile, “... it’s nothing. I think Lissie made my corset a smidge too tight this morning and, well,” Her lips pursed and her brows rocketed toward her hairline, “I’ve already told you how overwhelming Willard can be.”

Freddy hummed, uncomfortable with the thought of a man being so shameless with his sister. The newspaper flopped at one corner when he gestured to the letter now in her hands. “What’s that about, then? Is it mother and father?”

She tapped the back of the envelope with her thumb for a second or two, having vaguely recognised the handwriting as most certainly not her mother’s, before tearing it open. It was an invitation to meet again the day after the next from--

“Willard. He’s asked to meet with me again.” She muttered, scanning over the contents of the letter.

Freddy frowned. “Couldn’t he have asked you that at the library?”

Ah, shit.

“He had to leave on ‘important business’ earlier than I expected so he must’ve just forgotten.” Florence had a talent for lying through her teeth, though whenever it was to her brother she did feel the need to pray to the Lord above at the same time.

Freddy was quiet for a few moments then sighed. Florence held her breath. “No doubt his ‘important business’ was--” The pitch of his voice heightened somewhat and it drew a smile up from his sister, “-- ‘collect my latest pomade shipment, make a fancy speech to parliament, plot the demise of Frederick Abberline.’”

She snorted, folding the letter back up and balancing it between her middle and ring fingers. “I’m sure he’s arranging the hitmen as we speak, dear brother.”

Freddy shrugged and raised his eyebrows in response, a motion that said “probably” before letting his eyes drift back to the newspaper. Florence paused for a few moments in her place, toying with the letter. She needed to speak with Lissie.

“When you see her next, can you tell Lissie to come up to my room? I’d like to get out of this corset and into a nice bath.”

“Of course.” Frederick gave her a little farewell smile as his sister made her way towards the staircase.

Lissie was something of an agony aunt and, goodness, did she need someone’s ear to chew off. In fact, merely thinking of it made her hands shake and breathing heavy. Even the gentle meowing of Duncan behind her bedroom door did very little to calm her nerves.

A gentle knock came to the door and Florence didn’t even have a chance to answer before the figure of Lissie bumbled through the door. She had two cups of tea in her hand and a concerned glint in her eyes; she already knew that Florence was worrying. Felicity was a good woman and Florence appreciated her very much.

Without a word, Lissie passed a cup to Florence and she began to blow over the surface of it, steadying it when the older woman took a seat on the bed beside her. There was a slurping noise-- how did she drink it while it was still so hot?-- then Lissie settled the tea into her lap, turning slightly so she could take Florence in fully. “What’s the matter, dear--”

“I like him.” She blurted out, honey eyes flickering from her tea to her maid. There was a look of desperation there-- as if she was hoping that Felicity could simple somehow magic away that clenching of her heart.

Lissie furrowed her brows. “You like who?”

“Jaco-- Mister Frye. We’ve been spending more time together recently and I-- and we--” Florence held her breath, keeping eye contact with Lissie for a few moments, before finally sighing. “He almost kissed me.” There was a pause. “I almost kissed him.” Another. She threw one hand up into the air and the cup of tea in her other hand wobbled dangerously. “I don’t know-- I don’t know! I just--”

“Lovely!” A hand came to Florence’s shoulder. “Lovely. Calm down.” Lissie’s smile was so kind that Florence actually felt her shoulders relax. Blue eyes met hers and, to reassure Lissie, she gave her a little nod. “It’s fine. He’s not a bad bloke, is he?”

“No, of course not. Jacob is… well, he’s really charming. He’s not a huge gentleman but he doesn’t have to be. I just--” Florence glanced to the corner of the room, where Duncan was watching them both, then back to Lissie. “I just think I really like him.”

That smile curled at Felicity’s lips and Florence stifled a laugh of disbelief. Before she could say anything though, Lissie was already speaking, “Oh, to be young and in love.”

“You’re lucky I need you, Felicity Marlowe.”

Lissie grinned, crow’s feet appearing at the corners of her eyes. “I know, I know. But,” The same hand that had been on her shoulder moved to her lap, giving Florence’s thigh a reassuring squeeze beneath her skirts, “you seem quite smitten with this Jacob fellow and, from the sounds of it, he likes you enough too. Is he why you’re always out?”

Florence took a sip of tea, avoiding the answer to the question for as long as she could, and flinched when it burnt her tongue. She swallowed once, with brows pulled downwards, then answered a simple: “Yes”.

“Do you enjoy yourself with him?”

A pause. “Yes.” Honey eyes met blue ones, remnants of the day swimming about in them. “Did you know he took me to a fight club today? I watched him fight; he’s the champion there.”

Lissie’s fingernails tapped along the ceramic cup and her lips pursed for a moment. “So, why is it such a dilemma that you fancy him, then?”

There was the real question. Why did it bother her so much that she liked someone-- liked him? It wasn’t like Jacob had done any wrong by her yet. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to make her happier. And, the way he had looked at her: as though she was everything that existed in the world at that moment. God, it made Florence’s throat tighten and heart swell.

“I should be looking for a wealthy husband. I need someone my father would benefit from.” Lissie looked unconvinced. Florence looked panicked. “Freddy wouldn’t approve either.”

Felicity set her tea down and held her hands out. Florence did the same and placed her own hands in the maid’s grip. A thumb glided over the back of her palm as an effort to comfort. “Firstly, you have never been concerned with such tripe. My Florence would rather die than marry into wealth.”

Florence’s lips curled into one of those smiles that said: “You’re right but I don’t want to admit that I was wrong”.

“Secondly,” One of Lissie’s hands came up to raise Florence’s gaze back to her, “in the politest way possible, fuck your brother.”

Florence frowned. “I’d prefer not to.”

Felicity groaned, rolling her eyes and giving a slight pinch to the back of Florence’s hand. “Hush, you terrible woman.” She huffed out a laugh, allowing Lissie to continue. “Freddy would disapprove if you got with the son of Queen Victoria herself. He might yap on about you needing to marry a ‘good man’ but all he cares for is your happiness, lovely. He’s probably just worried about Jacob’s intentions.”

Florence sighed, teeth gnawing at her top lip. She was right. Lissie was always right.

“What is it that’s really worrying you?”

That clenching in her chest began again but it was sadder this time-- scared. When she looked back up to Felicity, there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I’m frightened he’s going to break my heart or--or--” One fell down the curve of her face and Lissie was already pulling Florence into a hug, burying the younger’s face into her own shoulder, “-- if he might leave me because I’m too b-boring and I--”

A gentle ‘shh’ came to stop her blubbering and stuttering. “Florence, lovely, you’re one of the most interesting, lively women I’ve ever met and anyone would be blind to not see the same.” Florence hiccuped into her shoulder, pulling away slightly to rub her eyes. At the same time, Felicity’s hands cupped her cheeks to ensure that Florence was looking at her. Red circled honeyed eyes, lashes thick and dark with tears. Lissie frowned slightly and moved forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. “If he’s gotten into your heart, it’s because he tried. I reckon Jacob wants you as much as you want him.”

God, he had tried. Jacob was so kind to her-- so willing to help her outside of this little box she’d been put in by her class. He wasn’t afraid to show her new things in fear that it’d ‘ruin her innocence’. He’d tell her horribly lewd jokes because they made her do that silly snort of hers. He, despite his sister’s words of concern, always went out of his way to see her.

Florence’s heart calmed down a little bit.

Maybe this all wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Through a small sniff and her hands coming up to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks, Florence sighed but it sounded somewhat like a laugh. “That sounds terribly dirty, Lissie.”

Obviously pleased with how Florence had stopped crying and now had the beginnings of a smile playing at her lips, Felicity released her face and grinned, pointing an accusing finger. “I’ve seen the bloke’s shoulders-- nice and broad. Don’t lie to me and tell me you haven’t thought about him above--”

“Felicity Marlowe!” Florence slapped the maid’s arm, stifling a naughty little giggle. There was a wonderful sense of joy in the genuine smile of someone who had just been sobbing. It was their emotion in its rawest form-- walls torn down by the breakdown moments before. Despite her eyes and the red around them, light shone in her pupils eyes again. “Just go and sort me out a bath, please.”

“What? So you can think of all his muscles alone?”

Florence shot her a sharp look but the dimple in her cheek made an appearance, her head shaking. “No.” Then, a playful little smile graced her features and she glanced away briefly. “So I can plan on how I’m going to kiss him.”

Lissie’s grin was proud. “That’s the spirit.”

---

The park she’d been due to meet Willard in was quaint enough, with a little gazebo in the centre that a band played in. It was mid-morning, so the soft chirps of birds accompanied this melody, which calmed Florence’s heart to some degree, she supposed. In the light of the rising sun, it wasn’t difficult to spot Willard’s golden crown of hair. The mottled sun painted gorgeously against tanned skin and, when he heard the small clicks of her footsteps, he turned, green eyes appearing almost icy in the light.

“Dear Florence!” He stood from the bench he’d been sat on and took a few steps towards her. His head bowed and his hand took hers, placing a featherlight kiss upon the back of it. “I hope nothing terrible happened to your brother, hm?”

Florence’s smile was courteous and sweet but the sickness in her stomach remembered Willard and his feelings toward Freddy-- how he planned to use her. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that he was fine.” Willard raised a brow, asking her to elaborate. She did, hooking her arm through his so they could walk together, “He had ripped my favourite dress accidentally and had begun to panic far too much-- the poor sod. Oh, sorry for the language. I’m--”

For once, Willard seemed to smile genuinely, breathing out a laugh. “It’s charming, Florence; you shouldn’t apologise. I have siblings, so I know it’s not always so easy to refer to them nicely.” He had leant into her somewhat to say this, as though it was a little known secret. Much to her own surprise, a little grin tugged at her lips. “If you’d like, I can put some money in toward reparations? I would hate for you not to feel as gorgeous as you always look.”

Here start the compliments again.

“No, it’s fine; I’m unsure on if I’d even fit into it anymore. I’ve had it for far too long so it’s about time I chose another.” Did Florence have actually have a preferred dress? No. She chose all of her dresses because she knew that she’d look good in them. There was no purpose in her having one particular ‘favourite’.

“Well, perhaps you should make the one you’re wearing now your new favourite. If I might say, blue is a beautiful colour on you. It really brings out the paleness of your skin.”

Great. She supposed blue couldn’t be her favourite colour anymore.

Florence’s previous thought that her conversation was going quite swimmingly with Willard, although brief, flew completely out of the window. In an effort to hide her growing grimace, she turned as if to look at the birds in the trees above them. “Thank you, Willard. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They walked in silence for a while, following a path lined with flowers. The quiet was welcome for a time until the realisation that Willard was never quiet for this long hit Florence across the face. She finally shot a glance toward him to find him looking less-than-happy with the world.

“You seem troubled, Willard. Is there something you wish to speak with me about?”

His eyes met hers after a few moments. Then, he gestured for them to sit on the bench just beside the gazebo. “What is your opinion of me, Florence?”

Genuine confusion washed across her expression. “Nothing bad, Willard. You’ve only been nice to me. Why?”

“It’s just that there have been… unsavoury rumours going about with concerns to my intentions with you.” Willard shifted in his seat so that he might hold her hands. Florence allowed him to, upholding that look of bewilderment. “I simply hope for this to be the start of something grander and I would hate for you or your family to think of me in a bad light.”

What did he know? What had he heard?

“What rumours might those be?” The speed of her speech made her seem panicked but, if he had picked up on it, he didn’t comment.

Willard frowned. “After Sergeant Abberline arrested my brother, some people have this sick idea in their minds that I’m out for revenge. What my brother did--” He swallowed, appearing quite disgusted. A terrible feeling began to stir in Florence’s stomach. “What he did was… horrible and I am ashamed to have the same blood as the wretched man.”

Was he lying? He must be. A barrage of doubt slammed into her. Maybe he was being truthful and the note was a set-up of some kind. But, on the other spin of the coin, perhaps he’d noticed he’d lost the note and wanted to cover up his tracks. There was a flashing memory of the look in his eyes when Jacob introduced himself. None of the puzzle pieces were connecting and Florence was beginning to feel quite light-headed.

She blinked once. Then, twice. Her hand came up to tuck a few curled strands of brown behind her ear in an effort to self-comfort. “I have never thought such a thing and nor has Freddy.”

“I’d still feel horrible to just leave it at that; I feel like I must prove that I’m not the creator of some dastardly plan. So,” Was that a shy smile? From Willard? “I’d like to invite you and your brother to dinner at my manor at the end of this week.”

What had she done to the Lord above for Him to invoke such wrath upon her?

Florence felt like her body had frozen, bar the heavy swallow she took. Dinner wouldn’t be… so bad. Yet, there was this pang in her chest that told her that living this double life-- split between being this Florence for Willard and the real Florence to Jacob-- would be her downfall but she felt that she had very few options in the matter.

“That sounds lovely, Willard. I’ll be sure to tell my brother when I return home. Speaking of which--”

“Oh, don’t say you must leave, dear.”

Florence’s lips tugged into a sad smile, patting Willard’s shoulder to comfort him. “-- I must leave to go home. Our maid is due to do the shopping soon and I must go with her; my cat has a very specific diet.”

Willard huffed out a laugh at this and stood up with her. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again this weekend. Do say ‘hello’ to this diva cat of yours from me, too.”

At that, Florence grinned and said her goodbyes. Beneath her, her feet went a little faster than usual.

---

The door was unlocked when she got back, Freddy obviously having forgotten to lock it on his way out to work. As soon as she stood on the creaky floorboard near the entrance, the door closed behind her, Florence let out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing somewhat. She set her little purse down on the little table beside the coat rack but stays there to lean on it for a small while, simply gathering her thoughts.

Her opinion on Willard was much like a metronome; sometimes, he was delightfully charming and today told that he had at least some sense of humour but, other times, he was like the wolf to her rabbit-- ready to consume everything she had ever stood for in a grapple for power. It made her feel weak either way; she didn’t want to kneel for any man.

Her breathing was deep and slow-- an attempt to comfort-- and one of her hands had begun to work on undoing the bun on her crown. Florence had had enough of today and it was barely the afternoon. She would write her parents another letter, read, and wait for Freddy to get home; she didn’t have the emotional energy for much else.

“A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

Florence jumped, all of her muscles tensing in one go to look toward the source of the voice.

There was Jacob, all amused at the sight of Florence so surprised, holding Pride and Prejudice in his hands. “Who knew books could have such profound words? Now I know where your fancy vocabulary comes from.”

Florence, despite her racing heart, laughed softly, shaking her head. With a brow raised, other hand out to ask for the book back, she asked: “How did you get in, Jacob?”

He took a few steps forward, around the lounge chairs, to give her the novel. “That maid of yours-- Lissie, was it?-- let me in just as she was leaving.”

The image of Felicity’s dirty little smile came to the forefront of her mind and Florence bit back a grin. “If Freddy had come home, you’d have been killed.”

“Oh, yes-- because your brother is capable of murdering me.” Jacob narrowed his eyes at her, snark dripping from his voice, and plonked himself down onto the nearest chair, playing with the fabric beneath him. Florence sighed, amused, but said nothing more, going to hang up her shawl. Jacob soon noticed the tension in her movement and the tiredness in her eyes. “What’s got you in a twist, lovely Flor?”

Of course he’d notice. He noticed everything. That feeling arose again when she turned to look at him, concern in those hazel eyes, but she swallowed it. “I met with Willard again today--” The slight frown Jacob adopted was nearly missable, “-- and he’s invited both me and my brother to dinner this weekend.”

He made a mock ‘ooh-la-la’ noise, despite there being a little part of him that hated the whole idea. “Sounds like a date. Perhaps he’s courting you and you don’t even know it.”

“Oh, I know it; he makes it all too obvious. I just don’t want to be… courted.” Florence paused, rolling her shawl in her hands. “Not by him, at least.”

Jacob’s little grin never left but there was something in his eyes as he asked: “Did you have anyone else in mind?”

Blood rocketed through her veins. She could hear it in her ears-- feel her pulse in her neck. Their gazes locked for a moment too long and his expression softened into one reminiscent of the other evening. Florence broke the moment by dragging her eyes away. “The only thing I have on my mind is alcohol; I need to relax.”

“I could help with that.” Briefly, she looked back to him only to be met with a cheeky wink. Her shawl flew through the air and landed on his face, muffling his chuckling.

“You’re terrible, Jacob.” Try as she might, she was unable to keep the dimple in her cheek away, facing away from him for a few moments so he didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her laugh. When Florence finally looked back to him, he was still grinning, now wearing her shawl like a pretty scarf. “You can stay and share some wine, if you’d like--”

“No, no. Certainly not.” He stood up, shuffling around the table to get to her. “Come on.”

She frowned, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going to drink wine and mope at home. If you want to drink, we’re going to go to the pub.”

“Jacob--”

One of his hands were already on the doorknob, tugging the door open. The other he held out toward her like an invitation. “I won’t hear it. It’ll cheer you up.”

Florence bit her cheek, arms crossed beneath her chest, unconvinced.

“I want to see you happy again-- like the other night.”

Felicity’s word from earlier echoed about her head. Jacob did only want to make her happy.

Florence’s resolve broke in the form of a tilt of her head and a little smile. “Fine.” She placed her hand in his and he helped her step out of the door. “You have to give me my shawl back.”

Jacob, closing the door behind him, hummed. “You know what?” The hand that wasn’t holding hers stroked the fabric of the shawl. “I don’t think I want to.”

Her jaw dropped in mock offence and he half-shouted when her hand came up to try to pull the damned thing from his shoulders. “Give it back to me, Jacob; that thing cost me a pound!” Florence’s words came out through laughter, drawing attention to the pair of them from people strewn about the street.

“Alright, alright! I’ll give it back--” She went to grab it again and he leant away. That gooey feeling in his centre returned when she pouted, “-- if you promise to hold my hand on the way there.”

Florence sighed. “People will talk.”

“Damn them.”

She frowned-- thoughtful. Then, honey eyes melded with hazel.

Damn them.

“Deal.” Jacob didn’t have a moment to react when she tugged it off of his shoulders and draped it over her own. “Thank you.”

He stared at her for a little too long, the beginnings of a certain smile curling at his lips. “I think it looks better on you, anyway.”

Florence gave a little grin, unable to keep the red twinge away from her ears.

Their fingers stayed interlocked for the short journey there and Florence, it seemed, had underestimated how much more it made her love him--

Like him.

She only liked him.

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part II - Chapter 6) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Cars, pick-up trucks and SUVs were parked all along the perimeter of the massive crater, the sounds of a boisterous party emanating from the pit. Inside, locals sat on lounge chairs, drinking beers from coolers as they laughed and talked, all the while watching the centre of the crater, where large men had formed a line to take a turn with the mysterious object embedded in the ground.

One by one the men attempted to lift it, struggling before eventually giving up and stepping aside to let the next one have a go at it, as other townies stood on the sidelines and snapped pictures with their phones.

They heard an approaching rumble, then cleared a path as a large pick-up truck backed its way down the crater’s edge. An eager townie hopped out the passenger side and pulled a thick chain down from the back of the truck. He fastened one end around the foreign object, then securely affixed the chain to the bumper and rear of the undercarriage.

“This’ll do it!” he yelled to the driver. “Okay, let ‘er rip!”

The townsfolk looked on as the pick-up’s engine roared, then strained, its wheels spinning futilely, until finally the rear of the truck along with the back wheels and axels broke off and went flying.

People dove out of the way, ducking down for safety as the pick-up driver stuck his head out of the window. The elderly man – with greyed hair styled back and aviator glasses on his face – looked back, shocked. A silent moment, then the townsfolk laughed as the party recommenced.

They didn’t notice as on the crater’s edge above them an imposing government vehicle pulled up to a stop. A man in a suit climbed out and peered down at the boisterous gathering below, his eyes fixed on the object at the centre of the crater.

Agent Coulson stared down at the object, which glowed with an otherworldly blue energy – Mjolnir. He pulled out his phone.

“Sir, we’ve found it.”

✧ ✧ ✧

S.H.I.E.L.D HQ. Washington, D.C.

“Good. We’ll move in immediately,” The Director spoke into his cellphone, pacing the length of his office toward the window overlooking the city; you stood behind the sofa, clutching the backrest with a tight grip as you kept your gaze steeled on your godfather, trying to listen as closely as you could, “I want a camp set up by sundown.”

Fury lowered the phone from his ear and disconnected the call, turning around to look at you. He raised one brow as he pocketed the device. “Looks like your cousin brought a little piece of home with him,” he chided, causing you to exhale loudly, “Any idea what it could be?”

“Are you forgetting that I didn’t know shit about Asgard until last year? I have no idea how things work over there,” you sassed, pursing your lips and lifting your hands from the backrest. “My guess is as good as anybody’s. It could literally be anything.”

Choosing to ignore the subtle jabs at himself and S.H.I.E.L.D hidden in your words, Fury folded his hands behind his back and raised his head a small amount.

“If I’m not mistaken – which I never am – Doctor Ross mentioned something about a… hammer?… that Thor never goes without. You think it could be that?”

Recalling the conversation that Fury was referring to, you nodded in agreement. “Mjolnir? Yeah, could be. I mean, he definitely wasn’t lugging around a hammer when we saw him, so it’s a possibility.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, stressfully combing your fingers through your tangled hair; you’d been so out of sorts lately that you’d even forgotten to brush the nest on your head that morning.

Picking up on your standoffish attitude, your godfather posed a question.

“What’s bugging you, sweetie?”

You’d expected that question to arise sooner or later, but your awareness didn’t dampen the arrival of it at all. Raising your brows, you slowly darted your eyes all around the room, shaking your head as you did so.

