#at the same time that he's 'not feeling well enough' to load a fucking dishwasher

[topazzey]

I have been feeling so much rage the last few days that I genuinely don't want to socialize because I'm afraid I'll punch someone's lights out.

We are now under the thumb of a despot who has, in his first week in office, rolled back civil rights to the 1960s, torn DEI out of all federal agencies, forced all federal employees to return to office, flown his fat ass to two different disaster zones to trash FEMA, and made our country the world's biggest pariah to our own allies, among many, many, MANY other things

My oldest uncle (I only have one other left at this point) is dying in the ICU one town over (terminal heart disease, failing kidneys) because he refused to take care of himself for decades and was in so much denial up until literally two days ago about his own physical frailty and the reality that he was not leaving the hospital with a pulse that he wanted any and all lifesaving measures to the point of going on life support and forcing my mom and aunt to make the decision to take him off of it just so he didn't have to make the decision and face his own mortality

AND

My dad and brother have been spectacularly useless in keeping the household from falling apart while mom is at the hospital every day visiting said uncle. Mom does about 60% of the household chores on a weekly basis. I do about 38%. The last 2% are split evenly between dad and brother, because apparently having a penis makes one incapable of cleaning up after themselves when there's women in the household. And even in a time of crisis neither one of those absolute FUCKS can be trusted to do something as simple as wash the motherfucking dishes or scoop the goddamn litterboxes, which now leaves the entire fucking yoke on MY SHOULDERS, because mom doesn't need to be worrying about this shit rn

I am caught in a rage cycle, and all it boils down to is men.

Men and their arrogance.

Men and their refusal to look after themselves.

Men and their weaponized incompetence and sexism.

As if I needed any more reason to go full 4B.

[usercelestial]

Forever Love

General Audiences | Words: 3,753 | TW: Sexual Harassment

-

Buck misses Tommy. He always misses Tommy. He misses him when he’s in the bathroom, when he’s at work, when he’s sat across the table and their feet aren’t touching. Buck is self-aware enough to know that he has a problem. But this time, it’s serious.

He’s drunk. And Tommy isn’t here.

And they’re fighting.

He’s just a little past tipsy in a gay bar where the music is too loud and the floor is too sticky but the rainbow flags in the window give him this fuzzy feeling in his chest. It’s nice, knowing he has a community, having a sense of belonging. Having something he didn’t know he was missing, being with people who are like him. It’s queerness and tacky rainbow tank tops and seeing color for the first time and breathing in and out without the weight of something missing sitting on his chest.

“Dude, this place is great!”

Oh, Eddie’s here too.

They started the night at Eddie’s house. Buck ran to Eddie the minute he slammed the front door of his and Tommy’s new house and jumped in his Jeep.

He doesn’t remember what the fight was about, not just because the alcohol was kind of making it hard to remember details, but because it was really about nothing in particular. Or maybe it was about everything. All the little things like Tommy leaving his shoes in the doorway and Buck forgetting to load the dishwasher. One bad shift, a few small jabs, and then suddenly they were screaming at each other. And then Buck ran.

They had moved in together three weeks ago. The first two weeks were bliss, but now a heavy storm cloud has settled over their home. Buck thinks about the honeymoon phase everyone was warning him about and he aches to go back to it. He remembers when he used to think Tommy had never done anything wrong and if he had, there were perfectly reasonable explanations for it. But now he’s seeing him in more varied colors than just rose-tinted ones. And he’s realizing Tommy is having the same revelation. They're more themselves, more adult, messier and complicated. And Buck’s terrified.

But he’s also pissed.

“Can you fucking believe he yelled at me for something so petty?” Buck had said, pacing around Eddie’s living room, “It’s like he wasn’t even listening to me.”

“Well, didn’t you also yell at him?”

“Who’s side are you on?”

A small, petty part of him was smug about getting to Eddie before Tommy did. The last few fights they had, Tommy had been the one to storm out and seek solace in the Diaz home. This time, Buck ran before Tommy had the chance. He had been happy to share his side of the story and Eddie was a kind enough friend to realize Buck needed to vent his very biased account of things, nodding along and giving support where it was needed.

Then came the beers. Then the bars. Then Buck spotted those rainbow flags in the window while stumbling along the sidewalk and told Eddie that if he was a good ally, he would follow him in and let him blow off some steam.

Except now, he’s kind of running out of steam. He misses his boyfriend and the guilt of raising his voice is starting to dampen his mood. He feels regret souring on his tongue and it’s diluting all the endorphins that were released from doing shots with Drag Queens earlier in the night.

Eddie’s still going strong though. His hair is kind of messy, glitter decorating his pink cheeks, a goofy smile plastered across his face. He lost the button up he started the night with so now he’s rocking a white tank top that shows off his arms nicely. Needless to say he’s getting a lot of attention- attention that he’s either ignoring or oblivious to.

“Dude, dude, why don’t we come here more often? Why do we go to the sad bar for straight people when we could come here instead? Everyone’s so nice!” Eddie is starting to shout in his ear a little bit.

“You can just come here on your own, you know,” Buck suggests.

Eddie shakes his head, “I don’t wanna… um-” he cuts off, snapping his fingers, “intrude! I don’t wanna intrude. Do you think if I ask Josh, he’d take me? He talks about feeling weird coming to bars alone all the time! OH!” Eddie gasps, like he’s had a great idea, “Should I text Josh? He could come down here, it’d be great!”

Eddie starts to take his phone out before Buck stops him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eds.”

Eddie waves him off before the song changes and suddenly he’s disappearing back into the crowd of swaying bodies. Buck should probably try to keep an eye on him but he’s busy silently mourning the quiet night in with his boyfriend he was going to have. Then he starts to mourn the night he wanted to spend distracting himself from his own grievances with said boyfriend, trying to drown out the voice telling him how badly he fucked things up. Now, he’s playing babysitter to giddy-drunk Eddie.

“Don’t you look lonely.” Suddenly there’s a body pushing against his side and alcohol-ridden breath wafting over his ear.

He reels back, cringing at the close proximity. He huffs and takes another sip of his beer.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna give me the cold shoulder?” The guy moves closer again. “Come on, what’s got you so down?”

He ignores him again, trying to turn his body away. The guy slides a hand against his side and fingers the hem of his shirt. Buck shoves him off.

“Fuck off,” Buck growls, and then for good measure, “I’ve got a boyfriend.” Who he misses. God, he wishes Tommy was here.

“Well, I don’t see him anywhere. Must not be a very good boyfriend, then.”

Buck starts to get defensive, opening his mouth to speak, before the words jumble in his throat. It’s a little hard to think coherently, but what comes to mind are images of Tommy making him dinner after a long shift, scrubbing his hands through his soapy hair in the shower, kissing his birthmark before bed every night. He’s not sure how to articulate it, all the feelings rising in his throat at the claim that Tommy isn’t a good boyfriend, a good partner, a good person.

“Buck! Buck, listen, man, you gotta try this drink- oh, who’s this?”

The guy scoffs as Eddie suddenly reappears from God knows where, “Really? This guy?” He points at Eddie.

Eddie looks behind him wildly, “Who?”

Buck thinks briefly about drowning himself in one of the bar toilets. Then decides he’d be getting out of this too easy, and this is probably karma for ruining the great thing he had going with Tommy.

“So you’re his boyfriend?” The guy is now directly talking to Eddie.

There are several looks that pass over Eddie’s face. He looks like he’s solving a puzzle for a second then there’s a little twinkle in his eye and then he straightens his back with determination and pride, “Yep!”

Buck chokes on his own spit, “What?”

“Hey, I’m Tommy, Buck- no, Evan’s boyfriend.” He looks immensely proud of himself, “So, bye. He’s taken. By me, Tommy, I’m a great pilot and subpar at Muay Thai. So leave us alone.”

The guy apparently has decided to double down on being an ass, though, “Really, you could do so much better.” He’s turned back to Buck now. “Why would you ever choose to be with a guy who can’t hold his beer and makes an idiot of himself in public?”

“He’s not an idiot!” Buck throws his hands in the air. He’s not sure if he’s defending Tommy or Eddie here, but they’re kind of blurring into one person right now.

“What do you have going for you anyways, bro? I’m a pilot!” Eddie decides to puff his chest out a little now, shoving his hands in his front pockets. Buck realizes he’s trying to mimic Tommy’s mannerisms, much to his own horror. Now is probably not a good time to mention that this guy doesn’t actually know what Tommy looks like, therefore he doesn’t actually need to pretend to be Tommy. But his heart clenches at how hard Eddie’s trying anyways. “A firefighter-pilot!” Eddie continues, “Those are like two of the hottest professions you can have. I also do Muay Thai, although not as good as my amazing friend, Eddie, but still very good.”

“Wow, self-obsessed much?” The guy tries to touch Buck’s arm, “Come on, don’t you wanna ditch him? Do you really think this guy is gonna give you what you need?”

“What do you know about what he needs? I’ll have you know that we live together, actually!” Eddie is starting to shout again, “It’s going great. Or well, it is, isn’t it?” He turns to Buck.

“What?”

“It is going great, right? Like we’re still happy, aren’t we?”

Buck thinks of Tommy at home right now, sitting on the sofa in his stupid, sexy reading glasses. He’s probably still fuming from the fight. Buck pictures him biting his nails, a habit he’s tried to kick. He whines a little in the back of his throat at the thought of being his point of stress. His bones ache to curl up in bed, head tucked into Tommy’s shoulder, feeling Tommy’s arm gently graze over his spine. He thinks about moving around the kitchen with him, seamlessly in tune with his every move. He thinks about coming up behind him and pulling Tommy back’s flush against his chest and kissing his hairline.

“Yeah, of course, we’re still happy.”

“Do you really have to ask?” The guy asks smugly, quirking an eyebrow.

Eddie’s still looking at him though, eyes searching, “I worry about that sometimes, you know? Like,” he breathes and makes a decision, “sometimes I’ll talk to our friend, Eddie. And I’ll tell him how much I love you, but how scared I am that I don’t make you happy enough. And it doesn’t matter how many times I-or Eddie tells me that you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, I’m scared you’re gonna wake up and realize there’s something else out there for you. At least, that’s what I tell Eddie. And I swore him to secrecy too, I made him promise not to mention that to you because I don't want you to think I’m a burden or anything. And because Eddie is such a good friend, he promised he wouldn’t say anything but I think now Eddie is getting tired of watching us both think the other one could do better. That’s how Eddie feels. Cause we’re both great, you know. Best friends he’s ever had.”

“Is that how uh- you really feel?” Buck asks, “You think I’m gonna find something better?”

Eddie nods, lips pursed, “Well, it's not like- I don't think you're gonna just walk out with some fuck-face you meet at a bar,” he gestures to the guy still standing there confused, “but I think I’m more worried you’re going to realize I’m not what you want. That it's too hard, I guess. And we've been fighting more and more recently and it's really getting to me, man.”

“I just feel like you keep shutting me out, though. It's not the little things that get to me, it's the fact that every time I try to talk to you about it, you just shut down.”

“Okay, I get that. But I think if I had to say why I do that, it's because I’m scared that if we really start to talk about it, you’ll come to the conclusion that you won't want to put up with me.”

“Tommy, I’m trying to build a life together, I’m in this, all the way. And don't you think I’m scared, too? It's like you’re not listening to what I’m telling you.”

“You talk about how you don't feel listened to, but it’s never really clear what you’re saying,” Eddie throws his hands up and clears his throat awkwardly, “I think.”

Buck stops to consider that. He’s tried to tell Tommy how he feels, how scared he is he’s gonna fuck it up. He still feels like he’s a guest in Tommy’s home, not because of anything Tommy’s done per say. He thinks maybe he’s still trying to walk on eggshells, not make too many waves. So he beats around the bush. He points out Tommy’s shoes in the doorway when he’s made a point to put his own in the closet, clearing his throat when he picks them up and puts them away. Tommy glances at him and hums, looking away.

It always made Buck feel like Tommy’s just tolerating him- putting up with his “clipboard” tendencies.

“Okay, I guess you have a point. I’m not actually that mad that you leave your shoes wherever you take them off, or how you leave dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, or that you always make the bed too tight. Like, I don't care about those things. I just- fuck, I don't know. It feels like it's still your house, and I’m still living out of a few drawers and an overnight bag.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “Do I make you feel that way?”

Buck sighs, “Not on purpose, I don't think. I think it's just a lot of other bad experiences with living with people I’ve dated and yeah, maybe, it feels like you keep erasing the mark I’m trying to leave. I keep trying to get you to put your shoes in the closet, and you just won't.”

“I thought you said you weren't really mad about that.” Eddie seems like he’s having a hard time following their relationship lore.

“It's not that. It's more that all of the little things I’m trying to do to make it feel like ours, you’re just not having.”

“Have you ever told me that? Like in those words? Cause from where I’m standing, I think I’m just trying to give you your space and stay close to mine.”

“I don't just want my space and then your space, I want our space. I want to have things we do together, systems we can agree on. Not just because it annoys me when you don't follow my rules, Tommy. I don't want you to feel trapped with me.”

“Well, I don't want you to feel suffocated. That's what I told Eddie.”

Buck breathes in a small sob. He’s always been an emotional drunk.

“I love you, all of you. Even your messiness. I just want to feel like you're in this too. I’ve had a lot of shitty relationships where I'm the only one putting anything into it. And you’ve always felt different. Like I could actually get attached to you. And it feels like you're pulling back.” Buck sinks in on himself, heart breaking at the idea that Tommy’s falling farther away.

Eddie looks pained, but enlightened, “I think I’m pulling back because I don't want to pressure you. I think I’m really, really into you, dude. And it's scary to put so much of yourself on the line. I think I’m afraid I was putting too much of myself into this, and you're gonna get exhausted.”

“Exhausted with what?”

“With how much I love you. With how amazing I think you are. With how I think I’ve decided I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” Eddie finishes.

“Okay, what the fuck does all that mean?” The guy is still just standing beside them.

“Bro, go away.”

“Like why are you even still here?”

The guy walks away, muttering something about them being exhausting and a waste of his time.

“He’s said all to you?” Buck ducks his head, not wanting to look Eddie in the eye.

“Some of it, yeah,” Eddie nods, wrinkling his forehead, “The feeling like you're too much of a good thing, wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, generally feeling like shit whenever you fight, yeah, we talked about all that.” He hiccups, “Some of it I improvised. I know both of you pretty well by now, and I’m tired of constantly going back and forth between you whenever you fight. Especially when you're saying the same thing. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

Buck waits for him to elaborate. Eddie rolls his eyes. “You guys are committed. It's just that you're both being really, really stupid about it. And living with another person is hard, especially when you’re trying so hard to keep so much of yourself in. You’ve got to open up a little, man. And so does he, but I think the first thing you gotta do is talk.”

“Hm. I should probably go home.” His head is starting to hurt and he feels like throwing up or passing out or crying, and he doesn't want to do any of those things outside of the comfort of his own home.

His and Tommy’s own home.

Eddie's eyes light up again and Buck had the exact same thought at the exact same time, “Uber!”

Eddie falls dead asleep on the ride to Buck and Tommy’s house. When they arrive, Buck profusely apologizes to the Uber driver for all the snoring and retching.

Eddie leans against his shoulder as they walk up to the door. Buck notices a wreath that wasn't there before and remembers talking about decorating the house for the holidays early. Tommy hadn't been completely sold on the idea at the time but there it was, displayed on their front door. It felt like a peace offering in of itself.

He fumbled with his key and accidently locked the already unlocked door, which Eddie laughed at for the full minute it took him to realize and then unlock the door again.

“Shhh. He’s probably asleep.”

“Evan?”

“Oh shit.” Then Eddie falls on the floor somehow. Buck isn’t really paying attention to whatever Eddie’s issues with gravity are. The moment he sees Tommy standing in the hallway in his sleeveless red top and sweats, he bolts and throws his arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Buck mumbles into his neck.

Tommy sighs and hugs back, “I know, baby. I’m sorry, too.”

Eddie stands back up, celebrates quietly to himself for a second, and then redirects his attention to Buck and Tommy, “Hey, Tommy.” He waves politely.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“I don’t wanna be Buck’s boyfriend anymore. You can have him back. You’re both so complicated. Josh wouldn’t be so complicated.” Eddie starts mumbling to himself, swaying back and forth on his feet while fiddling with the leaves on the plant they have in their entrance.

Tommy seems to take a second process of what he just said and is doing mental gymnastics to decipher it, “What?”

“There was this guy, right? And he was kind of an asshole about it. So I pretended to be you, so he would leave Buck alone.”

Buck feels Tommy’s chest rise with jealousy, “A guy was messing with you?” Buck is man enough to admit that the heat in his voice does something for him.

“Mostly just being annoying.” Buck shrugs, arms still tied around Tommy’s neck.

“Hey, don’t worry. I defended his honor.” Eddie pounds a fist to his chest and then stumbles over to the couch.

Tommy worms his way out of Buck’s grip so he can close and lock the door and then turns back, “So, we’re good, then?”

Buck smiles, shoulder’s rising to his ears, laughing a little. He’s back to feeling giddy, a rush of love flooding through his chest, “Yeah, we’re gonna be great, Tommy, I promise.”

Tommy smiles and gravitates back to him, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing his collar bone.

“No funny business while I’m still here.” Eddie turns over on his side, tugging the throw blanket off the back of the couch.

“We gotta talk, though.” Buck traces a finger down Tommy’s chin, parking it in the little divot that used to taunt him. He has a cleft, Buck giggles again.

“About what?” Tommy goes still. His arm freezes up and the soft, gooey feeling in Buck’s chest gets a little chillier.

“I know about your annoying habits and you know about mine. We need to talk about ‘em to move past ‘em”

“And what if when we talk about it, we can’t find a way to move past it.” Tommy says quietly. For a second, Buck feels like he’s looking at himself. The facade of confidence cracks and suddenly there’s a lonely boy in a cold, empty house that starts to leak through. Buck’s chest hurts thinking about little Tommy. He was lonely and afraid. Buck remembers that feeling like a ghost whispering up his spine and he hates it. He hates that he ever thought this wasn’t something he could have. He hates that Tommy thought he’d be lonely and afraid forever. He hates that they both did.

He hates that Tommy feels like that right, standing in their home, in each other’s arms, where it should be safe from old wounds and lingering ghosts.

“Hey,” Buck’s finger on Tommy’s chin tightens and he brings his thumb up to force eye contact, “Don’t do that, please.”

Tommy shudders.

“Tommy, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you and you,” Buck grabs Tommy’s face with both hands, “Tommy, you are my forever love, okay? Your bad habits are not going to get in the way of that. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

“Forever love, huh?” Tommy muses.

“If you let me, I wanna be your forever,” Buck places his index finger on Tommy’s lip, swiping. He wants to reach forward and never let go.

“Gladly,” Tommy leans over to bridge the gap, connecting their lips. They kiss for what feels like an eternity, with Eddie's snores as background music. Tommy slides an arm around Buck's waist and gently guides him to their bed.

Tommy kisses his birthmark and covers him with their warm cotton sheets they had picked out together. The bed is still too tight but he’ll tell him in the morning. They’ll talk, fight a little more, cry, and make up. They’ll fight for it, even when things get hard.

They fall asleep wrapped gently in love. Forever love.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

It's Really Rather Simple

I’ve only had your “It’s Complicated” fic for one (1) day but I’m already obsessed with it and if you would be down to write a “The Slow Path”-esque sequel I would read it so hard!! No pressure if you don’t want to do that though! I hope you’re having a good day! :D – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: logince

Word Count: 2720

Everything changes and nothing changes at all.

Logan is still his roommate. They still bicker over the best way to load the dishwasher, how to set up the movies on the big screen, which character is the best out of any number of franchises. He still fights Roman for the couch pull-out bed when Roman insists that he take the main one, only now that he has his fighting skills back he ends up pinning Roman to the bed which—ends up being a really effective way to shut Roman up, one that he takes advantage of with a terrifying familiarity and an even more terrifying fondness. He has no idea what the fuck he's going to do the next time someone asks him what's going on—he's never been the best at lying, after all, and now that Logan's actually back, he's got even less of a chance. But Logan's still the same, reading his books and doing the crossword at worrying speeds and badgering Roman into eating healthier foods.

Sometimes, though, he catches Logan watching him. Like, watching him. He doesn't know what to do about it, especially since Logan's never addressed it at all, but still, he'd be fooling both of them if he didn't know that the Mastermind was in his living room, eyeing him like he was more than just a thorn in his side or a particularly inviting distraction.

Which brings him to the other problem he's currently struggling with.

When it was The Mastermind, it was easy to push aside the fact that he's a damn attractive bastard. The whole trying-to-take-over-the-world, megalomaniac, complete-disregard-for-human-life thing really put a damper on however objectively handsome he might be. Sure, did Roman notice it? He wasn't blind, for crying out loud, but he had a job to do and that job involved punching said attractive bastard in the face and messing up his plans so the world could keep spinning the way it was going to spin until something else came to knock it off course.

And when it was Logan, with his memory gone, well, that wasn't right either. Logan wasn't in possession of all his faculties, he wasn't operating under the truth of who they actually were to each other, and Roman could shove whatever feelings he may or may not have had—or was currently having—into the box labeled 'Not While Extremely Traumatized and Vulnerable.' Truly, the cognitive disconnect between the cold, calculating villain and the sweet, slightly dorky man that had become his roommate was enough to keep the worst of it at bay. That and the fact that he'd been more than a little worried about what the consequences would be if Logan's memory did come back.

But his memories did come back, and…he'd still been the same sweet dork with the same penchant for devastating quips and cocky speeches as the biggest pain in Roman's ass. Logan wasn't going back to being a villain, hadn't stabbed Roman and left him to bleed out, and hadn't told him that everything was a lie. And now Roman had to deal with the feelings before Logan figured them out, which meant that his days were pretty much numbered from the start.

He could still turn Logan in. But he doesn't really want to do that. Not just because it would require admitting that he's not only known where Logan's been, but that he's waited to do it on the off chance his memory does come back, and he's only doing it now because his memory has come back. And he feels a bit bad about betraying Logan's trust like that—even though he scoffs at himself when it first crosses his mind.

And…maybe he doesn't want to let Logan go either.

Does that mean he's slipping down the 'I Can Fix Him Pipeline,' the way he always gets accused of when he suggests doing more than just trying to kill people? No. He's not trying to fix Logan. He was never trying to fix Logan. But he's a decent fucking person, at least he likes to think he is, and so he wasn't just going to leave someone with amnesia in a really dangerous situation. Even now, it's still fucking dangerous for Logan, no matter what his capabilities might be now—he's still not completely sure, and he doesn't think Logan is either—and he's not just going to abandon him now that things are getting more complicated. That's not who he is.

He just also happens to be the type of person who likes coming home to someone else there. He likes being able to make dinner for two people. He likes having someone else in the house when he's freaking out at stupid o'clock in the morning and he can listen to their breathing through the thin walls and remind himself that everything's alright, at least right now.

"You're thinking very loudly over there."

He startles, dropping his pencil—right, he'd been poking at the word search on the back on the magazine that keeps getting accidentally delivered to their address—and when did it become their address?—and bends to pick it up. "Sorry."

Logan just chuckles. "Having trouble?"

"Look, there's only so long I can stare at the same letters before they just start swimming in front of me."

"Mm." Logan leans over the back of the couch, his hand almost brushing Roman's shoulder. "There's one of them in the very top line."

"What? No, there isn't."

"Backwards, dear."

"…shut up," he mumbles, circling it and scribbling out the word from the list as Logan chuckles again. His ears start to burn from embarrassment and he quickly closes the page and shoves it in his pocket, stalking toward the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"Not particularly, but I have a feeling that'll change before too long. Did you have something in mind for dinner?"

"I was thinking pasta, maybe? We haven't done that in a while and I think the milk's gonna go bad before too long."

"Ah, yes, that sounds perfect. We have some vegetables I can roast that will work as well. Are you up for trying something with a little more spice, this time?"

"Depends, are you going to try and make my sinuses stop working again?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, dear."

"I was in the bathroom for two hours!"

"Yes, and that's the last time I believe you when you say you have a high spice tolerance."

See? This is normal. This is normal. They're just two people talking about what they're going to do for dinner and bickering about it because that's what they do. They're not a villain and a hero struggling to find common ground, they're not a person suffering from amnesia and their caretaker, they're—they're—they're them. And it's not getting any easier for Roman to figure out what the hell he's going to do about it.

"That's the second time you've wandered away from me in the last few minutes," comes Logan's voice, now soft with a worry that makes Roman's heart race, "is everything alright?"

"Sorry," he says automatically, taking the milk from the fridge, "just got a lot on my mind."

"I can see that." And he comes over, because of course he does, and sets his hand on Roman's to coax the milk from him. "Can I help?"

"Uh—"

"With both the pasta and whatever is plaguing you, yes."

Roman swallows. He glances at the stove, makes a mental note to clean it tomorrow, and tries for a laugh. "It's nothing, really, I'm just—y'know. Letting the old wheels spin."

Logan gives him the most unimpressed look he's seen in a while, which is saying something. "You can do better than that."

"It's really nothing for you to worry about—"

"I know, otherwise I'd have figured out what it is already." His hand comes up to brush some hair from Roman's forehead. "But I don't know what it is, and for the life of me, I can't figure it out. I've been trying to give you space to tell me or figure it out by yourself—"

"Wait, you've what?"

"Roman," he sighs, a fond smile curling up the corners of his mouth, "you've been off for days. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Well, he did, or at least he certainly hoped that Logan wouldn't notice. "I don't think I'm gonna answer that."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, I have noticed, and I've deemed it important enough to confront you about since you won't tell me what has you all worried like a fretful deer—"

"Like a what?"

"A fretful deer. The sort that won't go near a tree when the breeze is blowing too hard because it makes the leaves tremble and the noise is too frightening." The smile remains, softening the words to a gentle tease, but the genuine concern behind his eyes makes Roman's throat swell all the same. "So yes, Roman, there is something wrong, I've noticed it, and I'd like you to let me help figure it out."

See, this, this is a problem,. Because it's Logan applying the same flawless—well, sort of flawless—logic that he would when he was The Mastermind, except it's about Roman and his fucking feelings, and he doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to stand here and not break down into a blushing flustered mess. But Logan's staring at him, still staring at him with that face like he's expecting Roman to just spill his guts, and Roman might just have to spill his guts about it.

"I'm having feelings," he admits, voice mumbling and half buried in the buzzing of the fridge, "that's it."

"Mm." Logan lightly bumps the milk against his hand. "These sorts of feelings, or these sorts of feelings?"

Before Roman can ask what that second type of feelings is, there's a gentle hand under his chin and he's being turned to face Logan—oh.

Why the fuck is he so close?

Roman jerks back with a mortifying squeak and collides with the fridge, flailing in an attempt to keep himself upright. Logan just stares at him with the same wide-eyed wonder of watching a zoo animal do something oddly endearing and very strange. He feels his ears starting to burn again and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Does that answer your question?" he mumbles again, still staring at the floor.

