#button down that can be worn with a blazer or not it doesn’t matter + dressed up OR down AND used as a coat or light jacket

[bibleofficial]

absolutely exhausted i’ve done sooo much today 😭😭 dealt w the shoes, went through old papers & binders, cleaned out boxes under my bed & in the closet, & i just finished watering plants. i ALSO got those mormon shirts today & the box ? WENT THROUGH IT - but the shirts are G O R G. like i’m truly a medium/small & thought the large would end up being too big but it fits PERFECTLY like it’s a HAIR smaller than the vintage guess shirt that has an immaculate fit - MONEY WILL SPENT !!!

[lotties-ashwagandha]

LOST & FOUND

shoko x fem!reader, 914 words

getting ready with shoko for a formal event hosted by your job, you help her with her makeup. SFW, and dedicated to my favorite gompie boy in the world @webism who takes all the credit for getting me into jjk. i love u just a little

You take a final look at yourself in the mirror, adjusting one of your earrings and the way your new necklace falls — Shoko bought you all of it, and you’d decided that the formal event your workplace was hosting would be an opportune showcase. You hardly attend events where parading your diamonds in public is the ultimate goal.

Shoko emerges from the master bathroom. She wears a black blazer over a white button-down, and a diamond necklace that matches yours. It’s an intentional sign, a very expensive and beautiful warning as she would see it, that wherever the two of you go you go together. She runs a hand over it, adjusting it just as you’d adjusted yours, and then runs her hands hastily through her dark hair before turning to rummage through the top drawers of your shared dresser. She bears an irritable expression hardly fit for the occasion as she digs.

“What are you looking for?” You ask, and Shoko gives an impatient sigh.

“I can’t find my makeup bag. I checked the bathroom drawers, I checked the nightstand earlier, I checked my fucking car…”

She slams a dresser drawer shut and begins to tear through another. She’s frantic — it’s unusual to see her this way — but as you go into the bathroom to check the drawers under the sink again you know it’s only a matter of time before she checks one of the places she listed once more and comes up with the bag. Shoko is messy in the way she keeps things, but she is always aware.

You check the first drawer under the sink, and then the second, and by the third you’re wondering if her makeup bag got abducted by aliens. You have no luck in the fourth, and you’re about to join her back in the bedroom when at the edge of the sink you spot it — a black makeup bag, worn with a broken zipper and with concealer stains down the side that make you note to buy her a new bag soon if she won’t buy one for herself.

“Shoko,” you call, but she doesn’t answer. You come out of the bathroom, calling for her out into the hall, and after a moment you’re met with the noise of frenzied high-heeled footsteps clamoring towards the bedroom.

“Did you find it?” She asks. As her gaze lands on the bag in your hands, relief pours over her and seeps quickly into her expression. “Fuck, thank you. Where was it?”

“On the sink,” you smile. She rolls her eyes at having missed it.

Shoko reaches for the bag, but you move it out of her reach.

“What are you doing?” She crosses her arms.

You nod over to the bed, and her confusion grows. “Sit down.”

Shoko tilts her head at you, lost until you unzip the makeup bag and she begins to understand. She’s still as she considers you — it’s been so long since you’ve done her makeup, but it’s a welcome change, one that reminds her of every season of your relationship. She recalls the times you would do her makeup at Jujutsu High when you were teenagers in your dorms. It takes her to drunken nights in your twenties when you’d do her makeup perfectly and she would poke you in the eye with mascara brushes attempting yours, and those were the nights that smudged lipstick was a guarantee as the process progressed.

Shoko nods, and she feels lighter as the love she holds in such memories guides her to sit at the edge of the bed. You come to stand in front of her, settled between her legs for better access, and take inventory of the contents of her makeup bag. Shoko’s hands find your waist, traveling casually yet never innocently lower.

“So,” you start, and begin applying her base makeup. “We’re going for a Bigfoot Joins the Circus look today, right?”

Shoko hums. “Clown nose and everything, can you do that?”

“Of course.”

You finish her base makeup, flawless on her as everything you put on her is, and move on to her eye makeup. You decide on a simple but elegant look, how she always prefers — black eyeliner and a bit of mascara, and lavender eyeshadow to make her brown eyes pop.

“Don’t poke me with that,” Shoko warns when you pull out the mascara, and you shake your head.

“I never used to poke you with the mascara. You doing my makeup, though…”

Shoko attempts to resist the movement that would come with laughing while you do her mascara. When you’re finished, you catch the love she looks up at you with. It’s endearing, grounding, and despite the knowledge that by now you’re likely running late for your event you are content to stay here with her.

You pick a watermelon pink shade for her lipstick. You apply it carefully, with a concentration that has Shoko smiling and you scolding her for disrupting your lipstick application.

“I can’t help it,” she tilts her head at you. “Now I won’t be able to stay still at all.”

You’re about to warn her not to smudge her lipstick again when she pulls you down onto the bed with her. In a quick motion she straddles your hips, leaning down to kiss you, and for the moment the urgency of your work event is forgotten. You’ll stay here in her arms, with smudged lipstick staining both of you in your tranquil seclusion.

[dottiro]

Hide & Seek [ i. ]

Unreliable synopsis: How many masks can you stack on one face? / What happened to Zandik? Warnings: This is experimental and involves my own interpretation of Dottore, this will be dark content, no proofread

A grim sky declares the first signs of a rapidly approaching storm. Clouds flock together, growing darker as they gather energy. Thus, rain begins to fall steadily. At first, with rhythm—dancing down, until its intensity overwhelms and everyone caught in it has to seek shelter. Finally, it reaches a climax. Lightning flashes, abrupt and blinding, followed by roaring thunder, deafening everyone with its fierce violence.

The storm has come, and soon it’ll pass—as all eventually will.

But ‘Zandik’ doesn’t.

ㅤ

ㅤ

· · ────── Ω ────── · ·

ㅤ

In the dining room, at the other end of the long table, a stranger sits in your captor’s chair. His crimson eyes are stern and focused on the steak placed on a porcelain plate before him. You watch as Dottore lifts his knife and fork between his slender fingers. He pierces the fork in, keeping the red meat in place, and then proceeds to cut it with the precision of a surgeon. 

His actions are delicate and not without purpose. He seems foreign in his home—too different from the enigmatic Zandik you met in the Akademiya. 

His pale blue hair is slicked back, safe for the two strands that frame his face. And however he might’ve tried to tame his blue locks, the ends curl up and create waves in his otherwise perfectly orchestrated appearance. 

Your eyes move to his neck which flexes when he brings the fork to his mouth. The silver utensil shines underneath the orange light from the chandelier above, something the metal parts of his single earring imitate. It hangs vertically against next to his jawline, showing off his rigid posture—something that feels out of place when he is supposedly enjoying dinner.

You try to fathom what has changed between this morning and now. 

Earlier, when he had approached you, you had gotten a glimpse of his full outfit. Simple, yet elegant, Zandik shows he made an effort to look perfect this evening. A dark sapphire button-up blouse is rolled up to his elbows, with the top buttons loose and showing off his collarbones. On top of the blue, he wears a white sleeveless blazer, decorated with charcoal-colored designs crossing his chest. To match the formal style, he wears black flat-front pants in a darker colour worn a little lower on the waistline to showcase his slender silhouette. Finally, the look is completed with a glimpse of his pristine white socks and black dress shoes. 

If you didn’t know better, you could’ve believed he had an important meeting to go to.

If you didn’t know better, you could’ve hoped he would’ve left, if only for a few hours. 

But you do know better. 

The reality of the current circumstances is as unfortunate as it is confusing. While you had locked yourself away in the gallery room, he had found you and instructed you to follow him. Having no courage to reject him, you followed him from one end of the mansion to the other. 

The whole time you were forced to chase his tense figure. Back then, aside from the obvious change in clothing and his improbable request for you to join him, you had already noticed something was different. He walked without rhythm, shoulders broad and tight, with his arms crossed behind his back… it seemed programmed—mechanical in the aspect he carried himself.

Part of you is convinced that his outfit is an indirect claim of power over you. While he allows himself to put effort into his appearance, you’re stuck with your old clothes from Sumeru, which; first of all, do nothing against the cold; but furthermore make you feel out in place, across from him at the table—underneath the crystal chandelier and china vases with intricate designs. 

For someone who decided to keep you at his side no matter the cost, a part of him seems keen to forget and neglect you. 

But not this one.

“Is the food unsatisfactory for your standards?” His voice is distant, robotic, and final. It’s not a question, but rather a statement.

You look at the plate in front of you. Red juices spread from your steak. To add colour to your otherwise dark thoughts, a spoonful of mashed potatoes and a mix of roasted veggies balance the meal. The utensils remain in their rightful place as you had found them; the fork on the left side of your plate, and the dull knife on the right. 

Your appetite had left when you first met this Zandik.

“I’m not hungry.” 

Your rebut comes out bland. It’s a tasteless excuse with no seasoning compared to the meal on the plate. You stumble over the tight composure you had tried to mimic as you hastily add, “I overate for lunch.”

Zandik’s eyes haven’t left yours from the moment he first spoke. Despite the dining room being void of homey furniture and bringing a cold feeling to the table, his frozen movements are the ones to incite the shiver that embraces your spine. 

He tilts his head lower, eyes drifting from your right eye to your left. “Since when has your appetite decreased?” he asks; being either curious or accusingly. 

Your hands move over to hover above the utensils. You try to shake him off, preferring the silence over the interrogation. “It’s fine. I’ll eat.”

He watches you hesitate. With shaky hands, you move your fork undecidingly over the plate. Every choice seems like a test and you fear to fail. Your eyes glance back at him, seeking some twisted form of assurance in the hopes you’ll find a right answer between all the same wrong choices, only to snap away when you meet his red eyes observing you. 

A test. This must be a test—!

You wish to go outside and let yourself be locked in by the snow. At the very least, it’d be much more preferable than your current cage. Between the thousand individual snowflakes, you’d be embraced by the coldness until your body would scream at you and force you back inside. It’s a constant cycle of trying to find a way out only to end up where you had started, and you wonder if the everlasting storm outside is that much different from Zandik.

Unlike the man sitting across from you, you avoid the steak. The red juices remind you too much of the blood that’s been spilt by his hands before and it makes your stomach churn in response. 

Your fork decides to pierce some of the tiny roasted carrots. You bring it to your mouth, focusing too much on the taste until you find everything you dislike. 

In the end, you gulp it down to your dismay.

You don’t notice the passage of time until a hand takes the plate away from your vision.

There is love in this gesture—as if he were apologising for his previous actions.

This time, your stranger waits in the room; letting you be the one to abandon him instead.

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡

[allthingswomen]

Fashion Tips for Women: 5 Things You Need to Know When Choosing Your Outfit

Seeing your wardrobe and thinking “Is this the best I can do?” is a sign that you need some fashion advice. With the help of tips from pros, you can make your clothes work harder for you instead of the other way around. But with so much information out there, which advice should you take and which are just fads? Here are five tips that help you pick an outfit that makes you look great.

Know your body

The first step in any wardrobe overhaul is knowing your body. Start by making a list of your best features and the things you’d like to enhance. Use this list to guide your purchases, either by selecting clothes that emphasize your positives or by avoiding pieces that play down your good points. Put your clothes to work. Buy tops that button down (or roll up) to show off your collarbones and cinch your waist, and dresses that skim your body and make your legs look long. Note what you tend to do with your hands when you’re standing around, like cross your arms or hide behind your hair. Then try to pick tops that let you do something different that’s less awkward.

Don’t buy it if you have to alter it

If a piece of clothing has to be altered to fit you properly, it’s not worth the money. Alterations can cost a significant amount of money and can be difficult to get done, especially if you’re a busy professional. It’s better to plan your purchases around what fits you now instead of trying to squeeze into something that doesn’t. If you’ve put on weight, don’t force yourself into your old clothes. Buy a few new items in the right size so you don’t have to stress about finding something to wear every day. At the same time, don’t buy too big a size because you want your new clothes to last. You’re better off buying clothes that fit you now and can be worn for years than a few that are too wide.

