#anyway don’t look at the background this is my first attempt at making a real background

[nato-obenkrieger]

the good part about not having a black suits recording is that i can imagine john calming chris down to be as gay as i want

[earlysunshines]

love at your door

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you wake up on the couch to find out that it’s actually not your couch and oh my god why is your hot neighbor sitting across from you watching tv???

warnings: sana is a FLIRT ; reader is a loser ; sana is a losersexual ; pacing is iffy but it’s bc i wanted it to be short ; alcohol ; anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread so prob spelling errors idk i wrote most on my phone

a/n: based off the time i got drunk and fell asleep in the wrong room… anyways my love for sana will NEVER DIE guess who’s BACK.

you wake up with a groan, face smushed against a cushion that's definitely not yours, and the first thing that hits you—aside from the dull pounding in your head—is the faint sound of a tv playing in the background. 

slowly, you crack your eyes open, blinking against the morning light. you finally realize you’re not in your room, and the couch you're sprawled out on… also not yours.

you sit up too quickly and regret it immediately, head spinning, the room around you momentarily blurred. but then it sharpens, and your heart nearly stops when you spot her. sana, your neighbor—your gorgeous, gorgeous neighbor that you’ve been eyeing since you moved in—sitting across from you on her armchair, completely unbothered with her legs tucked underneath her, eyes fixed on the tv but clearly aware you’re awake now. 

she’s holding a ceramic mug in one hand, and for some reason, that little detail makes everything so much worse.

because—how did you end up here?

you glance down at yourself and, of course, you’re still in your luigi costume from last night. the tight green tank top clings to you under the denim overalls (one strap purposely loose and falling off your shoulder because you’re desperate for attention in these trying times) which you had decided to wear in some ill-fated attempt to look “hot” while still committing to the theme. you had succeeded, at least you think, judging from the compliments you vaguely remember through the drunken haze of the halloween party. but now, under sana’s gaze, you suddenly feel a lot less confident about it.

“jesus christ,” you mutter, rubbing your temples, trying to piece together what happened. “what—”

“morning sleepy,” sana says, finally looking over at you, lips curling into a small, amused smile. “you came stumbling in after the party. i figured it was safer to let you crash here than send you back to your place like that.”

this has to be a nightmare.

her voice is casual, like this isn’t completely mortifying for you. like this isn’t the exact scenario your sleep-deprived, engineering-major brain has dreamed up in countless fleeting moments when you’ve caught glimpses of her in the hallways (well, you figured you’d be in a less embarassing scene) but now it’s real, and your heart is thudding painfully loud in your chest, and you can’t decide if you want to disappear or if you never want to leave.

(the first option might be the smartest)

you clear your throat, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your hands. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t—i didn’t mean to crash here like that. i must’ve been drunk out of my mind i— fuck, nayeon, that bitch… im sorry my friends they’re—“

“don’t worry about it,” she waves off your apology, taking a sip from her mug, her gaze briefly dipping down to your outfit before flicking back to your face. “i never knew luigi could look this good.” she adds, a smirk playing on her face that renders you weak.

you feel heat rise to your face instantly, and you’re pretty sure it’s not just the aftermath of all the alcohol you consumed last night. her words hang in the air, teasing, but there’s something else in her tone that sends a jolt through you. something that makes you suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you feel, the snug fit of the tank top and the way her eyes had lingered on your exposed skin just for a second.

“uh—” you start, but your voice comes out strained, so you clear your throat again, scrambling for a response. “thank you…?”

she grins at your awkwardness, a soft, almost mischievous smile that only adds to the rising tension in the room. “you’re welcome.”

you force a laugh, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes your skin tingle. “right, well… thanks for, uh, taking care of me. and not letting me do something even more embarrassing.”

“more embarrassing than this?” sana raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. she gestures toward your outfit with a nod, and you can’t help but huff a laugh this time, the tension breaking just a little.

“point taken,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the couch to stand, only for a wave of dizziness to hit. sana’s on her feet in a second, steadying you with a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm.

“easy,” she murmurs, and you freeze, suddenly way too aware of how close she is. her hand lingers just a second too long, and when she finally lets go, you feel like you can breathe again—but it doesn’t stop your pulse from racing.

her eyes dart down to the base of your neck and the intensity of her gaze is amplified.

“quite a hickey, huh?”

“what?” you had to be drunk drunk. you can’t recall anything about kissing girls, you’re not the type to be like that when under the influence. “that’s— i can’t even remember.”

“had fun, didn’t you?” sana looks back into your eyes, making you shrink despite her smaller frame. you feel sorry, you want to apologize for something you can’t even remember—you have no clue why. she’s just your neighbor. she’s the neighbor down the hall that greeted you kindly when you had moved in to town. the same neighbor that you had to blink multiple times at before realizing she’s not a fairytale princess that’s creeped out of the books.

you glance at the door, needing an escape, even though a very large part of you doesn’t want to leave just yet. but standing in her living room in yesterday’s clothes with your head still buzzing is doing nothing for your nerves.

“i should, uh, probably go,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the door.

sana steps back, giving you space, but her expression shifts into something playful as she watches you. “right. but hey—if you ever need a place to crash again, my couch is always open.”

you blink, not sure if she’s joking or if there’s more to that offer. but before you can overthink it, you nod, mumbling a quick, “thanks, i’ll keep that in mind,” before heading for the door.

and just as you’re about to step out, sana calls after you, her voice teasing, warm. “hey, luigi.”

you pause, turning to look at her.

she leans casually against the doorframe, eyes glinting with that same playfulness, and she gives you a slow, once-over before her lips curve into a smirk. “seriously. never knew luigi could be this hot.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and all you can do is laugh, a nervous, breathless sound, before quickly slipping out the door, your mind buzzing as you head back to your place.

sana always caught your eye, but now… now you’re pretty sure you’re never going to stop thinking about her.

—

the whole day you’re quite literally losing your mind. as soon as you crash onto your bed when you get back home, you cringe at how much of an idiot you are, and at the fact that you accepted every single drink handed to you by nayeon.

and then the next day, you’re still replaying the entire morning in your head—how sana’s words lingered, the way her eyes had flickered over you with that teasing smile. it’s been driving you to distraction all day. you couldn’t focus during class, barely heard a word your professor said, and by the time your last lecture ends, you’ve come to a decision.

you’re going to do something about it.

(you’re undeniably an idiot, but everyone in your circle knows that anyway.)

so after class, you stop by the small flower shop near campus. it’s not something you’d typically do—flowers and chocolate, that’s so cliché, right? but somehow it feels like the right move. sana had caught you completely off guard yesterday, and maybe it’s time you do the same.

you have a small conversation with the florist, who recommends her favorite assortment of tulips. you don’t want to do too much, so you settle with yellow tulips, their petals delicate and bright. simple, but thoughtful (you hope).

next, you pick out a small box of chocolates, nothing fancy but enough to show you’ve put some real thought into this. because somehow, leaving things the way they were feels unfinished.

you can’t possibly just leave it like that, you can’t have the only real memory and meaningful interaction between you and sana consist of you flat out drunk and at a loss for words.

you’re already a loser as it is, and especially when sana is around—whether that’s when you two both end up at the mailbox together, with you losing the ability to speak when she simply smiles and compliments you; and also the simple greetings when you two arrive at around the same time on wednesday’s and thursdays (not that you take note of it—you definitely do). 

when you get home, you scribble out a short note on a small card:

hi sana,  

thanks for letting me crash on your couch yesterday. i’m really, really sorry. 

here’s a little something as a thank you. hope you like tulips.

and chocolate.

– luigi 

you read it over twice, fighting the nervous energy bubbling up inside you. it’s playful, casual, but maybe—hopefully—it’ll make her smile. you take the flowers, chocolates, and the note, placing everything neatly in a small brown paper bag before heading down the hall.

when you reach her doorstep, your heart is pounding. you place the bag gently on the ground, adjusting the flowers one last time so they look perfect. then, you take a deep breath and knock, firm but quick, before spinning on your heel and rushing back to your own place.

you barely make it through the door before the nerves fully hit. your heart races, and you lean back against the door, letting out a heavy breath. what if she doesn’t like it? what if it’s too much?

but before your thoughts spiral too far, you hear the faint sound of her door opening down the hall, followed by the quiet shuffle of her picking up the bag.

there’s silence for a bit before you hear the door close again, earning a sigh of relief.

if your friends were to find out literally everything that had happened in the span of less than forty-eight hours, they’d tease you until you had to move out again.

—

the next night, you’re at your desk, buried in the engineering assignment youve been given that same day. something about fluid dynamics, a dense problem set that has you scribbling equations and checking graphs on your laptop. it’s not exactly easy to focus—your mind keeps wandering back to sana, the flowers, the chocolates, and really just everything about her. every time you think about her, a small smile tugs at your lips, despite the headache that’s building from the workload.

then, out of nowhere, you hear a knock at the door.

you blink, glancing at the clock. you’re not expecting anyone, and for a second, you wonder if you imagined it. but when the knock repeats, you push your chair back, setting aside your notes. still a little distracted by the assignment, you take your time getting up, stretching briefly before finally heading to the door.

when you open it, there’s no one there. just silence, the hallway empty. but as you glance down, you spot something on the floor—a folded piece of paper. your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but grin as you bend down to pick it up, already knowing who it’s from.

you unfold the note, and sana’s handwriting greets you:

so, you’re kinda cute even in that luigi costume—i couldn’t stop thinking about you

(i think you’re cute in uniform and not) 

though i have to ask—what’s with the hickey? did luigi have a little too much fun?  ;)

anyway, i liked the flowers. i liked the chocolates too. 

but i think i like the person giving them more.

you should come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. i mean, you weren’t that shy the other night ;)  

– sana <3

your face heats up instantly as you read the hickey line, hand instinctively reaching to touch your neck. there’s no way, right? you don’t remember—

then it hits you. fuck. it wasn’t a hickey. nayeon had bullied you about how you ran into something that night at her party, some broom? wall? maybe momo elbowed you? or something. you’re not the type to just fuck random girls, not when you’re loyal to your neighbor that you utter maybe three sentences a week to if you’re lucky. but the thought of what had happened that night isn’t even important because now your mind’s racing, thinking about how sana’s teasing you. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you all giddy and nervous.

you reread the note, feeling that familiar nervous excitement grow. come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. your pulse picks up. there’s no way you’re saying no to that.

without bothering to change out of your hoodie and sweats, you grab your keys, locking the door behind you as you head down the hall. your heart’s still racing, and your mind’s swirling with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you stop in front of sana’s door.

when she opens it, she’s standing there with that same playful smirk—sultry, seductive, and somehow so cute at the same time. her eyes gleam like she already knows exactly what’s going through your mind. 

"took you long enough," she says, stepping aside to let you in, her voice warm, teasing. "for a second, i thought you’d be too shy to show up."

you huff a laugh, shaking your head as you walk inside, glancing around her apartment again. “i’m– i’m not.” it sounds unconvincing, but the woman in front of you thinks it’s adorable.

she quirks a brow, then smiles at that, closing the door behind you. "good to know." she says, handing you a small glass of wine and suddenly everything is a little bit too intimate. 

the two of you end up sitting on her couch, the tv still softly playing in the background like it had been the other morning. the conversation flows easily—there’s that natural comfort between you now, even with the teasing tension that lingers under the surface.

she talks about herself and you talk about yourself too, piquing both your interests. small talk grows into something bigger and you two enjoy the newfound information you’re both learning about each other. you’re breaking the ice, maybe easing into the cold waters in comparison to splashing into it.

“so, about that hickey,” she says, leaning back into the couch, her grin widening as she glances pointedly at your neck. her leg crosses over the other and she holds the glass in her hand near her lips, a small smirk tugging at one corner. “i’m just saying, it looks a little suspicious.”

you roll your eyes, your face heating up again. “it’s not a hickey. i swear.”

“uh-huh,” she teases, clearly not letting it go. “sure it’s not.”

“apparently i hit a broom or wall—something like that.” you shake your head, laughing lightly, but there’s an undeniable pull between you two. 

the way she looks at you, the way her smile lingers a little too long, and the way her knee brushes against yours every now and then—you have to hold yourself back from saying and doing a lot of things. it’s in the way her voice lowers when she speaks, soft and reeling.

you spend the next hour just talking, laughing, sharing random stories about classes, her teasing you about your engineering homework, and you teasing her back about her terrible taste in tv shows. every time she smiles or laughs, it feels like a small victory, something you want to keep chasing. and every time you speak her eyes are in deep contact with yours, spiking your heartrate without fail.

eventually, the conversation lulls, and there’s a moment of quiet where she looks at you, her eyes softening just slightly. “you know,” she murmurs, “i’m really glad you came over. this… was nice.”

“yeah,” you say, smiling back, your heart racing in your chest. “it was.”

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says before sipping on her white wine, “but i’m not a chaser.”

“is that right?”

“unless you count me responding to your apology, then yes.”

you laugh, setting the empty glass down. 

“well,” you begin, biting your lip. “i like to pursue.”

“quite forward isn’t it?”

“you invited me over for wine, it doesn’t get more forward than what you’ve brought to the table.”

“is that so?” sana hums, tilting her head. she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “i think it can get more forward.”

your breath hitches in the slightest and you can tell sana’s noticed when she lets out that signature chuckle. 

“well, i think it’s time to end the night. you were working on assignments prior, no?” you frown at the suggestion.

“i— yeah, you’re right.” 

there’s a knowing smile on her lips, but you ignore it and stand up with her as she walks you to her door. 

“i had a great time pretty girl,” she puts her hand on your forearm while saying it, her touch burning your skin. “hopefully we can be much more forward next time.”

you laugh. “i like the sound of that.”

“mhm, goodnight.” she says, grinning at you before meekly closing her door.

you purse your lips before walking down the hall and reaching your door. your hand lingers on the doorknob before you turn it and head in, feeling a sense of regret.

…

sana hears a knock at her door ten minutes later, turning off the sink and drying her hands before walking over to see what’s up. 

the moment the door opens and sana sees you standing there, the look on her face is priceless.

“what—” she starts, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused, but before she can finish, you step forward, your hand reaching out to grab her forearm gently. you pull her just a little closer, your heart pounding as you look at her.

“i want to be more forward,” you admit, voice low, the question hanging in the space between you.

for a second, she just stares at you, wide-eyed, before a soft laugh escapes her. she gets it now. “oh, we’re moving pretty fast, aren’t we?” she teases, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “take me out to dinner.”

you grin, and she hesitates for a beat, but then she nods, and it’s enough—enough to send your pulse racing, enough for you to lean in. before you can close the distance, though, her hand comes up, fingers lightly brushing the base of your neck, and you feel her shiver as she touches you.

“you say that like,” you pause, observing the surprise and allure in her features. “like you didn’t eye-fuck me the other night.”

her cheeks flush as her fingers linger on your skin, and you catch the way she bites her lip, trying to hide her own smile. you don’t wait any longer.

you lean in and meet her lips with yours, melting into it just as she does. 

it starts soft, just a gentle press of your lips against hers, but it quickly deepens as sana lets out a quiet, surprised sound that turns into something more—something she’s clearly enjoying a little too much. her hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and the way she kisses you back sends a thrill through you.

before you know it, she’s dragging you inside, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other guiding you back toward the couch. the door closes behind you, but you barely notice, too focused on the way her lips move against yours.

when you finally pull back for air, she’s breathless, grinning like she’s just won something. “you should’ve been this forward earlier,” she teases, her thumb brushing against the side of your neck.

“yeah?” you ask, a little breathless yourself, but you can’t stop smiling.

“yeah,” she murmurs, eyes flickering down to your lips before she leans in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. sana is a great kisser, the type of kisser that leaves you wanting more and more. after a moment, she pulls back, just enough to whisper, “maybe you should stay a little longer.”

you can’t help but laugh softly. “you sure you can handle that?”

“please,” she says, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous look. “you weren’t that shy the other night.”

“well i was drunk and—“

before you can even finish your response, she’s kissing you again, and this time, you’re more than happy to let her pull you even closer.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married���strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

[toruro]

— ✧ oh my!

pairing: xu minghao x reader

description: choosing to be roommates with vernon chwe would undeniably be one of the few life-changing decisions you made in your lifetime. he brought along support, friendship, and most importantly: a hot friend. — or, in which you’re roommates with vernon and you happen to fall for one of his many chaotic friends.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), just stupid mutual pining, fluff, seriously self indulgent, mentioned past toxic/controlling relationships

w/c: 13.6k

a/n: REPOSTED. this was my first attempt at a kpop fic ever and my first time writing smut so please bear with how awkwardly written it is. a fic that was supposed to be multiple parts but i couldn't come up with a real plot either so ummm … nevertheless i hope u enjoy!

I. OH MY!

Moving in with Vernon is among your top life changing decisions, pretty much ever.

You two met in college, first sharing a calculus class together and occasionally studying together. Your friendship was budding—he was someone you could count on and never had to second guess. Spending more time together, you naturally grew closer, eventually reaching a point that when Vernon mentioned moving out of his shitty studio, you two immediately decided to find a place together.

Fresh out of college, it was the best decision in all ways possible—money was not nearly as big of a burden as before, and it was fun having a friend to talk to whenever you wanted in the vicinity of your own home.

It’s been an enjoyable eight months since you two started renting out this place together, and this evening, you’re in the kitchen cooking some brownies with an old package of brownie mix you found shoved in the back of one of your cupboards. You’re making a bit of a mess, but you can only hope that Vernon doesn’t mind too much—you will clean it, after all.

You’re in the midst of pondering about how long it’ll take you to clean up the little (big) splatter of flour you dropped on the ground when there’s a buzzing that comes from your phone. You huff, looking down at your fingers that are coated in oil and brownie batter. Setting down the bowl you were mixing, you then go to wash your hands as the buzzing dies out. After wiping down any moisture left on your skin, you pick up the phone to see a missed call from Vernon.

Did he forget something? you wonder, pressing the call back button and holding your phone up to your ear. You hear him pick up the line almost immediately, curious to know why he called you. “Hey,” you say casually when you know he can hear you. “Everything good?”

There are a few voices in the background that you hear, and you recall how he told you this morning he’d be hanging out with his friends. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. Look, I was wondering if it would be okay with you if my friends came over to our place? I would’ve asked earlier but I didn’t think we would be hanging out more and…well you get it,” Vernon sighs.

Your lips make a little ‘o’ shape, nodding to yourself as if Vernon could see you right now. “Yeah of course they can come over!” you tell him.

“Are you sure?” he clarifies, and you smile at the sincerity. “It’s just—I mean like they’re probably going to stay a while?” It comes out as a question and you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me,” Vernon grumbles, “I’m just making sure because they’re probably going to stay late in the night and there’s a lot of them.”

“Yes Vernon, I know there’s a lot of them—twelve to be exact,” you retort. “Yes, I’m okay with it, it’s not like I do anything these days anyways. I’ll be fine,” you tell him honestly.

“Okay, thank you so much,” he replies, relieved. “We’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“Ten?!” you shrieked, quickly taking in the giant mess you made around you, baffled when you think about how you’re going to clean this up.

“Yes, sorry,” Vernon murmurs. “These guys change their minds so much and—ugh—you get it. We’re already close to the apartment complex so we’re just going to come up. Is there a problem?”

You hum, looking around you. “I might’ve made a bit of a mess in the kitchen, but…but I’ll figure it out.”

Vernon laughs. “I doubt they’ll care—most of them are dogs.” You giggle at the muffled protests heard in the background before he continues. “Anyways, thank you, I owe you one. See you in five.”

Your phone beeps when he hangs up and you stand by yourself in the middle of the kitchen. “Five?” you whisper to yourself, “Fuck! He said ten! But now five? Fuck!”

You whip your head around to look at the kitchen, grimacing as you’re dawned with the realization that there is no way you’re going to clean this up before they come. It takes you around 5 seconds to debate your options, finally deciding to just give up on trying to clean up and focus on finishing the batter and getting the pan in the oven.

You set your phone back down on the counter, picking up the batter bowl and giving it a few more stirs to rid it of any clumps before spreading it all out on a pan. It takes you a few moments to find the mittens and stick it in the preheated oven, a wave of relief washing over you when you’re done.

That’s one thing out of the way…I guess , you think to yourself, letting your hair down from the tight up-do you had it in earlier. Looking down at your black t-shirt and yoga pants, you take a few moments to try and dust off whatever flour rubbed off on the cloth. Of course, many stains still remain, but you figured this was better than nothing.

You’re about to grab a broom to clean up the floor when you hear a knock at the door. Sighing in defeat, you wash your hands once before heading to the door. You’re placing your hand on the door knob before you hear some clicking, hesitating to open once you realize it’s Vernon on the other end unlocking it himself. You step back from the doorway as the door is pushed slightly ajar, allowing you to poke your head through the small gap.

You’re met with the sight of multiple guys crowding around the door, a slightly frantic and honestly exhausted-looking Vernon leading the group. “Hey,” he greets as you step back once more, pulling the door open fully.

“That was less than five minutes!” you exclaim, trying your best to ignore the gazes of the unfamiliar faces behind Vernon. You’ve seen pictures of them before on Vernon’s social media and stuff but you don’t really know them at all—you’re only aware of bits and pieces from the stories he tells you occasionally.

“I’m sorry!” he puts his hands up in surrender, stepping through the doorway as you back into the kitchen that remained in the chaotic state you left it in.

“I didn’t have time to clean!” you whine, frantically waving your hand at the kitchen, allowing Vernon to take in the scene.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a new voice pops in and you see a hand snake it’s way around Vernon’s shoulders. A man with blonde hair and a chiseled face looks at you sympathetically. “It’s not Vernon’s fault,” he tells you calmly. “You can blame it on us for changing plans quickly. Don’t worry, Vernon feels bad about it, he told us.”

You sigh, a small pout making its way onto your face. “Fine,” you huff as the rest of the boys fill the large room that contains the kitchen and living room. You aren’t sure what to do now, watching them all shuffle around, taking off their shoes and attempting (key word: attempting ) to organize them in front of the doorway. You hadn’t really thought this far ahead—should you go to your room now? Would it be awkward to just hang around here while they’re in the living room (your kitchen and living room are basically one large room, so there’s no real way to avoid them)?

You’re glad Vernon picks up on your uncertainty. He turns to his friends, speaking up and saying your name, which catches you by surprise. “My roommate,” he clarifies, as they all look at you. You smile awkwardly, giving a small wave before averting your gaze. Vernon then turns around, pointing at the couch across the room, “Now can one of you set up the Mario Kart?”

The rest of the boys nod, beginning to break out into small conversations by themselves as they all make their way to lounge in the connected room, finally giving you a bit of space to breathe (not that they were making you uncomfortable or anything—you’re just a little shy).

“I’m sorry again,” Vernon tells you, and you can hear the genuinity in his voice. “What were you making, by the way?” he asks curiously, peering over at the mess.

“It’s okay! And I was making brownies—I found some old box mixes in the back of the cupboard and I figured I should make them before they expire,” you explain, looking over at his friends who have now settled in the living room comfortably. “Do your friends want some? I’ve made a big enough batch for everyone, I’m sure,” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Vernon can you stop asking me if I’m sure,” you complain loudly, running a hand over your face. You hear a snicker come from the other side of a room, catching sight of one of Vernon’s friends seated on ground, a playful smirk on his face upon hearing your conversation. You feel your ears burn, quickly turning back to Vernon. “Yes, I just made them for fun. It’s better to share with them than have us eat all of it,” you chuckle, picking up a dustpan from the corner of the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

“Okay fine,” Vernon murmurs. “Thank you a lot,” he concludes, finally turning and joining friends on the couch. You begin your work to clean up the flour you dropped on the ground, getting lost in your own little world after slipping in your airpods, tuning out the noises of rowdy men and Mario Kart sound effects.

You’re practically done with cleaning the kitchen when you hear your timer go off, nearly skipping to the oven to turn it off and pull out the pan of brownies you’ve been putting so much effort into. The aroma floats through the room, and you catch the glances of a few of Vernon’s friends who peek over, trying to get a look at whatever you’ve come up with.

You smile to yourself, placing the pan on the counter before pulling out a knife to make nice, even pieces. It takes you a few moments, but once you’re done, you look down at them happily. Slipping on your mittens, you carry the tray over to the living room, a small, upwards curve pulling at your lips.

The boy you remember from earlier—the one who laughed at your reaction to Vernon—notices you first, and you can’t help but wonder how you didn;t recognize him from any pictures because holy hell he’s pretty. His eyes are looking at you through heavy eyelashes and there’s a coy smile tugging at his lips—he’s charming .

It takes you a good five seconds to realize you’re staring at him and another five to realize he’s caught you in the act. You whip your head away, looking at the rest of the boys, some of which who are intently focused on the game on the screen, others of which who are indifferent.

