#and my tattoos sore so everything together makes for a fun night

[kirishwima]

im in that weird state where i DONT have a cold, i do NOT have the flu but like. i can feel my immune systems weakened? so im just gulping down vitamins and staying warm and hoping itll go back to normal soon bc my body can n o t stand another illness this winter

[ryosmne]

You're gonna fry your brain.

Hello everyone, since it's finals season and we're all probably really dead inside, I decided to self indulge in some tattoo artist! Sukuna writing, so here's this brainrot that won't let me focus on studying. You can read more of this au in the au masterlist.

I've been trying so hard to finish up a bartender! Dabi fic I have in the works for too long, hopefully I can get around to it too. After finals are done I'll be writing a lot more that's for sure.

Tattoo artist! Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings: language, suggestive tones, that's it.

Finals are by far the worst thing about college, y/n knows that the hard way. She's been stressing herself out for the past few days, maybe weeks, going over the same material again and again. She'd constantly argue that she really needs to pass with an high grade that's why she's so obsessive over it.

Sukuna had tried multiple times to help her ease her nerves, he's been there, although he was the type who never really stuck his nose in a book for too long, regardless, his best girl needed a break, no matter how hard she denied it.

Y/n had declined his invitations of going out, she dropped by the shop a few times, bringing Sukuna some food, but he could tell she was slowly burning herself up.

Today was no different, y/n had been writing everything down all day to help memorize it better. So many hours has passed since she started her study session but she didn't even notice that her clock read 8 pm already.

Sukuna did notice, y/n had been barely responding back to his texts and it was time he took matters into his own hands.

The earpiercing doorbell pulled y/n out of her trance like state, she quickly got up from her desk to go and get rid of whoever just rung it.

"Dollface, I was beginning to think you had died in there."

There was Sukuna, leaning in her doorframe, looking as good as he always did, in a plan white t shirt and a gray pair of sweatpants, holding a few bags and a huge basket.

"not quite, what's all this?"

Y/n motioned to the bags he had.

"Nothing much, just some things I picked up for you, will you let me in? this basket is fucking heavy."

No, the basket wasn't that heavy, Sukuna could carry it just fine, he just wanted to make sure that y/n didn't have a chance to deny him.

Y/n stepped aside to let Sukuna in, and he went straight to her kitchen, dropping his bags on the table.

"Thanks for dropping by babe, but I really need to finish the last three chapters I have left."

"Y/n, you're going to fry your brain at this rate, no more studying for today."

"But-"

"No buts, you won't read another sentence today. We're destressing together."

Turns out, Sukuna had brought over many different things. He's not the type of guy to shy away from anything, so the first thing he did was to grab y/n and drag her into her bathroom.

Sukuna had taken mental notes the first time he looked through y/n's skincare products, he was able to determine her skin type and he went a bit crazy, buying her different things to try out.

"You are insane, that's drunk elephant, why did you get this many things?"

"Because you have the really terrible cheap stuff, now shut up you're going to eat the soap if you keep talking with cleanser all over your face."

Now, y/n's skincare wasn't bad, Sukuna had expensive taste and he's a bit of a brand snob

Sukuna gently poked her cheek with a smile as y/n's face distorted because she had in fact tasted the cleanser and Sukuna could only laugh at her before she flicked some into his mouth too.

"Don't kiss me with a face mask on you brat"

Y/n let out a soft laugh, Sukuna was doing his best to concentrate at the task at hand. Matching y/n's nail polish to his. Y/n had just finished painting his, matte black like he requested but y/n gave him some white polish on his ring finger. Sukuna had argued for a bit, saying it didn't look good and that he didn't like it, but gave in after y/n gave him a puppy face, can you blame him?

"But you look so cute like that."

Y/n complained, knowing that this little comment was going to feed Sukuna's ego more.

"I know doll, but artificial orange doesn't taste as good as it smells."

Y/n once again wasn't wrong, his cocky attitude always creeped in at times, not that she minded.

Time passed fast with watching trash reality shows on y/n's couch, after their very own self care day, Sukuna made sure to fix something they could both eat. Now they were engolved in each others arms, y/n's sleepy eyes staring up at him.

"How are you feeling, doll?"

Sukuna's hand found her hair, gently resting on top of her head.

"Much better, you're the best you know that?"

"I've heard it once or twice, I'll give you reasons to say it more often"

He gave her a gentle smile, leaning closer to steal a kiss, a little more intimate than the ones they shared earlier.

" 'Kuna, I'm sorry I was so stressed and distant this week, I probably worried you-"

"Don't be stupid, it's ok, I just want you to know I'm here for you, and it's just finals. You're a smart cookie, I'm sure you'll do great."

Y/n found his words reassuring and nuzzled closer to him, letting her lungs burn with his scent that never got less intoxicating.

"Thank you 'kuna, what would I do without you?"

The last few words came out slurred, but Sukuna understood everything, y/n's breathing got steadier against him.

"I don't know doll I'm just glad to have you here, I promised to take good care of you."

And just like that, y/n was fast asleep next to him, he didn't mind her uncomfortable couch one bit all he cared about was how at peace she looked. Maybe he would move her to her bed later, he couldn't bring himself to do it now.

The next morning, y/n found herself on her bed, Sukuna had almost woken her up getting ready before he left to go to work, but he managed to put her right back to sleep with a kiss on the forehead and a light "don't wake up yet doll".

Y/n made her way to the kitchen, Sukuna usually left a little letter for her on the nightstand by the bed, he must've been in a rush today.

Not quite the case.

Sukuna not only made her, her favourite breakfast, he also left post it notes in some places.

You suck at food shopping, thank me later.

Was written on her fridge.

So that's what all the bags were for, y/n didn't find out last night because of how tired she was, and how much fun she had being around sukuna.

He had filled up her fridge with everything she ever needed to make a meal for herself or have a snack. Let's be honest Sukuna just wanted to cook for her again.

Another post it was found in her bathroom cabinet.

You're probably gonna get mad at me for this but I'm not sorry, you deserve it.

The poor cabinet was stuffed to the brim with brand name skincare that made anyone's wallet scream in anguish and a lot of bathbombs. Upon closer look y/n almost cried at how attentive Sukuna was, he took extra care to look out for her skins needs.

Y/n found the last post it on her desk while she did her revision.

Don't overwork yourself doll, you've got me for that.

Y/n brought Sukuna cupcakes from seven different bakeries to try that day.

Bonus Domain shenanigans: "Sukuna left early again?"

Megumi asked, the day had been going pretty slow he wasn't surprised his friend dipped.

"Yeah, he left this behind though."

Geto held up a very nice looking white shop bag, a slight glimmer in his eye let the rest of his friends know he planned something.

"So? What's in it anyways?"

Gojo was resting his chin on his hand, blank expression on his face, completely unamused by Geto's discovery.

"Give me that"

Nanami swiftly snatched the bag, curious to see what was inside of it. He reached in and retrieved several wrapped round objects.

"Bathbombs?"

He questioned puzzled, but then his lips tugged upward.

Megumi, Nanami, Gojo and Geto, each got two bathbombs, and even though they would outright say it, they were pretty damn exited to drop them in their bathtubs. That's what Sukuna gets for avoiding clean up.

Sukuna entered the shop barely greeting anyone and begun looking around. Fuck he was looking for something, everyone tried to keep their composure.

"Have you seen a white bag?"

He finally looked at the group of men before him.

"like a backpack? No "

Megumi spoke, Sukuna begun thinking he was remembering everything wrong, that's untill he saw something sticking out of Geto's pocket. That's for sure a bathbomb he bought for y/n

"You motherfuckers, how low can you stoop to steal my girls bathbombs?"

Hey it's me again, though I'd add that here, if you have specific skin demands I tried to cover that in here so everyone can enjoy it, I have lots of allergies and skin concerns so I'm kinda sensitive to that stuff. Hope you had fun reading, remember to take it easy, untill next time :>

Tag list: (comment or message me and I’ll gladly add you)

@artist4theworld @skatercashew

@divineteaty

@in-inception

@not-another-ackerman

@jjk-is-my-shit @ilovemarvel99

@thegaymadafakkasworld @readinghassavedmylife @ruler-of-the-skies

@bluebananasssss

@ghost-of-todoroki

@sabsaocit

@heaveus

@jackysenpaii @rebenok-zimnayaya

@aam1na @sore-eyes@ryan249057 @goobygoobster @charlie-xo @kamisamaundercover

@shadoweepingscream

@sunfloweroranges

@haleypearce

@crapimahuman

@fiona782

@levi-ships-eruri

@chocolatecake764

@stupid-simp33 @ciphersighs

[irrelevantwriter]

White Flag

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, slightly vulnerable Rio, declaration of feelings (sorta?)

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Part 5. Two months without seeing or speaking to Rio has left a significant mark and feelings finally decide to show themselves. Kinda.

A/N: I hope everyone had a good holiday or at least a chill Friday. I come bearing gifts with the next part of our favorite toxic saga. More smut for my lovely readers. But first, some plot. We jump right into it and just like our favorite non-couple, we gloss over a lot of bullshit and get right to the filth. But as a Virgo I love communication so I have to make these two stubborn assholes talk about their issues a little. At least in a vague way. Also, Rio has his read receipts on bc he is a petty king. There’s one more part after this and it's all naughty fun from here. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

A/N dos: I’m thinking about making the next part strictly from Rio’s POV. I feel like it’ll give us a peek into what he’s thinking and a new take on the series thus far. I’m excited to explore that so let me know what you guys think!

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 6 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*********************

“So you’re just gonna eye fuck the hot stranger at the bar all night?”

Your friend’s teasing cut through the haze, jolting you back to the dimly lit bar. The music boomed around you while people drank and danced, enjoying the Saturday night out in the same way you and your girlfriends were.

“I was not.” You insisted, though the coy smile you wore said otherwise.

The group of women scoffed and rolled their eyes, seeing right through your faux innocence.

“Besides,” You started, taking a sip of your drink as the song changed into a bass heavy melody. “He’s not even my type.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Kara interjected with a raised brow, shaking her head.

You opened your mouth in surprise, but bit back your response when the other women chimed in.

“She’s right.” Evelyn agreed, throwing her dark hair over one shoulder.

“We knew you in high school and college, remember?” Nikki threw in, pursing her lips knowingly in your direction.

“Okay, so?” You said with a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“You were all over guys like that when we were kids. Paul ended up being the black sheep of the bunch.” Kara reminded you with a laugh, Evelyn and Nikki joining in with their own drunken giggles.

“Yeah, we were convinced you’d marry a felon with tattoos and not a real estate broker who wore khakis.” Nikki quipped, causing another round of laughter and snorts.

“Okay, okay...I get it. So I had a type. I think I’ve grown out of it.” You cut in, sounding as if you were trying to convince them as much as yourself.

“Not if the hottie at the bar has anything to say about it.” Evelyn joked with a wink.

You shook your head as you took another sip of your drink, unwilling to let them see you flustered. Or that they were in fact correct. You definitely still had a thing for bad boys...bad men to be more specific.

The evening had been going smoothly so far. It was a rare girl’s night out. An event that happened only once every five years when kids were shuttled off to babysitters or their fathers, and the women were able to enjoy an adult meal with adult beverages. Schedules between four busy women didn’t often align so when they did, you all jumped at the chance to indulge in the nightlife you’d left behind in your younger years.

You’d been the one to suggest the bar. It was a swanky, sophisticated space with an air of youth. The perfect mix for your outing. You’d been here only one other time.

With Rio.

Thinking of the man made heat pool low in your stomach, despite your lingering frustrations. It’d been two months since that shit show of a night at your house. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. After that debacle, you blocked his number. As childish as it may have been, you were angry. Still were. And rightfully so. He’d been a complete dick. He’d chosen the most inopportune moment to make adjustments to your arrangement. He’d been careless in his deliverance, harsh even. The entire exchange had you questioning everything. And instead of analyzing the situation and communicating like adults, you’d decided to stop all interactions with him. You’d wanted to send a message. Just as he had with you.

After the argument, you’d been an anxious mess in the days leading up to the next drop. But it was all for nothing because Rio wasn’t there. And neither was the new contact he’d told you about. Instead, Mick was waiting for you and offering up no other information. And it’d been that way for two long months.

In the days since, your mind wandered to Rio often. Your body lingered on his phantom presence constantly. You replayed the conversation you’d had a million times over and each time it made deep fury spill over and mix with the lust still raging like white water rapids through your veins. You missed his touch. Missed his desire for you. Missed the way he made you feel, so supremely sexual and wanton. All things you’d been lacking in your marriage. And now they were suddenly hitting you square in the face and begging you to pay attention. Begging you to not lose the source of your sudden awakening.

You missed the toxicity of your interactions. You were two twisted souls fighting for control over a situation that belonged to neither of you. And in truth, the basis of your relationship with Rio was denial and attraction. It would continue to thrive on that as long as you both refused the obvious.

So maybe, just maybe you’d come to the bar in hopes of seeing him in order to test that theory. It was a slim chance he’d even be here, but you were just buzzed enough that you were willing to roll the dice and find out. Plus, your desire for him felt like an extension of your body at this point. You had to satiate it. Had to feed the raw passion that grew stronger each day without him. It demanded it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. But your own hand didn’t ignite your body the same way his did, asshole or not.

“I’ll be back.” You called over the music, gesturing to the darkened hallway that predictably led to the bathrooms. Your friends nodded and went back to flirting with the handsome blue-eyed waiter.

You shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the bar. To the “hot stranger”. Whether or not he’d take the hint was on him.

You made it to the single-use bathroom easily. It wasn’t late enough for it to be crowded with the surge of a Saturday night crowd, but the place was still busy. You set your purse down on the sleek surface of the sink counter, admiring the emerald green tiles that paved the walls. The fixtures were brass and gleamed in the light of the vanity bulbs. It was a beautiful space. Carefully crafted for a magazine like Architectural Digest.

Your eyes swept over your reflection in the large mirror that sat over the sink. You made sure not a lash was out of place as you surveyed your appearance. You adjusted the low neckline of your yellow dress, the hue radiating more gold than you’d initially noticed. The silk material felt cool against your heated skin, the slit in the skirt offering some relief. The long sleeves of the garment added a sleekness to the otherwise risqué ensemble. You’d never worn the dress. But tonight seemed as good a time as any to debut it.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made you pause, eyes watching in the mirror for who entered. You wondered if it’d be him. Wondered if he ended up following you like you’d hoped.

Your stomach knotted when Rio stepped in, closing the door and locking it with a resounding click. He was stoic. Shrouded in black and looking every bit as menacing as he truly was. A sight for your sore eyes.

You turned to face him, your chest both tightening and expanding at seeing him in the flesh. He made your heart stutter and your spine tingle, yet irritation slowly seeped into your pores, reminding you of the last interaction you’d had with him. It was a clash of sensations and feelings. It was utter chaos. And it's what you’d been missing.

Silence hung in the air as his gaze roamed your figure, appraising you hungrily. You shivered, careful to hide the gesture from his intense stare. You schooled your features and angled your chin up in confidence that you weren’t entirely sure you felt. But you weren’t going to budge. You were going to make him come to you.

He was leaning up against the door, a barely there smirk adorning his lips. His scent began to eclipse the smell of vanilla soap that permeated the air. Your eyes wanted to roll back at the familiarity of it. It was soothing. A comfort to your deprived senses.

“You miss me, mama?”

That deep rasp made your panties soak immediately. It was a question he’d asked you many times in the past, but you’d never felt it as much as you did now. Because yeah, you did fucking miss him.

You stayed silent.

He chucked at your refusal to answer. “Still mad at me?”

Again you said nothing.

He licked his lips, eyeing yours as he did. “I tried calling.”

“I blocked your number.” You finally responded, voice icy and detached.

“Damn, that’s cold.” He said with an amused shake of his head and a laugh, the sound making your nipples harden in traitorous lust.

“Why? Did you need something?” You questioned coolly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your mounting arousal. Your thighs rubbed together, beginning to slid against each other as your arousal made itself known.

He stepped forward, heading in your direction with intent. You straightened your back, unwilling to let him get the upper hand on you. You knew what was going to happen. Knew where this was headed. So why not use it to your advantage? Why not toy with him for a change? He deserved it. 

You used the added height of your heels and eased yourself onto the countertop, parting your thighs slightly so that your dress fell between them. You leaned back on your hands, the chill of the marble countertop beneath you reminding you so much of that day in your kitchen.

Rio’s steps halted momentarily as he watched you, eyes zeroed in on the juncture between your thighs that was hidden behind the silk. Your pussy practically begged for his attention. Dared him to see your need through the fabric that shielded you.

You were still upset with him. Still displeased with the way he’d chosen to handle the situation and you. But more than anything you wanted him to succumb to you. You wanted to feel that thrill of having him at your mercy. So powerful, yet so fragile in the midst of his bliss. You wanted...no, needed him to wave his white flag first.

“Tell me then,” You began, slowly easing the hem of your dress up as you spoke. “Business or personal?” You questioned, wanting to know if he’d be truthful about why he’d tried to contact you.

He resumed his path towards you with a dangerous lick of his lips, but his gaze never faltered as it took in every new stretch of skin that was revealed. He tried to reach out and touch you, but you raised a heeled foot to his abdomen and stopped him, keeping him at a distance.

“Answer me.” You breathily demanded.

His face registered your words while his eyes took in the stretch of leg that kept him away. You eased the limb back down and waited for him to comply.

He decided to play along.

“Business.”

He continued walking when you didn’t stop him, standing between your legs and trailing his fingertips along the inside of them. His movements shifted your dress up even higher onto your thighs. The sensation would’ve tickled if you weren’t already deliriously turned on.

“Liar.” You accused, already feeling his warmth radiate onto you as he edged closer. His breath mingled with yours, mint and whiskey assaulting your nose.

“So are you.” He retorted, eyes planted firmly on your parted lips. He moved in until you were sure he could do nothing else but touch his mouth to yours. And yet you still weren’t going to meet him.

“So we’re both liars?” You asked, arching a brow up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded and swallowed, the tattoo splashed across his throat pulling your focus. You fell captive to his spell as you got lost in memories of licking and sucking the inked flesh, remembering the way he tasted on your tongue. The recollection caused your legs to widen and your back to arch into him, pushing your chest against his. God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly that your pussy clenched around nothing, as if feeling him already deep inside you. It was a silent call to a lover. One he would never hear. But he’d feel it soon enough.

Your clit throbbed against your lace panties, aching to be assaulted by his talented fingers. With him so close you could feel just how badly you needed him inside you. It felt wrong for him not to be. Felt wrong to not have him share a pulse with you when he was this near. You were going to remedy that.

“Well then,” You whispered, leaning forward to hover over his lips. “I don’t want you to fuck me in this bathroom.”

His hands glided up your thighs while his nose skimmed along your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he maneuvered himself so that barely a sliver of air was left between you.

“So I won’t.” He lied in return, the words coating you like his cum had done numerous times before.

In an instant your lips were being pulled to his. His hands were suddenly everywhere and all at once, seeking out your flesh in desperation. It pleased you to know just how badly he needed you. How badly he craved you.

He slid you closer to him, letting your lace-covered lower half come into contact with his crotch. Ragged breaths and low hums filtered through the air as your bodies grinded against each other, seeking firm hands. You could feel him pressed against the zipper of his dark pants. He was hard. The notion made you moan into his mouth, scraping your nails over his scalp.

It was just like riding a bike. Except there was an added layer of intensity this time that hadn’t been there before. His touch burned hotter than usual. Your grew cunt wetter with every pass of his tongue along yours. They weren’t new sensations, but they felt different. Indescribable. Perhaps it was the public sex. Perhaps it was the underlying tension. Either way, it was remarkably explosive.

You pulled away from his insistent lips to take in air. He continued on, mouth moving over your neck and across your exposed cleavage. He nipped at the flesh, his lips sensuously soothing the area as he explored. You pushed into him in invitation, widening your legs so that he could press harder into you.

You waited for him to take the next step. Waited for him to escalate the moment into more than just heavy-petting and sloppy kisses. His hands, as if reading your mind, traveled up the skirt of your dress and found the edge of your panties. There was no hesitation or teasing in his movements as he roughly pulled them off, the elastic popping against your skin and making you cry out.

Rio licked at your neck in apology, his own hands now moving to his belt. You shifted closer to the ledge of the counter and followed the trail of heat that led to his pulsing cock. His flesh bumped against you, the feel of him hot and heavy along your soaked slit making you whimper.

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt as he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust. You gasped and tightened your legs around him, your right hand in search of something solid. It landed on the mirror behind you, your palm sticking to its cool surface as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

His facial hair scratched at your skin as he buried himself into your neck. He held your hips steady as he retreated and then plunged back into your welcoming walls, stretching you with a burn that made you hiss. Your pussy massaged his length with fervor, seducing him further inside and begging him to claim you once again.

You reached for anything you could to stabilize yourself as he fucked you into the reflective glass at your back. Moans and groans intertwined as your bodies rocked against each other. The soap dispenser fell into the sink with a loud clatter as you accidentally made contact with it. The stack of towels folded neatly near the faucet became disheveled as your ass knocked them out of place with the momentum from Rio’s cock. The entire vanity shook with each intensely thorough thrust of his hips into your womb. It was animalistic. The very epitome of what bathroom  sex in a bar should be.

No words were said. None were needed. Your actions led the conversation.

You squeezed your inner muscles around him, daring him to surrender before you. He twitched, his hips stuttering at the feel of you so tight and wet around him. He growled into your ear, a sure sign that he loved the gesture a little too much.

So you did it again.

“Stop that shit.” He grunted, hips picking up their pace.

“Cum.” You whispered in response, the demand disguised as a request.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you held him to you and clenched around him once more. You trapped him, giving him no choice but to experience your deliberate enticement. His fingers dug into your thighs almost painfully so, forcing you to wince.

He was close.

You reached between your bodies and massaged your clit, feeling your pussy react immediately. Sporadic tremors vibrated your walls and his cock, making both of you moan. Rio’s palm slammed into the mirror at your back as he rutted his hips harder into yours. He was rough and unforgiving, the aggression heightened by your disobedience. It had never quite been like this. There had always been a touch of softness, a soothing placation or word of encouragement. Not tonight. Not as he fucked you so hard you were sure the mirror was going to crack and rain down luminescent crystals of glass over you both.

You showed no mercy as you forced him to submit to you and your body. The precipice was there. It was within reach. You could feel that tightly wound coil ready to unravel. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Your mind was a prisoner to your pleasure. You thought of nothing but the sweet release that you knew was waiting for you. And it was. It was waiting for you with open arms as Rio finally came, triggering your own climax as he filled you so deliciously full of himself. His entire body tensed within you as he held you firm and painted your shuttering walls.

The familiar sensation only added to your high as your limbs tensed and loosened with each wave of euphoria that washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and catapulted through space as your body struggled to ground itself once again. Rio had gone rigid, letting you ride out your orgasm in peace as you suffocated his cock. His cum was already leaking from your walls before you’d even finished, a trail of him decorating your swollen pussy.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him staring back at you, his lips pulled into a lazy smirk. You mirrored his expression, releasing a breathless chuckle. Your body still hummed in excitement, but this time it was punctuated by the deep satisfaction that radiated from between your thighs.

“You good?” You teased, hands resting on his chest and feeling the rapid beats of his heart beginning to slow.

He laughed, the sound low and tinged with fatigue. “Yeah.”

He licked his lips and took in your disheveled state, gaze catching a glimpse of the lace bra you wore underneath.

“Let me drive you home.” He said suddenly, his arrogance alive and well.

It was on the tip of your tongue to deny him, but you chose not to.

“Sure.”

**********

The car ride was silent.

After your impromptu coupling in the bathroom, you’d made up an excuse about not feeling well to your friends and explained you’d already called an Uber. They were hesitant to let you leave alone, but somehow you’d persuaded them to stay and not follow you. You were sure the alcohol they’d consumed had something to do with it.

With hugs and promises of texts that everyone made it home safe at the end of the night, you departed from the bar with Rio in his Mercedes. He’d been driving for about ten minutes, the air not as tense as it’d once been. He seemed content to let the quiet linger, but you weren’t.

“What happened to the new guy?” You asked, glimpsing his face to gauge his reaction. It was dark in the vehicle, but you could still make out his silhouette amongst the various street lights.

He furrowed his brow and pouted his lips, confusion reading easily across his features.

“What new guy?”

“My new contact. The one I was supposed to have.”

“Didn’t work out. Mick has it handled.” He replied simply, gaze still trained on the road in front of him.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, the dryness in your tone letting him know you didn’t quite believe him.

He wordlessly turned onto your street and came to a stop alongside your driveway, putting the SUV in park. He angled his body to face you, trapping you in his stare.

“It was never about you.”

The question must’ve shown on your face because he continued.

“The switch. It wasn’t about you.”

“Wasn’t very convincing.” You deadpanned, scoffing as you played with the zipper of your clutch.

He didn’t react right away. Instead, he watched you. Watched you in that way that let you know his thoughts were as impure as the counterfeit money he produced.

“You look good in that dress.” He complimented, chin jutting out and gesturing to the fabric that adorned your body.

His praise made warmth bloom in your chest. The kind of warmth that was usually accompanied by butterflies in your stomach.

“Thanks.” You replied evenly, not letting him see just what his words did to you. Though you had a feeling he did, despite not bearing witness to it outright.

“Better without it.” He added with a slide of his wicked tongue across his bottom lip, his teeth following. The action was purposeful. Erotic. Blatant. It was all Rio.

You didn’t respond to his flirting. You only sighed, mirroring his position as you resigned yourself to have an honest conversation with the man.

“So,” You started, forcing your fingers to still. “What is it that you want?”

He eyed you for a long moment. Long enough that you started to feel self-conscious.

“You.”

You nodded, disappointed but not shocked by his reply. The word wasn’t new. Though it was lacking the hollow cockiness that usually accompanied it.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke up before you could.

“In whatever way you’ll let me have you.” He admitted.

The statement caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to be cute or charming. He wasn’t being placating or condescending. He was being serious, the hardened intensity in his dark orbs softening to a tender resignation that you were sure matched yours.

“What about you? What do you want?” He repeated back to you, eyes narrowing as he waited.

You took a moment to observe him. Your eyes followed the arch of his brows and the sharp jut of his cheekbones. You studied the pout of his lower lip and his Adam's apple as it bobbed with his throat muscles. He was so many things to you. None of which you could put into words. You didn’t think a word had even been invented yet. It didn’t matter. You were both making your own rules. And it seemed, for once, that the both of you were on the same page and playing by the same rules.

“I want you to have me.” You confessed, meeting his gaze.