Mix and match with neutrals

Neutral shades like black, gray, and navy are classic for a reason. They look great with a wide variety of other items, making them ideal for wearing together. Plus, neutrals don’t go out of style, so your outfits will still look great years down the line. If you decide to buy more neutral pieces, make sure they work together. Avoid pairing a black blazer with black pants unless you use other pieces to break up the darkness, like a patterned scarf or colorful shoes. Neutral tones can go with almost any color, which makes them easy to mix and match. That doesn’t mean you should go overboard with this trend, though. Two or three neutral pieces per outfit is plenty, and you can add in colored accessories to add a pop of color to an otherwise monotone outfit.

Try different brands and silhouettes

Different brands have different shapes, and these silhouettes will make you look different. While an hourglass shape can look great in certain silhouettes, it may not work if you’re not built that way. A rectangle shape can make you look larger, while an inverted triangle shape can make you appear thinner. Take a look at the way different brands make their clothes and see which silhouettes and fabrics suit you best. Make sure that you try on the outfits at the store and look in the mirror from different angles to get a full view of how they’ll fit you. Remember that you don’t have to buy everything you try on, and don’t feel like you have to buy the most expensive piece.

Buy quality pieces you’ll wear over and over again

Some pieces of clothing are extremely versatile, like a good pair of black pants or a black skirt. Other items, like dresses and blouses, are best worn with a variety of different tops. No matter what you buy, make sure it’s something you’ll really get your money’s worth out of. Pick items that fit well, don’t wrinkle easily, and don’t show stains or wear and tear easily. Look for gorgeous outfit quality fabrics that will last for years and won’t stretch out so you have to replace them. You can buy less for less and still have a full wardrobe if you choose the right pieces.

[theharrowing]

Shaky Deposition ♢ 4: This is all for me

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

♢ Hoseok x Female reader, Yoongi x Female reader

♢ word count: 5.7k

♢ strangers to lovers, lawyer au, infidelity that turns into sharing, smut, nsfw, poly & slash, 18+

♢ warnings: oral sex m & f, light bondage, discussion of safe words, somewhat possessive behavior, desire for more than one man, inappropriate boss to employee behavior 

♢ beta read by @neoneunnajimin​ 

♢ posted april 2022 | read on ao3

"Ready?" Yoongi grumbles, and you startle, looking up from the magazine you weren't really reading while waiting for your boss to arrive and escort you to his office. 

Once again, Yoongi is wearing a hoodie and mask paired with his black slacks. The long chains you noticed during your first day are back, dangling low over one of Yoongi's thighs, and you do your best not to stare; you're not sure you're in the mood to be thinking about your boss's thighs this early in the morning. 

You set the magazine down on the small table and stand, leading the way to the elevator. Today you've worn the same style as yesterday, except the skirt and blazer are black, and you've paired it with a pink satin button-up shirt underneath. The clank of your heels against the marble floor echoes loudly through your entire body, and when you turn in the elevator, facing the large gold doors, you can see Yoongi staring at your reflection. 

Once in Yoongi's office, you linger away from his desk, giving him enough time to change into his work shirt without being an audience. Instead, you walk over to the large window and look out, watching people mill about as food trucks begin opening for business. When you finally turn to face Yoongi's desk, he's buttoning his shirt, and you tear your eyes from the hint of toned muscle and pale skin peeking out and begin to make your way toward his desk. 

"Hoseok will be joining us later," Yoongi informs you as you approach the chair in front of his desk and place your bag down on the floor next to it. 

You hum to acknowledge his statement, reaching for the stack you left off yesterday and uncapping your trusty highlighter. After a moment, you look up to find Yoongi staring at you, so you mutter, "Sorry, I heard you," before looking back at the paperwork. Something about his presence is so overwhelming, but you feel like you're slowly adjusting to it. 

"Yes, I know you heard me," Yoongi responds. 

When you look back up, Yoongi is still standing and staring at you, so you give him a confused smile, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him what he needs. Yoongi lets out a loud exhale and sits, scooting his chair and reaching for one of his files. 

"You're hard to read," Yoongi mutters. 

You attempt to look back at the file in your hand, but you can feel yourself becoming annoyed by his interruptions and set the paperwork down, holding eye contact as you cross your arms over your chest. Yoongi sets his file down and rests his chin on one of his hands as if lost in thought. 

"You know what's not hard to read?" you ask as you tap on the file you're working on. 

Yoongi scoffs and rolls his eyes, then scoots his chair back and stands. You try to ignore him, but Yoongi rounds his desk and sits against the edge of it so close to you that no matter where you look, his thigh is in your periphery. 

"Put on your sneakers," Yoongi says. "We're going to get a coffee."

"W-what?" you ask. 

"Come on. You're in a sour mood, and it's annoying," Yoongi grumbles, tugging the highlighter from your hand. "We're going to the café down the block, and you can tell me what's got you so bitter."

You squint at Yoongi as he replaces the cap on your writing utensil. "Am I sour, or am I bitter?" you ask, tilting your head. 

Yoongi shrugs, "Similar flavor profiles."

You lightly shake your head and mutter, "Not really," but Yoongi doesn't care, waving the conversation off and standing before you. With a heavy sigh, you reach for your bag and take out your sneakers. You grabbed your black pair today, so you don't feel embarrassed sporting them as you swap them for your heels, though you do wonder how Yoongi knows you change your shoes if he happens to show up later than you. Perhaps he peeked into your bag.

Outside, the weather is a little crisp, but it's already warming up, and there is a hint of humidity on the wind that makes you scrunch your nose; it's always cumbersome when the air becomes damp. Yoongi leads you around the building toward an area with restaurants and storefronts before coming to a bustling café, and he orders an iced americano, then encourages you to get whatever you want. You order a hot drink with caramel and espresso, deciding that he can afford to splurge on you as tax for being so irritating. 

Once you've ordered, Yoongi takes you gently by the arm and guides you to a table in the window to sit. You're surprised that Yoongi wouldn't rather return to the office first but take a seat, cradling the warm drink between your fingertips as you watch passersby out the window. 

"Okay, let's talk," Yoongi begins. "What's the matter? Is it because of what I said yesterday? Because you seemed interested at the time."

"My level of interest isn't the issue," you mutter.

"Ah, so it is related to that," Yoongi responds. "Then what is the issue?" 

You squint at Yoongi once more, tilting your head as if you're trying to read him, but as always, Yoongi's eyes are as cold and lifeless as a blank slate. "You and Hoseok both have a habit of completely waving me off. And for each other, it seems. Why is that?"

Yoongi sighs, looking out the window. "Hoseok and I have been friends for a long time. We have a really...particular relationship."

You hum in annoyed understanding. "So, if I did agree to blow off some steam with you, you'd still pick up your phone and wave me off to collect my garments and leave?"

Yoongi's eyes flash with intrigue, something you weren't expecting, and you get a chill as he smirks. "No, kitten, if we were in the middle of something, I would ignore his call."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "We could have been starting something yesterday, but you dismissed me."

Yoongi watches you for a moment before picking up his phone, thumbing around, and placing a call. You watch him curiously, taking a sip from your drink, and Yoongi looks back at you, holding his gaze on you as he speaks. 

"Yeah, hey, Seokie, where are you now? ... Oh you’re meeting with him now, for lunch? Perfect. ... Yeah, there's something about Mister Kim's story that isn't quite adding up. Do you think you could get his full account once more? ... Awesome, I knew I could count on you. Don't worry about coming back to the office today, yeah? We’ll discuss everything tomorrow. ... Alright, see you tonight, Seok."

Yoongi hangs up the call and lifts an eyebrow at you. 

"What was it about Mister Kim's story that you found unbelievable?" you challenge.

Yoongi tilts his head, smirking. "It seems he's trying to cover something up. I believe he has a personal relationship of some kind with the woman who is attempting to sue him."

You bite the inside of your lip, quietly tapping your fingers against your coffee cup. You weren't expecting Yoongi to actually have something he wanted to follow up with the client on because, truth be told, you wouldn't put it past him to lie in order to get his way.

"Shall we return to the office?" Yoongi suggests, and you nod, getting up from your chair and making your way to the door without waiting for Yoongi. He isn't far behind, though, leaning in close as he pushes the door open from behind you, wasting no time to crowd your space.

The walk back to the building is quiet, and you sip on your coffee, keeping in step with Yoongi but ignoring the overwhelming feeling that he's watching you. Once in the elevator, Yoongi turns to you, and you flinch as you look to him, trying as always to read his expression. 

"Y-yes?" you ask, suddenly feeling claustrophobic despite the elevator being sizable compared to others you've ridden.

"Seems we're at a bit of a standstill with this case," Yoongi remarks. "I don't want us to get too far ahead with the files until Hoseok is able to report back with Mister Kim's updated statement."

You hum in understanding, then shrug. "Guess I can find some busywork in the bullpen in the meantime."

With a ding, the gold doors swing open, and Yoongi takes you by the elbow, tugging you into his office. You gasp as you get pulled along, doing your best to keep up. Once back at his desk, Yoongi spins you so that you're leaning on the edge while he takes his place in your seat, looking up at you expectantly. He sets his coffee on the desk, and you hold onto yours by your side.

You stare Yoongi down incredulously, grabbing onto the edge of the desk with your free hand, angling your body away from him. Although you absolutely want whatever it is this mad man has in mind, you don't want to lay all of your cards on the table just yet. Yoongi takes the bait. 

"You have me all to yourself," he mutters. 

"Okay," you respond, teeth nibbling at the inside of your cheek. 

Yoongi raises his eyebrows, "Okay? That's all?"

With a petulant sigh, you roll your eyes. "What should I do? Get down on my knees and beg you to have your way with me, kind sir?"

Yoongi sinks from the chair to the floor, the chains on his hip clinking together as he positions himself on his knees before you, and your breath hitches. "I was planning to do that, actually," he responds. 

"Yoongi," you whimper.

"What do you call me?" Yoongi responds with a hint of snarl.

"Sir," you mutter softly.

"Yes, kitten, what is it?" 

Your lips move, but you can't find the words, staring down at Yoongi, whose sharp features have somewhat softened. 

"Uh—I don't know," you finally say softly. "I guess I'm nervous."

Yoongi hums in understanding. "You don't need to be nervous. Although," he smirks, "I don't tend to be very gentle."

A tingle of arousal shoots through you, and you squeeze your thighs together involuntarily, gripping harder onto the desk behind you. Yoongi reaches for your coffee and gently pries it from your fingers before angling himself up onto his knees enough to place it next to his. Your free hand immediately grips the hardwood edge, but Yoongi has other plans.

Yoongi grabs your thighs, his hands both pushing and pulling you in a motion that forces you to spin around. You're too surprised to fight him, so you allow him to turn you until you find yourself leaning over he large desk, palms flat against the surface. His hands are on your calves.

"I'm dying to taste you, Kitten," Yoongi groans from behind you. 

Your head falls forward, heart pounding as Yoongi's hands grip your lower legs. Your skirt is too tight around your knees to allow you to spread for him, so you simply wait for instruction, attempting to calm your shallow, erratic breathing. 

"Is that something you want?" Yoongi asks, though the tone is more of a demand.

You nod first, your voice struggling to find itself before croaking, "Yes, sir."

"Step out of your shoes, kitten," Yoongi instructs as he slides his hands down to grip the backs of your sneakers. You do as you're told, stepping from the right shoe then the left, listening as Yoongi discards them off to the side. 

Yoongi's hands slide up your calves, over your thighs and ass, his left hand lingering, feeling your curves while his right hand finds the zipper to your skirt and slowly pulls it down. Despite your feeble attempts at being mad at Yoongi for waving you off yesterday, you still wore a lace bra and panty set just in case he decided to make it up to you, and you don't miss the pleased groan that leaves Yoongi's throat as he begins to tug your skirt over your hips, slowly pulling it down past your thighs until the fabric is sliding down and hitting the floor. 

"Interesting," Yoongi rasps.

You attempt to look back but can't see Yoongi over your shoulder as you ask, "What?" 

Yoongi hums before speaking as if he's choosing his words. "Hoseokie mentioned you were more of a plain panties girl, but here you are in black lace. Did you wear this for me?"