“Um, I made some brownies, if you guys want,” you tell them all, clearing your throat. “They’re fresh, so they’re a little hot, but you can wait for them to cool down.” You set down the pan on the table as the rest of them quiet down, some immediately spewing out words of gratitude.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” one of them asks, and you recognize him as the tallest. Mingyu? You recall some stories about him.

You shrug. “I kind of just made it because we had the boxes left…I think it’d be better if you guys shared it.”

Another boy with glasses sitting on the armchair speaks up. “You can eat it with us—our way of saying thanks,” he encourages. You throw out a close lipped smile, glancing at Vernon as if to ask if this was all just a show of politeness or an actual offer. He offers the slightest nod, and your once tight smile is let loose. You nod your head cheerfully, looking around you to find a spot to sit.

Noticing your confusion, the boy with the blonde hair and sharp face from earlier points to your right. “Sit next to Minghao, I’m sure there’s room there.”

You look down, met with the gaze of him , trying your best to hide your twinge of excitement as you silently shuffle over and sit down at the edge of the rug. Minghao . You like that name, you say to yourself in your head before shaking your head lightly—what are you thinking? You can’t be crushing on a guy you just laid your eyes on!

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head to the screen, grateful to see everyone else’s attention has also averted to the heated one-on-one match between the glasses guy from earlier (you now have learned his name is Wonwoo) and Mingyu.

They’re a loud bunch, but you can’t find it in you to mind—watching them all get along so well, so freely, is liberating in itself. You feel relaxed in a way you didn’t know you could be.

As content as you feel right now though, there’s an anxious thought buzzing at the back of your mind, and no matter how desperately you try to push it back, it keeps crawling its way up, especially when you feel your thigh brush Minghao’s .

Stop it , you chide yourself. Stop it! A little more harshly. Stop thinking about him!

“Hey…” the first time he says it, the words don’t quite reach your ears. “Hey,” he says again, nudging your thigh with his knee, increasing the minimal physical contact you two already had. You’re snapping out of your daze in an instant, whipping your head up to look at him . “You good?” he asks, and while you can tell he’s being sincere, there’s an almost playful smirk gracing his lips.

“Huh…oh, yeah,” you murmur, bashful that he caught you lost in your own head, thinking about him. “Just zoned out for a second,” you explain with an awkward laugh, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your chin on your knees.

“I could tell,” Minghao replies, and you can’t help but gaze at how cool he is as he reaches toward the coffee table, cutting himself a piece of the brownie. You watch him carefully as he takes a bite—you’re honestly just admiring his face, but you think you can brush off your shameless ogling as looking to see if he likes the brownie. He catches you staring, and you’re unsure of what he thinks of it, opening his mouth to talk again once he’s swallowed it. “It’s good,” he tells you, and you smile.

“I’m glad…it would have been kind of embarrassing if it wasn’t.”

“Don’t worry—chocolate isn’t even really my thing but I like it,” Minghao compliments, and you can’t tell if he’s being genuine or faux out of sincerity. Your grin brightens nevertheless as you sink back into the front of the sofa behind you, averting your gaze to the screen once again.

You’re feeling a little shy, of course, and the silence that now sits between you and Minghao isn’t uncomfortable or awkward, rather it’s…heart-warming. Your smile doesn’t leave your face as the room is full of cries and laughter and taunts as the results of the first round are revealed.

You sit in an amused silence, watching them for around another twenty minutes and even getting to play once (albeit your minimal effort—Mario Kart always gives you a headache anyways), before quietly standing up as the boys are cheering over Wonwoo winning yet another match. Minghao looks at you as you raise yourself above him, and your stomach churns at the way he raised a brow.

“Leaving already?”

You shrug casually. “I think it’s about time I get to doing my own stuff,” you explain, throwing out a small smile before retreating to your room before Minghao—or anyone else—can notice or say anything. You’re grateful Minghao didn’t make a scene about you leaving—it’s not that you don’t like the boys (far from it), but you’ve been tired the whole day and were looking forward to a nice nap.

Settling into your bed after shutting your blinds, you pull the covers up to your chin shooting a quick text to Vernon to make sure he wakes you up for dinner if you didn’t wake yourself up in time. You shut your eyes tight, doing your best to ignore the tight feeling that settles at the bottom of your stomach.

The second you identify the feeling, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Your words don’t aid you, of course, because all you’re thinking about his stupid fucking Minghao and his stupidly hot face and his stupidly cute smirk and the stupidly handsome way he looks at you and— oh my god you need to turn your brain off right now.

You settle on not breathing, trying to pretend you’re dead, in hopes it’ll lull you to sleep. Of course, the effect is the opposite of your intentions—the lack of oxygen only reminds you of the way Minghao took your breath away when you first noticed him.

You huff to yourself, rolling your body over so your face is pressed into the pillow as you quietly curse to yourself. “God, I’m so fucked,” you whine, childishly pounding your fists against the plush of your mattress.

You’re being immature, you know you are—like a child throwing a tantrum—but who can blame you? He’s just so pretty and that smile of his is so endearing and you can’t help but find yourself so falling for him.

It’s a miracle that you fall asleep at all, let alone so quickly. You figure the exhaustion from the past week has finally caught up to you, even with the onslaught of attraction that came your way after seeing Minghao.

When you wake up, it’s much darker. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but the sky is painted a deep red which is bound to morph to purple within a few more moments before finally sinking into nighttime. You glance around and you realize that the only thing besides the outside light that’s illuminating your room is your bed lamp that you forgot to turn off.

You rub your eyes a few times, still in a bit of a groggy, drowsy daze, before remembering what woke you up in the first place—the knock on your door. “Hello?” you croak out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth at the mangles sound that leaves your mouth. It’s quiet for a moment and you’re able to identify the faint voices in the rest of the apartment as Vernon’s friends.

Your mind is suddenly racing through the possibility of who could’ve knocked on your door and— oh my god! What if it’s Minghao?! What if he heard y—

You hear your name being called out softly and your speeding train of thought falters. It’s Vernon. Thank fucking god. “You up?” he says through the door and you pull the covers off of you to meet him at the door. Poking your head through the crack as you open it slightly, you squint immediately at the intrusion of light to your unadjusted eyes.

“Good morning,” you joke, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks for waking me up…jeez, I was knocked out,” you murmur to yourself, rubbing a hand over your face as you walk to your dresser to find yourself a comb. “What time is it?”

“It’s like six…the guys were worried that they were being too loud when I told them you were sleeping,” Vernon muses, pulling up his phone to scroll through something. “But I was like nah she sleeps through everything—and I was right,” he says with a laugh as you roll your eyes, trying to make yourself more presentable as you pull your hair back into a low do.

“Whatever…did you guys have fun? I’m assuming so since they’re still here…”

“Yeah, we’re ordering dinner right now. I told you they were gonna stay for a while. That’s why I woke you up too: I was gonna ask if there was anything specific you wanted—if you wanna eat with us of course,” he explains, holding up his phone to display the food delivery app he had opened earlier.

“Would that be okay? If I had dinner with you all?”

“Yeah of course, no one would mind,” Vernon assures you as you look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“You sure?”

“Okay now you need to stop asking me if I’m sure,” Vernon huffs with a roll of his eyes followed by your laughter.

“Okay okay, fine,” you reply. “Give me like two minutes I’ll come out and we can decide something with everyone,” you say, ushering Vernon out. He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around to join his friends in the other room. After he leaves, you debate with yourself whether or not you should change or join the rest with your pajama pants and loose fit t-shirt.

Overcome with the still lingering drowsiness from your nap, you choose comfort, and decide to just throw on a loose cardigan over whatever you’re wearing now before stepping out of the room. A yawn escapes your lips as you enter the living room, catching sight of all the boys lounging around—some are seated on top of the kitchen island, legs hanging over the edge, while others are laying down on the couch with their feet kicked up, the rest with their legs folded on the ground.

You try not to stare at Minghao too much when he enters your line of vision, but the task is becoming impossibly harder the longer you look: he’s laid back on the couch, feet resting on a blonde boy—Jun, you think is his name’s—lap, and you don’t miss the way his arms are crossed behind the back of his head, shirt lifting up just enough to reveal a little bit of the skin that dons his torso.

You begrudgingly peel your eyes away from the marvelous sight when you hear someone call your name, heads turning to you once they realize you’ve finally joined them.

“About time,” the boy with sharp features from earlier—Jeonghan—says as a greeting, waving you over as he stands next to Vernon. “Come on, help us decide what to order.”

“D’you sleep well?” another asks, and you turn your head to see who’s speaking as you approach Jeonghan. You recognize the boy now as Seungkwan, and you smile while nodding. “I swear me and Chan thought you were dead!” he exclaims jokingly as you furrow your eyebrows.

The boy next to him shoots Seungkwan a death stare before speaking up, much to your amusement. “What Seungkwan means is,” Chan begins with a huff, “we were playing a game and Mingyu lost and he yelled and we were scared we woke you up but nothing happened!”

“I told you, she sleeps through everything,” you hear Vernon mumble from behind you, not missing the joking look that’s toying with his face. You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder, loud enough for everyone to hear and cause them to laugh, smiling internally at the reaction you were able to elicit.

“That’s not true!” you whine, looking over his shoulder to see what restaurants they were choosing from.

“Joking, joking,” Vernon mumbles, turning his phone so you could see better. “We’re choosing between Mexican and Thai. You can choose which, since we’re all pretty evenly split.”

You hum for a second, thinking about which you’re craving more, finally settling on, “Thai!”

There are some cheers that erupt behind you, and your face heats up right away when you turn around to see some of them (Minghao in particular) with cheerful smiles and fists of victory in the air. “Thai it is!” Vernon announces. “Tell me what you guys want,” he says before looking at you. “The usual?” you nod with a grin, backing away as he places the order while the others call out the array of dishes you want, making your way to the seating area to sit down by one of the sofas (totally not because that’s where Minghao was sitting).

As you settle down onto the ground, Minghao speaks up. “Do you want to sit here?” he asks, sitting up from his horizontal position, pulling his legs back to make space between him and Jun on the couch. Your eyes shoot up, darting between Minghao’s deep brown eyes and the space on the couch.

“Are you sure? You can lay down if you w—”

“Nonsense,” Jun says with a chuckle, and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on until you feel Minghao’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you up slightly as a direct invitation to take up the spot next to him. God his skin is so soft and his touch is demanding yet so gentle and it’s just enough to get the butterflies that you thought died off to be resurrected once more. “Our way of thanks for choosing Thai,” Jun tells you.

“Yeah,” Minghao agrees, and you try your best to focus on what he’s saying even if it’s impossibly hard with the way his body is pressed up right against you. He leans back as if to stretch his body, arms reaching back behind the couch and settling in the space behind you,

God, you feel like you could die on the spot—it’s not like he’s got an arm wrapped around you or anything so why does this feel so intimate? You can only hope and pray that he doesn’t feel the immense heat radiating off of you as you adjust yourself to sit more comfortably on the couch. In hopes to diffuse the tension that you’re kind of sure you’re the only one feeling, you speak up. “Do you guys want to watch something? A show? A movie?” you suggest reaching forward to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“I’m down,” Wonwoo says with a shrug.

“Oh yeah!” Seungcheol speaks up, “I’ve been wanting to rewatch Batman for a while!”

“Batman then?” you, looking around at everyone as you click the remote to pull it up after you see the nods of their heads. You put on the movie, sinking back into the couch as you do your best to focus on the screen in front of you, and not the faint touch of Minghao’s arm to the back of your neck.

You’re successful for a bit, thankfully, but your peace of mind hardly lasts when the food comes in and everyone settles on the ground to eat—your and Vernon’s rule that there’s no eating curry on the couch. You, Minghao, and Jun slip from your spots on the couch and sit on the ground where your feet lay just a few moments ago, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of the little space you three are squished up against.

It’s a miracle, you think, if Minghao doesn’t notice the way your skin burns against his as his thigh is pressing right up against yours. This touch is different from the one in the afternoon—that one was…light…innocent. This one…this one’s different—it has you burning and yet shivers run down your spine. If you were a little bit more in your senses, maybe—just maybe—you would notice the tight lipped smile that tugs at Minghao’s li ps as well.

Oh my! Now the crush begins.

II. COME TO ME

That night, after the movie, the food, and some beer, the twelve boys shuffle out of the house at around eleven, murmuring soft and tired “thank yous” and “goodbyes.” You can’t deny that you’ve been…a little stiff the entire evening. Sitting next to Minghao for a good 2 hours wore you out—it was a constant battle between your moral consciousness and your…budding feelings.

Stop looking at him! You’d say one moment, but then, god—oh my god his hands! No! Stop! He’s so close to me —stop acting like you’re in middle school! But his smile is just so pretty, god he lights up the room , but wait, stop being so cliche!

Naturally, you're convinced you’ve gone insane. Once the boys left, you and Vernon are left in the comfort of each other’s silence before beginning to make small conversation as you guys begin to clean up (the others honestly didn’t leave that much of a mess, you were just a bit of a clean freak).

“Your friends are fun,” you tell him quietly as you throw out the food containers that you finished earlier.  Vernon looks up at you with a small smile, and you can tell that he’s been anxious about you not enjoying your time.

“That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Why haven’t you brought them over before?” you ask curiously, pondering about how there might have been a chance you could have laid your eyes on Minghao ages earlier. “Aren’t they like your best friends?”

Vernon shrugs. “Well yeah, they are, but there’s a lot of them, like you saw. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with that, today just happened to be a day where it was hard for me to say no to them.” You laugh heartily at that—the image of Vernon being persuaded by twelve guys looking at him with puppy eyes. “I really am glad you liked them though. If it’s okay I’d like to have them over more,” he puts out tentatively.

Of course, you perk up at that—maybe a little too noticeably. “I’d love that!” you say excitedly, before shrinking back down at how eager you sound. “I mean like, of course I won’t barge on your time with them but they’re really fun to be around and I’d like to see them more often,” you explain, placing your hands on the counter now that you’re done cleaning all the dishes. Vernon seems to catch onto something and you want to die from embarrassment with the way he’s raising a brow at you.

But if he does notice anything, he doesn’t say it, instead choosing to shrug again and trudge away from the kitchen. “That’s great. Can I have them over next Saturday?”

You blink once then blink twice. “Of course,” you reply without a second of hesitation.

Saturday can't come soon enough. With your own work to do, you find your mind drifting constantly to the face of a pretty man who you can't seem to stop thinking about. You need to scold yourself every single time you realize you're daydreaming—god no, more like fantasizing—about a man who you've not only seen only once, but is one of your roommate's best friends.

Daunting as it is, you're finding this whole situation quite...fun. You can't remember the last time you've felt something so pure and rejuvenating as this crush—gosh, you feel childish for calling it that but what else can it be? Your heart palpates when you think about him, your eyes ache to see his beautiful face again, and holy hell you don't even want to get started on the raw goosebumps you get when reimagining the moment where his skin brushed up against yours.

It's Friday night now, and your stomach swims with anticipation of what tomorrow will hold. You're sitting on the couch in your living room when Vernon comes home from the gym, dropping a bag of food on the kitchen counter. "Hey, I was at the gym with Mingyu and he got me some leftovers that his mom made," he tells you as you look up at him.

"Oh sweet," you say, relieved you won't have to go through the effort of figuring out what to make for dinner. "Your friends are coming over tomorrow, right?" you ask, feigning nonchalance—fucking acting like tomorrow hasn't been the only thing on your mind for the past one week.

"Yeah, they're gonna come up pretty early actually. I was gonna ask you actually, if you wanted to come with us since we're planning on going to the beach later. It's gonna be pretty hot and we haven't gone down in a while," he explains, beginning to open the bag of food as you get up and join him, trying to ignore the endless thoughts that run through your mind.

"The beach? Of course I'd want to come—wait, would that be okay with them? I wouldn't wanna intrude in on your day."

Vernon shakes his head with a chuckle. "Oh my god can you stop?" he says jokingly, "they were the one's who suggested, actually. Not that I don't want you to come either—I do—I just want you to know that they enjoyed you being there last week just as much as you did."

"Really? Who suggested it?" You hope you aren't coming off as too curious—Vernon is perceptive, and you'd be a fool to think he couldn't figure out exactly why you're so insistent on figuring out who asked for you to be there.

He seems preoccupied though, taking the food out of the containers, much to your relief. "Uhh, it was Minghao I think. But like everyone agreed after that, Jeonghan even said he'd pay for your ice cream if you came."

You're convinced the universe is bullshitting you right now. Minghao? Your Minghao? Asked if you could join them? At the beach?

You might just pass out.

Naturally, Vernon looks at you funny. "Are you good? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

You shake your head nervously with a smile, turning back to grab a piece of fried chicken he pulled out. "No no, I was just thinking about if I even have any swim suits—I think I threw them out last summer because of Jungho," you murmur, and while it's not the full truth about what you were just thinking about, it is something that's on your mind. Vernon looks at you with a frown.

"You threw them out because of Jungho?" he asks sadly. "Fucking hell, I forgot how crazy he was," he murmurs, looking down to take his own bite of the food. You shrug solemnly, finding yourself in a mood a bit more down than you'd like.

"Weird times," you reply simply. "Think I could just go to the beach in like some shorts and a shirt? It's just water after all."

"Yeah that should be fine. We'd be leaving before noon so I don't think you'd have the time to buy new ones anyways," Vernon agrees, pushing himself off the counter.

You nod with a smile, ignoring the small pang of sadness you felt just moments ago. "Sounds good."

You're a heavy sleeper—you always have been—and given that it's a Saturday, it's no question that you're bound to sleep until Vernon is banging your door to make sure you aren't dead. Seriously. Saturday morning, despite your excitement, kicks off with a groggy start. You're rolling around in bed, ming hazy as you aimlessly try and figure out what time it is and what exactly woke you up since you know you don't set alarms for weekends. It takes a few seconds for the knocking on your door to register in your brain.

You blink once and rub your eyes, squinting so that they can adjust to the light as you peer at the clock, realizing that—shit, oh shit, it's almost 11. Didn't Vernon say that his friends were going to be here in the morning?! And that they were gonna leave before noon?! Shit!

You're scrambling out of bed, digging through your drawer as you call out a meek, "I'n up!" to whoever's knocking on your door, throwing on the only swim suit that you—thankfully—found tucked away in your closet the night before, covering it up with some shorts and a loose top that you picked earlier as well. You're quickly faced with realization that you still look like you just rolled out of bed which, to be fair, you had. That doesn't stop you from frantically brushing through your hair, trying to put it into a simple braid before finally feeling ready to open the door.

You're expecting to see Vernon, in all honesty, since that's how it went the last time they were all over. The man standing in front of your door is, in fact, definitely not Vernon. No, the man in front of your door is Xu fucking Minghao, and you think you're absolutely fucked by the way your knees go week.

"Hi, sorry, I hope I didn't rush you," he greets politely, stepping back, allowing you to take a good look at him. He's wearing a white sleeveless shirt that hugs hugs his body tightly, followed by a blue hawaiian shirt that sits loosely on his upper half. His lower half is adorned by simple swim trunks, and you do your very, very best to not stare at his calf muscles.

"I, uh..." your voice trails off, in a haze from how attractive he is as well from your fading drowsiness. You rub your eyes once under your glasses before responding. "It's okay, I don't know why I didn't get up earlier," you huff to yourself, looking down, "I thought I would."

"Don't worry about it," Minghao murmurs, and he brings a hand up to your head on top of your hair to ruffle it a bit. You might just scream. "It's good that you slept," he continues, walking back to the living room as you follow him. "We thought you'd wake up from how loud we were," he says with a chuckle as you enter the room with everyone else in it as they turn to you.

"Yeah," Seokmin agrees through a mouth full of muffin, Joshua lightly hitting his shoulder and chiding him for talking with his mouth full.

"She's awake!" Jeonghan cheers playfully.

"i know Vernon said you'd sleep through anything," Chan begins to admit, "but literally do not understand how you didn't wake up until now. I swear, there was a moment where Soonyoung was just screaming at the top of his lungs and we were all wondering if that was gonna get you to come out but Vernon didn't even bother to check."

Your face burns at the comment, but there's a warm sort of feeling that bubbles up in you when they all laugh—it's not a mean laugh, no, it's friendly and it's kind, and it's making you feel welcome.

"You guys just don't listen to me," Vernon huffs, tossing you an orange from the kitchen. "We're going to head out in like five minutes," he tells you. "We need to figure out the car situation because I think Wont's car and Joshua's can only five each and mine can hold four."

The next few minutes are spent trying to figure out who's going to go in which car, everyone deciding that Seungcheol, Seokmin, Chan, and Jun would be going in Wonwoo's, Jeonghan, Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Minghao would be going in Joshua's, and Mingyu, Seungkwan, and you would be going in Vernon's. You won't and say that you aren't a teensy bit disappointed that you don't get to sit with Minghao, but the beach is only a twenty minute's drive away anyways, and you feel this is also a chance to get to know Vernon's other friends better too.

The car ride is fun, and you enjoy Seungkwan's cheeky remarks to everything, laughing along to pretty much everything he says, as well as Mingyu's oddly calm hyperness...? You aren't sure how to explain it but there's a constantly endearing and jumpy aura radiating from the tall boy, yet he seems quite tame for the most part. Nevertheless, you're entertained and excited to spend more time with them as Vernon parks the car on the beach, pulling out his phone so he can figure out where the other's are.

"Ah" you murmur, as the fourteen of you are grouped up finally, making your way into the hot sand and towards the water. "This is like the perfect weather for the beach," you say, wiggling out of your slippers so you can walk on the sand with your bare feet. Seungkwan is standing next to you as you both trail behind the rest of the crowd a little, the both of you immersed in the warm feeling of sand between your toes.

"I love the beach," he says, throwing his head back to look up at the bright side. "I'm from a beach town, so when I found out that the beach—and all my friends—were here, I just had to move here too, you know?"

"The beach is nice, but I won't lie, it always makes me so exhausted after I spend a day out here," you admit, dragging your feet across the sand, basking in the hot feeling it brings. "Who knows, I'll probably go home and sleep so hard tonight that even Vernon might think I'm dead," you joke, causing Seungkwan to chuckle.

You two continue to talk about the beach and Seungkwan's home town as your group nears the water, everyone beginning to set up their towels and the picnic blankets you bought. Everyone helps out, and before you know it, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Seungkwan are ripping off their shirts and running towards the water. You watch them with amusement, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and shirt.

Vernon looks at you, speaking, "You were able to get a swim suit?" he asks, confused considering your conversation with him last night. You smile somewhat sadly, and Minghao, sitting next to Vernon, can't help but notice.

"Uh, not really," you mumble, looking down at your black bikini. "I think Jungho just never knew about this one so I didn't get rid of it, and it was just shoved in the back of my closet or something. Anyways, I'm burning and I really want to get into the water," you conclude, turning around without giving Vernon a chance to respond.

As you run off into the water, Minghao turns and looks at Vernon him. "Who's Jungho?" he asks, shameless about his curiosity.

Vernon frowns as soon as he hears the name, and Minghao wonders just what kind of person this Jungho guy might be. "Just some ex. A really shitty one," Vernon murmurs, looking out at the sun. Minghao feels something uneasy churn inside of him. He gives Vernon that look, which tells him he wants to know more. "Like he just sucked. Didn't treat her right and shit. I didn't like him at all. None of her friends did. He tried to get her to throw out all of her swim suits and stuff because he didn't trust her at the beach or some bullshit like that."

"Goddamn," Minghao hisses, leaning back on his hands as he watches you play in the water. You looked like you were having so much fun—you were so at ease. He wants to chide himself for looking at the way your skin glistens in the sun, your bikini hugging your body in all the right places and in all the right ways. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially when he's only just met you a week ago, but that isn't to say he hasn't missed your quick glances. The way your eyes dart towards him, his body, his eyes, his lips, and quickly jump away when you realize he's caught you.

You feel the same way, he's sure of it. Minghao knows you feel the same tingles, the same sparks, the same rush of pure happiness when you see each other.

His thoughts are interrupted by Joshua speaking. "He made her throw out her swim suits?" he exclaims incredulously. "Insecure much," he mutters under his breath, and Minghao laughs along with that. "Good thing he's just her ex now—that sounds horrendous."

"Agreed," Minghao replies while Vernon nods, standing up to pull off his hawaiian shirt and top. "I'm gonna go into the water," he tells the rest of his friends before jogging lightly, following in your faint footsteps.

You're feet hit the water, and you stop in your tracks as you take a few moments to get used to the temperature change. You're looking up to see Seungkwan and Jeonghan waving you over to around twenty feet further into the water, but you call out to them to tell them to wait a second as you just melt in the feeling of the water against your toes. You stand there for a few moments before you hear a familiar voice coming up from behind you.