And there it was. He was resigned to having you in limited capacity. You were resigned to finally letting him have you. Two conclusions coming together at the same moment. You weren’t quite sure what that meant for you both, but it was a start. 

“Goodnight.” You whispered into the darkened cab, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You didn’t wait for him to react. You turned and opened the door, exiting the vehicle. He didn’t try to stop you. You rounded the front of the car, hearing the driver’s side window slide down.

“So I’ll see you next week?” Rio asked out the open window, chin resting in his hand.

“At the drop?”

He nodded.

You shook your head and laughed, though there was no real humor behind it.

“You wanna tell me again it wasn’t about me?” You challenged, a wide grin decorating your face.

He could deny it. He would probably try. But you knew the truth. And that was enough.

For now.

“Night.” He called, an amused upturn of his lips showing in the light of the full moon.

He turned to the street, starting the car as you walked up your driveway. His eyes followed you the whole way, ensuring you made it in safely.

You heard him drive away once you shut and locked the front door, your lungs releasing a long breath. You pulled out your cell phone and went to your blocked caller list. You selected Rio’s number and unblocked the listing, adrenaline releasing into your bloodstream as you did.

Almost immediately your screen lit up with a text.

Same time and place tomorrow?

You bit your lip, feelings akin to teenage infatuation bubbling to the surface. You hastily typed a response.

See you there.

The message was read immediately. 

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl​

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

IUI - The Way I Love You

bear with me here folks

I know the Idiots are usually soft af. but my lovely spouse/fiance/soon-to-be-fiance and beta @dani-dandelino hit me with an idea and I added a dash handful of angst bc i couldn’t help it

Warnings: feelings of inadequacy, fear of breakup (no actual breakup I promise), miscommunication, drunk af Geralt, past shitty relationships, happy ending tho I promise, there’s tears but they’re happy I swear.

______________________________________

Geralt only ever got sloppy drunk when Jaskier was the DD. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust anyone else, it was that he didn’t trust his drunk boyfriend not to goad him into something stupid. 

The last time they’d both gotten fucked up outside of their apartment they woke up with three traffic cones and a “Speed Hump” sign in their living room. When they asked Triss what happened she sent them a video of them giggling as they tried to fit the sign into her trunk.

After hanging the sign in their apartment, they decided it may be best to take turns. 

This particular instance, they’d dropped Triss and Yen off and were on their way home, Geralt’s head lolling against the window as he fought to stay awake. 

“I’m not carrying your perky ass upstairs,” Jaskier laughed, snapping his fingers near Geralt’s ear. 

Geralt grumbled but sat up straight and leaned into Jaskier’s outstretched hand, “Radio.”

Affectionately rolling his eyes, Jaskier pulled his hand away and flipped on the radio. Geralt immediately gasped and started singing along off key and slurred. The first time Jaskier heard Geralt scream along to Taylor Swift he’d been shocked, if extremely endeared. 

“BUT I MISS SCREAMIN’ AND FIGHTIN AND KISSIN IN THE RAIN! IT’S TWO AM AND I’M CURSIN’ YOUR NAME! SO IN LOVE THAT WE ACTED INSANE, AND THAT’S THE WAY I LOVED YOUUUUUUUUU!”

Jaskier turned the volume down to a reasonable level when Geralt cranked it so loud his ears might start ringing. He rolled his eyes when Geralt started singing it to him, taking the shortcut home and trying to ignore the little pit forming in his stomach. 

When the song ended Geralt turned the radio down and picked up his hand not gripping the steering wheel, “Jask?”

“Mhm?”

Even in the car, Geralt glanced around conspiratorially before whispering, “I have a secret.”

Fear flared in Jaskier’s chest but he took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself who he was talking to. His boyfriend thought secrets were fun. Mostly because Geralt’s version of a secret was keeping what he made for dinner a surprise until Jaskier got home. He’d even felt guilty not telling Jaskier he was seeing a therapist when they’d started dating. For all his gruff exterior and suspicion, Geralt really was an open book with those he loved and trusted. Jaskier had a very different idea of what secrets in a relationship meant. 

“What’s that, love?” 

Geralt giggled as he traced the edges of a magnolia on the back of Jaskier’s wrist, “That is the way I love you.”

Luckily for Jaskier’s car, they were rolling up to a stop sign. He had time to loose his breath for a moment and fight back the initial feeling of shame and anger with himself before he pulled his hand away and gripped the steering wheel as he punched the gas. 

Through gritted teeth, he said the gentlest thing he could think of, “We don’t kiss in the rain.”

Geralt frowned, almost pouted at him, “I still love you.”

A part of Jaskier wanted to scream at Geralt, another part wanted to pull over and make him walk home, thankfully the loudest part reminded him the idiot was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying and he thought he was being sweet. There was also a good possibility he would cry himself to sleep in the passenger seat if Jaskier yelled at him and last time he tried to carry Geralt to bed his back hurt for a week. 

“I love you too,” Jaskier sighed as he pulled into their parking spot. 

He didn’t sleep well that night. Not because his sweaty, smelly, and fidgety boyfriend clung to him in his sleep, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about the ride home. 

Jaskier had lived in relationships like that for most of his adult life. Hell, even in his teens. They were nothing but all consuming passion with no connection to support it and left both parties jaded and lost. When he left his mentor he’d sat in Yen’s chair for hours and hours, until his arm had gone numb, and the only thing he could think was ‘never again’. 

And now Geralt thought he was being cute. The ridiculously meticulous and serious man was only ever sappy when he got drunk and now instead of reveling in it like he’d like, Jaskier was staring at the clock on his nightstand calculating how exhausted he’d be in the morning as the minutes ticked by. 

Turns out, he was at least in the land of the living by the time Geralt shuffled into the kitchen with his hands in his hair and a pained expression. 

“Feel like shit.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement as he sipped his morning tea and shifted in his seat to see better out the window. 

After popping a few anti-inflammatories and nibbling on a cracker before giving up on food, Geralt lumbered up behind Jaskier and draped his arms over his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing. I’m just being… touchy.”

Geralt pressed a light kiss over the hellebore tattoo on Jaskier’s neck, “I doubt it.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as Jaskier laid his hand over Geralt’s arm across his chest, “I don’t want to lose this.”

“Why…? What makes you think you would?” Geralt was a little slower on the draw hungover, but he knelt next to Jaskier’s chair and rested a hand on his knee as he waited for a response. He only ever looked so worried when Roach had an abscess and it broke Jaskier’s heart. He didn’t want to say it and ruin everything. 

After a deep breath in, he mumbled out his answer, “Do you really love me like that song?”

“What song?” Geralt breathed, his thumb brushing back and forth over Jaskier’s knee.

“The uh, Way I Loved You one.”

Geralt searched his face for a beat, the crease between his eyebrows only deepening, “Of course I do.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling as he forced all the air from his lungs in the hopes it would do something to stop the tears from falling. When it was clear he would lose the battle he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands.

“You… don’t want me to?” Geralt sounded close to tears himself, but he didn’t take his hand off Jaskier’s thigh. 

“No- yes! No?” Jaskier sniffed and wiped at his face but didn’t lean back to look at Geralt, “I- Geralt I can’t just fill a hollow relationship with lust. We ha- I thought we had more? But if you want the- the fights and the hate fucking- I don’t- Geralt I don’t want that. Not with anyone but not with you. Ne-”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt tugged at Jaskier’s arm, gathering him to his chest when the brunette melted into sobs, “I don’t want that. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I let you think that.” He cradled Jaskier’s head to his shoulder, pressing kisses into his hair between softly spoken apologies and reassurances. They stayed there until Jaskier’s tea went cold and his sobs were closer to little gasps. 

Eventually, Jaskier lifted his head and met Geralt’s eyes, “H-how do you love me?”

Geralt licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper, “Not- It’s not hollow.”

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, “Please?”

One of Geralt’s hands came up to cup Jaskier’s cheek as he took a deep breath, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you… I never wanted to be romantic with anyone until you. You… You make me feel… safe. I’m never bored of you or numb or sick of you. This is the first relationship I’ve had where I bother to fight, Jask. I love you so much it makes me do things I never thought to do and I’m glad and I never want to change anything about us. Never.” 

A shiver ran down Jaskier’s spine as relief flooded his whole body. His throat ached from crying and his shoulders were sore from holding all that tension in a way they hadn’t for years, but he’d never felt so good. Geralt loved him. Him. Not some tumultuous relationship or the sex or the drama of it all. Someone finally loved him for him. 

It hadn’t really hit Jaskier till then. They’d said ‘I love you’, sure, but he hadn’t really believed Geralt, just like he’d stopped believing the string of selfish lovers before him. 

“Thank Mellitelle,” Jaskier laughed, just on this side of hysterical as he tightened his grip around Geralt’s shoulders, “I fucking love how boring we are. And you. Fuck I really really do love you.”

“Even when I smell like my regulars?” Geralt teased, intentionally huffing a little extra and dosing Jaskier in his horrendous hangover morning breath.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose but smiled and kissed him anyway, “Of course.”

“Mhh,” Geralt pulled away for a moment, brushing his thumb over Jaskier’s crows feet in a silent request for him to open his eyes, “Can we go back to bed?”

“The crying does it for you, huh?” Jaskier chuckled, his voice was still weak but his laugh was genuine.

“I’m so dizzy, Jask,” squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head ever so slightly, Geralt plopped back onto his heels. If Jaskier hadn’t witnessed just how much he drank he’d say he was lying, but Jaskier was truly surprised he’d even climbed out of bed this morning.

“Mkay, up. Back to bed then.”

They settled under the blankets and tangled themselves back together. Geralt hummed, closing his eyes and squeezing Jaskier a little tighter.

New, happier tears threatened at the corners of his eyes but he pushed them down, opting to trace the corner of Geralt’s buttercup tattoo peeking out of his shirt, “I love you.”

Geralt took a deep breath in before he sighed out a rumbling, “I know.”

“No, Geralt. Really,” Jaskier laid his hand over the yellow and green ink, “I’ve said these words more times than I can count but I don’t think I ever really understood them until you.”

“Jaski-”

“I love you,” Jaskier’s interruption was far smaller and far more fragile than he had intended. His words just continued to spill out, “You’re steady and calm and I’ve never had that. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like and I’m constantly scared I’m gonna fuck it up…”

Comforting fingers ran through his hair as Geralt murmured his reply, “Me too,” Jaskier just squeezed his shoulder in a bit of solidarity and a bit of selfish comfort, “But I think we’re doing alright…”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Geralt started, shifting so he was practically engulfing Jaskier, “we both still love each other, and...” his boyfriend pinched him when he trailed off, pretending to fall asleep in a way that always mad Jaskier giggle, “Ow- and you use the hooks by the front door.” 

“I do, don’t I?” Jaskier sniffled, “And you used your words.”

“I’d use all the words for you.”

“All of them?”

Geralt really was drifting away this time, his words coming slowly as his arms relaxed and Jaskier felt their full weight over him, “Not well, but I would...” 

[theonewiththefanfics]

Please Don’t Leave (one-shot)

Synopsis: After a night spent together, the Reader wakes up wrapped in the arms of the man she loves. Only problem is - they live two different lives, and she barely has a place in it as a best friend. 

Paring: Harry Styles x f!Reader

Genre: angst, but with a fluffy ending (also kind of an AU since being at a party is mentioned, but if you’re out there and partying (aka not following YOUR LOCAL HEALTH GUIDELINES) wear a damn mask!) - please keep up with what the health professionals are saying, and stay safe. If you’re at a place where you can safely go out and have fun in large crowds - please do so, but with caution. If not - WEAR A DAMN MASK AND WASH YOUR HANDS.

Warnings: anxiety, angsty, think that’s about it. if there’s anything, please let me know :)

Word count: 2283

Waking up in the arms of the person you love should be the most blissful thing in the world. It should quell your racing heart after a nightmare, and speed it up as you open your eyes to see the one who's holding you so tight. But when that person is your best friend, the best friend you’ve had for the past half-decade, the best friend whom you’ve had unsaid feelings for the past three years – that will set your heart racing and not in a good way.

        As Y/N blinked her Y/E/C eyes open, she felt safe. Probably the safest she’d ever felt and all thanks to the man lying next to her. The tattoos covering his chest she’d memorised by heart, had traced their black outlines more times than she could count, and at the start of the pandemic, when the first wave of emotional exhaustion had hit, he’d allowed her to colour them in, to bring some sort of vibrance in the gloomy-looking life. Now, however, seeing the gorgeous butterfly right in her eye-line made Y/N want to disappear into the ground.

A shuddering breath escaped Y/N as she realised more and more of the situation. They were spooned together, chest to chest, without a single inch left between them, and without any clothes to separate them either. 

        She’d never been the friends-with-benefits kind of a person. Sure, she’d had her fair share of one-night-stands, where both parties enjoyed themselves and then amicably split to never see one another again. But with Harry, leaving and basically ghosting him wasn’t an option. 

        Harry shifted a bit, and the arm he had under her bare waist tightened, pulling her in, and his lips pressed against her forehead. For a moment, she thought it was just him stirring in his sleep, but when she felt pressure against her skin, when she felt his mouth start to skim down to her temple, a small grin accompanying the kisses, Y/N knew he was awake. And unfortunately, she’d have to face the music, rather than what she’d hoped of untangling herself from Harry, grabbing her things and running for the hills.

        “ ‘G morning, lovie,” he muttered, his voice gruff from the sleep, and as Y/N recalled, moans of her name. “How ya feelin’?”

        Y/N had to clear her throat, and she nodded. “Good.” The word was quiet. “A bit sore, but I uh, slept well. Uh, you?”

        “ ‘M good.” Harry smiled and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “ ‘M great actually.”

        “Yeah?”

        “Yeah.” Y/N could feel the grin slowly expand across his face while she gulped.

        “Well, uh,” she started. “I uh, I guess I’ll get going.”

        That made him pull back, and she took it as her opportunity to flip around and slip out of Harry’s hold and the bed. 

        The bedsheet revealed her naked back to him where two large bruises in the shape of his palms had started to make themselves present. Much like on his own back, Y/N had nail marks all across it from when she’d been on top of him, and Harry had needed her closer, had been desperate to have her pressed to him and to keep her there as he fell apart. 

        “You don’t have to, you know.” He let out a nervous chuckle, as Y/N leaned down and grabbed her discarded black thong. Most of the night was a blur for him, but he hadn’t been that inebriated that he had no control over himself and couldn’t understand what consent was. And well, neither had Y/N. 

        The alcohol had most definitely loosened them up, but it had also wiped away the fear of rejection. She’d been the one to make the first move. Standing alone on a penthouse balcony, cold winds sweeping past her frame was when she’d decided hiding her true feelings would only bring more pain.

        And then he’d walked out, covered in a glitter suit with a ruffled white blouse underneath, almost like the disco ball they'd been dancing under a few minutes before. He'd pulled Y/N to him. They’d looked at one another, and she was the one who pressed her lips against his. Without even waiting for a second, he'd responded with the same passion.

        It’d taken them barely a minute to get out of the party and make their way to Harry’s place. Five more minutes and both of them were naked and on top of one another, underneath one another and in every imaginable position. 

But as much as the alcohol had taken away every fear she’d had about being with Harry, the dawn had brought a clarity to the situation. And as painful of a clarity it was for Y/N, it was undeniable. 

        “I think I do, Haz. I – this –...” She gulped. “This was a mistake. We should’ve never slept together.”

        She could feel the cold creep over them. “What do you mean?” His voice was small. She'd never heard him like that.

        “I mean, we were drunk, Harry.” Y/N didn’t dare look back at the man as she stood up, arm over her chest, as her eyes scanned the beige carpet for her bra and the dress, she’d worn the night before. “We were drunk and made a mistake. This shouldn’t have happened. So, I think I’ll be the one to bite the bullet, and not have us have an awkward breakfast, and go.”

        When there was no response from Harry, Y/N took it as confirmation that she was right, that what had happened the night before was just an alcohol-induced mistake, so on wobbly legs, she grabbed the black lace bra, clasped it behind her, the navy dress a messy pile on the floor as she pretty much b-lined for it. 

        She was right by the door, one of the nine-inch heels that had been killing her feet throughout the party in hand when a suppressed sob made her stop.

        “Please don’t,” he practically choked out, and that made Y/N whip around, seeing his chest rattle as he attempted to take in a breath. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t – I – I”

        “Fuck, Harry,” she dropped her dress and the shoe and climbed into his lap, hands against his cheeks, and eyes never leaving his frantic green ones. “Look at me, sweetheart. Look at me.”

        There’d been a couple of times she’d have to help him through an anxiety attack, so Y/N was aware of what helped him – pressing his palm to her chest and her own against his. “Focus on me,” she said in a firm voice. “Focus on my heartbeat and how I’m breathing.”

        “I can’t –.” He was still heaving, but with every second she was there with him, it evened out. “Please don’t leave me.”

        “I’m not leaving. I could never leave you.” She shushed him, feeling hot tears splash against her collarbone, as Harry hid face against her neck, and gripped onto her sides with such vigour, she was sure if she had a shirt on, it would rip. “I’m still here, I’ll always be here when you need me. But this was a mistake. Harry, we should’ve never slept together. Not like that.”

        “Why?” His hands were gentle as he cupped her cheeks and brought their gaze to meet. “Why was it so wrong for us to do that? Why shouldn’t it have happened? Give me one solid, one good reason why.”

        “Because we’re best friends.” Y/N leaned into his touch. “And best friends don’t do that.”

        “They do if they have feelings that are more than friendly.”

        Y/N sighed. “Harry…”

        “I love you… and I know you love me too. I’m not blind, Y/N. I can see the way you look at me, and I know what it means because I look at you the same way."

        “I know... but the thing is, I don’t fit in your world. Not like that.”

        When she chuckled and spoke, there was no malice behind those words. She was just stating facts, but Harry couldn’t help how his heart clenched in guilt and pain. “You’ve been hiding me as your friend for years now, and I understand why, and I love you for it. So much. You’ve always cared about me, and how your lifestyle affects the people around you… but if I’m with someone… I don’t wanna hide. I don’t wanna be a secret or our love to be a secret. I want to hold their hand.” Y/N took his right hand and weaved their fingers together. “And I don’t wanna be afraid of what people might say about it. I wanna be able to love the person freely… I’d wanna love you freely…”

        “Then I’ll quit,” he immediately announced, making Y/N’s eyes widen as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, an almost manic smile on his face. “I’ll quit. Fuck all of it, if it gives us a chan-“

        “No.” She vehemently shook her head pulling away and pressing her palm against his chest. “Harry are you completely out of your mind? You can’t just quit ev – everything!”

        He scoffed. “Of course, I can. It’s my job, innit? I can choose when to do it and when not.”

        “But – no – Harry, hold on a bit. That’s a bit rash. Besides, I’m not letting you just up and throw away everything you’ve worked for.”

        “I’m not though.” His smile was so wide, Y/N couldn’t comprehend how this talk could be making him happy. “I’ve been reaping the fruits of all that hard work for years now, lovie. I have enough to keep me going, Mum and Gems and whatever future family I have for decades to come.”

        “Yes, but have you done everything you’ve wanted?”

        “Well, no bu – “

        “But nothing,” Y/N interrupted him. “Harry, you’re in the middle of shooting a movie, your music career is at an all-time high, and who knows how high it could go. You have a Disney, a fucking Disney movie lined up. And don’t get me started on Marvel. You can’t just quit all that now because you’ve got a crush or something.”

        “It’s not a crush.”

        Y/N smiled a bit. “Give it time, and it’ll go away.”

        “Hasn’t left me for the past two years, and now, especially now, I don’t think it’ll disappear that easily. Has it for you?”

        Fuck. She hated when Harry was right. “No.” She shook her head. “It hasn’t.”

        “Then where does this leave us?”

        “I don’t know,” Y/N whispered, eyes on her fingers as she skimmed his collarbones and the two swallows below them. “I really don’t know.”

        “I can’t stay friends with you,” Harry murmured, “because every time I’ll look at you, I’ll know we could’ve been so much more.”

        “But we can’t be together either. Not the way we should be.”

        “What if we…” Harry gulped, straightening out a bit, but never letting the soothing motions against Y/N’s back end as he allowed his free hand to explore her back. “What if we set up some rules?”

        Her brows furrowed as she pulled back and tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

        “Like… what if we didn’t have to hide? If we went out on dates, or with friends, we didn’t have to keep us a secret? We could kiss, and hold our hands, and be a normal couple, but in interviews, in all of the publicity shit I’d have to do, I don’t talk about you. I – I let them know, that I have an amazing girlfriend, the most beautiful and supporting girlfriend a person could have.” He chuckled, and Y/N couldn’t help herself but mimic it. “But I don’t talk about anything you don’t want me to.”

        “Meaning?”

        “Meaning you set whatever boundaries you want for me. Tell me what you’d want them to know, if anything at all, and I’ll only mention those things. We go at your pace and however far you want. The rest is just for us and no one else.”

        “ ‘N what about the paps? The gossip magazines and rumours and hate that’ll come?”

        “I – I can’t control that, I swear if I could, I would, and I hate it’s out of my control –“

        “Harry.” Y/N interrupted him before he could start spiralling again. “I’m not blaming you for any of it, I’m just saying what would happen. We’ve both seen it too many times. I’m just not sure I can handle it.”

        “You shouldn’t, fuck, you shouldn’t even be saying that – thinking that – but I promise, I’ll try, I swear I’ll try and make it as easy as possible for you. And I know if we try this it’s going to be the furthest from normal, you have no idea, how badly I want to make it as normal as possible for you, but please just… just give us a chance. I know we could be so happy, so fucking happy together… just give us a chance… give me a chance.”

It was electric, the way his hands skimmed over her sides. Not the painful kind of electricity you sometimes get zapped by a car door or when you touch a balloon, but a buzzing kind, that set each and every nerve alive, brought it out of the terrifying numbness that was rejection and fear, and pulled them into the loving light of acceptance.

“I mean, it’s always been us, hasn’t it?” Y/N muttered letting her lips flutter over his. 

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back. “It has.”

“Then let’s be us forever?”

Harry’s smile was more blinding than the golden light which erupted into the room, bathing them in liquid flames and warming up not only their bodies but their souls. 

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

A/N: hey! so I know I’ve been gone for a while, and most likely will be for quite a bit and will be only posting og stuff sporadically. I’m dealing with a death in the family, so I’m only writing when I’m inspired. right now music is what’s inspiring me, so if you’re here for someone else, please message me and I’ll put you on a specific tag list. I won’t take it personally, I promise :D 

Not saying that to gain sympathy, it’s just how it is rn. I still have plans to finish all the series I’ve started (even Hawkins’ Charm), it’s just that I needed to write something else for a bit.

This is definitely not my best work, but I still wanted to share it, as I hope this will make me get back into the groove of things. 

Hope everyone is staying safe :)

P.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list message me :) tags are always open. 

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry :(

[babyloposts]

RoseBud

My Hero Academia Gang AU

Pairing(s): Sero Hanta x fem!reader

Warnings: language, drug use, explicit content, sexual themes, gang imagery, violence

Summary: a simple crush on a guy quickly turns south as you become wrapped up in an unsafe life of lies, drugs, and violence. What happens when you become a key player in a war between to rival gangs and have to deal with a complicated love life all at the same time.

—————————————————

0.5

You stayed occupied on your phone until Hatsume returned to finish up the details of your already sore rose. In the time it took for her to do whatever business she had with those boys, your numbing cream had began to wear off.

The tension in the room was thick. The previously care-free energy Hatsume possessed was replaced with a melancholic and faraway stare in her eyes.

“Alright babe I’m all done. Remember to clean the skin with a gentle anti-bacterial soap and use alcohol-free moisturizer alright.” There was a feigned happiness in Hatsume’s voice, but her eyes said it all. Whatever Bakugou had done to her, whatever he and the red head had taken from her must have dampened her mood more than the threat from earlier.

You nodded to Hatsume and she took her leave as you were re-dressing. Luckily the top you wore was a light fabric and didn’t rub against your tattoo too much, but you could tell, this was going to hurt in the morning.

Walking back into the main lobby you only found Sero. No Bakugou, Hatsume, or mysterious Red Head to be found. You wanted to be happy to see Sero, but the look on his face and the mark on his face were more than enough to dampen your mood.

“Sero, oh my God!” He cringed as your finger lightly danced over his bruised cheekbone. Your hand flew to him without even thinking. Quickly you whipped it back and silently scolded yourself for your overbearing nature. “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t apologize. It’ll only make me feel worse about getting punched in the face.” He chuckled, but your expression never faltered. The worry was there and it wasn’t going anywhere. Your brain was rattling with questions of ‘why?’ and ‘what happened?’, but as soon as you even fixed your mouth to speak Sero was cutting you off with the sharp movement of rising to his feet.

“Let me drive you home. It’s late.” Without checking for a change in your face or any confirmation he turned to leave the shop, trusting that you had fallen instep behind him.

The car ride to your apartment didn’t answer any lingering questions either. The only sounds that graced your ears was the buzzing of the engine and the light sounds of J. Cole songs emanating from the stereo. Sero periodically asked for vague directions to your side of town, but surprisingly he found your small complex with ease.

“Thank you.” You sighed as he shifted the car into park. The car ride may have been soothing, but the fear for your new friend’s well-being never once left your gut.

“Don’t thank me. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. And I pride myself on being a pretty nice guy.” The smile graced easily over his face as if he didn’t have a giant bruise forming under his eye. Your expression remained unmoving, your friend full of wonder as to what he was hiding from you. Yea, you had just officially met Sero tonight and he really isn’t obligated to tell you anything personal, but he was acting like none of that crazy shit just happened.

Sero chuckled, breaking through your bewildered inner monologue to move around and open your car door for you. “Alright, this is the part where you go home. Not that I’m trying to get rid of you.” He winked.

“R-right.” You get out of the car and start to your apartment. This didn’t feel right, the energy was too weird. You knew in the back of your mind that Denki was right. He had said Sero was a good guy and you’d be in good hands with him and he was right. Sero was probably trying to protect you from whatever shady business he was apart of, but you couldn’t leave this “date” where it was. You made it about half way to the door to enter the lobby of the building before you spun on your heels and placed your hands firmly on your hips. Sero was watching you as he leisurely leant on the hood of his black muscle car. Totally unbothered as you had come to expect.

“You’re not leaving here without me checking you out.” You said with all the gusto you could muster.

“Go ahead. I’m standing right here.” He smirked and drank you in with his eyes.

“Stop being an idiot and come upstairs with me. I can’t go to sleep tonight knowing that I just let you leave here with a black eye and I didn’t even offer you an ice-pack.”

“If you wanted me to come up to your apartment with you, you didn’t have to make up an excuse.” He punctuated his sentence with the chirp of his car doors locking and jogged up next to you.