“I just…” you shrugged, “This is all too much. I can’t-“

With a small pant for air, you shut your eyes and held your head in your hands, which resulted in The Director hurrying forward to talk you down from any potential panic attacks that threatened to arise.

Letting him coax you out of your overwhelmed state, you took a seat on the sofa and rested your palms on your knees, leaning forward slightly.

“It’s been one major thing after another,” you remarked once he’d finished speaking, “My parents, Hydra, Brendon…” you trailed off, solemnly staring out of the window for a moment as your thoughts betrayed you by drifting off to your bodyguard; fortunately it only lasted a couple seconds, before you turned to face Fury, “And now this? Can’t I ever catch a break?”

“Welcome to my world,” he wheezed, placing a hand around your shoulders as he slinked into place next to you on the sofa. “But you’re strong, sweetie. One helluva survivor. You’ll make it through this – and any other pains in the ass that might come your way. But it’s no use hiding; this is something you gotta face, and you’re the only one who can do it – not for me, not for any of us, but for you.”

Your response didn’t come immediately; you allowed time for your godfather’s words to properly sink in and weave their way into your fragile mind. He was absolutely right about everything he had said, and you knew it, too. Which meant that you also knew that the first step in eradicating the problem you were faced with, was to contain it.

“We can’t let this go public, Uncle Nick,” you said carefully after a few minutes, giving him only the feeblest of glances.

“You’re telling me?” he scoffed, cocking the eyebrow above his one good eye, “Sweetie, why the hell do you think we’ve kept you a secret from everyone? Can you imagine the chaos it would cause? If the public found out that actual Norse gods were among us?”

Gently chewing on your bottom lip, you voiced your concern. “I’m afraid that there’re some people who are very close to finding out just that.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Isabela’s Diner.

Thor, Selvig, Darcy, Aaron and Jane sat at a table in the local diner; the two doctors and the intern watched as Thor ate ravenously from a huge mound of steak and eggs. A couple other full plates – pancakes and biscuits and gravy – were piled high before the god. Jane sat eagerly, her notebook at the ready.

“Now tell us exactly what happened to you last night,” she interrogated.

Thor looked up and into her eyes, staring in intrigue. Jane became flustered and looked away.

“Maybe start with how you got inside that cloud,” she tried again, this time keeping her gaze slightly lowered.

“And how you could eat an entire box of Pop-Tarts and still be this hungry,” Darcy added, marvelling at the appetite of the man. Jane shot her a withering look, whole Thor downed an entire cup of coffee in one go.

“This drink,” Thor looked at the empty mug, “I like it.”

“Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?” Darcy grinned. “Isabela makes the best coffee in town.”

Thor hurled the mug at the ground, shattering it into a hundred tiny porcelain pieces. “Another!” he demanded.

The ruckus captured the attention of Isabela, the diner’s proprietor, and she glared at Thor from behind the counter.

Jane turned to toss her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Izzy. Little accident.”

Isabela muttered something in Spanish as a response before turning to a waitress and venting quickly, also in Spanish. (“Did you see that? The first time she brings a man in here, and he’s a lunatic!”)

“What was that?” Jane demanded, gazing expectantly at Thor.

He didn’t understand.

“It was delicious,” he stated simply. “I want another.”

“Then you should just say so!”

“I just did!”

“I mean ask for it. Nicely.”

“I meant no disrespect.”

“All right, then no more smashing, deal?”

“You have my word.”

Satisfied, Jane leaned back and nodded once. “Good.”

A few townies, looking bedraggled, entered the diner and took a seat at the counter; they were amongst the men who had tried (and failed) to lift Mjolnir out of the crater. Isabela greeted them by name, and they ordered two coffees.

“You missed all the excitement out at the crater,” the one Izzy had called Jake spoke.

“What crater?” she frowned.

Aaron, Selvig and Jane overheard Jake’s words and after exchanging a look, all turned to the townies with interest.

“They’re saying some kind of satellite crashed in the desert,” the one named Pete explained.

“We were having a good time with it till the Feds showed up, chased us out,” Jake grumbled, slurping some coffee.

“Excuse me,” Jane interjected, “Did you say there was a satellite crash?”

“Yep,” Jake nodded, “They said it was radioactive. And I had my hands all over it.” Realisation dawned on him, then, and he looked down at his hands uneasily. “I’m probably sterile now…”

Thor, unconcerned, prepared to dig into the giant pile of pancakes. Darcy was amazed by the sight and whipped out her cellphone.

“Oh my god, this is going on Facebook. Smile!”

Thor looked puzzled as she snapped a photo of him and his massive stack of food.

“What did the satellite look like?” Aaron asked the townies; Jake answered.

“I don’t know nothing about satellites. But it was heavy. Real heavy. Nobody could lift it.”

This got Thor’s attention and he immediately sprung to his feet, headed over to drunk townie Jake and jerked him around to face him.

“Where?” the god demanded.

“About twelve miles east of here,” a slightly shaky Jake replied.

Thor grinned widely, his spirits soaring, as he quickly strode out of the diner. Once outside, he studied the position of the sun, gauging his bearings. The rest of the group caught up to him moments later.

“Where are you going?” Jane asked.

“Twelve miles east of here.” Thor started to stride down the street purposefully; Jane and Aaron walked after him.

“Why?” Aaron queried, picking up his pace a little bit.

“To get what belongs to me,” Thor said determinedly.

“So now you own a satellite?” Jane scoffed, tossing him a disbelieving look.

“It’s not what they say it is.”

“Whatever it is, the government seems to think it’s theirs. You intend to just walk in there and take it?”

“Yes.” Thor stopped walking. “If you take me there now, I’ll tell you everything you wish to know.”

Aaron perked up, the doctor in him coming out, and Jane did the same.

“Everything?”

“All the answers you seek will be yours, once I reclaim Mjolnir.”

Aaron sucked in a harsh breath at the mention of Mjolnir – fully aware of what Thor was talking about – as Darcy looked to the others, scrunching up her face. “’Myeu-muh?’ What’s ‘Myeu-muh’?”

Ignoring her, Jane studied Thor. He looked sincere and she was almost swayed to give into him, but then Selvig pulled her aside. Thor watched as the doctor spoke to Jane, and he could tell that Selvig didn’t care for him much.

With Darcy standing to the side and struggling with the new, Asgardian word and Jane and Selvig engaged in a heated discussion, Aaron took the opportunity to step up to the god.

“Mjolnir?” he spoke in a hushed tone, “As in your mythical hammer? It’s here?”

Thor nodded in confirmation. “It appears so.” The god narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he observed the smaller man. “You seem to know quite a lot about Asgard, Aaron Jacobson.”

Aaron pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and waved a hand. “I specialise in Asgardian mythology.”

“So you are able to help me retrieve Mjolnir!” Thor’s face lit up.

The doctor’s face dropped, and his eyes widened in panic. “What? No, no, no, I didn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you heard what the townie said,” Aaron gestured back at the diner, “The government has already claimed it.”

“Ah, so you are a coward.”

“What?! No! I just-“

“I’m sorry,” Jane cut him off, re-joining the conversation and focusing on Thor, “I can’t take you.”

Thor bowed his head slightly. “I understand. Then this is where we say goodbye.”

He took her hand and kissed it, making her entire body flush.

“That’s…” she started, “Thank you.”

The god looked to each of the members of the group and gave each a small bow. “Jane Foster… Erik Selvig… Aaron Jacobson… Darcy. Farewell.”

He turned and headed off down the street. Selvig breathed out, relieved. “Now…” the doctor said, “lets get back to the lab. We have work to do.”

He and Darcy started for the car and after stealing once last look at the strange man, Jane turned and join them, leaving Aaron to stare at the god as he walked down the street with a worrisome face, his gut feeling telling him that things were undoubtedly about to take a turn for the worst.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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[gimmesumsuga]

Sweeter than Sweet (46)

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader, Taehyung x reader + others as the story progresses

Warnings: Mild violence, dirty talk, sleepy morning sex

Word count: 4.1K

Previous / Next

You swear you can't have been in the bathroom more than ten or fifteen minutes getting yourself ready for bed, but apparently those ten or fifteen were too long, because when you step back into Yoongi's room the boy’s already fast asleep.  The pang of disappointment you feel at missing out on the chance for intimacy only lasts for a second or two, because it's impossible to focus on anything other than just how sweet he looks lying there butt naked on the bed, his eyes closed and breathing slow.  He didn't even make it under the covers; so tired he’d just curled himself up in a ball with one arm tucked under his pillow.

How long had he actually been awake before he’d crashed?  You know it’s not unlike Yoongi to pull an all-nighter when he's engrossed in something, so this might well be the first time he's shut his eyes in days.  With that in mind, you try to be extra quiet as you approach the bed, gingerly pulling back the covers and repressing a soft laugh when your eyes land on various bits of paper and pens that he'd obviously forgotten were in there.  

You collect all the papers up, almost failing to realise until it’s actually in your hand that amongst them is the page you'd seen him writing on in the kitchen; the page he'd torn out and crumpled up when you'd argued.  You'd presumed he'd thrown it away but here it is, and though it's still slightly creased you can tell Yoongi must’ve tried the smooth it out and salvage it once he'd calmed down.  It looks like it's gotten longer, too, more lines of his slightly untidy scrawl following on from the rest of the indecipherable characters above.   You wish you could know what it says but finding out would require waking him, and you can’t bare to do that - not yet - so putting curiosity aside you settle for placing it all the floor next to his laptop, smiling to yourself.  It means a lot to you that he'd kept it even when he was angry.  Surely that’s a sign of how much he really does care for you?

You climb into bed next to him, taking one last sneaky look at his body before pulling the sheets up and over both of you, relieved when he doesn't stir.  You rest there for a while, lying on your side facing him, and it’s nice to be able to enjoy being staring as much as you want without the fear of being caught out doing it, though the longer you look the stronger your urge becomes to touch him.  It's almost all-consuming, this desire to feel his skin on yours, and after a shamefully small amount of silent debate you start to undress yourself, slipping off your pyjamas under the covers and tossing them onto the ever growing pile next to the bed till you're just as naked as he is and slightly breathless at just the thought of lying together so intimately.  

Carefully you shuffle closer, inch by inch, till you're near enough that your bodies are almost touching.  You move down the bed until you're low enough to tuck your head under Yoongi’s chin, your cheek resting against his cool skin, chests pressed together, and it's only when you place your arm over him that he stirs even slightly.  He mumbles something and then copies your gesture, his arm draping over your hip and pulling you closer to him in his sleep and your heart flutters with happiness in response.  It feels like heaven to have him hold you like this, to know such peaceful contentment in his arms.  

Does he feel the same way as you do, you wonder? You can't help but muse about if his heart could beat whether it'd be galloping just as hard as yours is now, or whether he too is holding back from saying the same ‘I love you’s’.  Sometimes you think you can see it in Yoongi’s eyes when he looks at you - unspoken but there all the same - but what if you're wrong?  What if you're just projecting what you feel onto him and imagining this to be more than it is?  

You nuzzle closer to his chest, inhaling his cool, crisp scent as your eyes close and your arm tightens its hold around his slim frame.  Whatever this might be with you and Yoongi, and however complicated it might be, all you can think about as you swiftly fall asleep is how you don't ever want it to end.  

**

His lips are on your neck, pressing featherlight kisses from the angle of your jaw to the slope of your shoulder and leaving goosebumps in his wake as he goes.  His hands trail down your arms, barely touching until they settle on your hips to halt the tremble that was running through you.  

“Open your eyes, little one.” Namjoon’s voice is like silk as it drifts into your ear, his visage magnificent as he stands behind you, holding your gaze captive in the mirror.  He smirks at your gasp of surprise, keeping his eyes fixed on yours as he lowers his mouth to your neck to suck on delicate skin your collar would usually cover and litters you with his own marks of possession.  His hands leave your hips, gliding up your naked stomach to cup your breasts, and he rolls them gently in his palms as you watch, transfixed, while a little voice in your mind that’s far too easily silenced wonders how on earth you ended up in this place.    

“You're lying to yourself,” he whispers into you, toying with your nipples that'd hardened so instantly under his touch.  It feels so good that your back arches into him; a second, haggard gasp leaving your lips that Namjoon laughs on hearing.  “Look at the way your body gives into me so willingly.”  His hands leave your breasts to slide down between your bodies, grasping your inner thighs from behind to pull your legs apart and force you to widen your stance.  Arousal is glistening at the entrance to your core, smeared all over your thighs.  “Look at that and tell me you don't want me.”  

You can’t.  You'd be lying through your teeth if you did.  Your core is aching already, craving the touch that you’ve felt so briefly from him once before.  This time you won't ask him to stop; you won't push him away.

Namjoon's hand snakes between your legs from behind, his fingers sliding between your folds as you whimper with humiliation and pleasure, your whole body hot and flushed for the both of you to see in the mirror if only you were able to open your eyes.

“Tell me you don't want me to make you cum on my fingers.”  He sinks two inside of you, slipping them back and forth until you're reaching up and back in search of his hair just for something to hold onto, twisting your fingers in it as he pulls the most wanton of sounds from your lips.  He lets you grab and tug, growling so soft that it's almost a purr, the sound travelling straight between your legs and adding to your pleasure.  

It feels so good - the way he fucks you with his long, powerful fingers - but just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build Namjoon cruelly withdraws them only to deliver them to your mouth a moment later.  He forces them past your lips to make you taste yourself, biting his plush bottom lip as he watches.

“Tell me you don't want me to fuck you.”  You automatically suck on his fingers, sloppy slurping sounds coming from your mouth as they move in and out and you remove any trace of where his hand has just been.

His eyes just seem to grow darker the longer that he watches you, sending a shiver down a spine that if you were smarter you’d probably take as a warning. But no, you stand there like a willing doll in his hands, letting Namjoon grab savagely at your breast and bruise your neck.  What will Jimin say when he sees these marks, you wonder?  

The longer he continues the more his expression seems to change, morphing into something harsher, his eyes narrowing and his lips pulling back till his fangs are almost showing.

“Go on, tell me!” he practically yells, a sharp contrast to the soft honey his word were before, echoing off the empty studio walls.  

He spins you on the spot, hands clasped around your forearms as he glowers down at you, seemingly enraged by your lack of reply and now so frightening in appearance that it steals your breath away.

His large hand is wraps around your throat suddenly, squeezing lightly, at first, but then slowly growing tighter.  He cocks his head to the side as he watches your eyes widen with fright whilst he plays with your airway by tightening and loosening his grip in turn, all the while mocking you with that dimpled smile.  

You try to speak now, you do, but nothing will come out; only raspy gasped breaths that say nothing and only serve to make Namjoon chuckle whilst your vision starts to spot and blur black and white.  

“Tell me you don't long for this.”  He tilts his chin down, baring his fangs, and now his eyes are a dark, bloody red, and your heart is beating ten times too fast in both panic and desperation.  “What's that, little one?” he asks as he starts to dip his head, clenching his fist even tighter around your neck, “I can't hear you.”

**

You wake with a gasp and covered in a cold, clammy sweat, your wide eyes roving wildly around Yoongi’s room as you instinctively look for danger, the events of your dream still all too fresh in your mind.  There’s nothing - of course there’s nothing - but that doesn’t seem to make it any easier for you to breathe or ease the frantic pounding of your heart. It’s like you can still feel Namjoon’s hand wrapped around your throat, closing off your windpipe to slowly choke the life from you, and when you close your eyes you can almost see his sadistic smile still leering down at you.

Impulsively you touch your neck, ignoring the voice in your head that’s mocking you for doing so, and it’s only once you’ve done so that your state of blind panic gradually starts to subside.  Even calmer, though, the collar which usually sits so comfortably around your neck suddenly feels far too tight - too restrictive - and without a second thought you’re pulling it off and throwing it carelessly to the floor, sighing in relief once it's gone.  Finally, it feels like you can breathe.  

You sag into the mattress once your body starts to relax, shutting your eyes to fully enjoy the feel of your lungs expanding with each deep, cleansing breath you take.  You're calmer again now, able to reassure yourself that it was just a dream and nothing more.  The combination of events from the prior evening in addition to Jimin’s warnings must have affected you more than you thought to have leaked into your dreams so vividly, but it was just a dream - simply a product of your overactive imagination - and though your relationship with Namjoon continues to be tumultuous at best you truly doubt he would ever harbour any murderous intent towards you.  He might well be troubled but there’s good in him still, you know there is.  

Yours and Yoongi’s body have changed position whilst you slumbered, and now you’re settled again you can appreciate just how nice to feels to have him lying behind you, spooning you, his arms wrapped so tightly around your body.  It reminds you of the first time you’d ever spent the night together except that this time there are no layers of clothes to interfere with the press of your bodies or the brushing of your skin.  He’s clinging to you even whilst he sleeps, his frame molded entirely to yours, and if it weren’t for his perma-cool body temperature it’d probably be stifling to have him curled around you so.  As it is, it feels wonderful, and his presence helps to further ground you after your nightmare; the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest soothing you too.  

You’ve no way of knowing the time - there are no windows or clocks within sight - but it matters very little anyway seeing as you can’t seem to get back to sleep.  You’re too unsettled, too full of adrenaline even now the ‘danger’ has passed, and no matter how long you lie with your eyes closed sleep remains elusive.  You end up telling yourself just to make the most of the quiet intimacy with Yoongi you’ve been gifted with while it lasts to pass the time.  You can’t imagine Jimin granting his permission for this too often, not with how reluctant he seemed for you to leave earlier.  

Is he lying there in bed just as awake as you are now?  Is he missing the weight of your head on his chest as you sleep?  You feel a stab of remorse as you imagine it, once again wondering just what you ever did to deserve someone like Jimin.  He always puts you first, always, despite any of his own reservations or discomfort, though you know if he’d truly have had any issue with you being here he would’ve put his foot down and refused - like he does whenever the subject turns to Namjoon.  It’s that thought that helps to chase some of the guilt you feel and makes you more able to accept the soft kiss that’s suddenly pressed against your shoulder with little more than a contented sigh.  

“Morning, princess,” Yoongi croaks into your ear, kissing its curve as his body shifts behind you, drawing you in closer to him.  The rasp of his voice on waking makes his low drawl sound even more alluring than usual, and you happily tip your head to give him open access to your shoulders and neck, hoping he’ll take advantage and continue lavishing you with slow, tantalising kisses.  “What a sight to wake up to you are.”

“Hmm.. hideous, I know,” you muse, smiling and squeaking playfully when Yoongi nips on your earlobe.  

“Behave,” he scolds.  Yoongi’s one hand to finds its way into your hair, gently running his fingers through it whilst his other travels the span of your stomach and hips, caressing and kneading your flesh as he goes.  “You’re gorgeous, gongjunim; a goddess.”  You can’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes behind your eyelids.

“And you’re a flatterer.”  

“Never,” Yoongi disagrees gruffly, but you can feel the smile on his lips when he presses to the blade of your shoulder.  He clearly means to carry on where you left off last night; you can feel his erection growing with every kiss, and when you push out your behind encouragingly he flexes his hips, grinding it against you with a low, lustful growl.  “Where did all your clothes go, hmm?” He’s trailing wet kisses along your shoulder, his hand travelling up from your hip to cup your breast and squeeze it as his hips roll again, a soft sigh escaping you.

Your desire for him is growing with every second that passes, a delicious heat steadily growing in your pelvis.  It has you reaching behind you to hold onto him, trying to drag his body closer even though you know it’s not possible, and you hear Yoongi chuckle quietly at your all too obvious need.  It’s not as though you can help it; it feels like forever since you last had him inside you and your body is more than ready already, wetness smearing on your thighs as they rub together.  

“You’re not wearing your collar…”  He must’ve only just realised the full extent of your nakedness because all of a sudden Yoongi stops kissing your throat, pulling his arm out from under you enough to prop himself up on his elbow, looking down at you with an expression you can’t read.  It’s the first time you’ve seen his face since you woke up, and even though it unsettles you not knowing quite what he’s thinking you still end up smiling at the cute little kink in his hair from where it’s been mussed overnight by his pillows.  Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice though; his eyes are too busy roving the length of your neck, his tongue poking out to wet his lips.  “He fed from you last night?”  

Slowly you nod, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as your hand covers the freshly scabbed over puncture marks Jimin had left on your throat.  Although you cover them quickly Yoongi snatches your hand away just as fast, grabbing you by the wrist and pinning your arm above your head as you gasp in surprise.  He leans over you again, mouth latching onto your neck with a renewed fervour and groaning as he pushes his length along the valley of your buttocks.  

For a second you think he’s going to start feeding on you too, so possessed does he seem, but rather than piercing your skin Yoongi starts sucking at it, hard, and you realise he’s leaving his mark too, side by side with Jimin’s.  God, how you wish he’d bite you; your body is screaming for that almost as much as it is for him to take you, and soon you’re writhing underneath him, whimpering as he leaves another hickey next to the first, still pinning you down with a strength he shouldn’t possess.  

“Yoongi, please,” you plead, contorting your body in search of more friction, “Please don’t tease me.”  

“Tell me you want me,” he breathes, lifting his head from your throat to skim his mouth along your jaw, his nose nuding at your cheek as his hips roll.  He’s so hard, the tip of his cock smearing pre-cum into the curve where your back gradually turns into the smooth, rounded swell of your buttocks.  “How much you need me.”  

“So much, Yoongi, baby, please.”  You feel no shame at how breathless you are or the whine present in your voice - not when your words prove so effective.  Yoongi lets go of your hands to lift your upper thigh slightly, keeping you on your side whilst he leans over you as though you were on your back.  His movements are a little frantic, clearly as eager for this as you are, a frown knitting his eyebrows as he bites his lip and guides his cock into position, parting your soaking wet folds with the head and then pausing.  