Logan puts down the milk and comes closer. No, why is he doing that? He's gonna make Roman look at him again, isn't he? Sure enough, the hand cups his chin again and this time, doesn't let him pull away. Logan just watches him, the same amusement mingling with soft concern until Roman's head starts to spin and he's gonna freak the hell out if Logan doesn't start talking right now.

"Breathe."

"What?"

"Breathe, dear," Logan repeats, "you look like you're about to faint. It's alright, I'm not going anywhere, just breathe for a moment before you pass out on me."

Roman does as he's told, trying to steady himself, but that's really fucking hard when Logan's still looking at him like that and he knows that as soon as he's calmed down enough for Logan to be comfortable talking to him, they're going to talk about what he just confessed to and he doesn't really want to do that right now.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, you haven't done anything wrong." He glances at where they're standing. "Though this conversation might be better suited to the couch than up against the fridge."

He lets Logan walk him over to the couch, sitting down and shoving his hands between his knees. The other end of the couch dips with Logan's weight and he hunches his shoulders a little. After a moment, though, he feels a hand on his knee and looks over to see Logan watching him with way more obvious concern.

"You look—" he cuts himself off. Swallows heavily. Opens his mouth again. "This feels too familiar, Roman. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

Too familiar?

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"N-no, sorry, I didn't mean to—I'm not—" he buries his face in his hand— "fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was doing that, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Logan says, again, with far too much understanding, "I didn't…I suppose I haven't been allowing myself to give much thought to all of this either."

The fridge buzzes. The heater turns on. Someone upstairs puts something in the garbage chute.

"The last time we talked about anything like this," Logan says eventually, "it felt like you wanted to talk to me, but felt you couldn't. I had assumed it was because you didn't want to risk triggering my memories, but…that's not quite true, is it?"

Roman lets out a long breath of his own. "…not entirely."

"Would it assuage any of your worries to know that I have all of my memories back, so that wouldn't be a problem anymore?"

"Only partly."

"Can I help with the rest of it?"

He lets his head hang. "I don't know, Logan, I—I'm struggling."

"I can tell."

"I'm sorry."

"Not like that." The hand on his knee squeezes. "Can I help? At all? Even if it's just to take your mind off of it?"

He turns to look at him. Really, actually looks at him. Logan isn't—he isn't The Mastermind. Not anymore. Even the glimpses he gets are just that: glimpses. And as if he can tell what Roman's thinking, Logan's hand moves to his shoulder. "I'm not going back," he says in a near-whisper, "I'm not going to be that person again. I…I don't know what I'm going to do, I know I have so much to answer for, but I don't want to be him again. I like this life we have. I like—I like the version of me that can argue with you over little things like spice and sleeping arrangements. I like the version of this where I can tell you that I'm worried about you and you…"

He allows himself a small, self-deprecating laugh.

"…you might let me worry."

The lump in his throat returns with a vengeance. "I—fuck."

"I know I'm being a lot right now," Logan says, "but this has been—well, I daresay this has been brewing for as long as you've been worrying about whatever it is that's upsetting you. I fear if I don't get it out now, I might never have the courage to say it."

"Say what?"

He's given a withering look. "I don't recall you being this obtuse."

"What's—"

And then there's a face very close to his and he could laugh at the absurdity that they'd both been worrying about the same thing.

"Logan," he whispers, "if I'm—if I'm wrong, please don't hold it against me."

"If you're wrong about what, dear?"

Roman takes a deep breath, prays to every god he doesn't believe in, and presses his mouth to Logan's.

For long, glorious seconds, neither of them moves.

Then, just as an icy cold hand takes hold of Roman's chest, Logan sighs and melts against, him his hand coming up to cradle the back of Roman's head as he's kissed so softly, so sweetly, he feels tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes.

"No, my dear," Logan murmurs when they part, voice wonderfully hoarse, "you weren't wrong."

"Thank god, otherwise that would've been awfully embarrassing."

Logan chuckles, ruffling his hair. "I propose we finish dinner first, then talk about this, hm?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes, dear, we should talk about this."

"But I want to kiss you again."

"I didn't say you shouldn't kiss me again. I said we should have dinner first and ta—"

Roman shuts him up with another kiss. Logan chuckles into his mouth, so he figures he doesn't mind too much, and delights in learning that he's found just as effective a way to get Logan to shut up.

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[foodieforthoughts]

Hello love! I have this scenario stuck in my head:

Walter hurts his right shoulder quite badly when solving a case (or slipping on ice 🤔)which leaves him imobile to his dominant arm. Being the stubborn man he is, he releases himself from the hospital and back at home has to release that he alone struggles with the simplest tasks. Due to the time of night or a snowstorm outside the only one left to ask for help is that new annoying neighbour (there's the trope I guess)... might lead to a number of embaressing (and hot?) situations...

Wherever that came from... never mind my weird brain 🙈... does that maybe, possibly strike your muse?

Omg. 🤭 Thank you for the request @omgkatinka I tried to make it fluffy and funny, but I'm in a Walter mood lately and it did end up with a hint of smut, so here it goes.

Warnings: slight description of shoulder injury, a little bit of angst, fluff, description of male masturbation

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Title: Helping hand

Walter groaned when he turned on his side, half asleep and in a lot of pain. His shoulder throbbed like a thousand needles pricked him at the same time, shooting a blinding pain up to his fingers.

"Fuck!" He cursed at himself, rolling onto his back and trying to breathe through his agony. He clutched his sore shoulder with his hand, gently soothing the bandages and blinking through the tears that had sprung at the corners of his eyes.

Walter had hurt his shoulder while on a mission to catch hold of a guy involved in human trafficking. They had chased the culprit through the abandoned factory, barely losing him through the maze of metal staircases when Walter had lunged at the man, tackling him to the floor. But the rusty old work bridge had crumbled under the force, bringing both men crashing down to the ground with metal pieces and debris. Luckily for them they weren't harmed in a life threatening manner, but Walter's shoulder had dislocated, resulting in a torn labrum requiring surgery.

"Fuck this shit." Walter had told himself while lying in his hospital bed on the third day post surgery, pressing the call button for the nurse. He had gruffly told the pale, scared woman that he wanted to go home and he was feeling fine. After arguing with the doctor about his health, Walter had self discharged himself against medical advice.

He thought he had made a wise choice coming home, but he knew he was stupid to think he could make it on his own.

Sitting up on the bed and grabbing the strap of the arm sling, Walter groaned. With his dominant hand rendered useless for the time being, Walter had a lot of trouble with his daily activities. Faye and Angie were in California visiting her parents, leaving him no one to call for help for the past weeks.

He made his way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water when he saw the heavy blanket of snow outside. Checking his watch, he gathered it was only four pm and yet it was almost dark with snow still falling steadily. Walter had taken his pain meds and a sleeping pill when he had awoken in the middle of the night, and had effectively knocked himself out for a good twelve hour sleep. With that realization, his stomach growled indicating his missed meals for the day.

Looking around at the kitchen, Walter groaned when he saw the empty takeout boxes and the overflowing trash can. Injury had left him disorganised, making him live like a junkie. He couldn't even remember the last time he had taken a decent shower, sniffing the air as he could smell his own body odour. He was about to grab a trash bag from the counter and try to clean, when his doorbell rang.

Walter groaned, again. He had an inkling it was her. His chirpy neighbor who was the only one who showed up to help him every other day. She was annoying in the beginning, trying to start up conversations when all he wanted to do was sulk. But he had warmed up to her, still keeping her at an arm's length, but allowing her to assist him from time to time. When he opened the front door, there she was, looking adorable covered in cozy woollen attire from head to toe, a cute beanie over her hair, carrying a big lunch box in her gloved hands. She smiled at him, shivering with the cold winds until he moved to the side to let her in.

You could never believe how intimidating Walter had seemed to you only a couple of weeks ago. He would always throw a curt nod at you when you would greet him from your door if you ever happened to cross paths, never smiling or staying for a chat. You had gathered from the other neighbors that he was a cop, Detective Walter Marshall, kind of a loner and always grumpy. There was no denying your attraction to him, his scruffy beard and thick curls always left your fingers itching to touch them, with his accent being a major plus point. But he would never give you a chance to strike up a decent conversation.

It was all fun and games, you liked the chase, even if you were the one doing all the chasing. Seemed like a conquest for you but when his car was missing from his parking spot for days on end, you began worrying about him. Then one fine day, you spotted him out in the curb, trying to open the trash bin with one hand while the other was hanging in a sling. You had walked up to him, out of concern when Walter had turned around to go back inside slipping on the ice, only for you to grab a hold of him trying to break his fall but instead tumbling to the cold ground with him on top of you. He had apologized profusely, wincing in pain as he moved and letting you help him stand up.

From that day onwards, you always made it a point to stop by his house atleast once. It helped that Walter never complained.

"I had made lasagna. Did you have lunch?" You asked, taking off your beanie to hang on the hook and leaving your boots by the door. You felt Walter's looming figure follow you as you made your way to the kitchen. Taking in the surrounding, you nodded to yourself, your question answered without Walter having to utter a word. "Very well, why don't you sit at the table and I'll serve you the food?"

You tried to grab clean plates and spoons, frowning at the dirty dishes from last night, but you didn't blame him. It was only so much he could do with one hand.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" You asked, trying to strike up a conversation with the Detective.

"No. I took sleeping pills."

Placing the plate of food in front of him, you narrowed your eyes at him. "Don't get too attached to those meds though." You handed him the spoon and fork, before getting to clean his kitchen.

"You don't have to do that." Walter protested from his place at the table, almost about to stand up. "I was about to clean around the house."

"With one hand? Come on, Detective Walter, you know better than that. And I don't mind, I was holed up at my house since morning anyway, this atleast gives me a chance to do something." You winked at him, grabbing the empty bottles of water and shoving them in the trash bag. By the time Walter had finished his meal, you had cleaned the kitchen with only the dishes to spare.

"Let me get those." Walter tried to reach for the soap but you were fast enough to grab it first.

"Go rest, I can handle this." You nudged him playfully with your hip. You could not believe your eyes when you saw Walter smile. "Wow! Look at that! I am being graced with a smile."

Rolling his eyes at you, Walter stayed put at his place, handing you the plates one by one. You insisted for him to rest, but he denied each of your requests. You were just about done loading up the dishes in the dishwasher when your phone rang from it's place in the purse that was hanging on the hook.

"I'll put them in the rack, go." Walter assured you with another smile. You nodded at him, handing the gloves and walking out the kitchen. You were texting back your mom, when you heard the Detective cuss loudly, followed by falling and breaking of plates. You hurried inside to find Walter drenched with soapy water and the broken pieces of ceramic and glass on the floor.

"I'm done with this!" He shouted, trying to pry open the velcro of his sling in anger. The edge of his shirt dripped water on the floor with a stream travelling down from the front of his pants.

"Hey, hey." You rushed to him, carefully maneuvering away from the plates, and caught hold of his hands. "It's okay. It happens. Why don't you go change and I'll clean here." You didn't back down when he stared at you, not moving and not giving up. But a silent moment passed and he left for his bedroom without a word.

You walked towards Walter’s bedroom, the silence of the house only disturbed by the whistling winds of the oncoming storm outside. It was late in the night when you had gotten the chance to pay the ailing Detective a visit. With freshly baked cookies in a box, you had knocked at his door only to be left standing out in the cold. He had handed you a spare key for emergencies as the storm warning approached which you never used until today.

When you reached the door to his bedroom, you stopped in your tracks hearing muffled grunts from the other side. The door was slightly cracked open, faint light seeping out to the the hallway. You peered through the gap only to gape at the sight.

The other day when Walter had spilled water over his front and gone to change, you had followed him after hearing him cursing at himself. He had a hard time taking off the wet clothes, making him angrier by the minute. You had helped him then, only to be left mesmerized by his body as your nimble fingers had brushed over his skin.

Walter had his eyes closed, his arm in the sling and resting on his naked chest and pillows with a sheet covering his lower half. His other hand was under the cover, moving up and down as he pleasured himself. You felt your cheeks warm, spreading down to your chest and the tip of your ears as you watched him in his private moment, wanting to turn and run away but failing to do so.

You weren't going to ask him, but you could swear a long moment of sparks had passed between the two of you. Your dreams now featured vivid fantasies with Walter, leaving you in a daze for the rest of the day.

As much as you wanted to stare at his heaving chest, listen to his melodious moans and trace his sweat sheened face with your gaze; this felt like a rude invasion of privacy. You were about to turn on your heels when you heard the whisper of your name rolling out of his lips. Whipping your head to see if you had been caught red handed, you were left baffled to find Walter's eyes closed, unaware of your presence and repeating your name like a mantra while he pumped his length.

You had no idea what got into you, but the urge to be with the man you had been lusting over was so strong, you pushed the door open with heated cheeks and a trembling core. Walter's eyes shot open, widening as he took in your presence, scrambling to hide himself underneath the sheets.

"Wh-what are you-?" He stammered, a rosy pink tint appearing on his flushed skin.

You did not answer him, choosing to close the distance between the two of you instead. You crouched down next to his side of the bed, placing your hand on his scruffy cheek. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted as he struggled to regain his breath and rendered speechless at the debacle. You waited for him to object to your advances, watching as he wet his lips with his tongue before leaning to kiss him. Walter remained frozen for a long second, until he moved his lips along with yours.

Breaking away from the kiss, you smiled at him, a hand creeping to his member that twitched in response. "Do you need a hand?" You asked, smirking as Walter could only nod before you pulled the sheet away from his body.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. 

Day 1: The Case Of The Mysterious Shrinking Sweater.

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this all came about as myself, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @jennmurawski13​ saw a post about Ransom doing everyday things…and yeah, it kinda spiralled. The series will consists of one-shots and drabbles, all light hearted…and the occasional little bit of smut thrown in for your pleasure and we hope a nice countdown to Christmas after what has been an utter shit-show of a year.

We will be taking it in turns to alternate posting so keep your eyes peeled for the next instalments as they arrive. I’ll be re-blogging and tagging my list. 

Series Masterlist. 

 People say that being pregnant was an enjoyable experience, that you glowed and bloomed. But right now the only thing blooming was the feeling of nausea in the pit of your stomach. You lay still, hoping that it would go away, but as usual it didn’t. Swinging your legs off the side of your huge bed, you hurried barefoot over the plush carpet of the bedroom you shared with your husband before dropping with a thud to the floor of the en-suite, emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl of the toilet. You repeated the motion again and again until you were retching dry air, your eyes watering, throat stinging and you let out a little sob.

At almost 22 weeks pregnant, this was ridiculous. The whole morning sickness was supposed to have eased off by now, but not for you. Oh no. Mind you, what else were you to expect given that you were expecting his baby.

The spawn of Satan…

“Y/N?” your husband’s deep baritone hit your ears and you turned to look up at him as he stood in the doorway, clad only in his boxers. Strong thighs gave way to a tapered waist, a flat yet slightly soft stomach ran into the hard planes of chest muscle and sculpted arms from years of playing polo (God forbid the asshole do any other form of manual exercise, well apart from the obvious one that got you into this mess in the first place that is). Broad shoulders stretched either side of a strong neck which supported that damningly handsome face with the jawline that could cut glass and those deep blue eyes that had ruined your panties the first time you’d seen them.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale was a beautiful bastard. And he knew it.

“You ok?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes before a fresh wave of nausea hit you and you retched once more.

“Do I look ok?” you shot back, sinking back onto your heels, wiping at your face. You felt Ransom move from the doorway and then heard the tap running.

“Here.” One hand settled between your shoulder-blades, the other handed you a glass of water as Ransom knelt besides you, his blue eyes bearing the warmth that he reserved only for you. You took the drink without a thanks, the usual sarcasm he would display at such an action remained unsaid as you drained the glass and passed it back. “Can I do anything else?”

“Fast forward to January next year so the baby’s here?” you grumbled “I can’t take another damned 4 months or whatever of this, Ransom!”

“Sorry Princess.” He chuckled, “I can’t help you there.” “I hate you.”

“So you keep saying.” He shrugged “But the fact you’re pregnant with my son…kinda proves that you don’t.”

“We were drunk. Besides, hate fucking is a thing.”

“Is hate marrying?”

“Yup.” You nodded. “I only married you so I could divorce you for your money.”

“Well that was almost 2 years ago so why you still here?” he drawled back and you looked at him, snorting as a smirk spread across his face before he tossed his head slightly to throw back the strands of his hair that had fallen forward over his forehead “Thought so.”

“Asshole.”

With a roll of his eyes Ransom helped you to your feet, glancing down at your chest, your swollen breasts visible down the front of your camisole top. His eyebrow arched a little as he raised his head to meet your eyes and you snorted.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on baby!” he whined, his hands falling to your hips, pushing up the silk of the top you were wearing, his thumbs skating over the curve of your bump “You know what seeing you like this does to me.”

“Seeing me like what? Red faced with puke in my hair?”

“Yeah the puke not so much.” He wrinkled his face, “But I can think of an arrangement here that could potentially eliminate that particular issue.”

“You’re not fucking me in the shower.” You shook your head.

“But…”

“No buts Ransom.” You looked at him as he glared back, his face now wearing the usual petulant expression he bore when he didn’t get his own way “Stop being a brat. I’m up now and I got stuff to do.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he folded his arms. You gave a groan of exasperation.

“I have a conference call with my boss at midday…”

“It’s a Saturday.”

“I know that, but we have a big case…”

“You don’t need to work, tell him to fuck off.”

As usual you ignored Ransom’s dig about your job. He could never understand why you insisted on keeping your role as a Legal Secretary, but then again what was to be expected from the trust fund Man-Baby who had never worked a day in his life. “And there’s a pile of laundry to do.”

“I don’t know why you won’t let me hire a maid….”

“I don’t WANT A FUCKING MAID!” you exploded. Ransom’s eyebrows shooting upwards slightly was the only reaction to your shouting that he gave. “This is our home...”

“Well with the baby on the way, maybe you might want to reconsider that stance.”

“Or maybe you could start pulling your weight.” You jabbed him in his chest. He glanced down at your finger, his eyebrow arched as he looked back at you.

“Pulling my weight?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly how?”

“I dunno…how about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, loading the dishwasher, making the bed, cooking breakfast or dinner…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed and you groaned “You know I can’t cook.”

“How do you think I learned?” you shook your head, before rubbing at your temple. “I practiced.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen Princess.”

“What a surprise” you shrugged “God forbid Hugh Ransom Drysdale get his hands dirty.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He snapped and you snorted. Of all the names you called him, it was his actual name that riled him so much. It was ridiculous, but also too good an opportunity to pass up. He was an asshole at times, and you took none of his shit. You never had done, not since that fateful day you met in that lecture hall at Harvard some 10 years or so ago. Truth be told, he’d often admitted it was the fact you gave him nothing but shit, called him out and basically ignored him for 6 months, despite the fact that you desperately wanted him to do very rude things to you. Your ambivalence provided him with a challenge and he pursued you with a dogged determination which you eventually gave in to towards the end of your first year of Study.

“Why not?” you shrugged, deciding to poke the bear a little more because, well, you could…that and you kind of enjoyed watching that vein pop in his neck when he was pissed “Isn’t that what the help call you? I mean I might as well be your help all things considered.”

“You’re my fucking wife.” Ransom spoke through grit teeth, his jaw set, neck strained (ah, there was that vein!)

“Well here’s a novel idea.” You smiled up at him “Why don’t you start acting like I am instead of some glorified housekeeper that you fuck and keep in your bed.”

“Ok, I’m gonna let that slide due to hormones.” Ransom’s hands fell to his hips.

“You’re gonna let it slide?” you scoffed

“Yes.”

“Whatever.” You took a deep breath “Now get out I need a shower.”

“So….just so we’re on the same page, you don’t want me to-“

“NO RANSOM!” you growled, shoving his chest. He sniggered, stepped back with his hands up, palms open as he backed out of the door, closing it behind him.

*****

Ransom could hear Y/N’s voice as it drifted softly through the closed door of the study into the hallway and he rolled his eyes. Her boss was a jerk, making her call in at midday on a fucking weekend, all because he was too incompetent to cope himself. She should be curled up on the sofa, watching junk, eating crap, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. She’d been looking for her favourite one before, cursing when she’d realised it was in the laundry hamper and mumbling about how she’d pop it into the machine later.

“How about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, do the laundry…”

Ransom paused by the stairs, before he smirked a little. “Oh you’re gonna eat your words, Princess.” He mumbled, before he bolted upstairs and into their bedroom, through to the en-suite. Tipping the hamper up on its side he looked down at the pile of clothes and frowned. Y/N normally sorted them into separate piles, but he wasn’t sure how…or why now he thought about it.

Fuck it, there was nothing google couldn’t solve.

He soon found out, thank you Housewives Online, that they needed to be sorted according to colours. Whites, brights and darks. So, as his sweater was blue it could go in the colours pile. He nudged the other two piles to the side of the room with his foot before he gathered the one he wanted in his arms, wrinkling his nose at the fact he actually had dirty clothes in his hands and made his way downstairs. He wandered through the kitchen and into the utility room at the back, before he stuffed the items into the machine and then looked around for the detergent. He found it on a shelf over the back of the room along with the fabric softener. Grabbing them both he then paused as he realised he didn’t actually know where it went.

Okay, so this had to be a process of elimination. He pulled open the little drawer on the front and smirked as he noticed the sections were labelled.

“Piece of cake.” He poured in what he deemed enough of each and then shut it, before he looked at the digital dials on the front.

“For fucks sake…” he grumbled, punching a few buttons. Eventually the display kicked in, offering him a one hour-thirty hot wash.

“Well, who washes clothes in cold water?” he shrugged, pressing the green button. As he stood back the machine kicked into life and Ransom nodded, congratulating himself, before he decided he’d earned himself a beer.

****

“Son of a…” you heard the curse as you opened the door to the study and frowned. Whilst your call had lasted a little longer than it should have, surely Ransom couldn’t have gotten himself into that much trouble in the space of two hours. You followed his string of expletives down the hall, through the kitchen and into the laundry room to find Ransom holding what looked like a smaller version of his sweater in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Singing a duet with Beyonce, what does it look like I’m doing?” he snapped.

“It looks like you’re doing laundry.” You ignored his shitty comment and arched an eyebrow, one hand falling to your small bump.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Where did you get that little…” you trailed off as you realised that it wasn’t a smaller version of his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number in his hands, it WAS his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number “You shrunk your sweater?” He glared at you as you started to laugh “Oh my god, you dumbass!”

“It wasn’t me it was that fucking shitty machine.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the machine.”

“Well why did it shrink then?”

“What programme did you put it on?”

“Programme?” he frowned “I just turned it on.”

With a sigh you rubbed at your temple “There are different settings depending on what you’re washing.” You stated “That’s wool. It should have been on a cool cycle.”

Ransom looked at the item in his hand and you watched as his shoulders sagged a little. “I wanted it to be nice and clean for you to wear later.” He sighed as he peeked up at you, a strand of hair falling over to his brow. Your heart instantly melted, little gestures like this from him meant the world as it was his way of showing he cared. He could buy you all the expensive shit in the world but these were the little things you craved.

“Oh baby!” you chuckled as you stepped forward, leaning up to kiss his cheeks. “It was a nice thought…” you took the sweater off him and looked at it “But even I don’t think I’ll fit into that. It’s tiny.”

Ransom looked at it before his face suddenly curled into a smile “Baby boy tiny?”

You let out a laugh “Maybe not baby boy tiny, but little child boy tiny, sure.”

“We’ll save it for him then.” He said, tossing it down into the basket of wet items that needed to be dried. “His first hand-me-down.”

You smiled as his hands dropped to your hips and pulled you closer. “You’re a big softy really, aint you?” you reached up to brush that stubborn strand of hair back of his forehead and he shrugged before he grinned, rocking his pelvis forward.

“I won’t be soft for long.” His head dropped and he nipped at your ear “Let me show you what Husband chore  I’m actually good at.”

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Unlikely Lovers Chapter 7

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Although all the chapters are my favourite, this is my FAVOURITE one, and I really shows off mine and @beccabarba​ cheeky sides! Once again thank you all for your comments and support of this series.

Warnings: Brat reader, orgasm denial, light spanking, slight dirty talk and smut.

WC: 3017

Enjoy x

Nick drove you both to work the next morning. When you got out of the car, he walked around grabbing your hand in his and held it till you both walked out of the lift and rounded into the bull pen. Liv was leaning on Fin’s desk and she pulled off her glasses giving you both a smile and a nod,

“Guess we all need to have a chat,” Liv walked over, patting your shoulder.

You both signed the paperwork, Liv being over the moon for you both but also completely honest, saying that Ed Tucker may give you a hard time, since Nick was not well loved by 1PP. You assured her you were prepared for anything he was going to throw at you both and you walked out of her office to start organising with everyone to go out for drinks after work to celebrate.

The day had worn on and you were all surprised nothing big had come in. You had all just walked into a bar after work, finding a table when Liv’s phone started to ring and the rest of your phones alerts sounded off around the table.

“We’ll have to celebrate another time,” Liv sighed hanging up her phone. “Rollins, Y/L/N, you two head to Bellevue for the victim, Amaro, Carisi you head back for questioning, unis are bringing the perp in now. Fin, you and I will get Barba up to speed.”

From that night on, it had been case after case, and trial after trial. You and Nick were like two passing ships even though your desks were across from each other’s and most nights you were falling asleep in the same bed. If you were at your desk, he was at Rafael’s office or court and vice versa. When you both got back to either his place or your apartment, you were both asleep as soon as your heads hit the pillow. It had been nearly three and a half weeks since there was any alone time or being home at a reasonable hour.  

You both walked through your apartment door before 7pm with the healthiest take away food you could find, both your eyes red and blood shot. You both ate and Nick went to shower while you cleaned up and put a load of washing in the washing machine, thinking to yourself that since you were even doing laundry together, you might as well make the move to living together sooner rather than later, finding you actually liked the idea. Nick came out of the shower in just a pair of boxers, giving you a quick kiss and grabbing a glass of water.

“I’ll meet you in bed,” Nick squeezed your side before heading into the bedroom.

Your face heated up, thinking about Nick’s bodyweight on top of you, pushing you into the mattress, and your panties dampened just thinking about it. It had been the longest you guys had been without any intimacy since you had been together. You rushed into the bathroom turning on the shower, waiting for the water to get to the right temperature. You jumped in when it was just right, reaching for your vanilla and rose bodywash, lathering it up all over your skin and then grabbing a razor quickly shaving your legs, under your arms and running it quickly over your pubic hairs to tidy things up.

You jumped out in record time, drying and grabbing your oversized sleep t shirt off the back of the door, not worrying about underwear, hoping to get straight to the point once you got to bed. You walked out of the bathroom, quickly turning off all the lights, and headed into the bedroom.

Your core clenched around nothing as you closed the door, looking over to the bed seeing Nick laying on his side with just a sheet over him, resting on his middle. You climbed into bed under the sheet, moving to come up behind him. Your front pressed into his back. You wrapped your arm around him, your hand running over his chiselled abs, running down to cup him through his boxers as you kissed along his shoulder, up to his ear.