“What happened to you being a gentleman?” You snorted.

“I can’t ever turn down an offer like that from you. I’ll take my chances.” He grinned slyly. You rolled your eyes trying to act like his charm wasn’t getting to you.

Sero followed you into the elevator and into your apartment. It was quaint and homey and smelled of bergamot incense. Luckily you had cleaned up a few days ago and your apartment was presentable to guests.

“You can sit on the couch I’ll get you some ice and a damp rag.” Without checking to see if he even listened to your instructions you busied yourself hopping from room to room of your apartment to gather the supplies to help his worsening bruise. Once you were back in the living room you instinctively pressed the makeshift ice-pack to Sero’s eye causing him to wince.

“That’s what you get for getting yourself beat up because of me.” You huffed.

“What do you mean? I didn’t-”

“I heard what he said Sero. That blond guy was yelling at Hatsume saying that you left the club before you were supposed to and he had to finish the job for you. You told me that you were done for the night. I wouldn’t have cared if we stayed longer.”

“I didn’t get beat up for you.” Softly, your hand was removed from in front of his eye. With Sero’s vision no longer obscured he could see the look of guilt clear as fat on your face. “I chose to leave. I was gonna do what needed to get done regardless, but my boss has little faith in me I guess. He sent his guard dog after me instead of trusting that I know how to get shit done.” Sero grumbled at the end. That seemed to have put him off. It was the one time his chill façade had faded that night.

“So... taking me to Hatsume was an excuse?”

Quickly the charm was back and he was reassuring you that you were priority number one. “No. Well kind of. I still wanted you to have a good time, but I would have had to see Hatsume tonight anyway. So, two birds and all that.” He shrugged.

With the ice pack now back on his face you started again, you found it was easier to speak your mind this way. No seductive eyes to sway the conversation. “Okay. But still. You should have checked in with whoever to avoid all this.” You gestured to his face.

“This happens more often than you think.”

“Sero. Be serious please.” You sighed. “You didn’t need to get hurt indirectly because of me. I’m not gonna ask what you or Bakugou needed from Hatsume, because obviously it wasn’t tattoo related, but can you at least promise me that you won’t leave working just to hang with me?”

“So there’s gonna be a next time.” His eyebrows wiggled, taunting you.

You stammered. You didn’t mean to sound presumptuous, but you were hoping he would want to go out with you again. “I mean yeah, I thought tonight was fun, all things considering.”

“Yeah? Me too.” His hand began to snake to your thigh that was now exposed to him as your skirt hiked up from your sitting position. The hand was comforting reminding you of the comfort you got from him earlier that night in the car.

“I-“ Your throat all of a sudden felt so dry. Clearing uncomfortably, you began again. “I don’t know if this is really gentlemanly.” You chuckled. Sero’s gaze at you did not falter for a second. His eyes were hazy and his eyelids dropped. The look in his eyes drew you in and you dropped the ice-pack from his face.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep my eyes off you. You’re beautiful.” You smiled as the compliment. Again the compliment on your beauty was unfamiliar, but greatly appreciated.

“Thank you... but I-” Your protests were quickly silenced by the force of his lips pressing against yours.

Like ice against a flame you melted into the kiss automatically. Your lips mended together perfectly. His felt rough, slightly chapped, but the way he moved in rhythm with you caused you to swoon. You were both drunk on each other’s touch. His hands roamed you lower body and rested on your waist, while you explored his hair and massaged his scalp with your finger tips.

A firm squeeze to your upper thigh elicited a gasp from your lips breaking the kiss and allowing Sero just enough time to slip your blouse over your head. What a pleasant surprise it was to find you without a bra on to obstruct his view. “Nice tat.” He smirked.

To avoid the embarrassment bubbling in your chest you shut him up this time by climbing into his lap and resuming the kiss where you had left off. In this position he had free reign of your body. His hands explored every inch of your legs, ass, and back.

You were a frustrated moaning and groaning into his mouth which only made him want to touch you more. Those intimate sounds making him harden beneath you.

Sero was undeniably sexy. You had fantasized about being with him before you really knew him, but everything went beyond your expectations. The way his rough hands felt against your body, the way his tongue and lips felt tangling with yours and his scent. It was a strong mix of cologne, weed, and something almost sickeningly sweet. You could have sworn it was...

Cherry Blossoms.

As if I’ve cold water had been poured on you, you ended your make out session with your crush prematurely.

“What happened?” Sero finally showed some other emotion. A mix of curiosity and worry.

You panicked how could you explain this. “Sero... you- you don’t want me.”

“The fuck are you on? Of course I want you.” His eyes flicked down taking in the sight of you bare chested and sitting on his straining erection.

“No you don’t. I’m sorry but, it’s my quirk that’s making you like me.”

“Huh?”

previous|next

Masterlist

Taglist: @black-bhabie-2000

[harryspet]

𝓽𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 ... 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓼

𝓽𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 ... 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓼 

This December, for the holidays and to celebrate my followers, I’m giving readers a chance to request drabbles/one-shots but I’m also hoping some writers want to share the Holiday joy too! I have a list of dark prompts as well as holiday prompts so feel free to mix and match them however you like!

𝓇𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈 & 𝑔𝓊𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 

You don’t have to follow me but it would be greatly appreciated!!

Please be courteous and only send one request especially if you’re using anon.

When sending a request, tell me the character(s) + 1-3 dialogue prompts (have fun combining them) + au idea (optional)

I prefer to write for (aged up) Peter Parker, Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers. If you’d like to include MJ, Natasha, Thor, Loki, Wanda or Sam please combine them with those three. Threesomes and foursomes welcome ^^

Make these unique! If you just want pure angst, smut, or fluff then choose your prompts accordingly. I’m hoping people enjoy mixing the holiday prompts with the dark ones (though its not required) so please read through them all. There are a lot of good ones!!

Most of these will probably end up being around 300-700 words.

I write dark fics which means there may be mentions of violence, abuse, noncon/dubcon and just angst overall. If you have limits, please let me know.

I may reject your request if I feel it’s too similar to what I’ve already written or if you ignore the rules. I may also close requests if I get too many.

𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓪 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻 and you’d like to write a drabble/one-shot using my lists then please let me know! I’ll be sure to give it a reblog and add it to my #fic recs if you tag me @harryspet​ and #tistheseasonfordarkfics. There’s no due date, just participate if you’re interested! :)

Don’t choose prompts with strikethroughs.

𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮: CLOSED

𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈

“I wish I’d never met you.”

“Did you just stick your tongue out at me?”

“I’m done. We’re done.”

“Why are you fighting me?”

“I’ve never…they kept me untouched. For you”

“Did you just bite me?!”

“If I’m dead then how come you can see me?”

“It’s cute that you think you can defy me.”

“Duct tape. I need it for... taping something.”

“Why don’t you smile anymore?”

“Fuck you.”

“Your soul is mine.”

 “Looks like you need to be trained.“

“It’s not...not going to hurt, is it?”

“I don’t ... I don’t remember my name.”

“Did you see the way they looked at you?”

“How dare you challenge me.”

“I’ll let you go when I’m finished with you.”

“Hand Daddy his belt and take your shirt off.”

“I don’t like when they touch you.”

“Are you getting sore, all cooped up in that cage all day?”

“Shhh. It’s all right. I’ll be gentle.”

“Daddy wants to hear you sing a song. Sit on my lap and make Daddy happy.”

“Shit, are you crying? I didn’t mean to hit that hard!”

“You can’t take people as property!”

“I feel like you’re taking advantage of me.”

“So … uh.. who is that person … they keep texting you?”

“Fuck, I love you like this, all rounded with our child…”

“You wouldn’t want him/her/them finding out about this, would you?”

“You haven’t earned it. What are you going to do for me?”

“Stop crying.”

“You’re not in trouble, sweetheart.”

“I’ve been looking for you all night, and you are in desperate need of my help.”

“And the hunter becomes the hunted.”

“They hurt you and I’m going to hurt them back.”

“Never steal anything from someone you can’t outrun, kid.”

“Hands off, alpha. Never learn any self-control?”

“Can i stay at your place tonight? I don’t feel safe here.”  

“I really think you need to see a doctor.”

“Everything that happened is your fault.”

“You...you were never supposed to find out.”

 “Well, hello beautiful!”

“You want to what? That’s embarrassing!”

“You look a little lost, omega.”

“We need to talk...about the pregnancy.”

“Oh, did someone get lonely?”

𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓈

 "Excuse me—where is my Christmas kiss?"

"I made you some hot cocoa."

''I just want you for my own.''

"You didn't have to get me anything."

“I don't remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas."

"Go on, open it."

"Did you spike the eggnog?"

"I can't believe you did that to Santa..."

“You're my best Christmas present this year.”

“How many Christmas lights does one person need?”

 “Shut up! Santa is real.”

“I hate winter.” 

“Aren’t you just Santa’s Little Helper?”

“Son of a nutcracker!”

"You didn’t bring date to the party, did you? Because I need someone to kiss at midnight."

 “No you don’t understand, I need a picture with Santa!”

“I can’t reach the top of the tree to put the star on.”

 “Oh the weather outside is frightful.”

“This is our first Christmas together and I want it to be special.”

“Don’t you dare buy me that.”

“Tell me what you want for Christmas.”

“Fuck it let’s just get drunk.”

 “We can build a snowman.”

“What no, that’s not daddy, that’s Santa”

“Maybe if I kiss you, you’ll feel warmer.” 

 “I can not believe the car broke down in the middle of nowhere 3 hours before it’s officially Christmas.”

“...I think we’re snowed in...”

“I hate work Christmas parties.”

“What do you mean you’re working on Christmas?!”

 “I refuse to have a baby on Christmas.”

“Call me an elf one more time!”

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

 “I’m freezing, you’re warm. Hug me.”

“I don’t even have a family to celebrate with, so what’s the point?“

“Forbid Christmas? No one can forbid Christmas.”

“We can add a special ornament to the collection each year. This year's is for our future baby.”

“I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe.”

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?”

“No one should be alone on Christmas!”

 “So you’re going to dress up as Santa.”

“You burnt the holiday cookies!”

“Wanna go skating in Central Park?”

“How can you possibly look good with snow in your hair?”

“If you throw that snowball you’re declaring war”

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

This list is a compilation of a bunch of starters I found on tumblr so you may recognize quotes from movies and songs! I reblogged a lot of the original posts on my side blog @parkerspet​.

𝒶𝓊 & 𝓈𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓈 (optional)

Arranged marriage au - Angel/demon au - Assassin au - Apocalypse au - Android au - Amnesia au - Babysitter au - Bodyguard au - Bookstore au - Baker au - Band au - Bounty hunter au - Brothel au - Camp Counselor au - Camping au - College au - Criminal au - Caregiver/Little au - Doctor au - Domestic au - Enemies au - Ex au - Forbidden Love au - Fugitive au - Gang au - Hero/Villian au - Immortal au - Kidnapped au - Mafia au - Maid au - Marriage au - Neighbor au - A/B/O au - Porn Star au - Prostitute au - Royalty au - Serial Killer au - Stalker au - Stripper au - Tattoo Shop au - Werewolf au - Yandere au

tagging all the fics #tistheseasonfordarkfics and #harryspetrequests !

𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼

tagging some authors :) @cherienymphe @andybarberslxt @mypoisonedvine @nsfwsebbie @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @mcudarklibrary​ @opheliadawnwalker3 @autumnrose40 @marvelmaree @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @buckysbunny @buckybarnesplumwhore @honeyloverogers @mariessecretfantasies @mrwinterr @yanderepeterparker @raisincookieswrites​

[mysinsforbts]

A glass of birthday milk~

(Happy Birthday Jungkook~) (This is my first ff, be kind to me! lol~)

~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~

Jungkook x Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: smut, blow job, handjob, oral (m), semi dirty talk, slight daddy kink, (let me know if I missed something)

(I’m sorry for gramma mistakes! Please enjoy~ )

~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~

Buzz.. Buzz.. My alarm started ringing on this still quiet Tuesday. 6:00 o'clock, showed my phone. I turned it off with half closed eyes and slowly opened first one, than the second. I blinked a few times and looked outside the window, it was still very dark. Than I looked over to the right, a still fast asleep Jungkook layed next to me. He had one arm behind his head and the other one on his stomatch, he looked so cuddly under the warm blanket. His hair looked so fluffy, that I wanted nothing more than just to caress through it. I smiled to myself thinking of the reason I stood up this early. Today is a special day. It is Jungkook's Birthday.

Quietly as possible I removed the blanket from my body and sat up. I searched for Jungkook's shirt and put it on. It was slightly cold as I walked barefeed towards the kitchen. I closed the kitchen door so I wouldn't make to much noise. The first thing I did was making breakfast, wanting to have everything ready and perfect before my boyfriend had to go to work later. Next thing I did was doing the laundry, I just knew that as soon as Jk got up and was awake he would start to deal with it. It was just his thing.                                                                    After I was finished with it I looked at the time, already one hour had past, the sun started to raise and it became busier outside.

I went back to the kitchen where I made a glass of milk ready. Than I walked back in the bedroom, placed the glass of milk on his table and crawled back to my still sleeping boyfriend in bed. Carefully I hugged him, not wanting to wake him yet. 'How did I end up this lucky?', asking myself such questions starts to become a habit of mine. Sometimes this all felt so unreal, like a way to beautiful dream or a fairytail that was told to me as a child. Jeon Jungkook was defenitly a Prince! He for sure escaped from a novel. Without thinking I started caressing through Jk's hair, admiring his perfect sleeping form. Lost in my own thoughts I didn't notice that the tattooed boy started smiling. I almost let out a loud yelp as he let out a cute snore and turned away from me. Shocked and a bit confused I stared at his back. After a few seconds I giggeld to myself.. 'This man..no wonder he is my boyfriend'. As I looked at Jungkook, a sudden idea came to my mind. Why not make his birthday morning a bit more fun?~

So I crawled down, under the blanket to spread his legs carefully so that I could fit in between them. As I pushed his boxers down gently,  I realised that he was already semi hard. Licking my lips at the feeling of his huge cock in my hand, I started kissing his thighs softly. Moving my hand up and down over his cock, I felt him growing harder in my hand. So I leaned down and took him between my lips. Carefully I licked around the top and heard Jungkook softly growl in his sleep. Smirking at the reaction I got, I took more of him in my mouth and moved my head gently up and down. After a while I moved faster and heard more growls and whines. I continued until I felt a hand on top of my head, "P-Princess? Y/N?". As answer I grabbed his hand and moved my head faster, sucking on the tip as I felt Jungkook grabbing my hair, tugging on it. "I-I will cum-", he warned me while moaning loudly. I started sucking on the top and played a bit with his balls. All of sudden I felt his warm cum in my mouth. I swallowed everything, not wasting anything and let go of him. Before I could do anything else I felt a tug on my arm and crawled back up, pushing the blanket a side and sticking my head out just to lay down on his chest.

Kookie looked at me, still tired but smiling, "Morning beautiful~ You should wake me up like this everyday". I giggeld and kissed his nose, "Sorry but just the birthday boy gets such a treatment~". He giggeld too and kissed me on my lips. Smiling in the kiss, I kissed back. Feeling his warm, soft lips against mine was my favorite. I loved waking up in his strong, warm arms. "Happy Birthday Kookie", I whispered as he leaned away. Kookie caressed gently his hand over my cheek and gave me his famous bunny smile, "Thank you! You're so good to me~". With that he sat up while still holding me in his arms. As he looked to the side I followed his gaze, eyeing the glass of milk I put there a while ago. I leaned over Kookie and gave it to him, sitting on his lap now. "For you~", I smiled at him.

Kookie looked at me for a while, not doing anything. I coudln't help but to blush under his gaze. Even after 2 years in our realtionship I coudln't help myself around him. He is just to charming and to attractive. Not that I'm complaining! Smirking, knowing the affect he had on me he took the glass from me and drank it empty in one sip. As he put the glass back on the table I noticed the milk around his lips. Just as I wanted to say something about it Jungkook wished it away with the back of his hand while starring in my eyes. This tease..       Without thinking I moved forward, pressing my lips on Jungkook's as I kissed him deeply, biting his lips gently. Jungkook kissed me back in the same way and a fire between us started. The sparkles flew around us. Just we two excisted in this world. It was our world!

After a heated make out we had to part because of lame air reasons. The tattooed man smirked at me, "Thank you beautiful~ This was the best birthday morning I ever had!". Kookie hugged me and whispered in my ear, "Let me pay you back today night! Your pussy will be so sore you won't walk tomorrow morning, promise~". With that he pushed me back in the bed and stood up, just to walk in the bathroom. I blushed and almost chocked on the air, "JUNGKOOK!", I whined while jumping up going after him. I heard him laugh as he close door right into my face. "JUNGKOOK! Open the door!", I started to laugh too and knocked against the door.

That was such a typical morning between us, we always had a lot of funny moments in our realtionship, with the serious and sad ones too. Sometimes we did behave like children, the other day we did behave like an old married couple and sometimes we did behave like newcomers to love. I missed him a lot when he was away on tour, so did he. We don't always have the same opinion, we are sometimes shy and weird around each other. We laugh and we cry together. But in the end, we always find a way to solve everything. And when I remember these funny moments, I know why I love this man so much and why I can overcome any pain for Jeon Jungkook!

After a few sconds Jungkook opened the door again, leaning against the doorway. Shirtless, just in boxers, his hair half wet and water dripping down his jawline, "What? Do you want to join Daddy in the shower?~". He smirked. He knew very well how he looked, what he did to me. I just stood there, not knowing what to say or how to breath, "Jungko-", in that moment he leaned down and stole a kiss from me. The bunny boy started to laugh at my reaction, "Wait in the kitchen beautiful~". With that Jungkook closed the bathroom door and started to shower. I just blinked, my brain not working, my body to suprised to move. That's it! My soul left my body, like always when he did that. But I enjoyed it way to much~

I smiled to myself, I was so happy to have this wonderfull soul in my live. 'God..You are crazy', I thought to myself while laughing, walking into the kitchen. As I waited for Jungkook, I thought about today evening. I still had so much to do when Kookie was gone to work, decorating the room, buying some stuff and practising the 'dance' routine I planned..

~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~💜~

(Should I write a Part 2? If yes,I would love to~)

[igottiny]

Got7 imagine and reaction to you having nipple piercings. FEMALE  reader version.

Authors note: Yes, I have seen ones like this before. HOWEVER, all of them paint a very inaccurate representation of healing time and after care for nipple piercings. For both men and women it takes at least six months to fully heal nipple piercings. Women often need longer due to hormonal fluctuations during their periods. And the first month (at bare minimum) should be hands and mouths OFF. Playing with them too early is a one way, non-refundable ticket to a nasty infection. Only time you should be handling them during this early period of healing is when you are cleaning them. Be safe, do your research, and take proper care of your piercings for fucks sake!!!!!

Mark - He had invited you over for dinner and a movie; a regular occurrence so far into your relationship. Yet today was different in and of itself. Today he wanted to progress the physical aspect of the relationship as it had been a few months since you started dating. The trust and feelings had grown and the two of you had grown comfortable with each other. Hugs, kisses, and general skinship were easy and natural.

So after dinner while you were cuddled up together on the couch he started testing your boundaries. A hand high on your thigh, another on your stomach under your shirt. When you didn’t pull away he grew bolder. The hand he had on your stomach rose until it set right under your left breast. Your shaky inhale made him take pause.

“Did I say you needed to stop,” you asked, glancing over your shoulder to look at him, nervous but sure. He pulled you closer kissing your shoulder when he finally cupped you through your thin bra and a look of confusion settled on his face. He ran his thumb down over where the nipple was to confirm that he had, in fact, felt what he assumed was a piercing. This was one thing he never expected.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It is. I’ve had them pierced for a couple years now. They are healed,” you reply softly. “Please Mark. Don’t stop.”

It wasn’t long before playing with the balls on the end of each barbell through your bra wasn’t enough. The moan you released when he pushed the braw down and took your exposed breasts fulling into his hands, massaging them and rolling his thumbs over your piercings. This was it. He was in heaven and you were the one.

Jackson - You had wanted to surprise him when he returned from tour so just a couple hours after he left you had gone in to see your regular piercer to have your nipples pierced. Four months later and you were well on your way to them being fully healed. Swelling was long gone and the soreness only flared back up if you had to take a lot of stairs that day. Otherwise everything was looking good for when Jackson returned home. On the day he got back into the country you set your plan in motion.

Walking through the front door he knew something was different. The apartment was too quiet. He had expected you to be their to greet him, and while he was disappointed, he reasoned that you were probably just delayed getting back home as it was the middle of the afternoon. However, when he opened the bedroom door to go and unpack he was greeted with a sight of you that had him on his knees. There you were propped up on the pillows against the headboard, nude, with a glass of wine in hand, and did he catch a glint of light off your chest or was he seeing things? No. He wasn’t seeing things and the realization had him shook to the core.

“Babe. Are those… Did you? They real?” His words came out in fragmented sentences from disbelief. Your nod confirming his findings. Leaving the suit cases where they were he practically ran the short distance to you wasting no time in kissing you and cupping your breasts. 
 “When,” he questioned.

“The day you left. They are healed enough now we can have fun with them, but please be gentle. They still have a couple more months to go until they are fully healed.”

“Yes ma’am,” He replied twerking your right nipple slightly. He smirked as your pleasured gasp. Oh how much fun he was going to have with this.

JB - Having had several different piercings over the course of his life he was really intrigued when you had mentioned wanting to get your nipples pierced. Four weeks later after he had returned from tour the two of you went to his piercer for your appointment. While he didn’t exactly like another man even seeing you topless, he respected his professionalism. Soon you were marked for the piercings and laying down on the table in the enclosed studio. He held your hand each time the piercer picked up each of the piercing clamps and each needle. You had squeezed his hand hard as each needle went through and he was sure something was broken now.

While the piercings were fresh, he couldn’t help but admire how the barbells looked. He quite liked your breasts to begin with, but not they were even more tantalizing. As the piercer walked you through the after care he was disappointed that he had to keep his hands and mouth off them for at least the next one to two months. However, he knew this was par the course with healing piercings. They were wounds that needed to heal after all and he didn’t want you getting an infection.

“They look amazing baby. I hope your ready for all the fun we are going to have with those in a couple months once they are healed enough.” His gaze was dark and swam with promises of pleasure that sent a shiver down your spine.

Jinyoung - You had first brought up the idea of getting a piercing to add another element into your love life with him. He wasn’t apposed but he wanted you to get them only if it was something you really wanted to and not just because you thought it would be something he would like. Months had passed and while he was on tour you decided to bite the bullet and get both of your nipples pierced.

The first time he saw them was a couple weeks after you got them while he was on a video call with you in his hotel room. The swelling was still present but the jewelry complemented you perfectly and he was painfully hard in seconds. He groaned and gripped his erection through his boxers.

“Fuck, baby. You are going to be the death of me. This is criminal.”

The way you smirked and supported your own breast with an arm wrecked him. He swore that once he was home from tour next week that you were going to pay for this; and once the piercings were healed, he wasn’t going to let you rest.

Youngjae - You had been out of town for a girls weekend away with your friends. All of you had come home with either a new tattoo or new piercings. When you returned home and Youngjae hugged you, you winced and flinched away. Your breasts were swollen and still sore, the piercings only two days into healing. He pulled away concerned he had hurt you somehow. You just shook your head and told him he was fine, you were just sore cause of the new piercings.

His eyebrows rose comically. He needed you to say that again. He wasn’t sure he heard you correctly.

“Come again. You got what pierced now?” His tone had risen to a near squeak causing you to giggle.

“My nipples Youngjae. We all got new piercings or tattoos over the weekend. They are just sore.”

He mentally checked out as his gaze lowered to your covered chest. It was then that he started to mentally undress you and bit down on his lower lip with want. When he started to reach for the hem of your shirt you had to remind him that they were still fresh and that he needed to wait another month or two before he could get hands with them. He pouted but he understood. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt you.

“I hope you know what you are in for once those are healed babe.” You didn’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes and you were sure that these piercings were one of your best decisions ever.

Bambam - It really didn’t take long for your relationship to turn physical. Neither of you could deny the innate attraction you felt when you met. Physical affection was a love language both of you spoke. So when he had pushed you up against the counter, lips on yours and hands gripping your waist tightly, while you were over and cooking together, you weren’t surprised. If anything, you welcomed it.

What you weren’t expecting was for the grip on your waist to suddenly be on your ass. Not that you were complaining. You both were perfectly ok with this progression. Clean up could wait, and you had an hour before dinner would be done in the oven; there was nothing wrong with having dessert first. You are both adults.

The trip up to his room was simultaneously short but entirely too long; both your shirts lost along the way. The time at the gym recently has been doing him good and you just couldn’t help yourself as you both explored the new exposed skin. Soon the fingers that traced your spine became insistent as they reached your bra. Throwing it aside BamBam froze, not prepared in the slightest for what he found.

“Since when did you have these done princess,” he asked with a smirk as he ran his thumbs over your nipples.

“Since years ago. Is there a problem,” you asked with a sarcastic lilt.

“Not at all,” he said stressing each word. “In fact, its perfect.” Leaning down he took one bud into his mouth. You were in for a wild night.

Yugyeom - You missed him. Yes, he had only been gone for a month, but you missed his presence. He’s a goof ball that makes you happy just being with him and the nights alone were making you miserable. The days and nights you video called him while he was in his hotel room were better than those you didn’t. You wanted to plan something special for his return home from the world tour in a few months. It just so happened that it was something that you had been thinking about for yourself as well.

The timing was off the day he got back and nothing was going the way you wanted it to. Your kitchen aid mixer malfunctioned and threw flour all over the kitchen and in your panic to turn it off and unplug it sent the rest of the ingredients for the cake flying across the counter and onto the floor. It was a mess, you were a mess. Cleaning it up was a nightmare which lead to you being so focused on that that the food in the oven and on the stove burnt. It all had to be thrown out. On top of that the pilot light was out and you had to fight with the water heater to get it back on so you could shower. Now in the shower you felt defeated and simply let the finally warm water drown your sorrows. You didn’t even hear Yugyeom come in the bathroom.

He slipped into the shower behind you, arms circling your waist. You jumped but quickly relaxed into his embrace as you realized it was him. With a kiss to your shoulder and cheek he brought a hand up to turn your face to him for a real kiss when his hand bushed past one of your breast. Coming to a full stop, hand hovering mid air, he looked down.

Blinking rapidly he whispered, “What?”

“I got them pierced Yuggie. About three months ago. I’ve been thinking about getting them done since I turned 18 and finally just went for it. I love them. Do you?”