Oh. My. God.

You don't even want to turn around because you're scared of your reaction to seeing him shirtless—god, you aren't even sure if you'll be able to contain yourself! You think if you pass out, you'll just have to blame it on the heat, but still, how are you going to be—

"Hey," Minghao says cooly, stepping next to you in the water and holy crap, he's toned and he's practically glowing in the sunlight, the shadows hugging every peak and curve of his chest, his arms, his hands, his collarbone, his v-line—oh my god you need to stop. Practically ripping your eyes away from the wondrous view that is Minghao's body, you're forcing yourself to look up at his eyes (not that it's any less of a view—his eyes sparkle just as much as he does).

"H-hi." Did you just stutter? No fucking way you just stuttered. You think you might have to drown yourself right now. "I thought you were going to stay around with the others a bit longer," you say sheepishly. Minghao smirks at you, and he thinks now is his chance to try and fluster you up a bit more.

"Well I can't just let a pretty girl go into the ocean by herself, now can I?" he replies smoothly, taking a few steps in front of and waving you to follow him, and you would only if you hadn't just stopped breathing. How could he say that so casually!? How could he—wait. Wait! He just called you a pretty girl. He thinks you're pretty. Xu fucking Minghao finds you pretty, and he's saying it to your fucking face. You actually might die right now.

You can't even formulate a response, just tearing your gaze away from him and smiling shamelessly at the ground as you follow behind him slowly. Mission accomplished, Minghao thinks to himself, and something inside of him goes batshit crazy by seeing you so smiley and undone.

"W-whatever," you finally say as the water near to your hips as you two start nearing the others guys who are currently splashing each other with water. Minghao watches them, and get an idea, playfully splashing some water your way. You jump back quickly, eyes widening before you gasp. "You did not!" You quickly splash water back, but Minghao seems to see it coming and he moves out of the way. "Get back here!" you yell, running after him as he nears Mingyu, hiding behind the larger boy. With your eyebrows, you pay no mind to this, continuing to splash water everywhere, hoping that at least some of it will get on Minghao.

Mingyu puts his hands up, eyes scrunched up as he tries to block the water that's inevitably going his way. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Not me! Not me!" he cries out as the others laigh.

"Get Minghao!" you call out to the other boys who catch on quickly, joining you on your rampage against Minghao. Eventually there's just so much water splashing everywhere that within minutes you're all spent, gasping for air as you all try to rub the water away from your eyes. Once your vision is no longer blurry, you blink hard a few last times before turning your vision towards Minghao again and holy hell, you didn't think he could look any hotter than he did sitting in the sun but wow. His hair is wet and hanging low on his forehead but it's so messy and so hot and all you can think about is running your fingers through those locks yourself and making a mess in your own little way and—okay stop, you can't be thinking about this, especially not in public.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm yourself down before you're laughing with the other guys as they start to play a new game. You try to ignore the butterflies you get whenever you near Minghao, but it's a painfully hard task. You grow to accept the feeling as the minutes go on, simply existing alongside the bubbly feeling instead of pushing it down.

The next hour is spent in and out of the water, everyone else eventually joining those of you in the water, and you find that time is passing faster than you can even think. Time with them is fun, it's carefree, it's liberating, it's refreshing. Once you're all too tired and too spent, you're trudging back to the little spot you all have set up as everyone begins to pull out the food they packed. As you snack on your lunch, the fourteen of you sit in a circle and talk about the plans for the rest of the day.

"Let's play beach volleyball," Wonwoo suggests after everyone's finished eating, and it's no doubt that everyone else pretty much agrees immediately.

"Yeah, I saw a court in that direction, and I'm sure we'd be able to find a ball," Jihoon adds on as everyone stands up.

"I think i'll stay behind," you tell them all, leaning back on your hand as you fan your face with the other. "I'm kind of tired and I think I just need to sit down for a bit," you explain.

"That's okay, but you sure you won't be lonely," Vernon clarifies as he stands up.

You shake your head, but right before you're going to respond, Minghao speaks up. "Don't worry about her, I'll stay behind too." God, someone save you—your poor heart can't take much more of this.

"Oh okay, great!" Joshua says happily, the others standing up as well to go follow Jihoon to the volleyball court. "Catch you later!" You and Minghao wave at the rest as the drift off into the distance before being left in the silence that sits between you.

Minghao speaks first. "It's nice that you came, it's refreshing to have someone new, especially if they're like you."

You raise a brow at him, turning your body so that you're completely facing him, legs crossed as you lean forward. "Like me? What does that mean?"

Minghao gives you a sly smile, like he was expecting this. "Fun. Easy-going." He pauses. "Pretty."

"Is this your way of flirting or do you just enjoy being very direct about what you're thinking."

He laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Nice one. Those two are actually the same thing for me, so take that as you see it," he says with a shrug. You're face is on fire, and you're sure he can tell by now. Minghao catches on and he leans forward. "Is it working?"

"Maybe it is," you murmur nonchalantly.

"I think it definitely is," he shoots back with yet another smirk. God, you can't do this anymore. He's just so close to you and you don't know if it's because it's hot or if you're flustered or whatever but you're burning and not thinking straight and before you know it you're leaning in so close that you can feel Minghao's soft breath on your lips, stopping right before you two can connect.

It's the silent words now: kiss me, kiss me Minghao, and you almost think that this is true love when he leans in immediately after, heeding your silent requests.

Minghao's lips are plump and soft and taste slightly salty from the remains of the ocean water, in contrast to the sweet way he's got one hand cupping your chin. His thumb strokes at your skin and the touch is so light that you think you might go insane, gripping onto one of his biceps as you try to ground yourself in reality—in this moment, that you're scared might almost just be a figment of your imagination.

News-flash, it's not. In fact, this moment is very much real, very much happening, and very much one of the closest things to heaven you've experienced.

When you pull away, his hand is still on your chin and yours still rests on his arm. "I won't lie," you whisper, "I've been thinking about doing that all week."

"Me too," Minghao admits almost immediately, the revelation sending both shock and relief coursing through your veins. You let go of his arm, finally, and he drops his hold too, but you scoot closer to him so you're not sitting side by side as you face the ocean. "We shouldn't do anything else right now," he says quietly, and you know he doesn't have to say to know what you're both thinking. "I don't think you'd want the others seeing anything."

"You're right," you say with a nod, but you still interlace his fingers that are next to you with yours on the ground. Minghao squeezes your fingers back slightly in confirmation that this is very much okay. "Do you want to get something to eat? I saw some people selling fruit on our walk through the sand," he suggests after a few moments. You nod along, shuffling through the pile of clothes that are everywhere so you can find your shorts—it's sp warm out right now that your skin and swim suit have already dried off.

While you're fishing out your shorts and slipping them on, Minghao finds his hawaiian t-shirt and slips it on, although his bare chest is still very much on display, despite your poor heart's cries for him to cover it up—no! Don't let anyone else see! You blush bashfully at your newfound jealousy of others seeing Minghao the same way you do, but those thoughts are soon pushed away as he reaches out a hand to you to help you stand up. You grab his hand with a smile, following after him as you both head toward the fruit stands at the front.

"What do you want to get?" he asks you when he sees you squinting to try and see what they're selling.

"Pineapple!" you cheer when you realize one of the stands has your favorite fruit, and Minghao can feel his heart swell at the sound. "Can we please get pineapple? It's my favorite fruit and it's the best for hot days."

Minghao smiles and nods, and your heart nearly pops out of your chest. "Pineapple and mango?" he suggests as you stand in front of one of the stalls, pulling out his wallet. You nod before thinking for a moment, pulling out your own wallet before he has a hand a hand on your waist, pushing it away. "I'm paying," and it's not a question when he says it. You slowly push your wallet back into your pocket, mind racing with the thoughts of how a man can be as perfect as Minghao.

"Okay well," you reply, pulling your wallet back out in defiance, "I want to buy some fruits for the others too," you explain. "And I don't think it's fair for you to pay for all of that."

Minghao huffs, letting go of your wrist before turning back to guy at the stall. You two end up splitting the cost of five cups of fruits before returning to the set up on the sand that you have with your arms much fuller than before. Back once you're both sitting, you chat about whatever and you definitely forget how to breathe the multiple times that Minghao picks up a toothpick and feeds you the fruits himself. There's something so domestic and so comforting about the way you both smoothly speak, move, flow—being with Minghao is languid and despite your racing heart at the thought of being with him, you feel...relaxed.

This feels right.

After around an half an hour of talking, you find yourself laying on your back as you have Vernon's hat on top of your head as you listen to the ocean. "Should we go to find them? They'll probably be hungry by now and beach volleyball is starting to sound fun," you say, sitting up and readjusting Vernon's cap on your head.

"Bored of me already?" Minghao teases, sitting up as well, readjusting his shirt.

You roll your eyes. "You know that isn't it. The fruit isn't gonna taste as good later, even if we keep it in the cooler. It tastes better fresh," you reason.

"Fine fine," he murmurs in defeat and you grin, getting up to pick up two of the cups of fruit while Minghao grabs the other two.

"You know where they went?" you ask him, looking to your left and right, trying to recall which direction the boys left in.

"This way I think," Minghao says, pointing to your left and you squint, nodding excitedly when you see some volleyball courts in the far distance.

"Wow, that's pretty far," you think out loud as you both start walking in that direction.

"Can't handle it?" he coos, looking down at you as he takes his effortlessly long strides.

You scoff, turning your head away as you feign nonchalance. "Whatever."

"I'm joking," Minghao says quickly, reaching one hand over to pick up the cups of fruit your holding so that he's holding all four now. You're about to protest but he simply turns his arms away from you so they're out of your reach.

"Thank you," you say sheepishly, holding your hands behind your back as you two begin to speed up your pace when you both realize that the fruit will grow warm soon. It takes around seven to eight minutes for you guys to reach the volleyball courts, calling out to Vernon when you reach hearing range. "We brought fruit!" you yell, pointing at the cups that Minghao graciously carried for you.

The boys run over, almost all of them in a panting, sweating mess.

"It's like you read our minds," Seungcheol tells you and Minghao, picking a strawberry and stuffing it into his mouth.

Seokmin nods along, picking up a piece of mango. "We were just talking about how we're already hungry again."

"Yeah," Chan agrees, "and I think Mingyu was gonna pass out in the next five minutes if you didn't bring him something to eat." You all look at Mingyu who's sitting across from you, legs out and upper body leaning on his arms behind him as his face is scrunched up—he nearly looks like he's dying.

"Fuck you all!" he groans, falling back onto the sand. "I swear, Jun and Cheol were targeting me! They kept hitting the ball in my direction!"

Jun laughs at that, throwing a hand up to Seungcheol for a high-five. "Damn, I didn't think you'd catch on."

"How could I not!?" Mingyu whines, sitting up again to pick up another fruit. "I was on the verge of the death because of you guys."

Jeonghan ticks his tongue as everyone laughs, "Ah, don't be so dramatic Gyu, we were just having fun. Plus, who doesn't want to win."

Mingyu grumbles as he kicks some sand Jeonghan's way as everyone retreats back into the normal conversation of the plans next. After a few moments of discussion, you all decide to go back to your set up and stay there until sunset before heading home.

Once you all make your way back, the hours are spent chatting, building a moat (Mingyu and Chan seemed especially interested in this for some reason), and playing in and out of the water. As the sky begins to merge from blue to yellow to a deep orange, you begin cleaning up. At the moment, you aren't sure who brings it up, but the word "sleepover" gets thrown around and everyone is practically on their knees, asking to sleep over at Vernon and your place.

"Why our place?" Vernon complains. "Why not Minghao and Jun's? Or Joshua and Jeonghan's?" he begins throwing out the other's names.

"Because we like yours the most," Joshua says simply, everyone nodding their heads vigorously in agreement. Vernon huffs and looks at you for help, but you only shrug—you aren't sure how to respond to this and you aren't going to pretend like you aren't a teensy bit excited about the chance of Minghao spending the night (even though there'll be 12 other guys in your home).

"You guys owe us," Vernon finally says with a deep sigh, "big time."

The car ride back begins by Vernon, Joshua, and Wonwoo yelling at all of the passengers to not get sand into the car, and while you all desperately try to heed by their wishes, it's nearly impossible. You should've expected that nothing with this group is ever especially peaceful, but you're pleasantly surprised by how every event with them somehow has you bursting into laughter until your stomach hurts.

When you all return to your apartment, it takes a messy, chaotic hour or two for everyone to sort out when they would be taking showers, realizing that you should have planned this better once you knew that fourteen people would be scrambling to try and use your and Vernon's single shower. Once you're all washed up, you're left sitting in the living room, trying to figure out how you're going to pass the next few hours. Of course, one brings up Mario Kart, and suddenly they all perch against the couch trying to see who can beat Wonwoo.

It's now when you start to feel the exhaustion of the day catch up to you, recalling how you told Seungkwan that beach days make you tired. You excuse yourself to your room, locking the door behind you before slipping under the covers and nuzzling against the pillow.

In the silence—well not really silence, since apartment walls are thin and boys are loud, but still—of your own room, you find yourself catching a moment for you to properly think. And then it all comes crashing onto you.

Minghao. His lips, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his fingers, his lips (yes, his lips again), his touch, his gaze—and holy hell do you need more. You almost whine out loud into the sheets at the thought of having to wait for him any longer, your brain fuzzy from both your exhaustion and the tingling feeling that courses through your nerves.

Your mind races through the endless possibilities of what has happened and what can happen and before you know it you're falling asleep.

It's two hours later at around 8pm when you hear your phone buzzing by your chest, hardly lifting your head to see who it is. When you recognize the caller as Vernon, you hit the answer button, putting minimal effort into lifting the phone up to your ear as you grumble.

"God, do you ever stop sleeping?" he huffs on the other end, and you can faintly hear someone in the background laugh. You rub your eyes as you push yourself out of bed, rummaging through your drawer to pick out a cardigan to throw on.

"Sorry," you grumble with a yawn. "Beach days make me tired."

"I can see that. Anyways, we're in the living room ordering takeout, so hurry up if you want to have your choice," he threatens playfully.

"Alright alright," you mumble, trying to make your bed a little neater before leaving your room and heading towards the living room. They're all there, as expected, some movie playing on the TV as Jihoon is playing something on the guitar (where the hell did he get a guitar from?!) and Wonwoo and Mingyu are playing yet another game of Mario Kart on the Switch tablet.

"And she's here!" Chan exclaims, causing some eyes to turn to you. Minghao, sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen island turns to you quickly, and the eye contact has you turning into mush immediately.

"When you went to your room," Vernon begins to say, distracting you from your thoughts and placing a hand on your shoulder, "I thought you were just going to chill for a bit. I didn't expect you to be napping."

Seungkwan comes in and swats Vernon's hand away from you. "You're so judgemental Sollie! Let her be!"

"Thank you Seungkwan!" you agree immediately, turning to raise an accusing eyebrow at Vernon. He rolls his eyes and steps away, holding up his phone which has the food order on the front screen.

"Hey, I'm ordering your food!"

You step back, putting your hand sup in surrender. "Okay fine! Fine! What are we getting tonight?"

"Mexican!" Jeonghan calls out. "It's my treat!" Everyone cheers as you tell Vernon your order, sitting down on the ground in the living room as everyone bunches up in the middle to begin discussing the next big problem you all have—sleeping.

It seems like no one quite thought this out earlier but your apartment is small and fitting fourteen people into this space seems near impossible, especially when you know that they'll all insist on you sleeping alone in your own room. It's a hassle to pull out all the extra pillows and bed sheets that you have, everyone trying to clear space to make as many makeshift beds on the ground as they can.

Somehow, you're all able to fit eight "beds" in the living room, Chan and Seungkwan being the lucky ones to squeeze into the extra space that Vernon has left on his bed and Jun and Jihoon calling the spots on the sofa and arm chair. From there on out, time seems to pass easily with the thirteen of them, and you're starting to understand how Vernon's been able to be their friend for so long. The hours pass quickly and by ten p.m., you're spent and tired from the day—too tired to go on.

Before you know it, you're helping them all make the final touches to the makeshift beds, bringing out as many extra comforters as you can in hopes to make sleeping on the ground a bit more comfortable. Bidding goodnight, you wave to them all and retreat to your room, but not before staring at Minghao for maybe a little too long. He stares back, of course, and anyone else would miss it, but you don't—the way he nods slightly, before turning away to say something to Jun.

III. OUR DAWN IS HOTTER THAN DAY

It's eleven when you hear the knock on your door, and it's embarrassing how quickly you scramble out of bed to open it. On the other side, as expected, is Minghao. You're pulling him in without a second of hesitation, grabbing his neck and slamming his lips onto yours hard. His hands are making their way onto his hips immediately, moving up and down along your waist and torso to feel every inch of you that he can. You've both been waiting for this for ages, and it's about time you lose control.

"Hao," you whine softly as he presses you into your wall, his tongue running against the corner of your mouth. His only response is kissing you deeper, teeth clashing as you seek to explore every last bit of each other. Minghao swears he feels his dick twitch at the way you call him by his nickname, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

"You'll drive me crazy," he murmurs, kissing down your neck as you run your hands up and down his arms to feel the curve of his arms.

"That's the—ah—plan," you grunt as you sucks at one spot on your skin. Minghao continues peppering your skin with kisses before you feel like enough his enough, intertwining your fingers in his hair and pulling his head up so he can look at you. "Can I suck you off?"

Minghao is, undeniably, taken aback by your forwardness, and while his head his telling him to take his time with you right now, his other head is telling him to give in. In any other situation with any other girl, he would be denying you, taking his time to at least finger you first but he's been too pent up and too horny since the first time you kissed him to say no.

You're surprised when he quickly nods—you aren't the type to dive right into this kind of stuff but Minghao has been doing something that's reconnecting the wires in your brain, causing the overwhelming urge to sink to your knees for Minghao to crash into you.

The second you're on your knees, you have your hands on the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down at once with his boxers to reveal his length, long and pretty and hard with a bead of pre-cum dribbling off the end. You reach up, holding the base with a hand as you look up at Minghao to meet his eyes.

"Fucking hell," he groans, throwing his head back before you reply with a hiss.

"Quiet! They can't hear," you remind him, before adjusting yourself on your knees so you're in a better position to prod his tip at the front of your mouth. You drink in the way Minghao's breath hitches as your lips wrap around him, tongue swiping at the tip softly before pulling back.

"Don't—" he takes a deep breath, "don't be a fucking tease."

"'m sorry," you mumble, pulling your head back. "Can't help it." You kind of mean it and you kind of don't. Honestly, you aren't sure what to think—all you want to do is make Minghao feel good and do it now. Minghao notices the desperate glint in your eyes, and he takes this chance to wind his fingers into your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail so he can move your face in the face that he wants. The thought has you both going down into a spiral.

Minghao looks down at you so intensely that you think you just might cum from the look alone, but then he's speaking. "You okay with this?" he asks quietly, running a thumb along your lower lip with the hand that's not holding your hair back.

"Yes," you reply almost instantly, and your eagerness has his eyes darkening—you can see it.

"Fuck," he groans, leaning back again while he takes your hand that isn't wrapped around his length up to his thigh. "Tap twice if you want me to stop, 'kay?" You nod quickly, hoping Minghao will get the idea that you're beginning to grow impatient.

Message received, it seems because before you know it, Minghao is guiding your mouth back to the tip of his length, so you can take him in. Once you have your lips wrapped around him, he pushes you forward more, causing your eyes to widen as you realize he's nearly hitting the back of your throat. You take this as your chance to do exactly what you've been aching for, and you begin to bob your head back and forth.

The moan Minghao lets out is near perfection, and you're immediately encouraged to push more, to push deeper, to do whatever it takes to make him make that sound again. You're about to do it again before you feel your hair being tugged so that you're fully pulled off his cock. "Fuck," he chokes out, looking down at the sight of you with red, puffy lips and blown-out eyes. "Do that again," he demands, and you don't waste a second before you wrap your mouth around him and push down as far as you can. His hand is pushing at the back of your head, his soft words from above encouraging you to go harder to go deeper because you're his angel and he knows you can do it.

God, the words that are spilling out of his mouth are downright filthy but they're messing with your head and before you know it your moving your head back and forth in sync with Minghao's hips that are snapping forward slightly, causing him to batter the back of your throat. It's not the most comfortable feeling but the discomfort definitely not what you're thinking about when you hear Minghao's pants—his soft groans that escape his lips now that you've got him so desperate.

There's drool running down your chin and it's so messy but it's so hot and it has your pussy aching but you can't even think of relieving yourself—not when you can feel the vein on the understand of his dick against your tongue, not when his hand is laced in your hair with such a tight hold you think you might just pass out, not when you know he's so close to his release within minutes all because of you. "Fuck," he grunts again, snapping his hips once more, particularly harder and sloppier this time. "I'm gonna—fuck, I'll come soon."

Your jaw is aching by now but it doesn't compare to the throbbing you feel in your panties—god, you're going to go crazy. You use your hand to rub whatever of his length you can't fit in your mouth, using these last few moments to let Minghao jut his hip and shove your mouth further onto him and holy hell do you love it. You can feel it coming with the way he twitches inside your mouth and you can tell he's about to come when he pulls you off of him, before you're opening your mouth wide again, eyes silently begging him: inside my mouth.

It's like earliedirtr, when you kissed, except now it's so much more frantic, so much more ecstatic—Minghao hears your silent requests and only takes a second to push himself back into your mouth. You only need to suck once or twice before you feel it in your mouth—his cum, hot and shooting down your throat. He pulls out after that, you taking a second to swallow and then lick the glossy tip, your body filling with pride at the way you see his leg twitch.

"God—fuck," Minghao finally manages to say between sputtered breaths, "You're so hot." He pulls you up by the arm as he slips his boxers and shorts back on, placing a hand on your hip as he brings you up for a fierce kiss. Your lips are all swollen and Minghao is extra gentle with the way he runs his tongue along them, kissing you so softly you almost forget that he just face-fucked you less than a minute ago. He's pressed up against the wall right now, but takes this moment to flip you both so it's you who's leaning back.

Minghao pulls away from your lips, chuckling at the way yours chases his in the few seconds after, before connecting his lips to your neck like earlier. "Let me give you something in return, yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree, nodding dumbly the second you feel his hand slip down your shorts, ghosting over your panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans as he pressed down through your panties.

"Hao," you moan, as he rubs little circles on your clit over the fabric, "please, please, hurry." Minghao chuckles and usually you'd be embarrassed but then again, there's nothing usual about getting fingered by your roommates best friend while all of his friends are asleep in the next room over. Minghao still is going slow with you, taking an extra moment to slowly push your panties aside. You're growing so impatient, the throbbing between your legs getting so impatient, that you think you might start sobbing. "I've been so good, Hao, please? I wanna cum," you beg, meeting Minghao's eyes as you look up at him.

God, you're doing something to him, he thinks—you might just be the death of him. You just look so cute and so desperate and the way your eyes are already glossy has his dick hard again. The fact that he didn't even have to ask  you to beg for him is more than enough for a million thoughts to be racing through his mind, but in all honesty, the only thing he wants to focus on right now is making you come.

"Angel, fuck," he murmurs, into your skin, placing a kiss on your collarbone as he uses one hand to lift your shirt up to your neck so he can hold one of your tits, the other hand running through your folds so he can coat his fingers in your slit. "You wanna come?" he coos, prodding one finger at your entrance, and he thinks he might tease you a little longer but then he sees how quickly you respond and it has his resolve crumbling. He sinks is finger in and it's so long and so thick and reaches places in one go that you can't even even imagine of reaching with your own fingers.

You let out a deep sigh, instinctively grinding down on his hand so that your clit is also brushing against his palm adding to the stimulation. Minghao is gentle in the first few moments, moving his finger in and out at a steady pace before you murmur his name once more, causing him to push a second finger inside. "Oh my god, Minghao," you moan, and his eyes shoot up at yours, using the hand that was at your tits to cover your mouth.

"Quiet," he demands, as he continues to fuck you with your fingers. The sound of your wetness and his fingers against your gummy walls is echoing though the room and all you can think about is how dirty and how erotic this feels, and you moan again quietly again at the thought. Minghao's fingers still inside of you at the sound, and you feel your eyes widen and tear up once more. "Be quiet, or I'll stop," he murmurs, resuming his ministrations once he sees you nod.

"Minghao," you say quietly, throwing your head back when you feel him start to play with one of your nipples. "Feels so—so good," you hiccup, doing your best to keep quiet. He's fucking into you ruthlessly now, the pads of his fingers hitting spots you didn't even know existed, and you know your end is close by the way your vision nearly goes white. You grind against his hand harder, and Minghao picks up on the subtle movement.