He looks down at you, a sudden clarity to his lust darkened eyes that’d been so hazy just a moment ago, his chest rising and falling as he holds himself in place at your entrance.  It’s some kind of sweet agony, to have him so near yet so far, your insides aching with the need to be filled.  You reach out to him, his arm the only thing near enough to touch, and you trail your fingers down it slowly, trying so hard to be patient even though it’s practically killing you.  You know why he’s doing it; he wants to savour the moment, wants to watch you come undone for him, and you can’t really blame him for that.  Those three words are sitting like a lump in your throat again, begging to be set free, and it’s only Yoongi starting to slowly enter you that morphs your opening ‘I’ into long, languid groan of pleasure rather than a confession.

He pushes inside so slowly, stretching you open inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside and then pauses again, the corners of his lips curving into the smallest of smiles when you open your eyes and look up at him.  He’s giving you that look again; the one that makes you think he might feel the same, his every feature softened with affection as he starts to move inside you.  

“God,” he groans, his eyes falling closed as he steadily rocks himself in and out of you, his long cock pushing in so deep that you’re moaning with almost every thrust.  Lying on your side means that he’s brushing against your g-spot almost every time he enters you and even this leisurely pace feels incredible, and though Yoongi doesn’t say any awful lot as your bodies move in sync you feel as though he really doesn’t need to.  You can tell simply by the look on his face how good it’s feeling to be inside you; the way his head tilts back, his mouth parted just enough to see the pink of his tongue.  

“Yoongi,” you moan softly, arching your back to angle his thrusts even more perfectly than before, “Feels so, so good…”   He ‘mmms’ his agreement, continuing his slow and steady pace, his eyes still closed like he’s trying to memorise every little detail of how it feels to have your warm, wet walls wrapped around him, one hand supporting his weight, the other travelling restlessly over the rest of your body, caressing every inch of skin he can find.  

You’ve no idea how long the two of you stay locked like that, enjoying the slow, sweaty grind of your bodies, but eventually Yoongi pushes himself a little more upright and manipulates your uppermost leg to lie vertically against his chest, toes pointed to the ceiling, watching you closely for any signs of discomfort.  Granted, it’s not the most comfortable of positions, but once you give him a subtle nod and Yoongi begins to move again, harder than before, you can see why he did it.  Like this his cock reaches even deeper, and the orgasm he’d been slowly working you towards is suddenly hurtling towards you at breakneck speed, pleasure like white hot fire growing and spreading in your pelvis.  

You’re pushing back against him, flexing your hips to chase after his cock each time he withdraws it and mewling when Yoongi suddenly slowly down again only minutes later, panting hard.  He grabs onto your hips, trying to halt the way you’re writhing around on end of his cock, the length of it throbbing inside you.  

“Stop, gongjunim,” he begs brokenly, sweat dripping from his brow, “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.”  You purposefully clench your walls around him, lifting your arms above your head and grabbing at the pillow, unable to keep yourself still no matter how hard he’s holding onto you, too close to your orgasm to want to stop now.

“Keep going,” you gasp, breasts bouncing as you fuck yourself on his cock, “Please, Yoongi, I’m so close, keep going.  Cum with me.”   You hear him growl a curse and then he’s shoving your leg off his chest and flipping you onto your back to begin slamming into you with abandon, the sounds of slapping skin mixing with the groans spilling from both of you.  He’s got his face pressed into your neck, his hands linked with yours atop of the pillow and his hips pistoning back and forth as he drives you both unrelentingly toward your high.

“Shit, oh my god.”  You feel his cock twitch and start to pulse as he cums with a stilted moan, finally letting himself go.  His grip on your hands tightens, and as you feel his warm cum spill out inside of you you finish too, your back arching from the bed as you cry out for him, mind blissfully blank for just those few seconds of ecstasy.  

Yoongi’s already kissing you by the time your mind and body fall back into sync.  His hands have moved to cup your face and he’s kissing you so tenderly, so softly, letting you slip your tongue inside his mouth to seek out his as your arms wrap around his waist.  This, too, goes on for what feels like forever, neither of you in any hurry to separate your bodies any sooner than absolutely necessary, but eventually Yoongi does pull away - though not by far.  He keeps the tips of your noses touching, his eyes flicking between yours as a smile graces his lips, his thumb grazing your cheek.  

“My beautiful princess...” he murmurs wistfully, “You’ve really no idea what you do to me.”  

[golddaggers]

Crazy In Love

pairings: stiles x reader; lydia x reader.

warnings: fingering, masturbation (female and male receiving), oral sex (female and male receiving), sex, cursing, slightly daddy kink and mostly NSFW +18. if you’re under eighteen, don’t tell your parents.

a/n: well, this was a first, so I truly hope y'all enjoy it!

word count: 5,2k+

Notebooks, pens, books and bags were all scattered across my room’s big desk as my best friend, Lydia Martin, tried to explain to me a math exercise I had no idea how I should solve. She had her long strawberry blonde hair up in a messy bun, her green eyes sparkling with excitement whilst babbling how I should divide the square x to turn into something I didn’t quite know. To be honest, I was a bit lost; not because she was a bad teacher, but due to my mind constantly going straight to my very handsome boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski.

We had been together for almost six months now and I was incredibly happy to be with him. He was adorably caring, understanding, a perfect gentleman! Stiles fulfilled every single detail I could ever dream in a partner. Without sounding like a complete dork, he was truly my soulmate, which might misguide you to think we don’t have problems; it isn’t true. There was one very embarrassing thing that was bothering me a lot lately: sex. More specifically, the lack of it.

At first, it was all perfect; I mean, damn, Stilinski! He has a way with those pretty lips of his that gets my legs all wobbly and, man, don’t even get me started on the rest. We had an undeniable chemistry, yet, in the last month, he apparently lost the interest in me. Also, it wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to get the brown haired man to notice I wanted to go further than our heated make out sessions… Nevertheless, Stiles seemed to have developed an immunity to my seduction tactics. Or, maybe, I just wasn’t good at turning him on as I thought I was. Yes, that was probably it.

An annoyed sigh left my lips as I dropped my pen on the desk, leaning back against the cushioned chair. Lydia, due to my sudden actions, quickly stopped talking to glare at me confused, her arms tightly crossed against her chest.

“What is wrong with you?” She quizzed, one of her small hands touching my knee. “You have been acting weird all day long…”

“Uh, it’s nothing.” I shook my head effusively, knowing perfectly already that she wouldn’t buy my answer.

“Come on, we’re friends. Tell me!”

“No, Lyds. It's… It’s embarrassing.” Biting my bottom lip, I lowered my gaze to the floor, feeling a flush spread across my cheeks. “Let’s just go back to math.”

“Is it between you and Stiles?” The blonde cocked one of her eyebrows, curiosity infused on her traits. “It is, isn’t it?”

“If I say it is, will you quit it?”

“We both know I won’t. Just spill the beans, please!”

“Fine. It’s not really a big deal, well, sort of, but I, I think Stiles doesn’t find me attractive any more.”

Lydia stared at me seriously for a split second before breaking down into a cheerful laughter, her digits sliding up my thigh, which, by the way, was making me a little bit nervous. Moving uncomfortably on my seat, I frowned; there was nothing funny on what said, why the hell was she like that?

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re silly!” The girl rolled her eyes, smiling gently at me afterwards. “Of course he finds attractive. You’re his girlfriend and, believe me, there’s no way he wouldn’t think you’re hot.”

“Really?”

“Trust me, you’re gorgeous and he’s probably just worried with the things that’s going on.”

“You think so?”

The girl nodded, giving me a playful wink, then returning to her books. I licked my suddenly dry lips; she was right. I just didn’t know how to crack my partner back to me. That was it. Maybe… Oh! A wide smile grew in my lips whilst I moved forward to poke Lydia on the shoulder.

If there was anyone who could help me getting into someone’s pants, that someone was Lydia Martin. She was simply skilful on getting what she wanted, no matter how hard it was: plus, let’s be honest, that beautiful woman was a lot more experienced than I was. No doubt in that, actually.

“Can you help me?”

“Help you with what, darling?”

“You know… Seducing him. Maybe my kiss is boring or I’m a bad kisser, I don’t know. He tolerated at first but now he doesn’t want it any more.”

“Well, I don’t you think you are a bad kisser, but if you are so desperate, show me.”

“Show you? Do you mean, like, kissing you?” My eyes were wide to her proposal, my mouth slightly parted in shock. Was my best friend indeed asking for me to kiss her? “Are you serious?”

“Yes. It’s not a big deal, Y/N, plus, it’s not like I haven’t kissed girls before.”

“B-But-”

The strawberry blonde woman did not let me finish, instead, she pressed her soft pink lips on mine, her lip gloss smudging both of our faces. I was completely astounded to even react, but, hell, although it was wrong, because, technically, I was cheating on my boyfriend, it felt incredibly good; her hands cupped my cheeks as Lydia licked my bottom lip, the girl’s warm tongue pushing inside my mouth with ease. I felt like my whole form was being lit on fire.

In the end, I surrendered to her overwhelming touch, replying her fond action with an unknown hunger. To be honest, my whole head was fuzzy due to the growing desire within me. The woman’s hair fell from the bun, framing beautifully her flawless face, when I stuck my digits on her hair, pulling it lightly. She, after air became necessary, broke the contact, descending to suck on my neck, moaning lowly against my skin; this was such a huge rush, I had no strength to deny it. My entire body was pulsating, excited.

Her hands found the hem of my shirt, stealthily sneaking inside, making me shudder. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Of course the thought had ran across my mind once, maybe twice, but, until now, I never thought I’d feel this tingly for a girl, let alone my best friend.

“L-Lyds-” I managed to blurt out, a little before her hands found the hook of my bra. “What are we doing?”

“I’m proving you’re a good kisser.” Lydia whispered, unclasping the hook and freeing my breasts. “And a few other things too.”

“Don’t you think this is wrong?”

“No, no at all.” Her palms were now cupping my breasts, her fingers pinching at my hardened nipples. “Consider this as a teaching class.”

“How is you touching me like that, oh fuck, teaching me how to seduce Stiles?”

“I never said this had that purpose.”

At leisure, Lydia got rid of my tank top, allowing my breasts to bounce free in front of her. Fuck, the second she pierced her burning green eyes on me, I felt like the hottest thing in the world. And from that point on, I knew I would let her do anything she wanted to me. No matter what the consequences would be.

She kissed my stomach, exploring every inch she could until her lips wrapped around my right peak, her smoothness getting me all worked up. My nails scratched the back of her neck, which caused her to wince at the minor pain, but, either way, it didn’t stop her tongue from swirling around the sensitive spot. I could already feel my hips moving, seeking friction.

Upon noticing how uncomfortable I was, Lydia pulled away with pop, earning thwarted whine from me; the woman solely smirked to the sound I made, quickly starting to unbutton the denim shorts I had on. Whilst rolling them to pool by my ankles, I felt the butterflies gathering at the pit of my stomach, all pretty ready to riot due to what was happening.

“P-Please, Lydia.” I stammered, buckling forwards, trying to get her face where I needed her. “I-I need it.”

“Didn’t you say it was wrong?” Lydia quizzed, her fingers playing with the waistband of my laced underwear; I simply bit my lip, sliding forward on the chair to get closer to the knelt figure of my friend. “Poor baby, you want me to take care of you so badly, don’t you?”

“I do.” The whisper was barely audible, yet, it imbued Martin to brush her digits on my already wet entrance. “Fuck…”

Being extra delicate on her movements, the gorgeous woman pushed my knickers to one side, finally freeing my wet core. Upon seeing me so vulnerable, a delighted hum fell from her lips; then, amazing me with how smooth she was, the girl slided one of her fingers inside my throbbing pussy, her thumb circling slowly around my swollen nub. The pleasure made me throw my head back, moaning her name a couple of times.

My first thought was that she handled me, uh, a bit different than Stiles; normally he would be a little more straight to the business, not much teasing. Nonetheless, they were both pretty good at going down on someone. Matter fact, my entire form reacted to my imagination picturing them both working their way on me.

Her digits faced no problem to slip in and out of me and they were going at such a fast pace my mind went blank a few times. However, nothing had prepared me to see her gluing her perfectly shaped lips on my clit, slurping at it like it was the most delicious sweet in the shop.

“Shit, Lyds. That’s so good, don’t stop…”

I gripped at each side of the chair I was sitting, my jaw clenched as I tried to suppress the sighs that insisted on escaping, but it was useless. The more she mercilessly used her tongue against me, more the coil on my lower stomach got closer and closer to bursting.

Right when I was about to lose myself in an incredible orgasm, my room’s door was unexpectedly swung open, revealing the pale frame of my handsome boyfriend, his cheeks flushing once he realised what was happening. I tensed up, closing my legs on my friend’s face, not knowing exactly what I should do now.

“Shit, sorry.” He slammed the door shut, only to open it again a few seconds later. “Actually, I’m not sorry. You’re my girlfriend. What the hell is going on here?”

Lydia was still on her knees when she span to look at Stiles, who, by the way, had an adorable angry face on. I swallowed thickly, kicked the pieces of clothing by my ankles, then stood up, a bit embarrassed that I had been caught fucking the girl I called friend. This was definitely not how things were supposed to go down.

“Baby…”

“You and… Lydia?” He muttered, his arms crossed over his chest, showing off his toned muscles. I cupped his cheeks, getting his honey coloured eyes to connect with mine. “Why?”

“Because she thinks you don’t want to fuck her, that’s why.” The strawberry blonde replied, pouting, as she went back to her feet, standing beside me. “I was just making sure my friend knows-”

“Lydia!”

Stiles directed me a confused glare, not getting why was the girl saying those stuff when I myself hadn’t brought it up on one of our late night conversations. Me and Stiles were proud to be the kind of couple that shared everything that went across our minds, knowing the other would be on board of changing to make things work. But this? I couldn’t tell him that. I felt ashamed and embarrassed.

The brown haired boy placed his large hands on my waistline, thumbs massaging my bare skin, pushing me into feeling jitters running throughout my body. It isn’t the right time to be turned on, Y/N, I heard my mind telling me. Either way, I couldn’t help it. This must be the wrongest day on my entire life.

“Why would you think that?”

“Y-You didn’t want to, you know, and I thought…”

“Listen, have you checked yourself in the mirror? You are the most beautiful woman I could ever wish for and, sometimes, I have to really control myself so I don’t fuck you in front of everyone.”

“Then why-”

“Because a lot was happening, I had so many things to worry… I didn’t want to make to love to you when I was not one hundred percent committed.”

“Oh, fuck, I love you.”

Without hesitation, I threw myself into his embrace, feeling his arms knot behind my small back, making our bodies mold into another another. His warmth was so nice I felt I could live within his hug, forever feeling his fingers lingering on my form. He said a muffled ‘I love you’ in my hair, his upturned nose poking my temple; suddenly, I felt so happy this awkward situation hadn’t turned into something more serious.

He pressed his lips into mine softly, eliciting a small smirk to spread fastly. However, our minutes in paradise were suddenly cut short due to an angry huff coming from my right, then I came to the realisation we weren’t completely alone.

“Would the couple like for me to leave them alone?”

“Actually…” Stiles said, a naughty smile growing wide on his face. “I have a better idea.”

“Is that so, lover boy?” She quizzed, her pink lips still forming a line on her face. “What is it?”

“Well, since my adorable girl here has been on a such dry spell, why don’t we give her what she truly deserves?”

“Excuse me?” I intervened, mouth gaped open in surprise to my boyfriend’s proposition. “You’re actually saying we should have a menàge?”

“I think it’s a good idea, Stiles.” The blonde grinned, moving to stand behind me, her hands gripping my hips.”She needs proper care. Lots and lots of orgasms to make it up for the time lost.”

“Uh, guys, this isn’t going to make things weird, right?”

“Stop thinking.” The pair stated bluntly, both shaking their heads.

“We’re here. Right now. Let’s enjoy it, okay?”

“Fine, but don’t hold this on me later, okay, Stiles?”

“Don’t worry.”

Lydia massaged the sides of my body, going at leisure to the bit that needed her the most. Once she finally quitted taunting me, her small hand attached itself to my clit, not thinking twice before drawing small figure eights on it. The mere touch made me heave, my head falling to the right side, allowing me to observe the handsome brown haired man standing next to me. His honey coloured eyes were hard, almost eating me alive.

I bit my bottom lip, a strangled moan escaping my throat.Stiles solely smiled, giving me a wink; that, by the way, made me gasp. Only that Stilinski could pull that off and still make girls crazy about him.

“Stiles… Come here, please.” My voice was barely audible, nonetheless, he came right way, his long fingers brushing my sensitive skin. “Uh, this is so good, Lyds.”

The woman dipped a finger into me, causing my form to tremble under her touch, my hands reaching for support on the desk so I could keep standing.

“Why did you call him, Y/N?” Lydia quizzed, her voice mellow and soft. Her stride painfully slow. “What do you want him to do you?”

“I-I want… Kiss me. Please.”

“By all means, sweetheart.”

Stiles nodded, agreeing, and removed me from the girl’s hands, which brought up a thwarted whine to fall from my mouth. Yet, I wasn’t given much time to assimilate the lack of fingers inside me, because my boyfriend quickly smashed his mouth on mine, kissing me with an unknown hunger, grip strong on my waist, probably leaving marks behind as they roamed throughout my frame. It was plainly rough, but so powerful that it actually caused me to twitch.

“I love the way you look when you’re all surrendered, you know?” He muttered, grabbing my ass and pecking my lips one more time; afterwards, he began scattering butterfly kisses on my face, his stubble burning against my skin. “So beautiful.”

“Okay, my turn!”

“Let’s not forget she’s my girlfriend.”

“No fighting, okay? Right now I belong to both of you.”

I cupped their cheeks, planting a small kiss on Stiles’ lips first, then one on Lydia’s. The pair let a goofy grin slip, bringing one to my face as well. And it was true, in this moment, I was theirs.

My boyfriend pulled away clumsily to get undressed, kicking his clothes to unknown places of my bedroom; whilst he was absent, the strawberry blonde took the time to latch onto one of nipples, sucking at it like there was no tomorrow. The squeaks that left my throat due to her constant actions were nearly shameful. God, she was good at this. I grabbed her neck, pulling her to kiss me, a wet, sloppy kiss.

“God, this is hot…” Stiles groaned, his hand slowly pumping his semi-hard length. “You two are so fucking beautiful together.”

I cupped her breasts through her thin shirt, her turgid peaks letting me know she was just turned on as I was. Our mouths met again, only this time I snatched her bottom lip with mine, biting it with ease. The girl hummed, in approval, and so did my boyfriend, causing my pussy to throb in response. I couldn’t help it, his groans were so bloody sexy that most of the time I actually conceived cumming to that alone. Those raspy, uncontrollable sounds simply drove me crazy.

“Come on, love.” I requested, the sight of his hand bobbing up and down making my mouth water. “Let me help you with that.”

The broad shouldered, mole speckled boy approached me and Lydia, his traits soaked in pure temptation and desire. My eyes fell to his fully hard dick, my hands itching to touch it, to give him pleasure; Stiles, upon seeing my gaze, took my hands into his, guiding it to touch his warm, pulsating member. My thighs quickly glued together, rubbing to find friction in order to dim the sudden fire between my legs.

I spat on my palm, then, with no hurries, I began to masturbate him, slowly massaging his cock to provide him the necessary satisfaction. The girl in front of me used her knee to spread my legs further, her agile digits briskly rubbing my pussy.

“Ly-Lyds, uh-” Lydia slammed three fingers into me, my slickness making it all easier. “Shit, babe.”

“Do you like how I fuck you, Y/N?”

“Yes. You fuck me so good, Lydia. J-Just keep going.”

Stiles’ lips searched for mine avidly, his hands roughly kneading my boobs; that, combined with the overwhelming action happening on my centre, made the knot on my lower half get tighter, my body growing more tensed by the second. Fuck, I could swear I was seconds away from exploding.

“Oh, please don’t stop, I’m gonna’…”

“Cum to Lydia, baby girl.” Stiles whispered on my ear, pushing my hand away from his cock to intertwine our fingers, to reassure I was feeling good. I moaned to the feeling of his calloused hand on mine. To her thumb circling my clit. To the three fingers pumping in and out of me. The whole thing was simply working to send me over the edge. “That’s it, honey, just let it all go.”

And I did. God, I did.

All it took for me break down was a few more thrusts and a good suck on my soft nub, then the orgasm hit me hard in pleasureful waves, continuously pumping throughout my veins lacking mercy. I felt my body grow numb as I screamed Lydia’s name, feeling the high contract and relax my muscles; my toes were curled, my back was arched while my head rested on my boyfriend’s shoulder. Fuck, I had missed this. So damn much.

The woman smiled at me, her perfect lips glistening whilst she withdrew her fingers, my walls still pulsating. I chuckled tiredly, allowing my form to accommodate on the warmness of Stiles’ embrace, feeling his needy mouth already attached to my neck. Of course I knew it wasn’t over, if anything, this was only the beginning.

“This was interesting.” Lydia stated, back on a standing position. “And you taste delicious, by the way.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. But, just one thing, you’re overdressed. Don’t think so, Stiles?”

He agreed with a hum, his attention entirely stuck on playing with my hardened nipples, his digits pinching it lightly. Wearing her best smirk, the strawberry blonde shrugged, not hesitating to get rid of her clothes, showing off her slim, but curvy, frame. After her denim shorts alongside her thin pink tank top were thrown in a small pile on the ground, Lydia came to me, locking our lips together again. During it, I slided carelessly my hands down her back, stopping at the curve of her ass to give a good squeeze.

Damn, she was smooth.

I pushed myself back, grinding against Stiles’ length that was hard against my ass. The brown haired man hoarsely chuckled, grasping my hip with one hand and slapping my butt cheek with another. I moaned instantaneously to his sudden action.