He turned you around to face him and gapped at your pierced nipples like a fish out of water. He was stunned. He had no words for how he felt. “Girl, you are crazy insane. I… I don’t even know what to say. Is today my birthday? I can touch them right?”

“It’s not your birthday you goober. But yes, you can touch. They are healed enough.”

He didn’t waste a second before his hands were enveloping your breasts and suddenly, your day was much, much better.

Authors note #2: If you would like a male reader version of this please send me an ask to request.

[svnflowervol666]

Before You Go (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: angst

Author’s Note: This was based on a request to write a bit about Harry based on the song Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi! I switched up the context a bit to give it a happy ending like the anon requested, but I hope you all still enjoy regardless. This was a ton of fun for me to write, so thank you anon for sending it my way! Let me know what you all would like to see next from me! Take care and tpwk.

The night before Harry left for tour was meant to be a peaceful night in with his girl. They were supposed to enjoy a home-cooked meal that they prepared together and spend the rest of the evening loving on each other before Harry left for his three-month-long tour. Somewhere along the line, an argument had broken out and it escalated to the point where they were both shouting some of the nastiest and most heartbreaking things to each other that they’d regretted as soon as the words left their mouth. They said things that would take a long time to forgive each other for, and it did. Both Harry and Y/N went to bed without saying “I love you,” something that they swore a thousand times to never do.

In the morning, she didn’t even bother telling him goodbye. Harry was made to see himself out on his own while she refused to even acknowledge his presence at their bedroom door when he was telling her he had to leave for the airport. His heart never truly stopped hurting. He texted her every once in a while just to let her know he had made it to whichever city he was headed to. She always opened them immediately, so he knew she was at least eager to hear of his safe travels. Each night, at exactly 10pm London time where their shared home was, she’d receive a call from Harry. He wanted to talk to her, but she never answered. Harry figured out after the fourth or fifth call that he’d inevitably end up talking to a voicemail machine instead of his lover (if that’s what she even considered herself to be anymore), but he did it anyway. Every nightly voicemail consisted of Harry telling Y/N about his day and about how he was sorry for the things that he said that night and how he wished she’d at least pick up the phone so he could hear her voice. She never did. And that broke Harry even more.

From her end, she’d spent the first few weeks without Harry wallowing in her own sorrows. No one saw her aside from her closest friend who had to force her out of bed and make her take a shower and eat a real meal that wasn’t popcorn and an entire bottle of wine. It felt like a breakup, but she knew it wasn’t. At least she hoped it wasn’t. It was clear from Harry’s nightly voicemails that he still cared about her and wanted to sort through all that was said the night before he left, but she just couldn’t find it in herself to pick up the phone.

She was embarrassed. The things that happened that night were things she wished she could bury and never think about for the rest of her life, but they haunted her every time she saw his name a contact photo illuminate her phone screen. Harry didn’t deserve someone who shouted at him the things that she shouted, and he certainly didn’t deserve someone that couldn’t even pick up the phone when he called to apologize and say goodnight.

More time passed. Y/N had slowly started to communicate more with Harry. Sure, it was only once every few days to let him know that she was at least doing alright, but this something was better than nothing. He still called every night and she still hadn’t found the courage to answer. It wasn’t until one particularly rough night that Harry was finally able to hear his girl’s voice after all of this time that he’d been touring the world without her.

She had had a little spa day for herself at home, treating herself to one of the expensive face masks that Harry had bought her for Valentine’s Day whilst soaking in a tub filled with her favorite bath fizzy. After letting her skin turn wrinkly and the water go lukewarm, she hopped out and reached for her favorite body butter. She worked it into her sore muscles, giving herself her own massage of some sort. When she reached the aching heel of her foot, she paused. There, faded but still visible, was the smiley face tattoo that Harry had given her when they had gotten tipsy one night during a vacation in Mexico. Harry had a matching one on the bottom of his big toe (she had drunkenly insisted that they both give each other tattoos so they looked like a proper couple). The happy memory resonated deep in her belly and made her feel sick. How could she have let their relationship come to this? How could she have just let him quite literally walk out on her without talking through their fight?

Harry’s call came like clockwork, and as expected, Y/N didn’t answer. But what Harry didn’t know was that while she normally waited until morning to listen to what he had to say to her that night, she picked up her phone immediately after getting the notification that she had a voicemail this time. His voice sounded tired and exhausted, meaning it must have been extremely late wherever he was (she cursed herself internally for forgetting where he told her he was in his last voicemail). The first half of his message was typical, letting her know how the show went and that he was sticking by his promise to drink more water while he was on the road. It was the last half of his message that stuck out to her, that made her heart shatter even more than it had when she’d seen the tattoo on the bottom of her foot.

“I know I hurt ye’ bad, but... I just....... Is there somethin’ I could have said before I left tha’ would’ve made all of this go away? Fuck, Y/N. I should have made you talk t’ me. I shouldn’t have just walked out. I’m sorry, baby. Anyways, I’m off t’ soundcheck now. I’m guessin’ you’re probably in bed too or you just don’t wanna talk t’ me still which is fine too. Good night.... I love you.”

Before she could even comprehend what she was doing, her fingers had pressed the redial button and she heard Harry’s voice in real time. She felt adrenaline course through her veins when he spoke her name through the tiny speaker of her cell phone.

“Y/N?”

“Harry,” her voice broke up through the salty, wet tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“Y/N,” Harry repeated more seriously this time, “’s everything alright? Talk t’ me.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” her tears flowed freely now as sobs wracked through her body and made her soul ache.

“Baby, ye’ gotta breathe. Come back t’ me, yeah? Just focus on your breathing.”

Even from halfway across the globe and in a completely different time zone, Harry was able to calm her down. Quite frankly, Harry would have done anything to hear his lover’s voice again, but this certainly wasn’t how he’d pictured she’d sound after all this time. He knew his crew was waiting on him back in the arena where he was doing a practice run of the show, but he couldn’t care less. 

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked once he heard her sobs subside into soft whimpers.

“I...,” she paused as if what she was about to tell Harry would hurt her physically.

“I need to see you. I’m ready to talk.”

//

She shifted uncomfortably in the airplane seat as it landed smoothly on the landing strip. Out of all of her years on this earth, she didn’t think she had ever been this nervous. The conversation she was about to have with Harry was one that was months in the making, and she had no idea how she was going to react once she finally saw him with her own two eyes instead of through posts on instagram and twitter. She had no idea how she was going to react when she was finally able to touch him again, or if he didn’t want to touch her again. The thought had crossed her mind that he might end things with her while she was out here, but she knew deep down that it was just her anxiety getting the best of her. Harry told her he loved her every night and put so much effort into letting her know that he still wanted to make things work with her, so she tried her best to hold her bearings and remain in one piece.

As the plane rolled to a halt, she realized Harry was waiting for her smack dab in the middle of the tarmac. He was bundled up in a hoodie and sweatpants and she could make out his oversized pearl necklace despite being several yards away from him. She didn’t need to be closer to him to see that he looked tired and unlike the way he did when he smiled and pranced about on stage each night. Maybe he had been taking this fight just as harshly as she was.

Y/N felt her heart beat in her ears as the steps automatically lowered themselves onto the ground to allow her to exit the plane. The cool air hit her in the face as she made her way down with her small suitcase filled with enough clothes for a few days in tow. Harry was looking directly at her as she descended the plane, but she couldn’t do the same. It wasn’t until she standing right in front of him that she lifted her head up from where she had been staring at her feet that she finally made eye contact with the green-eyed creature that she’d called her lover for years now.

Nothing was said, only a bone-crushing hug was shared between them as they reuinited. It was too windy to hear the sobs that escaped from both of their lips, but they each knew the other was crying due to the way the other’s chest heaved with each breath. They were as close as they possibly could have been. She had her head tucked into his neck while he burried his face in her hair, and they stood idle in the center of a busy airport in a foreign country. It didn’t matter to them, though. All of these weeks spent wondering how the other felt whilst being too scared to confront the other about it had whithered away into nothing. They were back with each other, and they knew they’d be alright.

[hopelikethemoon]

Pool (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Pool Rating: Explicit  Length: 3100 Warnings: Fluff and shower sex.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set after “Anniversary” in 1999. FULL DISCLOSURE: This chapter is entirely unbeta’d and I’m not 100% sure what I’ve written makes sense. I’ve been in horrific pain since Sunday night. I’m talking on a scale of 1-10, I was at an 11 while writing this. I’m loopy, sore, and haven’t slept in two nights. I think, with my naps, I’ve had four hours of sleep over the past two days. So I have no idea what you’re walking into but, you know, I make great decisions. Enjoy???? Summary: Reader and Javier continue celebrating. 

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You propped your chin up on your palm, tapping your fingers against your cheek as you looked across the table at Javier. 

He had his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he calculated out the tip total. His brows furrowed momentarily as he double checked his math, before he jotted his signature down and sat the bill aside. 

Javier glanced up at you, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head and smiled at him. “I was just appreciating the view.”

He chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked away briefly, “You’re gonna make me blush, baby.”

“Maybe.” You stretched your leg out beneath the table and tapped your foot against his ankle. “It's only my first anniversary once.” You pointed out. “So I’m savoring it.”

“I think that champagne went to your head,” Javier retorted with a smirk, tapping his fingers against his temple. 

You rolled your eyes, “I’d flip you off if this weren’t a nice restaurant.” 

Javier snorted, shaking his head slowly as he nudged at your calf beneath the table. “Alright, so you were appreciating the view?”

“Mhm.” You bit down on the edge of your bottom lip as you held his gaze. “I was trying to remember what you looked like that first day.”

“About ten years younger.” Javier scratched at his jaw, leaning an arm against the table. “A little less grey.”

“A lot less grey.” You teased, reaching across the table to rest your hand over his. “Still just as handsome though.” 

“Yeah?”

You cocked your head to the side, “Have I ever told you how much I love your eyes?”

“I always figured they were part of the package.” He shrugged, scraping his fingers over his mustache to neaten it up as you studied him. “They’re not that special.”

“Well, I think they are.” You shrugged, “They're kind. Even on your worst days, even chewing someone out… They stay so gentle. I don’t know if you even know that.” 

“I hadn’t made a note of it, no.” Javier shifted again, leaning back and then forward in his seat. “You done?”

“I guess I am.” You laughed, giving his hand three squeezes, “I was planning to sit here and tell you all the things I love.”

He gave you a look. “This is the last time I’m buying you champagne.”

You lowered your voice, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I can promise you this. It has more to do with you fucking me into the hotel mattress than it does the champagne.” Your brows rose upwards as you leaned back in your chair, “So we can stop that if you want.”

Javier scoffed, “Now that’s just cruel, baby.” 

You shrugged, “It’s just the facts.” 

“Alright, what else is on your list?” He picked you the red and white mint the waiter had left with the bill, fiddling with the wrapper, before popping it into his mouth. 

You pursed your lips as you studied him. “Your lips are definitely on the top of the list.” You tapped your foot against his, mulling over your decision. “Your nose.”

“My nose?”

“It’s a good nose.”

His brows furrowed. “My nose?” He questioned again, rubbing his finger down the length of it. “So you like... my face?”

“Obviously.” You laughed, reaching for your champagne glass and downing the last of it. Maybe it was the champagne, but you felt happy, bubbly, and just a little bit more in love with Javier than you were yesterday. But that wasn’t something new. Every day you found yourself falling in love with him all over again. 

Even on the days where you wondered if Steve would help you hide the body. 

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” You questioned as you stood up and smoothed your hands over the skirt of your dress. 

Javier couldn’t help but laugh, “I can only imagine.” He held his hand out for you and you took ahold of it as the two of you walked towards the front of the restaurant. 

“I’ve always wanted to jump into a pool in a nice dress.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” You squeezed his hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” 

“You’re serious?”

You stopped, turning to face him. “You can watch if you don’t want to jump in.” 

Javier scoffed, pulling you towards him. “If you’re jumping in, I’m jumping in.”

A grin spread over your lips as you met his eyes, draping your free arm over his shoulder as you leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Now you’re seeing things my way.” 

“The question is… the inside or outside pool?” Javier questioned, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“Indoor will likely be vacant since it’s nice out.” You suggested, rubbing your lips together as you considered the options. “Indoor.” 

You tightened your hold on Javier’s hand, guiding him past the elevators and down the hallway — following the scent of chlorine. 

“We could go back up to the room and get our swimsuits.”

“Or we could jump into the pool fully dressed.” You arched a brow at him. “You were on board a second ago.” 

“I’m still on board.” Javier shrugged a shoulder. “Just keeping our options open.” 

“You better not be keeping your options open.” You held up your left hand, wiggling your fingers. “You’re stuck with me.” 

“That is not what I meant.” Javier huffed, stepping ahead of you to open the door that led into the pool room. 

As you had expected — the pool was vacant. Beyond the wall of windows, you could see that there were still people enjoying the last rays of sunlight at the outside pool. 

“We chose right.” You pointed out as you stepped past him and slid your purse off your shoulders. You say it down on one of the pool chairs, tucking your earrings, necklace, and ring into the inner pocket for safekeeping. 

“It’s silk.” Javier stated as he tugged off his tie and passed it to you. 

“And a gift from Josie.” You reminded him as you folded the tie carefully and placed it into your purse. “Have you ever done this before?”

Javier looked between you and the pool, “I was always fond of jumping in buckass naked.” He gave you an unamused look. “Can’t say I’m interested in getting arrested for that.”

“No, that wouldn’t be ideal.” You laughed and kicked off your heels, walking towards the edge of the pool. 

“Is this a bucket list thing?” Javier questioned. You glanced back over your shoulder, watching as he peeled off his socks and tucked them into his shoes. “Did you get a look at all of my greys and decide it was time to start on one?” He tossed his wallet onto the chair beside your purse, before joining you at the edge of the pool. 

You shook your head, “This is what happens when you pair a bottle and a half of champagne with a really good mood.” 

Javier turned to grin at you, “So it was the champagne?” 

“Oh, fuck off Javier!” You laughed, getting your chance to flip him off, just before you leapt into the pool. 

You resurfaced just as Javier jumped in to join you in the pool. You wiped at your eyes, laughing as he came back up with his hair plastered to his forehead. 

“Well?” Javier questioned, coughing a little as he waded in the water, keeping himself afloat. “Was it everything you thought it would be, baby?”

“Oh yeah.” You grinned at him as you swam towards him, reaching out to ruffle the hair that was stuck to his forehead. “Thank you.”

“For jumping into the pool with you?” He arched a brow at you. “I’d do anything you asked, baby.” 

“Anything?” You wiggled your brows at him, leaning in to kiss him. “You taste like pool.” You laughed, brushing your nose against his. 

“I wonder why.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you towards him. 

“Could it be that we’re in the pool?” You laughed, winding both of your arms around his shoulders. “We should do this every year.”

“This?”

“No! Just… something spontaneous.” You kicked your legs in the water to keep your dress from dragging you down. “I mean, last year we did decide to get married.”

Javier let his head tilt back as he laughed, “What are we going to do next year?”

You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, “Matching tattoos?”

“I could do matching tattoos.” Javier grinned at you, running his hand up and down your back. “Did you have a good day?” He questioned, keeping you close to him, as he guided you both towards the shallow side of the pool.

“It was perfect.” You told him with a warm

Smile, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow. As much as I love the girls, this is really ice.”

“We never got to really enjoy just us without being parents too.” Javier agreed with you, rubbing at the small of your back. 

“I feel guilty about it sometimes,” You admitted, chewing on your bottom lip as you searched his eyes. “But I think that’s normal. Wanting a break from reality — just for a day or two.”

“I think that’s perfectly normal, baby.” Javier assured you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “You ready to go back up to our room?”

You nodded, laughing a little, “Yeah. I think I’ve got my fill of chlorine.” 

 —

 “Cold?” Javier questioned as he stopped unbuttoning his shirt to reach into the shower and check the temperature of the water. 

Your teeth chattered a little as you wrapped your arms around your waist. “Just a bit. Know any way to fix that?” 

“I might.” He arched a brow at you, tracing his tongue over the edge of his teeth as his gaze raked over you. “I think the first step is getting you out of that dress. You’re dripping everywhere.”

“So are you.” You retorted, rubbing your hands over your bare arms as Javier crowded close to you. You turned to face the mirror behind you, meeting Javier’s gaze in the reflection. “I can’t reach the zipper.” 

Javier brushed your hair out of the way, kissing the back of your neck before working the zipper down your spine. “I’ve been waiting for this all night.” 

“Oh?” You questioned as he peeled the straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting the wet fabric drop and pool at your feet. “You already got me naked once today.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “And yet I look forward to it every time.” 

You turned back around to face him, feeling much warmer now that his gaze was wandering over your naked body. “I guess I can’t judge. I’m just as bad.” You reached out to finish unbuttoning his shirt, tugging the tails out of his pants before shoving the sleeves down his arms. 

Javier cupped your left breast, dragging his thumb roughly over the pebbled peak of your nipple as he pressed you back against the counter. 

“I love you.” You reminded him as you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

He trailed his hand down your side, grabbing at your hip as he pressed his knee between your thighs. “I love you too, baby.” He murmured, kissing the hollow of your throat. 

“We’re wasting water.” You said, tugging at his hair with one hand, while the other slid down to work at the zipper of his slacks. 

Javier kissed his way up your throat, before he was nose-to-nose with you, “Then I guess we better get in.” 

You grinned triumphantly as you tugged his slacks down his hips, “I can think of something I want to get in me.” You tossed back, scraping your nails lightly over his lower stomach, playing with the coarse hair that led downwards, before you slipped out of his grasp. 

“You’re a tease. You know that, baby?” Javier retorted as he shucked off his slacks and boxers. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, a smirk playing over your lips. “A tease would wind you up and offer no release.” You gave his cock a pointed look. “And I’m not interested in doing that.” 

You slid your pool-soaked underwear down your thighs, kicking them aside before stepping into shower. The warm water made you hiss softly, a sharp contrast from the icy pool water that chilled your skin. 

Javier followed you into the shower, curling an arm around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. “Even looking like this, you’re the goddamn most beautiful woman.” 

“Looking like this?” You pressed your ass back against him. “What? Is there a problem with runny mascara and pool hair?”

Javier snorted, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck. “It's a good look on you.” He mumbled as his hands wandered up your stomach to cup your breasts. 

You curled your fingers around his forearm, nails biting into his skin. “Javier.” 

“I’m not going to tease, baby.” He promised you releasing his hold on your right breast, his hand traveling downwards until he found his destination between your thighs. 

You let yourself get lost in the moment. The water falling against your skin, the steam rising from the warmth of the shower, his fingers grazing over your clit as he wound you up. 

You were still sensitive from before. Thighs aching from the strain, cunt tender from the way he’d slammed into you — but you wanted more. 

Sure, the two of you made time for each other at home, but this little respite gave you freedom from the daily demands of life. It didn’t matter if you slept til ten tomorrow because he’d kept you up all night. 

“Oh.” You breathed out as you sank back against his chest, spreading your thighs wider as he stroked his fingers over your slick center.

Javier rasped out your name as you reached behind you and curled your fingers around the back of his neck, “You’re so fucking responsive, baby. Have I ever told you how crazy that drives me?”

“Show me.” You hissed, grinding back against his cock. “Don’t make me wait, Javi.” 

His teeth scraped over the curve of your neck, as he pulled his fingers away from you. “Maybe I should make you wait.” Javier taunted. “Make you beg.”

You turned in his hold, water running down your back as you met his gaze. “You know, two can play that game.” You tilted your head backwards, letting the water soak into your hair. “Maybe,” You mimicked his voice. “We should just shower and go to sleep.”

Javier pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as his eyes followed the path of the water as the rivulets ran down your breasts and stomach. “We could do that.” He retorted, “But I don’t think either of us want that.” 

You exhaled shakily as you watched his hand wrap around his cock, slowly pumping his fist along the length. “You’d be right. Tragically.” You rolled your eyes, a wry grin spreading over your lips. 

“Thought so.” Javier said lowly, working his hand over his length still. “C’mere, baby.”

You closed the short distance between the two of you, reaching out to brush your fingers over his cheek. “Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah?” Javier cocked his head to the side, curling his hand around your hip and pulling you towards him. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “There’s no one that I’d rather jump into a pool with.” 

He gave your hip a playful swat. “You’re ridiculous.” 

You grinned, sliding your arms over his shoulders as you leaned in to kiss him. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Javier guided you back under the shower’s fall, before pinning you against the wall. “Right now, I’m more concerned about keeping you off your toes.”

You snorted, running your hands over his shoulders. “Let me see what we’re working with.” You gave his arm a squeeze as you looked downwards. “Hang on.” 

He helped you balance on one foot as you pressed the heel of your other foot into the little built-in shelf near the faucet head. “You got it?”

“I think so.” You nodded, holding his gaze as he slid his hand down your hip, curling his fingers around your thigh and drawing your leg around his hips. “Oh.”

Javier groaned out your name as you reached down to curl your fingers around his cock, holding him steady as he slid into you. 

Your head fell back against the shower wall and you bit down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out as he pulled out and drove back into you. 

“That’s it.” You urged, grabbing at his arms and his shoulders for support as he started to move. 

Javier held fast to your hip, keeping your leg firmly wrapped around him. His lips ghosted down your throat, his tongue dipping out against your skin. “You feel so fucking good.” 

“So do you.” You scraped your nails over his back, just to hear him hiss. “Good?”

“Fuck, yes.” Javier’s teeth caught against your collarbone, causing you to clench around him in response. 

Through the opaque shower curtain, you could make out your reflections in the mirror. Two blurry bodies moving together.

Twelve years as partners, seven years as a couple, and a year of marriage. It felt like the years had slipped by in the blink of an eye. 

You curled your fingers in his hair, a quiet moan slipping past your lips as he felt that subtle shift in the way he moved. “Come on, Javi. Come on.” You urged, nails scraping down the back of his neck as you tilted your head to kiss him.

He was there before you, his pace turning uneven as he spilled into you. His hand hastily wedged between your bodies as he coaxed you over the edge with him. It wasn’t as earth shattering as earlier — but the pleasure still warmed every inch of you. 

“Shit.” Javier huffed out as he lost hold of your hip and you slid an inch down the wall. He stumbled back, slipping from you, and you managed to grab at his arms for support, getting your foot back on the ground without falling.

“Fuck!” 

“Sorry, baby.” He rubbed his thumb over your hip. 

You laughed, shoving him playfully in the chest “I mean, just drop me next time.” 

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll remember that.” He gave your ass a quick swat. “The water’s getting cold.”

“The hotel probably pulled the plug on us.” You winked at him, leaning up to kiss him. “I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He chuckled, winding his fingers through his hair. 

You brushed your nose against his, stealing another kiss. “Rude.” 

Javier curled his arms around you, pulling you towards his chest. “I love you too, baby.” He assured you, even though you didn’t need to hear it to know it. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 9: Now I Love Your Shadow And I Love Your Curls]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. 

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex, violence, and drug use.

Word Count: 7.6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @maggieroseevans​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​

Field Trip

“You want to go to Chicago with me?”                

I coughed, having almost inhaled a chunk of pineapple off my slice of GrubHubbed pizza. We were sitting on the grass outside Forks And Spoons under the shade of the maple trees, which were turning from jade to ruby to amber to fool’s gold, rejoining the earth they once rose from one fallen leaf at a time. It hadn’t rained in almost four days—was that some kind of record?!—and the leaves littering the ground crunched when I stepped on them, which I did purposefully and often. The breeze was soft and whispery and temperate. I could get used to this whole having actual seasons thing. “What, in like a hypothetical, at some point in my life kind of way?”

Joe smiled. His U Chicago hoodie of the day was black. “No, as in this weekend.”

“Really?”

“The Cubs have a game on Saturday, and it’s supposed to be rainy and overcast the whole time, and I just thought...” He shrugged, toying with a piece of pizza crust before tossing it to the squirrels. He’s nervous, I realized. How the hell do I have the ability to make the sexy undead Italian man nervous? “It might be nice for us to be able to get away for a few days. Away from my family. Away from Charlie. Not that I don’t appreciate the ambient noise of his snoring from the living room couch, it’s super endearing, I seriously consider dating him instead of you at least twice a week.”

“Go for it. Charlie could use a rich husband. His pension is pathetic.”

“You wouldn’t miss me?”

“I am not necessarily opposed to clandestinely seducing my sugar daddy stepdad should the occasion arise.”

Joe crossed himself like a nun passing tattooed, cursing, lip-pierced teenagers on the sidewalk. “Lord, protect me from this harlot.”

A weekend away. No Charlie, no constant and chaotic whirlwind of Lees, no Ben. I hadn’t spoken to Ben since our misadventure in the Lee kitchen; if he wasn’t avoiding me of his own volition, he was following orders to stay away. Joe claimed that they’d talked it out. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. “I accept your invitation. Although, truthfully, I’d rather get hit by a bus than watch an entire real-life, no-commercial-breaks baseball game.”

“I accept your acceptance. And I’ll throw in a visit to the Shedd Aquarium, just for you. They have baby sea otters.”

“Sweet.” I checked my iPhone. “I’m gonna be late for Chemistry.”

“Anything fun planned?”

“We’re doing a lab involving hydrochloric acid. I’m highly concerned that Ben will accidentally spill some on himself. The miraculous instantaneous healing thing might raise a few questions.”

“Hm,” Joe replied. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at my bandaged hand. And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Joe, I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” He took a preoccupied swig of his Dr. Pepper. Solemnity never seemed right on him; it was like he was wearing somebody else’s skin. “You’ve mentioned that.”

“Hey. Mob guy.”

Now his eyes flicked to mine.                              

“No more sad spaghetti.”

“Okay.” He surrendered, took my face in his hands, gave me a kiss on each cheek and then one quick parting peck on the forehead. “You win. I’m not sad. I’m ecstatic, actually. I’m gonna be eating my weight in hotdogs and mustard-slathered pretzels on Saturday. What’s there not to be ecstatic about?”

“The fact that your license says you’re only twenty and consequently can’t get a beer?”

Joe blinked, remembering. “Fuck.”

I drained my Diet Coke, flung my pizza crust to the skittering grey squirrels—no eerie albino forest friends today—and pulled on my backpack. “See ya. Have an awesome time in Game Theory.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t!” he chimed, waving, grinning compliantly; and yet did I still sense some lingering menace of disquiet, of fear? I suspected I did. Chicago would cure everything.

Ben tensed when I walked into Professor Belvin’s classroom, ran his fingers through his unruly blond hair, peered fixedly down at his notebook and feigned obliviousness. There was already a metal tray of Erlenmeyer flasks, labeled bottles of solutions, burettes, goggles, gloves, and an unassembled ring stand crowding our small table by the open window. Autumn air poured in like seawater through cracks in the hull of a ship.