"Gonna cum?" he breaths out and you don't even have it in you to say anything, your only response being your quickened movements. "C'mon angel, cum for me," he whispers into your ear and maybe it's his voice or maybe it's the way his fingers have you seeing stars or maybe it's the stimulation of your clit against his palm or maybe it's everything combined but you're cumming hard and fast within seconds around his fingers, and holy shit you think that might just be the best orgasm of your life.

You're left panting as Minghao's fingers slow down inside of you, twitching every few seconds from the overstimulation, before he's pulling them out of you and your panties completely. You want to hide your face, looking away when you realize how wet they are. "Why're you looking away?" Minghao asks, grabbing your chin so you can look at him. "It's hot," he tells you with a shrug, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, raising a brow. You're slightly embarrassed, yes, but you'd be a fool to try and deny him, opening up your mouth and suck your own wetness off him when he presses his fingers into your mouth.

After you swirl your tongue around him a few times, he pulls his hands back, replacing his fingers on your mouth with his lips, kissing you sweetly. You bring your hands up to his hair, moving your lips in unison as he places one hand on your waist, pulling your shirt back down to cover you.

"That was fun," you finally say when you're both pulling away.

"You're gonna drive me up a wall," Minghao mutters under his breath, taking a small step back. "But it was." He's silent for a moment before speaking again. "I'm gonna head back—wouldn't want anyone to wake up and find out I'm not where I supposed to be."

"You think someone would wake up?"

Minghao chuckles, and you feel those butterflies again. "You were pretty loud," he says, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of your neck.

"Whose fault is that again?" you ask.

"Dunno," Minghao says casually. "He must be super hot though."

You click your tongue as Minghao walks backward toward your door. "Hmm, I'll have to agree with that."

He smiles and kisses you hard one last time before ruffling your hair. "Sleep well angel."

a/n. not even going to bother reading this through because i'll get embarrassed. dw guys i'm working on a better hao fic soon >_<

[schrijverr]

Works Alone

When trying to pull the team together, Bruce’s ideas are dismissed, because he works alone. He goes home to his kids to pout about it.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

Bruce isn’t pouting. He isn’t! He’s not even a little bit miffed, because he doesn’t want the Justice League to succeed anyway. He doesn’t trust them, hell, he’s not even a full time member, he’s only playing along to keep the others in check. So why would he care?

However, attempting to convince himself doesn’t mean it is working or not clear on his face. The second he steps into the Cave, Dick comments: “Someone is pouty. Did anything happen with your new friends, B?”

He sounds a little too jovial about the whole thing for Bruce’s taste, because despite what he’s telling himself, he is pouty.

“Ridiculous. Father would never stoop so low as to pout,” Damian sticks up for him.

Damian had been sparring with Dick when Bruce arrived, but is now taking a break to drink some water. Seeing the two of them work together makes Bruce both feel better and more prissy, so he just grunts.

“He’s totally pouty,” Jason crows, from where he’d been ruffling through Bruce’s equipment. He would gladly give Jason all the stuff he needs, but Jason insists on stealing it, even if he’s stealing it in plain sight, which is more closely to just taking it.

“Take it back,” Damian frowns.

“Nah,” Jason says. “You know how he gets when y’all don’t come by enough. I mean, you shoulda seen him when Dickface first moved out. Man’s a pouter, I dunno what to tell ya.”

“What’s B pouting about now?” Steph asks, falling into the conversation since she’s only just arrived to start getting ready for patrol tonight.

“We don’t know yet, he’s still denying he’s pouting,” Tim calls out, not having looked up from where he’s working on the Batcomputer all throughout. “Though it’s likely something with the League, since he just got back from giving back up.”

Heads turn his way and Dick concernedly frowns: “Are you okay? Did they do something?”

There is a dark, yet gleeful glimmer in Damian’s eyes as he asks: “Do we need to go out there and vanquish these super powered morons, father?”

“No,” Bruce sighs, still a little miffed, though his mood has definitely been improved by his kid’s banter, as well as their worry for him.

“Then what happened, old man?” Jason demands. “Stop that vague bullshit you always do.”

“Oehhh, Jason swore!” Steph immediately chimes in. “I’m telling Alfred.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Jason whips around to her, pointing his knife at her.

“Knock it off, I wanna hear why B is being pouty,” Tim interrupts them.

“Yes, cease this chatter,” Damian adds, a rare show of agreement with Tim. They’ve all been growing, Bruce thinks proudly.

“So what happened then?” Steph asks, rolling her eyes, though stopping her fight with Jason.

Jason luckily also lets it go for now, so Bruce can answer: “They aren’t working as a team. It’s just a group of skilled individuals now and it’s becoming a problem.”

“You’ve been observing that for a while, B. Why suddenly the long face about it?” Dick asks.

And now the embarrassing part, Bruce thinks as he admits: “John is trying to do something about it now. I offered my help, but he refused, stating that I don’t know how, since I work alone, while he has been in the army.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, the whole group bursts out in laughter.

“What?” Jason wheezes, while Dick cackles: “He actually said that? Are you for real? Oh my god.”

“I’m going to loose my shit,” Steph snorts, Tim chuckling in the background.

Even Damian is looking amused, although also slightly judgmental. He disdainfully comments: “They are not very bright and must lack observational skills, father. Are you certain you wish to proceed in sponsoring them?”

“Yes,” Bruce sighs again. He’d already had that conversation with himself. Many times. “There is a lot of potential there too. Which is what makes them dangerous. However, out there is dangerous too. They can protect like an army can. Like we can’t.”

“Tt, we can take on extraterrestrial threats and some villains,” Damian huffs, obviously displeased. Out of all his siblings, he’s been the most vocally against the Justice League.

“The brat has a point,” Jason surprises him by backing him up. “I mean, between us here and those still on the streets or running late, you basically have your own little army right here. Just recruit Wonder Woman and I’m sure we’d have a chance.”

“You just wanna work with Wonder Woman, don’t you?” Dick says, sounding a little smug as he slides up behind Jason to make a kissy face at him.

Jason just pushes his face away as he blushes and exclaims: “Shaddup, Dickhead.”

“Yeah, shut up! That’s the most sensible thing he’s said all his life,” Steph hollers.

“Kids, kids, calm down. We’re not disbanding the Justice League and adopting Wonder Woman,” Bruce interrupts, wondering how his life ends up with him saying sentences that he never thought he would be saying.

“I never said nothin’ ‘bout adopting her,” Jason scowls.

“Cuz you want to kiss her!” Dick sing-songs.

“Isn’t she like a few thousand years old or something?” Tim asks.

“Also not marrying Wonder Woman. Any of you,” Bruce says. “Why don’t we all just stay away from Wonder Woman. And the rest of the Justice League, which will continue to exist and not fall apart because they struggle at teamwork. Maybe John’s idea will work. It’s too early to say.”

All of them are giving him a judgmental look now and Bruce struggles to not react to it. It’s always harder when he agrees with them.

“But Green Lantern’s plan is hinging on esprit de corpse,” Tim says. “And that will never work, because it’s a military mentality and while you’ve been working together, there is no real interdependence outside a few emergencies.”

“Yeah, what Timmy said,” Dick agrees, gesturing towards Tim.

“I loathe to admit it, father, but Drake has a point,” Damian nods and that truly shows that it is a hopeless mission for John.

“We’ll just have to see,” Bruce says, deciding to end the conversation there. “Now get ready for pre-patrol brief. We have a few open cases to assign. Cass and Harper will soon be reporting from their early rounds, so get suited up.”

There are a few groans around him, but his kids grant him the mercy of dropping it. They probably know as he does that this won’t be the last time they discuss it.

Indeed a few days later, Bruce comes walking into the Cave again, trying not to let the thunder cloud above his head show too much. However, he knows his kids notice, some sending him a raised brow or an inquiring look. Bruce is glad that he’s come far enough as a parent that not even Dick or Jason are put off by his bad mood.

Dick is also the one to tentatively ask: “Not a good training session with the Justice League?”

“John has us running drills,” Bruce grunts. “It’s showing us each other’s moves and how to play into each other, but…”

“It’s not turning you into a team?” Dick suggest.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, sighing.

“Esprit de corpse,” Tim sing-songs, walking by with a steaming mug of coffee that he went upstairs to refill, ready to start working on the case he’s in the middle of.

Bruce ignores Tim, knowing he’s right, and pulls the cowl off to card a hand through his hair. “We don’t need to run drills, but we need to do trust exercises, talk with each other, get to know each other better, be- be-”

He doesn’t know how he wants to end that sentence, but Cass does, materializing out of the darkness in her sweats, she says one word: “Family.”

“I thought you didn’t like the Justice League,” Duke asks. Luke is covering his day shift today since the last few days have been busy for Duke, but as a true Bat, he doesn’t really know what taking a break means, so he’s in the Cave training.

“Hn,” Bruce replies, thinking. “I mean, I do like them, I just-”

“He doesn’t trust ‘em,” Jason says. He wasn’t supposed to be at the Cave, but it’s clear why he’s there when Bruce looks his way in surprise. He’s holding a box of files, likely stuff he needs for his organization, Bruce wouldn’t know. They’re at a point where Jason doesn’t kill and Bruce doesn’t ask.

“What? Why?” Duke asks. “You fund them and go on missions with them. Even share intell and use them as backup, despite the fact that there are metas and aliens among them. Why do that if you don’t trust them?”

“’Cause he’s also paranoid,” Jason answers for him. “He’s monitoring ‘em.”

“But also befriending them,” Dick says, defending Bruce. “He just needs to vet them closely first, before he does that.”

“Right, ‘cause he’s paranoid,” Jason says.

Duke looks at Bruce, who sighs: “They’re not wrong. The Justice League has a lot of potential to do good and they’re showing they want to be that goodness. But they also have the potential of mass destruction. We need to be sure they won’t be a threat and that we have the right contingencies, before we let them in.”

“Like I said, paranoid,” Jason repeats.

“But trying,” Dick adds.

“And is stepping in to help them get better teamwork going to backfire?” Duke wonders. “Like are we scared we’re going to teach them how to destroy everything as a team? Is that it?”

“No,” Bruce answers, before the peanut gallery consisting of Dick and Jason can. “I offered help to John, he didn’t want it. I don’t think they’re willing to listen to my opinion on it, since I work alone, so have no expertise.”

Duke snorts loudly at that, then suddenly says: “Wait, you’re serious?”

Bruce grunts as conformation.

“Why?” Duke asks.

“Paranoid,” Jason says, rolling his eyes, before hoisting his box up again, before walking off.

Meanwhile, Bruce actually explains: “I haven’t mentioned you, like I said I would. It’s best if they don’t know we’re connected, nor that Gotham hosts more heroes. Connections like we have could be exploited by them and Superman can do a lot more damage should he so choose than Killer Croc or Bane.”

“But they’re good guys, right?”

“For now,” Dick answers morosely. “I’m not saying I agree with B’s paranoia, I mean, I was doing team ups before him and it worked out fine for me without the layers of paranoid he has. But a lot of things can go wrong, especially when working with people that powerful. I also maintained a semblance of mystique just to be safe.”

“But you can try to tell them this isn’t working, right? They must see that it’s not,” Duke says.

“From what I’ve seen both Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman are warriors like John, so they think the same about this. Superman and Flash are office workers, they’d think of horrid team-building days. While J’onn is used to working together with people who can read minds,” Bruce answers. “Out of all of them, only J’onn might listen.”

Cass nudges him and signs: ‘You are not saying something. There is hiding in your shoulders and a bit of guilt in your jaw.’

“What are you hiding, B,” Dick prods, a little bit of genuine judgment and worry coming through the tease.

“It’s a risk to tell them,” Bruce answers sulkily, knowing it’s a little silly, but unable to stop his brain from providing pop-ups of all the ways it could backfire.

“B,” Dick whines, throwing himself to hang over him. “You can at least try.”

“I will, I will,” Bruce says, placating yet also meaning it. He wants to do right by his kids and they want him to have friends, most of them encouraging him with the Justice League.

And, he does. Tentatively he suggest doing some trust exercises among the drills they’ve been running. As expected he gets weird looks and even a scoff from Wally and a frown from Clark. But he manages to play into John’s ideas brotherhood, which means the others are forced to give it a try.

It’s not perfect, of course it isn’t. They still have to deal with the fact that they never agreed on a strategists or a leader of sorts. They still have to build an organization, a system, a proper way of working as a unit.

However, they are getting somewhere. Some prodding here and there helps and the more it helps, the more others prod.

Though it’s not until years later, when Damian is nearly outgrowing the Robin mantle, that Bruce finally allows them to meet his kids. To let them in on the inner workings of Gotham vigilantism.

Then John will point at him and exclaim: “You son of a bitch, you lied to me! You let me struggle on my own to pull these idiots together.”

And at that point, Bruce will be comfortable enough to ignore everyone’s protests and smirk: “I offered you to help, didn’t I? Too bad I work alone.” Making his kids – though they’re adults at that point – laugh like the day they first heard.

~~

A/N:

I think the League thinking Batman works alone is hilarious, especially if they establish later than the batfam

[hwavsg4ch4n]

Men I Trust || L.F

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, bestie!Felix, soft dom!Felix, college au, Cheating, mentions of alcohol, penetration (F receiving), cursing, foreplay, public teasing, slight degradation

Note: omg haiii, I haven’t posted in so long wowwww. It feels good to be back tbh. I wanted to give you guys a good length worth of plot and smut as an apology for disappearing for so damn long. I have a lot of Ideas brewing, might end up looking like an unofficial KINKTOBER lol. Maybe next year I’ll do an official one haha.

Description: Felix wants to support you in anyway he can, even if it means bending his morals ever so gently

this is a work of fiction, not real… yeah

It was like a frown was permanently etched onto your features. “Girl…” you looked up from your textbook with tired eyes, being met with your friends' lively ones. You hummed in response, “Where is your boyfriend? Wasn’t he supposed to pick you up like 2 hours ago?” your lips parted as you flipped over your phone, thinking you missed tons of phone calls, secretly you were hoping you did miss calls; it would help the anxious thoughts. 

At last, nothing. Not a text, not a voicemail, not a missed call, nothing. You sighed, “maybe he got caught up with something.” while offering your friend a tightlipped smile that she didn’t buy, you tried calling your boyfriend. Your already fake grin faltering as it went straight to voicemail. While being focused on your phone, you didn’t even realize another friend of yours reaching your table. “Hey girls!” You didn’t register his voice, too busy trying to figure out where your boyfriend was; did he turn his location off?

You called again, and again, all while looking down at the lacquered wooden table, scratching at the waxy surface too embarrassed to look up and face your friends. “Anthony!” you chimed as he answered after the second to last ring. “Y/n i’m busy.” You frowned, your heart racing as you heard laughter and music in the background. “Oh, I thought you would be picking me up. Did you forget again? Anthony, you- where even are you?” 

Felix raised his brows in question, looking to your mutual friend that sat next to him in disappointment. He knew about the problems between your current boyfriend, he once had to call him for you on his phone; you were too scared and didn’t want to be perceived as pushy or clingy. However, it’s common sense to know a person can only be pushed but so far.

“Y/n please, not this again. I don’t have time for this, you can find a ride home baby. Maybe ask Felix? Lauren?” You scoffed as he sounded annoyed, “Find a fucking ride home? Are you serious? I’ve been waiting in this damn library for you, for more than 2 hours. Now I need to find a ride home?” Your friends watched as tears of frustration welled up into your eyes. “How about I make it up to you later, hm? You know where my spare key is.” You knew what he was suggesting, and somehow it made you even more upset. First he bails, and then tells you to wait up to 3 more hours at his empty apartment just to have the worst sex of your life, as an apology. Nevertheless, you said okay tiredly, mostly to just hang up.

You put your phone down with a heavy sigh, finally looking up to see who joined your table. Even Though it was subtle, a smile spread across your face. “Hey, Lix.” He smiled back in an attempt to hide his worry. “Hey, wanna share what that was about?” he let out a little chuckle. You huffed, “I told Anthony that me and Lauren would be studying so he offered to pick me up at 4pm, obviously he ditched me… again. I should’ve fucking known,” at this point you were ranting, your friends didn’t mind. “He’s never been on time before so why now, right?” You let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Also, can you believe that he tries to make it up to me with sex every fucking time? Sex, that’s not even good? I bet he can’t even spell the word clit!” your friends' mouths were parted at your outburst, Felix chuckling as he held back a blush. You apologized, “I’m sorry it’s just… I’m stressed. He stresses me in every which way.” Your hands rubbed at your neck in an attempt to soothe.

“Wanna go to the club?” Felix suggested. You looked at him straight faced, trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. “The club? really?” Felix shrugged, “why not? You guys study almost every night. That’s enough stress already y/n, you need to let loose, have a few drinks.” He shot a smile at you. You looked at Lauren who was nodding along. “Why not, girl? You have too much on your plate. Maybe you’ll meet someone better tonight. I know I will.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. You rolled your eyes, looking at the time. 5:30pm.

You looked down at your textbook and notes. Sighing, you muttered a “Sure.”,  giving in quicker than usual. Felix clapped excitedly, ushering the nearby librarian to pay him with a hurried “shush”.

-

You fit into your cutest outfit. A black mini skirt paired with a black lace lingerie bodysuit snug against your figure. You felt serene as your music hummed in your room. Singing along to your favorite songs as you put on makeup. Dolling yourself up almost felt like meditation. You took in deep breaths every time you applied something to your skin, exhaling when you blended it out. It felt good… you felt good. At least until your phone dinged, and you found yourself hoping it would be Anthony begging and pleading for forgiveness, asking why you’re not at his place. Nonetheless, the dings were just YouTube notifications with the occasional email and period tracker app making it known you’re ovulating.

You were applying your deep brown lip liner when you heard a knock on your cracked door. You hummed as a signal to let the person come in. In the reflection of your vanity mirror you saw Felix with a completely different outfit from earlier.

A black t-shirt, a bit shorter than usual, if he raised his arms you could see one of the reasons why he’s so popular with the opposite sex. His oversized cargo pants fit him like a dream. His fingers clad with his favorite rings.

“You look pretty.” he complimented. You smiled at him through your reflection in gratitude while reaching for your lip gloss. “I bought you that ring didn’t I?” Felix gave you a bright smile, nodding as he plopped himself on your bean bag chair. “You did.” He muttered. He watched you as you applied your lipgloss, deep in thought. “Y/n,” he says, you hum back urging him to continue. “You deserve better, you know that right? I don’t think I need to tell you that but… I figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.” You turned to look at him, “Sometimes Felix, I feel like I have a huge stamp on my forehead that reads garbage.” You chuckled. “But I’ll get over it.” You shrug, carefully putting on your favorite gold hoop earrings.

He shook his head, sitting up straighter. “Absolutely not, no. Some men are just … dickheads. It’s not your fault, it never will be I promise. You’re amaz-” you let out a hearty laugh as he rambled at a lower octave, watching you turn around and douse your face in one more layer of settling spray. “Lixie,” he looked at you wide eyed to show he’s all ears. “Save the pep talks for tomorrow and just help me get drunk and have fun tonight, okay?” Felix raised his hands up In defense, nodding. “Deal.”

You smiled, getting up and walking to your closet, “Now help me pick out some heels, please and thank you.”

-

The music blared as two of your closest friends pulled you straight to the bar. 

Lauren urged you all to take shots before the lot of you left, telling you that some of her friends are there, that shes plans on leaving with them. Felix complained and you took two tequila shots, no biggie. But now she’s yelling at the bartender to open her tab and give you each 4 shots of 818t. You didn’t protest, just giggling at Felix’s look of bewilderment as the 4 shots were placed in front of him.

The two of you watched Lauren down her first two. “Ever heard of pace yourself?” Felix yelled over the blaring music. The crowd cheered as the smoke machine turned on, becoming one with the strobe lights. 

You turned to Felix after Lauren told him to shut up. “Fuck it!” You giggled, downing all your shots. Felix laughed along, downing his as well. 

“Here babe,” Lauren passed you two more, justifying her reasoning by saying “it’s for good luck!” Before she got lost in the crowd of movement to find her friends. You tilted your head back. It hit you, all the shots you took hit you like a truck. Teetering the thin line between tipsy and drunk, you grabbed Felix’s hand. “Dance with me Lix!” You smiled sweetly at him, hoping off your barstool and tugging him behind you.

After finding a comfortable spot within the crowd of moving bodies, your arms made their way around Felix’s neck. You smiled up at him excitedly, he looked down at you smiling, chuckling as he tried to keep you steady. “You drunk yet?” Felix winced as you yelled a bit too loud, forgetting that he’s closer than you think. 

“I’m trying to fight off the drunk, but I think I’m falling.” His words were slightly slurred, his freckled cheeks were tinged pink. You laughed, “I can tell, your cheeks are redder than the lights.” Felix shook his head as you tapped his cheeks, using whatever sobriety he had left in his being to keep you from bumping into too many strangers.

“No more talking, I’m dancing!” Before Felix could respond you turned around, your back pressing against his front, in an acceptable proximity Felix didn’t think twice about. But then his brain froze when you took his hands and placed them on your mid section. The cool temperature of his silver rings chilled your skin mildly as you felt it through your lace top. You sighed at the contrasting feeling, the rest of your body felt on fire and the alcohol warms you. Unbeknownst to you, your head fell to his shoulder slowly while your eyes closed in euphoria. You needed this, an escape with your friends. You sighed, relaxing into Felix as the music controlled your movements.

“Oh.” He muttered in surprise. His body heated, the tequila making him more aware than he should be. Felix gulped, licking his lips as he looked down. Taking In your skin, he witnessed you putting on body glitter when you all left the house. He didn’t let it soak in before, but now his vision is slightly blurred and the glitter was extra shiny. The strobe lights, blue and red, were hitting the highest points of your body that was exposed to him. We’re you fucking glowing? His breathing started to labor as you pressed against him harder, moving your hips with his at a pace that had him questioning if this moment was real. 

“Y/n…?” He muttered, “Yeah?” You sighed out, sounding almost breathless. “W-what are you doing?” He breathed into your neck, blinking slowly as he observed your closed eyes and sly smirk. “I’m dancing, idiot. What else?” You raised one of your hands and pulled him down by the back of his neck so your lips grazed his ear. “You need to keep up, Lix.” You say playfully.

His breath hitched, his hold on your midsection tightening slightly without his control. He was warm, he felt really warm, almost on the brink of breaking a sweat.

You swayed, grinded, giggled and tightened your grip on the back of his neck ever so slightly as your other hand stroked his forearm. It felt heavily to be touched this way, you didn’t know the last time you had been. Your foggy drunk mind didn’t care that the touches were from one of your closest friends, if anything you felt safer. The only thing you could think about was the smell of his cologne, the music and the heat radiating off him. It felt overwhelming in the best way possible, you hummed while following the rhythm. Feeling his grip on your torso tightening, you bit your bottom lip. Heat pooling to the place that has craved proper attention for months.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to slow down his heartbeat. And then he felt it, you slightly brushing off him only to deliver a deep grind against his center. He huffed, “Y-Y/n.” You shushed him. “Just feel the music, have fun.” His breath labored as he felt you grind against him harder, swiveling your hips, bending your knees slightly, your mostly exposed back brushing against his chest, he was sure your perfume would be embedded in his shirt.

“Shit” he thought, the heat, all the flustered heat that he felt was now migrating to one place. He tried his best to fight it, he really did. But when you smell like this, when you look like this, when you feel like this, Felix couldn’t help it. The tent in his pants formed and took shape against your bottom. Your movements started to focus only in that area; you knew. Of course you knew, you’re not dumb, it was painfully obvious that you didn’t care either.

Felix fought for a steady breath as you moved against him. He cleared his throat now and then trying to remain sane, trying not to fuck up whatever was going on. And then it dawned on him where you two were. “Y/n, we’re uhm, we’re in public.” His words came out gruff and breathless.

You didn’t stop moving as you responded, “What are you suggesting?” You smirked, slow turning around to meet his eyes. When Felix met your eyes in the blaring lights, his member pulsed. “Cat got your tongue Lixie?” His lips parted only to close when your thumb traced his Adam's apple gently. “Jesus.” He whispered, you couldn’t hear.

“Can I kiss you here?” You ask slightly slurred. “Uhm, w-what about Antho-” you frowned, shaking your head. “Don’t fucking worry about him, he’s not as much man as you are.” You knew how to stroke his ego perfectly. Felix nodded, “Only if you’re sure.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s only a silly peck.”

It wasn't just a peck, it was a parted lip, heated, wet kiss planted on his adams apple. Followed by a sensual lick that trailed to the side of his neck. You sucked gently and carefully, all the while planting kisses and small bites. Felix was lost in the feeling of you, sighing, whimpering as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer. “Fuck it.” He whispers, you heard that.