“Outch, daddy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Stiles grumbled, palm striking again, this time slapping my core. “You know what it does to me.”

“I was just joking, you know, no need to be bossy.”

“Come on, you two, drop the act and let’s get this to bed, shall we?”

“If you so, Miss Martin, I agree.”

The brown haired Stilinski collected me from the ground harshly, gripping the back of my thighs so I could wound them around his waist. Laughing, I linked my arms behind his neck whilst he walked us to my bed, dropping my body onto the soft mattress as soon as we were close enough.

I glanced at him, licking my bottom lip; Stiles mirrored my actions as he yanked my ankles to get my lower half on the end of the bed and spreaded my legs apart, his fingers teasingly touching my entrance.

“Oh, baby, Lydia got you so wet, didn’t she?”

“Yes.” My breathing was ragged and the strawberry blonde’s palms cupping my breasts didn’t help at all. Nor did my boyfriend’s tip poking my clit. “Both of you, actually.”

“Is that so, honey?” Martin asked on my ear, her voice sending shudders down my spine. “Tell me, then, are ready for another one?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, I’m still-”

In a sudden movement, Stiles inserted his tip inside me, his hands pinning my hips down so it would go further. I moaned out loud, gripping the close sheets, my nails digging it deep. I hadn’t seen that coming, but, god, it was good. The feeling of him inside me, even if it wasn’t entirely, was… Well, indescribable.

“Kiss him.” I requested, after seeing the beautiful girl on only her underwear rubbing herself. She should be pleased as well, everyone in the room should. “And you, darling, help her too. While you bury that pretty dick of yours inside me.”

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby girl.” The pale boy massaged my hip bones with his thumbs, going deeper within me. “How does it feel?”

“Amazing.”

Lydia stood on her knees, moving towards to Stiles, who, in a blink of eye, pressed his lips onto hers, sharing a very sensual kiss. I whined, guiding my fingers to my throbbing clit, as I watched my boyfriend sneak his hand inside the blue laced panties the strawberry blonde had on. She exhaled loudly to his skilful touch, throwing her head back and grasping her covered breasts. Shit, this must have been the sexiest scene my eyes had ever seen.

The brown haired boy, so far, was going at a slow stride, his cock going in and out at such leisure, I had to buckle my hips forward, only do the friction increase. Stiles pulled away from my friend, removing the glistening fingers from her knickers, causing the girl to complain, and ceased his movements inside me, earning an annoyed huff. So typical of him…

“Why did you stop?”

“Because, in this position, I set rules.”

“Is that so, Stiles?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s switch them, I will gladly ride that dick of yours good and show how it’s done.”

A dull pain spread on my pussy when my boyfriend pulled out, crawling the bed to lie on its middle. I bit my bottom lip, watching him so vulnerable kind of made me hot. Then, an idea popped into my mind, driving me into sharing with Lydia a naughty smirk; I needn’t to say anything for the girl to comprehend what I was aiming for. Therefore, she followed my lead, we both moving to make eye contact with the prominent length in front of us.

I quickly devoured his tip, swirling my tongue around the swollen head, tasting the salty pre-cum slipping from it. The strawberry blonde went for his balls, applying there delicate kisses, probably like the ones she used on me, as she cupped them. Stiles soon turned into a groaning mess, his hands tight around the fistful he collected of my hair. I swallowed even further, his gland lodged on the back of my throat, which made me gag a couple of times. Either way, I started to press his cock between my lips, humming against it, while Lydia pumped what I couldn’t fit into my mouth.

In need for air, I pulled out, a string of saliva connecting me to his dick. I smiled at him, leaning forward again to lick his slit, noticing him twitch. Soon enough, his red end was back into my hot mouth, his sexy sounds filling the room.

“Fuck, if you keep going, I’m gonna…”

“Already, babe?” I questioned, both mine and Lydia’s palms still massaging his length. “Shoot, just because it was getting good.”

“You’re so mean.” My friend commented, a pretty smirk enlightening her traits. Stiles chuckled in the background. “But your hotness makes it worth it.”

She stole a sloppy kiss from me, clamping my bottom lip between hers and letting go slowly, erupting a rather loud gasp to fall from my lips. I withdrew my hands from my boyfriend to place them on her waist, getting her body closer to mine.

“Touch her, Y/N.” The brown haired man abruptly said. “You know she needs it.”

I gazed to Stiles, who had a lewd smirk plastered on his face, then back to her.

“I-I…”

“It’s not going to bite you.” Lydia reassured, her green eyes liquid when they met mine. “Just do it like you do it on yourself.”

My boyfriend sighed, standing behind me on his knees; afterwards, once he was settled, he guided my hand to the strawberry blonde’s warm core, using it to masturbate the girl. She quickly arched her back, moaning my name loudly, which contributed to make my hips wiggle; Stiles giggled, taking his sinful finger to work on my nub, teasingly pushing one inside me. As for me, I didn’t stop massaging Lydia for one second, hearing her whimpers of bliss as I dug further.

Pulling her panties to one side, I finally was able to contemplate that pretty pink pussy of hers, which, actually, was dripping wet from all the teasing. The sight made me lick my lips, my digits playing with her folds; She buckled her hips forward, eager to deepen the touch. And I… Well, the next steps were a bit challenging to me, for it would be my first time doing that.

However, the second I wrapped my mouth around her throbbing nub, I realised it wasn’t hard at all. To be honest, it felt like it was a skill that was inside of me all along and I just wasn’t aware of it. Plus, I seemed to be good at it, because Lydia was screaming like there was no tomorrow.

“You look so good eating me out, baby.”

“And you taste so good, Lyds.” Humming, I slided a finger up her entrance, my lips still over her nub. “Also, keep doing that, Stiles, you’re so amazing at it…”

“Actually, I’m going to make this even better.”

Stiles pushed inside me without hesitation, his hands strong on my waistline. Under the feeling of being filled by him, I squealed loudly, digging my nails deep into Lydia’s inner thighs. Fuck, this time he wasn’t nice, actually, he was pounding into me so hard I was almost unable to keep going on Lydia, nonetheless, I managed to keep my fingers moving, my yelling muffled on her crotch.

The only sounds that could be heard within the room were the clapping of mine and Stiles’ skins as banged my brains off, me squeaking every time he hit a sweet spot and Lydia’s moans due to me kitten licking her slick entrance, fucking her with my fingers still. We were a complete mess. A pleasureful mess.

I could feel the coil on my lower stomach tightening, announcing the second orgasm was really, really close to get me wrecked.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re going to make me cum!” Lydia babbled, her legs tensing around me, her walls starting to clench. “Oh, my God!”

Her entire body trembled as she came undone under my touch; I kept licking her until she was all clean, free from the lubricant liquid dripping from her entrance. In the meantime, she kept yelling my name over and over; gaining a spot on the sexiest sounds I had heard. Jesus, this woman was sexy.

Without having even time to process, Stiles sharpened his thrusts, going at such a fast pace I was sure I would be sore once the rush was over. Nevertheless, the adrenaline was so addictive, I just let myself go, cumming harshly a little bit after he spilled himself inside my pussy, letting a few throaty moans slip, which may have caused a couple extra twitches.

The brown haired boy proceeded moving, riding us both out of our highs. After we were back, the three of us cuddled up on my bed, each one of them lying on a side beside me. Their beautiful eyes and smiles directed at me, driving a small blush to cover my cheeks.

“What?”

“Well, how you’re feeling?”

“Like I could use a snack.”

We laughed tiredly, our whole bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat. Stiles stroke my upper arm, pressing a kiss onto my cheek, like he did every single time we made love. My beautiful strawberry blonde friend, on the other hand, pulled me into a kiss, one I allowed pretty quickly.

“God, girls making out are so hot.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Me and her joked, causing another fit of laughter spread across the room.

Lying on my back, I stretched my arms, which made Stiles’ cum drip out of me, making a wet sensation spread throughout my core. The low whimper I expressed after noticing it did not go out unnoticed.

“Look, Lyds, I think somebody is ready to go again.” My boyfriend stated hoarsely. “That pussy is all filled with my cum, isn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah, it is, daddy.” A small smile curled my lips. “Things are better wet, I guess, why don’t go to my bathroom to keep the fun going? What do you think?”

“I’m on board.” Lydia agreed, sitting upright on my bed.

“Me too, baby girl.”

“So… Come on.”

And, as Stiles placed me on his shoulder, the three of us engulfed in a great happiness, I realised the rest of the day was definitely going to be, well, wonderful.

[georgiabread]

sometimes this has a hot, sweet taste

summary: Then, the inevitable declaration, murmured into the skin just below his ear: “I really, really love you, Phil. Like, so much.”

word count: 2.4k

trigger warnings: none

a/n: this is slightly trashy and they're uncharacteristically sappy, but maybe i got it spot on. if you can't tell, dan and phil at the beach is my favourite thing.

Santorini is sleep, sun cream and fruity cocktails all folded between a few days of calm, and Dan realises he needs it.

This revelation arrives with half-lidded eyes, his body curled into the rubber of an inflated doughnut, floating in the pool of one of those Greek villas he used to see all over holiday sites and Pinterest. The water is blue and blinding and smells like bliss, and he has never appreciated Bryony’s spontaneity more.

The trip was planned and booked before he and Phil ever got the chance to say yes, but there were no regrets involved. Excluding the ungodly hour they arrived and the frail tax-driver of which they were at the mercy, of course. The man had grappled with their lives, scurrying around cliff roads to reach their hotel, and Dan remembers watching his heart tumble across the floor of the minibus.

But no – this idea was a tremendous one. A weekend spent with the people he’s known the longest, without prying cameras and anxiety-inducing social events. It’s a weight off Dan’s back. Because he can rest, unadulterated, no what if’s and but’s attached. Because no one will recognize him and Phil in a sheltered cove off some island in the Mediterranean.

If only it was that simple back in London.

The doughnut grazes the edge of the pool, twists and pushes Dan in another direction. It’s enough to knock him from slumber. Eyelids peel open, toes curl and crack. Dan whimpers in his throat when the sun burns his eyes. Where are his sunglasses? Didn’t Phil borrow them? Damnit Phil. Half-submerged in water and sleep, he decides to blame Phil for any possible blindness.

“Ah. The beast awakens.” Bryony’s voice rises and falls over the pool’s ripples.

Dan glances around, slightly disoriented, until he finds his friend reclined on a deck chair, pineapple juice in hand. “Did Phil steal my sunglasses?” he slurs.

“Probably. He went to get ice cream with Wirrow.”

“If that bitch doesn’t get me chocolate…”

“Don’t worry. He mentioned something about you and choc ice cream.”

“Good.”

“By the way, you should get out of that pool sometime soon. Don’t want another run-in with heat stroke.”

“Fuck, why didn’t anyone wake me up?” Dan flounders in the doughnut for a moment, sinking down the hole in the centre. He eventually makes it to the steps and clambers out. He touches his arm. Definitely freckled. And definitely hot.

Bryony chuckles and sips her juice. “You were too peaceful. Here, I took a photo.”

She finds her phone and her nails patter over the screen, before a picture of Dan’s almost-naked sleeping body is shoved in Dan’s face.

Dan narrows his eyes. “Send that to me. I look mildly cute enough to post it.”

*

A thick blob of gelato drips from Dan’s cup, landing with a dollop on his thigh. It’s chocolate, bittersweet with a dash of coffee. He wipes it away with his thumb and licks it, hears Phil snigger beside him about gross boyfriends or something like that. Their ankles are hooked together underwater, the two of them perched on the side of the pool with expensive ice cream cooling their lips. There is warmth where their arms meet. Freckles are drawn together like constellations, connecting their bodies.

Dan side-eyes Phil after his muttered comment, mouth twitching. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing! I just said it’s yucky when you eat off your thigh,” Phil says, slurping on his spoon to conceal a grin.

“I thought certain people rather enjoyed eating off my skin.”

“Hey, don’t be so vulgar.” Phil shoves Dan’s shoulder, letting his cheeks accumulate a satisfying redness.

Giggling, Dan falls to the side a little more than necessary, and when he straightens up, paints Phil’s blush with his own ice cream-smothered spoon. “There. Eat that.”

“You do it.”

Eyebrows quirk up. Dan tips towards him without hesitation and drags his tongue over Phil’s skin, licking up the cream. Phil gags and scrubs his cheek, his nose crinkling in mock-disgust. “Urgh. You’re horrible. That was hardly sexual.”

Dan pouts. “Is my tongue no longer appealing?”

“Not when you get your saliva all over my face.”

“I’m disappointed in you.” Dan scoops at his gelato, watching his partner carefully. There’s a glint leftover in his eyes. Phil definitely loved it. Dan looks away to hide a smile, rubbing Phil’s foot with his own.

There is a silence. It takes a long, soothing breath, settles around them like a blanket. Dan focuses on the ocean before them. It’s a vast and glossy thing that oddly comforts him. There’s something about the enormity of it, knowing he’s so far away from the responsibilities and hassle of their London life, that puts him at ease.

“We should do this more often.”

“Do what? Lick each other’s faces?”

“No, idiot. Go on holiday. It’s…nice.” Dan’s voice grows soft. “Just being here with you, that’s nice. And – I can hold your hand when we’re in public and stuff, without worrying who’s gonna see and question us or…or expose us online. Of course it’s great hanging with Bryony and Wirrow, but. We never get enough time like this, you know? Time alone, I mean.”

Phil had reached up and brushed his fingers through Dan’s matted curls while he was talking. Now his fingertips land on his jaw, and Dan turns his head. He watches the smaller sea swirling in Phil’s eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Phil whispers. Their ice cream is a distant memory. “What if we went to Japan again? I can propose under the cherry blossoms.”

“If you do that, I’ll actually say no simply because it’s too cheesy.”

“Rude.”

Phil kisses him then – delicate, a reassurance. He tugs on his bottom lip, leaves a taste of lime and pistachio behind. Dan chases the kiss, hands landing on Phil’s arm and neck, then face, cupping his cheeks, their mouths coalescing. The water ripples around their legs. Something painfully fond fills Dan’s chest. When he pulls back, a thumb brushing over Phil’s cheekbone, he – and it’s stupid, it’s so stupid – he suddenly wants to cry.

*

The four of them go snorkelling in the bay. Fish are abundant in all sizes and colours, and Phil confirms this by calling out, “Guys, come look at this!” whenever he lays eyes on one.

Wirrow is mildly interested. Bryony pretends to go deaf. Dan humours him for about the first four. Then shoves his face underwater and keeps it there, preferring to quietly observe the sea life going about their day. His skin feels slick from all the sun cream Phil lathered on him, going on about UV rays despite his own ghostly exterior.

Afterward, while removing their snorkels and diving fins, Phil crosses his arms like a five-year-old and whines about being snubbed.

“We loved your fish, dear,” Dan sighs, eyes soft. “But they weren’t all that remarkable.”

He leaves a kiss on Phil’s cheek as he stands.

It’s ridiculous, how easy it is.

*

By 7 pm, the sun shies away behind the horizon. The ocean purples. They end up at a bar called the Chrysós Brewery; it has a roofless balcony overlooking the cove, and tall torches are scattered between mingling patrons. Bryony and Wirrow disappear quite suspiciously, probably wanting Dan and Phil to have the evening to themselves.

They make the most of it. A petite table for two near the glass balustrades is pinched, and they order the most zany-sounding cocktails on the menu. When the waitress hands over their drinks, Dan studies his warily. It’s blood red, with an odd-looking bunch of fruit and lavender petals sprinkled over the foam.

“Maybe you should drink it instead of having a staring contest with it,” Phil teases after a minute. He takes a sip of his own cocktail, transparent turquoise and decorated with strawberries.

Dan gives him a withering look. “Alright, McSass. I don’t need your comments, thank you.” He takes a large gulp, and the cocktail explodes against his taste buds and eats away at his tongue. He’s left with wide eyes and a tangy aftertaste that actually…isn’t that bad. “You know, I think I’ll order another,” he says.

*

By nine o’clock they’re near-drunk.

At one point, Dan fumbles for Phil’s hand and hauls him away from the table, swerving to a stop somewhere along the railing. “I can’t believe we’re drunk and it’s only nine o’clock.”

Phil blames it on him. Dan frowns and says they’re in Greece, there’s no rules here. But having downed a variety of bizarre brews and beverages, he doesn’t even trust his own judgement.

“Well, we’re not actually drunk,” Phil points out. “We’re just tipsy, or maybe slightly above, I dunno.”

Dan blows a raspberry when he sighs, winding his arms around Phil’s waist and making his head comfy on Phil’s shoulder. “Whatever. We’re doing this ancient ruins-tour-thing tomorrow, so don’t be hungover.”

“Oh, I’m not that drunk, you bum.”

“I guess time will tell.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Phil pretends to vomit. “We can wait till we get back to the villa for that.”

“I can’t believe I’m dating a party pooper,” Dan grumbles.

“I can’t believe I’m dating a child.”

“We should just agree to split up if that’s how we really feel.”

Phil draws Dan closer and nudges his nose into his neck. “Definitely.”

Live music fills the silence that passes, drifting from a corner of the bar. Unconsciously, they begin to sway. Dan traces his fingers over Phil’s back, and Phil tucks one or two kisses inside Dan’s collarbone.

The moment is blissful. Dan’s brain is a little clouded, and he has to blink away the urge to sleep, but he loves this. He loves slow-dancing with Phil, blind to everyone else in the room. All he can see is the dark-haired man nestled against him, his best friend and assigned ‘grow old with me’ person. And Dan realises that maybe the places he tried to find solace in had never mattered from the beginning.

Then, the inevitable declaration, murmured into the skin just below his ear: “I really, really love you, Phil. Like, so much.”

After that, Phil chuckles, his whole body shifting against Dan’s. Then he shuffles back and takes two dimpled cheeks in his palms and kisses him, drunk and sloppy and smitten. “Love you too, you nong.”

*

“Your heart line’s kind of long and curvy…I think that means you express all your emotions freely. Or is that content with love life? I’m not sure.”

Phil’s voice is soft and matted with sleep, matching the muted light in their villa bedroom. He studies the creases carved into Dan’s left palm with a thoughtful frown, fingers ghosting over the smooth skin. The sheets are still sticky and twisted around their tangled legs. Sweat is stranded in Dan’s hairline. His eyelids flutter closed every now and then but he rebels against the drowsiness, much preferring to stare at the quiet concentration on Phil’s face as his palm is read.

Dan huffs a low laugh through his nose. He can’t tell if this is legitimate or not, no matter what Phil says about his psychic ancestors. But he doesn’t dwell on that for too long. Phil’s right about his love life, at least.

“What about this one?” Dan murmurs, pointing to the groove arching away from his thumb.

Phil traces it gently. “That’s your life line. All about general health and life changes. Yours is quite deep and round, which I think means you have a lot of enthusiasm and stuff.”

“Bullshit.”

“I think that’s actually quite true. You’re sweet and energetic when you’re in a happy mood.”

Dan snorts but hides half his face in his pillow. He won’t voice the embarrassing thought in his head, something to do with the knight of wands. “I hate you.”

Dan can’t remember the time they got back from the bar. He was too busy pulling Phil’s shirt off, crumbling when Phil ran his hands over his bare chest. But now, it’s late, and they need rest. Tomorrow is dedicated to exploration. They still have another three days of Santorini, before it’s home again on a flight to audience expectations and boundaries they know not to cross. But Dan wants to be stuck in this moment forever, love in his chest and Phil’s delicate fingers on his skin, their naked bodies woven together with warmth in the most innocent and most passionate way.

Phil’s lips brush over Dan’s fingertips, bringing his focus back to the palmistry at hand. “Now this is your head line,” Phil murmurs. “Yours is quite straight, which is like, you think realistically. But you also have a little doughnut there and that means…you, um, love food.”

Dan’s laughter is like wind chimes. “That’s the fakest thing I’ve ever heard,” he whinges. “You’re just being stupid now.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re a phoney palm-reader.”

“Hey! These are great services. You should be paying double.”

“Okay, tell me about this one, then.” Dan taps the crease that runs through his heart line.

“Your fate line is broken in two,” Phil observes. “Right. That means one day, some guy is destined to chop you in half and that’s how you die.”

“Fucking shut up.” Cosy giggles burst from Dan’s lips, and he leans closer, bumping their noses together. “I want a refund.”

“Nope. No refunds,” Phil says, linking their fingers. He lifts Dan’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles, one by one.

“Well, you can expect a strongly-worded review on your website, then.” Dan’s voice takes on a mock-angry tone. “Phil Lester is the worst palm reader I know. He never knows what he’s talking about and his face is too pretty and distracting. Zero stars.”

“What?” Phil laughs softly. His eyes dip down to Dan’s mouth, before meeting his gaze again. His next words squeeze through half-parted lips. “You should be thanking me for my good looks. They’re obviously a bonus.”

Dan tilts his head. “Obviously,” he murmurs, before pressing his mouth deep and tender against Phil’s. He can taste the bite of vodka and lemon, but everything feels saccharine, his own tendrils of drunkenness blurring his thoughts, lulling his heart. Phil squeezes his hand, nibbles gently on his bottom lip, making sure to leave it chapped in the morning. And Dan just breathes him in until he fills his lungs and with every kiss, he says;

You are where I want to be, always.

phanfics

[guksthighs]

Neighbours

Group: BTS

Pairing: RAP MONSTER X READER

Summary: Namjoon always catches you in your embarassing moments but it seems that’s how you end up building your relationship.

Genre: drabble, fluff

Length: 1.1k

A/N: anyone want a part 2? also enjoy neighbours!au namjoon

Almost falling out of your taxi, your bare feet hit the cold pavement. With a small groan, you walked into the lobby, the air con causing you to shiver due to your short skirt. You were currently partaking in the walk of shame, so quickly you pressed for the elevator before you noticed someone leaning against the wall.