“Guess who’s gonna see the Cubs play up close and personal this Saturday?” I announced.

He pretended to have just noticed me. “...You...? But that doesn’t sound like you.”

“It was Joe’s idea. I’m acting like I’m not totally thrilled and freaking out about it, but I am. Don’t tell him.”

Now Ben was the one staring at my bandaged hand. His green eyes were large and unfocused.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.  

“Sure,” Ben returned noncommittally.

I started skimming through the packet of lab instructions and setting up our titration experiment as Professor Belvin circulated through the classroom, observing, commenting, offering suggestions and critiques. My wounded hand—still sore in the lull between Advil doses and relatively useless—was quite the embarrassing hinderance; I fumbled with a large glass flask and almost dropped it.

Ben shook his head and reached out to stop me. “Here, oh my god, this is so pitiful, sit down. Please sit down. I’ll set it up. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” I peeked at his notebook. “Your handwriting is atrocious. Haven’t you had like a century to work on that?”

“Penmanship was never at the top of my to-do list, tragically.”

“What language is that, anyway?” The phrases scrawled in black ink in Ben’s notebook definitely weren’t English. Or Italian. “Elvish? Are you a lowkey Lord Of The Rings fan? Magic and self-sacrifice and nearly insurmountable evil, I could see that being your thing.”

He smirked, struggling with the ring stand. “It’s Welsh.”

“Welsh,” I repeated, perplexed. “Welsh...like how Gwil is Welsh?”

“Precisely.”

Professor Belvin checked in on us, nodded in approval, reminded me that I was always welcome to stop by at bowling league activities, and resumed his wandering.

“Gwil still speaks it,” Ben continued. “The rest of them speak it too. At least enough for basic communication.”

“I didn’t know,” I said, fascinated, examining the long, unfamiliar words riddled with Ls and Ws and Cs. “But that must be very useful.”

“It is. Welsh is nearly a dead language at this point. It’s like talking in code. I always refused to learn it on principle...or maybe I was just being difficult. I would study other languages, Arabic, Japanese...but not Welsh. That was always Gwil’s language. Their language. It was a Lee thing. But now...”

“Now you’re sort of a Lee too,” I finished for him, smiling.

“Whatever,” Ben said, hiding behind his bangs.

I watched him as he at last tamed the ring stand, secured the burette, placed the Erlenmeyer flask. Then he began reading the labels on the solution bottles. “Guess what else.”

“What, Baby Swan?”

I grinned, showing off my unremarkable, entirely benign human teeth. “I’ll bring you back your very own U Chicago hoodie.”

That night, after a pleasantly prosaic dinner with Charlie—burgers, one veggie and one of the conventional variety, and milkshakes at Danny’s Diner—I started packing a small, Arizona-sky-blue suitcase as sparse raindrops pattered against the roof and moonlight streamed in through the open window. Then I ticked off my mental inventory.

“Jeans, sweaters, pajamas, socks...”

I pawed through the top drawer of my old, scratched dresser—the same one that had once upon a time been Renee’s—and contemplated the bra and panty options. Would my theme be comfort and practicality, or feral impenitent seductress? Friday and Saturday in Chicago would be our first nights alone together. That had to be significant, right? After some deliberation, I gathered a handful of lacy, transparent, and/or exceptionally skimpy lingerie from Victoria’s Secret that Jessica had more or less forced upon me during a shopping trip in Port Angeles last month. As I dropped them into the open suitcase, I glanced up to see the albino owl outside my open bedroom window.

“You never know,” I told the owl, shrugging.

It leered judgmentally back at me with those gory red eyes.

“Oh shut up. How many eggs have you laid in your lifetime, Casper The Unfriendly Ghost? Probably like a bazillion. Freaking feathery trollop.”

The owl had nothing to offer in its own defense.

“Why don’t you ever come around when Joe’s here? I’m sure he’d love to meet you. He’s pale and weird too. Although I like his eyes a little better than yours. No offense, Snowflake.”

The owl blinked, tilted its gaze at me, ruffled its feathers and sent the raindrops that had gathered there flying in every direction.

I slid my iPhone out of my back pocket, spun around, and snapped a quick selfie with the owl in the background. “Say cheese, Marshmallow!”

The owl immediately unfurled its wings and flapped off into the trees, vanishing.

“Huh. I guess homegirl is camera shy.” I texted my selfie to Archer, typing out with my thumbs: I am the Steve Irwin of Forks. Behold, one of my many forest friends.

Archer replied a few minutes later: WOW! Pasty and mildly disturbing. Exactly your type. :)

“Yours too, apparently,” I murmured, smiling in my empty room.

I went to my full-length mirror with the plastic, teal-colored border, briefly appraised my reflection, felt a dull swell of approval for what I saw there. The version of myself that had once been so consumed by fears of inadequacy seemed impossibly far away, maybe even fictitious, a dream so vivid I could mistake it for truth. Three things were taped across the top of the mirror: Joe’s Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!! post-it, his Official Whatever You Want Pass, and a photo of us dressed up together and standing in front of the limo in the Lees’ driveway just before the Calawah University Homecoming dance. I peeled off the Official Whatever You Want Pass, carefully folded it into a neat little square, and tucked it into my wallet.

When the rain began to pour and thunder rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, I closed my bedroom window; but I remembered to leave it unlocked for Joe.

Departure

“Got your license?”

“Yes, Dad,” Joe sighed.

“Got your airport snacks?”

Joe held up the gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with pumpkin and white chocolate chip cookies. “We’re ready to rock.”

“Call me when you get there safe,” Mercy fretted, hugging me and then Joe. “And Joseph, sweetheart, you make sure you keep an eye on her. She’s never been to Chicago before, it’s a big city, and O’Hare is an absolute nightmare, it’s so easy to get lost...”

“I don’t think he needs any reminders, love.” Dr. Lee laid a hand on her shoulder, stroked his neatly-trimmed beard with the other, watched us with a vague and wistful smile.

Mercy went back to trimming the flowers she had spread out across the kitchen countertop, white calla lilies that she threaded one by one into a translucent sapphire blue vase. “Now don’t forget to say goodbye to your brother. He’s out back feeding the new ducks. And I expect these ones to stick around for a while, thank you very much.”

“Mom, I don’t need to say goodbye to Rami. I’ll just think it. Really loudly.” Joe rubbed his temples with his fingertips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Peace out, you nosy bastard.”

“Joseph,” Mercy pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go say goodbye. Don’t get all aggressive. Don’t take it out on the flowers.” Aggressive...what a joke. I doubted that Mercy Eleanor Lee, formerly Martin, had a single aggressive bone in her immortal body; not even the infinitesimal stapes of her inner ears or the sesamoids of her feet.

“They’re calla lilies,” she replied dreamily, tending them like children. “And they symbolize love, and beauty, and fidelity...”

My nostrils itched and burned faintly in dissent. “I think I’m allergic to them.”

“You’re allergic to fidelity?” Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s it, now you’re definitely not getting my reclaimed virginity. No ma’am. I am not hit-it-and-quit-it material.”

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” Mercy murmured.

“I’m going,” Joe said, showing his palms in capitulation and disappearing out the back door. I dragged my suitcase to the front one, politely declining Mercy and Gwil’s offers to help.

Lucy—her bleached hair in a high half-ponytail and wearing polka-dotted black tights, combat boots, a plaid miniskirt, and an extremely Octoberish orange sweater—was sitting cross-legged on the roof of Gwil’s Volvo. God, he’s such a dad. “Have a nice time,” she chirped artfully.

I opened the hatch of Joe’s Subaru and threw my suitcase inside. “Why do you sound like you already know I will?”

“I might have some relevant clairvoyant insight.”

“No way.” I stared up at her, stunned, my hands on my waist. “But you can’t see me, right...?”

“True. But this vision wasn’t of you. It was of Joe. You just happened to be there.”

Interesting. Very interesting. “And what transpired in this vision?” A night full of hot, steamy, blissful vampire sex? A girl could dream.

Lucy closed her eyes, recalling it fondly, maybe even cherishing it. “You were sitting in the stands of a professional baseball game. I could hear the crowd roaring, the umpire’s trumpeting interruptions. Blue and white...everyone was wearing blue and white. And you were there together—Joe a vampire, you human, side by side, almost entwined—shouting to each other over the thunderous noise and laughing and pushing nuggets of soft pretzels into each other’s mouths. So happy. I’d never seen Joe so happy.” Her striking pale eyes came open. “And he’s someone who’s already rather prone to happiness, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I have,” I agreed.

“He’s never been serious about anybody else. I hope you know that.”

“I know that’s what he tells me.”

“It’s the truth,” Lucy insisted. “I would know if it wasn’t. Rami would know, Ben would know. Joe...he’s kind of the opposite of you. He’s always been the easiest to read. He’s the one Rami hears most loudly, the one who shows up most often in my visions. He’s clear, you know? Uncomplicated. Authentic. And what you mean to him...it’s something everybody sees. It’s a contagious sort of lightness, of joy. So thank you for that.”

And if whatever mysterious genetic switch that renders me immune to your talents wasn’t flipped, I’m pretty sure I’d look the same way. “I should definitely be thanking you,” I said. “You guys have a pretty cool existence going on here. And I’m so grateful to be invited into it.” For however long this lasts, anyway.

“None of us really invited you,” Lucy demurred. “We just let it happen.”

“So everyone knew I was coming? Because you saw it?”

“Everyone but Joe.”

“You never told him?”

“No. Not even now.” Lucy turned sharply towards the trees, as if she heard something in the soaring western hemlocks that swayed drunkenly in the wind. After a moment, she continued. “I’m not sure if I can even explain why. It wasn’t that I feared changing the timeline or something...my visions always come true regardless. Always. But I guess...” She tugged on her short half-ponytail, pondering. “I guess I didn’t want to cloud any of his decision-making, any of his emotions with the specter of the inevitable. I wanted whatever he felt for you to be completely organic. And it is.”

I considered her. “You are extremely thoughtful for someone who spends as much time shopping as you do.”

Lucy laughed in a high-pitched, almost juvenile trill, netting her fingers beneath her chin, her elbows resting on her bent knees. “I do like to shop. I didn’t always though.” She peered off into the trees again, this time pensively. “Did Joe tell you anything about my life before Gwil saved me?”

“Aside from the copious hippie jokes, not really.”

She nodded, her eyes far-away and still lost in the forest. “Gwil and Mercy are inordinately wonderful people. My biological father and mother, unfortunately, were not. And maybe they couldn’t help it, because from what I understand their parents were monsters too. I don’t think of them very often now, not even to resent them. But when I was alive I burned with it, with all that hatred, with all that bitterness. Every bruise was another log on the fire. Every screaming match or hurled plate was a splash of gasoline. So I ran away and found what I fancied to be a new family, and I lived on basement couches and out of vans and in abandoned buildings, and I explored increasingly inventive ways of putting that fire out.”

The October breeze cascaded through the trees, carrying echoes of birdsong and disembodied distant voices and the scent of pine. It reminded me of Joe.

“Chemically speaking,” Lucy said, “that first hit of heroin, that first high...it’s the best you’ll ever feel in your entire life. Nothing else will ever compare. Not skydiving, not backpacking through Southeast Asia on some Pulitzer-prize-winning journey of self-discovery, not winning the lottery, not the births of your children, not falling in love. And once you accept that, what’s the point in stopping? Everything you ever experience will live in the shadow of that needle. You’re twenty-five and you’ve already seen the endgame. You’re born, you suffer, you catch a glimpse of paradise, you pay bills and push shopping carts down the aisles of grocery stores and insipidly smile your way through your husband’s work parties until you die. What’s the fucking point? So I didn’t stop shooting heroin. And the whole time, I knew it was killing me. That’s what they don’t tell kids when they force them to make those idiotic classroom promises to never do drugs. You know it’s killing you, but you don’t care. Because it feels so goddamn good. Because it becomes the only sliver of your existence that doesn’t cut like glass beneath your skin. Sometimes you love things so much you let them kill you, isn’t that ridiculous?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer her; still, I heard my own voice: “Yes, it is.”

“It took dying for me to see that life is worth living. That there’s magic in the mundane and the frivolous. And that there’s beauty everywhere if you bother to look for it.” Lucy uncrossed her trim legs, leapt gracefully off the Volvo, and—with definite but not unkind scrutiny—pulled at the collar of my thrift shop sweater. “Even in your very, very, very misguided fashion preferences.”

The front door of the Lee house swung open, and Joe jogged out, carrying his suitcase. Gwil, Mercy, Scarlett, Rami, and Ben appeared on the porch to wave us off.

“What’d you do?!” Joe demanded, pointing at Lucy.

“Nothing,” she quipped.

“You guys gotta stop doing this!” Joe exclaimed. “You know what you’re doing, you know exactly what you’re doing, you gotta stop cornering people and forcing them to listen to your creepy tragic backstories! Nobody freaking asked!”

Lucy chuckled patiently and stood on her tiptoes to hug him goodbye. “Have fun.”

“You know it.” Joe tossed his suitcase into the Subaru and opened the driver’s door. “Ready, Baby Swan?”

“Almost.”

I walked to the wrap-around porch, climbed the steps, held my hand out to Ben. My stitches had almost completely dissolved over the past week, and the clunky impediment of bandages was no more. Joe crossed his arms and watched from beside the Subaru with an uneasy frown, but he didn’t try to stop me. He nodded to Rami, so subtly I almost didn’t notice. Rami nodded back.

“I will miss your melodramatic brooding immensely,” I told Ben. “Please do some fun family stuff while we’re gone. I’ll see you soon. Dan eich bendith.”

“Dan eich bendith,” he replied, taken aback. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he ignored my outstretched hand and embraced me, his grasp so strong and yet so careful. His scent like crisp leaves and salted caramel and autumn sieved into a bottle unfolded in my lungs like an opened book.

“I Googled that especially for you,” I whispered. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m in awe.” His words were characteristically sardonic, but I heard warmth in them as well. When Ben pulled away, I saw that everyone else was smiling. Mercy had tears in her eyes.

I retreated back down the porch steps and met Joe by the Subaru. “Okay, mob guy. I’m good.”

He slid on his sunglasses, shook his head, flashed a proud and toothy grin. “You definitely are.”

All the way down Route 101 to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, we listened to Joe’s classic rock mixtapes and my NOAA Ocean Podcast episodes, reviewed the weekend itinerary, ran through the bare essentials for me to understand an MLB game (“Which I am totally not excited about whatsoever,” I informed Joe, who knew enough not to believe me).

When the Boeing 747 ascended above the clouds and unimpeded sunlight poured in from the other passengers’ windows, Joe put on a black sleeping mask over his sunglasses and reclined his seat, tried to nap, passed the time until he would be safe beneath the curtains of the sky again.

Somewhere over the Dakotas, as I leafed through a book about the Great Barrier Reef for my Marine Botany class, Joe’s hand bumped mine. “Hey,” he said drowsily, seriously; and I braced myself for some emotional declaration, some dire warning, some grave realization of the futility of what we agreed—almost always wordlessly, and yet unfailingly—was love.

“Yeah?”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Uh oh,” I replied, smiling now.

“Flag down the flight attendant and get some more of those honey roasted peanut packets,” Joe said. “I’m starving myself back to death over here.”

The Windy City

The bat cracked deafeningly against the baseball pitched at nearly a hundred miles per hour. It was a home run. The crowd erupted into mindless, primal shrieks of conquest; and when Joe jumped to his feet, clapping and cheering and nearly spilling his blue-and-white bucket of popcorn, I found that I did as well. I screamed for the team of a city I’d never lived in, sank back into my seat beside Joe, nestled against his chest as his right arm closed around my waist and hauled me in closer, as his left hand teased me with a soft pretzel nugget hovering just out of reach. And in that moment, I felt like Lucy, snatching Polaroids out of the space-time continuum of the present and the future and the past. There was where Joe and I were right now, of course; the day we had met each other in the nonfiction section of the Calawah University library; the dance floor at Homecoming; the first night he snuck soundlessly into my bedroom window; all those years we still had left to spend together. Not forever, but perhaps long enough.

“I like this baseball thing,” I told him over the roar of the crowd, twirling my fingers around the curling locks of dark hair that stuck out from under his Cubs cap. Or maybe I just like you.

“Whew, thank god.” Joe wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in mock relief. “Now I don’t have to break up with you.”

After the game—a 5-3 Cubs victory, close enough to keep the spectators’ blood pumping throughout—we boarded the L, held onto the metal railings as the packed train car bumped and swerved along, and disembarked in Little Italy. Historic brownstones were interrupted by a freckling of pizzerias, Italian ice stands, and sports bars spilling out shouts of triumph and despair. We were staying in the Four Seasons with a view of Lake Michigan; but we had an hour of daylight—albeit chilled, dreary, and forever threatening rain—left in our Saturday. Tomorrow would be the aquarium, and then dinner before catching our flight back to Seattle, back to the greenery and fog and eternal dampness that I was beginning to think of as my home. Had I really only left Phoenix two months ago? Had I ever really lived there at all?

“So,” Joe said as we walked under shedding green ash and black cherry trees, his arm draped across my shoulders. “Guess what the University of Chicago has. In addition to a killer Economics PhD program, which yours truly will be graduating from in approximately 2027, astonishingly aged not a single day. Maybe he’s born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline.”

“Hideous sweatshirts?” I guessed.

“One of the best Marine Biology departments in the world. And the affiliated Marine Biological Laboratory up in Massachusetts, where they send their PhDs to do research.”

“Wait, seriously?” I stopped abruptly, the heels of my boots squealing against the sidewalk. “You mean...for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, for my other girlfriend who is also inexplicably super obsessed with the ocean. I clearly have a type.”

“You want me...to come to Chicago...with you...after graduation? For like...a five to seven year commitment?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, that just sounds...serious.”

“Huh. What do you know. I guess we’re serious after all.” He took my hand and pulled me gently forward, leading me down West Taylor Street. He seemed to have a destination in mind.

“How is this going to work for you, anyway?” I asked, beaming uncontrollably now, trotting along beside him. “Living in a place that isn’t Washington or Scotland or Alaska?” Chicago was cold and cloudy for a lot of the year, true, but few cities were Forks-level wet and sunless. Forks-level tyrannically depressing, I would have said two months ago.  

He shrugged, unphased. “Night classes. Sunglasses. Faking a chronic illness so I don’t have to leave our house. I’m really good at that one. Plus I can get a doctor’s note any time I want one. I’ve got connections, you know.”

Our house. He said OUR house.

Joe came to halt in front of a stately yet plain brownstone which now operated as a trendy bookstore, the kind that sold six dollar lattes and hosted anarchist poetry slams on Friday nights.

“Is this where we’re going to crack hipsters’ kneecaps as a bonding activity?” I asked.

“This is where I grew up.”

I looked again, studying the earth-colored stone quarried over a century ago, the wrought iron railings that framed the front steps, the rectangular windows revealing the illumination and shadows of other families’ lives. “Joe,” I said softly, leaning into him, searching for my words.

“There were eight Mazzello kids: Joseph, Charles, Mimi, Salvador, Donna, Lucia, Bianca, and Giuliano.” He rattled them off like a jingle from a fast food commercial. “And I was the oldest. So when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of his shift at the Zenith Radio factory, it was my job to step up and figure out how to keep everyone fed. I was seventeen and completely hopeless at school back then; Sal was always the smart one, the disciplined one, he ended up as a math professor at Loyola University. I was just some directionless, grieving kid who never shut up. But there was a place for boys like me in Chicago in the 1920s. The mob could get you money. The mob could turn that same incessant chatter that got you bruised at school into something useful. And the mob could give you a family.”

Joe watched the brownstone solemnly, meditatively, his hands in his pockets.

“My mom sobbed for an hour the first time I brought home an envelope full of bills with Hamilton’s face on them. She knew how I got it. But how could she say no, how could she tell me to stop? We’d never seen money like that. All my siblings could finish school. My sisters could have new dresses on days that weren’t Christmas and Easter, my brothers new shoes, Sal the glasses he needed so badly. My mother always had something to put in the offering plate at church. And once you were in the mob, it wasn’t exactly easy to leave. But they took care of their own. After I died, they sent my mother money for years, until her own children were established enough to support her. That’s when I learned that money wasn’t just something that put food on the dinner table or kept the lights on. It’s a way of showing loyalty, of giving people peace and comfort and meaningful choices in their lives. It’s how I’ve been taught to give back to the world. So I guess I shouldn’t have disparaged my fellow vampires back in Forks, because there’s a slice of my tragic backstory, Baby Swan. Now you know. And you should know everything, since we’re in this thing together. Or maybe I just want you to.”

I laid my palm against his cool and flawless face, ran my thumb lightly across his cheek. “You really are serious about me.”

“I am alarmingly serious about you.”

“Even though this thing of ours has an expiration date?” Since I can never become a vampire. Since I will never have the distinction of being a permanent fixture of the Lee coven.

“That’s not a problem for today. That’s a problem for ten or fifteen years from now, whenever you decide you want to settle down and have kids and do the whole Great American Dream bit. You’ll be sick of me by then anyway. You’ll be dying to get away from us. Hahaha, get it? It’s a pun. Dying to get away from the vampires.”

I couldn’t imagine ever being sick of Joseph Francis Mazzello. Still, ten or fifteen years felt almost as good as forever to me. Fifteen autumns, fifteen Christmases, fifteen journeys around the sun that he avoided so deftly. “Why me, Joe?” I asked, incredulous. “You could have anyone. Any human, any vampire. Why me?”

“Because you’re you,” he said simply. And his mystified dark eyes added: What kind of a question is that? “You’re smart and you’re hilarious and you actually care about the world, about where it came from, about where it’s going, about people and places and animals that you’ll never meet. You’re indomitable. You’re fearless almost to the point of recklessness. And yet you’re so kind. You’re even nice to Ben, and humans are never nice to him...they’re either horrified or confused, or they’re too busy fantasizing about him to remember that he’s a real fucking person. But you’ve always tried to see the good in him. Even when he didn’t deserve it.” Joe shook his head, marveling. “And yeah, I’ve...I’ve screwed around, full disclosure. I’ve done the hookup thing. And it was great for what it was. But I never wanted more. I never felt some gnawing, sentimental, Hallmark-channel need for connection, to understand who they were as people. And then I met you, and...I want to know every single goddamn thing about you. I want to know your favorite color, what books you read, what the hell is so appealing about pineapple pizza, what you dream of. I feel like I could never get tired of trying to understand you.”

A refrain circled through my mind like a whirlpool, dragging every other thought down into oblivion: I love him, I love him, I love him. “Blue,” I said at last.

“What?”

“Turquoise blue, like the sky in Arizona. That’s my favorite color.”

The smile, slow and wonderous, rippled across his face. He took my hand again. “Come on.”

Joe led me onwards, down a few blocks and around a corner, as the muted sun receded from the sky and the first stars took its place, pinpricks of celestial light in a blanket of violet, azure, amber, rust. He stopped in front of the Church of Saint Lawrence, established in 1902 according to the sign mounted on the brick wall that faced the street, perhaps the same church that he had once visited with his family as an impatient child, snickering with his brothers and sisters and kicking the back of the pew in front of him with shoes that never fit quite right. There was a fountain bubbling with transparent water, a statue of the Virgin Mary at the center, coins made of copper and nickel and zinc glinting through the water under corridors of silvery luminance cast by the streetlights.

“I lied about not having my own superpower,” Joe informed me mischievously, not at all serious.

“Oh, did you now?”

“Absolutely.” He opened his wallet, rooted around, pulled out a penny and handed it to me. “I can make wishes come true. So go ahead.” He nodded towards the fountain. “Make your wish.”

The penny was worn and nearly indecipherable, but I was just barely able to read that it had been minted in 1928. The same year Joe was turned. “Joe...I can’t just throw this away!”

“You’re not throwing it away. You’re exchanging it for a wish. Now wish.”

I closed my eyes, chose my wish, tossed the penny into the fountain. The plink it made when it hit the water was bright and yet mournful somehow, like windchimes, like flickering candlelight.

“Outstanding job,” Joe complimented.

He was so visibly proud, so content, so faultless. The streetlights threw shadows across the sidewalk, the fountain, the whole world it seemed. I laced my fingers behind his neck, gazing up at him. “What are we doing tonight, mob guy?”

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, we have options.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“Door Number One,” Joe began. “It’s been a long day, and you’re exhausted from the illustrious honor of witnessing a Cubs victory firsthand. So we go back to the hotel, find some shark documentary on tv, order room service, shower, and drift off into a peaceful slumber. Just like last night.”

“Not bad. How about Door Number Two?”

“Door Number Two. You’re tired, but not that tired. We go back to the hotel, find that same aforementioned shark documentary, but totally ignore it and make out instead. Maybe we even round second base, in the spirit of the Cubs. Whatever you’re up for. Then we shower and drift off into a peaceful slumber.”

“Even better,” I said, and I meant it. “And what’s Door Number Three?”

Now Joe became jittery; his eyes darted to the fountain, the church, the cars that rolled lazily by. He was so desperate to conceal his hope, to not impose any undue influence upon me. I felt infinitesimal, almost weightless drops of rain against my cheeks, my collarbones, the downy undersides of my arms. “Well, uh, Door Number Three is...it’s...well...uh...it’s...”

Door Number Three is a home fucking run. “I want Door Number Three.”

“Really? Because you don’t have to say that, you can say no, that’s completely fine, it’s more than fine actually, it’s awesome, it’s totally cool, I’m seriously fine either way, and you can obviously change your mind whenever—”

“Wait.” I broke away from him, yanked my own wallet out of my purse, found the Official Whatever You Want Pass, hastily unfolded it, and presented it to Joe. “I want Door Number Three.”

He barked out a shocked laugh, accepted the pass, studied it in disbelief. “You are full of surprises, ma’am. It took me a hundred years to find a woman like you. And I don’t think I ever will again. Makes one wonder if this whole eternity thing is all it’s cracked up to be.” He tucked the pass into his pocket and kissed me beneath the streetlights, beneath the stars. “So there’s one tiny caveat to my wish-granting superpower.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled impishly, nudging the tip of my nose with his. “You have to tell me what you wished for.” He was joking, as he almost always was; I didn’t have to tell him anything. He wouldn’t press the issue. I doubted that he was really expecting me to answer at all. And yet I wanted to tell Joe; I yearned, for once, to be as clear as Lucy had said he was.

“For you and me,” I replied in little more than a whisper. “And for forever.”

Home

The only thing that startled me was how profoundly unstartling it all was, how wholly uncomplicated, how effortless.