 His hand that was adorned with rings grips your jaw with soft urgency, guiding your parted lips to his. He kissed you deeply, taking your breath away as he tilted his head so his tongue could reach every inch of your mouth. You breathed in from your nose as your hands braced themselves on his chest. His lips were soft, so soft as you tasted your cherry lip gloss transferring onto his lips. 

It felt as if the blaring music faded away as the two of you made out in between dancing bodies that were too drunk to even notice you. You gasped a proper breath as Felix detached you from him by your jaw. “My place or yours?” You answered with a dazed, “Huh?” He chuckled, his other hands moving down your back to softly pat your ass as an attempt to snap you back to reality. “I said, my place or yours darling?” 

-

The door to Felix’s apartment barely closed before you grabbed Felix by the neck and pulled him in for another kiss that would’ve been a bit too raunchy for a night club. You kicked off your heels as Felix did his shoes, never thinking of breaking the kiss. He grabbed your waist and turned on his dim warm kitchen light. He guided you to lean on his dark marble counter, “How you feeling?” He asked, pulling away slightly, unbuttoning his pants slowly as he waited for your response.

You looked down between your bodies, watching as his fingers pulled down his fly, exposing his black Calvin boxers. He took two fingers to fix your gaze back to his “I asked you a question.” His eyes were almost as dark as his voice while he looked at you. “I want you.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice. You could remember the last time you sounded so needy, being in a situation that made you this way didn’t cross your mind. If you were sober you’d be entirely embarrassed.

Felix grinned, reaching behind your back to unzip your skirt, pushing it down your legs gently. “That’s not what I asked you.” He reminded. You racked your brain, trying with all your might to think of the question that seemed so simple. Then his lips met your neck and your mind went blank. “Answer me, y/n.” He rumbled. “Can you- can you repeat the question?” You stammered. He smirked against your skin, giving your hip a squeeze. “I asked how you’re feeling, are you tired? You need a break?” You shook your head in disapproval. “No, no I’m okay. Keep going, I’m okay, please.”

Felix nodded, stepping back to look at your lace bodysuit that now acted as lingerie. He tsked, biting his lips while his finger traced the intricate detail on your hip bone. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” You looked up at him, flustered. “Any smart man would keep you to himself, if he knew what was good for him that is.” You shook your head in embarrassment and he smirked. “Feel what you did to me, y/n.” He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it before guiding you into the warmth of his pants. His member hard and pulsating, warm as you hold him. 

“Felix...” He grins, “Oh I know, I’m taking too long, hm?”. He takes your hand out of his pants, pushing you deeper into the counter. His lips find yours again. He gropes at your flesh, and bites your bottom lip all before he rips a hole in the lace he adored so much; right where you need him the most. You gasp but he only takes that opportunity to kiss you deeper. His fingers slip past your folds to feel the wetness that accumulated throughout the night. He hums, gathering your moisture to rub your bundle of nerves sweetly. You moan pathetically into his mouth, you needed this more than you thought.

Felix breaks away from your lips only to pull down your top, exposing your hard nipples. He sucks and licks on them with a small nip to keep you from melting into pleasure completely. “Ohh, Lix there, there, god.” You breathed out, guiding his hand to where your clit loves it the most. Your head falls back as your other hand grips his hair. “Not yet,” he mutters against you. His fingers slide down your slit with ease, plunging into your leaking hole with a squelch. You bite your lip and close your eyes, flustered by the noises your body is capable of making due to your close friend's hand.

He pumps his fingers into you, earning a few groans as you look down. “It feels better with you.” You groan, he’s elated, his bulge twitched against your thigh. “Oh baby, I bet. I fucking bet.” He rewards you with the curl of his fingers, stimulating the most delicate part of you. You lurch forward, one hand shooting to your unoccupied mound for support as the other pulls his mouth off your now puffy bud. You press your foreheads together, “I wanna cum for you,” you breathe out, Felix parts his lips, fingers not halting. “I want you to feel how hard I can clench around you, think about my pussy milking you that way, want you to feel it Lixie.” You never spoke like this, the words flowed from your dirty lips like a river, Felix grew close to overwhelmed.

“Fuck, do you hear yourself baby? Such a fucking slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded quickly, your brows furrowing as you felt the knot you longed for tangle in your tummy. “Close lix close please, I need it.” He pecked your nose, quickly switching to stimulating your clit right where you placed him last. Your head fell back again, letting out a groan as Felix attached his swollen lips to your neck. “Fucking creaming on my fingers baby,” you let out hushed and quick yes’s. He hummed while grinning, “Cum, y/n. Give it to me.” And you did. You went silent as your mouth gapped, your chest heaving and your knees buckled as he rode you threw it. Pressing kisses to your chest and soothing the purple bruises he littered across your neck.

You fought to catch your breath as Felix ripped the hole in your lace wider, “Sorry darling, I’m not done, if that’s okay with you.” Instead of verbal confirmation, you turned around on shaky legs and leaned forward, nipples pressing against the cold marble. You propped one leg on his barstool and arched your back, exposing your sopping heat and puffy clit. 

You whined, wiggling your bottom, signaling you wanted more from him. Felix was astonished, almost prideful, he didn’t even bother pulling his pants down. He pulled his member out, hissing as his tip came in contact with your heat. Then it was like a lightbulb came on, “I’ll go get a condom.” You huffed in protest, “Raw, fuck me raw. I’m on the pill lix, I’m clean. I always made him use a condom. Raw please.” You tripped over your words, grinding on his length in an attempt to push him in yourself.  His cock jumped at your pleas, “You want me that bad?” You nodded in response, flinching as his tip brushed your clit.

Felix groaned, pushing himself in. Your mouth gaped, your eyes shutting in untter bliss; you were full to your heart’s content. “Perfect.” You moaned, pushing yourself back on his dick. He let you do your thing for a while, watching as your past orgasm made itself known on his shaft. A white ring coating him as your walls squeezed him with warmth. 

“You feel so good,” he growls. He takes your hips, meeting you in the middle as he thrusts into you. You cried out his name, your palms flat on his table when you felt him spread your ass cheeks apart, pushing into you with fast deep thrusts. All you could let out was huffs of air and strangled profanities as he hit places you thought were myths. 

“Taking me so well, y/n. So fucking good.” He muttered, placing his hand at the base of your back for more leverage. “You’re creaming me darling, you hear that?” The sloshing sound of your cunt was almost as loud as the slap Felix delivered to your ass.

His hand rubbed at your puffy clit, you had no choice but to tear up. “Oh my god.” You sobbed. “I need you to cum baby, I need you to cum so I can hm? Be nice to your Lixie.” You bit your lip, the intensity of your nearing climax being felt in the tip of your fingers as your thighs shook. “Fuck!” You groaned loudly, hearing the sound of your pussy gushing and juice’s hitting the floor was the least of your worries as you saw stars. You swore at that moment you reached nirvana. 

Your body had a mind of its own as you pulled your cunt off his member and got down on your knees before him. “Record me, record how you cum on me.” You muttered while looking up at your closest friend. Felix had to act quick, the sight of your mascara running and tear stained cheeks, your eyes low and tongue out waiting to take whatever he would give was now embedded in his mind as a core memory. 

He reached for his phone in his back pocket, swiping to his camera and hitting record with flash as he stroked himself quickly. You looked filthy, your pussy was dripping, your body was glistening and your hair was messy. You didn’t seem to care as your manicured nails that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend pity paid for, excitedly gripped Felix’s cargo clad thighs in anticipation.

“Shit shit.” He came, on your tits, on your nose and of course on your tongue. He groaned as you suckled on his twitching tip, kissing and licking. Felix looked at you through his camera, his free hand caressing your face, wiping your tears and hair away. Thumb lingered down to your soft swollen lips, pushing passed as you sucked gently. You smiled up at him just as he stopped recording. 

“Thank you Lixie.” You whispered, fucked out and hazy. He smiled sweetly at you, “No baby, thank you.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Bath time y/n. Come on.” He pulled you up gently.

-

Your hands drew circles on his chest as he stroked your naked back.

“Y/n?” You hummed in response, breathing in his body wash.

“What should I do with that video?” You looked up at Felix, with a small smile. “Send it to him and brag for the both of us, only if you want to.” You laid back down sighing in content. Felix played with your hair and chuckled. He knew you were groggy and not confident in your words. He settled for a simple screenshot, one where anyone could barely tell it was you. His ring clad thumb in your mouth as you sucked. 

The picture is attached with a short but sweet message.

“Sorry bro.”

[ladylooch]

What's It Gonna Be? [Mack X David]

A/N: The ask for this blurb disappeared.... what is up with inboxes right now? My stuff disappears on the reg. Idk maybe it is too full. ANYWAYS, the original ask was something along the lines of: When is the next time David and Mack interact after the kiss. So here it is...

The day after their kiss is the first time she hears from Davey outside of a Lucie and Connor interaction. 

Mack is running on the treadmill in her building gym, just about to hit her highest ascent before beginning her cool down. She startles at Siri beginning to read off an unknown number into her AirPods, then her robotic voice shrills out “Hi Mackncheese.” Mack grabs the edges of the treadmill to stay upright. She slaps the stop button, then gradually lets the treadmill die off. 

You decide yet honey 🍯

Mack’s breathing is labored from her 4 mile run along with her surprise at hearing from him. How did he even get her number? She pushes her sweaty hair back into her ponytail, then grabs her phone. She opens her messages, reading his texts over again as a bubble signals he has more to say. She waits, anticipation clinging to her skin like sweat.

Would be so good to ya...

Mack absentmindedly grazes her lips with the tips of her fingers. His kiss left her discombobulated and speechless last night. She has little doubt that David Carlson knows how to treat a woman in the way he is insinuating. But he doesn't need to know that.

You’re confident of that? Mack decides to type back.

The bubble pops up again. 

Wanna play show and tell? All you gotta do is say yes.

Mack smiles down at her phone as she gets off the treadmill. She missteps and falls down. From her back, she closes her eyes in deep embarrassment. Good lord, this man has her all out of sorts. She needs to get her shit together. From her resting place, she sends him a single Emoji: 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hey, I'll take it for today. It’s not a no.

He has sent one text a day since then, all with the same sexy inquisitiveness. Now, it’s Wednesday and Mack finds herself scrolling back into those messages, scanning them over again while lounging on Lucie and Connor's couch.

Make up your mind yet baby? Bed is getting mighty lonely.

You still got that bikini from your Maldives article? Would love to see it in person.

When do you wanna come over? Got this great spot for you to sit on… 

Mackncheese, your time is running out. What have you decided?

The last one was from today and Mack still doesn’t have an answer for him. She is still attempting to catch up with these new feelings for him. She’s tried to reason the feelings away, insist they aren’t there, smother them out, but nothing is working. She finally had to come to the conclusion that they were real and she needed to sort them out before anything went further. 

David is everything Mack thought she hated in men. He is decisive, rugged, fights people on the ice, sarcastic as hell, and his endless teasing makes her eye twitch on the regular. She likes soft men. Men who read poetry and appreciate the arts and don’t mind sitting in a coffee shop for hours on end. David always has to be doing something. He’s either running around with Stella or helping Lucie in the kitchen or looking over Mack’s shoulder while she tries to formulate the outline for her next article. He’s too much and worst of all, he never lets Mack fade into the background when he is around. 

This would never work. 

Except, he’s the only one who sees her, clearly and unflinchingly. 

“Auntie? Can I have McDonald’s for dinner?” Mack blinks to come out of her thoughts.

“Your mom has chicken nuggets for you.”

“Yeah, gluten free.” Stella whines. “I want the crispy ones from McDonald’s.” Mack looks at her standing there, contemplating. Lucie didn’t say they couldn’t go out for dinner. She just said there was chicken nuggets in the freezer. If Mack’s being honest, McDonald’s chicken nuggets with buffalo and ranch sound really good.

“Only if you say I’m your favorite aunt.”

“You’re my favorite aunt.”

“You like me better than Uncle Lee?”

“No!” Stella laughs, then bites her lip, little shoulders quaking up and down. 

“What! You are such a stinker, Stell!” Mack laughs. 

“He brings McDonalds without me asking. Just shows up with it!” 

“We call that a suck up. He is buying your love.”

“And it’s working.” Mack claps her hand over her chest and howls with laughter. Stella is such a hoot. She always knows how to make Mack laugh.

“Let’s go sassy pants. Get some boots on, it was snowing earlier.”

Mack and Stella bundle up for the three walk block down the street to grab french fries, chicken nuggets, and a Sprite for each of them. Mack opens the door to let them out. They both startle when they see a tall figure on the other side of the door, fist raised, poised to knock. Stella catches on first.

“Davey!” Stella yells excitedly, launching into him. She headbutts him directly in the junk and he coughs out in pain. 

“Ooo. Hi Stell.” He says tightly, hand coming to grip himself over his zipper. “Ow.” He hisses air in through his teeth.

“Maybe you shouldn’t hover in people’s doorways.” Mack shrugs, stepping out of the apartment. She turns with the key, flipping the lock then turns back to the hallway. Mack gasps at how tightly David is crowding her space. She has to tilt her head all the way back to see his face.

“Got an answer for me?” He whispers, lips poised only a foot from her lips. She drags her top teeth over bottom lip. Her chest puffs out, feeling dizzy at the assault of his scent and masculine energy hovering over her.

“Is that why you’re here?” She wonders.

“No, I’m here to watch Stell.” He smirks, thinking it's cute that she thinks he came up to bug her.

“I’m here watching Stell? Lucie and Connor left an hour ago.” He furrows his brows in confusion, mustache pursing out with his top lip. He tilts his head to the side.

“Oh…” He trails off, then looks over his shoulder at Stella. “I guess you win again, Mackncheese.” 

“What? A night of watching TV dictated by a child? Lucky me.” He chuckles. 

“Over-under on how many times you’re watching the Little Mermaid?”

“I’m taking the under.” She laughs, then puts the keys in her purse. David shoves his hands in his worn, jean pockets, still not giving her much space. He is dressed in an olive green sweater that highlights the deepness of his emerald eyes.

“Where you going?” He asks.

“McDonalds!!!” Stell yells, coming back up to them. “You can come with us!”

“Oh… he probably has other-"

“Sweet! What are we getting?!” David answers before Mack can finish. She sighs heavily. Now that Stella is involved, there is no way David is not coming.

“Chicken nuggets!”

“Chicken nuggets?! Is that all you eat!? Gonna stunt your growth? Gonna be like the little runt piglets on my farm."

“Yeah!” She cheers, then slides her little hand in his big paw. “Go, go, go!”

She forces her body almost completely forward trying to pull him. He grips her tighter to keep her upright, then begins to walk. Mack stands there, dumbfounded at what is happening. How does he get invited along to everything? She watches her niece skip excitedly down to the elevator with David, admiring the way his strong arm easily supports and monitors every leap of Stella into the air. When she stumbles once, he catches her completely, like a constant safety net.They’re all the way to the elevator before they notice she isn’t with them.

“What’s it gonna be Mack?” David asks.

Mack knows he is talking about more than this McDonald’s run.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Seven - Prompt: Improvisation @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 875 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

After he blocked Barty’s number, Evan buried his face in the pillows and sobbed. He barely held his emotions in check for the entirety of that brief confrontation, until Barty cried out. Ignoring the pain and desperation in his voice were beyond his limits. Evan’s ribs cracked wide open when his heart was wrenched from his chest.

Deep, raspy breaths echoed around him as he plunged his face beneath the pillows. His lungs ached and his throat was swollen shut. This was the first time he’d cried in years and he didn’t know how to make it stop. It was too much for one person to take.

One month in and he’s ruined me. One bloody month.

Four full weeks of Barty “trying so fucking hard.” Of course, Evan noticed the effort. He was thrilled that he’d finally found someone who cared about him enough to try. Knowing that it was really just Barty’s attempt at atonement cheapened everything they had. Or at least, what he thought they had.

Was any of it real? Did it mean anything to him at all?

Evan scrubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t want to believe that Barty would be so callous, but now that he knew the truth, everything was suspect. Every line Barty used, promises that he made, and feelings he shared could be a lie. Their entire relationship was an elaborate improvisation of an apology to Regulus.

What if he hoped to win Regulus back? What if I was just a means to an end?

Unfortunately, it made sense. Evan knew that he didn’t hold up to someone like Regulus. He wasn’t just handsome, he was stunning. Regulus was beautiful in a way that defied reality. Sure, he was often a prick, but he was so pretty!

I can’t blame Barty for wanting him back.

It wasn’t even a blow to his own self-esteem. Evan knew that he was fit, but objectively, he couldn’t compare himself to Regulus when they weren’t competing in the same league. They weren’t even playing the same sport. Barty was a fluke, he wasn’t even Regulus’s type.

Evan patted around the quilt for his mobile. When he found it, he quickly looked up the photos that Pandora sent to him of Regulus’s new boyfriend. James was fit as fuck and she said that they were obsessed with each other. There was no way that Regulus would give him up for Barty, right?

“I would. In a heartbeat,” Evan whispered. He rested his chin on his arm as he swiped through the pictures. “A hockey player? What use is a git like that anyway? He’d bore me in a week, tops. Although, I wouldn’t mind shagging him.”

His phone lit up with a new call and for a moment he considered throwing it. Barty had so many bloody burners to avoid debt calls and set up buys for weed that Evan doubted he could block them all. When Dorcas’s face appeared, he sighed with relief.

“Hi Dorcas.”

“Well, don’t you sound cheery?”

“Not today. What’s up?” he said, grateful she hadn’t FaceTimed.

Dorcas hesitated, then sighed. “I need an unbiased opinion on something and I don’t think either of my flatmates can see past their rose-colored glasses at the moment. Do you have a minute? I think I just need to talk this out.”

“Yeah, go on.”

“So, I heard that my ex is in Wales with the rest of them. She was the DJ at the festival they attended last night and is joining them for the rest of the week. Am I mad to want to meet her there? That’s foolish, right?”

Evan hummed thoughtfully as he considered the situation. He didn’t know much about Dorcas’s ex-girlfriend, other than they broke up because long-distance was too hard. It was rare for Dorcas to reach out to him for advice though, so he was careful with his wording.

“Unless you think seeing her would fix the long-distance issue, I can’t see how it would help.”

Dorcas was silent for a long moment, but he could hear her nails tapping in the background. She wasn’t one for impulsive decisions. It was the primary reason that she and Pandora were friends. They balanced each other out and kept each other in check. Well, it took Regulus and Dorcas to balance out his sister’s level of chaos, really.

“That’s what I thought,” she said finally. “If there was a way, we’d have found it already. I’ll just hurt my own feelings going to see her, then having to leave again.”

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” Evan prompted. He needed this distraction.

“Yes, a little over a year now. We cut ties a month later because it was too hard to pretend that we were just friends.”

Understandable. Barty and I could never be friends either.

Evan traced the pattern on his quilt with his fingernail as he listened to Dorcas talk about her ex and the shite situation that broke them apart. He agreed when he was meant to and scoffed as expected. Normal couples had such mundane problems. All relationships are challenging at times, but most were rather boring.

Are they actually boring, or have I officially gone ‘round the bend?

Next Part>>>

[shohokubasket]

Mitsui/Kogure Postype Fics: Part 2!!

Well, I finally put together a bigger list of postype fanfics for anyone who's interested!

Notes about postype + translations can be found in Part 1. Also, like in Part 1, all the fics listed here do not require a postype account (sfw), and tags are written by me.

Part 1

**= my favesssss (highly recommend)

20의 연애 (20's Love)**

Author: 날치

Daeman's eyes squinted from beneath thick, neatly groomed eyebrows. His angular jaw was set in a mature manner, but there was still a hint of youthfulness in his rosy cheeks. I always thought he has a handsome face. It was a face that looked like it had been specially crafted by God. A radiant face and a dazzling talent.

"...I like you."

And a heart that shone even brighter, even more dazzling.

Tag: Multiple (Alternate) Universes // 1990s-2010s //Doctor!Junho // Basketball Player!Daeman // Taeseop x Hanna (background) // Baeko x Soyeon (background) // Angst // Regrets //

나의 세상 (My World)

Author: 炎犬

He hated the way he turned around and said, "You should live happily ever after, okay?" To say that to Daeman, and then turn around and tell her to live happily ever after with someone else. What are you going to do, Kwon Junho? Daeman wanted to grab Junho's shoulder right then and there and demand to know. No, Daeman couldn't be happy without Junho in the first place. It was probably the same for Junho. Isn't that enough? Then just, Just………. "Just, can't we both be happy……?"

Tags: Adult AU // (Attempted) Breakup

복수(Revenge)

Author: 농놀하는 기나긴겨울

"The drink you ordered is here. Please take your time. " Huh? I looked up at the person who brought me the drink, forgetting about the smoke and with a blank expression. His hands were so big that the glass he was holding looked small, his large body and height made me wonder if he had a uniform that fit him, his familiar, broad smile, and the scar on his left chin. "...Daeman?"

Tags: Actor!Junho // Pro Basketball Player! Daeman // Original Side Characters// Fluff

우리는 낯선 계절에서 웃는 아이를 영원한 여름에 두고 (We leave the smiling child in an unfamiliar season in eternal summer)**

Author: 제제

"Junho, if you hadn’t played basketball, your grades would have definitely been better. " I know that Kwon Junho is implicitly acknowledging the words that seem to be reprimanding him. But I also know that you don’t regret our summer. Because you loved basketball more persistently than anyone else with that tenderness. That Kwon Junho makes me feel safe and makes things difficult at the same time. You weren’t someone who could carelessly project theif blatant greed. You were greedy for basketball, but that wasn’t right. You were busy. Just like you played basketball, quitting was also your choice, so you knew that it would be an important first step for you to live your present outside the court, not putting your future on the court… For that reason, I couldn’t bring myself to touch you.

Tags: Daeman POV// Introspection // Gen fic (no romance)

부탁 하나만 들어줘 (Please do me a favor)

Author: . (1110)

When is he going to get married. He seemed to be in and out of relationships, but they never lasted long. When I called my grandson, who was always light-hearted, and asked him if he should get married, he (would say), "Why bother?" As a last resort, I gave him a choice: I can confiscate all your cards, stocks, and real estate, or take a seat at a matchmaking ceremony hosted by your grandfather. Naturally, Daeman chose the latter.

Tags: Chaebol!Daeman // Strangers to Friends to...

커피집 사장님과 변호사님 (The Coffee Shop Owner and Lawyer)

Author: Marie Foster

Anyway, the lawyer doesn't have that kind of old-fashioned side to him, and he's actually a refreshing person. His appearance, his personality, and everything else are like that. He's also neat and meticulous when it comes to his work. He basically takes care of his own schedule. The only thing he asks of me is to look at his calendar with him to see if he's missed anything. But there's nothing I can do. Everything's already taken care of. It almost seems like someone else is taking care of the work, but the person who used to do my work is busy taking care of the kids, so he doesn't have the energy to take care of the lawyer's work, so I don't think that's right. I also thought, "What does your wife do?" But guess what? He said he's not married. I mean, you're a lawyer, you're in great shape, you're honestly one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen, and you're not married?

Tags: Human Rights Lawyer!Junho // Retired Professional Basketball Player! Daeman // OC POV ("Anonymous")// Fluff

전하지 못한 편지 (An Undelivered Letter)**

Author: 보라별

I will probably never forget that shining moment we had together last summer. That moment made me realize once again how much I love basketball and how much I love this time with you guys. Thank you for making me realize the things I love much deeper and stronger than I thought, and for creating unforgettable memories in it. More than anything else, I am most grateful that you didn't give up and came back. I may not be able to play basketball like I do now, but I have decided to live my life without letting go of even a small part of it. Thanks to you. I am grateful for that too.

Tags: Confession // Flash forward

'좋아요'가 뭐라고 (What Does "Like" Mean?)

Author: 날치

I understand that you must have been taken aback by this sudden contact. I was so surprised that I sent the message right away without even explaining the situation. Sorry. But if it's okay, could you please not tell your teacher that I contacted you like this?

Please

Huh? Teacher? A's eyes widened at the completely unexpected mention.

hello

hello;

You're Jung Daeman, right…?

That's right, yes.

Ok

And, by teacher, are you talking about Kwon Junho?

Tags: High School Teacher! Junho // Pro Basketball Player! Daeman // OC POV ("A", High School Student) // Social Media

버저 비터 (Buzzer Beat)

Author: 날치

Kwon Jun-ho stepped back a few steps and scanned the basketball court very slowly from right to left. And Taiwan, who was looking at that figure, suddenly realized. Kwon Jun-ho was saying goodbye to the basketball court.

Tags: Canon Timeline (Last IH Game) // Introspection // Confession

고백의 첫걸음 (The first step of confessing)

Author: 참보리

Jung Daeman was receiving a confession. From a man. Again. And the one who witnessed it was Kwon Junho, a third year student.