“Good morning neighbour,” a pair of dimples popped out before he ran a hand through messy lilac hair, Namjoon seemed to be completing the walk of shame as well. He was obviously extremely amused by the situation, you, however, were not. Last night may have been a laugh but you now had a pounding headache, and the dress you had worn was short and the heels too high.

“Hi Namjoon,” you replied, massaging your temples and running a hand through your bedhead, your makeup was smudged slightly running down your face almost like a black tear, but you were yet to look in a mirror.

The elevator finally dinged and both of you walked into the elevator; Namjoon leant against the side pressing the button as you studied your reflection letting out a gasp before scrubbing desperately at the mark, Namjoon let out a laugh at this, “I have some wipes in my pocket come here,”

You weren’t about to ask where they were from as you walked over to him, closing your eyes and tilting your head up so he could wipe it off effectively. Namjoon’s hand withdrew from where it was holding it out for you to do it yourself as he began to wipe the black smudge away, “all done.”

As your eyes flickered open, you noticed the other smudges of makeup on the wipe definitely not made by you and realised he probably had the sense to swipe it before going home, “thanks, Namjoon.”

“Stop being so stiff Y/N,” you frowned you had barely spoken to him but when you did he only ever saw you in awkward situations, like when your black lacy thong ended up in his washing load and turned all his whites slightly grey, so of course you were slightly stiff.

The elevator came to a stop as another guy walked in, and without thinking you moved close to Namjoon. Then the guy looked at you and you recognised him as your ex-boyfriend’s best friend, Kim Taehyung, “Y/N, it doesn’t take long for you to move on, watch when I tell Guk he was right about you being a slut.”

Namjoon began to take a step forward but saw your jaw clench and knew you had it under control, “Oh fuck off Tae, he was the dirty cheat. And if having good sex makes me a slut then label me all you want,”

Taehyung simply smirked as he got off on the next floor, the one under you. As he left, Namjoon’s head snapped down so he could look at you and check you were alright but you weren’t, in fact, you looked close to tears.

“Y/N?” he murmured worried to make you actually cry, he wasn’t really sure what to do but wrapped an arm around your shoulder giving you a slightly awkward side hug that made you chuckle slightly.

“I have the worst hangover, Joonie,” he nodded and guided you out of the lift and into his apartment, as he unlocked the door he held your hand and guided you in; kicking pants and pizza boxes out of the way. Then sitting you down on his sofa, he began getting you a drink that was apparently the perfect cure, which left you to look around the room. The coffee table was covered in sheet music, which you leafed through humming a few of the tunes.

Soon Namjoon was waving a cup of something that looked like coffee but had ice and black balls at the bottom, “What is this?” you asked before taking a slurp and realising it was like an iced coffee,

“Ask no questions and you’ll get no lies,” he replied before catching your glare and explaining anyway, “Bubble tea. It cures hangovers,” you spent the rest of the morning with him, talking about your ex and finding out that he partied with them and had heard many stories about you already.

You and Namjoon seemed to always be at each other’s apartments from then on, either helping him with lyrics or him helping you with homework from college.

This particular day you had just come home from work, your muscles aching and stretching yourself out you landed on your bed, very satisfied to sleep due to your free periods in the morning but just as you felt your body sink into the bed and your eyelids close, the beeping began.

A constant beeping sound at a pitch too high and too loud for you to ignore, sitting up you let out a long groan, knowing this would be the fault of your clumsy neighbour. As if to prove you right a few seconds later a fist was banging at your door, “Y/N! Y/N! I know you’re in there. I need your help, hurry up!”

Staggering to the door you threw it open, a fire extinguisher in your other hand and Namjoon stumbled back in surprise; this was a normal occurrence, Namjoon cooking and causing the fire alarm to go off. That’s why you had insisted he either eat takeaways or for you to cook for him if he bought ingredients.

Obviously he had tried to cook again as you walked into the kitchen where a mini fire was raging in the sink, sighing you unclicked the safety and put it out with the fire extinguisher, “Y-Y/N, you look so cool,” you whipped around to look at Namjoon and sighed, the fire alarm still beeping in the background,

“Just turn that bloody thing off,”

“I can’t,” so together you opened the doors to the balcony and sat out there together sharing a packet of crisps whilst looking over the other buildings. Namjoon was absorbed in his thoughts glancing at you every now and then before he snapped his fingers, “you’re like my housewife!”

You shoved him but his hands had grabbed yours and he pulled you into his chest, you tried to look up your face still in his chest, “was that your way of asking me out.”

“No, I would say, Y/N want to be my full-time housewife?” You looked at him before he tilted his head slightly showing he was waiting for a reply, you laughed lightly before pulling off of his chest,

“Want do I get if I say yes?” His smirk told you all you needed to know, as you nodded leading him to press his lips to your forehead.

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[philsdrill]

Chapter 20: Blankets and Duvets

Fic Summary: “Everyone had a link with their soulmates, some could hear some of their partners thoughts, some had a tattoo that would appear with their partners name; for me, I knew when they got sick.” For a while Phil has thought that his soulmate might have an eating disorder and doesn’t expect to meet him in the restaurant where he works.

Genre: a lot of fluff, recovery, really fucking domestic, waiter!Phil

Warnings: eating disorders, anorexia, bulimia, hospitals, panic attacks, references to past abuse, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, a lot of awkwardness, small amounts of smut. This is potentially triggering so for your own sake, please think twice about reading if anything this might affect you.

Disclaimer: I don’t have personal experience with eating disorders, but have done some research. If I have anything about them wrong, feel free to send me an ask and I’ll sort it out.

Word Count (for this part): 7.7k

[Uploads will be approximately every couple of weeks! (hopefully)]

A/N: It’s actually been a month since I’ve updated, and I’m terribly sorry about that, but hey, its exam season. However, this will be the longest chapter since July, so maybe that will make up for it a little bit.

MASTERPOST

<= Previous Chapter

Phil’s POV:

When I first woke up, I knew I didn’t have the luxury of being able to just roll over and go back to sleep. Although he was Dan’s younger brother, I was conscious that Adam was still a guest and I wanted him to enjoy his stay with us. Knowing teenagers, he would still be fast asleep, but I felt I should get up and get the morning’s tasks underway.

I was tired; staying up later than I’d expected with comforting Dan had really taken it’s toll on me, but once I had some coffee in me, I’d be able to put that behind me. Not bothering to change out of my pyjamas - that could wait until later - I got out of bed. I didn’t want to bother him too much, but I woke Dan up a little so that he would hopefully get up sometime soon.

“Dan, I’m going to make breakfast,” I told him, “Want to get up soon and have your shower?”

“Mmm…” Dan mumbled sleepily, “Yeah, I’ll do that soon.”

“M’kay, I’ll see you soon,” I said, pushing my glasses up my nose and making my way out of the room.

I was surprised to find Adam already up, laying on the sofa with the TV on a low volume, “Mornin’, you’re up early!?”

“Yeah, soulmate’s feeling sad,” he explained monotonously.

“Would it help to talk about it?” I asked, sitting down next to him, but far enough away to give him space.

I felt that this was really Dan’s role, being his brother, but I would help if I could. “What’s he feeling sad about?”

“Everything!? It’s a bit overwhelming. He hasn’t slept well, he’s not cutting or anything at the moment, but he’s just feeling really depressed and he can’t talk to anyone because his parents...” Adam paused, suddenly looking really pale.

“Adam, you okay?” I said, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I feel a bit faint, like my head's spinning a bit,” he groaned, “It’s too much.”

“Okay, lie down for a minute,” I said, getting up and helping him to lie down as he looked like he was about to pass out, “I’m gonna get you something to eat and drink.”

I didn’t leave immediately to get him food, instead deciding that I would stay in case he did pass out. Laying down, he started to look a little bit better, a bit of the colour returning to his cheeks.

“D’you take coffee?” I asked, figuring he probably needed some energy.

“Yeah, with milk and like three or four spoons of sugar,” he replied.

“Okay, keep your head down; I’ll be back with some coffee soon,” I told him, heading to the kitchen to make the sugary caffeinated beverage that he looked like he needed.

Still feeling my own exhaustion, I decided that I would make myself one at the same time. I put the kettle on, taking two mugs out of the cupboard and laying them next to each other on the worktop while I waited. I put coffee powder into the bottom of each mug and then the boiling water when it was ready. I poured the milk into one, then the other, followed closely by the sugar. A few minutes later, I returned to the living room carrying two identical mugs of steaming coffee, one in each hand.

I set them down on a side table, greeting Adam with a gentle, “I’m back and I’ve got coffee.”

I told Adam to make sure he sat up slowly; then once he was vertical, I passed him the coffee. He continued to look very pale, but I could tell he would be fine.

“I'll get breakfast sorted out once you've had that,” I told him, “How're you feeling?

“Maybe a bit better,” he said, “Not quite like I'm going to pass out anymore.”

“Okay, that's good,” I said, sitting down next to him to drink my own coffee.

We both sipped at our coffees in relative silence, the only sounds being those of the coffee we slurped into our mouths. I couldn’t quite place why, but it seemed like the best instant coffee I’d had in awhile. Maybe I’d slipped an extra spoon of sugar in; it had to be that.

Adam looked a little more cheerful by the time he’d finished the coffee; that was a good sign.

“You feeling a bit better?” I asked him, as he laid the cup down to the side and sighed.

“Less tired, yeah. I feel a bit less faint, but I think it might be coming from my soulmates end,” he explained.

“Can you encourage him to eat breakfast?” I asked, nodding in understanding.

“Maybe…” he said hesitantly, looking thoughtful.

As Adam sat quietly, a look of concentration on his face, I heard the shower starting up in the distance. That meant that Dan was out of bed.

“Okay, I think he's going to get something to eat now,” Adam said slowly, “We can't communicate in words or anything but I feel like our bond is getting stronger because I'm kinda being able to put ideas in his head.”

“That's interesting,” I said, “Telepathic bonds often get stronger in the run up to the meeting.”

“They do?” Adam asked, surprised.

“They can, yeah,” I confirmed, “Though of course, there's loads of other factors. You've obviously noticed that the stronger the emotion, the more you feel it, so it equally could be connected to that.”

“The complexities of this bond make my head hurt,” Adam complained, “I just want to meet him.”

“I wish you could meet him already too,” I agreed, “Like I don't like seeing you this down about things and Dan's been getting a bit stressed with worry for the two of you.”

“M sorry,” he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to have him worrying.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about; it’s not your fault,” I told him, “He’s struggling with his mental health too; in a different way, but it’s still not easy for him. Now don’t you start worrying about him though; he’s more or less coping and you’ve got enough on your plate. Speaking of plates, what would you like for breakfast?”

“If you don't mind I'm gonna wait until he's eaten and is feeling a bit better,” Adam said, holding his head in his hands.

“Sure, okay, I'll get bowls and stuff out but we can wait ‘til Dan's out the shower,” I said cheerily, getting up and leaving him alone as I felt like he could probably do with some peace and quiet for a minute or two.

In the kitchen, I got bowls and cereal out the cupboard, laying them on the counter next to the archway through to the living room. The temptation was too much as I lifted over the box of Crunchy Nut, so I scooped a couple of dry handfuls out the packet and straight into my mouth. I took the milk, orange juice, and my not-milk out of the fridge, laying them next to the cereal. Actually assembling the breakfast could wait until Dan was out of the shower.

I returned to the living room to wait for Dan, this time sitting on the other sofa to give Adam some space. He was certainly looking better than earlier, but he clearly had a lot going on in his head, by the way he sat with it resting on his knees. Something told me that he was currently more in his soulmates head than his own, which was a little weird to watch.

As I sat studying his behaviour, I felt a weird sensation in my stomach and a sense of dread. Was something bad happening? Adam seemed to be looking happier though, so surely not. The sensation was slowly replaced with a dull ache in my stomach and lower back and I realised that I just needed the bathroom. Nothing bad was happening, silly assumption, Phil.

I tried to ignore the feeling, knowing that Dan would be out of the shower in a few minutes and I’d be able to go to the bathroom. However, it seemed that the pain only seemed to intensify and the minimal contents of my stomach seemed to be having a party in there. I curled up in a ball, groaning in realisation of what I’d done. I’d put normal milk in my coffee and my body most definitely did not like that.

My groan must’ve been louder than I’d realised, because suddenly Adam was next to me, looking a tad concerned, “Phil? Phil, are you okay? Should I get Dan?”

“I put actual milk in my coffee by accident,” I explained, feeling sick to the stomach as I spoke, “He’s in the shower.”

Adam left my field of vision and only moments later, I could hear him calling out to Dan through our bathroom door, “DAN!”

Only a moment later, I heard the shower stop and a quieter reply from Dan, “Adam?”

--

Dan's POV:

I was just about finished in the shower, having my final minute just soaking under the hot water and relaxing, when Adam shouted my name through the door. I instantly turned the shower off, wondering what was happening. Had something happened to Phil? Anything else and it probably would’ve been him getting me.

“Adam?” I replied, the water now off so I could hear.

“Phil put normal milk in his coffee by accident and his tummy’s sore,” Adam said frantically, “He’s all curled up and he looks really pale.”

“Oh god, right two seconds, I'm on my way,” I said, immediately filled with concern as I hoped out the shower and pulled a towel around my waist.

I opened the bathroom door, wet and dripping, but at least with my private parts covered. Adam looked a little shocked as I opened the door. My first thought was ‘oh god, he’s disgusted by my fat’ but then I realised it was mainly the fact I was dripping wet and shirtless. Still, I found myself sucking in my stomach, not even consciously until I’d noticed I’d done it.

“Sorry bro, gotta deal with me being half naked, I need to look after phil,” I hurriedly explained myself, pacing through our bedroom and out into the hallway.

In the lounge, I knelt down in front of the sofa Phil was occupying, “Phil, how bad are you feeling? Like just a sore stomach, pretty crap, or like you’re going to throw up.”

“Pretty crap,” he mumbled.

“Okay, let’s get you to the bathroom,” I told him, helping him up, “Adam, just help yourself to breakfast.”

Phil’s skin was translucent, verging on green, I noticed, as I walked through our room with him. He was very tense as he walked, every so often holding his abdomen with a pained expression on his face. I let go of him as he walked into the bathroom, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

I didn’t want to hang around too long as I knew what was coming. I tossed on the first t-shirt and pair of joggies I could find. They were a bit big as they were Phil’s, but they’d do.

“I'll give you some privacy, Phil, but shout if you need anything,” I said, as I left our bedroom, not really wanting to hear him going to the toilet.

“Thanks,” Phil replied weakly, after a moment or two.

I shut the door to our room and walked back along to our living area, finding myself shaking slightly as I walked. Whether it was the hurried nature of the situation, my anxiety making an appearance or just a feeling through Phil and I’s soulmate bond, I didn’t quite know.

Adam was sitting at the table, spooning some cereal into his mouth, looking thoughtfully.

“Hi,” I greeted him, “How are you this morning?”

“Alright,” he said, “I got woken up early because my soulmate was feeling sad, then when Phil came through I was feeling a bit faint so he made me coffee. Well he made us both coffee, as you’ve found out. Turns out it was actually my soulmate who was feeling faint, but I managed to encourage him to go and get some food. Is Phil okay?”

“Ehh…” I hesitated, “He’s currently shitting his guts out, but there’s nothing I can do other than leave him to get on with it and give him some tlc later.”

“Awwh,” Adam said, sounding genuinely sad about how Phil was feeling, “That sucks; there isn’t anything you can give him to make him feel better?”

“Not really, no,” I told Adam, “Once he’s got it out of his system, he’ll need a lot of water, but I don’t think there’s much I can do before then.”

“You going to sit down and have breakfast?” Adam asked, looking at where he had laid the rest of the breakfast stuff.

“Yeah, I just need to go get my anxiety meds from the kitchen,” I explained, heading in the direction of the kitchen, still finding myself shaking a little.

I grabbed my tub of pills from the cupboard and filled myself a big glass of water. I took them to the dining table, something I wouldn't have done if it hadn’t been for the face that I’d told Adam I’d show him what they were like.

“Antidepressants,” I said, laying the tub down on the table in front of me and sitting down.

Adam looked over on hearing that, studying the tub from where he was sitting. I grabbed a bowl and filled it with cereal, knowing from experience that it wasn’t the best idea to take medications on an empty stomach. Once I had a bowl of cereal in me, I pushed the bowl to the side and picked up the tub of pills. I took one out and held it between my finger and thumb to show to Adam. I let him look at it for a moment or two, before popping it in my mouth and swallowing it with some water.

“See, nothing scary,” I told him, laying the water back down.

“That actually makes me feel a lot better about it,” Adam told me, “Like antidepressants sound scary… b-but they don’t look too bad.”

“Yeah, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” I reminded him, “Like they’ll probably even do you some good which’ll be nice.”

--

“DAN,” Phil shouted from a distance, his voice weak but still audible.

“Two seconds, I’m coming,” I called back, turning my head in the direction of our bedroom.

I got up, first stopping at the kitchen to grab a couple of bottles of water as I knew he was going to need a drink, then made my way to our room. I found Phil sitting on his side of our bed, still looking very pale, but he was obviously feeling a bit better to be through here.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him in a soft voice, perching on the bed next to him.

“I wouldn’t say better, but a lot less bad,” he said, “Like I’ve no longer got the stomach cramps from hell, but I feel a little nauseous.”

I unscrewed the lid of one of the water bottles and passed it to him, “You need to drink. That’ll make you feel a bit better.”

Phil started slowly sipping on the water and meanwhile, I picked up his free hand and held it in mine. His hand was a bit clammy and shaky, but I wasn’t complaining, I was just glad that I could do something to help now, even if it wasn’t much.

“Anything else you’re needing?” I asked, after a while.

“I still feel a bit nauseous,” Phil said, “Could you make like chamomile tea or something? That sometimes helps a bit.”

“Sure,” I said, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand one last time before I let it go, “D’you want anything to eat?”

Phil shook his head, “No, I don’t feel good enough for that.”

On my way to make Phil his tea, I stopped for a moment to speak to Adam, “I’m not sure if we’ll be going out today. Phil’s not feeling very well; I’m going to make him some tea.”

“S’okay, I understand,” Adam said, lifting his attention from his phone for a moment to speak to me, “And just say if you want me to help with anything, I don’t mind.”

“I think I’m good at the moment, but thanks,” I said to him, entering the kitchen and filling the kettle.

I looked out a teabag and a mug as the kettle boiled, picking a big mug as Phil was surely dehydrated. I let the tea bag soak for a while, before removing it and tossing it in the sink to dry out.

Returning to Phil with a steaming mug of tea, I paused to speak to Adam again, “Adam, I’m going to sit with Phil for a bit. Just help yourself to anymore food from the kitchen and if you could entertain yourself for a while, that would be fantastic. Just come through if you need anything though; Phil’s not contagious or anything.”

“Okay, sure,” Adam nodded, “I hope he feels a bit better soon.”

In our room, I handed Phil the tea, then climbed up onto the bed next to him. Once I’d settled next to him, Phil rested his head on my shoulder, periodically taking sips of the tea.

I turned my head to the side and looked down at him, “Hopefully this’ll make you feel better. I’ve told Adam to entertain himself for the moment as I don’t know what we’re doing about going out. I’m guessing you won’t be feeling up to that.”

“No, not now anyway. At the moment, I still want to be within stumbling distance of the toilet,” Phil told me, “Maybe later, when I feel less sick and shaky, and the empty hollow feeling has gone away.”

I could feel Phil shaking next to me, so I pulled up a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapped it around him. I cuddled him a little, hoping that would help to warm him up, and was quite shocked by the way Phil’s shaking vibrated through me as well. I hoped that with the tea, hugs and blankets, he would start to feel a bit better, but his skin was still had a translucent green tinge to it.

Phil pushed himself out of my embrace, “I think I might throw up.”

Phil started to stumble off towards the bathroom, with me following right behind to be there for him. Phil settled himself on the floor in front of the toilet, but nothing happened immediately. I gently rubbed my hand up and down his back, trusting his judgement that he was maybe going to be sick and waiting with him for when it happened.

After being there for a minute or two, the smell of the bathroom was starting to make me a little queasy, which certainly wouldn’t be doing Phil any good. I left Phil’s side for a minute to open the window wide, put the fan on and spray some air freshener. Phil was only going to feel worse otherwise. Maybe if the air was a little fresher, he might feel a bit better.

We stayed in front of the toilet for another five minutes, still nothing happening. Phil flopped back against me, maybe having realised that he wasn’t going to be sick after all.

He was still shaking and didn’t look any better, so I asked him how he was feeling, “D'you still think you're going to be sick?”

“I don't know…” Phil said, slowly, trailing off, “Maybe not, I’m not sure though.”

“I think the best place for you right now is bed,” I told him, “I'm gonna get you a bucket just in case and you can have a lie down.”

Phil agreed with me, so I gave him a hand up and supported him back through to our room. He was still trembling a lot, but hopefully sleeping would put his body on the fast track to recovery.

Once Phil was in bed and surrounded by plenty of blankets to keep him warm, I got the bucket, which I laid on the lot next to the bed. I was starting to doubt that Phil would actually be sick, but it was nice to have the peace of mind that it had somewhere to go if he did.

I found Phil some medicine that would hopefully calm his stomach a little. I was never entirely sure whether it would make a difference, but with Phil being so miserable and so far from his usual self, it was worth a shot.

I made sure Phil was comfortable in bed and had everything he needed,then stayed by his side until he fell asleep.

--

I flopped down on the sofa in the lounge with a sigh. Adam looked up at me, taking his attention off of his phone.

“Phil's not good, I'm guessing?” he asked.

“No, he's feeling sick and is really shaky,” I explained, “I've given him some medicine and he's gone to sleep so hopefully he'll feel better when he wakes up.”