I didn’t feel like a different person afterwards. I didn’t feel that some latent spark of lust, of carnality had been ignited, had singed through me, had left me forever marked like the heights of children ticked off on a doorframe over decades; I felt neither ruined nor awakened, no wiser, no older, no more enlightened as to the incalculable eccentricities of the vast and enigmatic universe. I felt only happiness, and exhausted satisfaction, and a deep, dreamless peace that engulfed me like frothy fingertips of waves dragging pebbles and shells back into the sea. I felt only a homecoming that was measured not in miles but in soul.

We slept in as the morning sun rose over Lake Michigan, bought Ben a hoodie (black, of course, per his usual aesthetic) from the University of Chicago gift shop, strolled unhurriedly through the dimly-lit, relentlessly blue pathways of the Shedd Aquarium. As I stood in the glass tunnel and watched sawfish and blacktip reef sharks soar by overhead, Joe linked his arms around my waist, tucked his chin into the dip of my collarbone, kissed the slope of my jaw.

“What do you think?” he asked, perhaps a touch apprehensively. “Could you get used to the Chicago life for a few years?”

“I would be tempted to kidnap some of these guys and bring them home to live in our bathtub. But yes.”

And Joe murmured, smiling, his lips to my temple: “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

Our flight back to the West Coast took off after dusk, and there was no blinding sunlight for Joe to avoid; only immense glooms of clouds and gleaming distant stars and the unfathomable void of space, cursed with crushing pressure and darkness like the cervices of the ocean floor.

Fifteen years might not be enough, I thought, resting my forehead against the cold airplane window as the city lights died behind us, as Joe’s hand weaved through mine on the armrest. But forever sounds just about right.

Larkin

There once was a boy born in a stone cottage with a dirt floor in a vanishingly inconsequential village just west of Clifden, Ireland. It was February 9th, 1672, bitterly cold, miserably wet, and the sea was murderous with storms. His mother was illiterate, as her mother had been, and as her mother had been as well, all the way back to people who painted mammoths on cave walls with their fingers; she was thirty-three and already exhausted with living, her seven children forever underfoot, her full and ruddy cheeks perpetually smudged with dirt from the field and ashes from the fire. Her husband was a failure and a drunk, but half a day’s worth of work once or twice a week was better than none at all; and as much as she never would have admitted it, he was a tether for her in a world that was often, as she had learned, both lonely and cruel.

She gave the baby boy a name—a strong Irish name, none of that audacious English rubbish—that meant rough or fierce, just like the sea that rose and ruptured against the rocky cliffs outside. He would need to be rough to survive in this world. He would need to be fierce.

He began like all the other children had been: sweet and yet anonymous, yielding, needful, worryingly small. She rocked him absently with one arm as she stirred the stew pot with the other. She sang to him, told him stories long before he could comprehend them, tales of the Lord and the saints and all their malevolent adversaries: serpents, pestilence, demons, dragons. She tossed stray sticks to him so he could carve pictures into the dirt floor and keep out of the way as she labored with the laundry or the sewing. And he grew, and he grew; and there was nothing remarkable about him at all, that boy speckled with mud and soot and the perpetual bruises of children mostly left to their own devices, that boy with pallid skin like his mother’s and black hair like his father’s and eyes so light and vibrant a brown they were nearly gold.

The boy was a baby, and then a child, and then a young man. And his mother realized one day—all at once, as a mother does when their attention is divided among so many other lives, when the children’s analogous faces bleed into each other and even their names sometimes escape her, even those names that she had chosen herself from the stories her own mother once passed to her through threadbare whispers—that people had a habit of following him, of listening to him. That there was an ether of allure that hovered around him like the mists that clung to the precarious, crumbling cliffs that touched the sea; that there was something like what the heathens called magic. And when the war came, that boy who was no longer a boy left his mother’s stone cottage and enlisted in Clifden, lied about his age, signed his name with an X because that was all he knew how to spell. But he was sure to tell the man who handled the ledger that he did have a real name, a good Irish name, a name apt for a soldier, a name that his mother had told him meant rough or fierce: Larkin.

There are men who join wars out of loyalty, principle, love for their homes; and then there are men who join to escape their homes, perhaps to forget them entirely. If you were to consult that ledger signed in a pub in Clifden, Ireland in 1688, you would read that I fought for Ireland, for the Catholics, for Christ the Lord and all his saints. But what I really fought for was my own resurrection: to take that boy stained with dirt and ignorance, drown him in the blood of other mothers’ trivial sons, and dredge up some greater version of myself that I had always known existed, that was hidden somewhere in the netlike darkness of the marrow of my bones.

People follow me, and they always have. I couldn’t tell you why. When I called them to enlist, when I thrusted swords and pikes into their calloused farmers’ fists, when I told them they could fight and live to see their wretched homes again, they believed me. I climbed the ranks like a ladder, like a mountain made of bones. And all those other mothers’ sons laid down for me so I could walk across the bridge of their spines to what I mistakenly assumed was invincibility.

At the Battle Of The Boyne, my horse was shot out from under me. A Williamite caught me beneath the ribs with his dagger. And as I bled out, staring up at the sky and impatiently waiting for the pain to vanish as my consciousness withdrew like low tide, I became aware that someone was lifting me, holding me, spiriting me through the battlefield and then the wilderness; and that my pain, in a disconcerting turn of events, had swelled to a vicious and unrelenting inferno.  

Three days later, I woke to find that I was resurrected again, this time as something more than human. The man who turned me was blond-haired, light-eyed, agile and yet gentle, ancient and yet ever-changing.

“I thought you’d survive,” Nikolai said in a thick Slavic accent, standing over me with a kind smile. Then he helped me to my feet. “You have greatness in you. It sweats out of your pores, it’s in every word you speak. What a shame it would be for all of that to go to waste.”

He taught me everything: how to read and write, how to hunt, how to dodge the sunlight, how to survive an existence that was both theoretically endless and yet forever on the precipice of being cut short. He introduced me to the Draghi, to vampires who were remarkable for their ferocity, or their creativity, or their curiosity, or their cleverness, or all those things at once: Victorien, Honora, Elizabeth, Kestrel, Zhang, Sergei, Ana, Gwilym. And most crucially, Nikolai showed me that my human talents were magnified several times over, that his own followers were not immune to them, that there was power in collecting exceptional individuals like pieces of china stacked in a locked cabinet; and that if I could learn to climb immortal bones, the ladder never needed to end.  

You never quite get used to the power, to the invincibility, to the promise of eternity. You never take it for granted. It hits you, again and again, in ceaseless and victorious waves. Once I was a barefoot toddler who sketched dragons and Catholic saints from the stories my mother told me into the dirt floor of our drafty stone cottage. Now I live in palaces with marble floors, with spiral staircases and libraries and gold-dripping ballrooms, with unobstructed views of any sea I choose. Now I am the dragon.

My phone rang, and I checked the name on the screen. Then I answered. “Hello, beauty. How’s the other side of the Pacific treating you?”

And Liesl answered, in a soft and astonished voice: “I don’t think Lucy can read her. I don’t think any of them can.”

I could feel it again. Another wave, crashing through me like the ocean, like the unstoppable rolling of time: power and insatiability and exhilaration. I smiled in my twilight-lit study as long-dead stars rose outside and the wind howled like wolves over the East Sea. “You know what to do.”

[nightrosebud]

stricklake, f - for the soulmate prompts, please

f...irst words/thoughts your soulmate says/thinks when seeing you are written on your skin.

Yeeeahhh, so this kind of got away from me... Sorry?

The mark shows up on Barbara's skin when she's 23. And it may not have been why James leaves, but she is sure it is the final nail in the coffin.

"'I'm sorry to disturb you, Dr. Lake.'" James spat at her one evening. "Great, just great. You're telling me that I'm not your soulmate?"

Barbara rubs her forehead, suddenly so tired. Tired of the fights, of the long arguments, tired of coming home to a messy house, tired of the only one playing with Jim, tired of James being gone all hours of the night, never telling her where he is or who he is with. "I already told you, the mark is so generic, I won't be able to tell who is my soulmate is."

"But you will be able to tell. Because you will be a doctor and some smooth asshole with a degree will use that phrase, and then you will fall head over heels for him, and that will be it, you will leave me. I hear that it happens all the time. Happened to my friend Kevin. His girl got a mark that wasn't in their first conversation together, and bam! She left him!"

Barbara felt the anger rising in her throat, and she says the next part with a wave of cold fury that she never recalls feeling: "Then leave."

"Wha-what?" he sputtered.

"Leave James. Just leave. Because you will use the mark as an excuse to say I shouldn't finish my studies. That I shouldn't become a doctor, like you have been saying since we got married. It doesn't matter that my soulmate might never show up. That happens all the time, too, you know. Do you think I won't be faithful because of this thing? Fine. Then leave."

And he is standing there, a look of rage on his face. But he suddenly starts packing a suitcase of his clothes. And he storms out. And there will be tears. There will be days that Barbara regrets her words. Days that she has to explain to her son that his father is not coming back to finish the bike. Days she worries that her son is growing up too fast to take care of her when she should be taking care of him, dammit. But at that moment, she feels relief. And hope. 

Maybe her soulmate will show up after all.

-----

"Sorry to disturb you, Doc," says the nurse. "Can you check on the guy in room four? He's asking for a doctor."

Barbara smiles, feeling a little disappointed. The phrase is not quite right. And she knows that she has talked to this nurse before. But she can't help it. Whenever someone says something remotely close to her mark, she gets butterflies in her stomach, and she has to wonder: Are they the one?

She has also had some people ask her out. But she just smiles and declines. Because they didn't say anything close to the mark when they first met. And some of them get upset when she explains why. Some are gracious about it. Still, others wiggle their eyebrows and ask if she wants to have some fun. She still declines. 

"Sure, let me see what I can do," she says with a smile.

-----

"Hey, mom?"

"Yes?"

"Do you, you know, have a mark?"

Barbara blinks. Funny, she has already had the sex talk with Jim. That was surprisingly easy. But she never told her son about the soulmate mark. It's rare. And she doesn't know how to explain to him that the mark on her skin is not the first conversation she had with his father.

She hesitates, but finally, she moves the shirt on her shoulder down until Jim can see the mark, like a small tattoo, on her shoulder blade. She has never seen it herself, only in the mirror.

"'I'm sorry to disturb you, Dr. Lake,'" he reads. "Huh. That's kinda..."

"Vague?" she jokes. "Yeah, it often is. If you're lucky, you get something like 'Hi, my name is John.' Otherwise, you get something that is impossible to say if you have met your soulmate or not."

"Let me guess, that wasn't the first thing Dad said to you," Jim says bitterly.

"No, it was not," she confessed. "And I didn't get the mark until I was older. It can show up later in your life if you're unlucky. Your father... wasn't happy about it."

Jim looks grim as she moves her shirt back up. He suddenly moves the sleeve of his shirt so that she can see his forearm. There is a smudge there like he has been writing on his arm. But she knows that isn't the case. If they sent hours scrubbing his skin, that stain would never go away. "I don't know what to do with this," he says.

"Gaurd it. Hide it. Some people would use it to take advantage of you. Try to make you think they are the one. Of course, they have to have the matching mark." She got up, collecting dishes from dinner (something Jim saw prepared on TV, something in French she can't pronounce, and it's so good), and she heads to the kitchen. "Of course, you may never find them. Your soulmate. Which makes no sense because if you have the mark, then that means you should have that first conversation with them." Barbara paused while putting the dishes in the sink. "But that is the way it is. You meet someone, and they say the phrase, and they are the one for you. Or so they say."

Jim looks over his shoulder, so she can see his profile but not read the look on his face. "So you got the mark after you and Dad met?" he asked. "Doesn't that make you... I don't know, mad? Like you wasted some of your time on the wrong person."

"No," she said. "I don't regret marrying your father. I wouldn't have had you. I just regret that he wasn't here for you growing up. I think the mark hurt his pride. I sometimes wonder if I should have hidden it from him." She stopped. She had always tried to keep her opinions about James to herself, especially the bad ones. But Jim just nodded and then got up to join her in the kitchen.

"Well, I hope the mark doesn't turn out to be my first conversation with someone like, I don't know, Steve Palchuck. I can't see him as my soulmate."

Barbara laughed, feeling some relief in coming clean with her son. She picked up a plate to wash it. "Well, let's hope it's not the school bully at the very least."

-----

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Dr. Lake," says the man on her doorstep. "I know it's terribly late."

For a split second Barbara stares at the stranger, feeling those butterflies in her stomach. He said it, she thinks, he said the phrase. Exactly as it is on my skin. But she shakes herself out of her shock a second later. She knows this man. 

And she is having a flashback to a few months ago at the open house at Jim's school. She had been running late, so she didn't get introduced to Jim's History teacher, a man with black hair greying at the temples and tailored clothes. Jim talked about Mr. Strickler at length, though, telling Barbara everything that happened in history class with an air of barely contained excitement. So at least she knows him in a way.

"No worries, Mr. Strickler," she responds, hoping to see a spark of recognition on his face. If he is the one, he should have a matching mark on his shoulder. And she should have said the matching words. But his face doesn't change, and Barbara feels her stomach drop. Another false alarm. "Please come in. Anything wrong with Jim?"

"Oh, I don't think so," he drawls, stepping inside. His eyes slide over the furniture, his face staying neutral. "I just wanted to congratulate Jim on getting the part of Romeo in the school play."

"He did? Wait, he tried out for the school play? He didn't say anything to me."

"Hmmm," Mr. Strickler hummed. "Yes, I'm worried he may be spreading himself too thin. Can we discuss this further?"

Only if you let me take your clothes off, so I can see your shoulder. "Of course. I'll make some tea."

-----

Nomura stalked into the museum, hissing at the goblins as she limped. The human Trollhunter was proving to be harder to kill than they initially thought. With Draal at his house, Nomura's plan to kill him in an "accident" was futile. She and Strickler would have to come up with a better idea.

Strickler stood in the middle of the large space that used to hold Killahead Bridge in his troll form. Once they were sure the Trollhunter wouldn't bring any trolls to look for it, they would get the bridge back from the warehouse they hid it in. "You failed," he growled, and she paused. Why was he in troll form? To kill her?

"He won't always have Draal with him," she said, trying not to pout. "I will get him next time.

"You think I'll let you have a 'next time?'" he hissed and started to stalk off. He pushed past her and she glared at his back. But suddenly she grabbed him and squinted at his shoulder blade, moving his cape to get a better look. "What are you doing?" he asked with a growl.

"How long have you had this mark?" she asked. "It's in Trollish. It says 'No worries, Mr. Strickler.'"

"What are you talking abo—" but his angry words cut off as his eyes grew in shock. 

She leered at him, sensing that she found some sore spot to exploit. "It's a soulmate mark, isn't it? Tell me, Strickler, which love-struck teen have you got wrapped around your finger, hm?"

Strickler didn't respond, but his look of disbelief just turned into distress. He transformed, hiding the mark with his human clothes. "Forget it," he tried to order her, but his voice didn't have any venom to it. "It doesn't matter. It would be sleeping with the enemy. Completely impossible." He checked his jacket and straightened the lapels. "Just... nevermind." And he stalked out into the night.

Nomura blinked. Well, that was surprising. She didn't know why Strickler was so upset. Soulmate marks were complete bushigal. Look at her. 

Her soulmate mark with Draal had been a lie. 

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 38)

A faint, warm breeze caresses Mila’s face as she and Juri walk along the quiet street, running alongside the newly built wall. A few of the Alexandrian men are working on the final piece, funnily enough nearby the church that caused it to break. It’s been two months since the wall collapsed now, or at least that’s what she thinks. Mila looks at the new construction as she and Juri passes, feeling a sense of calm throughout her soul as her eyes sweep over the repaired structure that has also been expanded; a part of Deanna’s original plan for the community. On the piece of the wall that stood by the invasion, next to the small graveyard, someone has written the name of those who have perished; loved ones, friends, family and those who became family after the outbreak. It’s a nice memorial site, a quiet corner of the community. Since that day, when the walkers poured into Alexandria, everything has gone back to a somewhat normal state.  

It’s a hot mid-summer’s day, the sky is blue and the clouds look extra fluffy. Juri points towards them and gestures as if he squeezed an invisible marshmallow between his soft little fingers.

“Yeah they look tasty.” Mila smiles and squints up towards the floating clouds cruising by without a hurry. “What about-” Softly, she pinches Juri’s button nose. “I try to find us some yummy marshmallows for a barbecue when I get back, huh?”

With glittering eyes Juri nods and hugs her tightly; obviously he is positive about the idea.

“Then it’s a date.” Mila chuckles and hugs Juri back, before putting him down on the ground. “Ufh, you are getting heavy. Soon I won’t be able to carry you around.”

With a proud, sunny face Juri stretches, he’s certainly not a little guy anymore; in Mila’s eyes, paradoxically, he’s still her little baby, while she’s also well aware that he’s turning four in a few months. Where the heck did the years between infancy and two go? With a smile, she thinks of Maggie and what adventure awaits her and Glenn in the years to come. At least they have each other, a small consolation when the world is constantly on the brink of doom. 

“Since you’re a big boy now, you’re going to teach Maggie’s baby a lot of important things. Like Carl does with you and Judith.” Mila says and takes Juri’s hand. “You think you can do that?”

Juri nods, with eyes that take the task very seriously. He adores Carl like an older brother and being addressed as a big boy, doing ‘Carl-stuff’, is everything he’s ever wanted. Juri gestures with his free hand and makes a finger walk in the air; of course he will teach the new baby to walk. But when he lets go of Mila’s hand, to show that he’s going to teach the baby to tie its shoes, Mila raises her left eyebrow.

“Well, I think we have to practice that one a little bit, Malysh.” Mila says.

Stubbornly, Juri signals that he’s already trying to learn, or rather states, very stubborn, that Daryl should teach him. He’s done it before, Juri gestures with a triumphant grin.

“Really?” Mila smiles. “Sure, I bet he’s good at it. What’s left for me then? I’m just gonna sit by and watch?”

By putting his hands together in front of him and pointing his index fingers straight ahead, Juri gestures a finger-gun. He narrows one eye and pretends to aim and fire. He points at her with a smile, clarifies that she’s best at shooting, therefore she should teach him. 

“Spasibo, malysh.” She winks at Juri. “Not quite yet, though. But I promise you, I will.”

Further down the street, both of them catch sight of Daryl and Denise. They part, Denise walks away from them and Daryl turns and starts to walk in their direction. Mila waves at him and Juri starts to run as fast as his short legs possibly can towards their favorite archer. Despite his packing, a backpack and the crossbow, Daryl receives Juri when he reaches him; he lifts him up in the air on straight, strong arms, making Juri’s blonde hair dance around his angelic face. The silent laugh that spreads on his face makes Mila’s heart swell with joy. She had never thought that the surly archer would melt completely because of a, certainly charming, mute toddler; her little ray of sunshine. He even smiles as he lifts Juri into the air. Surely a sight for sore eyes, she thinks as they meet in the middle of the street.

“Ya’ ready?” Daryl greets her as he puts Juri down. “We’re heading out now.”

“All done.” She replies, notices a piece of paper in Daryl’s hand. A shopping list? “That’s a nice little list you got there.” Mila peeks over the edge of the slightly crinkly paper, that looks like it’s been passed around the entire community. “Food, gas, some medicine, more medicine… another medicine-” She frowns her eyebrows. “Orange soda?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Denise wanted to surprise Tara.”

“That’s nice.” Mila nods.

It was decided last night that Tara and Heath would go on a longer supply run. Daryl was asked to follow, but declined. Mila suspected that it was because of her; she’s been a bit under the weather the last couple of days; she’s been tired and just a bit feeble, felt nauseated. Carol was sure it was just her female hormones acting out, which could very well be a possibility. Tracking a period during the apocalypse wasn’t high on her ‘to do’-list, so she brushed it off. Daryl didn’t say anything about the reason for his decision, but Mila guessed that he didn’t feel like leaving her behind, even though she’s neither sick or… well, anything really. Just a bit tired. Instead, it was decided that Daryl and Rick would go on a supply run. Mila offered to come along; Daryl couldn’t possibly stop her from following, so it was settled that she’d tag along. 

They walk to the dusty Chrysler sedan together. Rick’s already in place, assuring that his gun is loaded and attached properly to his belt when they arrive.

“Mornin’.” He greets them with a nod; Once a cop, always a cop. The only thing missing is the wide-brimmed hat. “Ready to go?”

Both of them nod and Daryl hands Rick the list of supplies.

“Ya’ see anything you miss?” He asks.

Rick glances through the list quickly.

“We’re outta’ toothpaste.” He states and lifts his eyes to them, waving the note between his fingers. “Keep an eye open for spearmint and baking soda. Michonne’s orders.”

“Got it.” Mila turns to Juri and squats in front of him. “Okay, be nice to Carol and the others, don’t run away.”

With a serious look, Juri reminds her of the promise of marshmallows.

“I’ll remember.” Mila promises and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “There, davay.” She gets up from the ground as Juri turns and runs over to the porch, climbs the stairs and gets into the house to find Carol. 

They get in the car, Rick and Daryl in the front seat and Mila in the back seat. She puts her handgun and backpack in the seat next to her and Rick rolls over to the gates, where Eugene’s about to push it open for them. On the other side, pierced on a couple of rebar attached to a broken car, a couple of walkers are trying their best to reach for them with their worn, boney arms, all in vain. 

Eugene strutts over to the passenger seat of the car and leans into the open window. The mullet looks more solid than ever as he hands Daryl another note. “I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area.” He says in the heavy Texan accent Mila finds incredibly fascinating. “Even if they’ve been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched. Now, that there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky.”  

No one says anything. Mila rests her elbows on the backs of the driver’s and passenger seats and leans in so her head sticks out in between the two men in the front. 

”I'm talking standability-” Eugene continues. “Drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns.” He pauses. “Think about it.”

”Gosh I could listen to him forever.” Mila says and looks at Rick. “Hunky-dunky.” She repeats in an as good as it gets Texan accent, while meeting Eugene’s eyes.

“All right.”

The car drives out through the gate, Rick accelerates and they leave Alexandria behind. 

“I’m having a good feeling ‘bout today.” Rick says cheerful.

“Really?” Mila replies.

“Just-” Rick shrugs. “You know- You just feel it. Today’s the day. We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta catch up.”

“We ain’t seen nobody for weeks.” Daryl notes. “Maybe we ain’t gonna find nobody.”

“That’s sunny.” Mila says, strokes his bare arm with her fingertips. “Let’s cheer this bad boy up, sheriff.”

Rick grins and pushes ‘play’ on the stereo. The music starts faintly and Mila recognizes the band as Social Distortion. 

”Oh I like this one!” Mila exclaims and starts to sing along.  

”Thought ya’ only liked country?” Rick looks at her in the rearview mirror. 

”Nuh.” Mila shakes her head. ”I’m full of surprises. Fun fact, I went to a bunch of cool concerts back in Jersey. These guys, Bruce Springsteen, Neil Young, Rise Against, Pearl Jam- Lots of rock, punk, country-” Mila continues to sing along when the chorus starts. ”I made out with the Social Distortion singer, Mike Ness, after a concert. Or at least I think it was him.”

”Think?” Daryl sputters and turns to look at her. 

”I was eighteen!” Mila shrugs easily. “And drunk beyond judgement.” She confesses. ”He was- old, kinda’ handsome. Smelled quite nice, except the sweat. When I think about it, it could just as well be any middle aged guy with tattoos and tons of hair wax working backstage. I will never know for sure. But I’d like to believe it was the singer. Makes the story more interesting.”

Rick laughs.

“Concerts are wild.” He agrees while tapping the steering wheel. “I took Lori to see Tim McGraw once, before Carl was born. Cheap fried hot wings, beer in red plastic cups, great music; great night.”

“Is he the-” Mila starts to hum while drumming on the thighs. “Hu-huuu- I like it, I love it-”

“-I want some more of it-” Rick tunes in and snaps his finger to her beat. “I try so hard, I can't rise above it. I don't know what it is 'bout that little gal's lovin’-”

“Christ sake-” Daryl sighs and slides further down the passenger seat. 

“Here-” Rick hands Mila the worn plastic case of cd’s from the door pocket. “Find something good.”

“Yes, captain.” Mila unzips the case and starts to flip the plastic pages, filled with scratched cd’s, before finding something that looks promising. “Here-” 

“Please, don’t-” Daryl pleads. 

Too late. She leans into the front seat and pushes the cd into the radio.

“Crank it up!” 

Rick turns the volume wheel up to fourteen and both he and Mila happily exclaims “yeeeah” when the intro to “Life is a highway” blasts out of the cheap stereo. 

“Ya’ both crazy!” Daryl cries, in an attempt to drown out the radio. 

“Draws ‘em away from home!” Rick calls before tuning into the catchy chorus with Mila.

Rick knows the lyrics even better than she does; she still stumbles on the fast lines combined with her not pitch perfect english.

After driving for awhile, while continuing their exceptional singalong, Daryl manages to override the music:

”Look-” Daryl points out of the window and Rick hits the brakes in a matter of seconds. ”Back up.”

While Mila stretches forward and turns down the volume, Rick puts in reverse gear and drives the car back to the intersection. About a hundred meter to their right lies a couple of buildings. A silo, a shed and a barn, with ’sorghum’ written all over the dirty white roof. Rick turns the wheel, hits the gas and drives in the direction of the barn. He drives up on the dirt road and parks in front of the red building. It looks untouched, as if no one else knew about the great power of the sorghum. They step out of the car and look around. It’s quiet, no walkers.

“Let’s check it out.” Rick looks around the corner.

”Best to be safe.” Daryl says and walks over to the storage roll up door. He checks the handle, nods as to tell that it’s unlocked. ”Ya’ cover?” He looks up at her and Rick. 

”Yup.” Rick returns, hand on his gun. 

While the two men get ready for combat, Mila throws a glance out over the fields surrounding the barn; keeping an eye open for potential enemies. The door goes up with a loud noise and Rick bursts into the barn. Mila’s eyes land on the back of a truck. 

“No sorghum?” Mila says.

”Doesn’t look like it.” Rick turns to her and Daryl. “We’re good.” He states and points at the truck. ”One more time?” 

”It ain’t locked.” Daryl puts his hand on the handle and thugs at the box truck roll up door that rolls up with a rattle. 

”Wohaa!” Mila exclaims. 

The truck is filled with supplies; food, blankets, towels, everything really. It must be their lucky day.

”How ’bout that?” Daryl says. “Looks like we’re done for today.”

”Let’s get this thing going, grab our gear and come back for the car later. Take another way back and see what we can see.” Rick states. “We still need to find more things.”

”I’ll go start it up-” Mila says. ”If it starts.”

”I think it does.” 

”Also one of your optimistic predictions?” She smirks at Rick, turns and walks over to the drivers side and opens the door. ”Hah, they where dumb enough to leave the keys.”