Nick’s hand came down to grab your wrist, stopping your hand, pulling it up to his lips kissing the back of it,

“Not now baby,” Nick mumbled, half asleep. “Too tired… I love you.”

You pulled your hand away from him, rolling over, facing the other way, sighing in frustration.

**

You stretched your back, your arm dropping down to Nick’s side of the bed, hoping to find him there and pick back up where you stopped last night, hoping he would be awake enough to fuck you into the mattress like you needed him to. Your eyes flung open when you hand landed on an empty side of the bed and you sat up, looking out the bedroom door to a half-dressed Nick walking towards you with a coffee cup in one hand and a plate of toast in the other, a big smile pulling to your face,

“Morning baby,” Nick put the plate and mug on the bedside table, leaning over you kissing you quick.

You ran your hand down his chest and just before it got to the waist of his pants, he grabbed your hand stopping you and you looked up at him frowning,

“We don’t have time for that now, mi amor,” Nick cupped your cheek with his other hand rubbing his thumb over it, “Liv needs us to go past the 12th and pick up a file on the way in, she is waiting for us.”

You pulled away from him, looking up at him narrowing your eyes at him before you jumped up walking into the bathroom and sliming the door shut behind you.

You hadn’t spoken to Nick from the moment you walked out of the bathroom dressed and you waited in the car while he ran into the 12th to get the file that Liv needed. Nick opened the car door climbing back in passing you the file. You didn’t look at him, sitting the file on your lap and crossing your arms in front of yourself, looking straight ahead.

“Come on Y/N. You know I didn’t stop you because I wanted to,” Nick put the car in reverse, backing out of the space, driving a few feet and stopping at a red light. “I want you so bad,” Nick rested his hand on your thigh, looking over at you with puppy dog eyes and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Unless that hand is going to come up higher and slide down where it needs to, don’t touch me,” you snarled at him narrowing your eyes.

Nick pulled his hand away from you, pouting his lips and nodding,

“Keep talking like that and I’ll never touch you where you need to be touched again,” Nick muttered

“Excuse me?” you snapped back.

“You’re acting like a brat,” Nick shot back, driving off at a green light.

“I didn’t shut you down, twice.”

“I told you I didn’t want to, Y/N; we have been busy,” he sighed.

“If you wanted to, Nick, you would make time.”

The rest of day Nick couldn’t approach you, if you weren’t snapping him, you were throwing comments about how he didn’t want you. Mid-afternoon, you had walked into the break room to get a snack from the machine and you felt a hand wrap around your arm. You looked up and Nick was looking down at you, his face like stone but his eyes were soft, and you saw the sparkle in them,

“You’re acting like a naughty girl, Y/N, keep going and I’ll teach you a lesson,” he said softly, a slight half smile on his lips. His grip on your arm tightened, but not enough to hurt you, pulling you closer to him and you caught your breath, arousal flooding your body as his lips came to your ear, his body pressed to yours. “You won’t get what you want for another week, and if I find out you fixed the problem yourself and it will be longer. We both know you prefer my cock to your fingers, so don’t act tough baby.”

Nick let go of your arm, his hand coming down to slap your ass slightly before turning around and walking out the door. The rest of the day you were on edge, your face burning every time you looked over at Nick and he would raise an eyebrow, wiggling his eyebrows or winking at you, and you would look away blushing.  

You were finally both back in your apartment, Nick was spread out on your couch, shoes gone, tie gone, top button undone, sleeves rolled up and legs spread wide sipping on a beer. You just in your button down and underwear packing the dishwasher, after Nick had cooked for you both.  The tenson in the air was thick and you were waiting for the right time to make a move. You started the dishes and then walked over to the back of the couch leaning over the edge of it wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips on his cheeks,

“Would you like another beer?” you muttered into his skin.

“Nah, I’m good,” Nick ran his hand over your arm, “Come around here.”

You pulled away from Nick, walking around the couch. Nick sat up, sitting his beer bottle on the coffee table and sitting back again, his legs spread wide. You walked to stand between his legs and looked down at him. Nick reached over pulling you to him and grabbing your leg, guiding you to straddle his left thigh.

“You’ve been naughty today, haven’t you?” His voice was deep and he tilted his head, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and started to pepper his face with kisses, “I am sorry, babe. Make me feel better?” you purred.

A wicked grin pulled to his face, “Oh no baby, that is not how this works…”

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He looked into your eyes. “Brats get punished, mi amor.” His words sent heat through you, as you looked back at him. This was new.

“How?” you said softly, eyes wide. You knew he could read you like an open book and he would see not only your consent, but your arousal.

“You’ll find out,” he said, darkly. His hands went to your hips, pulling you down on his leg harder. You moaned with the pressure against his taut thigh muscle against your core. “For now, why don’t you get some relief for that needy pussy… Show me what you need…” He moved his hands on your hips, urging you to rub yourself against him. It wasn’t the relief you wanted, but it was better than nothing.

As you rutted against his thigh, frustrated by the lack of anything more, and the layers of clothing between your body and his skin, but needing the pressure nevertheless, Nick was watching with a little smirk on his face. He casually reached up and started to unfasten the buttons of your shirt, exposing more and more of your skin to him, letting his eyes drop obviously to your chest as you continued to undulate your body, moving faster without the pressure of his hands on your hips. He pulled the shirt off your body, throwing it aside, and reached up to unfasten your bra. But when you thought his next move would be to put his hands on your tits, he just returned them to your hips.

You could feel the pressure building, your orgasm approaching. It had been so long that, whatever else the night held, you needed this. You pressed down against him harder, tilting your head back, closing your eyes and moaning. “Nick, I’m going to come…” you whined.

Suddenly his hands tightened on your hips, stilling your movements. You opened your eyes wide and looked at him, moaning with the restriction of your movements. “Wouldn’t be any kind of punishment if I let you come, would it?” he said simply, before unceremoniously pushing you off his leg. You found your feet and looked at him in surprise, even as arousal surged through you. Nick kept his eyes on yours, his face set stern, as he stood up. You tilted your head back to keep looking at him as he reached his full height, standing close to you. “Bedroom,” he said. You turned and felt his hand on the back of your neck, pushing him forwards.

“You know I want you to fuck me, don’t you, Nick? So it’s not exactly punishment, bringing me to bed with you?” You spoke as you walked, knowing you were goading him, but secure in your trust of him.

“Still with the attitude? Who says I’m gonna fuck you?” he demanded, as you reached the bedroom. He gave you a little shove onto the bed. You crawled onto it, on your hands and knees. He grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him, fingers sliding under the waist of your underwear, pulling it down. You helped him slide your panties off your legs, feeling the exposure of being completely naked while he was still fully dressed.

Nick put a strong hand on the back of your neck, pushing your head down, until your face was on the bed, but your ass still in the air. His other hand slid over the curves of your hips, down over your buttocks, and slid between them to find your folds, touching you gently, too gently. You squirmed and tried to push back against him. He pulled his hand away.

“Oh no you don’t, my naughty girl,” he said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice. “You’re so wet and needy.” You heard a wet sound. “And you taste so good. Want to tell me what it is you need?”

“You know what I want,” you replied, breathlessly.

“Do I? Hmm?” His fingers traced a soft pattern over your skin, but he didn’t touch you where you needed it.

“What, you want me to beg?”

“You can try. I don’t know if it’ll work or not.”

“I need you to fuck me, Nick, please…” you tried. He chuckled.

“That was easy.” His fingers teased through your folds again and you caught your breath and moaned when he circled your clit.

“Yes…yes…Nick…” you managed. He pulled his hand away again and you groaned loudly.

“Oh, please, I’ll be good,” you told him.

“Now you say that,” he said, sounding like he was enjoying himself. “But you need to learn how to be patient.” With that, he delivered a very light slap to your ass cheek. Pleasure swept through you and you moaned against the bed. He noticed the effect on you. “Mmm, like that do you, baby?”

“Yes, I do,” you admitted, weakly.

The hand on the back of your neck gripped just a little harder, as he brought his hand down again, just a little harder, tinged with the slightest edge of pain. “Is this what you deserve? Naughty girls get spanked?” He did it again. Hard enough that you caught your breath.

“Oh fuck yes,” was all you could manage. “Harder…” you added, in case he needed the reassurance.

“You asked for it, mi amor.” His hand fell again, as he spanked you several more times, with the confidence of knowing you liked it, each one stinging your skin into warmth. Then his hand slid between your thighs again, teasing your swollen clit. “Oh you’re so wet,” he groaned. You felt your orgasm starting to build again, his insistent fingers bringing you closer.

“All for you…” you told him.

“I know,” he replied. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, oh god yes please…” You begged. His hands left you, and you heard him removing his clothes, returning moments later. One hand slid up your back to curl around your throat, pulling up and back against him, as his other guided his cock to your wet entrance. His mouth was by your ear as the tip slid into you.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby,” he said, his voice gruff. He thrust up into you, filling you, then stopped, as your body stretched around him and you breathed hard with the feeling of finally having him where you needed him. “But you should know that you don’t have my permission to come.”

“Oh god, Nick,” you moaned. Despite yourself, you were even more turned on than if he’d just let your orgasm burst through you. “I want you to use me…”

“All for my pleasure, querida. I know, I got you,” he said. His fingers were still lightly gripping your throat as he started to thrust up into you, his other arm wrapping around you, holding you to him, his hand groping at your breasts. His thrusts came hard and fast, as he chased his own release rather than waiting for you. The sound of his skin meeting yours filled the room, his breathing loud close to your ear, his fingers tugging your nipples and sending waves of arousal through you. His cock was hitting the sweet spots inside you, but he kept your hands away from you clit, your orgasm just beyond your reach as his cock stretched you open over and over again.

You tilted your head back against him, moaning and breathing hard. “I’m going to come, my naughty little brat, I’m going to fill you up,” he whispered in your ear. And then he muttered filthier words, in Spanish you’d started to recognise, moaning your name as his cock twitched inside you and his hot seed spilled deep in your body.

He released you, panting hard, and you collapsed onto the bed, satisfied with the knowledge you’d pleased him, so aroused by the way he’d fucked you, but still needing more. You rolled over onto your back and slid your hand down between your thighs, finding your clit.

“Stop that,” Nick said, heading towards you. He put his hands on the insides of your thighs, pushing them apart, grabbing your wrist.

“No, please…I need it,” you panted.

“I know, baby.” He gave you a wicked smile. “But I’m going to do it with my mouth. And don’t think I’ll stop at one.” He dipped his head and you moaned as his tongue swept over your clit, knowing you would get more than the end of your frustration by the time he was done.

  Tags:  @wanniiieeee @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @randofando-spoonie  @alwaysachorusgirl  @amorestevens  @harryssxnflwr @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @skittle479 @bisexual-dreamer02 @glimmerglittergirl @witches-unruly-heart @berniesilvas @ben-c-group-therapy

[nomsugayoongi]

Off My Face. - Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook X Female OC (nameless)

Tags: FLOOOOOOOOFFFFF. Slight angst but mainly just sappy, ridiculous fluff. ("She" is SO into him) And smooching. Think of this as the warm up before the straight up filth starts. :p

She walked outside in silence with Namjoon close beside her. He'd realised quickly that this wasn't a light-hearted situation to poke fun at. She looked troubled and it worried him. He stayed quiet, following her to the very bottom of the garden. She wanted to get as far away from the house as possible due to her irrational but overwhelming fear of someone overhearing. She settled on a picnic bench among some trees at the very end of the garden. Namjoon sat on the table itself with his feet on the bench. "What's going on?" He questioned. She sighed with exasperation. "God, I don't even know. It's so stupid." She groaned. She felt like a complete tool. "Ok, I'm just going to ask you something. Did you sleep with Jungkook?" Namjoon asked.

She frowned, shaking her head emphatically even though the very suggestion made her stomach clench. "But something happened between you right? Last night maybe." He wasn't exactly sure what it was but he was definitely sensing a shift in their relationship. She continued to shake her head. "No, nothing happened. Literally nothing. But..." She broke off and shrugged. "But...you want it to. You like him." He finished. She nodded. "I don't get it Namjoon. He's Jungkook. I've known him ages. I've never even slightly looked at him like that but...last night. God, when he walked in it was like the light dimmed around everything else. He changed right? While I was gone. Something happened to him. Something must have. He's...so different." She muttered. Namjoon smiled slightly and shook his head. "Not really. He's made a couple of changes to his appearance I guess but...that's just Jungkook becoming more fully who he is." He mused. She glanced at him with a slight smile. Namjoon could always be counted upon to speak pure sense. "But then why the sudden attraction? If he is the same guy I left 3 months ago, how come I can't look at him now without my insides going nuts? They didn't before I left. My insides did nothing. Now it's like my heart is trying to physically beat itself out of me so it can get closer to him. It's dumb. I literally can't handle how...sexy he is. He's like this whole new person to me. He's the damn maknae. He's the baby. Unthreatening, sweet little Jungkook. Now he walks into a room and it's like a pheromone bomb explodes in my face and there is not a fucking thing i can do to keep my hormones in check. He walks in, I check out. Full mental shutdown for anything that isn't related to him. I'm like...possessed of something. Can't see, can't hear, can't think anything else. Just him. And my head is taking me on this fully realised, sense-surround journey of me and him. Thoughts of him...in ways I didn't even know I COULD think about him." She shook her head, the floodgates opening and everything she was thinking and feeling just spilling out. "This cant be happening Joon. It just can't. I can't feel this way about him." Namjoon smiled, "Why not? He's not seeing anyone. You know that. Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him what's going on" he suggested. She shook her head rapidly. "Ohhhh no. Nope. No way. Can't. What the hell would I say? Oh Jungkook, I Lost my damn mind in England and now you're crazy hot. Wanna make out?" Namjoon laughed heartily. "Maybe don't word it that way. But you know you can talk to him. He's Jungkook. He'd get it. And maybe it would help you to feel not so crazy. You can't keep this to yourself." He said. She shrugged. "Have to. I can't tell him Namjoon. I don't even understand it. And hey, it could be just like....a fleeting thing. Quick infatuation cause i've missed you guys." She mused, not actually believing it at all. And apparently Namjoon didn't either. "Well... Are you having these feelings about any of the rest of us?" He questioned. "No." She replied. "Exactly. I don't think it's just cause you've been away. I think you've realised that home wasn't what you thought it was. Going back to England showed you how much has changed and now you're back here where you belong, your eyes are opened to other things that might not be what you thought they were. Like Jungkook." He offered. She hummed thoughtfully. It did sound plausable. But the part of her that didn't want to engage in this messiness threw up defences. "But why him? He's Jungkook. I'd get it if it was Jin or you or..Shugs even. But he's the baby. He's the least threatening of all of you. Except maybe Jimin and that's only because he's actually made of rainbows." She joked. Namjoon smiled and shook his head. "But he isn't. I think this is why you feel like he's changed. Jungkook isn't a kid anymore. We've all joked about the Maknae. But he stopped being the baby years ago. He's grown. He's an adult. The changes... The tattoos and piercings and hair. He doesn't want people to see him as a kid anymore. You thought he

was safe because he fit into a nice little box of being the baby. Now he's challenging that. And it's not just how he looks. He's more...in control of himself. He's putting out hard that he's grown. You're just...picking it up!" Namjoon explained. She huffed, dropping her head between her hands. "Well he needs to quit it. Things were simpler when he wasn't threatening. His new sexiness is offensive to me. I feel attacked." Namjoon laughed and she raised her head, smiling slightly. She knew she sounded childish. "I really think you need to talk to him." Namjoon suggested. She sighed, shaking her head again. "I can't. It's too messy. And he'd feel weird about it and it'd make it awkward and I don't want that. It'll pass. This time next week we'll be laughing about this conversation." He could hear the hopeful tone in her voice but wasn't convinced. convinced In all honesty, Namjoon thought she'd be great for Jungkook. He needed someone to balance him out. He was too hard on himself. Overly critical about everything he did, from starving himself before video shoots to completely breaking down if he made the smallest mistake. He needed someone to bolster him. To show him how he actually was. Not what his critical mind told him he was. It was a running joke that Jungkook was good at everything but Namjoon didn't like where it seemed to be going. He worried for his youngest brother. He felt that her affections could be exactly the thing Jungkook needed to calm him down. To show him that he didn't need to try so hard. He was enough. He needed someone to adore him for exactly who he was. And she was perfect. And Jungkook was perfect for her too. He could ground her. Show her that even though this wasn't where she was born, it was where she belonged. Show her that she wasn't an outsider. He could anchor her. Give her the confidence she was so desperately lacking. They would be so perfect together. But he could tell by her expression that this wasn't a conversation that she was willing to hear right now so he kept it to himself. "So what now?" He questioned. She shrugged, looking defeated. "Dunno. Just wait for it to pass I guess. Namjoon, please don't say anything to the others." She asked, looking suddenly panicked. He smiled, jumping off the picnic table and pulling her into a hug. "Of course not. But if you need to talk about it..." She nodded against his shoulder, suddenly overwhelming thankful to have such amazing people in her life. "Thank you Namjoon. I don't know what I'd do without you." She whispered. He laughed, tightening his hold on her. "You never have to find out" he said comfortingly. ----------------------------------------------------------- Weeks passed. Her feelings didn't. If anything, they were getting stronger by the day. Being around him was painful. Being away from him was worse. She was convinced that she acted differently when he was around. She felt more distracted but Namjoon assured her it wasn't noticable to anyone else. Her cover was still in tact even though she was sure that every interaction with Jungkook turned her into a spazz. They'd planned a movie night. She was going to cook for the boys, something she loved to do then they were all going to crash out in the lounge and binge watch films. After a day of shopping for food and prepping, she was ready for a relaxing night. It was extraordinary how much food those 7 guys could put away. Even after overestimating and cooking what she thought was way too much, they still managed to finish everything. She picked at her food. Cooking always made her lose her appetite and honestly she was just tired. She wanted to collapse on the sofa and zone out for a while with the comforting noise of her favourite people around her. As the meal finished, she began to gather up the plates and clear away. It could have waited until the following day but she thought she might as well do it then while she still had a scrap of energy left. With a tower of plates and bowls balancing precariously on her arm, she teetered into the kitchen and started loading the

dishwasher. She'd have to go back out for glasses and serving dishes. She smiled to herself, listening to the rabble coming from the guys as they moved into the lounge and fought over who got what seat. She heard the kitchen door open behind her and figured it'd be Namjoon or Yoongi. Generally If she was doing something, they helped. She turned and saw Jungkook wandering into the kitchen with a stack of serving dishes. He was balancing them on one arm while eating the remains of the top dish. "How are you still eating?" She chuckled, shaking her head. He smiled sheepishly with a shrug. "I can't waste good food." He replied with his mouth still full. She rolled her eyes, having a moment to enjoy the warm feeling that filled her tummy when he looked happy. "You didn't eat much. Are you ok?" He asked, the concern he expressed marred slightly by the giant amount of noodles he was trying to stuff in his mouth. "Yeah I'm good. I'm just not hungry. I'm always starving when I start cooking and by the time I've made it, I don't want it." She explained with a smile. He dumped the dishes on the counter next to her pile and turned to her, leaning against the worktop. "Are you sure you're ok? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages" he said softly. Her heart fluttered as she turned to face him. There was a moment of silence where she contemplated her answer. A tiny part of her was telling her to tell him how she felt about him. The vast majority of her was screaming to keep quiet. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yeah...I'm ok. Tired I guess. And a little cold. Maybe I'm getting sick." She shrugged. He nodded slowly, the expression on his face was difficult to read but it made her stomach churn nervously. She turned to the dishwasher, distracting herself from his gaze by stacking the plates. "Leave that. We'll clean later." He said. She felt his hand on her back and almost jumped out of her skin. She straightened up and steadied herself. He'd taken off his white hoodie and was holding it out to her. "You said you're cold." He offered. A wave of affection surged through her as she looked at him. His soft brown eyes studying her carefully. She tilted her head to the side, taking in how beautiful he was. Not just in looks but In general. "Jagi" she whispered, barely audibly. The endearment left her lips without her even noticing. His eyes widened slightly for a second then a shy smile tugged at his lips. He pushed his hoodie into her hands. She took it, pulling it over her head, the smell of him enveloping her. As she straightened the hood and pulled out the yellow drawstrings, he stepped closer, untucking her hair from underneath the hoodie. He straightened her hair then paused, catching a loose strand from her forehead and pushing it away from her eyes, tucking it carefully behind her ear. "Sit with me?" He asked. She looked up at him, her heart hammering as she nodded. "Mmm hmm" She followed Jungkook into the lounge feeling slightly dazed. Maybe it was the lack of food. Maybe it was the brief interaction she'd just had with him. Maybe it was a combination of both but she felt...different. Her tummy was squirming but in a good way. She felt...warm. Her interactions with him were usually tinged with nervousness or fear. Would she slip up? Would she say or do something that gave her away? But at that moment she just felt peaceful. She just wanted to be with him. Wherever it was or whatever they were doing, it didn't matter. The guys were already sprawled over the sofas and Yoongi was arguing with Jin over what film to watch first. Jungkook picked the corner of the largest sofa, nudging Namjoon further over so there was space for her. She didn't miss the knowing smile Namjoon flashed her as he relented what was arguably the comfiest spot on the sofa. Jungkook sat, patting the space beside him which she took happily. He threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. The arguement about which film to watch ended, the lights were turned off and silence fell as the movie began to play. She wasn't paying any

attention to the film whatsoever even though she was technically looking at it. She was too lost in her thoughts to actually notice what was happening. She'd watched films and cuddled with the guys numerous times. Jungkook included. But she felt so different. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. His face illuminated by the screen. She could seem him gasp at a cool part or laugh at a funny part. She felt every movement when he stretched or wriggled. His arm moved from round her shoulders and rested between them as he slumped further down on the sofa. She watched his hand gradually move closer to her leg. She moved her hand closer to his, using her little finger to trace the letters tattooed on his knuckles. She saw his face break into a smile and he straightened out his fingers, making it easier. She traced each letter slowly, then the crosses between, then the BTS logo. He chuckled softly and she glanced at him. "Tickles" he mouthed. She grinned, stopping her tracing. "Sorry" she mouthed back. He shook his head. "Nice" he muttered. He turned his hand over so it was palm up and she smiled, turning her attention back to his hand to trace the lines across his palm. He sighed quietly, resting his head against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes. He liked the attention. He needed it. He'd been feeling pretty down on himself over the past couple of weeks. He'd noticed that she'd been avoiding him and it bothered him. He couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong and though he felt the constant need to apologise to her for it, he didn't know what he was apologising for so instead he just kept quiet. His hyungs did their best to boost his mood but their affection and attention didn't affect him the same way hers did. They were his family. They loved him so it made it easier to take their encouragements with a grain of salt. But she had no reason to pretend. If she was giving him her attention, it was because she wanted to. And he craved her attention more than he wanted to admit. He knew that to her he was just the maknae but sometimes it was nice to just feel like himself. He focused on the feeling of her fingers gliding softly along his hand, moving up his wrist. It tickled pleasantly. He wanted more. He wanted everyone to go away so that he could have her full attention for a while. The delicate stroking of his arm stopped and he felt movement beside him. He opened his eyes as she was getting up. "Leaving?" He asked, unable to hide his slight frown. She smiled and shook her head. "Bathroom" she whispered. " Back in a minute" She needed a breather. A second away to collect herself. She was falling into this a little too much. Being in such close proximity to Jungkook. Neither one of them actually paying attention to the movie. He looked so peaceful and content as she'd been playing with his hand. She noticed every time he'd smiled or sighed happily, every twitch of his fingers when she ran over an extra ticklish bit. She wondered if he'd noticed that she'd traced the heart on his hand more than any of his other tattoos. She studied herself in the bathroom mirror. His hoodie was too big on her and she grinned as she wrapped the yellow drawstrings around her fingers. She took a deep breath, tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach and headed back. The way she felt in that moment, 2 minutes was too long to be away from him. He greeted her with a smile as she crept back into the room and took her place beside him once again. "Okay? He whispered. She smiled and nodded. She snuggled back into the big cushions and turned her attention to the film. She wanted to keep touching him but didn't know if the moment was ruined. He closed his eyes again, also wondering if her attentions were finished. He felt her shuffle beside him but didn't open his eyes. He was kind of disappointed really. Or at least, he had been for the first few minutes. Then he felt her fingers in his hair, pushing through until she touched the skin on the back of his neck. The pleasent tickle returned with the smooth, feather like glide of her

fingers. He shivered slightly, leaning into her touch. His eyes fluttered and he let his head lol forward. She traced swirly patterns from the nape of his neck, down, pushing her fingers under the collar of his t shirt to stroke the top of his back. She'd tickle up and down his neck then under his collar and along to his shoulder then back. He was almost purring. Her light touch felt so good. He was angry that his hyungs were in the room. Had they been alone he would have just laid on his front, whipped off his shirt and left her have it it. He wanted more. He wanted to feel the soft glide of her fingers all over his skin. As she pushed her fingers up through his hair another blissful shiver traveled down his spine. All thought fell from his head as a he lost himself in her delicate stokes. Slightly more pressure against the back of his head then soft again as she wrapped his hair round her fingers. He wasn't sure how long it'd been going on for but it didn't feel like long enough when she stopped. His eyes felt heavy but he forced them open, looking at her quizzically. "What?" He asked, noticing the slight bashful expression on her face. "I need to stop" she whispered. He frowned, "Why?" She sighed, exasperated. "I need a drink" she mumbled, getting up and heading for the kitchen. He sat for a minute, puzzled, then headed after her. He found her in the kitchen leaning against the opened fridge door. "What's the matter?" He asked, closing the kitchen door behind him to drown out the movie sound blaring from the next room. She huffed and shrugged keep her back to him. "I just...need a drink. And to stop petting you like a dog" she muttered. He laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't mind" he replied. "Well I mind" she snapped back. He frowned, dropping his hand. "Oh....ok. Sorry." He mumbled. She turned to look at him, a bashful kind of hurt look on his face like she was angry at him. Her heart ached. "No...Jungkook, I mind because...." She took a deep breath, hating the look on his face, "...because I don't want to stop. I want to stoke you and pet you and make you feel good. But I can't because the more you enjoy it, the more I want to kiss you." She blurted. He looked at her wide eyed. Her face burned, her heart thudding wildly. Well damn. She'd said it now. "Jungkook...I'm sorry. I have been having such a shitty time being around you. Since I got back from England, you're all I can think about. I am so fucking into you it's not even funny. And I want to be close to you and do things that make you feel good cause there is NOTHING nicer than seeing you happy but it's just all tangled up in this shit i'm feeling and I don't know if I can keep them separate and I'm so scared of making you feel awkward or uncomfortable so....it's better if I just...go!" She sighed. Jungkook didn't seem phased. He nodded as though he understood then took a step towards her. "Kiss me?" he said softly. She nodded, rubbing her face. "Yes, I wanna kiss you" she replied. He took another step, a smile tugging at his lips. "No I'm not asking if you want to. I'm..." He sighed, "...I'm telling you to do it." Now it was her turn to look surprised. She frowned, looking at the smirk playing round his mouth. "Huh?" She barked. He took another step, closing the gap between them, he reached for her hands, pulling her to him. "Come here....and kiss me." His voice was lower and breathy. His brown eyes flashed as he leaned in, shaking his hair off his face. "Show me what you're feeling" he whispered. She almost wilted. His eyes closed heavily, his nose touched hers, their was a sharp inhale of breath from her, her grip on his hands tightening then her lips brushed his so lightly. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Her legs didn't feel like they could take her weight. His mouth opened, she could taste his breath. She wasn't sure if he was teasing her or they were teasing each other, either way, there was a delicious moment where the promise of the kiss hung in the air between them, then it ended, her lips

caught his, her hands sliding up his arms and winding round his shoulders. It didn't feel like a tentative first kiss. It was supercharged. All force and heavy breathing. It was like he could feel how much she wanted him and he fed off it. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her head steady as he took possession of her mouth, his tongue explored, he nibbled her bottom lip, she moaned against his lips, fingers curling against his shoulders. He could feel the slight nip of her nails through his shirt and it only served to make him kiss harder. He was rapidly losing control of himself. He felt greedy. He could feel the waves of desire radiating off her. The air was thick with lust. She wanted him. And he wanted her to want him. But not here. Not like this. He hated it but he eased up, letting go of the handfuls of her hair, trying to steer this back to somewhere manageable. He kissed her softer, running his fingers down her cheek, feeling her grip on his shoulders relax. He diverted the attention from her mouth, kissing sweetly along her collarbone then up her neck. A slight, mischevious nibble of her earlobe made her breath catch but he grinned, running his fingers through her hair. "Naekkeo!" he whispered.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar Of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby

Day 14: There Is Only One Way To Load A Dishwasher

Warnings: Bad Language Words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N- Oh we are getting closer. And this particular scenario happened between my father and me one night. Luckily no one cut themselves, but we were in a severe disagreement as to how sharp knives were to go into the dishwasher. Turns out I was the logical one. Don’t forget to keep an eye out for @what-is-your-plan-today​ and @ohthankevans13​ for there updates. 