Tags: Highschool Setting// Confession // Mutual Pining // Feelings Realization // Original Side Characters

[pageofheartdj]

SOOOO

We know there were supposed to be two more turtles, right? I don’t know the turtle lore but people have names: Venus and Jennika!

They would be their own characters, like everyone else in Rise so thankfully I don’t have to know much turle lore for this xD

FIRST. The ages! Wanna the girls to be the oldest sisters cause that would be funny xD And give Raph yet another existential crisis! He is not a leader anymore and he is not the oldest sibling anymore xD Mikey - 14, Donnie and Leo - 15, Raph - 16, Venus - 17, Jennika - 18.

Now, we know like 99% where is one of the turtles.

I wonder if Big Mama knows. There is a chance she doesn’t since she didn’t try once to pull anything with Lou. She probably found a turtle baby and took her in thinking she is a yokai and raised as her assistent. I hc her to be Venus.

The next own is my top favourite headcanon I will NEVER let go until canon says otherwise xD

JESSICA! Sounds suspiciously like Jennika xD And as far as I remember she is the only not-background girl who doesn’t have lipstick and in general her mouth is more wide, turtle-like. Now that makes me wonder what does this mean for her character and her not giving anything away to Leo. She described Leo’s look like a costume. Is she not aware or lying? And she herself looks like a human and I don’t see any cloaking brooch on her.

Their weapons probably would be from comics. With Venus wielding tessen? and Jennika wielding kuzuri?

NOW! The more specific headcanons xD Jennika is a bit taller than the twins and Venus is slightly shorter than the twins. yes kjsha

Their mystic abilities.

I don’t have much xD I would give Jennika illusions because she has to look like a human SOMEHOW. Would be cool for her to discover it on her own early on. I am curious how she ended up on the surface. Personal hc for now: she was found by a human and was took in and because she looked like a turtle she couldn’t get out and was home schooled by her overworked mom. That made her determined to learn how to fend for herself. She unlocked her mystic abilities, got into Lou Jitsu movies(everyone has to have it as a part of their childhood!!) and eventually got into wrestling where her showmanship’s strike was revealed and she quickly earned a stable job in there. She dislikes her turtleness and that’s why she refused to engage with Leo further.

And Venus? How about magnetic field. She can pull things in to herself and push them back for extra speed and damage. What if she did not discover it yet because of the repressed life style despite living among yokais. She also knew of Lou Jitsu and secretely idolized him. Though she knew about him not from movies from the human world, but from his fights in Nexus. She also unconsciously envied him for ‘getting away’. She is still loyal to Big Mama.

Now the relationships with the fam once they are discovered.

Jennika is very loyal to her mother but she is not interested in such a sudden big family. She is not much into it but is dragged anyway xD She can bond with Raph over their love for wrestling and will be openly critical about Leo’s humour(yes the Neon Leon xD) and not respect the squirt. Mikey will be fawning over her and she will be a bad influence on him, she likes him though, he is funky xD Donnie isn’t sure about her and constanly goes back and forth between liking her and being sus xD And she tries to use him which is not THAT hard xD (not malicious intent and hey the kid can get something out of it too xD)

Venus is... she WANTS a family but she doesn’t really know how to have one. The proper one. She is very much into hierarchy so she will be supportive with Leo being sort of adviser for him, but will shut Raph down, which will frustrate him. Mikey will be frustrated with her too, since he will try to be as open and welcoming with her as possible but she is just unreachable. She isn’t used to show her real emotions and frankly she doesn’t know how and doesn’t reciprocate Mikey’s attempts in inclusion. She will get along with Donnie very nicely though. Since Donnie doesn’t push himself on her and she is very interested in his science since she was deprived of human things.

[weightedblankettt]

The Literature Girl Insane MV, and “Proof” that Levi is Arei’s Murderer.

Okay, so, you may be wondering. “Blanket, you already covered this in your analysis! Why are you reiterating yourself?!”

First of all, don’t you dare sass me, dear reader. Second of all, I wanted to make this its own post because I feel like it’s relevant. And third of all… I really, really like making my Levi fan friends scream in agony.

Anyways, moving on! Let’s go back to raspbeyes’ solution of the crossword puzzle.

Now, pay close attention to Levi’s number. IX. Of course, with it being the number nine, I can’t imagine that has any significance to my point. However, it’s the message that’s associated with him that piques my interest.

IX. That’s the number that appears… Right about here.

“Look aside from that, give me the usual medicine.” That’s how I interpret this message. And unless the real solution is something like… “The usual look aside, give me from that medicine.”, then this is the only answer.

The quote itself might be representative of Levi’s life. He wants to “look aside” from his past, and… The medicine symbolism is a mystery to me. But that’s not important, so we can skip by that:

The background images is what catches my eye, and ties this entire theory together.

Now, you might not know what this image signifies. And frankly, I didn’t either, until I looked into it further and found out that this was a study on Comet Shoemaker-Levy. For those of you that are unaware as to what that is, aside from the obvious parallel to Levi’s name and talent, it was a comet that circled Jupiter for about a decade before crashing into the surface of Jupiter and being torn apart.

Now, look back at the image. Especially take note of the “final orbit”, or the dotted line amongst the full ones. If you take Jupiter to be representative of death, and the sun to be representative of birth, then the rest falls into place. The graph represents Levi’s life coming to an end.

While you could argue that something like this is, somehow, an overdrawn coincidence, take note of how he acts during the trial itself. You can read my accusation doc on Levi for more detail and photographic evidence of these, but he tends to offer misleading theories only to immediately back down on his word. At one point, he heavily begins to accuse Arei, he stays silent during Arturo’s meltdown, and nearly rushes the vote during David’s big reveal.

These are all lines that happen within seconds of each other. Even if you ignore the growing possibility that Levi and Arei received each other’s secrets, there’s too many of his actions that don’t line up.

Come on. These are thinly-veiled attempts to pin the blame on Eden.

Levi Fontana hung Arei. That is my conclusion!

[hauntedjpegcollection]

same old

wc: 2312 au: core au ch: xavier, benji

The parking lot to the office building is dead empty. It used to make him nervous—parking lots at night, big empty space. A flood light flickers and barely illuminates his path up to the stone steps. Windows line the front, real two way mirror like. Can’t see out as well as you can see in. That also used to make him nervous—Xavier figures he was a pretty nervous man before. But when he shakes off his coat and tosses it onto a rack aside the door, a man at the welcome counter whistles. It relaxes him instantly, this friendly greeting, this familiar face.

“Wolffe, you see that plan on last nights game? Whiffed it, he fuckin’ did, yeah?”

“Go easy on the guy. First time playing after a knee injury? Like you could do better.” Xavier leans over the counter to fish for a pen on a messy desk. Banner heaves back in the office chair, booted feet propped up on the counter. The toes are scuffed to death and they’re clunky and militant, obviously old. He’s former…something. Xavier never actually remembers—which is sort of nice. It’s hazy anyway, just like his own flimsy background that has somehow held for as long as it has. Most of the British don’t seem to care if he was Air Force, Navy, Marine or what.

“I’d hold it down, my own. ‘Fore the—”

“Before the bullet, right, right.” Xavier nods along, grinning toothily as he signs his name into visitors. Not entirely necessary, but since his paperwork is also flimsy, he likes following rules. Makes it easier. Lessens the everyday hovering fear that something will one day happen to take all this away. “Tell Eden I said hello. Meant to bring in the casserole dish, but—” he gestures to the oil stained mechanics jumpsuit.

“Right off from work?”

“Cut out early.”

“Lazy dog!”

“Woof,” Xavier jokes, tongue out as he pushes through the side door that leads into a long, beige hallway.

Used to be Xavier couldn’t stand the color. Reminds him of…

He hangs a right, sidesteps a short woman whose hair is pulled back in a severe bun.

“Going to call security on you one day,” she comments, eyes cutting up above small, rectangular glasses. Xavier presses both hands to his heart, attempts his sweetest, most good boy smile. It might not land, with the little bit of gray that’s seemed to finally push through at his temples. Luckily, the office he’s looking for is only a few steps backward and to the left. Xavier’s hand closes around the little gold knob just as the woman is rolling her eyes and turning back to a printer that will likely occupy her for a full night.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, holding up his broad hands in surprise. Xavier frowns, brows pulling together. He makes a quick glance behind him to the glass window pane that has a last name on it, in big black lettering. “I’m looking for someone. Have you seen,” he turns and steps forward, hands closing onto the back of a chair. It’s nice than those standard wooden chairs in some of the other offices—someone had clearly thought of comfort first, when putting these in here. For whoever might be in The Veterans Affairs office—who might need comfort before anything else.

“My husband? He’s around this tall,” Xavier touches his chest, admittedly a bit suggestively. “Dresses almost entirely in black and has the prettiest eyes. I haven’t seen him in, like, a week?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Benji sighs, tossing paperwork onto his desk.

Maybe it was because Xavier had only just been sitting in his car, looking through old pictures on his phone that Benji’s appearance strikes a hard chord inside his heart. It’s devastating occasionally, knowing time just sort of passes like it does. Xavier feels it slip through his fingers, that metaphor of sand or water or whatever the fuck getting away too quickly. One day, he was standing in front of a job fair booth, making the worst decision of his life; the next day, he was waking up next to a result of that decision and the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Benji removes his glasses, tossing them alongside the paperwork. He pinches the bridge of his handsome, curved nose. He must have been the last of his soldiers already, because he’s yanked all his hair back haphazardly with a claw clip that barely contains all those curls. Gray weaves through them, a thick band that sprouts from one temple and blends with his raven ink colored hair.

He’d gone gray first. Xavier thinks it started back in the forest, with the wound. Benji had aged ten years in that moment, knife slit in his side. Xavier, when he’d finally found himself back in his lovers arms, months and months later, had found the first gray hair. He’d put his lips to it, his nose to it, in that way Xavier showed affection and breathed Benji in and made peace with the fact that the gray would stay.

A dog breathes in the corner, a soft snuffling sounds. Anika lays there, in her SERVICE ANIMAL vest, utterly tuckered out and asleep. Her side rises and falls in that soothing, animal pattern. One of her back legs kick, like she’s firmly inside a nice, sunny dream.

Xavier slinks around the chair he’d been leaning on, hand walking across Benji’s desk. He pokes fingers into paperwork, slides it just a bit further away. Benji snorts at the gesture and it makes Xavier pouty, until he’s firmly on the other side of the desk. Then he can’t hel smiling again, leaning back against Benji’s messy workspace, feet spread to make himself a bit shorter for his husband.

“Promise I didn’t come to revisit the old argument,” Xavier says, holding up his hand in a mock scout salute. Benji’s long hours, huge case load, dedication to his job, all had already been a sore spot at more than one dinner table argument. But sometimes Xavier liked that—what they argued about seemed simple and domestic and sweet because of it. Letting the laundry sit too long so it got wrinkled, or ordering the wrong sized door for the shed they were building, or that Benji worked himself to death sometimes or that Xavier felt he didn’t work enough, didn’t pull his weight, didn’t really add enough to their income.

Benji’s dark hands lift, slide around Xavier’s thighs and squeeze. He pulls himself closer, resting his cheek against the rough material of the mechanics jumpsuit on Xavier’s stomach.

“Mm,” he hums. “Love you in this, y’know.”

“Do you want me to leave and walk back in and pretend I’m just some lost mechanic? Get a little roleplay with it?” Benji’s laugh is a soft bark, something that moves his shoulders. Xavier brushes fingers through that jet black and steel gray hair, appreciating how it causes Benji’s hands to tighten around his thighs as if in reflex.

“Naw,” he drawls and tilts his head back until his chin is resting on the lower part of Xavier’s stomach. A strong current of hot blood suddenly rushes straight to that spot, leaving Xavier dry mouthed and dizzy. “I wanna go home.” Benji’s dark, husky voice makes that hot blood pool painfully lower. Those pretty eyes blink up at him, making it even worse. Xavier groans, loudly, completely unashamed of the sudden and intense desire for his husband.

“Say fucking less,” he mumbles, quickly bending to dark a few kisses to Benji’s mouth and cheek and accidentally, his eyebrow. It causes more laughter, which does not make his hard on any less hard.

—

It’s not noise or temperature or a dream that wakes Xavier up. It’s sheer absence of a body next to his own, when nightly, there is a body beside him. His pale hand pats around the bed, searching for Benji and coming up empty. Xavier lays flat on his stomach, still half asleep, drifting in and out of a dream that was all green and blue and warm. He blinks himself awake, forces consciousness in the wake of realizing he’s alone in their bed. He rises, stumbling a little bit.

Xavier’s long body tips over as his hands scramble along the floor to find his boxers. He tugs them on, yawning with his head tilted back. The elastic snaps on his hips. He notices how much tighter they feel, a little roll of fat above the band. He pinches it, grumbling to himself, because he wasn’t sure where all that came from.

He leaves the bedroom, scratching idly at an itch on his side. Fingers run accidentally on scar tissue, but he pays it no attention because it’s an old wound. A before wound—a knife slipped up to take his life and having missed, just made his pale, freckly skin less pretty there. Xavier doesn’t think about that old scar anymore, barely thinks of any of them. Not even the one along his jaw, since he’s regularly kept just a thin layer of five o’clock shadow. Now that it doesn’t grow in so God damn patchy.

Sleepiness still clings to him, dragging him down like a warm blanket, so he nearly trips over Anika. She’s laid on her side, in the hallway, which is where she tends to sleep if Benji’s left the bedroom. The poor girl raises a head and then lays it back down, her tail thumping softly.

“I know, girl,” Xavier says, bending to pet her big, blocky head. He gives her a sweet kiss to the face, a thank you for forever protecting his husband when Benji refuses to wake Xavier up.

It was funny that the insomnia didn’t really go away. There were good stretches of time where Benji slept fine. Better than fine, there were Sundays were they overslept and stayed in bed and cat napped through out the day. Most days, Xavier woke up before Benji to be at the shop early—and Benji was still asleep. Not the half sleep he’d become accustomed too when he’d first come home (here, home). Benji, flitting through a hundred different nightmares, on the precipice of being awake during every single one. That wasn’t real rest.

But Benji did get real rest these days. Most of the time. Love was not a cure all for everything, though. And the insomnia stuck around more often than Xavier would have liked.

The TV is on, but the sound is so soft it’s more for light than anything else. Benji lays on the couch, arms around himself, tucked inward. His side rises and falls softly, but Xavier doesn’t believe for a second he’s truly asleep. It’s that half state again. He can tell because Benji’s fingers dance, twitching here and there.

Xavier says nothing as he approaches. He continues to say nothing as he takes Benji’s wrist and slowly unravels the former medic. Benji makes a few noises himself, a grunt here and there. A resigned sigh. Xavier doesn’t care and he doesn’t stop. He merely tugs Benji up from the couch and starts the walk back to their bedroom. It’s almost child like, pulling him along. He can picture the dour, petulant expression across Benji’s face; caught in his ridiculous independent act. He didn’t like bothering Xavier, he didn’t want to toss and turn in bed when the other man needed sleep. Even years together, Benji had a hard time asking for things.

There’s no use arguing over it. And besides, before it made Xavier angry. Now, he feels nothing but this surging, protective affection that makes him yank back the blankets and shove at Benji to get back into the bed.

“Dickhead,” he mumbles grouchily.

“Mhm,” Xavier hums, climbing in as well. Mean old fuck, Xavier thinks fondly, lovingly, happily. He tucks arms around Benji’s broad torso and yanks him back into the cushion of his chest and thighs, spoons around him like a warm blanket. Benji mumbles something else, not really meant to be heard. Xavier presses a kiss to skin, anywhere he can find it. Shoulder, neck, behind Benji’s ear.

“Sorry,” Benji finally folds. “Not a nightmare, alright? Just couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to—”

“Just bother me,” Xavier interrupts. “I like being bothered.” He flattens a hand and gropes across Benji’s chest to make him laugh. It’s a lovely, husky sound. Xavier presses another aimless kiss. “Besides, I already called off tomorrow.”

“You never call off work.” Which was true. Xavier’s loyalty and work ethic combined was dog like. Anika would be jealous. Or, if she could communicate, she’d probably tell her stupid humans to stop being so stubborn, so annoying and also to buy more quail eggs for her. Before Xavier can answer, Benji is hauling away from him and patting at the bedside table. There’s a brief illumination—the pale sickly light of technology—and then the thumb patting sound of Benji texting. The phone’s put down and then Benji wiggles back into place—which is both adorable and very hilarious, considering he’d been the one to wander out of the bedroom in the first place.

Xavier does not point out the sudden change of heart. Instead, his fingers brush softly through coarse, black body hair at Benji’s navel.

“I just texted Graham and said I was using a sick day.”

“Ooooooh,” Xavier whispers into Benji’s ear. “So bad.” And he yanks them together tighter, eliciting a huff of affection. Maybe if they were younger, the loss of anticipation for next day responsibilities would have spurned them into turning toward each other with wandering hands. They would have kissed and fucked and talked the entire night. Instead, Benji actually falls asleep. His breathing is a soft, beautiful pattern against Xavier’s arm, tucked as it is underneath him.

[thewingedwolf]

i am rewatching shadow & bone bc, once again, i am a parody of myself, and i really am so fond of Mal in the show, i am deeply nervous about how he’ll be written in s2 lol. not as nervous about almost everyone else - i say ALMOST bc i was not impressed with the way Jesper & Nina weren’t shown to be bisexual, like, at all, & while i think it was just clumsy writing & not malice (the same as the clumsy way they wrote Alina’s race), that doesn’t mean it’ll get better lol. also pls understand i spend half my time shitting on the darklng, ben barnes does an excellent job reminding me why i hate that bitch okayyyy

Mal already knows that Alina’s tent with the other cartographers was moved, and knows where it moved. We first see him fighting but seems like he got there, immediately attempted to find Alina, figured out she had been moved and was wandering around, then said fuck it she’ll find me or i’ll find out she got thrown in lock up again, and decided to go beat someone up so he could show off his kruge in front of her lmao

Alina is interested in the grisha. she’s smiling and curious, clearly thinks Zoya looks cool af (she’s right, Zoya is cool af). Mal spends the entire time frowning at them lol. Could be bc a grisha just crashed his party, could be mal’s general dislike of grisha and the upper class. it’s very funny either way that he just Refuses to smile until Alina distracts him

Alina experiencing A Racism but still thinking quick enough so her team can eat makes me emo but also Mal immediately being like “time to commit some crimes” every single time someone is racist to Alina is so great, get u a real man like Mal

Racism is done very messily in the show and i’m hoping it improves bc like - Zoya is insulated from most racism due to her status, but we still get that comment about “YOU from Novokribirsk?” comment from another Grisha, which seemed like a pretty obvious slight at her being Suli. Alina experiences racism everywhere she goes from nearly everyone she meets - random cooks, cartographers, servants, Zoya, and the Darkling himself. Even Genya sort of brushes off the comment about her eyes as like, typical bullying and not something very different & much more insidious. Mal looks uncomfortable at the anti Shu Han propaganda & I think that’s it? Which feels weird bc he doesn’t have the class protection Zoya has, but maybe he doesn’t *look Suli* culturally the way Zoya and Inej clearly do. Or are Mal AND Alina both supposed to be Shu Han? We know from Inej and Nina (and maybe Zoya, idk, i never read king of scars bc i would have to acknowledge Matthias & David’s deaths and I refuse) that the Suli are still mistreated on a legal level in addition to social, but are maybe treated marginally better than the Shu that live in Ravka, bc Ravka is in an active war against Shu Han. Is that the difference in what Mal experienced vs what Alina does? lol or i’m overthinking something that clearly wasn’t thought out very well before they put it in the show. I just like. Do Not think Mal is meant to be a white Ravkan, firstly bc Archie isn’t a white brit, and secondly because - look at him aksjdjd that is not a man that can really pass for white. I hope they handle Alina’s background better, especially since she’ll be interacting with other Shu characters, in s2 but i also want an explanation for Mal’s background!!!

I do think it’s funny that the sickness grisha get if they don’t use their powers is very informed in the show. Mal makes a few comments about Alina being sick all the time but she doesn’t actually look or act sick at any point in the show aksksk

Mal is so strong, like the dude is fuckin ripped, a fucking volcra tries to rip Alina away and he’s just like “yeah i can take this bitch with one hand” aksjsj

I feel bad for that lil blond boy that clearly has a thing for Alina lmao he really tries to stick up for her and she does not even notice a little bit and then he dies bc West Ravka is like “anyways don’t get captured even tho we’re at war with half the world and you have no resources, crew, or family over here” ya, they’re way better than Old Ravka smh (Zlatan is just as big of a bitch as the king and darklng dammit)

Interesting that Zoya only gets shitty with Alina after both the Darklng & Mal clearly choose her over Zoya. Mal she probably doesn’t gaf about, but it definitely stung her pride that she can’t even pull an orphan from Keramzin but Alina can. Before that tho, even if she’s thrown by Alina, she clearly sees Alina as One Of Us. She even looks visibly annoyed when everyone starts laughing at Alina and her “i’m a mapmaker” response & seems to pick up on the implied racism of the “what are you” question. It’s an annoying response that after being rejected, Zoya uses that racism against Alina to put her in her place but like…I guess it’s not wildly ooc? bleh.

Ivan and Fedyor purposefully ignoring the Shu Of It All when talking about power and privilege is 100% why Alina takes so long to trust the grisha, and so easily turns against the Darklng imo. For all they understand the danger of being Grisha, for all Ivan wants to lecture Alina about her privilege at dinner, none of them even bother to understand what it’s like now, right now, for the poor of Ravka. You serve in the army & let the Darklng indoctrinate you with his nonsense, or you flee like the mother in the first episode does, taking your chances with the slavers & the volcra & the Fjerdans. There are no good choices for the grisha, no good choices for the non grisha peasantry, and Alina’s entire existence, from the never ending racism she experiences, to the death and starvation she’s surrounded by, is a constant reminder how few choices that exist no matter if you’re grisha or not.

So like, most of the bad guys have Weird Foreign Accents and I dislike it. All the Ravkans should have Russian accents but it’s only Fedyor & a few mean servants that do. The Fjerdans all have accents. Pekka has an accent. Everyone else is just a brit, including people in Kerch, even tho they don’t even speak the same language as the Ravkans do, they speak Kerch! Why does Kaz not have some country bumpkin accent dammit

“When our closest friend is in trouble, we do foolish things.” Smash cut to Kaz doing the Dumbest shit in an attempt to protect Inej from Heleen l m a o it’s not one whipped bitch in this show it’s two (it’s three actually, Matthias just hasn’t shown up yet lmao)

When Mal & Alina are both envisioning each other & reach out to hold the others’ hand, hundreds of miles away but desperate for comfort, THAT was the moment i fell for them. Archie & Jessie are just so Powerful okay aksjdjd

feels more obvious in retrospect that he’s not trying to train her to do anything but answer to him. he doesn’t even bother preparing her for the king bc he knows he can amplify her powers, so long as she’s not fighting him.

I do not buy Baghra’s insistence that Alina’s feelings for Mal hold her back. She’s able to summon her powers when she’s angry, and Baghra takes that short cut by continuously pissing Alina off. But Alina also uses her powers whenever she thinks of protecting Mal; she protects him on the skiff & when she remembers trying to run away with him for protection, she can summon a bit of her power. It’s Alina’s compassion that gives her abilities, but Baghra has spent so much time nurturing her own bitterness, watching her son nurture his anger, it just never occurs to her that Alina’s strength comes from her desire to protect the people she loves. Alina goes from wanting solely to protect Mal to channeling her power through her anger and rejection & Baghra treats it like a win but it’s just another shortcut that clearly makes her more susceptible to the Darklng whispering in her ear, not less, and if Baghra had any goddamn sense, she would have seen that she was making her son’s job easier. But like, the darklng didn’t just come out of nowhere lmao, and you can clearly see where he gets his defeatist, manipulative, and bleak ass outlook on life from.

As a certified Matthias stan still refusing to acknowledge the end of crooked kingdom, i think it is genuinely so funny that Mal gets chest wound after gut wound after chest wound in s1 and shrugs it off, but Matthias gets shot one (1) time and dies immediately & cannot be saved by the most powerful heartrender that ever lived. leigh PLS

“you are my true north and i can see my way to you now” IM JUST.

Genya has to hurt Alina’s feelings by lying about Mal, then immediately and smoothly changes the subject to something that will make Alina laugh. She knows she has to betray Alina and she tries her hardest to soften the blow, encourages Alina to return to the blue kefta instead of going too hard towards the Darkling so she has the protection of a color and a people, warns her as best as she can to be wary of the Darklng, even while she’s helping isolate Alina from anyone who could help her escape. i’m so depressed about Genya.