Both hands slide over your cheeks, thumbs finding the insides of your thighs and spreading you open. You gasp, already feeling arousal build from having Yoongi touching you so close to your core. It frustrates you to know that Hoseok is telling Yoongi so many intimate details of your time together, but you can't find it in you to be upset when Yoongi is teasing you, so you let the thought evaporate. 

"Y-yes," you whimper. 

Yoongi's lips are on the back of your thigh, nibbling and sucking at the skin gently, moving around to new spots, presumably not leaving marks behind.

"I wonder what else I can get you to do for me that you don't usually do for him," Yoongi growls.

"W-what?" you ask.

Your answer doesn't come. Instead, a hand is between your legs, two fingers starting at the top of your labia, moving down along your slit. You gasp at the light touch, standing still to let Yoongi do whatever he wants with you. His hand slides back down to your inner thigh, and with both hands, Yoongi squeezes the soft flesh and spreads you. You can feel Yoongi's breath ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

Just then, the phone rings. With a heavy sigh, Yoongi's head crashes against your thigh, hands falling away from you. A puff of air leaves your lungs, and your shoulders droop. Of course the fucking phone would ring. 

"I forgot to tell Sejeong not to put any calls through," Yoongi mutters before his touch leaves you completely, and he stands behind you.

Yoongi rounds his desk and answers the phone, so you step completely out of the skirt that's piled on the floor and stand up straight, taking a drink from your room temperature coffee. Although Yoongi isn't far from you, he mumbles into the phone, and you don't really hear what he has to say until the end of the conversation when he informs the receptionist that he'll be on a long video call with a client and that she should send calls to voicemail for the time being. As he speaks, he collects the various files on the desk and stacking them into a neat pile at the end, near the phone, clearing the center of the desk completely. You twiddle your fingers against your paper coffee cup, and your legs begin to feel cold, bare thighs prickling with a fresh set of goosebumps.

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he stands up straight and begins to unbuckle his belt. You look up from your drink and watch as his long, nimble fingers make quick work of the metal buckle before he tugs on it, and the leather leaves his belt loops with a whoosh.

"Did I tell you that you could move?" Yoongi scolds. Your breath hitches and you cock your head to the side, humming questionably in response. 

"Lean over the desk from right there and give me your hands," Yoongi instructs. 

You're not sure if your arms can reach over the entire desk, but you stand with your thighs against the edge and lean forward, presenting your hands to Yoongi. Yoongi takes your hands and gently yanks you forward until you're bending over, standing on the tips of your toes. A gasp leaves your lips as Yoongi wraps the belt around your wrists in makeshift handcuffs. Once your hands are bound, Yoongi produces a strap that appears to be affixed to his desk, and he snakes it through your cuffs before securing it, leaving you restrained to his desk. 

"As long as you're in my office and we're playing, you'll do as I say, or you'll wait for instruction, is that clear?" Yoongi's voice is direct as he practically snarls at you, and your legs begin to tremble with anticipation and a little worry. 

"Y-yes, sir," you respond.

"Obviously, I won't make you do anything that you don't want to do; consent is important. If I ask or tell you to do something that is a hard no, simply say 'red.' The words 'no,' 'don't,' and 'stop,' may get too murky depending on the type of play, so always say 'red,' understand?"

"Yes, sir," you respond once more, feeling a bit of relief wash over you. Although Yoongi doesn't strike you as the kind of man who would do something you don't want him to, you also don't know him very well, and letting him strap you to his desk in the first place is incredibly risky. In fact, you become anxious and begin to question why you gave in so easily in the first place. 

Yoongi walks around you and grabs the bun your hair is pulled into in his fist as he leans over your body, pressing himself against you. The slight tug makes a whimper fall past your lips, the pressure in your head just enough to make the pull uncomfortable but not enough to hurt. 

In your ear, Yoongi growls, "Seokie couldn't even tie you up before me...and you gave no resistance. How cute."

"I-is this just a competition for you, then?" you hiss.

Yoongi chuckles then releases your hair. "Depends," he growls as his hands slide down your sides and grip you by the hips. The feel of Yoongi's fingertips moving across the satin of your shirt paired with Yoongi asking, "What else haven't you done?" makes you shiver. 

Your mind races with plenty of things you haven't done, but you're unsure what to say, and your voice dies in your throat as you attempt to say anything. Yoongi drops to his knees behind you once more, dragging his fingernails over your curves, down to your outer thighs, and once again, your arousal begins to build, tingling at your core. You feel somewhat bashful to be exposed and trapped simultaneously, especially with Yoongi taking his time, moving so slowly, and staying so quiet. You wonder what he must be thinking.

"I'm going to taste you now, kitten, if that's alright with you," Yoongi states as his hands move back up, over your hips, and begin to tug at the waistline of your panties. 

"Yes, sir," you whimper. 

Yoongi slowly pulls your panties down, lifting one foot so you step out of them before guiding that same leg to lift onto the desk. You prop your knee and thigh against the cold hardwood surface, tightening your fists in anticipation as your heart pounds heavily against your ribs. 

A whimper leaves your lips as Yoongi's tongue pushes against your clit, slowly licking down to your entrance and back up. The sensation already has your hips trembling and jerking, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks. Yoongi closes his mouth on your pussy, licking at your clit as he gently sucks, and you hear a deep moan come from his throat, which sends a shiver through your entire body.

"You do taste good," Yoongi growls as he seems to readjust behind you, and you gasp in response. 

Where Hoseok's movements were slower and more steady, Yoongi's are quick and sloppy, his lips and tongue consuming you like a man starved. Your head and shoulders fall forward as wave after wave of pleasure swallows you, threatening to pull you under completely. Yoongi's hands hold your thighs, keeping you spread for him as he savors you, tongue alternating between short, frenzied bursts and long, deep laps.

Metal and leather clank and scrape against the wood of the desk as you inadvertently tug at your restraint, your entire body washing over with pleasure, trembling and jerking as you cry out. Yoongi seems to switch positions, turning around with his back against the desk as his mouth finds you once more, licking and sucking your clit with the same enthusiasm. A finger teases your entrance, and you moan loudly, so desperate for him to penetrate you and bring you to orgasm faster. 

Yoongi pushes his finger into you before pulling it out and slipping a second inside, stretching you around his knuckles. You cry out as Yoongi's fingers match the pace of his tongue, feeling your body tremble as you become a whimpering mess against his desk. The addition of his fingers pushes you to the edge quickly, and you begin to beg Yoongi not to stop.

"Gonna come, kitten?" Yoongi growls against you.

"Yes!" you scream. "Yes, please, please, sir, please!"

Yoongi's mouth and hands work in tandem at a steady pace to drag your orgasm from you, and you moan loudly as your body shudders and buzzes. You come hard, small waves building and crashing as you attempt to relax and ride your high. When you're finally overstimulated, you lay against the desk, struggling to keep your leg propped up any longer. 

Yoongi pulls his fingers from you, then gets up, and you feel him tap on your other leg and mutter, "Lift this one; I want you on your knees."

You're not sure how the fuck you're supposed to get your shaky legs to cooperate, but you shift your weight forward and onto the leg that's already on the desk and manage to lift the other, crawling forward some until you're on your knees on the wooden surface. Yoongi walks around to where your wrists are bound and runs a hand through his bleached hair, smirking with his chin and lips glistening from your release. 

"You haven’t sucked Seokie's cock, have you?" Yoongi asks, raising one eyebrow.

You shake your head and mutter, "No."

"Good," Yoongi snarks as he undoes his slacks. His erection presses heavily against the fabric, and you gasp. 

"Would you like to suck mine?" Yoongi asks as his fingers take his zipper, waiting for your response.

You nod and lick your lips, muttering, "Yes, sir."

Yoongi pulls his zipper down and motions with his fingers for you to crawl forward more. You wonder if those were the same fingers he had inside you, and your pussy clenches around nothing as you look at them. Yoongi takes you gently by the chin and rubs his thumb along your bottom lip before pressing it against your tongue, forcing you to open for him. 

"Do you swallow?" Yoongi asks. 

"I never tried," you respond shyly around Yoongi's thumb. 

Yoongi squints as if considering it before saying, "I don't want to make you gag if you hate it. I'll come on your face and you can taste it and decide if you want to do it next time, sound good?"

"Uh—o-okay," you mutter, to which Yoongi squints, cocking his head. 

"Y-yes, sir," you correct.

"Good," Yoongi responds.

With wide eyes, you watch as Yoongi rubs himself over his briefs with his free hand, still cradling your face in the other. Yoongi reaches into his waistband and pulls out his cock, slowly stroking the length while his thumb pushes and pulls along your tongue at the same rhythm. Drool pools under your tongue, and you find you can't tear your eyes away from Yoongi, watching his hand intently.

Yoongi begins to guide your head down, gently tugging on your chin, and you lower your upper body to position yourself, relaxing your jaw as you open your mouth for him. Yoongi's cock is long, thick and pale, and you're so eager to taste him, you can feel your breath come out of your mouth in short, shattered bursts.

You lean forward and take Yoongi's cock between your lips, moaning as you swirl your tongue along the underside of his shaft, listening as deep, delicious whimpers leave his mouth. As you suck your cheeks in and take as much of his length into your mouth as you can, Yoongi hisses, grabbing onto your hair with one hand while his hips slowly rock to match your movements. You wish your hands were free so you could hold onto his thighs or stroke the length that you can't fit between your lips, but you enjoy the feeling of being used by Yoongi—of being nothing more than a submissive hole for him to fuck.

Yoongi's hips begin to roll harder and deeper than the pace you set, and you do your best to breathe through your nose, especially when you feel the urge to gag. Yoongi doesn't press forward hard or try to choke you, so you continue to keep up with his rhythm, squeezing your cheeks in as he thrusts forward and rolling your tongue along his shaft when he pulls out. Sweet, low sounds fall from Yoongi's lips, and you attempt to look at him through your lashes, which are beginning to fill with tears.

"Gonna teach you to deepthroat," Yoongi whines, "your mouth feels amazing, kitten."

A spark of pride bursts in your chest, and you continue to let Yoongi slowly but steadily fuck your face. It's not long before his hips begin to sputter, so you suck in even harder and work your tongue in quicker circles. Drool falls down your chin, dripping onto the desk, and Yoongi's grip on your hair tightens, no doubt messing up the bun it's in; what a spectacle you must be.

"I don't want you to suck Hoseok's cock," Yoongi mutters, hissing as he bucks his hips a little harder and faster, eliciting tiny gags from your throat. You attempt to make a sound to ask him what he means, but it's muffled in your throat. Yoongi must have heard it, however, growling, "This is all for me. You're only allowed to taste my come."

Yoongi pulls his cock from your mouth and strokes his length, and you close your eyes, continuing to hold your lips open for him. He moans before his hot release hits your face, first in a streak across your nose and cheek, then in a stripe and small spurts across your lips and tongue. You continue to hold your mouth open for Yoongi until his hold on your hair loosens, and he lets go entirely. When you're sure he's finished, you close your mouth and open your eyes, looking up at Yoongi as you taste his come. It's tangy and salty, and although you don't love the texture, you don't mind it, swallowing it and licking more from your lips to show that you're thankful for his gift.

Yoongi grins and takes your chin in his hand, saying, "You look good with my come on your face, kitten."

"Thank you, sir," you respond with a smile.

Something flashes in Yoongi's eyes before he clears his throat and looks away, dropping his hand from your face. You're unsure what was behind his gaze and try not to overthink it, leaning forward against your knees while you wait to be untied. Yoongi rounds his desk and runs his hands down your hips before leaving a soft but loud slap against your ass, making you yelp.

Two fingers enter your pussy once more, and you moan, instantly feeling your body warm with arousal and want. You wonder if Yoongi plans to fuck you and whether he'd fuck you hard or take his time with you. He did say he doesn't tend to be very gentle, but so far, he hasn't been too rough with you, either.

Your question is never answered, however. Instead, Yoongi pulls out of you and rounds his desk once more, approaching the hidden closet along the back wall right in front of you while he sucks you off of his fingers. You feel frustrated by the tease but also eager to be released from this desk and wash up. Your knees are starting to hurt, and your legs feel cramped up.