Series Masterlist

There was the loud sharp sound of laughter from the outdoor patio, which Ransom joined in as well with his own genuine laugh while having a firm hold of your thigh under the table, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the soft material of your leggings while your hand was clasped over his in reassurance, easing his hand loose to weave your fingers through his. 

This evening a couple friends of yours came over to the house to visit and have dinner, which you knew Ransom had been a bit apprehensive with. Not that he didn’t like your friends, sure he did, they were perfectly nice people you had grown up with, Rick and Sandy. But they weren’t like Ransom’s usual friends, other people in the same arrangement he had been, trust fund kids who didn’t give two shits about anyone but themselves. Perhaps that was a good thing. He was still learning how this whole being married thing worked. 

So Ransom was a bit nervous all damn day, brushing it off though as in ‘He was Ransom Drysdale and did not give a shit what anyone thought about him.’ You knew this to be a lie, that he actually wanted to make a good impression on them. Just from the way he was acting all day, double checking there was enough wine and beer for your guests. That the house was generally picked up looking. He even offered to go pick up dinner, which you were not going to say no to. Writing out a list with a firm “Just pick up this list, NOTHING ELSE.” 

And it just raised your suspicions when he came home with steaks. High end expensive steaks that had been hand cut by the butcher at their local shop. You gawked at them as you had actually put burgers on your list. You peeked in the rest of the bags. There wasn't the buns, chips or anything else you had written. But the ingredients for grilled veggies, potato and garlic bread. 

“You didn't have to do this Ransom. I thought you were going to stick to the list?” You remarked as you looked at the steaks he so carefully let laid to rest on the kitchen counter before taking them to be grilled. 

“Well if we're going to entertain, we’re doing it right.” He responded and that's when it clicked, this was his way of showing he could take care of his family, be something more than what everyone thought him to be, so you dropped it. Going to your tiptoes, you pecked his cheek with a thank you, and went from there. 

Now it was the end of dinner, you felt Ransom relax more and all four of you enjoyed a fun conversation, some of which was Rick and Sandy filling Ransom in on some of your younger years, a devilish grin would spread across his face. “Oh trust me, she's still just as bad, just better at hiding it.” 

“Hush I'm an angel.” You made a move to gather some dishes when Ransom sprang up to take them from you. “You are the one who fully corrupted me Ransom.” you smirked at him, which you could see a bit of color rise in his cheeks and his eyes crinkling in the corners with a grin. 

“Something I take great pride in Princess. I got the clean up, you continue visiting.” He offered and you smiled a thank you while settling back down. Rick and Sandy gathered their plates, with nothing but praises for the whole meal, especially those perfectly grilled steaks, which you glanced at Ransom to see a slight satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips before you turned back to your friends. 

Ransom headed back into the house from the patio with the plates and utensils, listening while you restarted the conversation. He didn't bother shutting the door, leaving it open to let the conversation flow into the house as well as the breeze of the evening. Flicking on the overhead light, he popped open the dishwasher and started to randomly put plates in wherever they fit as the dishwasher was already half full from the night before’s dishes as well as their breakfast ones. Then he started dumping the utensils into the tray lining the side made specifically for them. He wasn't paying attention though, forks were going in tines down or up, spoons shoved in any spot they would fit and the wickedly sharp steak knives went in handle down, their points glinting maliciously face up, ready to strike any unsuspecting hand. 

Which Ransom did, when he grasped another bundle to shove in, and his palm, slid along the tip of the knife along the meatiest part, near his thumb. 

A blossom of red spread on his hand, as well as a sharp surprising pain, making him jerk back and clatter the handful of forks across the dishwasher and floor. “Son of a Bitch!” He yelled rather loudly in shock as red droplets dripped over the dirty dishes and across the tile floor till he got to the sink and turned on the tap. He could feel a wave of naseau wash over him as his vision blurred a moment and sharpened seeing the red swirl down the sink. 

You happened to hear Ransom yelp and curse as the door was open, as well as Rick and Sandy who looked with concern towards the house. A glance over your shoulder showed Ransom standing at the kitchen sink, and you could see from there that his face was tensed and almost in pain looking. “Excuse me.” You said hurriedly and pushed from the patio table to rush inside. “Ransom? Oh god what happened?” You grabbed a hand towel to press against the gash on his hand to get the bleeding to stop, his face whiter then usual. “Breath Ransom, don’t pass out.” You tried to draw his attention to you instead of at the red welling up again before you pressed the towel against it. 

He hissed when you pressed down from between clenched teeth. “Fucking knife got me while I was loading the dishwasher.” 

You glanced at the dishwasher and could see the mess that it was left in. Knowing you would have to set it straight, especially the knives, as half of them appeared to have been tossed in point up. 

“Christ Ransom, you gotta put the knives point down for this reason.” You said hurriedly as you pried the towel up to take a peek at his hand. “We have to take you to the emergency room, this is pretty deep. You are going to need stitches.” 

“Nah- I should be alright.” He started when he wobbled a bit, his other hand grasping the edge of the counter. Its that moment Sandy poked her head in. 

“Do you guys need any help?” 

You were immediate before Ransom could protest. “How about a rain check on Cards Against Humanity? I think we need to get some stitches for Ransom.” 

Sandy then came in fully to take a look at Ransom's hand. “Let me take a look? I’m a nurse, and can tell you if they will give you any stitches.” 

Ransom lifted the hand towel once more and she hummed while looking at it. “Yup, looks just like the cut Rick had a couple years ago. Steak knife get you?” 

“Not fucking intentionally.” Ransom growled a bit, getting agitated now feeling he was under scrutiny. 

“Ha, Rick said the same thing.” Sandy chuckled and her husband came in, happening to hear her.

“Well I forgot I put the knife in the water when I was washing the dishes.” He came to Ransom’s defense with a dumbass excuse and at this point Ransom was ready to go to the emergency room, just to get out of this curve of a disaster the evening took.

Sandy dabbled at the wound with the cloth when the blood welled up again and Ransom this time felt his head swarm. “Im going to...” and thats when he slumped, you and Sandy trying to catch him and Rick managing to get his arms under Ransoms armpits and ease him down to the floor. You straightened up with a hand against your lower back and one pressed to your baby bump, sighing. 

“Ransom can’t handle blood... I’m hoping this isn’t whats going to happen with shitty diapers to.” 

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

After You managed to get Ransom to the emergency room, and he was once again patched up and left alone, you were sitting nearby, counting your fingers and muttering to yourself. 

“What are you doing Y/N?” Ransom winced as he flexed his hand a bit, and you smirk at him. 

“Counting how many times we have been to the emergency room in the past 6 months. This makes three times. You are like a walking talking disaster Ransom, I’m a bit surprised it has been this long since we’ve last visitied.” 

He glared at you while he stood and took his coat from you to shrug it on. “Eat Shit Y/N, I never visited the emergency room till I hooked up with you. What does that say?” 

You shrugged. “That I’m not as much as a dumbass as you Ransom, but that’s okay. I love you anyways.” You tuck into his side as you two leave the room. 

“Yea yea, Love you to Y/N.” He rolled his eyes, wincing as he dug his injured hand into his coat pocket, looking for the Beamers keys.

[insomniamamma]

“Surf City Goodness”: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/n: This is the same AU as “Ferris Wheels Are for Old People” and “Liminal” but you don’t have to read those to read this one. Ezra loses his arm in an automobile accident which kills his brother, Damon and orphans his niece, Cee. Reader lives across the street from Ezra and they’ve been friendly for sometime but now it’s something more. Set after  “Ferris Wheels Are For Old People” This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ ‘s Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of sex. Mentions of drug abuse.  Mentions of traumatic injury/surgical scars. Mentions of Reader’s ex.  Cee needs her own warning, but mostly this is just fluff. Ez and Cee and Reader enjoy a trip to the beach. I will include some songs from Cee’s playlist at the end.

          Iggy Pop's voice warbles out of the speakers. "I wanna go to the beach, I don't care if it's decadent, I don't know where my spirit went, but that's alright..."          "This seems a bit bleak, Birdie," says Ezra.          "Quit your griping, you'll get your surf city goodness soon enough," says Cee and grins. Part of the deal they've worked out is that Cee gets to pick the music for any road trip longer than two hours, otherwise it's NPR until the signal fades and then whatever classic rock they can pick up. The three of you are crammed in the cab of Ezra's battered Ford Ranger. Cee is the smallest so she sits in the middle. The truck's bed is full of gear, air mattresses and sleeping bags and towels, a cooler filled with food and another filled with beer. I don't know what conditions we'll find exactly, Ez told you, We haven't been back here in some time.          "If there's spiders I'm sleeping in the truck," you said and Ezra smiled, and pressed his remaining hand over his heart.          "Never fear, Sunshine, I will protect your from our arachnid friends."

         "Hey Sunshine!" Ezra calls from his front porch. You look up from your laptop to see Ezra and Cee laden with grocery bags.          "Hey, Ez, you need a hand?" He smirks. This is an old joke between the two of you. When Ezra first came home, with Cee and without his arm, they were unloading Cee and Damon's things, bags and boxes and you, without thought had asked if he needed a hand, it just came out and you'd clapped your hands to your mouth, and then spluttered, I'm so sorry I didn't mean--and Ezra laughed, of course I need a hand. I'm down to just the one.          "Always," he says. You loop the plastic bags over your arms, sweating packages laden with ground beef and bratwursts and chicken thighs.          "You all having a party?"          "We're going to the beach," says Cee. "You should come with us. It'll be fun."            "Jesus, Cee," he mutters and then collects himself and smiles, "I had meant to ask you before this one jumped the gun-"          "It's fine. Really."          "You still working remotely?" asks Ezra.          "For now. There's some talk about keeping my department remote."          "Good thing or bad thing?"          "Good thing," you say, "I like working in my pajamas."          "Good thing because you could come with us," says Ezra.          "Ez--"          "I'm dead serious," he says, "Cee's got a four day weekend. We've got decent internet. Damon saw to that before...well, before. Mind you, this will probably be something of a working vacation. Ma's house has stood empty sometime. Damon used to keep it up but..." Ezra trails off. It's a small town. Damon's drug problems were more or less public knowledge. You think of the files you still need to edit, but for once you're ahead of the game. None of that is due until midway through next week. You've got some wiggle room if things go south.          "Yeah? Yeah, fuck it. I'm coming with." Ezra smiles wide, revealing his dimples. And that's how you end up in the cab of Ezra's beat-to-shit truck listening to Cee's fun and somewhat baffling playlist.

         "Talk to me, baby,I'm goin' blind from this sweet, sweet craving, whoa-oh, Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy, I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean..."          "Is this a parody?" Asks Ezra, "Like a Weird Al Yankovic thing?"          "No," says Cee, "It's an actual song. One of the Jonas brothers did it."          "Someone greenlit and recorded this on purpose."          "Yep."          "A song. About eating cake on a beach." Cee gives you a sly look.          "It's a metaphor, Ez," she says, "They're eating something but it's not cake." You have to hold in a laugh, watching the gears in Ezra's brain grind, watching his eyes go big.          "Ohmygod! Cee!" Cee cackles and you snort laughter. "You are fifteen years old! You are a minor child! You should not be going there! You should not even know that there exists!" Ezra's cheeks go red. Cee is wheezing, eyes screwed shut with laughter, her own cheeks flaming, "You. Should see. Your face," she says.          "It's not funny!"          "Oh, it's funny," you say, "She got you good."          "Come on, Ez," says Cee, "You think I can't recognize a poorly veiled sexual reference when I hear one? It doesn't take a genius--"          "You are a terror," says Ezra, and Cee grins, proud of the title, "And you--" he arcs and eyebrow in your direction--"Are not helping matters." You give him your brightest smile.          "What can I say? I thought it was just a song about some goofballs eating cake by the ocean." He huffs, but you can see the smirk creeping up his cheek as he drives.

         The house at the end of the driveway is small, a cottage really, single storied and built up on stilts like the others around it, painted a faded robin's egg blue with white trim. The garage is underneath the house, room enough for one car and next to it is a room built to shelter the water heater and plumbing. A wooden staircase snakes up to a deck that wraps the entire structure. Sea grass sprouts in clumps from the sand. It's hot inside, a stale heat, and the first thing you do is open all the windows.          "I think there's a couple box fans in the storage space," says Ezra, "I'll go fetch them."          The back deck overlooks the ocean, pale expanse of sand and the gentle lap of blue-green sea, a wooden staircase reaches down to the sand below. The day is bright and hot and shot through with high cirrus clouds. You and Ezra have stripped the sheets from the beds and popped them in the washer, loaded the dishwasher, put fans in the windows.          "This is cleaner than I expected," says Ezra, "Maybe Damon cared more than I gave him credit for." Ezra's face clouds. You take his hand, squeeze his fingers in yours. You know little about Damon other than the town gossip and what Ezra himself has told you. You don't understand the convolutions of their relationship, you just know that Damon is a slow-healing wound, and that it does Ezra no good to pick at it. You tug at him.          "C'mon. Let's get changed. Cee's already got her suit on."

         "Turn around, Birdie, let me get your back." Cee rolls her eyes but does as she's asked. Ezra sprays sunscreen across her bony shoulders and rubs it in.          "I found a boogie board under the deck," says Cee, "And some toys from when I was real small. I found those floaty things you all used to put on my arms, remember those?"          "I do," says Ezra, "Damon chucked you into the surf without so much as a by-your-leave. It scared the hell out of Ma but you laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You're good to go, Little Bird."          "Thanks, Ez." And she's down the stairs, heading towards the surf.          "Your turn, Sunshine," he says and you turn your back to him. He presses a kiss against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, that one place that makes you squirm and shiver, right on the line between erogenous and ticklish.          "Menace--" you say and then squawk when the cold spray hits you, soothed by the passage of his calloused palm across your shoulders, gently gripping the nape of your neck, and you lean back against him briefly, relishing his solidity, his warmth, his hand rests lightly on your hip.          "Let me get your back," you say. Ezra turns his back to you and shucks out of his t-shirt. He's already ditched his prosthetic arm. Don't know how seaworthy it is, he'd said, as expensive as it was I don't care to find out. You shake the can of sunscreen and blast him with it.          "Christ! That's cold!"          "We gotta make sure Cee reapplies after a couple hours," you say, smoothing your hands over his broad back, relishing the slide of his tanned skin beneath your palms, "She'll burn to a crisp otherwise." You press your fingers into the tight muscles of his neck and he makes a contented sound like a purr in his chest.          "You're always so tense right here," you say and dig your fingers in, feeling the thrumming muscles loosen somewhat under your touch. Ezra leans back into you as you did to him moments ago, your arms snake around his shoulders, tuck your face against the side of his neck. This thing with you and Ezra is soft and languid and you're not sure how to define it. This is not the fevered, clawed territory of young lovers, the sort of push and pull you had with your ex, the idea that love had to keep proving itself somehow. With Ezra there is nothing to prove. He seems content to ride this gentle wave, to let things play out in their own time.          "Turn around," you murmur against his skin, "Not done with you yet."          "Now, I am perfectly capable of applying--" he starts, but you see his eyes drop, and know it for what it is. You've known Ezra for a while. The two of you were always friendly, since you moved in across the street from him. Ezra before was even more exuberant, had a swagger about him, confidence in his own skin that is only just now trying starting to return. Ezra before would preen under your gaze if he caught you looking at him while he repainted his deck or put down mulch in his garden, Ezra now shrinks from your eyes. You can see the self-doubt seep in. The worry about his scars, that the loss of his arm makes him less, somehow.          "I know," you say, "Maybe I just want an excuse to get handsy." He arcs an eyebrow at you, that brief flash of doubt replaced with his more familiar smug smirk.          "Well, have at it, by all means," he says. You spray him with the sunscreen and start rubbing it in, smoothing over his freckled shoulders, down his upper arms, mindful of the tender skin at the end of his stump, the dips of his clavicles, his broad chest, littered in angry pink scars that shout in contrast to the rest of his skin. Punched indentations along his ribs where they'd stuck in tubes to drain the air and blood out of his collapsed lungs. You work your way down along his soft belly and back up his sides, a hissed intake of breathe and you stop.          "Does that hurt?"          "Nah. Tickles."          "Mmm-hmmm. I'll have to remember that so I can use it to my advantage later."          "Oh and I'm the menace," he says, his arm curls low around your hip, pulling you nearly flush with him, and you complete the motion, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him tight against you, your chin notched over his shoulder. Cee is creeping up the stairs with a battered plastic bucket in her hands. She shoots you a grin and you know exactly what she has in mind. You back up a little, cup Ezra's stubbled cheeks in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose.          "Surprise," you say and take a big step back. There's just time enough for that little furrow to start between his brows and then Cee dowses him, a whole bucket of seawater poured directly over his head. He splutters. His eyes go big and round. Cee is doubled over laughing.          "Oh," he says, blinking salt water out of his eyes, "Oh that's it. Today's the day, Cee! I am going to drown you!"          "Gotta catch me first, old man!" says Cee and pelts down the beach. You run after them, their bright laughter peals through the warm summer air. Ezra grabs Cee and dunks her into an oncoming wave. She emerges splashing great fans into Ezra's face.          "It is only proper that I took my vengeance," says Ezra, holding his hands out to deflect the spray.          "I don't think the Geneva conventions apply here, you douche-canoe," says Cee.          "Oi! That language--" This is your opening. You grab Ezra around his waist and push off backward into the oncoming wave, pulling him down with you. The two of you come back up, coughing and laughing, arms slung around each other. There's no shadow in Ezra's eyes now, you press your lips to his, the waves roll over you, the tide dragging at your bodies while you and him remain still. Press of your lips to his, your tongue licks out and tastes salt on his lips and he opens for you, his hand cupping the back of your head, guiding you against him, his tongue stroking against yours, no battle for dominance, this, just the plush heat of his mouth, the heave of your chests when you finally break apart, waist deep in the ocean.          "I--" says Ezra and Cee's splash hits at face level.          "Gotcha!" she crows, and starts running.          "You miserable little rat!" He hollers, chasing her through the surf. You stand hip deep in the water and laugh. You're not sure what you and Ezra are to each other. Lovers? Friends? Family? Whatever it this is, it feels right and good. It feels like being home.

A/n: Here is a sampling of Cee’s beach trip playlist:

“I Want To Go To The Beach” by Iggy Pop

“Telstar” by The Tornados

“Cake By The Ocean” by DNCE

“Rockaway Beach” by The Ramones

“Misirlou” by Dick Dale and his Del-Tones

[miracleonice87]

38 with Mat

from the Winter/Christmas Writing Prompts list

38. “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss.” 🎄

quick note: this one is prob a bit longer than the others will be. I just L O V E writing Sydney and Marty as secondary characters in Mat stories.

quick warnings: swearing, alcohol, super snowy powdery Christmas fluff

and, just for fun, song pairing: mistletoe by Justin Bieber (obviously)

_____

There really was no place like home.

After moving away to Los Angeles to attend USC for both undergrad and grad studies, you were finally back in New York. You hadn’t been able to resist the pull — it was almost as if, from all the way across the continent, you could feel the Atlantic tide receding and pulling you home along with it. For better or for worse, you belonged to the Empire State.

Sydney, your lifelong best friend and a New Yorker herself, was beyond ecstatic, as she had recently gotten engaged to her longtime boyfriend Matt, a hockey player, and named you her maid of honor. Planning a wedding — not to mention showers and bachelorette festivities — would be far easier, and far more fun, with you in the same zip code. Since moving back six weeks ago, you’d spent about ninety percent of your time with Sydney by your side, making up for lost time with the woman who had long been your other half.

So sweet, right? There was just one problem. Sydney wouldn’t stop trying to set you up with guys. She was insistent that you’d been single for too long — you’d broken up with your college sweetheart by the end of your senior year — and she made it her mission for you to find love again. And she, on her own, was bad enough — she’d already hooked you up with so many friends of friends that you’d lost count, and none had been interesting enough for a second date — but her fiancé conspiring right along with her made resisting them that much more difficult.

This particular night, she had lured you to the home she shared with Matt under the guise of having dinner with her family, when in reality, she was throwing a Christmas dinner party for Matt’s closest friends on the team. All of whom had — and brought — significant others. Except for one. What a coincidence.

Also coincidentally, his name was Mat, too, or so you were told — you didn’t quite believe Syd’s Matt when he told you that upon introducing the two of you.

“Mat with one ’t,’” he announced, one arm slung around Mat’s shoulders. The handsome, dark-haired man swallowed thickly and gave you his best polite smile — it was in that moment that you realized beyond a shadow of a doubt this was yet another set up.

Matt made a lame excuse about needing to check on Sydney in the kitchen and snuck away after some brief pleasantries, but not before blatantly nudging your much-smaller frame toward New Mat. You gave Matt a menacing glare before recovering, standing a safe distance away from New Mat, leaning against the wooden beam behind you to keep you steady.

“So, Mat with one ’t,’ how long have you played with the ever-obnoxious Matty?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Mat laughed easily. Damn, he had a nice laugh — the kind that made his pretty eyes crinkle at the corners. Nice hair. Nice teeth — perfect fucking teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be a hockey player? Wait, what was he saying? Something about Seattle, and the draft, and… now you were lost. You nodded slowly with a forced smile as you tried your hardest to focus on what he was saying. He was just so goddamn pretty.

Thankfully, Sydney’s call from the kitchen saved you from the embarrassment of not having heard a word this poor boy had spoken.

“Dinner’s ready! I’m really type A, as you all know, so I made little placecards for everyone at the table,” she announced to the group of ten, hands clasped before her as Matt snaked an arm around her from behind and smiled proudly.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Mat mused. “Shall we?”

You threw him a grin and nodded, turning your back to him and making your way to the dining room.

On your way, you paused in front of your dear friend just long enough to grumble, “Assigned seats? Really, Syd?”

She clapped enthusiastically and smacked your ass as you passed her. “Yep! See you in there, champ!” she exclaimed as you heard frantic whispers exchanged between Mat and Matt. You couldn’t hold back your snicker, and as you glanced over your shoulder, Mat gave you a strained smile. You shook your head bemusedly and turned to the table to find that, to no one’s surprise, you and Mat were indeed to be seated side by side at one end of the table. You cleared your throat and nodded toward the cards bearing your names.

“Subtle, no?” you joked, causing Mat to blush pink. He choked out, “Ah, yeah. You gotta love them.” Then, he pulled out your chair and motioned for you to take a seat, which, as luck would have it, Sydney and Matt caught just in time because they were bringing in the food on serving dishes at that very moment. Their eyes sparkled and Sydney looked like she may self-destruct out of sheer joy as you sat down and thanked Mat. You gave her an icy look and she visibly retreated, holding herself back from making a complete scene.

“Okay, dig in!” she said instead as she sat down across from you.

Dinner was incredible, as usual — while your talents lacked in the cooking area, Sydney had always been an outstanding chef. Even more, you enjoyed the conversation, which was mostly inclusive of everyone at the table, save for the occasional chirp Mat secretly muttered in your ear about Matt or Anders, making you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle as Sydney looked on smugly. Meanwhile, whenever you and Sydney would say the exact same thing at the same moment or finish the other’s sentence, Mat would look to Marty, who would only raise his eyebrows and nod, confirming Mat’s suspicion that these two were always this in sync. Mat found it endearing. He adored Syd — if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed to come here tonight when she told him, “There’s someone I want you to meet…” — and already, he saw countless similarities in the two of you.

After he’d helped you clear the plates and load the dishwasher for your hosts, you and Mat settled onto a couch in the farthest corner of the living room, near the Christmas tree, while the others gathered in the center of the space, loudly entertaining themselves. As you curled your feet underneath yourself, you didn’t miss how Sydney reached for a nearby remote and slowly flickered on the fireplace right beside you and Mat. Yet again, you shot her a killer look that she pretended not to see as Mat smiled, amused at how flustered you were by Sydney trying to further set the mood.

“So how long have you known Syd?” he asked as he took another swig from his beer bottle, attempting to get you back on track. “Has to be a while. I swear I’ve never seen two friends who were more alike.”

You tucked some hair behind your ear and let out a breathy chuckle. With anyone else, you were ever prepared to skirt that question and quickly move on to another subject. But with Mat, it was nice knowing you really didn’t have to.

“Yeah, my whole life, actually,” you answered, a smile on your face at the thought. Your eyes flickered up to his as you added, “My dad played for the Jets... with Boomer while he was there.”

Mat’s brows quirked noticeably, but not in the familiar way that made you feel like he was about to ask you to FaceTime your dad or get an autograph from him. Because he was a professional athlete himself — which was ironic because you’d sworn up and down your whole life that, because of the lifestyle you saw your dad and his teammates, not to mention their families, lead, you’d never fall for anyone who played sports for a living. Even when Sydney insisted with a shrug after settling down with Matt, “It’s not that bad.”

“No way,” Mat said with a casual laugh. “That’s awesome. What position did he play?”

“Uh, receiver,” you replied. “So he and Boomer were tight. Our moms hit it off right off the bat and have been best friends since. Since then, we’ve always vacationed together, ended up living in the same neighborhood after they both retired. I’m three years younger than Syd and I was basically like her shadow. Still am, I guess,” you added with a smile.