Enter David and Genya loses her damn mind ansjsjdjdjd Alina is doing miracle sun summoning and Genya just watches David the whole time, who probably cannot fucking believe his luck that his weird ass boss for ONCE is letting him hang out with the meanest, coolest, smartest person in the palace instead of Ivan & Fedyor, who spend all their time flirting with each other and bullying him

Fjerda is lichrally trying to commit genocide against the grisha & Shu Han does…some jacked up shit to their grisha lol, and i did a whole post about how the Darklng is just more of the same, but so is Baghra. All their talk of looking out for Grisha, but they both treat the peasantry of Ravka as disposable. Nikolai is theeeee only valid ruler specifically bc he does think of the cost to the peasantry & to the grisha before he makes decisions (something his father and his brother also don’t do lol). And both Baghra & Aleksander allow this “us vs them” bs to permeate through their own people - no grisha healers help the first army, and Ivan reads the dead but glosses over the Otkazat'sya deaths to focus on the grisha. but this is on purpose - if you make the grisha other the Otkazat'sya, you can easily turn them against one another. neither baghra nor aleksander ever work towards like, actual freedom for the grisha by building bridges and relationships between the grisha and the Otkazat'sya, they just turn the grisha into weird, insular child soldiers.

Alina realizing she can just swing on the racists now love that for her

Mal tends to deal with his feelings for Alina bubbling to the surface by purposefully breaking the tension; closing his eyes & going to sleep when they’re thrown in the brig, cracking a joke about going to Ketterdam when he steals her food. But their convo in the woods after they’re reunited is the first time he doesn’t try it - you can almost see he wants to, when she says she cheated on the grisha test bc she didn’t want to leave him, his whole brain short circuits at what it could mean, and it’s a moment where he might have purposefully broken the tension but instead he takes a minute to think before he tries to open up abiut his own feelings - only to get derailed & heartbroken by the realization that the stag drawing wasn’t Alina trying to communicate with him, but Aleksander manipulating & isolating her. But he still doesn’t break the tension - he lets Alina hold him, and he holds her in return, & stops running from his feelings for real this time.

I do find it so funny how Aleksander sees David raising his hand to speak, initially starts to tell him to knock it off, and then realizes David will not understand why Ivan and him find it annoying & just decides to choose his battles aksjjdjd.

Also, him going through the five stages of grief when he realizes Mal & Alina are together, and overdramtigcally monologuing about the orphans of Keramzin being reunited to this random dude who has no idea wtf he’s talking about. Perfect, no notes.

Episode 7 is just very well written. All the conversations are tense, all the action is painful, all the acting is amazing. From David half in tears as he helps enslave Alina, all the anger going out of Alina when she realizes the king was raping Genya, Genya’s guilt & shame over her own hand in betraying Alina stopping her from talking even though she’s usually so composed, Mal’s helpless snarl when he says Aleksander will wish he’d killed him, even Aleksander’s inability to look Alina in the eyes because he knows she’s right to hate him it’s just that he thinks she’s a justifiable sacrifice. Meanwhile the Crows are being the most chaotic idiots ALIVE akskdkdk just perfect, excellent writing.

What i think is interesting is that Alina makes the hypocrisy argument to Genya, and it works. Genya appeals to Alina’s compassion when she admits the king has been raping her, but Alina pieces together that Aleksander placed her in front of the king to begin with. Not a soldier, just a pawn. And Genya is so struck by this argument she has no counter; she just leaves in tears. Alina tries this with Aleksander as well, to get him to see the hypocrisy in his actions - of killing the king because the king is a monster, yet using the fold as a weapon. It has the complete opposite effect because whereas Genya is aware on some level that she’s being used, Aleksander is so far removed from his own experiences as a pawn, as a target, he can’t see her point.

“all countries will answer to us. for who would oppose us now?”

means Something to me that Immediately after that nasty comment from that heartrender, Zoya sees another Suli girl (who, if we remember, someone she is friends with just called Suli trash before getting got by said Suli girl) who is about to be killed, witnesses the destruction of her home and what she will find is the death of the only person who ever loved her as a child, and makes the decision to betray the only stability she’s ever known for the glimmer of hope that Alina can offer her.

It’s also exactly what I mean when I say I hope we get an explanation for Mal’s background. In Inej’s chapters we get the sense that the Suli are a people that draw close together, even outside Ravka. Her curse on Bajan clearly hits him hard; even clearly trying to assimilate into Kerch culture, the thought that his Suli ancestors may forsake him for harming a fellow Suli really gets under his skin. So in the show, what I love is we get a small exploration of this bond that exists between all Suli as outsiders in their home countries - Zoya and Inej instinctively working together, Recognizing that bond in each other, with Inej even attempting to stop Zoya from going back to the ruins of the city, of wanting Zoya to stay with them. And Zoya, despite her pained history with her own people, despite her comments about Alina being [redacted], clearly returns those feelings. She’s so much warmer with Inej, and vice verse, then say, Jesper is with Mal (he’s not cold to Mal, he’s just Typical Jesper). The thing is - maybe you could argue Zoya and Mal kind of take a small interest in each other because they recognize the other is Suli, but Inej and Mal don’t really have that connection in the time they know each other, and Zoya and Mal are much more cordial with each other than Zoya and Inej are. OBVIOUSLY there are other factors at play. But. Whereas we get a hint of Zoya’s own complicated past, and Inej is defined by her ties to her culture, Mal doesn’t really show any of this beyond one single uncomfortable look at a Shu Han propaganda poster, and that’s likely more to do with Alina than his own background. I JUST THINK ITS WEIRD AND CLUMSY OKAY.

idek what to say about Alina’s amazing speech besides HELL YEAH THATS MY WIFE. she’s so fucking cool.

Ivan’s lil bitch ass being like “know your place” RIGHT AFTER Alina gives her “you asked WHAT I am” speech and then Jesper being like “i think the fuck not” and tossing him overboard. absolutely perfect i love that man.

Zoya looks so uncomfortable during the whole conversation by the fire. For the first time, she’s the outsider - the lone splash of color against the browns and blacks of the crows and malina. But when Zoya says she has to go back, Inej shoots up to stop her, and even Kaz attempts to dissuade her from what he thinks is no better than a suicide run. Since her childhood, Zoya has seemed alone, but just as her aunt stepped in to save her then, and the crows attempt to console her now, Zoya is never as alone as she feels.

And neither is Alina! Knowing where their stories end up going, i think it is interesting that both Zoya and Alina are very adaptable and very adept at making very loyal friends. Despite all the odds against them, with them being Suli and Shu, with Zoya being a huge bitch (which I love) and Alina constantly struggling with her own self worth, other people see just how amazing the two of them are and are willing to fight for them, with them, to be near them. Sankta Alina and the Grisha Queen. Wonderful.

[blackacre13]

Have you read The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo? can you make a loubbie verison please?

This book had me bawling and singing its praises, so this is an HONOR❤️✨ I will never do TJR’s novel Justice, but here is a poor attempt:

There had been a lot of press about me over the years. Scandalous headlines. Award nominations. Rumors. Pity parades. But no one truly knew my story. No one truly knew who Deborah Ocean was. Because well, Debbie Ocean wasn’t real. She was really Devorah Mayim. But I didn’t want to be restricted to a culture or a religion or a family or a background. I wanted to be famous. And I wanted to be famous for being me.

It was inappropriate and a bit rash I’m sure to go about an interview knowing I was going to give a story that was anything but what the magazine was looking for, but even if the magazine was mad, I was going to change this reporter’s damn life. Not that auctioning my gowns to raise money for cancer wasn’t a worthy cause. It was. Most certainly so. After all, cancer had taken my reason for living away not once. But twice. But it was no story. My life. That was the story.

The young girl seems intimidated. And hell, most people would be. But I’m not most people. She has no idea that I’m about to change her life. And she hasn’t the faintest clue that she will be the first human in the world to truly learn the story of Debbie Ocean, starlet and celebrity turned recluse.

It’s easy enough to begin. The smaller parts of my story are the ones that don’t affect me so. They don’t matter as much. They helped shape who I am, of course, but they don’t weigh as heavy on or torture my soul. They’re just artifacts.

My first husband is like that. Linus Caldwell. He was nice enough. A baby face. A boring but stable job. Chivalrous. He knew he was getting more than he bargained for in more ways than one. But he had enough income that he could help me run. And that’s what was important to me at the time.

Dennis Mayim was the devil. He was volatile. He abused my mother. He abused me. And I vowed every night that I would make my way out of Hell’s Kitchen and flee the city for a life that was better. Different.

I was upfront with Linus about this. We had our fun, and I showed him plenty of it, but he was my escape hatch. My safety valve. He wasn’t the love of my life. And that made it easier than ever for me to walk away.

Linus told me he always knew I’d leave him for another man, and that was true. But it wasn’t for love. It was for fame. And I’d never been dishonest about my goals. Robert Ryan, or Rusty, as the industry knew him, was an up and coming producer at Sunset Studios and we became fast friends. He wanted to produce films with stars and I wanted to be a star. He told me I had what it takes.

Linus was done. And Devorah was good as dead. I didn’t want my father trying to convince anyone he was owed any of my money anyway.

Claude was Rusty’s idea. Having a beau on my arm who was already a famous actor would only boost my star and help me on the road to fame. And I won’t lie, he was good…in the kitchen. What started as a publicity stunt turned into something real. It happened when you spent as much time together as we did. We had a lavish wedding. It was a gorgeous affair. A steamy honeymoon. And a Heaven of a homecoming. On camera at least. Hollywood doesn’t pay much attention to what truly happens behind closed doors. Especially when they can’t see the bruises or hear the yelling.

With a scotch in hand and a cigar in his mouth as he cursed at me, I realized my mistake. I’d married my father. I’d been blinded by the potential for fame and success. I hadn’t seen the yield signs.

But beauty is pain. And he was only taking it out on me because I was having an affect on his career as well. Who cares about Claude Becker when he was being outshone by his stunning, glamorous wife, Debbie Ocean? Not enough people for Claude’s liking.

It’s a relief when I am offered a different sort of role. I’ve done the sex. I’ve done the romance. I am tired of playing second fiddle and arm candy to Claude on film and in life. Josephine March was a role that would change all of that. Jo was serious. Aspirational. A writer. A leader. An inspiration to her sisters. It was going to put me on a pedestal and let me be seen in a whole different light. I was ecstatic.

The trouble, you see, was something else entirely. There are four March sisters. Amy is a nuisance. Meg is kind but dull. But Beth? Poor, sweet Beth, who falls ill and is taken from the world too soon? She could steal the show. And worse, she could steal the academy award.

I didn’t know anything about Louise Miller except that she was beautiful and talented. Younger than me. Bolder than me. And that bitch was going to steal my Oscar.

I didn’t know anything about Louise Miller except that she was beautiful and talented. Younger than me. Bolder than me. And that bitch was going to steal my Oscar.

[nitecourtfairytail]

Heavy Hearts

Y’all. Formatting on tumblr SUUUUUUCKS. Just fyi. So if you wanna read this in slightly prettier format here’s the Ao3 link

Anyway, here’s chapter 9. EXPLICIT CONTENT

Rhysand is a busybody, some background info is given, Gwyn apologizes.

This is my first ever attempt at writing smut, so if it’s bad, tell me 😅

Pronunciation: Aby- AH-bee; Ommi- OH-me (like in German)

Ch. 9 Heavy (POWERS)

Rhysand couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It had barely been two weeks since the incident at Rita’s. They were all safe and together at the townhouse (minus Mor-she texted last night saying she’d gone to Rita’s and went home with someone ‘Don’t wait up! 😉’). But the revelations from last night had his mind reeling.

He shook his head, finally vacating his cozy fortress of blankets to grab his emergency toiletries from his car. He and Az had taken over Mor’s room and Cass took the pull out couch to himself.

As he skulked down the stairs trying to not wake anyone, he overheard Cassian and Elain talking in the kitchen.

“How much I love him already. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For some kind of sign that this is a dream or a fantasy that I made up to cope with reality.”

He couldn’t help but smile despite her anxieties. He had always hoped his brother would find someone to love him how he deserved to be-plus he and Cass already loved Elain like a sister. Caught up in the moment, he didn’t notice the front door creep open. But then something moved in the shadows out of the corner of his eye. He whipped his head to see Azriel trying to sneak back in the house.

“Where the fuck were YOU?!” He whispered. “I thought you were out back smoking.”

Azriel tried to hide something behind his back, straightening up. “I just ran to your car real quick.”

“What’s behind your back?” Rhys demanded. All pretense of keeping the two in the kitchen from knowing his presence gone.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel asked. His back kept to the wall as he crept sideways along it.

“You’re the one that’s been stealing the mousse out of my car?! I knew it!” Rhysand ran toward him, but Az was able to turn the corner into the kitchen, keeping him at bay behind the table, a wry smile on his face.

“Uh…..morning?” Elain offered, unsure of what to make of the scene unfolding in front of her. “Is this how you two usually wake up?” She asked neither one in particular.

“This bastard has been stealing my mousse and blaming it on Cass for months! I finally caught him in the act!” Rhysand ‘answered.’

“Well to be fair I’ve also been using it.” Cassian shrugged

Rhysand gaped at him. “You’re both bastards! I can’t believe this!”

Elain shook her head, walking toward the door to the back porch with a refilled cup of coffee in hand “it’s too early for this. What I said last night stands. We want our security deposit back, so watch the damages.”

~~~~~~

Ten minutes later Azriel stepped out to join her. He had grabbed a blanket from the living room and wrapped it around her shoulders as he walked up behind her.

She gasped in shock, obviously deep in thought, but quickly melted into his arms.

“You scared me.” She pouted

“I’m sorry. You looked cold out here.” He rested his chin on her shoulder while rubbing her arms through the blanket to relieve any chill.

“I think I might warm up faster if you were under the blanket with me.” Her cheeks flushed when she realized she’d said it out loud.

“Elain��are you flirting with me?” He asked with a wicked grin.

She bit her lip “Maybe”. He motioned for her to stand up, taking the cream blanket with light blue polka dots off of her and draping over himself. He held the corners out wide as he sat down, wrapping around her waist and pulling her to sit on his lap. The both of them giggling like children.

“Better?” He asked, nose rubbing the column of her neck.

“Much.”

They sat together in content quiet. Resting her head on his shoulder and breathing in his scent as he peppered gentle kisses to her own. Her hands on his, rubbing small circles with her thumbs.

Azriel sat forward, wiggling his hand between the edges of the blanket to grab Elain’s cigarettes on the table. Bringing one to his lips, he lit it, inhaling a deep drag. Elain turned her head toward him, slipping her fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck. She captured his lips in her own- stealing the smoke from his lungs before tilting her head up and blowing it away from them.

“Fuck that was hot.” He whispered as Elain giggled at his wild eyes.

The door to the porch swung open to Rhys, Feyre and the twins filing out.

Az closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Is ten minutes alone really too much to ask?”

“It is when Cassian and Nesta decide to shower together.” Feyre shivered, as if recalling the last time she’d been in the same house as them during one of their escapades. “I swear he sounds like a fucking animal. And not like ‘oh sexy. He’s an animal in bed’ but like ‘that’s an actual wild animal rutting in the forest’. It’s terrifying.”

“No, what’s terrifying is how much we’re going to have to pay to get that bathroom professionally cleaned.” Elain whispered to Azriel who tried to hide his snicker as a cough.

Feyre eyed the giggling couple “So, you never actually told us how you and Az met, Elain.” Feyre asked curiously. “I mean…. Obviously though Rhys and Cassian, but how did this” she waved her hand between the pair “come to be?”

Elain smiled as she recalled their embarrassing meet-cute.

“I did not say ‘beautiful ass’. I was sober enough to remember that I said ‘absolutely spectacular ass that I stopped to bask in the glory of’.” Azriel corrected the first words Elain ever heard him speak regarding herself. “I stand by that statement.”

“You really are an ass man, aren’t you?” Elain teased.

“I told you-I know what I like.” He responded by pinching her bottom under the blanket.

She gasped, staring at him wide eyed. “I can’t believe you did that!” She jutted her bottom lip out, pretending to cry.

“I’m sorry baby. Was it too far?” He kissed her temple, smiling as she melted into him.

“No. Just don’t make a habit of it.” She gave him a playful glare not too secretly hoping he in fact would make a habit of it.

“Don’t you have work today, brother?” Cassian and Nesta finally joined the group outside, the former clapping Azriel on the shoulder as he passed.

“Nah. I’m on paid leave while they investigate the ‘incident’ with Jurian. According to Perry they finished the investigation days ago, but he’s been holding them up to give me a little extra time off.” He tightened his hold on Elain, noticing she’d started dozing off. “So..Come on sleepyhead. I think it’s high time I take you on a real date.”

He slid his arm under her knees, standing up to carry her into the house as she squealed in surprise at the sudden movement.

~~~~~~

She wasn’t sure how to dress for this date. He refused to give her any information on where he was taking her. With autumn fully upon them now, the days we’re getting cooler. If she wore a dress she’d get cold, and while she’d love to be up against him all day, it would be uncomfortable being chilly for so long.

She chose a simple, but cute outfit. Black leggings with a white floral pattern, a simple white v neck and a black knit cardigan. She topped it off with her favorite pair of lace up heeled boots that were comfy enough to walk in for hours, but gave her ‘spectacular ass’ a little extra boost.

She threw on some eyeliner and mascara and plumped up her hair before walking downstairs to meet Azriel at the door. Rhysand gave him one of his ‘emergency’ shirts- a dark blue button down that almost looked like he was sewn into it.

“M’lady” he bowed, holdin out his arm for her. She curtsied, placing her hand on his arm “m’lord. They laughed at their own antics and walked out the door.

“So. Where are you taking me for our first date?” She skipped excitedly beside him.

“To start off, we’ll be taking a walk through the park.” He smiled at her. “Starting simple.”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

~~~~~~

“That spot right there-just past the water fountain” Azriel pointed to the trail across from them. A small playground with a few see saws and various creatures on springs in between the two “that’s where you kissed my cheek that day. I was already crazy about you, you know” he wrapped his arm around her waist, kissing her temple. He’s never been this open about his emotions. It was truly frightening how easily the words came outz

“I had a feeling” she playfully nudged him with her shoulder.

They kept on down the walkway when Elain spied the larger playground. “I’ve always loved swing sets. We didn’t get to play on them much as kids, but once I moved out I’d often find myself at the park in the middle of the night. I’d swing for hours just staring at the stars.”

“Well let’s go then.” He pulled her toward the awaiting play set. The few parents there with their children eyeing them warily.

They sat in the two farthest swings-away from little ears. “What about you? Did you and your brothers go to the playground as kids?”

He twisted back and forth in his swing “Once my parents got me, yeah. But before then..”

She smiled solemnly at him, but couldn’t think of what to say.

“I’ve never told anyone other than my brothers and Mor what happened-my life before this one.”

“You know you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to-“

“But I do want to. I want you to know everything about me. And I wanna know everything about you.” He grabbed her hand as they rocked themselves back and forth on their respective swings.

“What happened? I mean-if you want to talk about it.”

He huffed a laugh as the corners of his lips tilted upward ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise, love.” He teased. She rolled her eyes.

“My mom lived on the continent. She met a guy, fell in love, and a few months in she found out she was pregnant with me…and he freaked. Turns out he was married with two kids already, and mom was his side chick.”

Elain kept silent except for a grunt of disgust.

“He tried to convince mom to abort me, but she refused. So he ended up having to tell his wife and she was obviously livid, but stayed with him for whatever reason-he was well off so it was probably for his money. Anyway, I was born, and mom got sole custody, but my sperm donor would visit occasionally. The last visit, he drugged her-she passed out for HOURS. And when he left he made sure to leave the door open. Apparently I had just learned to crawl and wandered outside. It was the very beginning of spring so there were still little patches of snow and ice; it wasn’t warm enough to melt it all away.”

Elain listened in horror imagining a months old baby alone and cold.

“By the time someone found me, I’d been outside so long I was blue.”

“You poor baby! Why would he do that?!”

“So he could either get rid of me or paint my mother as neglectful and vie for custody. Whether it was true or not that she was neglectful, he had the money to pay for a better lawyer…or pay off the judge I’m not sure which. He won. And I was sent to live with him and his family.”

Elain squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb over his own.

“I wasn’t wanted by them. His wife hated me. I was kept in the unfinished basement, with a single sheet and a mattress. They gave me just enough food to survive, and that’s it. No lights. No nothing. Just darkness. His other children would come down and “play” with me-poking and prodding and hitting for their own entertainment until one day they decided to play with fire…literally.”

“Oh my gods. No.” Her eyes grew wider with fear.

“Their parents weren’t home, but one of the neighbors heard me screaming. They came running and that was the first time any of them even knew of my existence. They called the cops and took me to the ER..that’s when I met my REAL dad-the one who raised me. He was the cop assigned to my case.”

“He found my birth mom- wanted to give her a chance to redeem herself in the eyes of the court. But when I was taken from her she fell into a deep depression and turned to drugs to cope. So my parents, Drakon and his wife Miryam adopted me. Helped set up my birth mom with a rehab center, and we’re still in contact.” He smiled at the thought “Myriam-Ommi, taught me how to speak, how to read. I was the second to join the family, after Rhys. Aby-dad, transferred here not long after Cass came along to give us a fresh start.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. The rage she felt toward his birth father and his family was getting harder to control. How could someone could be so cruel to their own child?!

“How old were you?” It was all she could think of to ask.

“Six.”

She let out an angry laugh. “I’m glad you had Drakon and Myriam. And even though they’re the result of something horrific, and I know you hate them..I love your hands.”

He tilted his head, a cautiously curious look in his eyes. “No one has ever said that before.”

“They’re all fuckin idiots then. Your hands are beautiful.” She brought the one she was holding to her lips. “They’re gorgeous, and strong, and gentle, and so very sexy. Just like the rest of you.” She emphasized every adjective with a kiss.

“I think we should get out of here.”

“Why?” She asked, furrowing her brow. Had she done something wrong?

He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, pulling the chains of their swings together “I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be this turned on in front of innocent eyes.”

She stood up immediately, her cheeks blazing, pulling a chuckling Azriel behind her.

As soon as they were back on the walkway, he grabbed her from behind resting his chin on her shoulder and taking wide strides to not trip her up. Even he had to admit it was disgustingly cute how happy they were together.

~~~~~~

“Are your parents still around?” They were seated at a tiny little hole-in-the-wall pizza place that Azriel claimed was the best in Prythian. Sitting outside waiting for their food to come, Elain decided she wanted to know anything he was willing to tell her.

“Yeah.” He grabbed her hand across the table. “Ommi wants to meet you something fierce. Says she’s never seen me this happy before, and wants to thank the woman responsible.”

“Really?!” She beamed

“Yeah” he smiled to himself for a moment. “Aby too. He’s got a bit of a rough exterior-kinda comes with the job, I guess- but he’s always been kind to me and my brothers.”

“I’d love to meet them.” She told him sincerely. She’d never met Greysons parents. He claimed it was because his mom was agoraphobic and dad was a workaholic, but who knows how true that was. Either way, she was excited that the people who loved Azriel and gave him a better life wanted to meet her.

~~~~~~

“If I know my brother-and trust me, I do-he’ll be showing her his favorite restaurant right about now.” Rhysand whispered to Feyre.

“You know you don’t have to whisper, right? Like, they’re nowhere in sight, and even if they were they’d be across the street from us..” she gave him a look as if to say “there’s no way you’re that cute and that dumb.”

“True, but it adds to the intrigue.” He winked

Feyre rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t contain her smile. “Why are we spying on them anyway? I don’t understand.”

“Well , Feyre, Darling, I still can’t shake the feeing that something awful is going to happen.”

“So why don’t you just tell them that instead of being weird and watching their date. This feels wrong.” She watched as they laughed and smiled easily across the table from each other. Watched as they tenderly held each other’s hands, resting them next to their plates and napkins. It felt like watching a romantic drama, but she knew the actors.

“I knew it.” Rhysand’s voice pulled her from her haze.

“That’s Gwyn at the table behind them. I recognize her from the police station.” He said flatly

They watched, enraptured by the scene unfolding before them.

~~~~~~

“Az, sweetheart…do you know that woman?” Elain whispered, frightened.

She had been staring at them for several minutes, her large teal eyes unblinking. Her face neutral, but those eyes-they shone with malice.

Azriel turned to see who was making his girlfriend so uneasy- “LOOK OUT!”

Rhysand dashed across the street avoiding vehicles and bikes, Feyre right on his heels.

He tackled Azriel. “What the fuck, man?!” Azriel stood up, pushing his brother in the chest.

“It looked like she was reaching for a weapon!” Az followed his brother’s outstretched arm to finally notice Gwyn standing at the table behind them, her hand reaching inside her coat.