Yoongi retrieves a towel from the small closet space, then walks to the nearby corner through a door leading to a private bathroom. You hear a sink run momentarily, then see him return, pants zipped and buttoned, though his shirt remains untucked. Yoongi gently wipes his come off your cheek, then unfastens the belt from whatever held it to the desk, allowing you to sit up in a more comfortable position while he undoes the makeshift cuffs from your wrists. As the belt is removed, you notice red indents and light raised marks that indicate where the straps were tight against your skin.

"This shouldn't bruise," Yoongi informs you as he gently rubs over the marks.

Once you're off the desk and have your panties and skirt pulled back on, you go into the bathroom. Just like Yoongi's office, everything is dark and looks expensive, and you notice there's even a shower in here. As you fix your hair and wipe the mascara tears from your cheeks, you smile softly to yourself. You enjoyed sucking Yoongi's cock, and you hope that he wants to lick your pussy next time there's not a lot of work to be done, provided Hoseok isn't around. You think about Hoseok, about what he would feel about this, but quickly push the thought away. It's not like you're dating, so you decide you don't need to worry about it too much.

Yoongi is standing shirtless when you return from the bathroom, and you try not to stare, but it's hard not to. You wonder if Yoongi would let you scratch pink marks into his pale skin, biting your lip at the visual. Yoongi turns and catches you staring, rolling his eyes with a smirk before pulling his hoodie over his head.

"We can be done for the day," Yoongi mutters, though it’s hardly approaching lunch time.

You pad over to the desk and find your sneakers, which were tossed not far from where Yoongi removed them from your feet, and step into them. The coffee you abandoned is cold, but you drink it anyway; you don't mind the sweet caramel drink at this temperature.

"I don't know when I'll be able to send Hoseok off next," Yoongi informs, "but I want to make this a habit if you're interested."

You nod your head and hum in agreement, also wanting to make this a habit.

"He shouldn't know about it, and I don't want you sucking his cock, understand?"

"Why?" you ask.

Yoongi shrugs and smirks, then responds, "For fun."

You nod and accept Yoongi's terms, then gather your things. You wonder if you smell like sex—if the receptionist and anyone else would notice the scent of your pussy as you walk by. Though you cleaned yourself up, you're still wet; in fact, you'll probably have to touch yourself while thinking about today as soon as you get home, you’re still so worked up. You pull your phone from your bag and check it, noticing Hoseok messaged you only a few minutes ago asking when you think you'll be done for the day, letting you know that he's finished with his client meeting. You hesitate to respond, instead allowing Yoongi to escort you to the elevator.

The ride to the first floor is quiet, and just before the elevator reaches its destination, Yoongi's thumb caresses your cheek. You turn to look at him, finding Yoongi staring at your lips, and you wonder what kind of kisser Yoongi would be—whether he'd kiss you slowly and deeply or be sloppy and needy. Your reverie is broken as the elevator dings, and the doors fly open. Yoongi drops his hand from your face quickly, and you look to find Hoseok leaning against the receptionist's desk, giggling at the woman behind the counter before spotting you and standing up straight.

"Hey, you two!" Hoseok calls, prancing over to pull you into a hug as soon as you're out of the elevator. Yoongi stands silently next to you, and you mutter, "Hey, Seokie. Was just gonna respond to your text."

You still feel weird about Hoseok's affection; you haven't seen him since the day you fucked, and then he dropped you off to hang out with whoever called him—presumably Yoongi. Still, his smile is so sunny, and you have a hard time being upset with Hoseok as he pulls you into a hug, sneaking a kiss against your forehead.

"Not here," Yoongi mutters under his breath, making Hoseok release you and wrap Yoongi into a tight hug, kissing his forehead loudly. Yoongi grumbles, and Hoseok giggles, and you stand watching the scene unfold while feeling somewhat awkward.

Once Hoseok releases Yoongi from his grasp, he turns back to you, and his eyes trail down to your pink satin blouse. Hoseok cocks his head to the side and asks, "What happened here?"

When you look down, you notice an almost-dried wet spot on your shirt that was most likely drool from when you were sucking Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi lets out a low scoff beside you, and you feel your cheeks redden as you respond, "Just spilled some water on myself."

"So clumsy," Yoongi responds, and you turn to him in time to see him roll his eyes and sneer, looking at you as if you're a nuisance. You're not fond of the fake negative attention, but you roll your eyes in return for show and do your best to shove the feeling away. 

Hoseok invites you to go out with him and Yoongi, but a well-timed yawn helps you lie and say you'd rather go home for the day, muttering something about helping your mom garden before making your way to the bus stop. You're still not sure where you and Hoseok stand, but you did have fun with him, and it seems like keeping him in the picture only works to spur Yoongi on and make him more excited, so you decide to keep up your juggling act for now. 

You want to explore more with Yoongi and his desk restraints, and if fucking Hoseok on the side to the specifications that Yoongi decides on makes for a more dynamic sexual experience with Yoongi, then you're happy to oblige.

♢ Story written for the Suits & Ties Collab event

Tags: @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @mwitsmejk 🖤 DM or commend to be added to the tag list!

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[obeymeluv]

You Steal the Boys’ Clothes

Something I’ve been thinking of for a while.

Lucifer

It was rare the eldest was without his cape, as everything seemed to be a formal event and he must be dressed to impress. Being dressed to impress, however, means being clean so he gets it cleaned from time to time

Lucifer is a very organized, practical man. Constantly towing the line of obsessive for the sake of orderliness.

He knows where his cape should be, and that it’s not there

With a demon’s-only screech that warns Mammon to stretch his calves and run, Lucifer hunts down the three most likely suspects to interrogate them (Mammon, Satan, and Belphegor).

He tries to get a two-for-one by dragging Mammon into the study where Satan sits smugly with a book (because he knows he didn’t do it but MAN is he enjoying this!)

Imagine surprising not one, but THREE demons when you come shuffling down the hall with a Lucifer’s cape wrapped around you like a blanket.

It whispers and it drags and it absolutely DROWNS you.

Very charming. Ethereal, almost like some sort of wedding wear

Lucifer would’ve never imagined you’d be the culprit, and now his poor brain is trying to save and process the idea of you looking so sleepy-happy in his clothes

And the ex-angel falls all over again.

He catches the little cheek nuzzle and way you bunch it around your body, a foot poking out not to get tangled

Satan and Mammon will probably die laughing instead of at his hands, but Lucifer could really care less

Lucifer idly wonders where you’d curled up that he totally missed you, and escorts you gently but red-faced to your room

Satan and Mammon tag along, and when they see Lucifer come out with his cape they can only deduce he put you to bed.

Mammon

With no homework to do and some money in the bank, Mammon was ready to spend the weekend tearing up the town with you!

He was fresh out of the shower and mostly dressed, searching feverishly for his beloved white and brown jacket

Mammon wasn’t the cleanest person by nature (hello, money hoarder and collector of interesting/valuable things) so he tidied up as he went

As he started to suspect one of his little brothers was holding the jacket for ransom, he sent out a group text asking about it

There were several typical smart-ass responses (Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan) and he was in the middle of a snark fight when you showed up at his door somewhere between bashful and chill

In HIS jacket

Mammon’s brain shuts down.

HIS baby in HIS jacket? HELL YEAH! OH GOD, IT’S TOO PERFECT!

FIEND, TAKING HIS HEART!

“It’s kind of a human thing,” you explain. “There is a one-jacket fee among couples. Usually it’s a hoodie.” you tease, reluctant to shrug it off, “But this seems to be your only jacket so I guess I could give it back.”

It’s very subtle, but he’s worn that jacket for centuries and no amount of detergent can disguise the scent that makes his heart skip a beat

Something about the smell of your skin and a hint of his has him purring

You hold the jacket out to him. Mammon wraps his fingers around it and swings it around until he’s holding it over one shoulder

The yellow takes over in his eyes a little more. Gets a little brighter and intense.

“You want to take anything else off?” he husks playfully

Your day out turns into staying in and Mammon is happy to trade his jacket for a shirt you can sleep in (like, forever. It’s fine. Whatever, dummy.)

Leviathan

It was actually really hard to steal Levi’s clothes because he lived in his hoodie and turtleneck. His RAD uniform was really just for show and that wasn’t what you were looking for, anyways. You didn’t want to chill in uniform.

He was very particular about his merch because certain shirts were collector’s items and he didn’t like people messing with his folding patterns

You went to Asmo with your dilemma and he found it absolutely ADORABLE. It was almost enough to make him jealous, really

Somehow (Asmo being Asmo?), the fifth- born was able to swipe one of the green button-ups Levi wore under his RAD uniform

His first thought was to alter the garment to make it fit you (matching outfits? YES!) but Levi would probably kill him. His big bro hated shopping for clothes unless he HAD to have them.

Asmo gets the bright idea to magically/temporarily alter the fabric to fit you. Maybe Levi will like it so much he’ll just give you a shirt! 💖 (Or get some fucking outside time and go buy more shirts!)

Levi catches his own scent somewhere outside of the door and his brain goes off. He hits the pause button at lightning speed.

No one else smells like him! They haven’t shared bath products in centuries! He already finished his laundry so what’s happening?!

His first thought is: Mammon broke into my room while I was in the bathroom and stole something to pawn!

Levi doesn’t even think to take inventory of his stuff, barging out of his room to hunt down his big brother

He’s yelling and whining before he even sees him. Then he sees you. In his shirt.

All the angry words die in his throat as the absolute mortification and adoration sets his face on fire

SO KAWAII! It basically makes up for your normie-ness.

Levi’s stuck standing there, blushing his head off and unable to say anything as his fists shake with joy and nervousness

He gets a nosebleed. One of his brothers are laughing at him.

You guide him back to his room to take care of him, Levi lets you and becomes very fascinated with the idea of you in his clothes .Lots of petting and figuring out you look DOUBLY MEGA CUTE when the magic wears off and you’re just in a pool of fabric.

He’s totally down for matching clothes and definitely lets you keep the one you’re wearing.

Satan

His wardrobe is very...interesting...to say the least

Colors and personal combinations aside, Satan actually has a very smart wardrobe. Lots of basics and easy layers.

You can’t steal his signature green sweater or the blazer he seems to live in, so you settle for an emerald knit sweater that has a bit of a v-neck/university feel to it

It takes Satan a while to notice, as he’s buried in a book. You two tend to gravitate towards each other and just enjoy a cozy, companionable silence

He’s just finished a book and is debating cracking open one from the stack to his left when the color catches his eye

The smooth, sly comment dies on his lips when he realizes he likes the damn thing because IT’S HIS

You look very cozy and warm. It’s a very ‘cuddle me’ kind of look.

Perhaps you could warm his lap? Or give his poor hands a rest under the hem?

Very cheeky and clever. Grabs you by the sleeve of it just to ‘answer his curiosity about whether it matched his nails’.

Does he have a cute university student kink? If he didn’t, he does now?

There’s a 50-50 chance of you guys having sex.

Will definitely want to hold you and cuddle you close, petting the fabric and whispering compliments into it.

If you don’t already have a business/academic attire, Satan will definitely suggest a few pieces because YES. This is a thing he loves and it DOES things to him.

Asmodeus

He’s the type to let you think you stole something

Probably stages what he wants you to steal just so you take it

Honestly, I could just see him dumping some of his clothes on you because you’re dating now and this is a cute thing he read about!

It’s super likely he’s into couple outfits or coordinating outfits, so he’s either spent time in his closet pre-planning or asked you to try on a million things just because

This cutie pie purposely orders THE BIGGEST thing he can find so you can both fit in it at the same time

Asmo loves you to pieces no matter what, but seeing you in his clothes makes him squeal and hit a note Mammon has threatened to murder him over

Ever dramatic, this is like, THE BEST THING EVER

A MILLION Devilgram posts about it (safe ones, of course)

Do you guys spark a couple’s trend and spade of lover’s stealing each other’s clothes to snap a victory pic? Maybe

Probably fake faints at the sheer glory of you in HIS bomb ass clothes. Definitely fans himself

Spoils you rotten with compliments

This man is weak. “Gorgeous! Smother me.” as he falls back on the bed and gestures to his face

He won’t turn down the idea of sexy times (depends on your libido, comfort, etc.) but sometimes he makes raunchy jokes just to be funny. Smothering could also mean using him like a body pillow (which he’s totally okay with).