Mat nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as you told the familiar tale. “I think that’s awesome though,” he spoke. “You guys could be sisters I feel like. You act just like her. Plus Marty says you’re the only friend of hers who’s kicked him out of bed so you could sleep with her.”

You threw a hand to your chest and your head back laughing at that, and Mat’s heart soared at being able to elicit such a reaction from you himself. You pointed a gold-polished index finger at him and admitted, “He tells no lies on that one.”

Just then, you caught Mat’s unabashed gaze, which had shifted from well-mannered and nonchalant into something deeper, something... affectionate. You swallowed, casting a downward glance at your lap, and swirled the ice cubes in your otherwise empty highball glass.

“I need a refill,” you said with a nervous giggle. “You want anything?”

Mat looked all too pleased with himself at your offer, and he nodded. “Sure, yeah, another beer would be great. Thank you,” he said. You smiled and nodded as you turned away and headed for the kitchen.

Ever the subtle one, once again, Sydney, who had been shamelessly watching the two of you from her perch in Matt’s lap across the room, stumbled over Jax’s paw as she bolted to the kitchen island where you now stood. You blinked at her wildly and said, “May I help you, Sydney Irene? You nearly wounded your poor dog.”

“So,” Sydney sang, ignoring your question completely as she leaned back against the kitchen counter, propping her palms on the edge and looking much more smooth than she had just a moment ago. She waggled her eyebrows at you before continuing. “Whadd’ya think? He’s cute, right?”

You scoffed. “Sydney—“ you began in a warning tone as you reached for the rum, but were interrupted before you could speak another word.

“If you hate him, it was Matt’s idea,” she deadpanned, then allowed a mischievous grin to stretch along her painted red lips as she cocked her head. “But if you like him, it was mine.”

You rolled your eyes as you poured yourself another rum ginger, ignoring the flush you could feel creeping up your chest and neck under Sydney’s scrutiny.

“You’re blushing! You do like him!” Syd squealed as she poked at your side, thankfully making an attempt to stay quiet as the guys, Mat included, carried on noisy shenanigans in the family room before you.

“Sydney, stop! I just met him,” you tried to argue, turning away from her. It was Sydney’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Like that matters. I fell for Matt like—“ she snapped her fingers for dramatic effect, “—that. And look at us now.”

You pursed your lips to the side. You couldn’t exactly argue that. With no quick comeback coming to mind, you stirred your drink, took three generous gulps — as Sydney watched, wide-eyed — and licked your lips before sighing at her.

“Well, fine,” you grumbled as you opened the fridge and grabbed a fresh beer for Mat. “Let’s not keep the boy waiting then.” You sashayed away from your friend who, spinning away from you, quickly squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers before turning back and following behind you.

Mat thanked you profusely for the drink as you returned to him. Now he sat among his teammates, and Sydney sat back in Matt’s lap as you took the seat beside Mat on the opposite couch. You noticed how he immediately leaned back and comfortably stretched his arm across the cushion behind you, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t inch a little closer then. It briefly occurred to you that you were drawn to him in the very same way you’d been drawn back home not long ago.

He felt like home. Already.

And soon, after a few hours more of merrymaking, Mat never leaving your side, the other couples had all headed for home. You four who remained had played several rounds of euchre and sang and danced to half a dozen Christmas carols before you realized how late it was. Knowing you’d had too much rum and wouldn’t be fit to drive, you’d already established that you’d stay in Sydney’s guest room — or maybe kick Matt out of the master. Regardless, you were staying put. But Mat, reluctantly, was leaving — the boys had practice in the morning.

“I guess I should go,” Mat sighed after a long round of goodbyes. Matt and Sydney gave him one last hug and retreated to the far side of the spacious room, aiming, of course, to leave the two of you to your own goodbye.

You nodded. “I guess you should,” you said, caught off guard by the twinge of sadness in your tone. “I’ll walk you out.” Mat smiled and turned toward the front door, and your heart truly may have skipped an actual beat when he glanced back at you and reached his hand out for you to grab. You did so, biting down on your smiling bottom lip as you followed him down the hall into the entryway, acutely aware that, if Sydney and Matt were indeed watching — of which you had no doubt — they could still clearly see you.

But when Mat pulled on his shoes and stood up straight again, stepping slowly, so slowly, closer to you, all you could think about was how hard your heart was thumping against your ribcage. You looked up at him in anticipation, and he smoothed his hands down the sleeves of your sweater softly.

“I had a really, really nice time tonight, you know,” Mat spoke. You had to remind yourself to breathe as the sincerity of his voice flooded your senses and his warm, honey-flecked eyes pierced through you. “Tonight was honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You beamed — how could you not? “Yeah?” you asked incredulously. Mat nodded.

“Yeah. In fact,” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if maybe, uh, you’d want to go to dinner with me sometime. Like maybe this Sunday night, after we play?”

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, yet had no control.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “Yes. Of course. I’d love that.”

Mat blew out a long breath and chuckled nervously. “Thank God,” he added as you both dissolved into a fit of giggles. You stepped closer to him and smelled his clean, woodsy cologne, inadvertently breathing it in. Mat came nearer, too, and tentatively reached his hands around to your lower back. “It’s a date then,” he spoke, his voice lower now, gravelly. You swallowed — hard — and gave a nod.

“It’s a date,” you echoed.

You simply stood in one another’s presence for a few long moments, smiling giddily at each other, before Mat sighed once more and glanced toward the door.

“I really don’t wanna go, but I—“

“No! Syd, just leave them be,” Matt suddenly whispered sharply to his fiancé — who seemed to have literally leapt up from the couch — though there was no point in whispering at all because you still heard him loud and clear. Jumping up behind Sydney, Matt easily wrapped her in his arms and clapped his hand over her mouth just as she started to speak.

After wrestling for control of Matt’s hand, she finally pulled it away just long enough to call out, “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss already!”

With one final “shush!”, Matt covered her mouth once more, though his entire body was wracking with silent laughter.

“Goodnight, kids!” Matt said tersely as he all but manhandled Sydney down the opposite hallway into their bedroom, the two of them erupting with laughter the second they closed the door.

You rolled your jaw and looked above you and Mat to find that, yes, indeed, there hung a very Sydney-like crystal ornament adorned with glittery mistletoe, suspended from the archway.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you muttered, resting your head against Mat’s chest as you both laughed anxiously.

But a moment later, Mat’s voice rumbled in his chest. “Hey...” he spoke. You took that as your invitation to look up at him, and when you did, you found him gazing at you even more tenderly than he had before.

“I mean, since there’s mistletoe and all.. would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asked. His hand found your cheek and you grasped his fingers in your own.

“Well,” you began, leaning further into him. “Only since there’s mistletoe.”

Mat breathed a chuckle and whispered, “Okay, good,” before his lips found yours in a toe-curling, snow-melting, heart-growing, hell of a Christmas movie kiss that you both found yourselves smiling into by the end.

“Wow,” was somehow all you could whisper when you finally pulled away for air.

“Yeah,” Mat agreed simply. “Wow.”

“It worked!” You heard the muffled squeal from behind Sydney’s closed door.

You rolled your eyes once again, hating Sydney in that moment, as Mat snickered and leaned in for another kiss.

Little did you know that a few years later, your dear, meddling Sydney would stand up at your side in front of a ballroom filled with your and Mat’s family and dearest friends and proudly tell the story of that cold late-December night when your love story with Mat began.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, sternclay 60 sfw? OwO

Here you go!

60 Sterncly SFW. we’re both on a reality show (like the queer bachelor) where we’re told to be friends but the first time we met, you were incredibly rude and judgmental and I don’t know if I can do this for the damn cameras

“So, Barclay, now that we’re a few days in, what’s your impression of the other contestants?”

“They, uh, they all seem like great guys. We come from a lot of different backgrounds, so that’s kind of interesting to be around but, uh, I live in a place that’s like a big, chosen family, so being in a house with a bunch of types of personalities is kinda, uh, homey.”

“There’s no one you think you’ll struggle with?”

“Uh. Well. I, uh, I don’t like Joseph too much. He came in and he’s so, like, phony from all the years in the FBI. It’s like he’s trying to be polite and charming but really he thinks we’re all idiots for being here. Which, like, buddy, last I checked you signed up for this the same as the rest of us.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Joseph, any worries about the other contestants?”

“No. I mean, we’re competitors on a dating show, not enemies. I think we’re all trying to show Vincent the best versions of ourselves.”

“There’s no one you’ve had conflicts with?”

“........I, um, Barclay and I got into a small argument earlier about the house rules. But I’m sure if we both stick around long enough we’ll come to an understanding.”

----------------------------------------------------

“Gentlemen, this cannot continue.” Ned, the producer, sits on the couch across from them. Barclay glares at Joseph, but the other man keeps a cool demeanor. Great, he’s making Barclay look like the big, angry mountain even off camera.

“I thought reality shows needed conflict to thrive.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow.

“They do, but about big things, like love and rivalry. Not how to properly load a dishwasher.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.”

“My way is perfectly fine.” Barclay snaps, “jesus, I worked in kitchens for years, I know how to get clean plates.”

“That doesn’t make it optimal.”

“Do you have to be right about everything?”

“Gentlemen, you recall we have a housekeeping staff, right?”

“It doesn’t matter” Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off Ned, “we’re supposed to all get along, not all try and prove we’re the smartest guy in the room.”

“See, this is your problem, you need everyone to like you, to see you like a big brother, but you’re missing the fact that at least three of them have decided your gentle giant persona is a threat and they’re trying to oust you.”

“It’s not a persona, it’s just how I am. We aren’t all government shams disguised as men.”

Joseph’s facade cracks for a moment, blue eyes trying to light Barclay on fire.

“Enough.” Ned shakes his head, “you may despise each other as much as you please behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, please try to act as if you’re not ten seconds away from coming to blows. Agreed?”

They trade a final, furious look.

“Agreed.”

------------------------------------------------------

They’re a little over three weeks in; Vincent is still doing lots and lots of short, individual dates between the group outings, so the contestants have ample time to hang around the house and get on each others nerves.

Case in point: Joseph was right when he warned Barclay that others saw him as a threat. Chad, Alex, Nico, and Rich have all decided to go after him. Just this morning he’s been told he’s not man enough for Vincent (he shooed a wolf spider out of the kitchen with a broom instead of squishing it), too girly (he offered to make cupcakes if people wanted), and too big (who'd want to fuck a six foot tall puppy).

His mood is not helped by Joseph chatting away on the couch about his former job with the FBI. Barclay swears it’s all the asshole knows how to talk about. Maybe it’s time for Barclay to play a game of his own.

“Hey, Joseph.”

The other man turns, black hair perfectly slicked back like he thinks he’s some kind of movie star.

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t make it until eight tonight without talking about your job.”

The other contestants in the room snicker, several even giving Barclay a thumbs up.

Joseph adjusts his shirt sleeves, “You’re on.”

Ten hours later, Barclay is forced to get his wallet. The other man never mentioned the FBI once. In fact, he did Barclay an even bigger favor; he didn’t talk at all.

He finds the agent sitting on the back steps leading into the garden. Stays standing as he holds out the cash, “you win fair and square.”

Joseph looks at the money, then looks away, “I did it to show I could, not for the bet.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to go, uh, quite so hard on the silence thing.”

“I didn’t mean to. But, um, every time I was going to open my mouth, I realized it was somehow related to work. So I kept quiet.” He sighs, stretches out his legs. He’s in slacks, because of course he is, “I must have been so tedious to listen to, no wonder I was driving you up the wall.”

“Joseph-”

“I really am married to my career. I guess it’s not surprising my last chance for love is on a T.V show.”

“Hey, I get it.” Barclay sits down next to him, “when I was first working in commercial kitchens my hours were crazy; I barely saw my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend who pretty quickly became my ex. But it was what I needed to do to build the career I wanted for myself. To do what I loved.”

Only the crickets and the distant waves reply. Then, “You said you were a private chef now, right? Along with writing cookbooks?”

“Yeah. Kinda surprised you remembered.”

“Listening is a major skill in my profession. Besides, it’s polite to pay attention to what people tell you.”

“What’s your job now? You only ever talk about the FBI stuff?”

“Paranormal investigation. I never bring it up because people assume I’m out chasing Bigfoot with a shaky-cam or trying to communicate with haunted dolls.”

“So...what is it instead?”

“Helping people figure out they’re homes aren’t haunted or the monster on their property is just some owls. I like the challenge of solving the mystery, and I like helping people feel safe in they’re homes.”

Loud voices form inside; the caterers must have refilled the bar. He doesn’t really want to go in. It’s too nice out here.

“You wanna hear about the restaurant my coworkers swore was haunted?”

Joseph perks up, turning to face him, “Yes, please.”

-----------------------------------------------------

He’d been really looking forward to beach day. Six guys are already gone, and Vincent has taken his fleet of suitors to the sunny San Diego shores. Barclay is dismayed to find all but three of the other guys have waxed their chests. Joseph hasn’t, but his happy trail is nothing compared to fucking black forest on Barclays torso. Nico’s gotten half the guys to call Barclay “bigfoot.”It makes him feel like he’s back in high school P.E freshman year, and his body image is rapidly sliding into that of a shy fourteen year old.

“Barclay!” Joseph comes jogging out of the surf towards the towels they lay down side by side when they arrived, “you should come in, it’s really the perfect weather for swimming.” He drops onto his towel, black hair a bit mussed. The swim-shorts that he thought were blue with green spots turn out to have not dots, but tiny UFOs on them.

“I, uh, I’m good. I, uh, I burn easily and I don’t think anyone wants to rub sunscreen on my hairy back.”

“Hey, Bigfoot, what’s wrong? Scared of what’ll happen if the cameras get a load of your gut?”

Barclay growls, stares at his toes. Joseph tracks Nico as he finishes jogging by. Then he calmly picks up a frisbee, aims a throw, and knocks his snapback off his head. He’s sitting down before the other man can work out who threw it. Barclay chuckles, but doesn’t get up.

“Bigfoot’s my favorite cryptid.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“And who gives a shit if you have a stomach.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re cut.”

Joseph grabs his sunglasses, “because I like that for my body. I happen to like yours just as much. Um I, I mean, it seems like Vincent likes it.” He tips his head towards the Bachelor, who gives them both a long once-over.

“...Will you do my back?”

“Of course, big guy.” The nickname sounds so right on his tongue it makes Barclay want to set his head in his lap and ask him to pet it.

It’s late afternoon when Ned herds them all onto a boat which promptly steers towards some cliffs. Joseph stays close to Barclay, pleasant expression noticeably tightening the closer they get to the rocks.

“I’ve been dreading this. Cliff diving is not something I’d pick to do on my own.”

“Heights?”

He shakes his head, “Deep water. I know it’s not rational, and I even checked to be sure there hadn’t been large shark sightings in the area, but I can never shake the feeling there’s something waiting just out of sight, ready to surge up and eat me.”

They all climb up together, Vincent staying on the boat to watch them jump (this is technically a friendly competition to show off how brave they are). As they’re turns get closer, Barclay sees Joseph doing deep breathing exercises.

They hit the edge. The agent freezes.

“Shit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“C’mon, where’s my daring special agent?”

Joseph still doesn’t move.

“You, uh, you wanna jump together? Maybe the megaladon or whatever will eat me instead.”

“Megalodons are extinct; we’d know if they weren’t, same as we know Whale Sharks aren’t.”

“They you are.” Barclay murmurs, smiling.

Joseph manages a smile back, “On three?”

“Yep. One, two” he grabs Joseph’s hand “three”

The water rises to swallow them with terrifying speed, but nothing is waiting for them except one very startled fish. They surface together, Joseph laughing triumphantly, hair plaster to his head and sun shining in his ocean eyes.

If Vincent doesn’t pick him, he’s out of his mind.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Ohmylord, we have to play this.” Joseph cannot believe his luck; he figured the barcade group date would mean a lot of solo time, but here’s his favorite game in the whole wide world.

“Monster Hunt?” Barclay laughs as he lets himself be lovingly shoved down into the seat of a cut-out Jeep, “very on brand.”

“They had this at the bowling alley near my house. I’d play when my parents had league night but couldn't get a sitter. I never could beat the Mothman level without a player two.”

He doesn’t have that problem tonight, even with Barclay distractingly delighted and handsome in the seat beside him. After that, they make it their mission to find every two-player game in the thrum of flashing colors and tinny music. He finds they both like the Bowser Bourbon Smash, and somewhere around their fourth, heated game of air hockey they each polish of one too many of them to stay upright without the support of a game, a helpful show staff member, or each other.

When they get back to the house (their fellow contestants all in a similar state to themselves) they manage to make it to Joseph’s room before collapsing into a giggling heap on the bed.

“That, hic, that was fun. Games are, hic, fun.” Barclay blinks at him, “what’re you laughing, hic, at.”

“You, you got the hiccups. S’funny because you’re so big, like, like watching a, a pitbull with a, um, a” he makes a squeezing motion that his sober self would recognize as “squeaky toy.”

“M’not big” Barclay pouts, “I, hic, maybe everyone else is, hic, just small. Ever think of th--hic--at.”

“S’not a bad thing.” Joseph shifts so they’re facing each other, “like how big you are. Makes you sexy.”

Barclay blushes, “you’re, hic, one to, to talk. You’re hot, so, hic, so fucking out. Got, got those eyes. That, hic, that face” He touches Joseph’s cheek, “love your face.”

“Love yours too.” Joseph says, stroking his beard. Then they’re moving in inelegant tandem, grabbing at each others shoulders and faces as their mouths find each other. Barclay is so warm, whimpering when Joseph rolls him on top, nipping his lips and pawing at him like a puppy hoping for a treat. Joseph is going to hold him close and let him have it.

A clatter from below, one of the other men knocking something over in the kitchen, breaks the spell.

“Wait, wait” Joseph reluctantly slides his hands of Barclays ass, “we, drunk, we’re drunk, too drunk.”

Barclay blinks down at him, pouting a little even as he groans “fuck, you’re, you’re right. Wanna, gotta remember this. Don’t wanna” he yawns, “regret it.” The instant he flops onto his back Joseph climbs into his arms and falls asleep to the slow rhythm of his breathing.

-----------------------------------------------

After that night, they agree to be more careful; they’re here for Vincent, to see if one of them is his true love. That’s what the contract they signed says.

“More careful” turns out to mean watching their alcohol intake around each other and only touching platonically (including falling asleep on the couch together. They wake up to cameras recording their nap. Barclay isn’t sure what Joseph threatens Ned with, but the footage never sees the light of day).

But unless they’re on a solo date with Vincent, they’re by each others side. Barclay teaches Joseph dominoes and how to make biscuits. Joseph introduces him to terrible old horror movies that they watch on his laptop and compliments his cooking every chance he gets.

They must be doing something right, because they move to the next round week after week, Vincent clearly enamored with both of them. Barclay certainly understands the feeling. Just not for the person who he’s supposed to.

“Joseph? If, uh, if neither of us win, what are you gonna do after this.”

“Go back to work. Maybe pitch my book about U.S cryptids.” Joseph’s smile goes shy for a moment before recovering, “but I wouldn’t worry, big guy; I think you’re the front runner for sure.”

Barclay knows for a fact that Joseph is a fan favorite and the suitor most people think will win. Which is why, when Vincent selects his final four, he’s not surprised Joseph gets the first rose. Then everyone but Barclay is holding one and Vincent is touching his shoulder.

“Barclay, please don’t take this as a sign I’m not deeply fond of you. This wasn’t an easy choice but I, well, I feel like your heart may not be in this anymore.”

He takes Vincent’s hand and squeezes it, “It’s okay. It was wonderful just to get to know you. All of you.” He looks at the final four, at Joseph’s calm, polite expression. He meets blue eyes as he says, “I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that he turns, all too aware of the cameras tracking his exit, his face, how he’ll have to do a final interview and not reveal that he’ll hate Vincent forever but not blame him in the slightest if he marries Joseph.

“Wait!”

Every eye, lensed or no, turns back to the gazebo. Joseph is at the edge of the steps, poised to run. When he sees Barclay stop, he turns to Vincent.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” He hands the bachelor the rose, “I hope you understand.”

There’s no soundtrack on set, but strings swell in his ears all the same as Joseph descends the stairs and leaps into his arms, kissing him so hard he still has stars in his eyes when he opens them.

“It’s not a marriage proposal” Joseph whispers, kissing his cheek, “but I do have a question for you.” He pulls back, all cameras on them but his attention for Barclay alone, “would you like to be my boyfriend, big guy?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “Yeah, babe, I really, really would.”

[rodeoxqueen]

SMELLS LIKE QUARAN-NEROKIRI SPIRIT 

Nero/Kyrie

“In quarantine, Nero and Kyrie spend time together.” 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

First time writing for Nero/Kyrie. Tread lightly with my take of their dynamic. 

(I)- Dalgona Coffee and Cookies. 

Despite how everything was shut down and the grocery was found vacant of basic necessities, Nero was grateful to at least be with someone he loved the most. 

“Look, we probably need some time off from kickin’ demon ass anyways,” Nico explained, smoking a cigarette during the video chat. 

“Yeah, not like demons care about being six feet away. People don’t even do that.” Nero looked at himself in the little square in the corner of his phone. Clad in a grey hoodie, he hadn’t even bothered putting on anything over his boxers. No one had come to visit since the mandate to stay inside, what was the point? 

Nico was in her garage again, from what he could see in the camera view. Cigarettes and old cups of coffee littered her desk, warbled country music playing off-view. 

“Who knows, maybe I’ll make something to fix that. I was thinking a mask-gun, rapid-fire reloading.” 

“Artisan of Arms, huh?” Nero laughed, getting up from his bed. 

“You fuckin’ bet. Now I gotta go. Got some things to weld.” 

“See ya, Nico. Stay safe, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a peace sign before pressing “end video call.” 

The video chat ended and Nero tucked his phone into his pocket. Even banter just wasn’t the same virtually. 

“Who was that? Nico?” Nero made it down the hallway to see Kyrie, bustling about getting things from the cupboards. 

“Yeah, still building stuff as usual.” 

Kyrie had been in their apartment’s kitchen, deciding to try her hand at some recipes she saw online. A bag of flour, too many bowls, and more chocolate than Nero remembered buying, all laid out on the table. 

Just when he wanted something to eat, he’d have to wait or his girlfriend would practically make enough to feed an army and be surprised when he didn’t want anymore. 

He opted for a cup of water instead. 

Nero admired her hair, how it looked when it wasn’t in a ponytail, how it sat perfectly on her shoulders. Seeing how she started to measure some ingredients, he took the hair tie on his wrist, careful fingers bringing it into a low ponytail. 

“Oh, thank you.” She commented, opening her booklet of recipes she had handwritten. Neat, slanted cursive in a smattering of blue, red, and black read out recipes for cookies, cakes, and bread. 

“You look busy, planning to make all of those?” Nero rested his chin on her shoulder, shrouding her with warmth. 

“Well, I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at home, might as well try some recipes out. Maybe we can deliver some to the orphanage.” 

“That is if I don’t eat all your prototypes first.” She laughed, birdsong to Nero’s ears. 

“As long as you help me I don’t mind if you do.” Kyrie handed him a measuring cup. Nero sighed, taking it. He always lost count of how many cups of flour he was supposed to put in the bowl. 

A jar of porous dough caught his eye as he sifted some baking soda in his white mixture. He took it from Kyrie’s side of the island. 

“Whoa, what is this? A science experiment?” Kyrie chuckled, watching Nero scrutinize the date on the white tape to the top of the mason jar. 

“No, it’s a sourdough starter! It’s basically wild yeast. We can make bread with it since people bought out all the dry yeast in the grocery store.” 

Nero shook it with curiosity and then opened the silver lid, making an “eh” face at the smell. 

“It’s yeast alright.” 

Kyrie continued whipping up the sugar and butter mixture, Nero helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips. 

“Have you talked to your uncle and father? They must be staying at the shop in Redgrave.” 

Nero shrugged. 

“Most likely, I haven’t talked to them yet. Dante probably didn’t pay the phone bill and Vergil doesn’t know how to use the phone anyways.” 

“Let’s just hope they’re getting along during this time.” 

Nero thought back to all the “family outings” he had since his uncle and father returned from hell, mostly just jobs becoming contests of strength that turned to friendly family fights. Endless banter and elbowing. 

Honestly, compared to that, standing next to his girlfriend while they shaped cookies for the oven was heaven. 

Once the chocolate chip cookie dough was done baking, Kyrie insisted they make some whipped coffee while they cooled.  

“I thought you didn’t like coffee, Kyrie.” She stooped down to find something in the lower cabinets. A robotic hand that was colored dark blue and black, his old Devil Bringer, appeared with a tiny whisk duct-taped to it. 

“Yeah, but that TikTok made it look so good.” Nero handed her the glass container of instant coffee. 

Turning on the Devil Bringer, the tiny whisk spun to life, rapidly mixing sugar, coffee, and water together. With her back turned, Nero popped a thing of cookie dough in his mouth. 

“Honestly, Nico should have patented these Devil Bringers, make a bunch of money, and maybe she’d stop trying to rip me off all those times.” 

“Support local businesses, Nero.” 

He looked over her shoulder, surprised at how an abysmal brown mixture had become fluffy and thrice its previous volume. 

Two cups of milk poured, the practically instantly whipped coffee laid on top like a decadent Mount Everest next to a still-warm plate of cookies. 

“Cheers!” Kyrie clinked glasses with him, stirring her mug vigorously with a spoon. He copied her, taking a sip of surprisingly light and sweet coffee. 

When he lowered his cup, Nero both revealed to the world a mustache of whipped coffee. 

Kyrie snorted into her cup, covering her mouth as she bit back a laugh. Embarrassed, Nero went to wipe it off when Kyrie pecked him on the lips. She drew back to reveal an imprint of the ‘stache on her own upper lip. 

“We match now.” Kyrie giggled, helping herself to another gooey cookie. 

Half a plate of cookies and two mugs properly drained of its contents, Kyrie and Nero loaded up the dishwasher to do the work. 

“This is coffee, why am I tired?” Kyrie yawned. 

The couch was this god-awful IKEA purchase that took hours for Nero to just figure out what the instructions meant. But right now, it perfectly supported both of them while they slept away their food coma. 

(II)- Curl Up And Dye. 

After the second time the mandate got lengthened, Nero could sense that Kyrie was starting to wane in her ever-positive attitude. The news had nothing good to say, and the number of shows they had binged left them indifferent to watching anything more. 

They did a lot of singing during quarantine, Kyrie always being the musical one. Evanescence was one of their favorites to sing together, Nero’s guitar skills and Kyrie’s ability to hit those high notes left many memorable nights of laughter. 

After a while, Kyrie began to just sit on the couch a lot and have Nero pay her company. 

“What’s wrong?” Kyrie sighed heavily, curling into Nero’s hoodie as he opted to stay shirtless. 

“I don’t know Nero, it just feels like everything is the same. We go through the same things every day and I just feel...trapped.” 

Nero kissed the nape of her neck, humming in agreement. 