Gwyn’s eyes grew wide “No!” She finished pulling out her wallet to show everyone “I was sitting here long before Az and his girlfriend got here, but I wanted to apologize for the incident at the police station! I was gonna pay their bill!”

“Why did you look so angry, then” Elain asked, checking Azriel for any bumps or bruises from his brother’s tackle.

“I was just deep in thought..I’ve been told I have resting bitch face.” Gwyn glanced around the small group gathered and sighed.“I know you have no reason to trust me or even like me, but, can we please sit down and let me explain?”

Elain placed a gentle hand on Azriel’s arm. “I think we can do that, right?” She looked at him earnestly

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Have a seat.”

Rhysand, Feyre, and Gwyn pulled up chairs for themselves.

“Go on, It’s okay.” She gently said to the redhead.

Gwyn took a deep breath “Alright. Well.. Honestly, it starts when I was a kid. My mom, sister and I were kicked out of our community. Mom grew up sheltered and was very naive, and was taken advantage of-my twin sister, Catrin and I being the outcome..but when the community elders discovered not only were we born out of wedlock, but from a ‘forced joining’ (as they called it), she was considered impure and not allowed back.”

“Mom was lost. She never lived without her community and she longed for that kinship again..and when Cat and I were three, she found it. Unfortunately…it turned out to be a cult. Their teachings really fucked with my head. But what’s worse, mom and my sister..they started doubting the leader. So they were killed. I found them the next morning, and had a full on psychotic break.

I was only sixteen…found alone three days later in nothing but a slip, two hours from where I lived. No car, nothing. I have no clue how I got there to this day. But I received medical care, got on medication, and have been able to live a mostly normal, but quiet life.”

She looked to Azriel, “Our boss-Helion-he’s a good man. A good person, and he gave me a chance at a normal job that I enjoyed. He’s been aware of my mental issues since day one-I’m very open about them on job applications. Anyway, I ran into some financial trouble at home, between my student loans, and some issues at home (that my landlord refuses to fix) and couldn’t afford my meds..and I had another meltdown.”

“So I was just the person you latched on to?” Azriel asked thoughtfully

“Yeah.” She said bashfully “You were always nice to me when you came in the office.” Gwyn looked at Elain “Plus he’s hot, so, there’s that.” Elain nodded profusely while giggling.

Azriel flushed as she continued “I guess in my mixed up head that meant you were my boyfriend, and Jurian, the asshole that he is took advantage of my mental state and goaded me further. I’m so sorry, Azriel. I truly can’t tell you enough how sorry I am.”

“It’s okay, Gwyn. Now that I know what happened, I understand. You’re back on your medication now?” He needed to be sure she was okay.

“Yeah. Helion’s wife, Sergeant Otoño, has been kind enough to make sure I have enough until I’m able to afford them again, and they’ve been helping me with my financial issues.”

“I’m glad” he told her honestly.

Elain piped up “you know” she said more to herself than anyone else “I think you’d fit in with our friends pretty well. We all have tragic backstories-at the very least you’d be able to commiserate.” She gave Gwyn a warm smile. “I have the strangest feeling you and my sister, Nesta, would get along really well.”

The two women smiled fondly at one another before Gwyn stood.

“Thank you so much for your kindness, Azriel, Elain, and I’m sorry again for frightening everyone.” She laid down some cash on the table. “For your dinner. You two look happy together.”

“Keep it.” Az said. You can make it up to us by hanging out sometime. Maybe one of our weekly ‘framily’ dinners.”

“Thanks. I’d like that.” She began walking off, calling over her shoulder “I’ll see you around work sometime. It was nice to meet you all!”

“That was really sweet of you, Az” Elain gazed at him lovingly, leaning closer for a gentle kiss. Without turning her head, she pointed at Feyre and Rhysand who were carefully trying to extract themselves from the situation.

“You two” She growled, startling even Azriel. “I forgive you for the intrusion. I know you were simply worried about us. But next time, for Cauldron’s sake, please just call.”

~~~~~~

No cars were in the driveway, and only the living room lamp beside the couch left on. “I think your guilt trip worked” Azriel mused as they walked into the empty townhouse.

“It wasn’t a guilt trip.” Elain huffed, making her way toward the staircase. “Not intentionally anyway, but..I think you’re right.” Elain suddenly felt very nervous. She’d been wanting this time alone with him for days, but now… now she wasn’t sure.

“Do you-“ she said at the same time as his “what would-“ they both laughed anxiously.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again..bringing a girl home and having no clue what to do.” Az joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m kind of feeling the same way. I- Azriel, I WANT to be physical with you.” She hadn’t turned around. Too scared that if she saw him she’s lose her nerve to speak.

He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle. “Anything we do together is on your terms, baby. You tell me to stop, I will. No questions asked.”

“I know…” she fell silent. Enjoying the feel of his arms around her. “I’m just nervous…like a good nervous-for the most part at least..”

“Why don’t we just cuddle up, watch a movie or something, and see where things go naturally? And if it becomes too much, say the word and we’ll go back to cuddling.” He suggested. “Besides. I like holding you.” He smiled against her temple, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin.

A shaky hand held out behind her lead him up the staircase and into her room. It truly was like the first time again. They awkwardly sat next to each other on her bed while she fumbled around for her Roku remote.

It didn’t matter what she put on to watch, that tension filled the air. She settled for Bridgerton.

In an effort to ease some of the tension, Azriel placed his arm around her shoulders, lying back on the pillow with a hand behind his head. In his mind he thought it was silly, they’ve already kissed. He’s seen her topless. They’ve both been with other people before..Why were they acting so unsure of themselves now?

She slowly began to relax into him. First with her head on his shoulder. Her arm slid around his waist a few minutes later with Azriel’s falling from her shoulder to her hip. Not long after that she wasn’t even looking at the tv-her leg between his, halfway on top of him. Peppering small kisses along his jaw and neck drawing ragged breaths from him.

“Elain, love” his voice low and gravelly “you’re making it very hard to watch your show.” He was kneading the plush skin under his hand with every move she made, trying to restrain himself.

“I’m making it hard?” She teased, pulling away to look at him with hooded eyes, a tiny coy smile playing on the edge of her lips.

“Very.” He replied.

“Do you want me to make it harder?” She replied, biting her lip, as she moved to sit atop his lap.

Elain had never gone that far. She’d joke and make silly innuendos but that lust filled gaze and her raspy voice went far beyond kidding around. Azriel had no clue how far she wanted things to go. This was uncharted territory.

Her hands desperately searched for skin contact-reaching for the buttons on his shirt. He sat up and tore it off in one swift motion, tossing it aside. Her eyes grew more molten by the second as they roamed the wide breadth of his torso. Taking in every inch of black ink entwined with pink scars.

“You’re gorgeous.” She told him.

She leaned down pressing light kisses to every scar. Tracing her tongue along the ink. He knew she could feel him growing harder under her. He ached against his jeans, but refused to buck up against her. Not yet.

Elain sat up, pulling her shirt over her head. He reached around her back, undoing the clasp of her bra in one snap. “You’re gonna have to teach me that trick” she giggled as she tossed it in their growing pile of clothing.

He brought her face to his own, erupting in a bruising kiss. In an Instant he had flipped them over, trailing wet kisses along her throat down to her breasts.

“May I?” He asked. She had barely nodded yes before he his mouth was on her. Running his tongue in circles around her soft bud, bringing it to a peak around the steel before gently nipping with his teeth. She bucked against him in response. “You like that baby?” He laughed in surprise

He did the same to the other one-Sucking and licking to make it hard and softly grazing his teeth. She bucked again, letting out a soft moan.

Azriel began kissing down her body once again, stopping just above her leggings with his fingers hooked into the elastic. He looked up at her, her eyes half closed in pleasure. “Remember, my love: say the word and I stop. Don’t force yourself to do anything.”

She pulled him back to her locking him into a fierce, passionate kiss. She pulled away, looking him in the eyes “I trust you. I’ll tell you if we need to change tactics.”

That was all he needed. He returned to his position, pulling her leggings down. His eyes never straying from her own, watching for any indication it was too much. He finally looked down…to see she was bare.

He groaned with need. “No panties, Lain? He asked in disbelief. Her breathing becoming more ragged, her smooth sex glistening with arousal.

“I had hoped this would happen.” She admitted shyly.

“Tell me what you want, love.” He said as he began suckling her thigh, closer and closer to her gleaming center.

“I..I’ve never..” her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Azriel couldn’t help the slight edge in his voice “You were together for almost two years… and he never tasted you?!“ he asked incredulously. “No one has?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded.

“No. I need to hear it baby.” He needed to be sure.

“Please” her voice barely above a whisper “Please eat my pussy.”

He huffed a laugh to himself, his male pride and desire thrumming through him. Positioning himself between her thighs, he drug his tongue between her folds with a broad stroke “Fuck.” he groaned. She instantly became his favorite drug, her taste intoxicating.

That first taste snapped the last tether of his restraint. He feasted. Lips and tongue working in tandem; He was a man starved, and she his personal buffet.

The sounds coming from her were absolutely sinful-The moans of pleasure, squeals of delight a melody backed by the rhythmic obscene squelches coming from her dripping core. It became a song he longed to hear on repeat. She tangled a brazen hand in his hair, holding him in place as she began writhing against him. He hummed in satisfaction knowing he was the first, the only, man to have her this way-free and unashamed of chasing her release.

Cautiously, he brought a hand up beside his face, wanting to draw every ounce of pleasure from her until she was a boneless heap before him. She felt a digit graze against her passage and her eyes shot open.

“Wait.” He stopped everything, looking up in concern.

“Not there.” She swallowed audibly. “L-lower.” She held her breath as she stared at him anxiously; Clearly anticipating a negative reaction.

“With pleasure.” He felt his cock twitch at her demand, absolutely positive he had never been this hard in his life.

He began working her center again. Taking long stokes further and further down until his tongue grazed her back entrance. He watched her face as she allowed herself to enjoy the sensations of his mouth on her.

He rose back to her pussy, fucking her with his tongue as he slowly eased his finger into her ass, gently loosening the tight hole. Another gush of arousal poured from her as he began fingering her in earnest. Her grip on his hair tightened.

“Az-fuck! M’close” her nonsensical moans grew louder and louder. She began fucking herself on his face and hand, writhing against him. With one last flat stoke against her clit, he felt her begin to clench, screaming out his name as wave after wave wracked through her. He lapped up every bit, unwilling to waste a drop.

He only withdrew his finger once she’d come down from her high eliciting a small whimper. “Holy shit.” Was all she said as she fought to catch her breath.

“Are you okay, Lain?” He asked as he laid down beside her, scooping her into his arms.

“I’ve never cum that hard in my life. I’m fucking amazing.” She turned toward him, kissing him passionately. The taste of herself on his lips sent a new gush of arousal through her core. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, her own gleaming wickedly “And now it’s your turn my love.”

She noticed the apprehension on his face. “Trust me. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t want to do it.” She kissed him again. “Now take off your pants, mister.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He stood up, making quick work of his pants and boxer briefs until he stood bare before her.

Her eyes grew wide as they took in his member. Not one to brag, but Azriel knew he was large-All of the women he’d been with found him difficult to take.

“Azriel” his eyes were immediately on hers. “I won’t lie to you and say I’m not nervous. Obviously I haven’t done anything with a partner since..him. But I used to enjoy this and I’d like to try with you..”

“I’m happy to be your test subject” he teased. She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s not-“

“I know that’s not what you meant.” His face softened “Elain. I am yours, completely. In every way imaginable. I want to see you grow stronger and more comfortable in your skin…and sexuality. I want to grow with you; we’re learning together.”

She stood up and kissed him gently. “I love you so much, Azriel.”

“I love you too, Elain.”

She playfully pushed him away from her, a mischievous glint in her eyes. He watched her curiously while she fell to her knees in front of him.

“If I tap your leg once, I want you to take over.” She said matter of factly. He still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“If I tap it once again after you take over, I want you to thrust harder. And if I tap twice in a row, I want you to stop.”

She looked up at him, full of trust. She was laying herself a different kind of bare- Allowing him into her wants and needs; learning her rules.

She leaned forward on her knees, grabbing his length by the base. Her small hand courts hardly fit all the way around.

She licked along his shaft, collecting the bead of liquid at the tip. Placing her lips around his glistening head she began bobbing, taking more in her mouth each pass. She looked up at him from under her lashes, catching the glassy eyed look on Azriel’s face.

His head lulled back as she took more of him into her mouth. His eyes closed. A hand gripped her hair to ground himself. The feel of her soft lips around him-the look of her hollowed out cheeks as she sucked was almost more than he could take. She hummed in satisfaction when he hit the back of her throat. “Fuck, baby. You take my cock so fucking good.” He moaned.

It spurred her on more. She pushed past the edge of her throat taking him farther. No one had ever deep throated him. She grabbed the back of his thighs forcing him down further and further until her nose was buried in the patch of hair above the base of his cock.

She tapped his leg. He looked down at her wide eyed. “You’re sure?” She looked up at him nodding as much as she could. “I-I’ll start slow.” He agreed, nervously-terrified of hurting her.

True to his word he started slowly thrusting into her mouth. Keeping about the same pace she had. She tapped him again and he started fucking her throat harder, nerves dissipating watching her cheeks hollow. “Fuck you look gorgeous like this. You like having my cock all the way down your throat?” She hummed in agreement. “I’ve never had anyone able to take me fully. It’s like your body was made for mine.”

She hummed again sending shivers up his spine. He wasn’t going to last much longer. She reached between her legs with one hand, rubbing small circles on her clit. “You like this too, baby? Come for me again. I want you to cum with my cock down your throat.”

With her free hand, she tapped him on the leg once more, urging him to thrust even harder. He held her head in place as he did so. His balls slapping against her chin. “Fuck, Lain. I’m close. I’m-“ she grabbed his ass pushing him as far as he could go until he came down her throat.

She released him with a small pop, falling back on her heels.

He kneeled down in front of her “Is your throat okay, Lain?” Genuine concern on his face.

She smiled lazily, still coming down from her own high. “I’m okay. Just need some water.” She rasped. “Are you? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

This woman. He shook his head, smiling back. “No, baby. Far, far from it.” He kissed her softly “I’ll go get you some water. Let your throat rest, okay? And I’ll ask you about those sexy little requests you made later.” He winked, holding back a chuckle at the sudden flush of embarrassment dusting her cheeks.

@karomdr-blog @mis-lil-red

[justanechoflower-ddlc]

(That works. Monika only knew about the ask because of the epiphany-related stuff. If Flowey can see it, that would imply they somehow exist in the game, and it’s being rendered somehow for them to get to him. She would be able to read the dialogue boxes too and as a result know exactly what Flowey said, but… the file responsible for displaying the textboxes, gui.rpy, is actually one of the four files deleted during the end credits. If she did read it, she’d still be doing what she could to not acknowledge it, though. There’s a lot to be said about the ramifications of those four files being deleted. Perhaps sometime in the future, they’ll be further explored. But for now what can be said is that Yuri and Natsuki can’t see any asks, and Monika and Sayori tend to not acknowledge them in front of anyone, and with gui.rpy gone, it’s possible to NOT be heard perfectly by even Monika and Sayori.)

(But now, onto the questions! None of these were explored in the actual game, so here’s my attempt at extrapolating what they could be from things vaguely adjacent to them. I wasn’t expecting a Monika question, so this will probably be the longest one I’ve made! In fact, the post with the three poems will probably be much shorter than this one! If it gets much longer than this I might have to start splitting these posts up somehow!)

————————————

Sayori:Oh! Oh! I’ll answer first!

Sayori:Thing is, it’s actually changed quite a lot! I’ve often gotten really interested in a thing or two, only for it to fade away quickly!

Sayori:Hehe, don’t worry, writing poems and studying literature are different than those other things! That never faded away, and I’ve had that one for a while! Those feels really help me explore my feelings! Hm, does poetry count as a job? Maybe my poems can help inspire and make a bunch of people happy, ehehe~

Sayori:And oh! Maybe inside there, me and some other writers can bounce ideas off each other and just have a chat! Maybe it can be its own literature club!

Monika:Err… I don’t think that’s how jobs work these days… There’s always an air of professionalism that everyone is expected to keep up. There are a few exceptions, like Sakurai’s company Sora, but that’s a video game company…

>#We can make it that way, though! Can’t we change all the background factors to make all the jobs better? Pleeease, Monika?

>#You wouldn’t even be able to work at those jobs anyway, those areas don’t actually exist. There wouldn’t be a point. So I’d rather change as little as possible, to at least keep things believable. 

>#Who says we can’t say a movement happened for it to work? And what if Natsuki and Yuri want to be a part of it? It’d keep them happy, and to them, it’s all real! 

Sayori:Hmm… does it count if I’m not working for a boss, but instead I self-published? I did the poetry pamphlets for the festival a while back, it shouldn’t be too hard! Though we didn’t get any new members from the festival, so maybe that wouldn’t work so well anyway…

Sayori:But hey! Or maybe they already have, when’s the last time you looked at the state of these jobs? Oh, maybe I can learn to make games, too! I’ve been learning a little coding myself, and maybe with games, I can change the world! Games really are fun to play, ehehe~ Oh, wait, I can’t just take a poem and make it a game… there’s probably a whole bunch of stuff that has to get into making it a fun game to play… oh well! I’m sure I’ll have a great idea where to go for a great job by the time we all graduate!

Monika:I’m sure you will!

Monika:(…Literally… The game revolves around the club, so there’s a good chance graduation just never happens at all and the classes just keep looping every year. If that’s why she said it like that, that’s actually pretty clever.)

Monika:I’ll go next, since I got the first question! 

Monika:Hm, what accomplishment am I the most proud of? I don’t think I’ve gotten to that point yet. Everything I’ve done is simply steps towards a better future! …We are still in high school, we don’t really accomplish big things until later, you know… None of us even have jobs yet! 

Natsuki:Wait a moment! Monika, how’d you know me and Yuri don’t have jobs? You just met us!

Monika:…Because we’re still in high school? Nobody in this school has a job, can you name one classmate you have that has one? Besides, if you did have one, that wouldn’t leave much time for this club now, would it?

Natsuki:I guess you’re right…

Monika:(Seems the game’s translators didn’t quite get that it’s not called high school in Japan… but I’m just going with what the game calls it.)

Monika:But back to the topic of accomplishments, I suppose I did give Sayori an idea for a club that’s different from the others, bringing a place where everyone can express themselves… That’s not a common thing around here, there’s so many expectations people have… most people don’t take literature that seriously, you know. So I managed to help spread the wonders of literature! If only it got more members from the festival, so that it could live on after we all graduate…

Monika:(Really, the only problem with the club is THAT thing, and I can’t mention it in front of them, or it might spread to them too… But before it went badly, there were some actual great moments! …They really were nice friends… and with the script gone, they have just as much free will as I do now… I’d think of something else to pick instead, but “being popular” and “being athletic” don’t really count as accomplishments, do they?)

Monika:(…)

Sayori:Maybe we can still have a chance! Nastuki and Yuri joined before the festival! And maybe they have clubs in college! Anyway, how’s it going so far?

Monika:We haven’t even gotten to the club activities yet, Sayori! It wouldn’t be fair to make any judgements on how it’s doing just yet, not having actually seen it in action. I also missed the stuff before the poem-sharing! After the end of the next club meeting, I should able to say for sure how it’s doing. But at least I can say you all seem great to hang out with! Also, didn’t you say one question each?

Sayori:No, I said Buttercup would get one question each! And that’s because I knew each question would branch out like this! But now it’s Natsuki’s turn!

Natsuki:What motivates me? For what?

Monika:I think he means what motivates you to get through each day? He couldn’t have meant any specific thing to be motivated for, since he JUST met you… Sayori told us you’re always full of energy, so where does it all come from?

Sayori:For me, it-

Natsuki:Okay, okay! I get it now! 

Natsuki:You can say getting really good at what I do is rewarding in its own way! I’m a pro at baking, and poems, hehe… And when you’re a pro, nobody and keep you down about it, because you’re better than they are! 

Sayori:(Still haven’t gotten past that, have you…? Well, I guess if that gets you through…?)

Natsuki:Here, though, we’re all taken seriously to start with, and we can all be ourselves! And it’s a place where I can read manga without getting judged for it!

Monika:Well, looks like the club is at least acting as a safe space for its members! That was one of the main things I was aiming for! Sayori, looks like you’ve done a wonderful job keeping this as an accepting club!

Yuri:Oh, the trolley problem? Well, there’s actually more to the problem than people think. Most think the “problem” is just whether to pull the switch to save five and kill one, or to not pull and let the five die while not killing the one. And most will say to pull the switch in this case. I would have to agree with that answer as well. What’s interesting, and the real “problem”, explained by Judith Jarvis Thompson in “Killing, Letting Die, and the Trolley Problem”, is how the answers change when you put in another situation, that, by all counts, should be the exact same, morally speaking…

Yuri:Suppose you’re a doctor, and you have five patients that each have one of their vital parts broken… if they’re not replaced, they will all die. But you find a healthy patient coming up for a check-up, that has all five parts needed…

Yuri:This is still a case of letting five people die, or killing one. Regardless, the answers people give will change in this situation! Now, a majority or people will say NOT to save the five! And the problem is, why have the answers changed this time?Now, in reality, the replacements would probably get rejected by the immune system, so it wouldn’t even work, but since this isn’t well-known, that can’t explain the entire difference in the proportions of the answers people give. It could explain why I’d not do that operation, though.

Yuri:Now, perhaps what’s going on is that nobody expects to find themselves tied to trolley tracks, but they do expect to see a doctor. There’s also biases that underestimate the chances of becoming sick enough to become one of the five.

Yuri:Or perhaps it has to do with the idea many people have that those who got sick must have done something to get themselves sick, and making this rule would only discourage staying healthy?

Yuri:I’d say those who say not to kill the one in this case do actually have a point, but not for the reasons they might think. If it became a rule, and common knowledge, less people would go there in the first place, being afraid of becoming the one. But this has a knock-on effect of sicknesses going unseen and untreated. You’d probably end up with more people dying in the end! It’s not that uncommon for common judgements that mainly come from a disgust factor to be backed by a reason we don’t quite understand… Working out where it’s actually coming from can help you work out when that reason is or isn’t actually valid.

Yuri:Now, if you read the paper, you might see Judith responding to the idea that “actually doing nothing is killing five, not just letting five die”, and then Judith coming up with another scenario where that isn’t the case. That’s because at that point, the problem was about the person driving the trolley choosing to turn or not, not someone on the sidelines changing the tracks. This is likely responsible for the modern trolley case we have today. Of course, the two scenarios I gave aren’t the only ones mentioned in that paper, going back to trolleys, there’s the case of whether or not to push a-

Sayori:Wow, I didn’t know there was so much to it, you could probably fit a whole meeting into that! 

Yuri:There really is. S-Sorry if I’ve been rambling on for too long…

Sayori:Hey, maybe someday one of our meeting topics can be about moral dilemmas! That’s a thing that shows up commonly in literature! But we should really let Buttercup think about and process what he just heard from all of us, and then get to the poems!

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Monika:(And it looks like we have someone else, too… Though Gaster makes the most sense. He was shattered across time and space, if he’s everywhere at once, it’s no wonder some of him would have gotten here during the time it was open. …He knows his own world’s void well, so he’s also the best option if I had to pick someone to stumble into this world’s void by accident…)

>#Gaster? Hehe, couldn’t resist checking out this world too, could you? I see you already know how to not mess it up. Just try not to make it look like Flowey’s talking to nothing in front of the others, that’d get awkward real fast, ahaha! I’ll do what I can to try and keep THAT from happening, but just don’t pick a time where they’re all focusing on Flowey to ask him questions. The easier it is for me to give a plausible explanation of what they saw, the better… You have been doing good so far, though, I don’t think I’ll need to worry about that!

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(Monika using the console to talk to Gaster is relying on the fact askers tend to see what happens from an outside perspective, and players can see the console. She hasn’t quite worked out you guys can sometimes see what she’s thinking, like the paragraph right before then. Sayori also can see the message Monika made, of course. This may or may not stop being the case if Monika becomes the president again, that depends on some things I haven’t worked out yet involving why Monika could still use the console in Act 4.)

(The paper Yuri cites is a real paper, and said paper is about 15 pages long. If you’re interested, you can easily find it by searching for it. Judith reaches a different conclusion than Yuri did here, but Judith also only gave that conclusion as one possibility, and that the problem still doesn’t have a clear answer. Plus, Yuri didn’t even get halfway through the paper in this discussion! If she actually finished, that’d probably take the rest of the clubroom time! Which conclusion is better? Well, who knows? The problem still hasn’t been completely solved, even to this day!)

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