“It’s just me and you for a while then,” I realised aloud, “What d’you want to do? We’ll see this afternoon if we go out, but I’m not leaving Phil until he’s feeling a bit better.”

“I don’t know, I’m happy with just playing video games or something,” Adam said, vaguely.

“Mario kart tournament?” I suggested, knowing that we could bat our indecision back and forwards forever if someone didn't make their mind up.

“Yeah sure, sounds good,” Adam agreed, looking happy about the idea.

I don't know where the thought came from, but suddenly it crossed my mind that tonight might be the night that Phil was working this week.

“Two minutes, I’ve just realised that Phil might be working tonight but I'm going to go check,” I explained to Adam, going to mine and Phil's room and checking the calendar on his phone.

Sure enough, my suspicions were correct. Phil was meant to be working tonight; in fact, really this afternoon as he was on the earlier shift, from half four until nine.

Going into Phil's email, where I knew his boss would've sent him a schedule, I was able to check who was on shift with him. There were a bunch of names that I didn't really know, or had only heard Phil mention once or twice, and then halfway down the list there was Chris.

I'm sure Phil would find someone to take his shift if he felt too ill, but it was good to know that Phil would have a friend there to look out for him if he made it.

I returned Phil's phone to his bedside table, then let Adam know that, yes, Phil was meant to be working. Okay, we wouldn't be going out just now, but if Phil made it to work, Adam and I could go on a little walk somewhere and have some brother time.

Our Mario Kart tournament was great fun, both of us getting thoroughly competitive and winning about the same number of races each. We called it a draw, when after two tournaments we were tired of racing and had one a tournament each. Adam was a very close match; I'd like to see what would happen if we added Phil into the equation.

--

It was getting towards lunchtime when Phil awoke. I had been popping in periodically to check on him, but so far he'd been sound asleep each time. This time he said hello when I entered; he was lying on his side, blearily opening one eye to look at me.

I came over and perched on the edge of the bed next to him, to see how he was feeling.

“Are you feeling any better?” I asked him, putting my hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I feel quite a bit better, apart from I feel really weak and I'm still shaking a bit,” Phil told me.

“Okay,” I nodded, my other hand finding his hand under the covers, “D'you want to bring your blankets and come through to the living room? Adam and I were playing Mario Kart, but we've stopped now so it should be pretty calm.”

“Okay,” Phil agreed, a little hesitantly, but it was still an agreement.

I stayed by his side as he got up and kept an arm around him as we walked through to the living room together. He'd said he was feeling weak and I could feel that in the way he moved: tiredly, as if he'd been on his feet all day and was about to pass out.

Phil happily flopped down on the sofa, pulling his duvet and blankets tighter around him. In the bright daylight of our lounge, he was looking noticeably better. I wondered if he'd be up for eating anything.

“Seeing as it's lunchtime, would you like something to eat?” I asked him.

“I don't know…” he replied, hesitantly, looking rather unsure.

“How about I heat up some soup? Heinz chicken noodle or something?” I suggested.

Phil agreed with an unsure 'okay’, which sounded like he was at least up for giving it a shot, trying a little bit and seeing how he felt. I headed to the kitchen to heat up the soup, getting Adam to come with me so he could pick something out for his own lunch. We shared out the remainder of the soup which I wasn’t giving to Phil and each had a sandwich.

I sat with Phil on the sofa to eat my lunch, as he slurped on his soup slowly and a little hesitantly. Phil took quite a while  to get through his small portion of soup, but I was glad to see that he finished it. It came as a surprise to me when he got up to put his bowl in the dishwasher, instead of just laying it to the side or giving it to me.

“Has that made you feel a bit better?” I asked, as I joined him by the dishwasher to put Adam’s and my dishes in too.

“It has actually, I feel a bit stronger now,” he told me, “Less like a wobbly jelly and more like… more like myself.”

“That’s good,” I said, happy that he was feeling substantially better.

I followed Phil back to our sofa, where he settled amongst his mound of blankets, but didn’t wrap himself up in them.

“How are you feeling about going to work?” I asked him, “I had a look and you’re on the four-thirty shift, yeah?”

“Oh god, yeah,” Phil said, shock in his voice, “I’d forgotten about that… urm…”

Phil thought for a minute and then voiced his decision, “Although I could phone in sick, I’m going to go. I’m not contagious or anything; I’m just feeling a little weak and I’m sure I’ll feel better still by half four.”

“Anything else I can do for you to help you feel better?” I asked, “I’m happy to be your personal slave and let you relax on the sofa for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Do we have any energy drinks? Like lucozade or powerade or something?” Phil asked.

“I’ll go have a look; I know we had some when I…” I paused, hesitating over what I was saying, “Uhhh… wasn’t eating much, but I’ don’t know if we have any left.”

I went to the kitchen and rifled through all of the cupboards, but I wasn’t able to find any sorts of energy drinks. I came back to Phil with the news, “We don’t have any, but if you want, I’ll go out and buy some.”

“It’s fine, I’ll cope,” Phil said, sounding strangely cheery.

It only took a fraction of a second for me to realise that the cheer in his voice was false. Although he was a bit better, he wasn’t feeling that good. He was still a few shades paler than usual and I could sense from his floppy body language just how drained he was feeling.

“Let me rephrase that. I'm going to go out and get some,” I said firmly, knowing he needed it.

Phil didn’t even protest, just smiling weakly and saying thanks. I took Phil a bottle of water and his phone, making sure he had what he might need while I was gone.

I went to tell Adam what I was doing in case he wanted to come too, “Adam, I’m going to run down to the supermarket for five minutes; do you want to come?”

Adam did want to come, so I told him to go and get his shoes on whilst I did the same. I put on my coat, made sure I had all the necessities like phone, keys and anxiety medicine and picked up Phil’s car keys from the little table where the sat in our hallway. I kissed Phil a quick goodbye; I wouldn’t be away for long, but I couldn’t leave my soulmate for long without a farewell.

Our visit to Tesco was pretty quick, heading only to the drinks aisle and the ‘free from’ section. We bought Phil some more lactose free milk and some chocolate to cheer him up. In the end we got lucozade and powerade to give him a choice. Whatever I could do to help, I would. I paid for the stuff and we headed home quickly, so Phil could drink it and hopefully feel the effects all the sooner.

When we got home, Phil was still exactly where we left him, on the sofa. He had put the TV on and was watching the news; there couldn’t be anything great on at the moment then. After putting the milk away in the kitchen, I brought him through one of each drink. Phil thanked me and took the lucozade, which he immediately started guzzling like a thirsty little beaver, his shoulders hunched up to keep the duvet in place.

Phil started to look better, and when I asked him, it turned out that he did feel better. He seemed like himself again, sitting up straight and participating in conversation. I could now see that he would probably cope with work, but knowing that Chris was working too, I wanted to let him know how Phil had been feeling so he could keep an eye on him for me.

Telling Phil what I was doing first, I texted Chris to let him know:

Phil’s not been feeling very well today, so could you keep an eye on him for me at work. He’s been diagnosed as lactose intolerant and he had some accidental milk this morning so it’s nothing contagious. Thanks, Dan.

I kept it fairly short and to the point, letting him know what he needed to know. A couple of minutes later I received a reply:

Yeah sure, I’ll keep an eye on him. That’s a pity that he can’t have milk now, but thanks for letting me know.

I made Phil a light snack for his dinner; he didn’t want much until he was sure his body had completely recovered, so I did him something simple - toast with spread and jam, and an apple. Phil ate his small dinner with the accompaniment of some powerade, then got himself ready for work.

I made sure Phil took the car, to save the energy he would use in walking. Adam and I could walk wherever we decided to go. We didn’t have four and a half hours of work to do and neither were we ill and exhausted.

“Look after yourself,” I reminded Phil before he left, “Chris’ll be on the lookout for you, so if you’re not feeling good, there’s someone on hand to help. Text me or call me or something if you’ve got any problems.”

I watched out of the window as Phil got into his car and drove away. I hoped he would get on okay at work.

--

With not many places being open after five, other than restaurants, I decided I would take Adam out for dinner. It was certainly better than me cooking; despite a little training from Phil I still wasn’t much of a chef. I didn’t frequent any of the restaurants in town, but there was one place I felt okay with eating: the vegan place which Phil and I had take out from on the day we moved in. I found Adam a copy of their menu online before we committed to going. He was still a bit of a fussy eater and I didn’t want to take him somewhere that he wasn’t going to enjoy. To my relief, Adam informed me that there were a number of things on the menu that he was happy to eat.

Around half five, I told Adam to get ready and we headed out for six o’clock. That would give us plenty of time to eat and still be home before Phil. Now that I more or less had to take my anxiety medicine everywhere, I had got into the habit of making sure I had everything I needed before I left to go anywhere. Medication, keys, phone, wallet - I checked my pockets to make sure I had them all.

Adam and I walked to the restaurant, which was only about ten minutes away, on the main street. I made sure to avoid the back roads that would take me past the place where my ex worked. Being anywhere near her was not something I wanted.

I opted for one of my favourites from the menu: the kale, parsnip and pomegranate salad. Adam had what I think Phil had the last time, the vegetable stir fry. I enjoyed my meal, not feeling in the slightest guilty about what I’d eaten as it was all healthy and one-hundred percent organic. Adam cleared his plate, which was no surprise from him. For me, it wasn’t something that happened often unless it was a small portion served to me by Phil.

It was colder when we left the restaurant and I regretted not wearing more layers. Despite having nearly a healthy amount of body fat now, I still felt the cold. I felt it slightly less than I did back when I’d met Phil, but it still left me with a lingering chill right down to my bones.

When Adam and I got in, I settled on the sofa with the duvet that Phil had left there earlier. We generally slept in a mess of jumbled blankets and two duvets; a remnant of the days when I got even colder than I did now. After moving in together, we’d never chosen one duvet, we just slept with them both. Technically the duvet that was on the sofa was originally Phil’s, but they were both just ours now.

I pulled it around me and hoped it would help me warm up a little; but deep down I knew the chill would linger in my bones for a while. I could probably do with a hot drink, but I would wait until Phil was home.

“Dan, are you okay?” Adam asked me, “You’re getting pretty intimate with that duvet.”

“I’m fine,” I told him, “I just feel the cold a lot, it’s not really anything to worry about. I still don’t have quite as much body fat as I should.”

“Ahh right,” he mumbled, “Yeah, are you doing better these days?”

“Yeah, quite a bit,” I told him honestly, “I’m around a healthy weight. Phil still thinks I should weigh a bit more, but I don’t think I can do it. I’m still not completely happy with my body, but Phil’s helped me learn to like it a bit more. My main problem at the moment is the anxiety disorder I’ve been landed with as a result. Anything related to my ex-girlfriend can trigger it, which was why I wasn’t feeling so great after I saw her when we walked past her work yesterday. I had a really bad attack at the weekend when I was at Phil’s house for his birthday. Phil’s brother accidentally touched my stomach - I was just in my underwear as I was going to bed - and it started off like flashbacks to what happened with her.”

“Do the antidepressants help much?” Adam asked.

“Yeah,” I said, taking a couple of deep breaths because I felt anxious even thinking about Nora, “They make me feel a lot less anxious in general. The doctor tried to change the medication I was on a few weeks ago and I had a pretty bad time for a week or so, so I’m back on what I started with, which actually helps. I’ve got another medication to help when I actually have a panic attack, which work by slowing down my heart rate. They’re the ones I always make sure I have with me, because even with Phil’s help I can get into quite a state if I don’t have them to help me through it.”

Adam looked stunned for a second, “Anxiety sounds harder than I thought.”

“Yeah, it’s not easy,” I confirmed, “Phil helps me a lot and I talk to a mental health therapist sometimes. That reminds me, I need to book an appointment.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket to set a reminder for me to do that tomorrow. I wanted the appointment for after Adam had headed home, but knew that I needed it pretty soon. The panic attack come flashback at the weekend had really put a hole in my confidence.

As I had my phone out, I realised that it was now a couple of minutes past now. Phil’s shift would have just finished, so it wouldn’t be long before he was home. I got up from the sofa, taking the duvet with me, and went to watch at the window

“I’m watching for Phil,” I explained to Adam, “I want to see him coming so I can greet him at the door.”

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, a familiar car turned into the car park. I saw Phil get out and by chance, he happened to glance up at the window. I waved at Phil and smiled, knowing he’d be able to see me as I was lit from behind and it was dark outside. Phil waved back, before ducking into the building.

I made my way to the front door and waited for Phil to come up the stairs. After a minute, I opened the door, and there was Phil, three steps from the landing.

“Hi,” I greeted him, pulling him into a hug as he reached the door, “How’re you doing?”

“I’m really tired and I still feel a little weird,” Phil admitted, less than willing to break away from me.

“Get some pyjamas on, then come and join Adam and I in the lounge. I'll make you a hot drink,” I told him, “And I’ll even share the duvet!”

Once Phil had disappeared into our room to get changed, I headed for the kitchen. I decided I’d make him a hot chocolate, with his lacto-free milk of course.

“I’m making hot chocolate, d’you want one?” I asked Adam as I passed him by.

His answer was yes, so I would now be making three hot chocolates. They might not quite live up to the standard of Phil’s, but I’d do my best. It turned out that a number of non-instant hot chocolates were dairy free, so we had no problem with Phil on that one; we just changed the milk he had it with.

As I made the hot chocolates, I kept a tab on which one was Phil’s. I’d picked out one of his favourite mugs and made sure to make his drink in it. It would kill me if I made him sick, so I was very careful.

It took me about five minutes, but soon there were three steaming cups of hot chocolate on the counter. I loaded them onto a tray and took them through to the living room. I handed Adam a hot chocolate then laid mine and Phil’s on the table beside me.

I spread the duvet across my lap, then lifted it up in the middle to leave a gap between my legs where Phil could sit. It wasn’t long before Phil walked into the room, now in his pyjamas, with a blanket already draped around his shoulders. I patted the space between my legs and invited him to sit down. I knew that I’d promised myself not to show too much affection to Phil in front of Adam, but sometimes exceptions had to be made.

Once Phil was settled, I reached out for his hot chocolate and passed it to him, “One lactose free hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” Phil said, smiling tiredly and taking a sip, “It’s pretty good.”

“Am I right that’s one of your favourite mugs?” I asked him, gesturing to the mug he was holding, “I made it in that so I wouldn’t get it mixed up with mine and Adam’s.”

“Yeah, it is,” Phil nodded happily, “Thank you.”

The three of us all sipped our hot chocolate in peace, Adam alone on his sofa and Phil snuggled up in a blanket between my legs. It was clear from his cuddliness how tired he was, but I didn't quite know the full extent of it until his head tipped back at a funny angle and so too did the remainder of his hot chocolate. He'd fallen asleep before he even got to finish it.

I reached out and grabbed the hot chocolate, taking it from him before he spilt it everywhere. I laid it down on the table, before figuring out what to do with the half asleep Phil. In his current state, he was just dozing off, but I knew I needed to get him to bed before he fell into a deep sleep.

“Phil,” I said, shaking him slightly, trying to wake him up enough to get him to bed.

“Hmm?” Phil mumbled sleepily.

“Time to go to bed,” I told, moving so I was sitting next to him and linking our arms around each other, “Come on, get up.”

Phil got up with me and I walked with him through to our room. I knew he hadn't brushed his teeth, but I could tell there was no way that was going to be happening. He was half asleep and stumbling as we walked and the most sensible idea was to just plop him straight into bed. I made sure he looked comfortable before pulling the duvet up around him. He'd never really woken up, so he was back asleep in no time.

With it barely even being ten yet, I knew Adam and I would be staying up for a bit longer. We hadn't had the exerting day that Phil had. Adam and I fell back onto discussing how his soulmate was doing. Adam could sense that he was feeling really tense and tired, so using his new found levels of communication through the bond, he tried to suggest something to help.

Remarkably, he was able to put the idea into his soulmate’s head of going for a bath, and it worked! After thinking about it for a couple of minutes, Adam was now able to tell me that he was running a bath. It was clear even to me once his soulmate was in the bath, because Adam started visibly relaxing too. However, Adam didn't seem relaxed for long, suddenly looking a little red in the face and beginning to look a bit uncomfortable.

“M sorry, Dan, he's getting himself off and… oh god… umm I need to go sort myself out,” Adam stuttered suddenly, blushing a deep red, getting to his feet and very unsubtly holding the crotch of his pants.

Realising what was happening, I felt a little second hand embarrassment, but knew he needed to go and take care of himself pretty quickly, “You got everything you need? You don't need any lube or anything?”

“I'm alright, I don't really go there,” he stammered, still looking incredibly embarrassed.

“Right,” I said, tossing him the box of tissues from the table, “Have fun, take these to clean up the mess and I'll see you in the morning.”

Adam stuttered out a ‘goodnight’ before waddling off to his room with one hand down his pants and the other carrying the box of tissues. I remembered how easily it was to get turned on at fifteen, and just how embarrassing it could get when you found a boner springing up in front of people. I would leave him alone until morning, making sure he got the privacy he needed.

As I sat in the living room, some noises from Adam's room started to filter their way through. They were quiet enough not to wake Phil, but I felt a bit uncomfortable with what I was hearing. Phil's laptop and a pair of headphones were laying on the coffee table, so I decided I would make use of them and watch some YouTube videos for a bit.

After a while, I felt my eyelids started to droop and I was losing the ability to focus on what I was watching. That was when I knew it was time to go and join Phil in bed. Taking the duvet from the sofa with me, I got myself ready for bed, then climbed in next to Phil. I must’ve disturbed him a little when I got into bed, as he rolled over and cuddled up next to me.

“Love you, Dan,” he mumbled as he cuddled into my chest.

“I love you too, Phil,” I mumbled, back, putting an arm around him and taking up the position of big spoon.

Next Chapter =>

[ask-me-about-datlof]

Thank You, Friend - Prologue 5

Suddenly, it was Sunday and the entire week had disappeared and I was horrified to realise that I hadn’t yet written the next chapter.

So now I’m very tired (it’s like 3.30am) and this chapter is kinda short, but hopefully I’ll be getting to stuff that’s easier to write soon.

This is also on AO3 of you want to read it there (along with all previous chapters)

Also, if you have any questions let me point you in the direction of the ask box! All and any questions welcome!

He had to run, he had to keep running! His breath was sawing in his chest and his heart was pounding furiously as he ran, desperate to keep running. He didn’t know what he was running from, only that he had to keep running faster and faster and faster…

With a gasp and a cry, Lewis sat up sharply, the bedclothes tangled around his limbs and his breathing and heart rate as accelerated as they had been in the dream. He swallowed and held his head in his hands, shaking slightly, panic still whirling around his system. He had hoped that the nightmares had stopped, but apparently not. Lewis sighed and looked up towards the window. It was still dark outside and listening carefully, he could hear the quiet rain. A quick glance around the room led Lewis’s eyes to a small digital clock which read 02:36 in green glowing numbers. He sighed again and untangled himself from the bedclothes before he headed over to the bathroom. He switched on the lights and was blinded momentarily as his eyes failed to adjust to the brightness of the lights after the darkness of the rooms. Blinking, Lewis made his way over to the sink where he turned the tap on and let the water run as he leant against the edges. He cupped some water in his hands and splashed it over his face. He did this a couple more times and as he ran his hands down his face, he looked up into the mirror. His eyes were still faintly glowing. Lewis frowned and his reflection frowned back. There had to be some reason for these nightmares… Lewis sighed and looked away, turning the tap off and grabbing a towel and drying his face with it.

Lewis left the bathroom and turned the light off, pausing for a moment as he let his eyes readjust to the darkness. Once his eyes were accustomed to the dark once more, he looked around the room, his gaze coming to stop on the digital clock. The divider between the hour and the minutes blinked on and off at him, the only marker of the constant time that was passing. He tore his gaze away from the clock and went back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, clasping his hands together and staring down at them. All logic told him he should go back to sleep. If he stayed away now, it’d get to morning and he’d be absolutely exhausted. But he didn’t want to go back to sleep. He didn’t want to have that nightmare again. He didn’t want to wake up covered in a cold sweat and gasping for breath. Lewis hugged his arms around his body tightly and gazed out at the darkness. The pattering of rain against the window grew stronger for a moment as a gust of wind drove the raindrops against the glass. Lewis wondered if Lalnable had any tea; he wanted the comforting warmth of the drink to help calm him down and maybe a cup of tea would help him get back to sleep.

Having made a decision, Lewis got to his feet and made his way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. As he passed the room where Simon was sleeping, he could hear the dwarf’s loud snoring and he smiled slightly. At least Simon was getting a good night’s sleep. As Lewis wandered through the quiet rooms, he could hear the wind whistling outside and he began feeling slightly uneasy in this old large quiet house where no one was making a sound and he was all alone.

“Don’t be stupid, Lewis, nothing’s going to come out of the dark at you.” Lewis murmured quietly to himself as he navigated himself through some dark rooms.

‘But what if there’s a ghost in here?’ A quiet voice in his mind popped up. Lewis tried to laugh but didn’t like the loudness of it in the still quiet of the house and quickly fell silent.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts. Don’t be an idiot.” He replied, trying to bolster his courage. Lewis pushed open a door and found himself in the kitchen. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he switched on the lights, sending the darkness scurrying away.

Lewis began searching through the mostly empty cupboards of the kitchen, eventually coming across a cupboard that held a large jar of coffee and a tin that read ‘TEA’. He reached in and grabbed the tin, pulling it out. It was rather light and Lewis didn’t feel too confident that there would actually be any tee inside it. He pulled off the lid and glanced inside. Much to his surprise, there was one solitary teabag lying forlornly at the bottom of the tin. Lewis smiled slightly as he pulled it out before replacing the lid and setting the tin back in the cupboard. He then turned his attention to mugs. Lying in the sea of dirty crockery and plates, Lewis caught sight of a number of mugs and after inspecting them, he chose the least dirty, taking it over to the sink where he scrubbed it as best he could. Once it was clean-ish, he located the kettle, thankfully clean, and he filled it up and started it boiling, placing the teabag in his chosen mug.