Daryl unloads the most necessary things from the car, Rick locks it with a ‘beep’ on the key and  they get inside the truck; Mila makes herself comfortable between her two companions and they backs out of the barn and hits the road. They head in the direction Rick drove before Daryl asked him to stop. The road is lined by green, lush forest. The sun has settled behind some clouds, but it’s still warm, a sticky moist heat that doesn’t really make Mila’s tiredness any better. She’s already drinked a whole bottle of water by herself and starts to feel her jeans push at her bladder. In the distance, she sees what looks like a very run-down gas station. 

“Should we check it out?” Daryl looks at Rick, who nods. “Might be some gas left.”

“Let’s find out.” 

Rick parks at the first pump and they get out of the truck. The gas station is a mess; debris everywhere, an abandoned jeep is parked outside and the black color of the roof has begun to flake and exposes the gray metal underneath. The store looks equally miserable. She strolls up to the doors and peeks through the dirty glass, but sees nothing else than darkness. On her right Daryl’s checking out a tipped-over vending machine, filled with soda and candy. Someone must’ve given up halfway through their attempt to move it, Mila thinks.

“Give me a hand with this.” Daryl says.

Rick, looking around the desolated place, turns on the spot and walks over to help. Besides her urge to pee, Mila’s struck by a slight sensation through her head, like nausea, just as she has been doing on and off the last two days. Heck, not now. 

“I just gotta- you know.” She makes a whistling sound, to signal that she needs to find a toilet, or just walk behind the corner of the gas station to pee, or vomit - right now she cannot decide which of them she needs the most.

“We’ll get this.” Daryl nods towards the vending machine.

Mila turns and walks towards the door of the gas station. She thugs at it, then pushes it open with force. It’s barricaded with a shelf and she creates a passage wide enough for her to get through  and walks inside the dark store, gun raised in front of her. She lets her gaze get used to the dark, then sweeps over the empty, chaotic store before she walks towards the back of it, towards the door with ‘staff only’, hanging on just one hinge. The back of the shop, a room that looks like something between an office and a storage, with walls clad in brown wooden panels, is also empty. She quickly finds the ‘staff only’-toilet that doesn’t look far too disgusting to sit down on. She closes the door halfway, to prevent herself from being in total darkness. While unzipping her jeans she curses herself for not bringing a flashlight. As she sits down, she promises herself to wash her whole body with steel wool as soon as they are back in Alexandria; the toilet stinks of urine and It must be a pure bacteria party in the small space. She closes her eyes, feels how the nausea calms down a bit, focuses to breath through her mouth to close out the acrid smell. She takes another breath and feels her bladder relax, happy to release the huge amount of water she drank. 

Despite the disgusting toilet, it feels better to go to the toilet inside than outside. Mila reluctantly remembers the time she had to pee in the woods, and a walker snuck up behind her. With her trousers around her ankles, Mila had to ward off the armless, dead man. It wasn’t her proudest moment for sure. 

Loud voices and thumps make her wake up from her thoughts. Mila almost falls on her nose getting up from the toilet seat with her jeans around her ankles. Swearing over the fact that she might have to repeat her unworthy pants incident, she makes her way out from the bathroom, thuggin’ on her panties and jeans to get them over her ass, to see what’s going on outside. Is there an ambush? She loses balance, while trying to zip her pants, when she makes her way out in between the gap in the door and drops to the pavement. While brushing her hair out of her face, Mila catches sight of Daryl and Rick standing out in the street. The truck is gone. 

“What the heck?!” She cries and gets up from the ground, fiddling with the zipper. “Where’s the truck?”

“Gone.” Rick hollers back at her. 

Mila lets go of the zipper again -whatever if she shows off her undies at this point- and holds out her arms, to show that she noticed that very well on her own. 

“I was gone for like, five minutes, and now you lost the truck?”

“He took it-” Rick continues. 

“He who?” 

“Some goddamn’ hippie.” Daryl scoffs angrily. “Crashed into Rick and then drove off with the truck, swiped the keys.”

“Wha- just like that?” Mila says, more confused than ever. What the hell happened?

“We talked to him.” 

“Okay… and?”

“Told us his name- called himself Jesus.”

“Yeah I’m sure that’s his name.” Mila laughs dryly; right, Jesus Christ would surely show up in the middle of nowhere and steal a truck filled with toothpaste, food and other supplies. “Jesus don’t steal trucks.” She says. “Jesus isn’t even real! And how on earth did he overpower both of you?” 

The two men in front of her transform into two ashamed puppies, that’s been caught peeing on the carpet, in the matter of seconds. Mila suspects that they weren’t overpowered but tricked; muscles and guns are no use for cunning, and she knows a lot about the latter.  

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Mila sighs, squats and ties her boots with an extra secure double knot. “Lets go.” 

“What?” Daryl looks at her. 

“We gotta follow the truck.” She replies and thanks her lucky star for not having eaten anything heavy earlier this morning. “I won’t let someone who believes himself to be Jesus just steal our truck. I went to church back in Russia when I was a child; stealing is a sin, which makes this Jesus a hypocrite. Come on.”

Mila starts to run. Had she known she would have to chase after a truck, she would have taken a pair of running shoes. They pass the vending machine after a few hundred meters, discarded in the middle of the road. Mila brakes and takes a deep breath, wiping sweat from her forehead. The sticky heat is killing her and the three of them drip with sweat. Rick’s shirt is several shades darker and Daryl looks almost freshly showered. Next to her, Rick doubles down and rests his hands on his knees, still hugging the gun.

“How far do you think he’d come?” She pants.  

“Dunno.” Daryl takes a crowbar from his backpack, shatters the display case of the vending machine and starts to stuff orange sodas and some snacks into his bag. He reaches Mila a can. “Here, drink.”  

She smiles, as to say ‘thank you’ and opens the can. The soda is somewhere between lukewarm and warm, but it’s better than nothing. She finishes the can quickly and wipes her mouth on the back of her arm.  

“Isn’t this the soda Denise wanted?” She asks.

“Uhu.” Daryl nods. “Special request.” 

He takes one of the cans, punctures a hole in its side and pours the lukewarm orange drink into his mouth. Very classy.

“Hey, whatever she wants. She saved Carl's life.” Rick replies and receives the can from Daryl. “If there's still people out here, and they're still people, we should bring 'em in.” 

“Still feelin’ positive, huh?” Daryl asks his friend. “Takin’ em in? Like this guy, stealing our truck?”

“No, not this guy.” 

Daryl turns and looks at her, the gaze wanders from top to bottom.

“Ya’ good to go?” The look is caring, protective. As if he was trying to say 'sorry ‘bout the bumpy ride'. 

Mila nods, feels a drop of sweat run down her lip, into her mouth. 

“Let’s get this over with.” She replies and collects her long, sweaty hair on the back of her head, ties it up with a hair tie. “I’ve ran marathons, remember.”

They set off again at a slightly faster pace, strengthened by the soda. Mila breathes calmly as she sprints over the concrete, counts her breaths as she used to do when she was an avid runner and used to go out for a long run for fun. The circumstances are a bit different from back then; no running shoes or comfortable running clothes in bright colors, no iPod filled with upbeat music and no fitness clock tracking her pulse and her route. The boots are actually horrible to run in, the same goes for jeans, t-shirt and denim shirt, plus a backpack and weapons. 

They follow the tire tracks until they reach a crest, where Daryl signals for them to stop. Carefully they ascend the hill until they can peek over the edge. In the hill down on the other side they see the truck, standing still. It has a puncture and Mila immediately sees a long-haired man with a beard, dressed in a long coat and a beanie, which in itself is pure madness. She’s dripping with sweat and would never in her life put on a long coat or hat now. 

“That’s him?” She asks faintly. 

“That’s him.” Rick nods at them to follow him into the woods to the left. 

They carefully make their way over the fallen leaves between the trees, without losing sight of the truck. The man walks around to the back of the car and they see their chance. They quickly get out of the woods, Rick takes the lead and throws himself forward, wraps his arms around the man from behind.

“Hold still and maybe we won’t hurt you.”

If Rick thought it would help, he was completely wrong. The man sends off an elbow into Rick’s stomach and is suddenly free again. He makes a move, kicks Rick in the guts and gets him down on the ground. It's obvious that the guy is a bit sharper than the rest of the knives in the drawer; Mila climbs out of the ditch just as the man is about to set off towards the driver’s door, but is stopped by Daryl. While the men fight with each other, Mila manages to get up on the road just as the bearded man slips out of Daryl’s arms, pushes him into the side of the truck, turns around and loses track completely at the sight of Mila, who -tired of running and still a little nauseous- has pulled out her gun and aims it at him.

“Surprise!”

The brief moment is enough for Daryl to get back on his feet. He sees his chance when the man turns and notices Mila and tackles him from behind, down into the ditch. At gunpoint, they finally have the upper hand.

“Thanks.” Daryl pants and looks at Mila.

“The power of surprise.” She shrugs and looks down at the man. 

He’s about thirty, long brown hair, beard. Yes, she sees the resemblance to Jesus; every time she sat in church and counted the icons portraying him when she was little. The serious man with sloping shoulders, blue dress, beard and well-groomed hair. The difference is that the Jesus in the icons didn’t have a knitted beanie and a leather coat.

The foliage behind the man in the grass rustles. A walker then announces its presence, by a guttural hissing sound.

“Do you even have any ammo?” Jesus looks at them.

Without answering, Mila raises her gun at the walker and shoots.  

“Okay.” Jesus nods, still with his hands raised in front of him. “You gonna shoot me over a truck?”

“There's a lot of food on that truck.” Rick says. “The keys - now.”

“I think you know I'm not a bad guy.” 

Once again, Mila suddenly feels that unpleasant, nauseating feeling, but this time it spreads from her head down to her stomach. She turns around, hurries away a few meters, bends forward and vomits into the ditch. ‘Is she okay?’ she hears Jesus' question, while she spits and feels how she shivers all over her body; fuck, she hates to vomit. But it actually feels better.

“Ey-” She hears Daryl scoff at the poor guy. “Eyes here, dude! The keys!”

“I’m fine.” Mila hollers and waves her arm at them, still folded like a pocket knife.

“You sure?” Jesus calls back.

“Oh shut up!” She shouts. “It’s because of you I’m throwing up.”

“Sorry.”

“Just-” Mila straightens her back. She feels less nauseated, a bit weak but otherwise much better. “Give us the keys.”

For some reason, Mila can’t figure out why, Jesus throws her the keys. It might be out of pity, or the fact that her two comrades are holding him at gunpoint; she nods at him, as a way to say thanks.

While Rick ties Jesus up, Daryl hurries over to her.

“Ya’ okay?” His eyes are worried. “Ya’ sick?”

“No I’m fine.” Mila nods averted. “Probably just too much running and too little breakfast. I’m good now.” She smiles. “Just, don’t kiss me until we’re back and I’ve brushed my teeths, okay?”

He doesn’t look completely convinced, but he grunts a little, caresses her cheek and places a kiss on her forehead instead.

“There’s toothpaste in the back of the truck.” He says, before returning to Rick and Jesus.

Mila gets into the truck, sits down in the middle seat and closes her eyes; maybe she should try to find one of those toothpastes, she has a foul taste in her mouth. She looks around the cab and finds a pack of spearmint gum. As she pushes a third gum into her mouth, Daryl and Rick jump on either side of her.

“Where is Jesus?” She asks.

“On the street.”

“What? We can’t just leave him?”

“Of course we can.” Rick replies, turns the key and starts the car. 

“So long, you prick.” Daryl shouts out of the window as they drive off.

Mila chuckles dryish; She has an underlying sense that something is going to happen. Karma. She takes out the case of cd’s from her backpack, picks the “best of sixties” album and pushes the cd into the stereo. The sound of Connie Francis “Tennessee waltz” crackles out of the speakers and Daryl hands out snacks from the vending machine. 

“Still worked out. Today still is the day.” Rick recalls while snacking on a chocolate-peanut bar. He then points in front of him. “Hey, look at that.”

The truck drives out of the forest, and Mila sees both fields and buildings.

“Yeah, a barn.“ Daryl says. 

As Rick turns off in the direction of the barn, something makes them all fall silent and listen; thumps, like something hitting the truck box, is heard even over the loud music.

“What’s that?” Mila exclaims. “You hear that?”

It’s inevitable what the noise is; footsteps.

“I think that son of a bitch is on the roof.” Daryl says. 

All three of them react at the same time; Rick stands on the brake pedal, the car stops with a howl and Jesus falls down in front of the windshield and tumbles to the ground. Daryl, swearing loudly, throws himself out of the car to follow him and Mila follows Daryl. She has no idea why, but her gut feeling tells her that Daryl won’t be gentle on him. It also tells her that Jesus probably isn’t dangerous at all, which isn’t in his favor if Daryl, who’s all muscles and pretty bad impulse control, gets a hold of him.

“Daryl-” She calls. “No- Stop!”

“I’ve had enough of ya’!” Daryl shouts at Jesus, not hearing Mila. 

This must look ever so stupid, Mila thinks as she sprints after Daryl and the hippy-dippy guy into the dry green field; like one of those silent films, except that the soundtrack in this case happens to be Helen Shapiro’s “Walking back to happiness” playing from the car. Mila running after Daryl, running after this odd long-haired man who seems to believe he’s Jesus. Why in the world would he otherwise call himself that? 

”No- no, stop it!” Mila shouts, as if she was scolding at a bad dog. 

She stumbles and falls flat on her stomach, while Jesus reaches the now stationary truck and throws himself into the driver’s seat. Daryl follows.

“Come here, you little shit!” He barks and starts to drag Jesus out of the car. 

At the same time a walker has snuck up behind Daryl. Mila gets up on her knees, gropes for her gun, but before she has managed to raise it to shoot, she hears Jesus call out ‘duck’; Daryl ducks just in time. A gun finds its way into the walker's skull and it falls back like a bowling pin. 

“Thanks.” Daryl pants, then sends off a punch into Jesus face. “That's my gun! Come here!” 

He throws Jesus out of the truck, onto the grass. He doesn’t remain there for long; instead, he lays hooks for Daryl, who stumbles, giving Jesus time to get up on his feet and set off again.

“Son of a-” Daryl roars and runs after.

“Fuck- knock it out!” Mila shouts and increases her speed, minimizing the distance between herself and her, frankly pissed off, other half. Before Daryl’s able to take another leap in his hunt for the handcuffed, longhaired karate kid, she tackles him to the ground with a thud. ”Stop this!” Mila climbs up on top of him, to prevent Daryl from getting up from the grass. ”This is stupid!” 

”Christ- knock it out ya’!” 

Crap, she doesn’t have time to argue. Mila climbs over Daryl and sets after Jesus, who has slowed down to watch the wrestling match played out in the grass behind him. A surprised expression spreads on his bearded face as he sees her approaching, faster than he imagined. Jesus turns and starts to run again, but he doesn’t get up to speed fast enough. Mila lunges for him and they tumbles to the ground in a bundle of arms and legs, and she starts to wrestle him. He doesn’t fight her, but he tries with all his power to get loose from her grip. Mila gets a sharp elbow in the eye and a cracked lip before hobo-Jesus is ripped away from her by Daryl, who looks like he’s boiling.

“Ey, that’s ma’ girl, ya’ scumbag!”

“Wohaa, jeez.” The long haired, ravaged man, flies like a raggedy Anne-doll through the air.  

Mila gets up from the ground, covered in dry grass and wipes blood from her mouth on the back of her hand. Her eye pounds and already feel swollen, a certain recipe for an upcoming, gorgeous black eye. Daryl pants loudly through his nostrils while holding on to the ravaged man’s coat, the poor guy can barely stand up straight.  

“I had him.” Mila glares at Daryl and spits blood on the ground in front of her feet.

“I’d had him if ya’ didn’t tackle me.” Daryl scoffs back, still holding on to Jesus' collar. 

“You’d kill that poor man if you’d catched him.” Mila replies, pointing at Jesus. “You’re not exactly sensible when you’re angry.”

“Oh yeah right, you’re the one to talk!” Daryl scoffs back. “What about that guy’s kneecaps-”

“I had every right-” Mila cries. “He sliced my guts with a fucking machete!” 

”You two are related of some sort?” Jesus doubtfully breaks in. 

”Married!”

“What?” Daryl sputters, looking both terrified and shocked at her sudden, out of the blue exclamation. 

“Feels like it!” Mila replies and spits more blood; they’re arguing like they were married at least. “Pridurok...” She mutters, eyes locked at Daryl.  

”Oh-” Jesus pants and looks just as confused as Daryl does, plus a bit tufted. “Right-”

“Shut up.”

Pow! Jesus falls to the ground. Mila rolls her eyes; why does he have to punch everyone? She snorts and turns, stepping through the tall grass in the direction of the car. Damn hypocrisy, she thinks to herself. She passes Rick, who walks in the opposite direction out in the tall grassy field, holding his bloody knife, but ignores him. She’s frankly grumpy and her eye hurts. But she halts when she doesn’t spot the truck.

“Where the fuck is the truck!?”

She looks around. It’s nowhere to be seen. As she lets her gaze sweep over the field she catches sight of something behind some trees, in the small pond.

“Shit.” Rick comes up at her side, eyes locked at the truck that’s sinking further down the pond. “He must’ve knocked it into neutral.”

“Now what?”

They both turn and start walking back towards Daryl and the man in the grass.

“Are you alright?” Rick looks at Daryl. “Let's go check them cars, get the hell out of here.”

“What about the guy?” Mila points at Jesus. 

“What about him?” Daryl asks. 

“Well, he was actually nice, saved you.” She replies. 

“Hm.”

“Did he ever pull a weapon on you?” Rick asks. 

“Fine.” Daryl sputters. “Fuck- fine. Let’s put him up a tree.”

“No. He’ll come back with us.” Mila corrects, giving Daryl a sharp gaze. “Enough of that grumpy attitude.” She nods at Jesus. “Come on, let’s find a car. Drag him with you.”

They find a working car about fifteen minutes later. Daryl throws Jesus into the backseat. Mila takes the wheel, Daryl calls shotgun and Rick takes place next to Jesus, who’s still knocked out and they start driving back to Alexandria. 

“He took a pretty hard hit.” Rick says and meets Mila’s gaze in the mirror, then looks at Jesus. “Denise needs to look him over.”

“Try to wake him.” Mila suggests. “See if he’s got permanent brain damages.”

Rick shakes the man, who grunts and starts moving. He blinks and jumps.

“You’re alive.” Rick says. “Good.”

“Yeah-” Jesus grunts again. “Why am I in a car? I heard something about a tree.”

“It was a joke.” Mila says, meeting his drowsy eyes in the mirror. 

“It wasn’t.” Daryl looks at her.

“You wouldn’t have gone through with it.” Mila gives him a sharp gaze. “You wouldn’t have left him.”

“I would’ve-” Daryl nods upwards. “Right up in a tree.”

“He’s a comedian.” Mila says, once again looking at Jesus in the mirror, not taking notice of Daryl’s irritated expression. “Or at least tries to be.”

”Where have you been all my life?” Jesus chuckles and looks at her in the mirror and sends off a radiant smile that tells Mila that he’s using mouthwash on a daily basis. 

”Ey- knock it out!” Daryl reaches back and slaps the man on his tied up hands. 

Mila lets out a faint laugh. Huh, look at that; a jealous Daryl Dixon. Jeez Louise, there’s nothing to worry about, Mila thinks to herself, but Daryl’s poor self-confidence doesn’t make it easy for him. She pats her jealous, southern knight on the back of the hand.  

”He looks like a hippy dippy orthodox priest.” Mila gives the surly, blushing archer a soft gaze. “Calm down, Dixon.” She turns to the rear view mirror and the hippy dippy man in the backseat. If papa was here, he wouldn’t have let him inside the car. Not in a million years. “No offense, but you do.” She says to Jesus.

”None taken.” He nods at her with a curious gaze. “What’s up with the accent?”

”Up and running, thanks for noticing.”

While steering the car with her knees, Mila once again takes out the case of cd’s, now missing the one with sixties-music, takes out a random cd and puts it in the stereo. She adjusts the volume-wheel on the radio and increases the sound of “The Chain” and starts to tap the wheel while singing along. 

“You’re a really good singer.” The man in the back calls after a while.

“Thanks.” Mila replies backwards. “I’m a dental nurse.”

“Did you sing to the patients?”

“To the kids, sometimes. Some terrified men before they, you know-” She closes her eyes and pretends to snore. “Put them down.”

“I’m sure that’s not what it’s called.” Rick replies.

“I made them sleep.” Mila shrugs her shoulders. “Right?”

“Not what it sounded like.” Daryl says and meets her eyes, with a slightly amused expression on his stern face. 

“Anyway I think it sounded beautiful.” Jesus says. 

”I like this guy!” Mila looks at him and Rick with an excited smile upon her face, nodding her head to the beat of the music. ”Can we keep him?”

“He ain’t a dog.” 

“But he’s quite fun!” 

”You see.” Jesus says triumphantly. “She likes me.”

That’s it for Daryl. He turns and once again starts to try and hit the guy. Mila hits the brakes and the car stops with such force that Jesus is thrown into the headrest of the passenger seat, and dozes off.

“Knock it off!” Mila roars. “Or I won’t drive an inch further.”

The angry mom-voice isn’t only effective on children, it works really well on adult men as well. Daryl mutters and returns to his seat. Mila steps on the gas pedal again and continues to drive. Outside, it eventually starts to get dark. The sky is clear and the stars look brighter than ever. When she brakes at the gate to Alexandria, it’s pitch black. Daryl gets out, opens the gate and she drives into the community; a sensation of calm spreads throughout her body. That’s when she remembers.

“Shit.”

“What?” Rick asks.

“Forgot to get marshmallows.”

When the gate’s closed and locked, Daryl gets into the car again and Mila drives up to the infirmary, parks and the engine dies. The three of them get out of the car and stretch. What a fucking day, Mila thinks to herself, while watching Rick and Daryl dragging the still unconscious Jesus out of the backseat. They carry him up the stairs to the infirmary, knock on the door and wait. Denise opens in a few seconds.

“Sorry to wake you up.” Rick excuses himself before Denise can say something.

From her spot at the car, Mila notices Denise’s confused expression as she notices the lifeless man. 

“Who is this?!”

“Come on, man, he's heavy.” Daryl says to Rick. “Oh, that thing-” He looks at Denise. “Uh, didn't work out. It's this asshole's fault. Sorry.”

While they bring Jesus inside, Mila leans up against the hot hood and looks at the stars. Juri has probably been asleep for a while now. She doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s late. Rick and Daryl walk out of the infirmary just as she catches sight of the pole star. 

“He’s taken care of.” Daryl says as he walks up to her. He examines her in detail in the faint glow of the infirmary. “Let’s patch ya’ up.” 

Mila doesn’t struggle. She’s tired and hungry. They go back into the infirmary and she sits down on one of the beds with clean, white sheets and exhales. There’s a mirror in the corner of the room. When Mila sees her reflection, she sighs even deeper; she has a pretty neat blackeye and a cracked lip. Daryl sits down on the stool in front of her.  

“A hell of a blackeye-” He squints at the look of her pulsating, sore eye. “Ya’ really took a few punches.” He takes the bottle with alcohol and a wipe and pours some onto it. “Like Rocky Balboa.”

“Yeah, but I won.” Mila replies. 

“Just like Rocky.” Daryl replies. “Still though- hell of a fight.” 

“Better me than you I guess.” Mila swears as Daryl, as gently as he can, wipes her cracked lip with the drenched wipe. “You’d kill him.” 

Mila nods over Daryl’s shoulder, towards the knocked out man lying on the narrow hospital bed, handcuffed to the bed frame. Daryl turns, looks at Jesus, then scoffs. 

“I’ll kill him if he ever puts his hands on ya’ again.” Daryl mutters and throws the wipe over the room, into the trash bin. 

“Don’t have to, I’ll do it myself.” Mila smiles, but grimaces; it hurts to smile. “I know.” Daryl replies. “Sorry ‘bout earlier. For yellin’ at ya’.”

“You gotta work on that temper.” Mila states. “It ain’t good for the blood pressure.”

With a grunt, as much of an answer as anything, Daryl puts his hand at the back of her head, brings it to his lips and kisses her on the forehead. 

“Ain’t gonna need to stitch ya’ up.” He says. “Come on, let’s get ya’ to bed, Rocky.”

“Yes, Adrien.” Mila grins wryly. “What about Jesus Christ Superstar?” She nods towards the other bed. 

“Yeah we’ll deal with him later.”

“You gonna tuck me in first?” Mila asks. “I’d love that, but honestly, I need a quick shower before bed. I think I might have caught every possible STD there is from that disgusting toilet at the gas station.”

[h0esvck]

Request : Halloween sex? Thank you

It's not Halloween but who gives a fuck, I wanna dress up in cute slutty outfits rn lemme be

Namjoon

You had decided on the outfits for Namjoon and you to wear to the idol Halloween party tonight. When he was handed a wolf outfit (which even had a collar) he got an idea of what the couples costume was about, but nothing could've prepared him for how sexy and cute you looked when you came out of the bathroom. And just like how oblivious and innocent Little Red Riding Hood was, so were you to the way Namjoon was hungrily staring at you, practically licking his lips at the sight of you. "Ready to go?" You asked with an innocent smile as you grabbed your bag of things. "Yes, I'm ready," he said subtly implying he was more than ready to fuck the living hell out of you.

You hum as you drive to the party before walking inside hanging off Namjoon's arm, your big bad wolf who would do anything to protect you rathed than hurt you. You showed off your outfits with a cute smile that could melt anyone's heart. And it truly did melt Namjoon's but at the end of the night Namjoon was still a man, and he still desired to have you, naked and trembling beneath him as he makes you cum so hard around his cock. So that's what he did. As soon as you got home he was upon you like a wolf and it's prey. Ironic considering your outfits. He started with pinning you down on his big bed, and forwarding your legs, laying them over his shoulders as he ate you out until you came. You were still moaning and twitchy from the pleasure of your orgasm when he began to fuck you into the mattress while still wearing his collar. "O-oh god," your back arched and you clenched around him, panting heavily and whining his name as he fucked you so good, hitting all the perfect spots to make you cum again. "God, Namjoon youre gonna makd me cum-!" Your back arches and he leans down and kisses you, fucking you harder and deeper to make you whimper and scream in pleasure. You cum again and Namjoon pulls out before turning you on your belly and fucking you from behind whispering dirty things in your ear. "Is this what you imagined when picking out our outfits? Big bad wolf corners you in his bed and fucks you silly?" He goes faster and you cry out, your pussy sensitive from cumming twice. "Bad girl, such a bad girl, gonna eat you all up," he smacks your ass making your head jerk.