“Look, I’m usually the one going to you for stuff like this but...it will get better. It’s been a really hard time for all of us, and we’re just watching everything go downhill. It’s not a good situation but, you got me. Always. And there’s still a lot of things we can change up if that helps.” He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, feeling her take a deep breath. 

“You’re right Nero. That really did help. Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course.” 

While he scrolled on his own phone, he didn’t heed all the things Kyrie was watching. She touched her own long hair, seeing the way other people recorded their own home-salon trims. 

“Things to change, huh?” She mumbled. 

So here they were now. 

“It looks so bad!” Kyrie exclaimed, her face in her hands, hair on the bathroom sink. Nero shook his head. 

“No it’s not, Kyrie! You look fine, just let me fix it!” In the mirror, Nero cringed at the way her hair was ridiculously over-layered. 

“Um, what did you try to do-” 

“Curtain bangs! Oh Nero, I shouldn’t have tried to change up my hair!” Kyrie was thoroughly upset, seeing how her bout of bravery lead to her bangs being mauled by her own hands. 

Nero hugged her, noting that she had been wearing his shirt while she trimmed her hair. 

Okay that shirt’s gonna itch for a while until all the hair comes out. 

“It’s okay, let me see if I can fix it.” Kyrie blushed in the mirror, groaning at how bad her hair was cut. 

“There’s no way you could make it worse than what I did.” 

Nero gingerly took the scissors Kyrie put in the sink, a little bit too small for his hands but good enough. Although he was no stylist, he could tell where Kyrie had either cut too much off or unevenly. 

Eventually, they did manage to cut it in a way that hid the previous mistakes. Kyrie took another deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” She murmured, arms crossed. 

Nero chuckled at her rare emotional outburst. He was glad to have been able to be there for her. She always hid how she felt, helping others her way of expressing herself. Now with no one around but him, he totally understood that she felt helpless. 

No one liked being helpless. 

He kissed her cheek and a lightbulb went off in his head. 

“You wanna dye my hair?” Kyrie turned around in surprise. 

“What?” 

“I mean, who knows how long this shutdown is gonna be, it’ll be fun,” Kyrie noted how Nero had forgone shaving, his peach fuzz becoming something more. 

Honest blue eyes peered at her, wondering what she would think. Her surprise softened to a sort of relief in their solidarity. 

“What color, Nero?” 

“Neon green-” 

“Nico’s going to make fun of you.” Kyrie giggled. Nero shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I don’t mind it.” 

(III)- Can’t Get Out Of It, Get Into It. 

“Nero, you look so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Shut up, Dante.” 

His uncle finally managed to figure out how to work the virtual chat on his fossil of a computer, and Nero was already prepared to end the call. 

His father sat slightly off-camera, not in the mood to entertain Dante’s antics to ridicule his son. Although, he did look oddly radioactive with his washed-out green hair and strong quarter-past five o’clock shadow.  

“Quarantine did not do you a favor, good lord,” Dante commented, kicking his feet up on his desk. Nero flipped him off. 

“Good to know you’re still living in shambles, not surprised neither of you cleaned up after yourselves.” The number of bottles on the floor was a travesty and the couch littered with poetry books Vergil had slowly begun to hoard. 

Nico entered the zoom call, smoking another cigarette Nero was lucky to not have to smell. 

“Nice broccoli head.” 

Nero flipped her off as well. Kyrie came into view, smiling at her boyfriend’s family and their shared friends. Nero decided to get a drink, clicking a few buttons before letting Kyrie have the seat. 

As they discussed how the business would continue with Devil May Cry, Kyrie sat next to Nero. 

It was mainly business, until it got to a certain line that Dante said. 

“I don’t know, it just feels like things are just going to keep staying like this. Hate to break it to you Nero, but it’s going to be tough for a while.” 

Kyrie finally heard enough, scooching Nero aside so she could talk. 

“Kyrie, wait-” 

“We’re going to get past this. As long as humanity still keeps coming together for the sake of benefiting each other, and we keep working to make sure to keep safe, we will get past this. We just have to keep hoping, and sure, hoping isn’t always going to make you feel better. I would know. But in a time where we do feel helpless, we should connect with other people in a different way. That’s why we succeed, we keep moving, we keep adapting! And hope, hope keeps that going.” 

Kyrie took a long breath. Looking at the dumbfounded group, she waited for a response. 

“Um, Kyrie. You were muted.” Nero finally said. Kyrie realized her blunder and how Nero’s hand was attempting to unmute them. 

“Oh.” Kyrie flushed, looking embarrassed. 

“I have no idea what you just said, but that’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, that was so awkward.” 

“Don’t worry yourself, Kyrie. I bet it was real sweet whatever you had to say,” Nico assured. 

The zoom call was full of laughter since, a business call turned to a time to discuss how each person was doing. 

Dante and Vergil had spent days and nights sparring, Vergil learning more about humanity from Dante, and “making their own pizzas.” 

Nico had continued welding and making weapons for her own curiosity rather than based off of commission-based instructions. The van finally had the vinyl player fixed and she apparently gave herself a stick-and-poke. 

“So what did you two love birds do?” Nico asked, lighting another cancer stick. 

Nero and Kyrie looked at each other, smiling at their shared memories of this strange period in human history. 

“Where do we even start?”  Kyrie said, thinking of all the days and nights that seemed to breeze by and also slowly progress. 

Nero ruffled his longer messy green hair, Kyrie tucking her curtain bangs behind her ear. As they were two peas in the pod, Nero had decided to get another set of gray sweats for Kyrie, matching finally. 

Kyrie bit into a cookie, offering Nero some. 

“Smells like quarantine spirit, huh?” Dante finger-gunned.

Nero chuckled. 

“Hell yeah.” 

[dlwritings]

Help in Three Phases | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - roommate!Tom x reader word count - 4,359 warnings - language, period talk, masturbation (f), use of vibrator, oral (f receiving), m/f sex A/N - idk I’m pmsing pretty bad and this is how I’m feeling so here we are

summary - Your period hits you in three phases, and after living with Tom for six months, he finally starts to catch on to what you need during each one.

You had been living with Tom for a long time, and you loved it. You got along really well and made the perfect pair of roommates. Growing up, the two of you had been best friends. When you wanted to move out of your parents’ house but couldn’t afford to live on your own yet, Tom felt it was only natural to offer up his spare bedroom. You’d only have to pay half the rent, and if you missed a month, Tom would have no difficulty covering for you.

There was only one problem that came from being so close to Tom, and that was your dating life. For years, guys wouldn’t approach you because they assumed you were with Tom. And when they found out you weren’t, they were scared away by the fact that you lived with him. It was completely infuriating. Yes, you had, from time to time, wondered what it might be like to cross that line with him, but you were just best friends, and you hated how much that hindered any option you had in the dating world. It grew especially frustrating during one specific time of the month.

You were two things when you were PMSing: irritable and clingy. Not a period cycle went by where you didn’t wish you were the weepy girl on her period. No. You were the pissy girl. You got mad at everything, and you knew you were the worst to be around. All of the problems started about three days before your period actually hit and didn’t end until three days later. So while most girls dealt with seven days of a period, you basically dealt with seven days of bleeding and six days of side effects. Thus, your period came in three phases.

Phase one.

The days before your period, you had cravings and mood swings. The first day you felt it coming this time around, you and Tom had just finished dinner, and you were eagerly anticipating digging into your ice cream that was waiting for you in the freezer. Only it wasn’t there. You felt your jaw and your fists clench in anger. “Thomas,” you started, “where’s my ice cream?”

“Hmm?” Tom hummed from where he was loading the dishwasher.

“Where’s my ice cream?” you repeated, turning on your heel to face him. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“You finished it two days ago,” he said.

“No I fucking did not,” you said. “I was specifically saving it for today.”

“Right,” Tom said slowly, “but then two nights ago, you got drunk and said to me, I was going to save this, but I’m gonna eat it now because -and I quote- fuck self control.”

“And you let me?” you snapped.

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Like I’m going to argue with drunk (Y/N) about whether or not she should eat her ice cream.” You groaned dramatically, slammed the freezer door shut, and stormed off to your room.

The next day, you were having a saltier craving. You were sitting in bed, watching an episode of New Girl, when you suddenly started to crave nachos. You pushed yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, getting a plate from the cupboard and opening a bag of tortilla chips. When you opened the fridge to get some shredded cheese, you could feel your face grow hot in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you mumbled to yourself. “This is easily the most frustrating fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“What’s going on?” Tom asked from his spot on the couch.

“We don’t have any fucking shredded cheese!” you huffed. “How do we not have shredded fucking cheese?”

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled.

“You’re going to wish Jesus Christ was here if we don’t get some shredded cheese in this house soon.”

The next day, on your way home from work, you stopped at the store to pick up some panty liners and chocolate. When you got home, you set the bag on the counter, the sound of rustling plastic peaking Tom’s interest. “What’d you get from the store?” he asked.

“Chocolate,” you said.

“Chocolate?” Tom repeated.

“For me,” you emphasized.

“Don’t you know sharing is caring?” he asked.

“Right,” you said. “Well, when you develop a uterus, consider my stash your stash.”

Phase two.

The next day, like clockwork, you woke up with an aching back, a nauseous stomach, and an immediate need to use the bathroom. This was the first part of the phase where your lack of significant other really put a damper on things. You were crabby, and all you wanted was to be held and cared for.

And after six months of living together, Tom finally started to notice your shift in mood during phase two. It wasn’t that he didn’t know you were on your period, and he wasn’t oblivious to the cranky stage that came before this one. But now, he was starting to realize just how upset you got during your period. Yes, you were still cranky, but you were also just down in the dumps. He never saw you cry, but then again, he never really saw you. You rarely left your room, but when you did, you had a permanent frown etched on your face.

Tom didn’t have any sisters, and none of his relationships had ever been serious enough that he saw a girlfriend through her periods. So, when it came to handling a girl when she was menstruating, he took advice from Harrison. After all, he had a sister. And Harrison told Tom to steer clear of you and give you space. So for that week each month, that’s what Tom did. But you were Tom’s best friend, and he loved you. Seeing you so upset and sitting back like it wasn’t happening was too difficult.

So this time around, Tom decided to change up the routine. You hadn’t come out for your ice cream yet, so he went to the freezer, got out your unopened pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a spoon, and made his way to your room. He knocked on the door, waited for your words of permission, and walked in. You had all the lights off and the shades drawn, so you were only illuminated by the TV screen where New Girl was playing. “Hey,” you mumbled. “Is my TV too loud?”

“No,” Tom said with a shake of his head. “No, I, uh, I brought you your ice cream.”

“Oh,” you said, surprise in your voice. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he said, walking over to your bed to hand it to you. “Do you want some company or anything?” Your eyebrows raised.

“Seriously?” you asked. The tips of Tom’s ears turned pink.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bug you. I just thought-“

“No, no,” you said quickly. “I’m just surprised. You usually avoid me like the plague during this week.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “I guess I thought I was supposed to.”

“Let me guess,” you said with a grin. “Harrison?” Tom just smiled, so you patted the bed next to you, and he came to sit down, pulling the covers over his legs. You adjusted the hot pad on your back and relaxed again against the pillows. There was an awkward space between you and Tom, mostly because Tom didn’t want to overstep. It wasn’t that you guys didn’t cuddle, but he honest to god didn’t know how to approach you when you were on your period. What if he touched you and you just snapped?

But then he noticed how wiggly you were getting and opened his arms up. “Wanna cuddle?” he offered. You smiled gratefully and nodded, adjusting yourself again and cuddling up to his side.

“Sorry if my hot pad gets too warm,” you said.

“No worries,” he said, pulling you close to his side. “Whatever makes you feel better.” You nodded and nuzzled your cheek against his chest. Tom knew what kind of touches you liked best, so he moved his hand to the top of your head and started massaging your scalp and running your fingers through your hair. You hummed contently which made his heart feel warm.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you muttered. “I really needed this.”

“Of course, darling,” he whispered. “All you had to do was ask, and I’d be here.”

That was how you spent the rest of your free time during the week: cuddled up in bed with Tom watching New Girl. He made you dinner most days, and when he didn’t, it was because he ordered take out. 98-percent of you was thrilled, but then there were the other two. Being this close to Tom was fulfilling that desire you had for a significant other to be there for you, and it was messing with your head. You had been harboring a crush for Tom for as long as you had known him, but you had always been able to keep a lid on it. With him doing this for you, it was hard to stop yourself from bursting.

Phase three.

Your period was in the rear view mirror, but now came arguably the worst part. Because after your period, you were insanely horny. This time around, it was even worse. For that, you blamed Tom. And he may’ve been able to help during phase two, but no way were you going to ask him to help during phase three. No matter how badly you wanted to.

You got out of the shower and dried off, settling into clean sheets without putting on your pajamas. You kept the sheets off of you as you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled out your vibrator. It buzzed to life when you pressed the button, and you brought it straight to your nipples, running it over each of them until they were both hard. Then you trailed it down your stomach before pausing at your core. It was a rabbit, so it was made to stimulate your clit and your pussy at the same time. You were already clenching in anticipation as you teased yourself, letting the vibrator dance across your outer lips. Your thighs were slick with your juices, and you were able to slide the toy inside you with no problem.

Normally, you weren’t loud when you masturbated, but it took a lot to silence yourself. You often had your face buried in your pillow or your teeth biting harshly into your lower lip. That night, you were so far gone, keeping your moans quiet wasn’t exactly in the forefront of your mind. Your pussy was clenching the vibrator so tightly, and the vibrations were making your head hazy.

“Oh shit,” you breathed out. Every time you used the toy after a week of PMSing, you felt like you were in heaven. Sure, it was nothing compared to a real dick, but it sure did a damn good job at satisfying you.

You were sure Tom’s dick would be more satisfying though.

Then, you were picturing him railing into you, your face pressed against the mattress and his fingers leaving bruises on your hips. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about him while pleasuring yourself, but it was the first time his name left your lips while doing it.

“Tom,” you moaned. It wasn’t too loud, but you still forced your teeth to sink into your lower lip to stop it from happening again.

But the damage had already been done, because Tom walked right by your door when you said his name. He didn’t think anything of it, just assuming you heard him walking by and needed him for something. His light knock on the door caused your heart to race against your chest. You fumbled to get the covers over yourself but didn’t have time to turn off the vibrator before he came in. You gripped the sheets close to your chest and ignored the vibrator buzzing on the bed between your thighs. It was no longer inside you, but it was so close to your core that you were still feeling the shocks.

“What’s up?” you asked, praying you sounded chill.

“You called my name,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. You shook your head and frowned.

“No I didn’t,” you said. You knew you didn’t sound convincing. Tom furrowed his eyebrows but seemed amused.

“I swear you did,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again when he heard something. “Is your phone going off?”

“What?” you said, feeling panic settling in your chest. “No.”

“Are you sure?” he said, patting his own pants pockets. “I hear something vibrating.”

“Nope,” you said, then laughed awkwardly. “You must be hearing things, Holland.”

Tom could tell you were hiding something, and he liked how flustered you seemed. It was funny to him. He took a few steps closer to you, and your body froze. “What are you doing?” you asked, hoping he didn’t notice your voice shake.

He laughed. “What is up with you?”

“Nothing!” you said. “Can’t you just go?”

“You’re hiding something,” he said. “And I only know one way to get you to spill.”

Your eyes grew wide at what he was insinuating. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “No, Tom, don’t.” He ignored you and jumped on the bed, gripping your hips over the sheets and tickling you. “Tom!” you said, trying to wiggle away from him while still keeping your body covered.

And then, he felt it.

The vibrator buzzed against his knee causing him to stop his actions in their tracks. You were mortified. Tom didn’t look at you. Instead, he looked down at his knee as if trying to stare through the sheet to see the toy in question. You didn’t know what to say. You were busted. There was no way around it. How were you going to talk your way out of this one?

What you hadn’t expected was for Tom to grab your sheet and pull it off your body. You were frozen in shock as you watched him. His eyes were still fixated on the vibrator, now noticing that it was covered in your slick. When he finally looked at you, you realized his pupils were so blown that his eyes looked black. You were waiting for him to say something or even leave the room in disgust. Instead, Tom picked up your vibrator and turned it over in his hands, not at all seeming to mind that it was wet.

“Do you think of me a lot when you do this?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, and Tom surprised you by pressing the vibrator against your clit. A choked out moan passed your lips and your hips lifted. “Answer me,” he said.

“Yes,” you cried. “Yes, I do, Tom.” He pulled the vibrator away, and you whined at the feeling. He looked up at you again, and you felt embarrassed tears come to your eyes as you closed your legs and covered your chest with your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “Please, please just go, and I’ll never-“

“Open your legs.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to process what he said. You looked at him and saw he was staring at your body.

“What?” you said. Tom lifted his head to look in your eyes, and his expression softened.

“You tell me you don’t want my help,” he said, “and I’ll go. But-“ He cut himself off, needing to clear his throat to stop his voice from cracking. “-fuck, let me help you.”

Instead of answering him with words, you moved your hands from your chest and spread your legs apart. Tom wasted no time situating himself between your legs, your vibrator still in his hand. He licked his lips before bringing the toy to your cunt, pushing it inside you inch by inch. His mouth watered at how eager your pussy was to take the vibrator, and he imagined how tightly you’d squeeze his cock.

The smaller part of the vibrator pressed against your clit every time Tom pushed the toy inside you. He worked it slowly, and you were writhing on the bed above him. You both jumped when his finger hit one of the buttons, and the vibration setting changed. “How many different vibrations are there?” he asked you, not taking his eyes off your cunt.

“Uh, huh, 30,” you stuttered.

“30,” Tom repeated, like he was testing the number on his lips. “‘S a lot.”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“You use them all?” he asked.

“Not all the time,” you managed to say. He pulled the toy out of you until just the tip was inside. You whined and tried to lift your hips, but he put his arm across your stomach to stop you. He pressed the button again, trying out another vibration. He kept clicking until he stopped on one whose pattern and intensity intrigued him.

“You like this one?” he asked. He sounded genuinely curious, but you were too focused on the fact that Tom was holding a vibrator against your cunt to answer him in any significant way.

“I like them all,” you said. Your eyes were closed, so you couldn’t see the smirk that danced across Tom’s lips. He thrust the toy inside you causing you to cry out in pleasure. Every time he pulled it away and the small part left your clit, you wanted to beg him to put it back. He always did. His thrusts were slow but rough, pounding the toy inside you so it hit the right spots each time.

When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you might regret. Tom noticed.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he muttered, pulling the toy away from where you wanted it most. You forced your eyes open to see Tom was biting his lower lip. His pupils were still blown, but his expression was soft, almost vulnerable. How was he the vulnerable one right then?

You knew what he wanted, and when he pushed the toy back inside you, his name fell from your lips. With a few more thrusts, you were cumming. You grabbed Tom’s hand and forced him to keep the toy in place, the vibrations destroying your clit in the best way possible. Your moans were so wrecked, and the way you called Tom’s name like a prayer made his already hard dick throb in his sweats.

When he pulled the toy out of you, he noticed the way your pussy clenched around nothing. He shut the toy off, and you kept your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath. You were so focused on coming down from your high that you shrieked when you felt Tom’s mouth on your core. “Tommy,” you moaned, gripping his hair in your hands. He lapped up your cunt, savoring each drop of your cum like he wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. He could tell by how you wanted him to use the toy that you needed clit stimulation, so he gave you that. He rolled your clit with his tongue, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure. Your thighs started squeezing his head, but he held them apart, growling in warning against your cunt. You cried out, begging him for something you couldn’t quite word. Whatever it was, he somehow knew, because he had you cumming again in just the right number of minutes. He let you savor it; he didn’t rush it.

You looked down at him when he pulled away, and you noticed his lips were coated in your orgasm. You smiled in embarrassment as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He surprised you when he started kissing up your body. His lips stopped at your jaw, and he pulled back to look in your eyes. You stared at each other for a few moments before you both moved a fraction closer to each other to close the space between you in a kiss. It wasn’t as desperate and needy as you expected it to be, and you hoped and prayed that this meant something to Tom like it did to you. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours. “You say the word and I’m done,” he said. “No pressure. No obligation. No-“

You cut him off. “Fuck me, Tom.” The corner of his lip raised into his cheeky smirk, and he kissed you again. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised by the affectionate action, but you loved it. You kissed him back, wrapping your legs around his waist and rubbing your core against the bulge in his pants. You gripped his t-shirt in your fists and tugged it up his body until he pulled away and yanked it over his head, tossing it to the side. He sat back on his heels and tugged his sweats and boxers down at the same time, moving around to take them off completely. His dick was even better than you imagined it might be. He was the perfect length, and he was thick, the tip red and already leaking precum.

“Shit,” Tom muttered. “Do you have a condom?”

You sighed. “No.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ve got some in my room.”

“Mm, okay,” you hummed, pressing your thighs together. “Hurry back.” You moved your hand slowly down your stomach, then traced up and down your thighs. You swore you’d never seen someone move as quickly as Tom did then, jumping off your bed and rushing out the door. When he came back, he already had the condom packet open, which made you giggle. He grinned and got back on the bed, rolling the condom on his length with a satisfied sigh. You thought he would push into you right away, but instead, he brought his lips down to yours again. He didn’t quite let them press together, just hovered over your lips before kissing across your cheek and to your ear.

“Tell me, love,” he said. “What do you think about when you think of me?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he lined himself up, letting the tip of his cock brush against your clit. “Ah, fuck,” you breathed out. “Hard and fast. Choking me. Pulling my hair. Fuck-” Tom thrust into you without warning, giving you no time to adjust before pounding into you. He watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as your mouth gaped open. Your head almost hit the headboard with the force he was fucking you, and the room was full of your moans and slapping skin.

Tom surprised you when he pulled out of you so he could turn you over and slam into you from behind. He pulled you up by your hair so your back was arched, and you cried out in pleasure. “Yes,” you screamed. “Just like that, Tom. Fuck!” He pulled you up even more so your back was flush to his chest, and he moved his hand from your hair to your throat.

Again, better than you imagined.

He cut off your airflow just enough to make your head feel hazy. “You like that?” he muttered in your ear. “Fuck, you’re squeezing my cock so tight, you must love it.”

“Tom,” you gasped out. 

“You gonna cum for me, darling?” he asked. You nodded as much as you could, and Tom pressed a little tighter against your neck. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.” You moaned, your voice cracking as you did so. “Fuck, yes,” Tom said as you milked his cock. “‘M gonna cum. Oh fuck.” With a few more thrusts, Tom spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering as he finished. He pulled out of you as you collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. You laid in bed, your eyes closed, as Tom fell beside you. He took off the condom and tied it off before throwing it in the trash beside your bed. You were both breathing heavily, and neither of you knew what to say or who should speak first.

“Wow,” you finally said.

Tom chuckled. “Yeah. Wow.” You turned your head to look at him, and he did the same. Tom licked his lips and darted his eyes between yours. “So, what, um-” He hesitated. “What do we do now?” You swallowed thickly and stared up at the ceiling again. This was it. This was when you had to lie and say it was just sex, because you were sure that was what he would want.

Tom seemed to read your mind. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to say this,” he said, “but I really like you, (Y/N).” You looked at him again and saw how small and nervous his smile was. “You’re my best friend, but, but I’ve felt more than best friend feelings for you for a long time now.” You turned on your side and faced him.

“Really?” you asked, reaching over to stroke his cheek with the back of your hand.

He chuckled and mirrored your position. “Yeah, love. Really.” You smiled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you were still smiling.

“I feel the same,” you said. He smiled and turned you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you again. He peppered kisses all over your face until you were a giggling mess under him. “You’re so weird,” you said. “How can you go from choking me to this in a matter of minutes?” Tom’s expression shifted a bit, and he brushed his fingers lightly across your neck.

“That was okay?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “More than okay.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him close to you again. “Just so you’re prepared, my sex drive after shark week is always crazy high. And choking-” You brushed your lips across his. “-that’s just the beginning of what I’m into.”

----- ----- ----- -----

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[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || Angsty Proposal  [Request]

Seokjin:

Staring down at the dress you were wearing and questioned yourself again, Jin had asked you out to dinner and you agreed because he was your boyfriend of six years but you were getting annoyed with him he'd been making proposal jokes for the last couple of months and it was really starting to get to you. At first, they were funny and you went along with them but now it was all of the time and you were getting annoyed, you loved Jin more than words or songs could ever express but it was starting to make you think he wasn't taking your relationship seriously.

"You okay?" He asked looking up at you, you nodded and sipped from the wine glass that was in front of you and then you noticed how nervous Jin seemed to look. He was shaking a little and even sweating,

"You okay?!" You asked back and he nodded before ordering the same thing you'd order on your first date there. You were both at the restaurant where he'd taken you for your first date and it felt special, though there was still that nagging in the back of your head that this was just another joke for him.

"Just a little nervous," You nodded for him to continue and you noticed him reaching into his pocket and it was like something snapped inside of you.

"Listen Jin if this is another one of those jokes I can't take it anymore." You whispered and he froze in place looking at you and noticing that you were tearing up, you looked around.

"And in public, you're going to joke about marrying me in public. It proves you really don't care about me at all." You whimpered throwing the napkin down onto the table and walking out of the restaurant, ignoring the looks you were getting from other couples around.

"Y/n, Y/n wait." He called out trying to catch up to you in the street, you wish you'd driven that night but you didn't.

"Leave me alone Jin, please." He heard your voice crack and when he turned you around he noticed the tears that were on the verge of crying and you shook your head at him.

"I can't take it anymore. Am I that big of a joke to think about marrying!? Do you laugh about it with the boys and get some sick kick out of it? Do I mean nothing to you?!" You finally broke down letting every emotion flow from you and out to him and he looked down at his hands feeling guilty for everything he had been doing to you. It was supposed to be a joke so it would be surprising to you,

"I can't do this anymore Jin, I won't do it anymore. If you don't want to marry me tell me so I can stop myself falling for you." When he didn't answer you right away you left him in the street and headed home to your shared apartment.

(X)

Jin beat you home since he was the one that drove home and he stared at the ring box that had been in his pocket the entire time, he was going to get on one knee for you that night to stop the jokes but now he thought you would think it was another joke. He took the ring out of the box and smiled at it, it would have been perfect for you and he began wondering if it was too late. The door clicked open so he dropped down onto one knee so he would be right in the way when you walked in,

"Jin, please. I can't. You're only doing this because I've kicked off." He pulled you to kneel in front of him,

"No, I was going to propose tonight...It was a stupid idea, it was Jungkook's idea, but I was just supposed to make you think I wasn't interested in the idea of marriage until I surprised you." He held the ring in front of your face,

"I have the perfect size because I checked while you were sleeping." You swallowed the lump in your throat and he cleared his throat,

"Will you, Y/N Y/L/N marry me?" You nodded and he slipped the ring onto your ring finger looking at you before kissing you passionately, his arms wrapped around your waist so he could hold you close to him.

"I'm sorry I was an idiot," You shook your head wiping the tears away from your cheeks and then away from his cheeks,

"We can blame it all on Jungkook." You promised, leaning down and kissing him once again.