You get max cuddles and WILL be the envy of Devilgram

Beelzebub

Beel felt a little guilty for leaving you at the House of Lamentation with his brothers

You guys were supposed to hang out after school but there was an emergency practice. The coach always got pre-game jitters and demanded a few last runs. He showered and ran back to the House, hoping you still had time for him.

He tiptoed quietly into his shared room, unsurprised to find you waiting there for him. You’d been caught in Belphie’s sleepy little aura by the looks of it,

Beelzebub couldn’t help the grin or little hum that made it past his lips. Your eyes were open but he didn’t know if you actually saw him. You looked super cute in his humongous bed though

You were getting sleepier and sleepier, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Beel pulled the sheets over you and gentle untangled the arm you managed to latch on to

Maybe waking up to a bit of food would make up for everything! Beel toiled away in the kitchen, making a cute little snack tray for the two of you.

In reality, it could probably feed at least twenty, and he ate at least half of what he prepped.

Beel returned to the room with what he considered a decent amount (scraps, kind of, but enough variety! He tried! It’s the thought that counts!) and was surprised to see his sheets all tangled and half-kicked from the bed

You were wearing his jacket now, passed out and turned into the furry lining that usually went across his shoulders and neck

DId you sleep walk? He was trying to understand how you’d gotten into his jacket

Beel realized it was the first time you’d been in his clothes and it was enough to make his heart melt

Super huge on you, obviously (extra fabric everywhere), but so cute! He could basically swaddle you in his jacket

“They’re a restless sleeper,” Belphie yawned. “I thought it would help them calm down.”

It used to work on Belphie, so Beel could see why he resorted to it

Beel offered his twin some food, sitting carefully on your other side.

He shifted some of the parka fur away from your face, trying to fix your hair and nudge your chin up so your nose wasn’t buried in anything. He stroked your cheek a little, mesmerized by the sight of you and how you felt.

Belphie declined, muttering something about, ‘Stop looking like that and eat your food! Gross!’ before Beel settled for patting your head one last time and eating quietly

Belphegor

He’s another one that’s hard to steal from

You’d think it’d be easy since he sleeps all the time, but Belphie really only wears 10% of the clothes he buys

Yes, he’s a pajama snob and has all things comfy and cozy, but hardly any of them smell like him because he falls asleep anywhere with little issue (no special clothes required!)

You thought about stealing his blue cardigan with the pocket, but he’s always sleeping in it!

Belphie picks up on your train of thought, and the frustration, because you fall asleep thinking about it. Dreaming about coyly stealing his cardigan and being all cute and snuggly in bed

It’s enough to wake him up, shuffle to you, and break your sleep. He flops down on your bed with his cardigan unbuttoned and says ‘climb on’ while patting his chest

You’re obviously sleepy and confused and he loves it. Belphie slides you onto his chest and wraps his arms around you, resting bits of the fabric on your back as you settle into him

It’s not the same but it’s close enough

Would you be offended if he got you cow pajamas so he could snuggle you like his favorite pillow? He falls asleep wondering about the answer

He wakes up to see that Beel has covered the two of you with his favorite blanket.

You in his blanket? Against him? Slowly smelling of him and his clothes? It’s the best thing to fall asleep to.

Makes a joke out of your clothes-stealing quest by stripping one of his pillowcases off and putting you in it like a little sack. You have to stay on his bed now because you’re his pillow and all pillows stay on the bed.

“What? You wanted to smell like me! It’s something I use!“ Belphie defends as you wonder whether or not you like this human pillow thing while he snuggles you.

[kevindayscrown]

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.

Part 7 Night Lights

(TW: Awkward first dates with Andrew watching from a distance)

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Head over to the directory to find the previous parts.

Kevin knew that wherever they went in Palmetto, someone was bound to recognize either one or both of them. It didn’t matter where their date would take place, as long as people saw them.

He’d been to dates before. With Thea, after he left the Nest and whenever the two of them had time. It had been less than ideal. But, being the only experience that he had, Kevin used it as an example and booked a table at a restaurant.

It was obvious that Eric was hesitant about it but he agreed nonetheless.

“I think I might have a suit buried somewhere.”

Of course, he had to book two tables, seeing as Andrew and Neil would be joining them. He’d told Andrew that he didn’t need a fucking chaperone, but Andrew had ignored him completely.

Eric offered to pick Kevin up at the parking lot, half an hour before their reservation. Kevin had gone with the suit he’d worn at the last banquet, figuring this wasn’t something he should put too much thought or effort into.

Kevin realized, upon meeting with Eric in the parking lot, that he had had a different idea.

Suit brand new, hair brushed back, freshly shaved, the goaltender looked less like the jock he was and more like the proper date for someone like Kevin.

That thought made Kevin halt. Obviously, his ideal date would have been a woman. Obviously. He wasn’t even attracted to men.

“Come on Day, give me that one million-dollar smile all those fans of yours go crazy over,” Eric said and laughed as he opened the door so that Kevin could get in the car.

Kevin simply glared at him and got in the car. As Eric closed the door, Kevin watched Andrew and Neil heading over to the former’s Maserati.

“This is going to be a long night,” he muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

The restaurant was packed, which made sense since it was Sunday night. Their tables weren’t as close to one another, which Kevin was grateful for. He sat down across from Eric an picked up his menu.

“Are you going to give me the silent treatment all night?” Eric asked once they’d ordered.

Kevin looked at him and put his hands down on the table. He found himself wishing he had the puck, which had proven to be quite useful as a stress reliever.

“We have nothing to say.”

“I thought you loved hearing yourself talk.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes at him, but decided to let it slide. He almost clenched his left hand again but Eric reached for it and stopped him.

“I told you not to do that.”

Kevin would have pulled away, but the warmth of it reminded him of their night practices, when Eric would take his hand and guide him forward on the ice.

He wasn’t sure if Andrew would come out of nowhere and use the table knife to stab Eric’s hand, but they’d made a new deal and Kevin hoped he would keep it.

“Day, relax. You are too tense. We are supposed to be on a date, no?”

“Why are you enjoying this?” Kevin finally asked as he stared at him, although he tried to not let his anger show.

Eric looked surprised by the question, but quickly shook it off with a shrug.

“I don’t care what people think, Day. They can make assumptions about me all they want. That’s on them. I just want to have a good time.”

He said it so casually, that Kevin was almost jealous of it.

“Are you-,”

“Gay?” Eric completed the sentence for him and then shrugged his shoulders a second time. “I don’t like labels. And I’ve never thought about it really. I’ve only ever dated girls but honestly, who knows?”

Kevin stared at him as if Eric was speaking a foreign language but said nothing else as their food arrived. Eric pulled his hand away; Kevin’s own almost instinctively reaching for it until he forced it to stop.

They ate in silence.

Eric shifted in his seat when they were done.

“I have an idea. But you’ll have to trust me.”

Kevin didn’t like the sound of that so he only arched an eyebrow at him.

“Look, no offense, but this is kinda boring and I want both of us to enjoy this. Plus, we may manage to get rid of your legal guardian over there,” Eric said as he glanced at the table where Neil and Andrew were at.

Kevin thought for a moment but nodded. They both insisted on paying but eventually settled with each of them paying for what they’d ordered.

Sneaking out of the restaurant without being seen was easier than expected, but perhaps it was because Neil and Andrew unexpectedly ended up having their own date, which kept Andrew occupied.

Eric wouldn’t tell Kevin where they were going, but Kevin was just glad to be out of there and not have Andrew on his back, watching them.

The building they stopped at was not enough on the outside to alert Kevin of what was waiting for him. Eric looked excited, which scared Kevin further as they made their way inside.

“Seriously? A public rink?”

Children yelling and laughing as they slid and fell across the ice, couples holding hands, groups of friends messing around, amatueurs holding onto the ledge. It was loud and busy.

Eric grinned at him. “I brought our skates just in case,” he said as he held up the duffel bag he’d taken from the trunk of his car.

The goaltender seemed to know his way around. He found them lockers after talking with some people he was quite friendly with and Kevin removed the blazer of his suit and the tie, shoving them inside, with no care whether they’ll get wrinkled.

Eric handed him his skates and as Kevin put them on, the other reached forward and undid a few buttons from Kevin’s shirt.  

“It’s not ideal to skate in this but let’s make the most of it.”

People in and out of the rink instantly recognized them as they slid on the ice. Kevin told himself that that was the only reason Eric reached to take his hand again.

“Relax,” he whispered in his ear as he leaned closer to him. Feeling Eric’s warmth breath against his skin in an otherwise cold room made Kevin shudder.

He turned his head to look at him, but almost fell back at how close their faces were. Thankfully, he had practiced enough to keep his balance.

Eric smiled at him and then moved forward, taking Kevin with him. Kevin tried to dodge all the kids and anyone who was in their way. Some would come up to him on purpose, introducing themselves, saying they were big fans. Kevin gave them all his flashing press smile, saying he was glad to meet them, while still holding onto Eric’s hand.

“If you’d excuse us, we are on a date,” Eric eventually told yet another person who had approached them. Despite the words, the way he went about it reminded Kevin of how calm he was on the rink during games.

People mostly left them alone after that. Kevin was grateful for it. Sometimes, he got too lost in the persona, in the ‘who he was supposed to be’ that he lost the meaning of what he did.

Besides that, however, Kevin realized that he was genuinely having fun. The two of them would challenge each other as to who would skate a certain number of circles faster, and in the end, they’d banter about it while still holding hands.

Kevin forgot which part of it was an act and which was real, the lines blurred.

It dragged on long enough that they’d have to leave because the rink was closing for the night.

“The night doesn’t have to end here, you know?” Eric said when they were both in the car.

Kevin smiled. It was a genuine smile, nothing more than one of the corners of his lips quirked upwards. But it was still there.

“No. No, it doesn’t have to end here.”

[mellowswriting]

Congrats on 100! For the requests can you write something with Marcus Pike where he never knew the reader had tattoos because her ex hated them so she covers them up with their clothing. I hope its not too specific or odd ❤ (Sorry if this sent multiple times, im having internet issues)

Ink

pairing || Marcus Pike x Reader

summary ||  Marcus discovers your tattoos - and why you hid them from him.

word count || 1,546

warnings || shitty ex, kinda hurt/comfort

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist

Your day, put simply, was going absolutely shittily.

First, you woke up feeling amazingly well rested. Sounds like a great thing, right? No. Unbeknownst to you, your phone charger became unplugged and your phone had died overnight. Without your alarms to get you up and caffeinated, you were left to scramble into your office attire and out the door with a frazzled mind and zero coffee in hand. You knew better than to try to tackle what was starting as a difficult day without the energy boost, so you bit the bullet and stopped at a café on your way to work. 

Foolishly, you thought your morning was looking up when you made it through the line in record time - until you took a sip of your coffee and simultaneously burned the everloving hell out of your tongue and learned that your order was not only incorrect, but entirely undrinkable. The attitude in which you dropped the to go cup into the trash outside of FBI headquarters could’ve brought the entire building down, but that was neither here nor there. You couldn’t find it in you to be frustrated with the sweet baristas at the café - they were overwhelmed with the morning rush, after all. No, your frustration was placed solely on the universe.  

In a last ditch effort to save your morning, you stopped by the break room for a cup of shitty office coffee to take back into your little office. You were frazzled enough that the team didn’t stop you on your march through the bullpen. With the blinds open to let the early morning sunshine warm your back, you settled at your desk and finally took what felt like the first somewhat calm breath since you opened your eyes. You grabbed your worn notepad and began jotting down the list of tasks you had to get done that day, grateful that it was mostly humdrum paperwork and not anything grueling. You wouldn’t have had the spoons for that. 

There was something about having each of your responsibilities laid out and ready for you to tackle that made you feel much better. A small light at the end of the tunnel. You took a deep breath and began filling out your latest case reports, your practiced fingers flying over the keys of your laptop. Of course, in true fashion, the universe decided to put you in your place. You reached for your coffee, eyes still on the laptop screen, and severely misjudged the distance and managed to tip the cup over. 

“Son of a bitch!” You hissed, shooting out of your seat at the bite of hot coffee dripping down your front. Instinct had you ripping your blazer off and pulling at the buttons of your blouse, desperate to get the soaked fabric away from your skin. At least you were wearing a tank top beneath it, even though it was thin enough to be almost see through. “You have got to be kidding me.” 