As the kettle began to boil, the door to the kitchen opened and Lewis looked up in surprise, and a little bit of fear. Lalnable walked tiredly into the kitchen, his long blonde hair sticking up on end as he shuffled around the table and picked a random mug from the pile of dirty dishes. Still having apparently not noticed Lewis, Lalnable opened the cupboard that held the coffee and the single teabag and Lewis hoped he wasn’t going to pull out the tin that had held the tea. Thankfully, Lalnable grabbed the coffee and haphazardly poured some into the mug, spilling a number of the grounds onto the countertop and floor. The kettle clicked off as Lalnable placed the coffee back into the cupboard.

“Hello, friend.” Lewis said, finally deciding to speak up as it became apparent that Lalnable was in a world of his own and still hadn’t noticed Lewis standing there. Shocked, Lalnable glanced up at Lewis for a few seconds before he grabbed his mug and shuffled over to the kettle.

“Hey. Thought you went to sleep?” He mumbled sleepily as he grabbed the kettle and poured it into the mug, only narrowly missing his fingers. Lewis took hold of the kettle after Lalnable put it down and poured the remaining water into his own mug.

“I did. I, uh, woke up again just now and decided I wanted a cup of tea.” Lalnable squinted into the mug.

“I have tea?” Confusion was written all over his face. He had clearly not had tea in a number of months, if not longer.

“Had. You only had one teabag left I’m afraid.” Lalnable shrugged and sat down heavily in a chair before lying his body down on the table.

“Eh, not a problem. I don’t really drink the stuff much anymore.” He yawned. “It’s not as good at keeping me awake as coffee is.” Lewis chuckled quietly and wrapped his hands around the mug as he sipped at the tea. It was still slightly too hot. Lalnable yawned again before propping himself up enough to take a slurp from his mug and then he sank back down onto the table. “D’ya know what time it is?” Lalnable asked through yet another yawn.

“Something like two forty-ish. Probably.” Lewis replied, leaning up against the counter, still hugging the mug with his hands. Silence fell for a moment and Lewis began thinking that Lalnable had fallen asleep, but then he propped himself up to take another drink of his coffee before sliding back down.

“So whad’re’ya doing with that spaceship?” Lalnable murmured, his half open eyes gazing over at Lewis.

“Fixing it.”

“Mm, an’ then?”

“Well, Simon wants to go to the moon, so I guess we’ll be flying it to the moon.” Lewis drank some more of his tea. He still felt slightly uncomfortable about going to space. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been running from something terrible out there.

“That’s pretty cool.” Lalnable sat himself up a bit more and took another slurp; more awake now that the caffeine was starting to kick in. “So it’s just you and Simon working on that thing?” Lewis nodded.

“Yep. Just us two.” Lalnable glanced down into his mug for a brief moment.

“I don’t suppose you’d want some help. I mean I know quite a lot of stuff, and I’m sure I could help you out. Just I haven’t really done much, uh, socialising in the past few years and while I don’t really feel lonely cause I’m mostly just working, you know, but I was thinking that you guys seem nice and maybe I should try to, you know, get out more?” Lalnable’s words were still slow and slightly mumbled as he was still fighting off the tiredness. Lewis stared at him for a moment.

“Well, I don’t see why not.” He shrugged. Of course Simon would have to agree to it too, but Lewis was pretty sure that the dwarf wouldn’t mind another friend joining their little group. “I mean, I could probably do with some help with some of the more technical stuff, and you seem like you know quite a lot about science.” Lalnable grinned.

“I know loads, my parents were both scientists and so I grew up playing in their labs and helping them with experiments. They homeschooled me and taught me everything they knew. And I’ve basically been researching and learning even more in the past few years. So I know loads.” Lalnable was sat up properly now and he downed the last of his coffee before placing the mug down on the table and stretching up. “Well the caffeine has kicked in so I’m going to do some more research.” He got up and headed towards the door. “See you whenever, Lewis.” Lewis raised a hand in farewell as Lalnable strode out of the kitchen, leaving Lewis alone once again.

Lewis finished his tea off quickly and found a place to set the mug down before he too left the kitchen, switching off the light as he went. Walking back through the house seemed less scary now that he knew Lalnable was off somewhere doing some strange experiment. Lewis quickly found his way back to his room, feeling tiredness beginning to creep up on him as he sat himself down on the bed, a yawn breaking out as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. The strange late night conversation with Lalnable had pushed all thoughts of the nightmare from his mind and the mug of tea had made him sleepy. Lewis yawned again as he curled up in the bed, pulling the covers over him. Hopefully he wouldn’t have too much trouble getting to sleep now…

The light coming in through the windows was still grey, cloudy and rainy, but it was brighter than it had been yesterday, Simon noted as he walked through the rooms, searching for signs of life from the others in the house. It was roughly mid morning and he had woken up, slightly peckish and remembering that there was no food, he decided to go hunting for people instead hoping to corral them together so they could head into the nearest town to buy some food. And also possibly to buy some extra clothes; Simon was still wearing his makeshift toga-type outfit from the towel and while it certainly did the job, it would be nice to wear some actual clothes again. His were still far too dirty to consider putting on.

Simon wandered through the house, gazing at the miscellaneous scientific equipment lining each and every room. Eventually he wandered into what he assumed once was a lounge from the large blue sofa shoved up against one wall and a tv sitting beside the sofa. However this room had also been taken over by science with a table filled with beakers and bunsen burners, a couple still lit, the yellow flames flickering brightly in the grey daylight. There was a snore from the sofa and Simon looked over. Lying sprawled half on, half off the sofa and hugging a pillow tightly to his chest was Lalnable, fast asleep. His hair was spread around his head in a tangled mess, almost like a halo as he snored gently again. Simon smirked and moved over to Lalnable and began shaking his shoulder.

“Five more minutes…” Lalnable mumbled sleepily as he tried to bat Simon’s hand away.

“Come on! Wakey, wakey!” Simon exclaimed loudly, continuing to shake Lalnable’s shoulder.

“Gimme five more minutes.” Lalnable mumbled, again batting at Simon. He rolled over sleepily and Simon had to jump out of the way as Lalnable rolled himself onto the floor with a crash. “Fuck!” Simon laughed loudly as Lalnable lay there slightly dazed, still somehow clutching onto the pillow. He sat up, blinking sleepily as he peered at Simon. “What? What time is it?” Simon wiped a couple of tears from his eyes as he stopped laughing.

“Like eleven or something. Mid morning-ish.” He replied.

“Eleven?” Lalnable frowned. “Ugh, I’m going back to sleep.” He began clambering back up onto the sofa but didn’t get far before Simon grabbed his shirt, holding him back. “Hey!”

“Nope, you need to show us where the nearest town is so we can buy some food and eat. I’m starving.” Lalnable groaned loudly and sank to the floor in defeat, Simon letting go of his shirt.

“Fine. I’ll take you into town.” He yawned. “But I’m not moving until you’re both ready to leave.” Simon shrugged.

“Fair enough. I’ll go find where Lewis is.” Lalnable yawned again.

“Alright, I’m going to stay right here…” His eyes closed and Simon shook his head, but left him be as he headed off in search of Lewis.

Simon managed to travel around the entire house until he suddenly thought that maybe Lewis was still in his room; the one place he hadn’t yet checked. Sure enough, when he opened the door he caught sight of Lewis curled up tightly in the bed, still fast asleep. Simon strode into the room and grabbed hold of the covers over Lewis, pulling them off him in one swift motion. Lewis curled up tighter for a moment as his eyes opened slowly.

“What the hell?” He murmured.

“Get up, Lewis! We need to go shopping before I can eat and I’m starving!” Simon called out loudly. Lewis pushed himself into a sitting position and squinted over at Simon.

“Simon?” Lewis yawned. “What time is it, friend?”

“Mid morning-ish. Come on, spaceman, we haven’t got all day.” Lewis yawned again.

“Mm, sure, ok.” He stretched and after he‘d finished he stood up and stretched again. “It was nice sleeping in an actual bed, wasn’t it?”

“I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had for a while.” Simon replied, grinning. “And you seemed to enjoy it rather a lot considering how you were still fast asleep until only a few moments ago.” Lewis smiled sleepily as he wandered into the bathroom.

“It wasn’t completely uninterrupted sleep though. I had a late night conversation with Lalnable when I went to make myself a cup of tea.” Lewis turned on the water and started splashing it in his face.

“Late night being what sort of time?”

“Like two forty-ish.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you were both awake at that time. Although it does make more sense how you were both still fast asleep now.” Lewis chuckled slightly and left the bathroom.

“Lalnable asked me if he could help up fix up the spaceship. I said yes, because I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s going to help us with going to the moon?” Simon asked excitedly. Lewis nodded. Simon squealed. “But what if he starts stealing parts of the spaceship again?” He asked once he’d stopped squealing.

“He’ll be helping us build it, Simon, I hardly doubt that he’ll want to steal anything from it. It would just create more work for him.”

“That’s a good point, Lewis. Anyway, are you ready to go?” Lewis frowned.

“Go? Go where?” Simon turned and walked out of the bedroom, Lewis trailing behind him.

“We’re going into town to buy some food, because unlike you I didn’t have a midnight snack.” Simon said as he headed down the corridor.

“It was hardly a midnight snack. All I had was a cup of tea. And besides that, I’m pretty sure Lalnable doesn’t have any food in this house.”

“Exactly. And I’m starving.” Lewis chuckled and then glanced down at the towel Simon was still wearing.

“Simon, you can’t go into town wearing that.” Simon spun dramatically on the spot and posed in front of Lewis.

“Why not, Lewis?” He said, grinning. “This is the height of fashion I’ll have you know.”

“Simon, it’s a towel-oh never mind.” Lewis said, shaking his head. “Look, just find something to wear, just until we can clean our clothes.”

“Alright, Lewis. Because you asked nicely.” Simon winked and strutted past Lewis back towards his room.

While Simon was changing, Lewis took the opportunity to finish getting up, including trying his best to clean his teeth without a toothbrush, which was a struggle to say the least. When Simon had finally finished changing, he was wearing a pair of trousers held up with a belt that was barely big enough for him and the legs of the trousers had been rolled up so much there was at least as much fabric there as was in the length of actual usable fabric. Both Lewis and Simon were wearing their shoes and they headed downstairs to the room where Lalnable had said he would be waiting for them. Walking into the room, Simon noticed that Lalnable hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor and his mouth was slightly open as quiet snores filled the room.

“Look at this slacker.” Simon said, placing his hands on his hips as he grinned at Lalnable.

“You know I’m not really surprised he’s still asleep. I mean, when I talked with him last night he was waking himself up with a cup of coffee, so god knows what time he actually got to sleep.” Simon shrugged.

“Well, that’s his own fault.” He moved closed to Lalnable. “Wake up! Rise and shine, we’re ready to go!” Lalnable jumped violently as Simon laughed. He sat up frowning at Simon.

“Thanks…” He mumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Simon chuckled.

“You’re welcome.” He swept a low bow. “Now, are you ready to take us into town. You did say you would.” Lalnable groaned and clambered to his feet.

“I hate mornings.” He grumbled angrily as he searched around the room, finding a hair tie and pulling his hair back into a small ponytail, grey bags hanging under his eyes.

“Well, this is hardly morning any more.” Lewis commented as Lalnable moved past the pair and through towards the front door.

“Ha, ha, sure. Anything before one is morning for me.” He yawned. “Well, let’s go.”

Lalnable pulled open the door and glared out at the weather. There was a light drizzle pouring down and a gentle breeze blew the misty rain into the house as Lalnable glared at it.

“We’re going to get absolutely soaked.” He muttered sulkily before he stepped out into the rain. “Close the door behind you.” He called back as Simon and then Lewis followed him out into the rain. Lewis pulled the door shut and they headed off following Lalnable’s lead.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Scribbles part 2

I got a couple of requests for a part two of Scribbles, so here it is. This is what happened the day after.

Please let me know what you think – though keep in mind that English isn’t my first language.

Also let me know if you want on – or off – my tag lists.

Word count: 2352

Mornings never were your forte, but thanks to the wake up light you got for Christmas from Sam, you now woke up from being “caressed by captured sunrays, ready for the day with a smile” or so the box had said.

Slowly realising that the annoying light that pulled you out of your delicious dreams – they had contained a certain Sam, chocolate sauce, and a whole lot of blushing when you thought back on them – was telling you to get your ass out of bed, you groaned and threw your hand out in the hope of smacking the alarm away.

Rubbing your eyes and stretching, you gradually returned to reality, only to stop dead in your movements. You were in your room. In your own bed. That was not where you’d fallen asleep, was it? At least you had no recollection of getting up from your research and going to bed. But stranger things had happened while you were in a half-coma.

The floor was cold underneath your bare feet, and made every hair on your body shiver and rise. And that shiver meant only one thing: time for a cup of coffee while you waited for Dean to emerge from his den, and for Sam to come back from his morning run.

Although you didn’t like mornings in general, mornings like this were your favourites. The bunker was calm and almost cozy, despite the chill in the walls. You were under ground after all. Mornings like these reminded you of the quiet Sundays of your childhood, when things were simple and your hands had not yet picked up a knife with the intent of stabbing another living being (or a dead one, for that matter). They reminded you of how it was to be innocent and unaware of the horrors of the night.

But the main reason mornings like these ranked on to of the mornings list in general, was the chance of seeing Sam on his way to the shower after a workout. You always managed to conceal your stares – but it was impossible to not steal a glance or two (or ten) when he waltzed into the kitchen in just his shorts and a tee, fresh and flushed by crisp air. This was Sam, after all: sometimes you wondered how you managed to stay both upright and coherent around him.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Dean joined you. “Thought I smelled coffee,” he said, combing his fingers through his hair. He yawned widely and rubbed his eyes, which were half glued shut. “Please tell me you made enough for –“

“Of course,” you replied, knowing full well the apocalypse would probably descend on you if you hadn’t. “There’s a full pot over there.”

Dean gave you a light kiss on the top of your head. “Lifesaver.”

“And don’t you forget i—ugh! Serious morning breath, there. Gross!”

“You’re… gross,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “Breakfast?”

“Ooh, yes please! Will you make pancakes for me?”

“Only if you smell the milk first. Last time I felt sick for hours.”

The milk was good, fortunately, because Sam chose the exact moment when you stuck your nose into the carton to enter the kitchen. He shuffled past you to grab a glass of water, and seeing him made your brain fritz out.

His hair was clinging to his sweaty face, and the shirt he’d been running in was completely drenched, and half see-through. It highlighted every line of the hard muscles you knew hid underneath that single layer of fabric.

Much to your embarrassment, you inhaled half the carton of milk, and while you bent over, spluttering and coughing, you heard both of the boys laugh.

“Gross, Sammy,” Dean snickered. “You’re not getting breakfast before you take a shower. No one wants to look at your sweaty ass while eating. Look: Y/N’s already gagging.”

He patted your back and helped you sit down, offering you a towel and a glass of water. Through the bottom of the glass, the distorted image of Sam sending you what looked like a knowing smirk sent all sorts of lightning through your body.

After embarrassing yourself like that, you needed a distraction, so while Dean fixed breakfast, you grabbed your cup and left the kitchen.

Wandering into the library with coffee in hand, you shuffled over to the table to pack your research papers and books you needed for the hunt.

Shaking your head, you chuckled to yourself. Apparently you had been in a deeper coma than you originally thought, because all the books and papers were in neat, little stacks, and you had no memories of doing any of it. But you weren’t complaining. Evening you had done morning you a big favour; all you had to do now was to find your bag.

You’d just closed the zipper when Dean yelled for you and Sam to get your asses down into the kitchen. He even threw in a threat to eat all the pancakes himself if you took too long. Needless to say, both of you came skidding through the door moments later, crashing into each other and getting stuck in the doorway. Dean had to lean on the table for support, he laughed so hard.

The actual meal was uneventful and quiet – the three of you breathing deeply and slowly getting into the right mind-set for the upcoming hunt, and after finishing the dishes, you were seated in the Impala, heading west towards Utah.

The sky was getting dark, and after hours on the road, Sam asked Dean to stop at the next motel. You agreed loudly; your back was stiff and longed to get out of the stuffy car and breathe air that wasn’t saturated with sweat and farts. And when Dean came back, dangling two sets of keys, you all but cried from happiness. You loved spending time with the Winchesters, but you needed time on your own too.

The motel was old and shabby, and you almost expected Junior to come creeping around the corner with a shotgun or a rusty meat hook. But the area was pleasant enough, and there was even a diner and a small cluster of shops within walking distance.

The door creaked when it opened, adding to the whole “scary” vibe the motel had going. It would’ve been fun, but you weren’t entirely convinced it was intentional.

But a room is a room, and a bed is a bed. Hunters can’t afford to be too picky. At least it was clean, although you decided not to check it too closely.

Shaking the numbness out of your butt – a day in an old car will give you that (she might be beautiful, but those shocks could use an upgrade) – you dropped your duffel on the floor and fell backwards onto the bed.

You were going to sleep so damn good, no matter the condition of the mattress. It could’ve had a hole the size of Denver in the middle, and you would still be out as if someone had clocked you.

Using your foot and toes, you wiggled the bag closer, fishing out a t-shirt to sleep in, and your notebook. Might as well read up on the case before saying goodnight.

Next door, Sam and Dean were getting ready for bed too. You could hear their muffled talking, the beds creaking, and the door to the bathroom click shut. Now, normal people probably would’ve gone mad from the constant noise, but to you they were kinda soothing. Knowing that Sam and Dean were there, ready if something should happen, and vice versa, did wonders for your nerves.

Three knocks on the wall – your usual code for “goodnight” – made you smile, and you hurried to answer. It was just a reassurance for all of you, that everything was okay.

Finally you pulled out your notebook, ready to go through the small list you’d jotted down the day before. Maybe you could find something connecting it all now. Most clues fitted better together after a thought break.

“Oh, shit!” You had opened the book to the page you had been scribbling on, and felt heat rise to your cheeks even though nobody was around. What if Dean had seen it? Or worse: Sam? You were lucky you had been careful enough to close the book before you’d stumbled to bed.

Humming to get the embarrassment out of your head, you turned to the next page, ready to start research again – only this wasn’t a blank page like you’d expected. It was filled with swirls and doodles of flowers and hearts, and in the middle of the page, your name mocked you. As a matter of fact, you didn’t recognise the writing, being all artsy and ornate, but a suspect immediately popped into your head.

This had to be Dean’s work. It was certainly his kind of humour, and if he’d seen what you drew, he would probably think it hilarious to mirror it, and give you a small heart attack in the process. You were going to call him out on it the next day, but now? The night called your name, and with the scribbles swimming under your eyelids, you drifted off to sleep.

The notebook was the first thing on your mind when you woke up, and you had to check that it wasn’t just something you had dreamt. The doodles were still there, and you felt the heat of annoyance rise in your body. Dean might not have meant any harm, but the prank was stupid, and you were going to let him know just that. Holding on to that thought, you marched out of your room and, after a small detour, knocked on the boys’ door.

“Morning,” Dean smiled, letting you into their room. “Don’t suppose you brought coffee?” You held out the tray with three cups of take away from the place across the street, and he took one, blowing you a kiss. “You spoil us.” Oh yeah, he was definitely the culprit.

“Sammy’s out,” he continued before slurping the too-hot coffee. “Running,” he explained when you squinted at him. “Probably back soon, though.”

“Hm, yeah. About that… I found… um, when I got out my notebook last night, I noticed someone had… uh, scribbled all over one of the pages,” you began, watching his reaction closely. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Shrugging, he frowned ever so slightly, and sat down his cup on the table. “No. When did you notice this? Do you want me to take a look?”

You shook your head. So it wasn’t him. He even put down the coffee – Dean Winchester didn’t let go of his coffee voluntarily. “Then who?” you asked, running a hand through your hair. “You don’t suppose my notebook is… possessed?”

“What, like the Riddle diary?” he offered with a smile.

“I don’t know,” you replied with a small scoff. “Is that even possible?”

“Never heard of it, but that doesn’t mean… You should probably be careful what you write in it, just in case. Maybe Sam can take a look – you know he loves all sorts of book mysteries.”

Ah, yeah no. Not gonna happen. “We’ll see,” you said with a noncommittal shrug.

Seconds later Sam came bursting through the door, ending the conversation. He grabbed a donut and nodded a good morning to you, before stuffing the whole thing in his mouth and disappearing into the bathroom.

When he got back, Dean was busy laying out the plan for the day, and after a short breakfast, you were all ready to hit the road again.

The door closed behind you, sending a gust of wind through the room; disturbing a small piece of paper on the bed. Tip-toeing over, you carefully reached out and picked it up. It was folded in half, and when you opened it, the only thing written on it was “I love you.”

“The hell?” you muttered, holding the note with trembling fingers. A tiny thought sprang to life in the back of your head, but you didn’t get to fully flesh it out before there was a sharp knock on the door.

Outside stood Sam, his hair still damp, making your heart race like a spooked wildebeest.

“Hi, Sam.” In your head, your voice sounded fake and you tried to swallow the distortion without him noticing.

“Hey,” he replied with a mischievous smile. “You busy?”

You shook your head, standing there like an idiot; simultaneously suspecting why he was there and seriously doubting your conclusion. It was making your brain frizz.

“May I come in? It’s kinda cold out here.” Sam shook his shoulders and pointed past you.