Yoongi:

You had been so busy with work all week that you hadn't had time to do the usual cleaning you always did around the shared house so the house you shared with your boyfriend was a little messier than it was supposed to be but nothing terrible so you didn't see why Yoongi was making a bigger deal about it than it needed to be.

"It's fucking disgusting!" He yelled out to you and you sighed as you piled the washing into the washing basket and carried it down the stairs, you didn't shout back at him or try to fight him back on it. You were loading up the washing machine when he started ranting about the dishwasher not being emptied since that morning and then he yelled,

"You don't do anything else so why is the house such a tip!?" All you could see was red from that point.

"Yoongi! I work a full-time job as well you know!" You were losing your mind, he seemed to think that he was the only one in the house that worked all of the time but you had your own job to pay attention to.

"You don't have to work." You scoffed at him rolling your eyes and starting the washing machine up,

"So I can stay at home and be your little housewife?" You questioned as you began to empty the dishwasher and he shook his head rubbing his temples,

"That's not what I said Y/n, I'm just sick of coming home to a gross house."

"You know there's nothing stopping you from cleaning." You mumbled thinking he wouldn't hear you but he did and it started the usual fight about how his job was more important and he was working for a big record company.

"We can't keep having this fight." He grumbled at you and you shook your head,

"And yet here we are! Fighting about it again, I'm done." You said throwing a plate down into the sink and not meaning for it to smash but it did.

"Y/n!" He screamed but you didn't care about the broken plate you took your car keys and walked out of the house ignoring his pleas for you to stay there but you couldn't. You couldn't sit there and let him talk to you like that anymore so you drove off leaving him in the house alone.

"Shit." He grumbled as he walked up to the bedroom to find his phone and call you, he grabbed it from his bedside table dialled your number while it was ringing he opened the small drawer and spotted the box inside. It was the ring he was planning on proposing to you with and he stared at it while he left a voicemail for you.

"It's me, come back please." He begged before hanging up and staring at the ring, tears welling up in his eyes as he thought about losing you forever, he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life.

(X)

The doorbell was ringing and you groaned getting up to answer it, you were hiding out in Hoseok's apartment and you had been for the last week.

"Hello-" You stopped when you saw Yoongi down on one knee in front of the door, he was dressed in a suit and tie with a ring box in his hand.

"What are you doing?!" You panicked thinking someone could see him but he stared up at you nervously, he was more nervous about this than he was about performing anywhere.

"I've been planning on asking you to marry me for a while and I think it's the perfect time to do it now-"

"Yoongi, are you insane? We haven't spoken in over a week because you-"

"Do you love me?" He questioned staring up at you with tears in his eyes, of course, you did.

"Yes. More than I could ever express."

"Then marry me," He opened the box and you didn't even need to look at the ring to decide that you were going to say yes, the boy could propose to you with a sweetie ring and you would say yes as long as he would be yours.

Hoseok:

Hoseok and you had hardly seen each other in over a month you'd both been busy with your lives but you still made time for one another and besides, you slept next to each other at night and it was enough while you were busy or you thought it was until that night. He came in from work stressed about learning a new dance routine last minute and he woke you up,

"Why are you yelling at 2 am?" You groaned sitting up in the bed and looking at him, he stared at you and he didn't know what came over him. Seeing you sitting there just annoyed him and he started yelling about things he didn't care about or mean,

"Why are you even here?! Huh?! Is it because you want my money, is that the only reason you stay?!" It's what management and newspapers were filling his head with and he guessed it was because of them that the words were flowing from him. He was talking so fast that you thought he was rapping at first,

"Hobi, what are you talking about?" You questioned finally waking up properly and taking in everything he was saying to you,

"You think I'm here for the money? Would someone who's here just for the money spend all their time working for their own money? Or spend all their time waiting for their boyfriend to come home so they can see him even if it's just for two minutes?!" You clapped back with and he continued to rant about how he knew it was only for the money because everyone else thought that too,

"You just follow along with everyone else?" He nodded and you scoffed getting up from the bed and began packing an overnight bag full of clothes, his anger stopped as soon as he heard you sniffle and he realised everything he had been saying to you.

"Y/n wait, I didn't mean it-" You stopped him by walking out of the bedroom and out of the front door without another word,

"Y/n?!" He screamed out the window but you were already halfway down the street so he called all of the boys to let him know if you showed up and their places. He threw his phone down onto the bed and it fell hitting the bedside table and knocking it over, the content spilt onto the floor and he groaned going over to it and picking everything up. Inside he found the ring that belonged to his mum, she'd given it to him when she realised how strong your bond was together and he sighed leaning back against the bed as he stared into the diamond wondering why he was being such an idiot towards you.

(X)

"Y/n just hear me out." You tried to shut the motel door on him but he squeezed his way inside and stood in front of you holding something in his hand.

"You don't believe I'm with you for you, why should I listen to you?" He shook his head trying to hold your hands but you just let them slip out of his grasp not wanting to have any more fights you were sick of fighting about the same thing.

"Listen to me." He begged locking eyes with you and seeing how much you were crying about this and he took the ring from his hand,

"My mum gave me this when she met you for the second time, she knew just how much you loved me after meeting you twice." You swallowed the lump that was in your throat and he lowered himself down onto one knee,

"I was a fucking idiot for listening to everyone else, I've just been stressed and I know it's no excuse." He continued to rant on for two minutes while you frowned at him wondering where this conversation was going,

"I'm trying to ask you to marry me." He said, as though he could read your mind and you giggled nodding at him.

"I promise never to start stupid fights over things I know aren't true." You bent down kissing him as he slid the ring onto your finger,

"Let's go home." You shook your head playing with the strings of his hoodie,

"I paid for the hotel room...we could always just use it." He smirked knowing what you meant and he began kissing you passionately.

Namjoon:

It was supposed to be a nice week for you both to be alone together but instead, Jungkook had decided to tag along with you both, it was your idea since he'd had such a rough breakup you had no idea what Namjoon was planning that week.

"Why did you have to invite him?" You looked up at Namjoon who was pissed off, he'd been acting like a child all week since Jungkook had come along and you had no idea why.

"Namjoon, he was having a hard time and he's one of our best friends." You tried to defend him but he wasn't having any of it, you walked back into the cabin leaving Jungkook out on the beachfront. Namjoon had rented out a private beach hut for you and had been planning on proposing but since Jungkook was there he couldn't do it.

"It was supposed to be a peaceful week between us." You looked at him not believing he was acting so childish over Jungkook coming with you both.

"You're practically babying him! Do you love him more than me is that it? You couldn't stand to be alone with me so you brought Jungkook along?" You stared at Namjoon like he was a new person because that was how he was acting. You'd never heard him speak or act this way before and it was starting to annoy you. He knew you were close wit Jungook since he was the reason you met Namjoon in the first place but now Namjoon was acting like a teenager.

"Namjoon do you even hear yourself? I love you, Jungkook is just having a hard time and I thought he could use a break." By now Jungkook had heard what was happening and came to investigate,

"You're sleeping together aren't you?!" You stared at Namjoon and shook you're head.

"Talk to me when my Namjoon is back." You scoffed pushing past him and going into the main bedroom in the cabin and shutting yourself inside. You laid down on the bed and started to cry while Namjoon reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring.

"Dude, what the fuck?" He looked up to see Jungkook standing there and he knew what he had said was wrong, he knew you weren't cheating on him he was just scared because you'd brought him along.

"I was going to ask her to marry me this week and I just-"

"Got annoyed because I was here?" He nodded and Jungkook nodded in understanding

(X)

A few hours later you emerged from the room to find seashells around the floor leading up to outside of the hut, you followed them to find tea lights in the shape of a heart on the ground and Namjoon kneeling down on one knee in the sand staring up at you.

"Joonie?" You questioned walking out to him, he opened up a box and began talking to you from the heart,

"I know I've been acting like a child all week and I haven't been the best of friends but I hope you can forgive me. I had this week planned out for us both so I could drop hints about marrying you and I saw Jungkook with us and I got jealous and annoyed...I love you y/n and I want to spend the rest of my life with you...Please don't let what happened this week cloud your judgement." You began crying and rushed over to him sitting on your knees in front of him and nodding quickly.

"Of course I'll marry you Joonie." You whimpered letting the tears fall from your cheeks as he crashed his lips onto yours, Jungkook came out from inside the cabin holding his camera.

"My ride is here, I got the footage." Namjoon thanked him for capturing the romantic moment between you both and he left leaving you and Namjoon alone for the first time all week.

Jimin:

Earlier in the week you'd seen Jimin with another woman and you tried not to think anything about it but it was starting to get to you, you saw her as prettier than you and better for Jimin in all the ways you didn't think you were.

"Jimin, do you want to go out tonight?" You asked your boyfriend that night. You were sitting on the sofa in your living room with him and he was on his phone doing whatever it was he was doing, it was his week off work and so far he'd been spending all of his time out at the ''dorms'' and not with you.

"I can't, I'm with Jungkook tonight." You knew it was a lie because you'd called around to all of the boys to make sure you could have him to yourself for the night, you'd missed him a lot.

"You're lying to me." You whispered and he frowned looking away from his phone. He stared at you and noticed that your eyes were filled with tears,

"Y/n?"

"Who is she?" You questioned referring to the girl you'd seen him with earlier in the week and he shook his head clearly not following along with whatever you were talking about.

"Who is who?" You shook your head letting the tears fall down,

"Don't lie to me anymore Jimin, I know you've been seeing another girl...So what is it about her? Is she better in bed? Is she prettier?" He shook his head not following along with you until you describe the designer to him and his face fell,

"So you are sleeping with her?" You didn't give him time to answer, you just got up from the sofa and rushed to the bedroom slamming and locking the door before he could come after you.

"It's not like that!" He called as he banged on the door, he knew exactly who you were talking about and he wasn't cheating on you. He would never cheat on you,

"Oh really? You're just sleeping with one another behind your girlfriends back?!" He heard your voice crack and he groaned banging on the door begging you to open it but you were too busy packing to think about it.

"Y/n! Let me explain!" He yelled but you continued to pack your bag ignoring him and his pleading, you rushed off to the en-suite to grab everything you would need.

(X)

The banging stopped so you assumed he had walked away and given up on trying to convince you that you were wrong but when you opened the door he was down on one knee holding open an empty box,

"What are you-"

"I'm not sleeping with her, she's helping me design the perfect engagement ring for you." You frowned and he stood up explaining everything to you,

"She's a designer, a good one and she's trying to help me with the perfect ring for you." You felt a wave of guilt wash over you as you realised he wasn't cheating at all and he was being one of the best boyfriends anyone could ever ask for,

"Jimin I-"

"I still want to marry you and I want you to marry me." You stared at him with a frown on your face,

"Even after I just accused you of-"

"I want to be with you and only you for the rest of my life Y/n." You kissed him quickly and he smirked wrapping his arms around you.

"Is that a yes?" You nodded and he threw the empty box behind you as he picked you up and carried you over to the bed.

Taehyung:

Taehyung had been stressed out all week, he'd been planning one of the best proposals he could think of and it was perfect for you both and he was ready to ask you but then he was called into work at the last minute and he didn't have time to take you out anymore.

"Tae?" You questioned when you walked into the studio that night, you were drenched in water since it was raining and he turned around to see you and he groaned, he'd forgotten to tell you not to go and meet him out there and now you were drenched in rain.

"You left me out there." You pouted but he ignored you and went back to work, this was already late as it was and he didn't want to get into any more trouble. You were just annoyed that he'd stood you up in the middle of the park and it had started raining, you didn't take your car because he was supposed to be going to pick you up. As soon as it started raining you called the boys to find out where he was, you weren't even annoyed that he was at work because you understood his lifestyle.

"Tae?" You questioned when he didn't answer you and he rubbed his temples stressed out about work and now that you were going on and on to him while he was just trying to concentrate and get everything that needed to be done done. When you called out his name again he snapped and he started yelling things out that he didn't even mean, he just needed you out of the room so you would stop distracting him.

"Fucking back off! I'm fucking busy I don't have time for this shit, you're so fucking annoying Y/n!" You felt your heart lurch as the words left his mouth and as soon as he saw the look on your face,

"Wait, Y/n. No, it's not that-" You ran out of the studio before he could even talk to you about it and you rushed back out of the building to find a taxi to take you home.

(X)

He walked into the apartment to find you packing.

"Y/n, stop it." He begged unpacking everything you'd already packed and you moved away from him going into the bathroom to get everything that was yours in there.

"Y/n, listen to me please." You began packing once again until he took the bag and threw it across the room and you just stared at him in silence waiting for him to explain himself when he grabbed your hands and stared at you,

"You know I don't find you annoying, I was just stressed." You stayed silent and he continued to rant about how stressed he was and that he really didn't mean anything he had said to you. He just wanted you to go away while he worked,

"You told me I annoy you." You whispered and he wiped the tear away that was rolling down your cheek,

"If I found you annoying would I be planning on marrying you?" You frowned and he pulled out a ring box from his jacket pocket opening it and showing you the ring,

"The original plan for tonight was to go out to where we first met and I was going to propose there." Now the park was starting to make sense, you'd met him just by the Han River and you stared at him,

"I was going to propose there and then we were going to go to the restaurant I took you to and have a meal, then I got called in and I lost it. I know it doesn't make up for anything but I'm sorry." He was expecting you to still walk out on him but you just grabbed his face and began kissing him,

"Of course I'll marry you." You whispered before kissing him once again.

Jungkook:

You were out to dinner with Jungkook and some work friends to celebrate your recent promotion in the office and your boss had come along to celebrate with you all.

"I'm so lucky to have her on my time, she's always giving 110%!" He said giving out a speech, making you blush at his words but Jungkook was frowning while he listened to him.

"She's always there when I need her and she's always willing to do anything to make sure I'm happy." Jungkook's grip on his wine glass tightened and you frowned looking from his hands up to his face to see he was reddening with every passing second. Once the speech was over you took Jungkook out to get some fresh air,

"Baby what's wrong?" You questioned reaching out to touch his cheek but he pushed your hand away from him and starting laughing,

"Jungkook?" He shook his head at you and then began mumbling something you couldn't hear,

"I can't hear you-"

"How long have you been sleeping with him then!? Huh?! How long did you have to sleep with him to get the promotion?!" You stared at Jungkook with your eyebrow raised,

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's the only explanation for the promotion isn't it?" You stared at him and shook your head,

"I couldn't get a promotion because Hmm, I don't know? I'm good at my job?" He shook his head at you and continued to accuse you of cheating on him with your boss and you were starting to get annoyed by it.

"So how long?!"

"Never! He's fucking gay, you idiot!" You cried out shaking your head at him while trying not to cry in the middle of the street,

"You're such a cock." You whimpered wiping your eyes, he tried to step forward but you moved away from him.

"Fuck off. I'm going home, don't follow me." You warned him and he watched you rushing off to find a taxi home instead of going with him.

(X)

Jungkook walked into the house to find your shoes at the bottom of the stairs so there was still hope about you being in the house, he walked into the bedroom and found a note on the bed telling him never to try and find you and he threw his phone against the wall harshly.

"FUCK!" You flinched from inside the bathroom not wanting to come out since he thought you'd already left. Jungkook walked around the room to find what he was looking for and found the ring in the bottom drawer and stared at it. His phone started ringing and he answered it,

"Y/n?! If that's you just come- Oh...No Jin. Yeah, I'll let him know." You heard shuffling before Jungkook began speaking again,

"I accused her of cheating on me. Fuck. Of course, I didn't fucking mean it Jin. I've just been stressed with planning the perfect proposal." Your brain froze as soon as you heard the words leave his lips and you looked through the crack in the door to see him sitting there holding a ring.

"I didn't mean any of it, I was just stressed and then her boss was talking about how much of a great person she is and I got jealous." You walked out of the bathroom to look at him and he groaned hanging up the phone, he turned around and screamed once he saw you standing there.

"You were going to propose?" You questioned and he nodded holding the ring out for you to admire,

"I've been planning it for weeks, I was going to make sure you came home to a bubble bath, rose petals but instead I'm sitting here and begging you to forgive me and marry me." You stared down at him in the eyes and could tell he was sincere about what he had been saying,

"I love you Jungkook but I will never be spoken to like that again, promise?" He nodded and you nodded dropping down in front of him and kissing him.

tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @chimchims-stories-and-tales @lyoongx @rjsmochii @btsiguess-kpop @callingmyangel @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c​

[princess-of-riviaa]

Medicine

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: You help Walter relax, in more ways than one.

Warning(s): teasing, nipple play, making love

Word Count: 3,058

The plates clatter as you load them into the dishwasher and start the cleaning cycle. You toss a glance over to the living room as you dry off your hands and catch Walter sitting on the couch, hovering over something on the coffee table. You’re not a gambler, but you’d bet good money as to what he’s doing: looking at another file. Walter Marshall doesn’t have an off switch. It’s one of the things you love about him, his hyper-fixations. But you don’t exactly love it when he becomes obsessed over a case and it results in him spending several sleepless nights in a row digging into every criminal file and clue he can get his hands on.

“Someone’s bad at listening,” you joke as you shut off the kitchen light and move over to the couch. He doesn’t look up at you, too lost in his work to even notice that you’re by his side. You hold out your hand. “Give me.”

He finally looks up at you, a look of reluctance in his eyes.

You don’t cave, instead opting to stare right back at him, daring him to defy you. “You know our deal. No work on the weekends.”

“Love--” he begins, but you snatch the folder from him before he can finish.

You’re careful as you close the folder and set it on his desk; Walter doesn’t care about anything the way he cares about the order of his desk. If even one thing is out of place, if one page in one packet has the slightest crease in it, he goes berserk. That’s the only reason you’re mindful of how you deal with the paperwork.

Your feet pad across the wood tile as you move back to the couch and curl up beside him. One hand on his shoulder tells you how stressed he is; you can feel the knots in his muscles.

“Oh, baby,” you sigh.

“I’m fine,” he insists, and maybe if you hadn’t been with him long enough to know all of his tells, maybe you would believe him. But you watch him as he forgets to blink for a second--his strongest tell when he’s lying.

So you get up and move around the couch until you have a good angle to start rubbing his shoulders.

“Love, I’m really--oh,” he begins to argue, then groans as your hands begin to knead out the stress in his muscles. The sound makes you pause as heat shoots straight to your core. I’ll be bouncing on his cock before the night is over, you assure yourself, taming your need for a moment longer. But right now he needs me to help him in a different way.

As you rub away at his shoulders, you remember all the times you used to fuck all the stress out of him, back when you were just distant friends who hooked up and not a couple that loved each other more than anything. You’d had standards before you met him. You weren’t the type of woman to have casual hookups with someone. And you definitely didn’t do friends-with-benefits. But one look at that dark, mysterious stranger in a bar and you were done for. You didn’t care if you never learned his name--you’d wanted him to fuck you right then and there. No man had ever made you feel like that. And when he was with you, when was inside of you, claiming your body as his--no man had ever made you feel as sexy as he did. It was addicting. And so you put up with weeks and months of silence for nothing more than those rare nights when you got him to yourself again and he made you feel like the only woman in the world. That high you felt when you were with him--there was nothing else like it. You’d only ever experienced that feeling around him, your stranger who visited in the night.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that you loved him. And it didn’t take long for that to ruin things. He’d been fucking into you from behind one night, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust, and you’d already cum so many times that your body was shaking and weak. Your mind was spinning as he slammed into you. As you came for the--what? fifth time? sixth?--that night, it wasn’t his name that you screamed out like you normally did when you orgasmed, but rather those three words that changed everything. You’d both agreed to keep whatever this was between you strictly physical. And up until that point, you’d been able to. But now that the truth was out, you were terrified of how he’d react. And yet, surprisingly, he took it well. Well enough that he came inside of you as you screamed those words.

Walter started coming over a lot more after that. You liked having his company, even if most nights he crawled into bed just a few hours before dawn. He worked so much that even moving in together didn’t change the frequency of your sex life. Ninety percent of the time, he was at the office or hunting down the latest bad guy. And when he was home, he was either memorizing his case files or passed out from exhaustion. Still, you didn’t mind. Having him around was enough. You liked keeping an eye on him; he wasn’t good at taking care of himself, so he needed you for that. But on the nights when both of you had enough energy and time, he’d claim your body as his own. He somehow made every time feel as exhilarating as the first time, yet your bodies flowed together so smoothly that it felt like you’d been together all your lives.

“Take off your shirt,” you order now, pulling your hands away from the big hunk of muscle in front of you. “I can go deeper without the clothes.”

He throws you a look over his shoulder. You know exactly what that smirk means.

You roll your eyes and hit him playfully. “Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

Walter complies, tossing his sweater on the couch. You take in a minute to admire the glorious muscles of his back. Working out is one of the few activities that he indulges in to keep him sane. He spends hours upon hours in the gym after particularly hard cases. Looking at his body, you’d think all he ever dealt with were hard cases.  Still, you didn’t complain. You like that he takes care of his body--and the view isn’t bad at all.

You run your hands down his back, looking so small against his large frame. Now that his shirt is gone you can see that it’s not just his shoulders that were tense; you can feel the knots in the muscles of his back as you run your hands down his skin. “Maybe you should lie down. It looks like I’m going to have to work on more than just your shoulders.”

“Y/N--” he protests.

You run your fingers through his hair and his entire body goes limp. You swear, this man is a dog in disguise, just waiting to get a scratch behind the ear. “Let me take care of you, Walt.”

He huffs, though it’s half-hearted. His body is too relaxed while you play with his curls to muster up any real annoyance. “Fine.” Reluctantly, he stands.

You frown. “Where are you going?”

“The couch is too small for me to sprawl out on it,” he explains as he makes his way to the bedroom.

You follow after him. “Then what’s the point of having a couch?”

He sprawls out on the bed, lying on his stomach. “It’s for you. And Faye.”

Faye--the only girl he loves more than you. You love your boyfriend’s relationship with his daughter, love how protective he is of her and how he loves her with everything in him. She’s currently at her mom’s, like she always is. Walter rarely lets her stay over at his place, usually because he’s too busy to take her to and from school, but mostly because he wants to protect her from the horrors of his life.

You move to the bed and straddle his hips, resting comfortably on his glutes. That’s another thing you love about his body--his ass. Though it does make you jealous that his is bigger than yours.

Your hands dig into his muscles of his shoulders and back, working away at the knots. He has a few scars on his back, but other than that his skin is smooth. You lean down to kiss wherever your hands touch and take a moment to breathe in the scent of him. Every part of him is addicting--his smell, his taste, his touch... You’ll never get enough, not even if you’re with him until the day you die.

Somehow he ends up on his back with you straddling his waist. You run your fingers through the dark curls on his broad chest as his hands come to rest on your hips. You’ve got nice curves and your hips jut out wide, but with his hands on you, you look tiny. The look he gives you is a mix of complete adoration and fiery lust. You know exactly what he wants. It’s the same thing you’ve been trying to hold back from all night. But you love teasing him as much as you love finally giving in to your carnal desires, so you hold off a bit longer.

You run your hands up and down his chest, massaging the muscles there. He closes his eyes and basks in the relief you’re providing him. You move onto his arms, focusing on one at a time. Your fingers roll out the knots in his biceps and triceps before you lay a soft, loving kiss on the insides of each arm. You move onto his hands next. Running your thumb against his palm earns you a soft sigh before you move onto his fingers. His eyes open to watch you pull the tension out of his joints. Lust is still turning his soft blue eyes dark, so you give him an innocent smile before bringing his hand to your mouth. You kiss the tip of each finger before inserting two inside your mouth and sucking. You go all in, closing your eyes and humming as your tongue swirls around his digits. And you may or may not be casually circling your hips at the same time, rubbing your clothed core against his growing erection.

“You’re clearly enjoying yourself,” you giggle. Your smile says innocent but your eyes drip with lust.

He lets out a faint growl, clearly not in the mood to be teased tonight. The sound is quiet enough that you know it’s just a warning; but the next time he does it, you won’t be getting off easy.

So you give him a bashful look and move down his body, turning your attention to his legs. You don’t take as long as you should to massage his calves and thighs; your desire is pooling in your stomach with each passing second. You want him inside of you--need him inside of you--and your restraint is quickly diminishing. Once you’ve finished with both legs, you accidentally brush your fingers against his hard-on. He’s so aroused already that the heat of his skin burns through his clothes and onto your hands. The feeling of his erection in your hand, and the heat making him burn under your touch, is too much. You release a small moan--and this time it is on accident.

Before you can blink you’re on your back. Walter hovers over you, his face inches from yours, and your unsteady breaths mix together in a dance of desire. He has your wrists pinned on either side of your head and there’s a look in his eyes that tells you, you should be scared--this man is capable of destroying someone with his bare hands and will do it if he must--but that just sends a thrilled spark through you, making you want him even more. He can do anything he wants to you, to your body, to your mind--and god, do you want him to.

“Walter...” you sigh, your tone pleading when he doesn’t move to kiss you.

Still, his eyes just look into yours, making your body burn until you can’t fucking breathe. The look he gives you is so intense that you swear you can hear his thoughts: I want to devour you. I want to fuck you until the sun rises, until your voice is hoarse from begging me to stop, until you can’t walk for a whole week.

“Please, Walt,” you whine. You want all of the same things he does. You want him to bury himself inside of you until you can feel him even when he’s not there.

He inches his mouth closer to yours, so close that you can taste him. Your eyes fall shut to savor the taste of his lips on yours--but the touch never comes. Instead, he ghosts his mouth over the skin of your neck. You open your eyes to see him moving down your body, leaving the occasional kiss on your chest and stomach. His eyes jump to yours and he smirks--the teased has become the teaser.

“Walter,” you huff. Your impatience is clear, but that won’t sway him. He can take the entire night just teasing you. He’s actually done that a few times, though he always rewarded you with multiple orgasms the next day. But you can’t withstand hours of torture tonight, not when it’s been so long since he’s fucked you.

He inches your shirt up and kisses your skin. His touch is so soft that it’s ticklish. You writhe underneath him and he chuckles. He’s slow to undress you, knowing you’re growing more on edge with each passing second. Your body is burning impossibly hot by the time you’re completely bare for him. His clothes, like yours, are strewn all over the floor. Even though he’s got both of you naked now, he still doesn’t do anything but leave the occasional kiss on your skin.

“Walter Marshall, if you don’t fuck me I--” you begin, then gasp when you feel his mouth clasp around your left nipple. Your eyes roll back in your head as his touch registers in every inch of your body. Only now do you realize how wet you are from all his teasing foreplay. You have no doubt that the sheets are soaked underneath you; the inside of your thighs are drenched.

His mouth is soft around your nipple, sucking gently and slowly increasing in pressure. Your bud grows hard in his mouth and he clamps his teeth down on it, biting you with just the right amount of force to make your body shake in both pain and pleasure. His hand twists and pulls at your other nipple and suddenly you can’t think, you can’t form words--all you know is his mouth on you and the heat burning you alive. Your breathing turns into high-pitched moans as he moves to your other nipple, giving it the same amount of attention. Your walls clench as he sucks at your breasts, your occasional whimpers of, “harder, harder” encouraging him to mark you deeper.