Three quick knocks rapped against your door and you didn’t even have to guess who it was - Marcus Pike, your coworker, good friend and his latest title - boyfriend. He never strayed in his little patterned knocking, something you found endearing even when you were having a comically bad morning. 

“Come on in, Marcus!” You called out as you dug around in your drawers for the wipes you kept there. Marcus entered with a bright smile that faltered slightly at your disheveled state. Your tone is almost sarcastic as you continue. “Good morning.” 

“Oh, honey.” Marcus said, quickly closing the door behind him before anyone could catch a glimpse of you sliding your blouse off. The dark, intricate lines inked into your skin caught his eye immediately but he didn’t let his gaze linger. 

He couldn’t lie - he had noticed the constant long-sleeved blouses and sweaters you wore, but didn’t pry. If you had something you wanted to hide from the world, Marcus was sure you would tell him when you were ready to. But now that he knew it was just what appeared to be some amazing tattoos, he was a bit confused. They were beautiful. Why would you want to hide them? 

You were obviously having a hard time. The hard set of your jaw and scrunched state of your eyebrows would have been enough to tell him that even if he wasn’t watching you try to clean the coffee from your skin with a pack of wet wipes. Your hair wasn’t tied back like it usually would. Instead it hung loose around your shoulders, falling in your face every now and then and making you huff in annoyance. 

Annoyed, sticky, and absolutely over the day, and you still looked god damn ethereal. How did he get so lucky?

“How can I help?” Marcus asked as he rounded your desk and you gave him a grateful smile. 

“Can you grab the extra shirt from the cupboard? Thank god I have a back up at least.” If there was one thing you could always count on, it was Marcus Pike being the best man on Earth. You smiled when he handed you the clean shirt before he began wiping your desk clean. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” Marcus tossed the soiled wipes into your trashcan, grinning and pumping his arm animatedly when they went in. What an adorable dork. He ran his hands up and down your biceps gently and you almost shivered at the warmth of his palms. “What happened?”

“Coffee has betrayed me at every turn this morning.” You pouted again as you leaned into his chest. The sight of Marcus staring down at you with that concerned, loving gaze made fluttering erupt in your belly. 

“So I suppose I shouldn’t ask if you want to get some with me for lunch, huh?” Marcus asked with that breathtaking mischievous smile and you couldn’t help but crack up at him. His thumbs rubbed circles into your skin and you glanced down, watching his fingertip run over the lines of your tattoo. You realized with a jolt that he had never seen them before. 

Your body art was something you loved - you didn’t spend endless hours in a chair getting stabbed with needles a million times for nothing. The dark swirls of ink were intricate, something that you used to be complimented on often. Until your ex came along, of course. It wasn’t as if you hid them from him. No, he was well aware that you had tattoos and planned to get more, so when he asked you to cover them up before going out one night you had been confused, and then pissed. 

Who the hell had he been to tell you to hide a part of yourself that you loved?

Those subtle requests morphed into small jabs and complaints. Over time, you began covering them by habit, trying to avoid the whole mess altogether. It wasn’t worth arguing about, you convinced yourself. Once he tried to convince you to get them removed? No, that was the last straw. Even though he wasn’t even a blip on your radar, you still found yourself keeping them covered, a small, insecure voice in your head warning you of a threat that was no longer there. 

You held your arm out, giving him silent permission to openly follow the linework, and Marcus took the opportunity with a smile. His touch was as gentle as ever, up and down your arm from piece to piece. “Sorry, I know they aren’t everyone’s cup of tea,”

“Do you like them?” The question catches you off guard but you nod immediately. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about their importance to you or their beauty. Marcus shrugged. “Nothing else matters then.”

Tension you hadn’t even realized you had been holding melted away from your chest. The way he looked at you… it was the same appreciation and intensity he reserved for the artwork obtained by the team, his gaze hungry for every detail he had the honor of seeing firsthand. 

“Do you like them?” You whispered, your curiosity getting the better of you. 

“They’re beautiful.” Marcus doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d love to hear the stories behind them, if there are any.”

“Yeah, there are a few.” You guided his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles before settling back on your arm, your chest thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. Marcus immediately began following the lines again and you chuckled. “You really like them, huh?”

“Honestly? I think they’re sexy.” Marcus murmured as he pulled you against his chest by your waist and you positively flushed. The image of Marcus’s tongue tracing your tattoos enveloped you unbiddenly. You bit back a groan - that man was going to be the death of you. 

You pressed up on your tiptoes and kissed him. The woes of your morning faded into the background at the delighted sound he gave against your lips, one hand abandoning your waist to hold you steady at your jaw. You draped your arms over his shoulders and lost yourself in his warmth, his comfort. There wasn’t a thing in this world that Marcus couldn’t make better with a few soft words and a gentle touch.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch42: Maybe Baby Part 2- Between The Toaster And The Fridge

Intro: Steve comes home to a very, special welcome…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N- More thanks to @angrybirdcr​

Chapter 42 Part 1​

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The recruits around Steve were laughing, and he had to smile himself. He’d just told them the story about how he had managed to get a flag down from the top of a pole once when he was training, right before he go the serum. He’d taken the pins out of the bottom of the pole causing it to crash to the floor where as everyone else had tried to climb it, including Gilmore Hodge. God, what a prick he had been.

“So, the moral of the story is just because it’s the path of least resistance, it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.” Steve looked around at the assembled team, smiling to himself as he repeated the words Natasha had once said to him, words he hadn’t agreed with in that circumstance but here, well, they fit.  “Consider each task on its own merit. Decide what your end goal is and then look for the simplest, safest and least strenuous way to achieve it. Conserve your energy for when there’s no other option open to you because that’s the time that you’ll truly need it.”

With that he nodded to Rhodey and moved to the side of the room, folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked at the assembled trainees. They seemed like a good bunch this lot, receptive to his advice and teaching which was an improvement on the lot he’d had a month or so back in Colorado. They’d been a nightmare and when they were awkward it made being away from his girls so much more of a chore. At least when they were like this, it made him feel like it was worthwhile. He took a few more questions, gave a bit more advice before they called it for the day and he headed back to his room to make sure he was packed, ready to head home the next afternoon. It had been three weeks this time, and whilst he’d spoken to Katie and Emmy every night it still didn’t make him feel any better at being away from them, even though he knew it was part and parcel of his job. 

It also wasn’t helping their baby-making plans either.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he smiled when he saw who it was. Flopping down on the bed he beamed at Katie.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey handsome.” she smiled, yawning slightly

“What you been up to?”

“Been busy with this Half Way Home proposal.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, Pepper’s giving it the once over before we send it into the Senate. I don’t think they’ll have an issue, I mean we’re not asking for funding but with them behind us it means the sale should go through easier.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned.” He smiled “Bet Natasha is pleased.” “Hmmm” Katie frowned. “She’s flown off again this evening.”

He groaned “Johannesburg?”

“Yeah.” she shrugged “She won’t give up. Says she owes it to Clint to try.”

“She’s on a hiding to nothing.” Steve sighed “I don’t know what she thinks she can do.” “Who knows, but if it makes her feel better who are we to argue. We’d do the same in her position.” And Steve had nothing else he could say on the matter, as he knew she was right. He had done the same, pretty much.

“Can’t want to get home tomorrow.” he changed the subject, smiling. “Three weeks apart isn’t exactly helpful on the whole trying-not-trying front is it?”

“Not really no.” Katie gave a soft laugh

Steve grinned cheekily “Every time I’ve jacked off in the shower I’ve had this horrible, guilty feeling that I could be washing a little me down the-“ “Oh my God!” Katie snorted as Steve laughed loudly, his right hand flying to his chest “You’re disgusting!”

“You love it!” he smirked, and she sighed and looked at him.

“I love you.” she said simply, and he could do nothing but grin stupidly back at the screen.

“Hi Jen!” Katie greeted as she walked up to the coffee counter, Emmy walking behind it like she owned the place, casually heading into the back to find Brooke.

“Hi!” Jen turned to her, “Usual?” “Erm, to be honest with you coffee isn’t what I’m after today.” she said “Had a disgusting hangover yesterday that I’m still recovering from so can I get a tea and one of those Danishes please?”

Jenifer chortled, “Take a seat I’ll bring it over and join you for a bit.” Katie smiled, paid for her drink and food and headed over to the comfy sofas by the window. Sinking into the well-worn leather she pulled out her phone and flicked through a few emails, pleased to see Pepper had proof read their proposal and made a few minor tweaks. She had just fired it off to her secretary to make the changes and forward on when Jennifer sat opposite her, pushing her food and drink over the table. Katie was that hungry she wolfed the pastry down in about four bits, before leaning back, wiping her fingers with a napkin.

“I think sugar and carbs maybe the way forward today” she laughed “I feel better already.”

“Why is it the older you get, the longer hangovers last?” the woman asked and Katie shrugged.

“Gone are the days I could sink shot after shot and still make it out unscathed.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea appreciatively “Being an adult sucks.” She spent a few hours at the coffee shop, leaving Emmy there after Jennifer had assured her it was ok for her to stay, before heading into the city to find Steve a gift. This year, four, was either fruit, flowers, linen or silk. Which was a random combination when you thought about it. But she found a really nice grey linen blazer that would suit Steve, and smirking to herself, bought a silk slip that she could wear to bed. Always nice to keep him on his toes as she had said last year.

She picked Emmy up and then stopped on the way home to fuel up the Camero, As she leaned against the side of the car, watching the numbers tick over on the pump, the smell of gasoline filled her nostrils, almost choking her and she was overcome with a wave of nausea and vomited straight onto the floor.

“Fucks sake.” she groaned, as she managed to compose herself, waiting for the feeling to subside. Thankfully Emmy was too engrossed in something on her phone to notice. Eventually, her stomach stopped flipping and she finished, paid and headed back to the Compound, wondering if she was coming down with a bug. But then, as she walked down the corridor with her bags the strong stench of bleach from one of the labs made her once again feel the need to hurl.  

Something clicked in her mind and she paused, suddenly feeling very hot.

“Hey.” Bruce looked at her as he appeared from the lab. “You alright? You look a bit pale.” “Yeah, fine.” she nodded, swallowing “Just remembered, I forgot to grab something. Emmy, can you take these up to the apartment and go straight to Nat? Bruce do you mind just…”

“No, course not.” He smiled, “In fact, I have something to show you Em. Remember that research I was doing into the…”

Katie didn’t stay to hear the rest, Emmy wandered off after Bruce chatting away, whilst she turned back the way she had come and hurried back to the car. 

***** Steve walked back into the apartment and was greeted by a whirl of sandy fur before Katie appeared hurriedly crossing the hallway to throw herself into his arms.

“Missed you.” He smiled, as he bent to give her a kiss.

“I missed you too.” she pouted, her hands fisting into his light blue button down “Three weeks is far too long, I don’t like it.” “I know, sorry baby.” he smiled “Where’s Emmy?”

“Nat’s” Katie said as she turned and headed back to the kitchen “I know it isn’t our anniversary until tomorrow but I wanted get you all to myself right away.”

“Yeah? Got something in mind?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nipping at her neck before he rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Yeah, feeding you.” she chuckled as his stomach gave a loud rumble “Hungry?” “I’m always hungry.” he pouted, his arms still wrapped tightly round her “Doesn’t help that whatever you’ve been baking smells so good.”

“Saffron buns.” She smiled and Steve let out a groan off delight as his stomach rumbled again “And seeing as you’re so keen to get your hands on one, can you get them out of the oven?” she nodded towards it and twisted away from his hold “I’m almost done with the rest of the food.”

Grumbling slightly at the loss of her warmth against his chest, he straightened up and pulled the metal and glass door open before he frowned. A single bun sat on the tray in the middle of the large oven. What was that about?

“Honey, what…” He turned to look at Katie who was stood behind him, biting her lip. He frowned, before he turned back to the bun in the…

Oh. Oh!

Steve spun round that fast he nearly fell over. Katie smiled at him, her eyes shining at the look of surprise on his handsome face.