Blinking a couple times, you cleared your throat to find your voice again. “Uh, of – of course.” You stepped back so Sam could enter, and then closed the door; more so you had something to focus on while clearing your thoughts.

“So…” Sam started and gifted you another dazzling smile, making you feel lightheaded and dizzy.

“…so,” was the only thing you could think to answer.

Sam sat down in the chair by the window and looked at you. He really looked at you, and it seemed as if he was trying to read your mind. You felt naked. And oddly enough, you found you didn’t mind that much. It was actually kinda comfortable.

“I’m gonna take a chance and guess that you found my notebook last night.” Your head swam as you voiced your suspicions out loud. They sounded so unreal when you heard your own voice, and you prayed that you weren’t wrong.

“I did,” Sam replied, leaning back to observe your struggles. He enjoyed this, the bastard!

“You wrote this too, then?” Holding out your hand, you let the note fall onto the table.

He took your hand and pulled gently. “I did.”

A smile spread over your face, and you let him pull you onto his lap. Leaning forward a little, your were so close his nose was touching yours. “I love you too.”

“I know.”

Tagging my fantastic crew:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie  @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier  @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @isamthereforeiam @savingapplepie-eatingthings @youtubehelpsmesurvive

[theessaflett]

48 Hours In...OXFORD

Your friendly neighbourhood Essa has a look round the town known from…so many things, from the hit TV programme Lewis to being the home of Tolkien, C.S. Lewis and many more generally famous people

Day 1

My trip to Oxford started a little differently to how I’d initially planned. Cramming toast into my mouth as I stuffed clothes into a rucksack and tried to get my shoes on at the same time, a feat at which I attempt to succeed probably too many mornings in an average week for someone now old enough to be very comfortably in the “mid-twenties” age bracket, I hastily checked Google Maps for the best way to get to Oxford in time for my 2.30pm booked museum ticket and discovered that due to planned engineering works the “Oxford Tube” was going to have to be my transport of choice. Great, thought I. It must be a fast track train.

Dear reader, I was wrong. When Google Maps cheerfully led me to a bus stop outside Marble Arch station I realised just how wrong I was. Somehow, for whatever unidentifiable reason, the “Oxford Tube” is a bus. (Or a “luxury coach”, if you believe their website.) As someone who gets travel sick at the best of times, never mind on what was going to be a  nearly-two hour bus journey, I wasn’t thrilled by this development but did cheer up when I discovered that a Youth Return would now cost me only £13 - and it was valid for an entire month so if I decided that Oxford was actually much nicer than London and I would just stay there, thank you very much, I would admittedly have several things to sort out but another bus ticket wouldn’t be one of them.

The luxury coach experience turned out to be, if not fully luxury, decidedly acceptable: there were fancy lights that went on in the roof when the sky became so dark with heavy rain the bus thought that it was night time; the seats were definitely clean; there were USB plug sockets everywhere you looked and an on-board loo. The only real issue was the fact that whoever had decided on the on-board thermostat temperature that morning clearly thought we were on the brink of the next Ice Age and there were no windows to yank open to ease the oppressive heat. Red-faced and sweaty, I eventually cracked and tried pushing all of the frightening- looking buttons above me. Five minutes later, I had switched two brutally harsh little lights on  - and thankfully had managed not to set off any alarms - but had failed to work the air-con. It was a very warm journey…

After seeing many, many highways and byways of London suburbs and rolling English countryside  we finally arrived in Oxford Bus Station. It was wet. It was cold. It was, in fact, exactly the same weather as the last time I visited Oxford. I trudged through a square full of wet leaves and sad looking trees and along a few side streets, unusually ending up exactly where I wanted to be: outside the Ashmolean Museum. I was, however, very early for my timed ticket so nipped over to the Odeon across the road and sat in Costas watching cold-looking people hurry past the window as I slurped my tea. Now, what happened next could have been forewarned had I only joined enough dots in my head as I sat there enjoying being warm. …After all, the hanging banners proclaiming Bible verses, “Welcome to Hill Song!” pop-up signs and the two display tables of Hill Song paraphernalia might, just possibly, have given me a small clue that there might be something to do with Hill Song currently happening in the building - and yet, it was still somewhat a surprise to suddenly find myself re-enacting Mufasa’s death scene from the Lion King (if Mufasa had been a bemusedly alarmed young woman sitting with a cup of tea and the antelopes hipster Christians proclaiming the Lord’s salvation to each other as they poured out of Cinema 1 to the sound of loud rock music). I downed my tea and dodged outside away from the manic grins of the “Official Church Greeters” and towards the impressive grandeur of the Ashmolean.

It is hard to describe how awe-inspiringly large the The Ashmolean is. As you walk past the modern, spiky dog-like sculptures and through the towering front doors it’s easy to imagine previous visitors through the centuries also craning their heads up to look at the ceiling high above them and making the universal “Ooooooohhhhhh” noise that humans make when they’re in somewhere really big. However, the Victorians probably weren’t stopped by an over-zealous security guard who was very suspicious about my admittedly massive rucksack and wanted me to wear it on my front like some sort of kangaroo. That was not going to work so I ended up finding the lockers - deep in the bowels of the building - to dump my stuff. (Word of warning: your £1 gets donated to the Ashmolean on your behalf! Don’t spend an embarrassing amount of time scrabbling around trying to find where your £1 went like I did.)

After spending a quick fifteen minutes looking round the “Founding of the Ashmolean Museum” exhibit on the bottom floor (fifteen minutes barely scratched the surface) I then trekked up the three floors to the SpellBound exhibition. If my first impression had been that the museum was large, I now mentally expanded that to bloody massive. I would recommend always having an idea of what it is that you want to see if you go to the Ashmolean, otherwise you might start your day on the Islamic Art floor and discover that you had somehow only made it to Medieval Glassworks by hour four. As my timed ticket turned out to be a very strictly timed ticket I killed some time in the exhibition shop (yes, every floor has its own shop. It’s very lavish.) looking at the toy skulls and DIY Spell Books. My vague thought that the Ashmolean didn’t seem to be treating the subject of spells and witchcraft particularly seriously was confirmed by reading a note written by a practising pagan and pinned on the feedback board with some annoyance. “I felt like this exhibition laughed at my religion,” Jeremy the Pagan complained. “Next time maybe ask for advice from real Pagans first!! Very insulting.” Poor Jeremy. I could see what he meant as I perused the gimmicky sage bundles, black cat design socks and  and “Which Witch Are You?” colouring books… Now even more curious to see what the exhibition was going to be like, my sketch book and I (phones weren’t allowed inside) headed in with a woman that was either into Gothic Paganism or just really liked long velvet coats, dark lipstick and black heeled boots. I spent two hours looking round the exhibition and gamely trying to draw everything I found interesting  - and gathering a small crowd of people staring at me and pointing out their favourite sketches as I did…slightly unnerving - and these are my thoughts on what SpellBound had to offer…

First of all, the first thing that really stood out about this exhibition was how dark it was, and I mean that literally. The lighting was virtually non-existent, two out of three of the rooms virtually completely dark apart from the weak glow of the exhibit cabinets. I didn’t notice it until I heard an elderly man grumbling about it and threatening to file an official complaint form and then it was all I could think about. Was it too dark? Very possibly. Did it add atmosphere? Probably. Did I nearly bump into someone several times? Yes, and I wasn’t the only one.

There were some pretty gruesome exhibits and quite a lot of children being traumatised by them. Now, as someone who had a “sitting in graveyards reading Poe phase” in my early teens and was obsessed with Marcus Sedgewick books from the age of eleven I’m all for children experiencing Gothic things. However, having a DRIED-UP HUMAN HEART cheerfully sitting in the same cabinet as old books and mystic mirrors without any warning whatsoever seemed slightly bold for an exhibition with no age rating! “Dad,” I heard a horrified seven year old whisper. “Dad. It’s a heart. It’s a heart, Dad. IT’S A HEART, LIKE, FROM A PERSON.” Beautiful family memories in the making, right there.

There were some token gestures here and there - a poppet from Scotland, a witch scarer charm from Africa - but the overall country of origin of the exhibits was English, and the history told was the history primarily of English witchcraft. Was this a bad thing? Not necessarily since we were in an English museum, but it might have been worth advertising it as a exhibition of English Witchcraft rather than Witchcraft in general.

There were two very confusing modern art installations. Several people, including myself, sat in both of them waiting for the installation to start for quite a long time before realising that what we thought was the “loading screen” was, in fact, the actual installation.

My favourite part of the exhibition was a very large (and did I mention, dark) room full of the stashes of objects found in walls and under floorboards across the UK, largely in England, mysterious piles of objects that seem to have been intended as a sort of good luck charm for the house. I was surprised by how uneasy I felt about the idea of these “good fortune bundles” being taken out of their carefully chosen places and found myself wondering if the house minded after having them for so many years. (Yes, I’m sure this sounds very silly, but do bear in mind I’d been listening to the “eerily atmospheric soundscape” track and creeping around shadowy rooms for over an hour by this point.) The caches showed fascinating insights into everyday objects of different eras - the last cache being from around 1915, which I found surprisingly recent - and just about made up for the fact that there was also a mummified cat and mouse with their dried-up guts in clear view also in pride of place with a cabinet all to themselves. “DAD, THERE’S A DEAD CAT IN THIS ROOM!!!” That poor kid will be bringing this up in therapy for years to come.

The most striking absence in the exhibition was the lack of a “modern witch-craft” section. There was the medieval room, the 17th century room, the 18th and 19th century room and then that, pretty much, was it apart from a poppet doll someone made in 1915 to try and kill their neighbour and a small display cabinet about fraudulent physics of the 1920s. No wonder Jeremy was annoyed. …Now, I personally am not someone who practices the Pagan faith. But I know people who do, and to them their religion is something real, relevant, and very much valid. Paganism deserves to be treated with the same respect as Christianity, Islam and other major religions, and I did sort of feel like an entire exhibition that focussed on all the different ways “witches” (often just unfortunate non-magic-practising women) were horribly persecuted for practising witchcraft and then ignored the fact that here in the twenty-first century witches now peacefully worship across England and beyond missed a trick in an opportunity for a more positive ending section. Maybe they just felt it wasn’t in keeping with the “horror vibe”.

The Ashmolean cafe shut at the very-not-London time of 4.30pm so after rescuing my stuff from the locker and buying the obligatory souvenir postcard I headed off to my accommodation, Oxford Backpackers Hostel. Oxford Backpackers Hostel is exactly what one might expect for £17. It is mostly clean, offers a communal kitchen with free tea and coffee and there’s a reassuring lack of mice, but the sad lack of plugs and heaters makes for a slightly old-fashioned experience of everyone waiting to use the common room sockets whilst huddled against the radiator. My four-person dorm was mixed so I was with two guys - which was particularly memorable when I rolled over early the next morning and accidentally caught an eyeful of the member of my lower bunk getting dressed right in the middle of the room - and the hostel communal bathroom floor looked disgusting enough for me to decide that I could go 48 hours without a shower. (I was particularly glad of this decision when I heard a sound from one of the shower cubicles that was almost definitely someone taking a dump. Definitely one of those “once experienced, never forgotten” moments.)

After shivering next to the plug socket for a while to charge my phone I headed out to find the Eagle & Child pub, famous for being the favoured writing spot of C.S. Lewis and Tolkien. After getting thoroughly and needlessly confused by the ordering system  - turns out it operates on the Wetherspoon system of knowing your table number and then going to the till, not my system of going to the till first and getting confused about why the nice lady is asking you for “your number”…misunderstanding directions to the water jugs and trying to find a clean glass in the pile of plates waiting to be put in the dishwasher and then being shouted at by a confused member of staff also optional  - I sat down in what is definitely a gloriously old-timey pub. Full of low-hanging timbers of stained dark wood, the seats lined with creaking old leather, the building is not your average open space but a a snaking pathway full of tables tucked away in odd corners, many next to log fires and lopsided book cases. It wasn’t hard to imagine Tolkien dreaming up a Hobbit’s cosy house somewhere in here, or C.S. Lewis writing about Mr Tumnus and Lucy having tea. My veggie burger came with quite limp sweet potato chips so I don’t know if I’d recommend the food, but I would recommend going for a pint. (Ideally with a LOTR or Narnia book to really get the full experience!)

I finished off my first day in Oxford with a trip to the cinema. Not the tiny Odeon I’d accidentally discovered that morning, but a bigger one on George Street which only had large popcorn containers left so I ended up being given a medium popcorn for the price of a small. I already liked this cinema. Myself and three other people watched the admittedly quite bad Johnny English film…slightly annoying as I’d paid extra to splash out on a “Premium Seat” (which turned out to just be a normal seat coloured red rather than black) when I could’ve paid for a normal ticket and then lain across four premium seats underneath a duvet. In my PJs. I’m not sure whether it’s because I’ve ended up having my mini-break in a very compact area of Oxford of if Oxford is actually this small, but after the cinema I discovered that I had a total of five minutes to walk back to the Backpackers Hostel so that was a cheerful end to a highly enjoyable first day. (Well, it wasn’t quite the end of the day. My actual end to the day was trying to watch Doctor Who on my laptop next to the free common room plug socket at midnight, surrounded by high 20-year-olds listening to a Reggae version of “Don’t Stop Me Now”. Yes, I also had several questions about what decisions led to a Reggae version of a Queen masterpiece but I have to admit by the end of the track I didn’t hate it…It was definitely, I decided, time to go to bed.)

Day 2

After lying in bed for half an hour listening to one of my dorm-mate’s chirpy bird alarm (unfortunately the alarm woke me up rather than him. The only other person still in the dorm, I considered trying to wake him up myself but then decided the fact that he seemed to have gone to bed in his suit without even taking his shoes off suggested that he might not be very happy and possibly angrily hungover at whoever woke him up…) I called it quits on trying to sleep and headed out for the day, downing the only thing this gluten and dairy intolerant vegetarian could have from their free breakfast table: a glass of watery orange squash. I headed onto Oxford high street and soon had more success in my breakfast options at possibly the fanciest Pret I have ever seen in my life. 

Eating my granola pot in a building that looked like a set piece from a Shakespearean costume drama from the outside and like a particularly posh London cafe inside was definitely fun, and after charging everything electronic I could possibly think of with their definitely less dodgy-looking plugs I headed off to my first museum of the day, the Pitts Rivers Museum. (With a very quick detour into the church next door, which was quicker than anticipated due to the fact that I popped my head in five minutes before a 50-minute organ recital was due to start and, although beautiful, the church was not quite interesting enough to keep me entertained through that much Bach.)

I got a more normal amount of lost on my way to the Pitts Williams museum and therefore enjoyed lots of windy side streets and passageways, the bright blue sky, leafy trees full of autumnal colours, cobbled pavements and brightly painted old buildings making me feel like I was in the televised Lewis version of Oxford rather than the real thing. Where was the bad weather and average buildings I was used to experiencing in this city?! In the end I realised where my destination confusion was coming from; the Museum of Natural History, the building in which the Pitts Williams museum resides, only had one small sign next to a whole load of much bigger warning signs about parking and loitering, and the massive building I had wrongly assumed was part of a university block was in fact what I was looking for. 

One squelchy walk across the muddy quad later I was inside the Natural History museum and my- it was pretty spectacular. A vaulted ceiling stretched upwards with seemingly no end, the glass panels making the museum space bright and full of light, and under this majestic dome there were skeletons of practically any and all impressively large animal that has ever been known to humankind. Dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes, whales, bears, bison, not one but two elephants (I personally had no idea elephants were that big) - if it was large, they had the skeleton. If that wasn’t enough they also had enough unnerving taxidermy to fulfil the dreams of even the wildest enthusiast of icky dead animals and an absolutely gigantic 3D model of E. Coli hanging from the ceiling. Truly something for all the family.

After wandering around for a bit I found the entrance to the Pitts Williams museum at the back, looking a little unexciting after my journey through Stegosaurus and Triceratops bones, and stepped through into what can only be described as an alternate world. The bright, cheerful sunlight of the main museum space was replaced with dim gloom, my eyes straining to pick out what exactly was in front of me. And then, as my sight adjusted, I realised what I was looking at: a sprawling floor space full to the brim of dozens upon dozens of glass cabinets, some tall, some small, some lining the walls, the rest crammed together side by side across the massive hall. Looking up, I realised that the two levels above me were also equally full of items. This was going to be a pretty intense museum. The problem about there being that much stuff is that it is literally impossible to absorb even 50% of what you’re looking at. It took me twenty minutes to notice a totem pole that stretched to the top floor!

 The Pitts Williams is a museum dedicated to learning about the human experience, and it certainly takes that description to heart. If humans do something, there will be an exhibit about it - I found two glass cabinets for dulcimers alone in the music section, which did seem to be edging on overkill. One thing about the Pitts Williams was obvious right from the word go however, and it needs to be said. It is, without question, a deeply, deeply creepy museum. 

Possibly one of the top three creepy museums I have ever been to, and I have been to a museum dedicated to dead animals in jars. 

As I wandered alone through row upon row of ancient war masks, dolls, mummies and, god forbid, puppets, it was hard to find the most unsettling part of the museum  - until I found it, the unequivocally most disturbing exhibit of them all. The cabinet called, “Treatment of Dead Enemies”. The title itself is nightmare fuel, but when I suddenly realised that what I was looking at was the skulls of two murdered children a warrior had tied to some sacred feathers and bits of wood so that they swung outside his hut as a warning to others, and that those skulls were surrounded by other mummified heads, I suddenly decided that it might be a good idea for this to be lunchtime. Outside. Suddenly SpellBound’s dried human heart didn’t seem all that bad.

I slightly queasily made my way back out to the soggy quad and ate my unexciting lunch of gluten-free oatcakes, nervously looking out for rain. I had just one last stop on my sightseeing checklist; the Bodleian Library.

The Bodleian was also puzzlingly difficult to find, until it suddenly wasn’t difficult to find at all; I was looking for the building I’d once visited as part of a Broadside Ballad conference (I know, I live an exciting life), but that was actually just the modern library. Once I’d turned round, looked properly at all those big old buildings across the road and realised that they were all part of the Bodleian library it became very easy to find indeed…  The Bodleian is an awe-inspiring complex of really quite ridiculously beautiful buildings. 

As impressive now as it was when first built, I started off wandering around the main square taking photos but ended up just standing in the middle staring around, ruefully accepting that no phone camera was going to capture the majesty of the 17th century architecture. Most of the library isn’t open to the public but a a £6 ticket gets you a 30 minute sneak peek at what’s inside, so I joined a various assortment of tourists, waved my E- ticket and walked through the grand wooden doors to find out just how much like a Harry Potter set it actually looked on the inside. (It would look very much indeed like a Harry Potter set, I discovered; many HP scenes were actually filmed at the Bodleian.)

After a bit of a rocky start where the guide tried to get a French woman who was very clearly fluent in English to take a translation booklet despite the woman telling her multiple times that she didn’t need a booklet because she could speak English (she then moved onto apologising slowly and clearly to the Finnish tourist that they didn’t have a Finnish leaflet, which the Finn thought was very funny. Clearly the guide has never been to Finland!) we dumped our stuff in the obligatory stuff dump box - the woman with the massive trundly suitcase posed a bit of a problem - and fought with our fiddly personal microphones so we could hear the guide’s whispered talking in the quieter sections of the library. We all trooped up the stairs to the original heart of the library, dating from the 15th century, and the 17th century extension built on by Bodleian, still used as a working library by students at Oxford. I’m conscious I’ve already used a lot of words to try and describe big, impressive things during this short trip so I’ll just save time and say that the library was all of the words I’ve used so far, combined. Endless bookcases of gorgeous dark wood and intricately painted panels were everywhere, as were the books; big, fat tomes that stood there proudly row upon row, as they had for four hundred years and will hopefully for centuries to come. We all behaved ourselves and the trip passed without incident apart from one poor German tourist being shouted at by the security guard for sitting on a chair that looked very inviting but was seemingly not for sitting, and before long we were all plodding back down the staircase away from book nirvana. If you’re ever in Oxford I would really recommend paying £6 to have a look, even if you just want to see what heaven looks like for 25 minutes.

My trip was nearly at an end, and I wandered along Oxford high street with a real sense of sadness at leaving what I now realised is a very attractive city. Turns out nice weather, not too much stuff to carry and appropriate clothing can do the world of wonders for one’s view of a place! I ducked into the Indoor Market and discovered a baffling, intricate maze of shops, ranging from local butchers and bakers to an upmarket garden ornaments store, and ended up at a tiny Korean cafe called Jeong’s Dosirak, ordering what my £5 could buy: a Kimbab. 

Unsure as to what kimbab was exactly, I was very much surprised to discover that I had bought quite a lot of what I would have called sushi, though I didn’t at all regret the choice as I munched my way through the generous helping on a bench outside. Clearly £5 gets you a lot more for your money here compared to London! 

The only thing left to do before getting the bus back to London was head into a Starbucks to charge my phone and check my emails as I started to re-enter working life. As I settled back in my seat on the Oxford Tube-which-is-actually-a-bus and watched the city disappear behind me, I sent it a mental apology for being initially unfair. Oxford is full of interesting things, and it’s really quite beautiful. Particularly when it’s not raining.

What Essa saw:

Ashmolean Museum (Entrance Free, SpellBound Under 25s ticket £6) 

https://www.ashmolean.org/spellbound

Eagle & Child Pub 

https://www.nicholsonspubs.co.uk/restaurants/southeast/theeagleandchildoxford

Oxford Natural History Museum (Entrance Free)

https://www.oumnh.ox.ac.uk/ 

Bodleian Libraries (Some areas Entrance Free, Tours from £6)

https://www.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/

Where Essa Stayed: 

Oxford Backpackers Hostel (rooms from £15 per night)

http://www.hostels.co.uk/