Walter’s hand snakes down your body until he reaches your pussy, completely soaked for him. All it takes is one brush of his fingers against your clit and you fall apart underneath him. The world stops as you toss your head back and hold onto the bedsheets for dear life. Your orgasm makes your head spin and the dizziness doesn’t stop even once you come down from it.

“Still want to give me attitude, love?” Walter asks, his breath tickling the skin on your chest.

You’re too wound up to reply, but you tug on his neck and bring him up to kiss you. He reacts to your deep kiss by sliding a hand down your thigh and wrapping it around his waist. His cock presses right against your pussy and you moan as your body leans into him, craving more friction and heat. You whimper when he enters you; his cock stretches you out every time you fuck, like it’s the first time he’s doing it when it’s actually the hundredth. But your whimpers quickly turn to sighs and moans of pleasure. Your breathing is shaky as he moves inside of you slowly. His eyes are locked on yours. There’s so much emotion in them--so much love, so much desire, so much gratitude--that it makes you tear up. He kisses you as he increases his movements. You clutch his curls in your fingers and are rewarded with a twitch of his cock deep inside of you; he goes absolutely feral when you tug on his hair.

Walter knows how to fuck you. He’s good at it--so good that some days you’ll literally beg him to fuck you hard and fast, marking your body up in the process. But there’s something about being with him like this, your bodies knitted so tightly together that you become one person, that is... different. Not necessarily better, not always--sometimes you just need it rough--but it connects you to him in a way that nothing else can. When he makes love to you, you know he belongs to you. And he knows you belong to him. There’s not an inch of doubt about that when you’re tangled up like this. And that in itself is enough to bring you to orgasm, a high so mind-blowing that it makes you sob. He cums with his head buried in your neck, breathing his grunts and moans into your skin.

You two stay tangled up for several minutes after, just memorizing the feeling of the other’s body.

“I love you, Y/N,” he says against your mouth, seconds before kissing you so deeply you feel it in your toes.

You’re breathless when he pulls away from you. “I love you too, Walter Marshall.”

***

Taglist:

@agniavateira​ @hnryycvll​ @littlefreya​ @celestial-vomit​ @lestersglitterglue​ @thiccgeralt​ @watermeloncavill​

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch4: You Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone Part 1 Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella are both home for Christmas, and the annual New Year’s Party at the Jensen’s sees some unexpected guests in attendance…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  Another long updated, so split into 2 parts for you to read at your leisure!! Part 2 to follow shortly.  

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 Part 2

“Knowing what you don't want can often be more valuable than knowing what you do want.” Melchor Lim

"So when do I get to meet Evan then?" Rey asked as she handed Stella the plate she had just rinsed.

It was the day before New Year’s Eve and both sisters were in the kitchen finishing doing the lunch dishes while their mother watched TV in the living room. Stella loved Christmas, she always had, and this was the first one she was getting to spend at home for 3 years. But, the trade-off for being able to do so was having to put up with Rey constantly nagging about her home-based shopping business not doing quite as well in the last weeks as she expected and her constant struggle to get pregnant. And, honestly, Stella was a little bit tired of having to sooth her sister's same worries every time they got together. But now a new topic had been thrown into the equation- Evan. And Stel found herself wishing that they were still talking about ovulation cycles and how many times on average in a week a couple wanting to conceive should be ‘doing it’.

"Jesus, will you give it a break? That’s all I heard when I was home for Thanksgiving…and over Christmas dinner and every day since then!” Stella finally snapped “God, you and mom have talked about nothing else, even Jane was poking for more information when we were at the spa because you can’t keep your mouth shut."

True to her word Rey had spent Rick's money on a girls-only spa day which in all fairness Stella had gladly welcomed. She had relished all the treatments, each one with a more flamboyant name than the other, and as their day culminated they all were relaxing in the hot tub, enjoying the Mean Steam treatment while sipping Mimosas out of rather expensive looking glassware, Jane had started prying because Rey had told her about Evan. Luckily Janet, Jake's mum, had spotted Stella’s discomfort and had come to her rescue by scolding Jane for being a nosey bitch. 

"It’s Christmas. He’s spending it with his family in Boston." Stella shook her head at her sister.

"Boston’s only an hour or so drive Stel…"

"So what? We don’t get to see our families that often Rey." Stella replied, snatching a big round plate from Rey's hands.

"Whoaa, easy Stelly. Anyone would think you were trying to keep him away from us!"

"That’s exactly what I’m doing, yes." she rolled her eyes at her sister, who could clearly read the annoyance in her features and voice as when she spoke again her voice was a little whiney.

"Stel, don’t be like that."

Stella sighed. "Why are you so desperate to meet him anyway?"

"Hey, it’s not every day your baby sister gets herself a new man. At least not when she’s been dating her childhood love for what? Twenty years now? Come on, let me bask in the novelty, Stel."

"Fuck off Rey, I haven’t been dating Jensen for years and we were together nowhere near 20." Stella protested again, this time her voice a little louder.

"Felt like it to me." Rey shrugged.

Stella grit her teeth. Though her sister was exaggerating it was true she’d been with Jake for a long time all things considered, and doing the whole dating thing during the last 8 weeks had felt new and exciting in a sense. She was enjoying every part of getting to know a person while dating them, something she hadn't been able to experience with Jake as they already knew each other inside out when they had finally gotten together. And whilst that had been nice, and she wouldn’t change it for the world, with Evan everything was new and she had learnt what the cliche I want to know you better really meant during the dates which had following the first.

At the weekend following their trip to DC, Evan had taken her for another meal out, this one at a local Mexican place not far from HQ. Then the following weekend they’d visited a posh cocktail bar Stella had been eyeing up for a while which just wasn’t the Losers’ scene. There had been a trip to the cinema, an evening at the bowling alley, beers one Sunday afternoon whilst watching the Patriots’ game in a sports bar, a walk round one of the local parks with a burgers, grabbing a shake and ice cream on the way home….it was easy going, nice, no pressure… and then it had morphed naturally into something a little more serious.

The Friday before Thanksgiving Evan had invited her to his and he’d cooked, which in itself was a novelty as Jake could burn a pan of water. He’d whipped up a spectacular seafood linguini, followed with a simple baked vanilla cheesecake, and after 2 bottles of crisp white wine, one thing had led to another and they’d ended up making out on the couch before Evan had taken her into his room.

"Is he good?" Rey asked out of the blue as if sensing where Stella’s inner thoughts had led her.

"Oh fuck off Rey, do I ask you how Rick is in bed?"

"Better than Jake?" Rey insisted, ignoring her sister rhetorical question.

"You had to ask." Stella groaned.

Rey looked at her and Stella sighed, knowing she wasn’t getting off the hook. "Look, he’s good, ok, really good…but as for being better than Jake he’s…he’s just different."

As a matter of fact that first time they’d slept together on that Friday, despite Stella’s nerves, it had been fucking Earth shattering, and every time since hadn’t disappointed. Evan was a generous lover, giving before he took, making sure she was satisfied in every which way she could be. But Stella still found herself getting a little nervous beforehand. Evan was the one who instigated the sex, and whilst Stella was a more than willing participant, she was craving the day she finally felt happy enough to take charge a little.

"And that’s a problem?" Rey asked and Stella looked at her.

"What?" she frowned.

"Him being different to Jake?"

"No, I didn’t say that. It’s just…well, me and Jake know each other inside out, it’s bound to feel a little different, isn’t it?" 

Rey's eyes suddenly opened wide with realisation. "Oh my god…"

"What?" Stella asked, a little bit exasperated.

"You’ve never been with anyone else bar Jake, have you?"

Stella groaned but that was all the confirmation Rey needed to know she was right. Her sister had hit the spot but she was fucked if she was getting into that. "Look, enough about me. Any progress on baby Fitzpatrick?"

Rey sighed, not fazed in the slightest but Stella’s forced change of topic had redirected the conversation to one of her major concerns and Stella knew she wouldn’t be able to resist talking about it. "No, not yet. I don’t know what we’re doing wrong? We stick to the schedule, I’ve got an ovulation tracker…"

"God Rey, you talk like you’re baking a cake or putting an Ikea cupboard together, that’s what’s wrong." Stella scoffed.

"Science doesn’t lie Stelly." Rey said, as if lecturing an ignorant little girl.

"Science says it’s a matter of PH." she shrugged, a small grin playing in the corner of her mouth.

Rey rolled her eyes. "You know Jake made up that shit, right? I googled it."

"No… really?"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Stella." Rey squinted her eyes at Stella who grinned in response. "And speaking of low forms of wit, did you know Jensen’s new bimbo is coming to the New Year's party tomorrow?"

"Oh, is she?" Stella asked, trying to hide her surprise as much as possible, knowing that she was failing miserably. The news had shocked her a little, not that it was her business, but still.

"Careful Stel, is that a trace of disappointment I sense in your voice?" 

"No, I just hadn’t realised how serious they were. Mind you, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks. Work has been busy and we don’t hang out much now." she tried to explain herself without sounding scorned or bitter.

"You sure?" Rey asked, examining her sister's expression as she finished loading the dishwasher.

"Yeah, it’s just…well, you’ll know when you meet her."

And boy, would they all know. Because, Britney was, how to put it? Something else.

Stella sat at the table opposite Pooch and Cougar in the bar, sipping at her beer. It was the day before they were all due to head home for Thanksgiving so they had decided to head out for a few drinks, a way to celebrate with one another.

"So where’s Evan?" Pooch asked before taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"Oh, out of town on some intel gathering trip with the Canadian Ministry of Defence or something…he couldn’t say much. I won’t see him now until I’m back from New Hampshire." Stella offered.

"It still going well or..." Pooch pried a little bit more and Stella flushed a little. 

"Yeah, he’s nice…"

Cougar grinned and tipped his hat at her and she snorted, setting her bottle down. "He must be, we ain't seen you out of work for the last few weeks, he must be keeping you busy."

Stella laughed and shrugged as Cougar chuckled and then Pooch let out a groan. Stella frowned, and then turned in the direction he was looking at only to see Jensen working his way over with the brunette she’d seen him with a while back hanging on his arm.

"It's Britney, bitch." Cougar chimed in. 

"Wait, her name is Britney?" Pooch asked him and Cougar nodded. "How do you know?"

"Bumped into them at the condo one night." Cougar explained and Pooch's mouth fell open.

Stella frowned and turned around again, locking eyes with Jensen and saw him swallow, like he always did when nervous or apprehensive. But as she watched, he took a deep breath and continued his path over to their table.

"No Evan?" he asked once he reached them, looking at Stella, not even bothering in greeting the rest first.

"No. He’s away." Stella answered, looking back at him but gripping her beer bottle for dear life.

"Who’s Evan, another Loser?" the brunette asked then. Her high-pitched voice making Pooch and Cougar scrunch their noses as they shared a glance.

Stella glared at Jake as a grin spread across his face, daring him to say something and Jake's grin slipped under her glare as he turned to Britney.

"No, Evan is Stella’s…actually..." he looked at Stella, "What is he? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Late night booty call?"

"All of the above." Stella answered ignoring Jake's jab and necking her beer as both Cougar and Pooch sniggered and she fought to keep the smile from spreading on her lips at the look on Jensen’s face which was somewhere between disgust and disappointment. Instead she stood up and leaned towards Britney. "I’ll introduce myself seeing as he isn’t going to. I’m Stella."

"Hi, I’m Britney." she said and then to Stella’s horror she pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek. Stella remained stiff, merely concentrating on trying not to choke on the heady combination of Britney’s floral perfume and hairspray from the huge bouffant ponytail she was sporting. 

"So does your boyfriend work with these guys or…?" Britney's voice pierced the air again.

"No, I work with them." Stella explained as she took her seat back.

"What? You’re in the army too? Wow, Girl Power!" Britney exclaimed before giggling.

"Yeah…" Stella said as she turned back to Pooch and Cougar, mouthing WHAT THE FUCK?

"Does anyone want a drink or…?" Jake asked, trying to divert the weird situation Britney had just created.

Stella turned back to him and stood up again. "It’s ok JJ, I’ll get them, it’s my round."

"I’ll give you a hand." Jake offered himself, motioning to follow her.

Stella smiled as she put a hand on Jake's chest to stop him. "No, Cougs can. You stay here with your girlfriend." she ordered more than suggested, making sure her eyes locked with his when she uttered the word.

At her use of the term, Britney giggled and grabbed Jensen’s arm. Jake looked at her, and Stella could see the irritation flash across his face and she smirked before she asked what Britney wanted to drink. The girl requested a Malibu and coke, the worst combination Stella could think of if you asked her but then again Britney's choice of outfit and her likeness for glittery accessories spoke of her taste for itself, and then Stella looked at Jake.

"Usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Stel." he said, a little quieter this time.

Cougar dropped an arm round Stella’s shoulder and as they made their way to the bar, Stella could feel Jake’s eyes burning into her back. Point, set, match to Arty…

"From what I heard it was a total accident she got invited. She was on the phone to him on Christmas Eve when Jane was talking to Janet in the background. Apparently she caught the words New Year’s Eve and Party. Jensen, thinking she wouldn’t be able to get a flight at such late notice, told her she was welcome to come." Rey explained with a grin. "Anyway, next thing she’s messaging him, saying she’d managed to get a cancellation seat so she’s flying in on the morning of the party. Apparently he wasn’t best pleased." Rey snorted. "Jane doesn’t think he’s all that into her, but…"

Stella only shrugged. "Who knows what goes on in his head, I don’t anymore that’s for sure." she commented before her sister could ask more, but she couldn’t prevent herself from letting out a deep sigh. Whilst she had nothing against Britney, and despite the fact she was now with Evan, the idea of being at a party with Jake and his new girlfriend wasn’t filling her full of joy.

The rest of the day was spent in relative calm. Richard came back from wherever he’d been following lunch, Stella hadn’t been paying attention when Rey told her, and the 4 of them settled down for a rather furious game of monopoly which Richard won, Stella passing comment on how it would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t, given he was a finance manager.

It was just after dinner when Stella’s phone went off. It was a message from Evan telling her to get to her laptop so he could video call over the CIA network. So she quickly set it up in the kitchen and soon after it pinged and she accepted the call, smiling as his handsome face filled the screen. “Hey Pumpkin.” He smiled and Stella laughed at his ridiculous nickname for her, chosen due to the way they’d met.

“Hey!” she beamed back “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad.” He shrugged “Usual family bullshit at play. You?”

“Same.” She said, sitting back in her chair “I’ve eaten way too much.”

He chuckled “That’s what Christmas is for darlin’. Way too much home cooking, enough alcohol to fill a pool, and a side of chocolate, pie and cake for good measure.”

“Imma turn into a Christmas cake if I eat any more of it Ev.” Stella smiled, reaching for her wine. She took a sip and then looked at the glass “And probably a bottle of pinot too.”

“Well I don’t have a problem with that.” He smiled, waving his own bottle of beer at her “Food and drink, win win.”

Stella laughed and then the door to the kitchen opened and Rey walked in. She made her way towards the fridge and then paused, turning to Stella. 

“Oh my God is that him?” she practically screeched and moved, draping herself over Stella’s shoulders to get a look at the screen.

“Rey, piss off.” Stella grumbled, trying to push her away. Rey took the hint and stepped back a bit as Evan looked at her, smiling, before he glanced back at Stel.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, hi, I’m Rey.” Rey spoke from behind Stella who rolled her eyes “Stella’s favourite sister.”

“You’re my only sister.” Stella shot back as Evan chuckled.

“Nice to meet you Rey, or see you in this case.” He smiled that damned smile that could melt a fucking polar ice cap and Stella heard Rey’s little gasp. She sighed and turned to her sister.

“Ok, seriously, get what you came for and piss off.”

Rey held her hands up and went to the fridge, pulling out 2 bottles of beer and a can of coke. She headed to the door and stopped, looking at Stella, her mouth open.“O.M.G He is a snack!” she mouthed and Stella rolled her eyes again before Rey left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Sorry about that.” Stella turned back to the screen and Evan laughed.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a mad house here too.” He leaned back in his chair. “She seems nice.”

“She has her moments.” Stella smiled, “Anyway, enough about her, tell me what you’ve been up to. We haven’t spoken in a few days.”

“Yeah, sorry I was gonna call last night but it’s been manic. My sister and her 3 kids have been over and Uncle Evan was the star attraction. And by attraction I mean climbing frame.”

“Lucky kids…” Stella quipped, arching her eyebrow “I’d climb you too if I was there.”

Evan grinned at her comment and Stella found herself slightly surprised. The ten days or so they’d been apart had made her needy and she'd be damned if someone else could pull off a simple white t-shirt like he could, and that fucking chain he wore which was hanging out of the collar was doing things to her.

“Well a few more days and I’m all yours to climb Pumpkin” Evan smiled “So, any plans for New Year’s Eve tomorrow?”

“We’re going to a party at the Jensens’. They’ve thrown one for as long as I can remember so it’ll be nice to see them again, catch up. What about you?”

“Oh I don’t know yet.” Evan ran a hand over his beard, tugging gently on the whiskers which adorned his chin “I may stay here with the family or go out with some friends. I’ll make my mind up as I go.” He paused for a little before his hand dropped from his face “Will Jake be there?”

“It’s his parents throwing the party.” Stella arched an eyebrow “Of course he will.”

“Right…” Evan mused and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Are you jealous, Evan?”

“No, I just…” he groaned “Ok, yeah, yeah I am. The thought of you bringing in the New Year with your ex and not me kinda sucks Stella.”

“I know.” She sighed “But I wouldn’t worry too much. Apparently his new girlfriend is coming.” She took a deep breath before she smiled a little sadly “I really wish you were here Ev.”

And she did, not least because she actually did miss him, but the thought of Jensen eating face with the bimbo whilst she was simply there alone wasn’t something she was relishing.

“I promise I’ll make up for it when we get back to base.” Evan said gently. 

“You better.”

He chuckled “Being apart from me really suits you sweetheart.”

“What can I say, you spoil me.” She shrugged.

“And you haven’t even had your Christmas present yet.” He grinned.

“I can’t wait to unwrap it.” Stella smirked “And the present.”

“Fuck, Stella…you’re killing me!” he whined. She laughed and at that point a voice sounded in the background and Evan hastily looked over his shoulder before he called that he’d be there in a second. “That’s my ma…I gotta go.”

“Yeah, It’s probably time I bust Rey for eavesdropping behind the kitchen door.” Stella rolled her eyes and Evan laughed.

“Ok, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, talk then. Night handsome.”

“Night gorgeous.”

With that Stella cut the call and shut the laptop. She stood up, crept across the room and yanked open the kitchen door. Rey immediately straightened up and jumped back. “I was erm…gonna…” she points to the kitchen.

“Spy on us?” Stella folded her arms.

“I wasn’t…I just….ok, I was spying.” Rey shrugged “Because, fuck Stel, where did you get a man like that?”

“The CIA.” Stella said simply pushing past her and heading into the living room where Jules and Richard were watching TV, Stella following her chunnering about Evan.

“Leave your sister alone, Aubrey.” Julie looked up.

“I’m heading up to bed ma.” Stella smiled, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Julie nodded but Aubrey wasn’t listening, she was still talking about Evan.

“God mom, you should have seen him. And that smile…”

“Erm…” Richard waved “I’m right here.”

“Yeah, isn’t it about time you and your husband went back to your own house?” Stella asked. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Rey waved her hand, “We were going anyway.”

“Good riddance.” Stella mumbled.

Rey spun and pointed at her “I heard that. Don’t forget we have a date to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.” Stella said sarcastically and with that she bid them goodnight and headed to her room.

**** “You heading out?” Jane looked at Jensen as he groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah I gotta go get Britney.”

“Thought you said she wasn’t arriving until tomorrow?” Jane frowned

“So did I, turns out she messed up with the date on the flights..”

“What?” Jane looked at him.

“Don’t ask me, she’s a dumbass.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

“Woooow…” Jane looked at him as he grabbed his dad’s car keys from the side in the hall “That is love, right there.”

“Fuck off Jane.” Jensen raised his middle finger over his shoulder as he grabbed his jacket of the peg. He then paused and turned to his sister, shaking his head. “Seriously, though…when she told me what she’d done, do you know what she said? The mouse was sticky, Jensen and I booked a day early by mistake” he shook his head.

“Hang on.” Jane held her hand up “If she really had messed up with the dates then she would have been on a morning flight still, just on a different day.” Jake looked at his sister, frowning a little and Jane snorted “If you ask me, I don’t think she’s as dumb as you’re making her out to be.”

“Well I wasn’t asking you.” Jake shot back as he shrugged his jacket on and headed out of the door.

At that point Gracie wandered in from the kitchen, dressed in her pyjamas, followed by John.

“Who's dumb mommy?” she asked with a yawn as Jane held her coat out to pop on ready for the drive home.

“Your Uncle Jake, sweetie.” Jane said.

John chuckled “He told you about Britney arriving earlier than anticipated then?”

Jane snorted “Yeah, and considering she’s supposed to be his girlfriend..." she framed the words with quotation marks on one hand “He doesn’t seem too pleased about it.”

“Yeah well, I think we all know the reason for that.” Janet joined them in the hallway, not even bothering to hide her disdain for the entire situation and John snorted. He leaned over and gave Gracie a kiss “Night Squirt.”

“Night grandpa.” She smiled before she took a kiss off Janet too. “Night Nanny” and then she looked at Jane “When’s daddy back from the station?”

“When his shift finishes baby, now come on, let’s get you home.” Jane smiled before she looked at her parents “See you tomorrow.”

Jane and Gracie exited the house, making their way to her car. Jane strapped Gracie into the seat and then moved to climb into the driver’s side and paused, spotting her dad’s car was still there behind hers. Jake was sat in the drivers’ seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked pissed, really pissed, but before she had the chance to go and speak to him, he’d set off.

“Fucking idiot.” Jane grumbled to herself, and with a shake of her head she climbed in her own car and headed home. 

**** The following morning Stella woke up in a better mood, talking with Evan the previous night had calmed her restlessness and though she missed him she was determined to make the most of the New Year's party that very same night. It was just a few days more and they could be together and she could effectively unwrap her gift. 

She was getting ready to go shopping, Rey probably on her way to pick her up, when the doorbell rang and she cursed her sister for being earlier than expected for once in her life as she barrelled down the stairs.

"Honey, can you get that? I’m busy." her mother shouted from the kitchen.

"Sure mom." she replied just as she realised Rey wouldn't be using the front door and definitely wouldn't use the doorbell. With a frown she opened it and blinked in disbelief, her mouth falling open. Evan was stood there, wearing a warm, woollen coat, scarf and a huge, million dollar smile. The bastard!

 “Surprise Pumpkin…” he chanted, opening his arms for her.

Stella gasped and gave him a quick hug. “Oh my God…Ev, what are you doing here?”

"Well I got nothing on, you were only an hour away and after you saying you wished I was here…" he shrugged, “figured I could drive up to see my best girl."

Stella blinked again, before she smiled shyly. "You drove just to see me? That’s…wait… how did you know where I live?"

Evan laughed heartily. "I work in intelligence gathering for the CIA, wasn’t that hard."

"Ok, that’s kinda creepy, stalker behaviour." she mused.

He laughed again and winked an eye at her. "Perks of the job, sweetheart."

That damned side smile of his made Stella pause for a second before she giggled and jumped at him. He caught her and laughed as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ev..."

He smiled at her fondly before he kissed her tenderly, his cold nose bumping against hers. “Me too, but are you gonna let me in coz it's freezing out here…”

“Yes, let the man in Stella.” Mrs Stevenson spoke from behind her daughter, making Stella drop to her feet and turn to face her. Her mother smiled at her and then to Evan. “Hi Evan, nice to meet you finally.”

"It’s a pleasure Mrs Stevenson." he greeted the woman back, flashing his smile.

Stella looked at her mom as she pulled away to let Evan in the house, if she was surprised by her daughter's boyfriend showing up at her door she was hiding it very well, and then it dawned on her. "Oh my God, you knew he was coming, didn’t you?"

Evan shut the door behind him and looked at her mom, then to Stella and chuckled. "Clever girl."

"He may or may not have called me earlier this morning to check if you were doing anything and I may or may not have suggested he spends New Year with us." Mrs Stevenson conceded.

Stel gasped and looked back at Evan with hopeful eyes. "Are you?"

"Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to come back to Boston with me but your mom said you wouldn’t want to miss the party as you’ve not made one for 3 years so, choice is yours." he shrugged, flashing a dazzling half smile.

Stella bit her lip, Boston sounded good, the fact that he had come all the way to see her and was willing to take her back to his family's place sounded even better, but she was really looking forward to that night's party. She missed Mr and Mrs Jensen, and also Jane and, though the prospect of Britney being there wasn't very appealing, she thought that maybe with Evan there she could have a really nice time. Thus, after pondering the pros and cons she looked at him. "I’d like to go to the party if you wanna?"

 "Then party it is." Evan grinned.

"So this means I get to receive the New Year with you!" she grinned back at him.

"Yeah, guess it does." he said with a smile, one that was also loaded with the promise of a very good start to the year, if you knew how to read it that is.

And then the voice of Julie pulled them away from gazing into each other's eyes "I was gonna get the spare room ready but figured you two would want to share so I’ve left fresh towels on your bed Stella." 

"Mommmm." Stella protested, mortified.

"I’m happy to sleep wherever I’m told." Evan, ever the charmer, intervened.

But whatever Stella's mom was going to reply it was cut off as the kitchen door opened signalling Rey’s entrance.

"Stel, you ready? I thought we could head down to…" Rey began to say before she stopped dead as she entered the hallway and spotted a masculine presence, her mouth dropping open. "Fuck me!"

"Aubrey!!" her mum chastised her.

Rey blinked and looked at her mum and then at Stel. "He’s here?!"

Evan chuckled at Rey's reaction to him being there. "I am. Nice to meet you Rey."

"Erm, hi…" she managed to say before looking at Stella, smirking a little. "I take it you want a rain check on our shopping trip?"

Evan frowned at Rey's comment and gave her an apologetic look. "Oh, sorry, did I step all over your plans?"

"No, it’s fine. You can come, we were only going into town to pass the time, grab some lunch." Stella assured him. But Rey wasn't that willing to keep their plans as it were.

"No way am I playing 3rd wheel…you two go, I can do…stuff."

"You sure?" Evan asked Rey. "Coz I can just..." he said as he nodded towards what he supposed to be the door that led into some sort of den, but she didn't let him finish.

"No, don’t worry. It’s ok. You two will want to spend some time together, you didn’t come here to sit in our living room." 

"Whose living room?" Mrs Stevenson asked, amused.

 Aubrey ignored her mum and mused. "Would be a nice addition to it though…"

"Ok so I’m gonna bring my bag in from the car, be right back Pumpkin." Evan said, blushing a little at Rey’s complement before giving Stella a quick kiss on her cheek and heading out the door.

The three women watched him go appreciatively, until Rey shook her head and asked "Wait is he staying? And Pumpkin? What?"

Julie grinned as Stella groaned. She knew that one wasn’t going away any time soon.

****

Chapter 4 Part 2