“You’re - um. You - you’re…?” Steve couldn’t quite form his words. Katie smiled, as he swallowed hard “Katie…”

“Yeah. Although I think the correct term might be ‘we.’” 

“Sweetheart you…” he looked at his wife, not quite able to believe what she was saying “We’re, really having a baby?” “Yeah.” She nodded, sniffing slightly as she reached for him then with both hands, cupping his face in her fingers. “We are. You’re gonna be a daddy, Steve.”

“Shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh “I’m gonna be a daddy!” with that he pulled her into his arms and swung her up in the air, the same way he had done when she’d agreed to marry him, causing her to laugh before he gently brought her down again, her arms sliding around his neck as he set her on her feet, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“How far gone, do you know?” He asked, pulling back an inch. “Not sure. It can’t be that far but I have an appointment with the ob-gyn tomorrow morning. I wanted to make sure everything was okay after, you know…”

Steve glanced down at her stomach and moved his hand towards it, pausing.

“You don’t have to ask.” Katie smiled softly, taking his hand in hers and guiding it onto her stomach. Steve took a deep breath as his fingers splayed out gently across her belly under her palm, his face shining with pure unadulterated emotion as his eyes stayed focused on his hand.

He had never felt so happy or so alive in his life.

*****

A tiny blip. Nothing more than what looked like static brought tears to both their eyes as Dr Kellet pointed to the image.

“Well, Mrs Rogers” she smiled “from this I estimate you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant.” “Eight weeks?” Steve asked, as he did the maths in his head. Eight weeks took them back to the fourth of July, his birthday…

Katie grinned to herself as she felt Steve’s arms slide around her waist and his lips gently brushing on her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin.

“I’m trying to cook you lunch here.” she sighed as his hand worked beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skated into her underwear.

“Want me to stop?” he asked as her head fell back against his shoulder and she bit her lip.

“Didn’t say that.” she muttered as his fingers slipped further into her folds, finding her spot. His other hand slipped up her vest top and splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him further and she let out a soft squeak as he slipped one finger into her. He continued to work her, she was putty in his hands and eventually when he knew she was close he moved and spun her round, pulling her to him, his arousal pressing into her as he kissed her, hard, his hands cupping her cheeks as he backed her into the wall. Her hands strayed down to the buckle of his belt and she quickly undid it, wasting no time as she slipped her hand into his boxers, grasping him hard. He bucked at the touch and let out a hiss.

“Easy soldier.” she grinned into his mouth as he let out a groan, his hands dropping to her shorts. In a flash she was out of them and her underwear and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, back pressed against the kitchen wall.

“Shut up.” he mumbled, kissing her hard and she laughed into his mouth, a laugh that turned into a gasp as he pushed into her with no warning at all.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you doll.” He growled and her head rolled back, banging slightly on the light yellow painted wall. “Say that again.” she moaned.

He punctuated each word with a hard thrust “I’m…gonna…fuck…a…baby…into…you…” he purred, one hand resting by her head on the wall, the other snaking under her top and pulling down the cups of her bra. He rolled each nipple in turn between his thumb and forefinger leaving her grinding down against him for more friction as she kissed him again, hard, her gasps coming thick and fast as he rutted up, his hips snapping back and forth in a fast and deep rhythm. Steve let out a groan, his tongue sliding against hers sending the familiar red hot pokers of desire straight to his belly. His wife still managed to turn him on as much as the first time they’d ever been intimate together, despite there being what felt like a life time of ups and downs since then. If anything he was convinced that’s what made it better. He knew her body as well as he knew his own, every curve, every dip, every scar, blemish freckle and she knew his, each and every single inch of his skin, his limbs. Her hands grasped at his back, sliding up his t-shirt, nails raking down his skin, the stinging sensation causing him to grunt again as his rhythm picked up slightly, gaining momentum as he could feel himself going. “Come on, baby.” He muttered, his forehead pressed against hers “Wanna see you let go.”

“Stevie.” Her voice was a whisper, as her eyes fluttered closed for a second and he felt her thighs tighten around him, her mouth falling slack for a moment as her head tilted back. He moved the hand that was against the wall to her neck, holding her head in place and when her eyes opened again, those beautiful green orbs locked onto his she gave a low, sultry moan and he felt her walls tighten around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He mumbled as the strands in his stomach began to tighten “I love you, so much.” and with a final few snaps of his hips he came with a loud moan, his head falling to her shoulder, lips latching onto her neck as he thrust through his orgasm, before he stilled, both of them catching their breath.

Their baby had been conceived between the toaster and the fridge.

“So from that you’re estimated due date is the ninth April…” Dr Kellet smiled, tapping at something on her computer and then turning to gently wipe off the gel she had placed on Katie’s stomach. “So, do you have any questions?”

Of course Steve did. He spent a full thirty minutes drilling the woman about all the types of things Katie could and couldn’t do. Dr Kellet smiled, before she answered all of them, and some he hadn’t asked, in particular one about how sex was fine up until the birth if Katie was comfortable, warning him in fact that many pregnant women felt a spike in their libido in their second trimester. This caused Steve to flush and Katie to silently snigger.

“And lastly, I do hate to warn you about this as well but the term morning sickness, its bullshit. Should be called All Day Sickness”

“Tell me about it” Katie rolled her eyes. “Smells are the worst trigger.”

“Yeah, that’s very common.” the Dr Smiled “The good news is it should die down, if not go completely by about twenty weeks, but just keep yourself hydrated and rest up to avoid fatigue.”

“Thanks.” Katie smiled at her, “I’ll bear it in mind.”

As they walked back to the car, Steve’s arm curled round Katie’s shoulder and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her head. She smiled to herself, leaning into his touch as he gripped the scan photo they had been given with his other hand.

“I still can’t quite believe it.” He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the car keys. “I know.” Katie’s voice was little more than a whisper. Steve turned to face her, his hands linking at the bottom of her spine “I can’t wait to tell everyone.” “We’re not telling everyone until twelve weeks is up.” she said, shaking her head “Bar Tony, Natasha, and Emmy.”

“Now?” He grinned, and Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck.

“So impatient, Captain Badass.” She grinned as she leaned up to kiss him. “But yeah, let’s pay Tony a visit!”

Steve spent the entire forty-five minute journey grinning like an idiot, chatting about plans for nurseries and all sorts of stuff, he was incandescently excited. Katie simply let him go on, his happiness was infectious although she did at one point have to get him to pull over so she could vomit out of the passenger door.

Steve was out of the car like a shot and round to the other side, crouching down, his hand gently stroking Katie’s flushed cheek.

“You okay?” He asked, his face concerned as she reached for the bottle of water that was in the cup holder.

“Get used to this.” She groaned, laying her head back against the head rest.

As they walked up the driveway to the porch, Pepper spotted them immediately from where she was sat on a chair on the grass, Morgan happily led on her tummy on the tartan blanket. She greeted them as they approached and Morgan let out a loud shriek at the sound of their voices.

“Moo, you’ve gotten so big!” Steve smiled as he swept her up and she beamed back at him.

“Well you haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” Pepper chuckled, as Steve gently pulled faces at the infant, causing her to give him a huge smile. “They grow fast.” “You’re not kidding.” Steve mused and Katie smiled, unable to stop her heart blooming at the thought that he would be doing that soon enough with their own baby.

“Hey guys.” Tony smiled, walking out of the house and dropping onto a seat next to Pepper. “Not that it’s not nice to see you but we weren’t expecting you.” “Yeah, well, we err, have some news that we kinda wanted to tell you in person.” Katie glanced up at Steve as he gently placed Morgan back on the blanket and Katie sat on the wicker couch opposite her brother and Pepper, Steve perching on the arm next to her.

Pepper twigged immediately, smiling at Katie who grinned back.

“What’s the matter?” Tony frowned, “Are you sick? Is something wrong with the business?”

“Oh come on Tony, isn’t it obvious?” Pepper looked at him

“Errr no.” he frowned. “What-” he looked at his sister “-what’s supposed to be obvious?”

Katie glanced at Steve who gave her a grin before he turned and looked at his brother-in-law.

“You’re gonna be an uncle, Tony!” he smiled, dropping an arm round Katie’s shoulders.

Tony stared for a minute and then slapped his knees triumphantly, a huge grin breaking across his face. “You’re kidding me! Really? Really?” He leaned forward, intently scrutinizing Katie’s midsection until she tossed a throw pillow at his head. He dodged it, looked at her for a moment before he jumped up and swept her into an enormous hug. She stood up to greet him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Kiddo, that’s, wow, it’s awesome!” He spluttered.

“Thanks Tony.” She sniffed, stepping back as her brother reached up and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Guys, congratulations.” Pepper gave Steve a hug and then turned to Katie when Tony had finally released her, giving the younger woman a squeeze.  

“Wow, Baby America - you gonna dress him in star spangled diapers?” Tony paused, faltering, as he was shaking Steve’s hand. “Or her, or maybe one of each?”

“One of each?” Steve frowned.

“It isn’t twins.” Katie rolled her eyes

“You gonna find out what it is?” Pepper asked.

“I dunno we haven’t discussed it.”

“Wait, they can find out?” Steve frowned “They can find out what it is before it’s born?” Tony looked at Steve “Remind me how long you’ve been defrosted?”

“Tony.” Pepper warned him before she turned to Steve “Yes, Steve they can.” “But you guys didn’t?” He frowned. “We didn’t want to know.”  Tony shrugged, dropping a kiss onto the side of Pepper’s head before he clapped his hands together. “This causes for a celebration, only not you young lady.” He pointed at Katie and she rolled her eyes “Yes, beers.” he continued chunnering away to himself, heading back to the house.

“You two okay to watch Morgan?” Pepper asked gesturing to where Morgan lay on her back, legs wriggling furiously “Just keep an eye on her, anything she can get hold of she’s sticking in her mouth…”

The two of them nodded and sank back into the chairs and Steve dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, his arm curling round her shoulders as she snuggled into him, kicking off her shoes so she could swing her feet up onto the cushion besides her.

“Happy?” He asked.

“Ridiculously” she responded, giving him a soft kiss.

***** Later that night they broke their happy news to Emmy, only she didn’t react the way they had expected.

“So,” she looked down at her hands as her fingers twisted around one another, the way they always did when she was worried, “does this mean I need to pack my bags?” “What?” Katie frowned, “Why would us having a baby mean you need to pack your bags?” “Coz, well, you’ll have your own kid now.” she shrugged “Not like you’ll want me around.” Steve and Katie shared a look and Steve shook his head, dropping to his knees in front of the girl as Katie sat on the arm of the chair she was in.

“Of course we want you around.” Steve looked at the girl “Emmy, you’re part of our family now, and all this means is that our family is getting a bit bigger.”

Emmy looked up at Steve, her eyes shining with tears, before she looked at Katie, and melted into her arms as the woman gave her a hug.

“You have a home with us for as long as you want.” Katie pulled back, smiling “And besides,” she winked, “you’ll be our chief babysitter.”

Later that night, when she was getting changed for bed, Steve couldn’t help but just watch Katie as she moved around the bedroom in her sleep shorts and bra. The fact she was growing his baby just made her all the more beautiful to him, and when he couldn’t stand not touching her anymore, he threw his legs off the bed and moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she finished cleaning her teeth. One hand came to rest on her hip, while his other hand slipped down, palm spread protectively over her bare abdomen as he pressed tender kisses to her cheek and throat.

"I love you,” he whispered softly against her ear.

She leaned back against him, looking at the two - no, three of them in the mirror, her husband’s head bowed against hers, their child beneath his hand.

For once he fell asleep before Katie, and as she lay there, gently stroking the back of his neck she couldn’t help the immense happiness that overwhelmed her. Things were about to change, again, for them. But this time, it was a change they both welcomed.

**** Chapter 43

**Original Posting**

[mythgirlimagines]

As the creation of two calming waves crashing together, a calm ocean breeze is quickly birthed through them. And that calm ocean breeze is commonly known as Myth Anon, Former Ultimate Swimmer!