You cum another two times before he's satisfied and cums as well. Your pussy was definitely sore after that, but you didn't give a single fuck.

Seokjin

Seokjin grins as he fixes his collar in the mirror, he has the fake fangs in and blood running down his chin. His hair is styled up and he has contacts in that make his eyes shimmer red in the perfect lighting. He looks absolutely dashing in his medieval vampire costume, it fits him so well and he knows it. He continues to stare at himself into the mirror as he calls your name to come out in your outfit he chose as well. "(Y/N)!~" he calls. "The party starts soon, and I'd like to meet up with the boys early for photos so I can show off my girlfriend to them," he is subtly asking you to hurry up in the bathroom. You smile as you hear him, youre applying vibrant red lipstick as you speak. "Almost done dear~" you finish your make up and you open the door to see Jin checking himself out. You snicker and walk up behind him, hugging him from behind. "Mmm, you look good, " he turns and looks at you before his eyes widen. "And you look," he takes your waist in his hand. "You look even better."

"Is that so?" You raise a brow with a giggle and he smiles. "I'd rather show you than tell you how amazing you look," he leans down and kisses your lip, getting some of the fake blood on your chin. You also had two fake puncture wounds in your neck with blood dripping out for where Jin had bitten you.

He grabs your waist with both hands and turns you to slam you up against the lifesize mirror. "I'll have you dripping with more than blood," he said before kissing you, fondling your breasts and making you moan. He doesn't even take off your clothes, he pushes your skirt up and he and slides your panties to the side where he slides in and fucks you. "O-oh Jin," you whimper and bite you lip as he fucks you against the mirror. You hold onto his wide shoulders for dear life as he fucks you at speeds that felt inhuman, god you were gonna cum so fucking hard. You were so wet and dripping just like Jin had predicted. Maybe something about Jin being a vampire made sense, he never seemed to age and he was just sexy as fuck. Oh fuck, imagining Seokjin as a vampire had your toes curling as you came.

He pulled out and came as well, panting and kissing you with a smile. He checked his watch and his eyes widened, "shit we're gonna be late!" You two hurry to put yourselves back together before meeting up with the others boys, except it's more than obvious what had happened before you showed up. You two subtly get teased about it the whole night.

Yoongi

Yoongi looks at his mint green hair and he chuckles. "You really like the mint don't you?" You smile and nod as you look at your hair in pigtails with the ends dipped in pink and blue dye making them perfect for your costumes. You were the Joker and Harley Quinn and you bith looked amazing. Yoongi even let you put the temporary tattoo's of the jokers on him, it was so so sexy. "Come on let's go," he grabs his leather jacket but you just giggle and push him back onto the couch. "Tha party can wait for us." You wink and he raises a brow a small knowing grin on his face. "Oh is that so?"

You end up in his lap, your shorts off and stockings still on (a hole in the crotch though) bouncing on his cock. "You're my little slut aren't you?" He chuckles gripping your hips tighter and you moan. "All yours puddin'!" You wink and hips jerk as you get close. "G-gonna cum," you say and Yoongi recahes between your legs to rub your throbbing clit until you come undone on his lap. You pant and rest your head on his chest after he pulls out and cums as well. "We should go now," you say, your make up being messed up not a big deal when Harley's make up is always messed up anyways.

Hoseok

Hoseok doesn't get to see you until he shows up at the party. He had to come late because he was busy, but when he came and found you laning against the hood of a car looking all sexy as you talk to some of his friends he was definitely turned on. "Well fuck," he mumbles and walks over, his pants seeming just a bit tighter than they were before.

You spot him and smile. "Hoseok!" You get up and kiss him sweetly. "You look, hot baby," you promise and he chuckles shamelessly putting his hand on your ass, "I could say the same for you," he winks and you swat his hand away playfully before going to get you both drinks. Later during the party, Hoseok has you in the bathroom, making out with you furiously as he gropes you all over through your sexy clothes. "Goodness fuck baby," he grinds against you and you bite your lip to muffle a moan. "Need this off, NOW" he says and you nod pulling down the zipper all the way down to your crotch where he sees you in a thong. "Oh fuck (Y/N) I'm gonna cum in my pants if you get any hotter," he pushes your clothes down and he bends you over the sink and begisn to fuck you over it. You had to bite your hand to muffle your noises of pleasure as Hoseok grunted behind you, fucking your tight little hole so good you were dripping down your thighs. Hoseok pulls out and cums on your ass before kneeling down and eating you out until you cum, squirming and moaning his name as your legs shake from pleasure. "Good girl," he smacks your ass and helps you wipe his cum off of yourself before fixing your outfit and going back out to party. Only the other members were close enough to Hoseok to know he had just fucked his girlfriend. They could see it in the way his skin glowed, haply cocky macho man. You went home and fucked again after the party.

Jimin

You and Jimin had decided to show up at the Halloween party as Eric and Ariel. You were so cute together, Jimin with his bouncy black hair and you in your pretty shimmery mermaid tail skirt and cute purple seashell bra. Little did you know your cute outfit was driving Jimin insane. It just reminded Jimin of how much he loved you and your body and how much he wanted to appreciate it. But you were having so much fun talking to the other girls and giggling about god knows what, so he controlled himself for the duration of the party. He hangs out with the boys, has a few drinks and snacks, and when the party is over you two go home. You're tired and want to go to sleep, except you aren't given the chance when Jimin is all over you kissing you in the hallway to the bedroom and groping you like this would be his last chance to ever touch you. "J-Jimin!" You yelp when he hikes up your skirt before you can even get in the bedroom and his hand is between your lets, caressing you through you panties and making you shiver.

"Good god baby you looked so good tonight, I had to control myself from taking you right then and there in front of everyone like a wild animal." He kisses you again. "Fuck, you're in for a sleepless night," he says and you whimper and nod spreading your legs more when he brushes over your clit. "Don't- don't wanna sleep when I can be with you" he looks at you, still for a moment before pushing you into his room and onto hie bed where he kneels and begins to eat you out like the princess you are, giving you everything you deserve and more. Park Jimin was damn thirsty that night and only you could quench his thirst. So you did.

Taehyung

Taehyung is absolutely in LOVE with these outfits for the party, in fact, he loves them so much he asked everyone's opinions on them while you were there. It made you embarrassed but you had to admit the outfits were really cute. You were dressed up as Emily and Victor from Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. You both looked cute but you had worn a blue gem plug tonight and it was making you hornier with every step. You tried getting Taehyung's attention a few times but he was so busy with the members you gave up. You'd wait till you got home.

When you did get home you did a dramatic lazy stretch and began taking off your dress in front of Taehyung. "I've been so hot the whole night," you toss your bra aside and then begin to push down your panties which makes Taehyung's eyes widen. "And this darn plug," you kick your panties to the side, completely naked now. "It's been bothering me all night," you bend over in front of him a bit and pull your cheek aside for him to see the pretty blue gem plug. Taehyubg swallows, mouth dry and dick hard in his pants. "If only there was someone to help with it," you stand back up and look at him before smiling. "What?" You ask and he swallows again. "I-I can help," he says and you hum. "Can you? You've been ignoring me all night..." You pout and he lightly glares before pulling your hips forward so you're standing in front of him, hips level with his face making you blush because you're naked. "That was obviously a mistake," he grabs a cheek in both hands, spreading them apart making you gasp. "Now get on the bed, ass up because I wanna see your pretty plug as I fuck you from behind." You blush and nod before leaning down and kissing him before doing as he said. Oh and he did fuck you from behind. Fast and hard and making you cum so hard... Three times.

Jungkook

Jungkook had chosen the outfits since you really didn't wanna be an overwatch character for him so this was the next best thing. It was cute and badass and sexy and you got to ogle your boyfriend's abs all night long. It was a win for you and your uh, sexual fantasies.

Thankful those fantasies of Jungkook taking you and fucking the hell out of you didn't have to stay fantasies long. Jungkook had been ogling you the whole duration of the party as well. So when he cornered you in the hallway and pulled you into the closet, making out with you heavily it was like a dream come true.

"God, you look so fucking hot tonight," he pulls your bra down exposing your breasts and he leans down and kisses and gropes them, sucking your nipples and making you sigh and moan. "I could say the same for you," you say breathlessly as you undo the buttons on his pants. "I can't tell you how many times I imagined you fucking me tonight," you whispered and he groaned, "oh fuck," he quickly yanks down your pants and your underwear with it. He picks you up by your thighs and he wastes no time thrusting into you. You moan loudly and he muffles your moans by kissing you. "We're so perfect for each other," you giggle and he smiles before kissing you again and thrusting fast and hard into you. "So hot baby, so hot and wet for me," he makes you whimper with his words. "That this poor neglected pussy been clenching and throbbing, thinking about my cock all night? Hmm baby girl?" He thrusts hard and your back arches. "Yes-! Yes!" You moan and your toes curl in your boots. "Good, because my cock has been missing your pussy all night,"

You fuck in the closet and afterwards you two are so giggly and acting almost drunk you're high off the pleasure of having sex in public and successfully getting away with it. Neither of you noticed the scratches down Jungkook's back, but everyone else did.

A week later Jungkook gets a letter from BigHit telling him to please refrain from doing such things in the BigHit building. You both want to crawl in a hole from embarrassment.

Masterlist ⛥彡

Hyung's outfits

Maknae's outfits

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 24

Previous: Codename Black Panther Meets Codename Cupid

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x OFC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, Government AgentAU, Angst, Some Fluff

Rating: PG17

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Consensual Sex, Mentions of Rape (as in, wait, she raped him?) 

Summary: Black Panther is onboard and Cricket & Bunny make an important decision regarding the trajectory of their relationship. 

Penultimate Chapter

OT8 

Present Day 

         The sunlight streaks through my window, blurring my vision with its shine. I’m fairly exhausted, and sore, and dare I say, happy? I’m pulled away from my restorative slumber as my phone rings, Earth, Wind & Fire blaring. I’ve had the same ringtone since I was 19, and I’m never going to change it.

         “Fuck,” I whisper, taking it from the charger and rolling my eyes at the caller ID. “Hello?”

         “Hey, did you get kidnapped?” C asks.

         “Um, sort of? Why?” I slip out of the bedroom, tossing my robe over my barely clothed body and sit on the couch.

         “It came across my desk and I was wondering if there was something you needed to tell me,” C informs me.

         “Oh?”

         “Is there?” She pushes.

         “No, everything is fine,”

         “Okay, are you sure?”

         “Are you tapping my phone?” I ask.

         “No,”

         “Do you know someone who is?”

         “Depends, do you?” Her words are delicate, leading without being forthcoming.

         “Perhaps,” My voice pitches up at the last syllable, a hold over, a question that I refuse to ask.

         “Hmm,” That’s her tell.

         “You knew, this whole time?” I accuse.

         “Well, sort of. I was clued in a bit ago,” She tells me.

         “Did everyone know about this before me?”

         “What have they told you?” She’s trying to toe the line.

         “A little, I go back in today,” She probably knows this already.

         “Keep Jungkook close, he’ll be helpful,” C advices.

         “How did you –

         “Your onboarding will you go smoothly if you don’t fight RM and Suga,”  

         “Seriously?” I snap.

         “Seriously, trust me,” Her older sibling reeks, doling out advice I didn’t ask for.  

         “Fine,” I huff, how is it that everyone knows about this organization besides me?

         “Love you,” She says.

         “Mean it,” I respond before I hang up.

          I look towards my bedroom, where Jungkook lays, and am beyond upset. How is it possible that everyone knew about OT7, that I was being followed, except me? My own sister? Jungkook is one thing, he works for them, but her? Why didn’t she say anything sooner? That’s truly what’s making me so upset and frustrated, that I was working 14-16 hour days, beating myself up for not finding Cupid answers sooner, and my fucking sister was sitting on all the information I needed. What’s worse? She didn’t let on that she knew. She didn’t drop a hint, a breadcrumb, a wink or knowing glance. All she wanted to ask about was Jungkook, in a year, all she ever asked… Fuck sisters.

         “Cricks, do you want coffee?” Jungkook stands in the door frame to the bedroom, chest bare, ink spread across his arm and up his right peck. His hand tattoos, and the one on his upper shoulder, are my absolutely favorite. They’re sentimental, meaningful, powerful. Black with minimal color, they’re staggering against his honeyed skin. While his model status is never lost on me, it’s his thoughtfulness that gets me every time.

         “Yes please,” I reply.

         “You thinking about last night?” He moves with ease towards the small kitchen, pulling my favorite mugs from the cabinet.

         “Which part?” I ask.

         “Any part,” He shrugs, his muscles moving up and down seamlessly.

         “Yeah, a little,” I tell him.

         “What’s on your mind?” He turns, arms crossing, I swear he tries to look tough, but he just looks like a pissed off Thumper.

         “My sister knows,”

         “Knows?”

         “About you, about OT7,” I clarify.

         “How?”

         “No fucking clue, she said not to piss off Namjoon and Yoongi, though.”

         Jungkook snorts before nodding his head, “Watch out for Jimin and well, you saw Seokjin. He bottles it up and then explodes. Jimin’s just a hot head. Namjoon, is ruthless, but no one is as ruthless as Yoongi-hyung.”

         “That leaves you and Tae? And Hoseok, I don’t know much about Hoseok,”

         “You’ll really like him, you’ll like all of them. They aren’t as rough around the edges as they seem,” He pours the coffee into our mugs, reaching into the kitchen to grab the oat milk to pour into mine.

         “Did you put caramel in it?” I question, sniffing the liquid.

         “Mm, three pumps right?”

         “Yeah, what, a 1/5 of what it took you last night?” I wink. Jungkook hates when I’m blatantly sexual, murmuring a simple ‘stop’ as his cheeks become a deep crimson.

         “That’s really what you think of me?” He questions, moving to stand in front of me. I spread my legs to let him stand between, and he leans down, hands on my thighs. “After last night?”

         “You know that’s not what I think, Bunny,” I reply. “You know how highly I think of you and your sexual prowess.”

         “Then don’t fucking tease me about it,” Jungkook leans down to place a kiss on my cheek.

         “Can I ask one work question?”

         “Yes,” He grabs his cup and sits on the stool next to me.

         “What happened between Taehyung and Cupid? She says it was a difference in opinion, a misunderstanding that led to an abortion? That’s not Taehyung though, and OT7 wouldn’t make her abort anything, would they?” I sip my coffee. Fuck me if he doesn’t make it better than I do.

         “She wasn’t pregnant,” Jungkook answers.

         “She wasn’t? Why did she lie?”

         “She’s full of lies, Cricket,”

         “Okay, then what actually happened?”

         “She took advantage of him,” Jungkook’s eyes stare into his coffee, the blackness reflected in his irises.

         I nearly choke on my coffee. “Of Tae?”

         “Mm, of Tae, more than once,”

         “Did you-

         “We didn’t know, I didn’t know until I was onboarded fully. Tae went to Joon-hyung, and then it was handled.”

         “Oh my god,” I whisper. “Oh my god.”

         “Mm,” Jungkook’s signature sound is muttered, a delicate whisper against my raging anxiety.

         “She raped him?” I question.

         “Yes,” He refuses to look at me, but the clench of his jaw is unmistakable.

         “But... wow,” Is all I can say.

         “Wow?”

         “I just, if I had known, I wouldn’t have worked with her,”

         “You didn’t know,” Jungkook’s hand engulfs mine in that familiar embrace.

         “Is Tae alright?”

         “Yes, he went to a lot of therapy and was pulled from field work,”

         “The mission was terminated, fuck that’s a loaded word, but he didn’t have to –

         “No, the second Namjoon knew, he ended it. That’s one of our rules, no one engages in behavior they are not comfortable with,” He informs me, another piece of information I’m sure Namjoon will be telling me during onboarding. God, days spent listening to Namjoon go over rules? I’d rather suffer through another one of Cupid’s family dinners than sit through him. Is he like, fun? Now’s not the time to ask… but fuck me if I’m not curious.

         “She, Cupid, she said he made her abort the baby, which didn’t match up with the Taehyung I was seeing or with any evidence but then again she never gave me any records to check it with and I wasn’t allowed to look into her health record at all,” I ramble.

         “That tracks. There’s a lot you’ll find out about Cupid, and her family… there’s a lot you don’t know, Cricket. But, for right now, you need to know that there was no baby, she was never pregnant, just wanted to trick Taehyung into sticking around. It began with Yoongi, and just escalated.”

         We sip our coffee in silence. The tension is dissipating, but I’m still nervous and scared. I consorted with a known rapist, worked months with her, took her money. What will Taehyung think of me now? Do I apologize? I should apologize, when I see him. Though, that’s not the responsibility of the victim to accept an apology. I didn’t know. Like I told Yoongi, I’m not Nixon, this isn’t Watergate. No one will ask what I know and when I knew it, no one will back date and check my sources to confirm. But I will always know that I engaged with her after she committed various offenses against someone I know I will care deeply for, someone who cares deeply for the one I love.

         I know it’s not in my place to feel guilty, or maybe it is. Isn’t part of being an ally sitting in your own privilege, your own ability to feel grateful that it wasn’t you, and recognizing you have leaps and bounds in order to support those who have gone through whatever it is? I’m an ally to Jungkook, though I’m not Korean or first generation, and he’s an ally to me, though he isn’t biracial or a descendant of slaves. We both work towards the same cause though. Doesn’t sexual assault, rape, harassment, fall under the same umbrella?

         “Cricket?” Jungkook’s hand has moved to rub circles on my back.

         “Bunny?” I glance at him, bottom lip between my teeth again, though I’ve already gnawed off every dead skin cell.

         “Hm?”

         I always smile when he makes that sweet sound, or its derivative, mm.

         “Do you still want to move in, or was last night an over correction for the fight?” I question.

         “You’re really doubting me today, aren’t you?” His brows slope against his eyes, his ministrations against my back freeze. Those furrowed little lines on the flesh where the slope of his nose meets his forehead mark his deep concentration.

         “I’m not doubting you. I just want to make sure. You know, we’re in our twenties. We are prone to fall for the cohabitation effect.”

         “The what?”

         “Couples who move in together as a reaction to fear their relationship will dissolve, often move in to preserve something. Then when they realize they aren’t compatible or don’t want to continue being together, they don’t break up because they live together,” I inform him.

         “Is this one of your theories?”

         “No, it’s Dr. Meg Jay, The Defining Decade. I have two copies, you should read it,”

         “Okay, put it on my bedside table and I will,”

         “Oh, so you’re, in?” I smile.

         “Oh, I’m in, completely,” Jungkook kisses me soundly, hand creeping under my shirt to caress the bare skin.

         “We have to get ready,” I tell him, tilting my head to grant him access to my neck, which has thoroughly missed his touch in the last eight hours.

         “Fuck it,” He murmurs, the vibration of his tenor voice echoing through my skin.

         “Bunny, they’re going to be so mad, and I know Namjoon already hates me,” My hands gently ghost down his chest, drawing shapes against his abs before resting on the hem of his boxer briefs. He’s so tempting, all skin and muscle, sweeping bleached locks and soulful eyes. I was right for driving into them.

         “He doesn’t hate you,”

         “Yoongi at least-

         “They don’t hate you, we’re just a unit and you bring new energy to the entire group, that’s all it is.” He confirms.

         Pulling the inner flesh of my lip between my teeth, I exhale. “What if they hate me?”

         “They won’t,”

         “Jungkook,”

         “Y/N”

         “Will that change your opinion of me?” I ask.

         “Oh honey, of course not,” He assures. I don’t know what it is, blind faith and trust I guess, but I always believe him on the first go.

         “Okay, do you want to shower before we go?”

         “Together?” He asks. His hands are still under my shirt, gently palming my latte skin until it burns with desire. I hate how good he is, how seductive, sensual, misleading his bunny smile and endearing eyes are. I want him always.

         “Why else would I’ve skipped the underwear?” I move his hand under the hem of my night shirt. He growls ever so softly at the feeling of my bare ass in is hand. “And to think, you thought I was kidding about your work last night! Sore or night, I think we’ve got enough time for me to prove you wrong.”

~~~~~

         “Here’s my question,” I start, directing OT7’s focus to me. It’s been three hours of listening to Namjoon go over protocols and procedures. I haven’t smiled once, well, Jungkook did walk by and wink at me, which I’ll admit, made me blush. This is my second time in the large conference room, and together we’re discussing the case, my knowledge of the Lee’s, and where we stand now. It feels like a scene out of Be More Chill, but instead of data dumping everything I’ve learned, they’re painstakingly pulling it from me. Yoongi’s got my hard drives, all my notes, he’s cracked every password and firewall defense I set up. Of course he is, he’s Min Yoongi.

         “Yoongi, how the fuck did you become so off the grid? I couldn’t find you, period.”

         “That’s part of my job, Black Panther,” He smirks.

         “Your work on Enterprises was under Park Yoongi, and you left no visible trace on the company. You don’t show up in alum magazines or columns, no birth certificate, anything of public record is gone. What the fuck did you do?”

         “That’s for me to know,” Yoongi winks at me.

         “And Namjoon, what the fuck happened when you turned 16?”

         “What do you mean?” He asks, puzzled by the question.

         “You are everywhere, every magazine, every scholarly article, on every universities formal lecture docket, and then poof. Like you didn’t exist,” I stare at him, he’s far less of a dick than I previously thought. We have some similarities too, actually, OT7 and I are far more alike than I realized.

         “I did exist, I was just busy training,” He shrugs.

         “You started training at 16?”

         “A little before that, has JK not told you?”

         “He’s hardly told me anything,”

         “Even after you found out?” Jimin asks.

         “Even then, what was it you said?”

         “They’re not my stories to tell,” Jungkook shrugs. He’s across the table, in his designated spot next to Taehyung and I desperately wish I could hold his hand. Who. Have. I. Become?

         “Mm,” Namjoon nods, “I was brought on from an early age, trained and then helped shape this group into what it is today.”

         “Namjoon’s the reason we exist,” Hoseok says.

         “He helped select all of us, leads us, makes the decisions,” Jungkook says.

         “So your stunted upbringings trace back to him?” I ask.

         “They trace back to the people above him, Black Panther,” Yoongi corrects.

         “Right, the mythical beings above Namjoon. Do they exist? Have you seen them?”

         “They exist, and they’re a little terrifying,” Seokjin adds.

         “So Namjoon isn’t the end all be all? He’s not even the oldest!”

         “True, he does have to listen to Seokjin,” Jimin laughs. “Sometimes, when hyung is mad, he just launches at Joonie, it’s so funny.”

         “You have to listen to him too,” Yoongi’s glare cuts through him.

         “So do you, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin doesn’t back down.

         “Anyway, Namjoon-hyung had to go through everything first, that’s why he disappeared from the worlds stage.” Seokjin finishes the tale, bringing us back together.

         “Yoongi joined shortly after,” Namjoon continues, “The rest fell into place, well, except Golden Maknae,”

         “Jungkook?” I turn to face my boyfriend, his nose is scrunched, and his hand is behind his head, scratching his neck.

         “He nearly left, luckily, Joonie always knows what to say,” Taehyung says. “I was what, technically last?”

         “Technically, yes,”

         “Which is why we were in training together,” Jungkook reminds him.

         “So you’re one big happy family?” I ask.

         “We fight, but it’s been a decade, we know each other too well,” Yoongi speaks. “which is why when Jungkookie fell in love, we were caught off guard.”

         “Mm,” I nod, mimicking his gesture. “Though you left him off my romantic partners,”

         “Well, that was his request,” Namjoon says.

         “We’ve all experienced heartbreak and fallen out of love. We all hoped that JK wouldn’t be stunted because of our work,” Seokjin explains.

         “Can we not?” Jungkook asks his hyungs. They all turn to him, sensing his discomfort, and laugh.

         “Fine, fine. Back to work,” Namjoon advises.

         “What exactly is the next phase of the plan?” I wonder. “I mean, Cupid doesn’t want to work with me anymore, so what’s next?”

         “Good you asked, Black Panther,” Namjoon changes the slide and passes me another file. “The next phase requires little work from you, aside from ensuring we have all your evidence. The case moves up the line to the Feds and the other countries who are indicting them.”

         “Who all is getting indicted?” I ask.

         “Hopefully the entire board, the entire Codename Valentine family, minus Cupid,”

         “What will be left for her?”

         “Depends on what they take,” Yoongi sips his coffee. He’s much easier to read in person, his features, however angelic, are deeply expressive.

         “What about their investors?”

         Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to respond, “Their money will be frozen for a while, then returned to them.”

         “Do you find it deeply romantic that you’re citing their financial downfall when that’s how you met Cupid?” I ask him.

         “I prefer a slight twist of fate,” Seokjin nods, the bob of his head accompanying the pout. “When will this go down?”

         “The Feds and a few other groups move in on Lee Enterprises early next week,” Jungkook answers. I remain confused as to what he exactly does within this group, it seems like a little of everything but what is everything?

         “So, that’s it? I did my part?”

         “Yes, you did, exceptionally well,” Namjoon answers.

         “You kept her snooping for over a year, all of which we used to nab the rest of her family,” Yoongi starts, “Sure, you were an unexpected parasite for a minute, but you’ve done good work.”

         “First of all, rude, secondly, what will you do now?” I glance at each of their expressions, they’ve mastered the slightly inquisitive yet passively uninterested poker face. It’s impressive, their collective shift in attitude, the quiet “hmm” Yoongi hums, the eyes widening on Jimin, the unmistakable panic within Hoseok, all gone within seconds, like a musician losing an award in real time.

         “What do you mean?” Hoseok asks.

         “When this is over, what will you do? You’ve worked on this for nearly a decade? Who will OT7 be after this?”

         “Wow, ask the horrifying existential questions,” Jimin attempts a chuckle, but it comes out as a strained cough.

         “We’ll move onto our next mission,” Namjoon responds confidently.

         “Which is?”

         “You will not know unless we need your services,” He snips.

         “Okay but why onboard me? Doesn’t that already make me like an honorary member? No longer OT7 but OT8?”

         “No,” The unison chorus of voices that radiates off the glass is chilling. Accompanying the harsh put down, a chorus of laughs.

         “Cult vibes,” I mutter.

         “We’ll be fine, Black Panther. The question remains, what will you do?” Namjoon asks.

         I don’t have an answer, I don’t have a response, all I have is the panicked look on my face. They know I haven’t got a fucking clue what my next career move is. Will I become a member of their team, or a part of the larger organization? Will I go back to aiding depraved housewives in their mission to defame their cheating husbands? I have enough money to hold me over for a month or two, but I guess the question isn’t whether or not I will go back to cheating husbands and slutty mistresses, but do I want to?

         I don’t know.

Next: To Have Loved and Lost