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BACKSTORY

Born to two happy owners of a beach house on a scenic and heart-rending beach, Myth knew how to swim, before she could even crawl, much like her older sisters before her. Upon entering middle school, she was encouraged to enter her school’s swim team and quickly became the star of the team. However, because she only likes to swim for fun, inner peace, and poetic inspiration, Myth eventually quit competing, but still managed to get enough coverage from the media to gain her Ultimate status. In her adult years, she is currently working part-time alongside her sisters at her parents’ beach house, and is currently studying to become a marine biologist, which she (unsurprisingly) turns out to be both very passionate and a veritable expert about.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Detective

Wyre and Myth have been only the best of friends ever since they were children and have met one faithful day on the beach. Although Wyre is also known for their criminal sketchworks and their skills as a physical enforcer/bodyguard, it’s Wyre‘s skills as a homicide detective that made Wyre gain their Ultimate status, that is still going strong (and even stronger) in their adult years. For the eternally scatterbrained and innocent swimmer, Wyre is usually around to watch over both her and her belongings and to prevent weirdos from trying anything funny with their friend. Myth really appreciates Wyre’s help in finding misplaced items and she just loves walking across the beach with them all the time.

Outfit: A brown overcoat and a light green and yellow striped vest and a black tie over a white button-up shirt, pants that match their overcoat, darker brown leather gloves and loafers.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Programmer

Famous for creating one of the first ever instances of self-sufficient, self-teaching, and ultimately benevolent AI (known by the code name “D-3M-0N”), Scar is also a big name in online role-playing groups, where she is known as “Mother-Board, the Master Technomancer”, a ruler of a tech-based science-fiction realm who is in charge of all the high-end technology in it. On particularly busy and sleepless nights, she can even be caught acting as Mother-Board herself. Because Myth lived in a tech-less beach house, she is absolutely clueless in the ways of modern technology, and that is where heroic Scar swoops in and tries her best to teach the swimmer the way of the computer.

Outfit: Messier hair that is done up in two messy side buns, a purple hoodie worn hood-up with black and white striped sleeves, a ruffled purple skirt, black and white striped stockings and purple boots, the mask from her original design.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Affluent Progeny

Despite only striking it rich very recently, Fusion’s business acumen helped expand his father’s failed company into a multi-million dollar industry and it also ensured that his noveau-riche parents’ finances would stay with them for a long time. He may get constantly underestimated by equally influential but longer-running business magnates, due to his situation and age. When not performing business operations, he loves gorging himself on lavish buffets and learning all he can from the massive library installed in his house. Upon entering the Kibo-Con, he began showering his fellow con-mates with lavish gifts. Needless to say, Myth really appreciated the life-sized plush walrus.

Outfit: Hair tied into a ponytail, a blue overcoat (that has a pocket watch in his right lapel) over a white button-up shirt, a pink vest, and a yellow and red striped tie, white gloves, pants that match his overcoat and the glasses and loafers from his original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Moral Compass

Fusion II attended a school with a rather high rate of delinquency, and, by the time she left for Hope’s Peak, all instances of delinquency have diminished in an instant. Claiming that she became a public moral committee because “you can‘t break the law, if you are the law” and ”I just want power”, Fusion II wishes to rise to the top of the corporate ladder and become like the rich magnates that she idolised so much, all to prove to her classmates that she is so much more than just a mousy little overachiever. Myth may not understand the moral compass’s dreams and ideals, but anyone who praises Myth’s mindset and thought process (read: actually unread sarcasm) must be a good person in her book.

Outfit: Fake reading glasses, a grey blazer over a white button-up shirt and a light blue and dark blue striped tie, a red armband indicating her position, a long skirt that matches her tie, black stockings and brown Mary Janes.

Just Anon, Ultimate Fanfiction Author

With a sparse and sporadic uploading schedule, Janon’s (or as he is known online, ”JustInThisForFun”) fans and followers commonly refer to the times he actually bothers to upload one of his fica as “Random-Time Rapture”, for you could never really predict when he will upload a fic, but anyone who reads his fanfiction would know that they are veritable masterpieces that can almost match the quality of the original works. Despite their differing temperaments, Myth and Janon love to relax together and introduce entirely new ways of relaxing to each other. Myth’s suggestions of relaxing on a particularly warm rock and lying face-up in the Con’s fountain are Janon’s two new favorite relaxation methods.

Outfit: Same outfit as the original, but with a bandolier of pens and other writing supplies.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Baseball Player

Considered a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to both Little and Major League Baseball, Sparkle catapulted her all-girl’s softball team (called The Shimmering Meteors) into stardom, with both her skills in the sport and her bombastic and dramatic personality, when on the diamond. Despite both being pioneers in women’s athletics, Sparkle and Myth‘s personalities and philosophies couldn’t be any more different, much to the confusion of the two girls. While the loud yet intelligent Sparkle plays mainly for the glory and thrill of competition, the calm yet ditzy Myth only swims for fun and for poetic inspiration. Sparkle and Myth just can’t comprehend each other’s athletic philosophies and motives.

Outfit: Hair in a bobcut, orange and pink sports jacket with her team’s logo on the back (and matching hat on her head) over a black and white baseball uniform, black cleats and a sparkly pink bandana around her neck.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Idol, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Fashionista

With their twin as their loyal costume designer in tow, Egg takes in to the stage with such cursed songs as, “Deodorant Push-Pop” and “Discord DM Detonator”, which have garnered quite the cult following online, and quickly became one of the most infamous idols in show business, thanks to their song’s subject matter, as well as being one of the few ever NB idols. Egg and Wet Sock regularly love to antagonise Myth, but thanks to her ditzy and unaware nature, any and all cursed comments uttered by the twins would either be unintentionally ignored, giggled at and agreed to, or even getting used in one of Myth’s poems much to the ire of the duo who live off of attention, positive or otherwise.

Egg’s Outfit: A garishly covered fedora, a t-shirt with a cursed meme on the front, green and red striped upside-down pants, pink crocs.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: Hair over one of their eyes, pink eyeshadow, a black hoodie with white fluff, tight jeans, white and black converses.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Clairvoyant

Raised in a family that are all experts in supernatural powers, Curious stands out amongst the rest of their family with their clairvoyance powers being far above that of any other ancestor before them. This caused the fortune-telling booth that was passed down from Curious’s parents to them to skyrocket in popularity, and earn Curious a free spot in the Hope’s Peak Middle School roster as the “Jr. Ultimate Clairvoyant”. As a lover of the spiritual herself, Myth found herself fascinated by Curious’s powers, and Curious was all too happy to show off and teach the awestruck swimmer all about their powers. But than again, one could ask Curious to do anything, and they’d do it without hesitation.

Outfit: A green and off-white kimono with a red obi, brown prayer beads around their neck, white socks and brown geta sandals.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Soldier

Born and raised in a territory that was eventually wracked by the spoils of war, Nerd was drafted into his cruel nation’s army, thanks to a combination of his natural anger-induced strength and his natural talent in piloting, repairing and even inventing war weapons and machinery. All the time spent combating both potential and certain threats made him constantly hostile and quick to anger, even in his adult years, when the war was long over. Taking sympathy on her fellow chaperone, Myth decided to teach Nerd all sorts of relaxation techniques (that mostly just involve wading or lying in water), but to no avail, for Nerd has feelings for someone that he would much rather blast with his scouter (read: Myth).

Outfit: A black suit of armor with built-in-weapons and the scouter from his original design.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Novelist

Under the pen name “R.C. Wells” (because he doesn’t want evil corporate executives to trace his location), Eldritch particularly specialises in dystopian novels that seek to expose the real world for the apocalyptic wasteland that it‘ll become, if the sheep (read: his audience) remain oblivious to all the horrors of the world they’re living in. Despite Eldritch’s blatant dislike and constant insulting of his audience, he only has the best of intentions for the world, and he thinks that the written word is the best way to combat against the propaganda in the media. Needless to say, Myth‘s relaxation tactics doesn’t exactly sit well with the constantly-worried novelist, so he avoids her like the plague.

Outfit: Reading glasses, a pencil behind his ear, a brown overcoat over a white dress shirt and a red tie, dark brown pants and matching shoes.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Gambler

Despite what her age and her childish personality would suggest, Dream is a veritable genius, when it comes to turning the odds to her favor, and winning boatloads of money at the gambling tables and betting on sports. Dream is infamously referred to, by her foes, as “Lady Luck’s Lovechild”, for her seemingly supernatural ability to make luck fall into her favor and guarantee her automatic wins, against otherwise dangerous odds. Just like with Curious, Myth found herself fascinated with Dream’s supernatural luck-changing powers and likes to sneak under the gambling tables and watch Dream gamble to uncover her secret, much to the embarrassment of the gambler.

Outfit: A grey and white fedora and pantsuit with card suit-themed buttons, a pink undershirt and heels.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Martial Artist

As current heiress to the Ryuseitai Martial Art’s Dojo, despite what her clumsiness and regular slip-ups suggest, Iris is regarded by martial artists everywhere as a prodigy in combat, who is able to take down foes that are at least a foot taller than her. Iris is also quite the excellent instructor, teaching her elementary-aged students all about mindfulness and positive thinking, which helps breed a brand new generation of strong martial artists. Because of their shared interest in mindfulness and odd philosophies, Iris gets along very well with Myth, who has a similar nature to her, and they have regular meditation sessions underneath a waterfall hidden in the forest behind the Kibo-Con.

Outfit: Hair tied into two Sailor-Moon-esque buns, a pink gi with a big purple star on the front and back, pink sandals, bandages all over her body, the hoodie from her original design tied around her waist.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Lucky Student

Being from one of the more wealthy families in her neighbourhood, Purple was signed up to Hope’s Peak’s annual Lucky Student raffle by her parents, and her supernatural luck meant that she was the lucky girl selected to attend. Because Purple was sheltered a lot, she is very timid and regularly speaks in old-fashioned and archaic terms. Because of a majority of these qualities, Myth and Purple get along very well, thanks to their shared interest in writing poetry, and Myth’s fascination with both Purple’s supernatural luck powers and her odd mode of speech, which sounds much like her own. Whenever they get together, hardly anyone can tell what the two girls are saying.

Outfit: The original outfit, but without the beret and a four-leaf-clover pinned to her sweater.

Watch as this oddball swimmer either befriends or baffles the people around her!

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PERSONALITY

Needless to say, Swimmer!Myth is one hard-to-read swimmer, for she has quite the odd thought process and an equally eccentric vocabulary, often speaking in odd poetic terms about water or marine life, and always searches for inspiration for her poetry. Swimmer!Myth also has a strong love for the supernatural, and can usually be seen learning about and getting in touch with her calm and spiritual side, if she’s not swimming or lying back-up in shallow bodies of water. Swimmer!Myth also gets easily distracted, and regularly wanders off, requiring a buddy to help ground her back to Earth (read: Detective!Wyre). Swimmer!Myth is also heavily empathetic, and, in spite of being an athlete, actually hates competition, which is why she dropped out of being an Olympic-level competitive swimmer years ago, and she really treasures her loved ones.

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APPEARANCE

Swimmmer!Myth has long and wavy brown hair with a French braid tieback, that she can put up in a ponytail while swimming, and blue swimming goggles on her head. Swimmer!Myth swims practically all the time, and her simplistic outfit reflects that perfectly. She wears a pink, blue, and purple wetsuit with blue frills on her sides, a pink translucent shawl and a seashell necklace around her neck, along with purple flip-flops on her feet.

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Now that I’m finished with this AU, I’d love to hear your opinions on the talentswap! In the meantime, look out for more content made by your’s truly!

-Fusion Anon

[noonachronicles]

The End of the F**king World Pt. 3

Byun Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death. 

Genre: Apocalyptic/Alien Invasion AU. Slow Burn (ish?). One pining pup and one idiot in denial to eventual lovers.

A/N: To anyone who has been waiting, thank you for your patience!

It was raining as you made your way down the empty street. It should have felt far more strange to you. Usually when it rained the streets were flooded with Lurkers who were protected by the cloud coverage. However you didn’t find it strange at all. In fact you were quite calm, as if everything was normal. It also didn’t seem strange to you that the sky was dark red. The whole city showered in a red orange hue. The rain that filled the streets flowed like blood. The buildings all stood tall and intact like they had before the invasion. The windows in the shops had all been replaced or perhaps had never broken out, it was hard for you to be sure. And yet none of this felt wrong.

Turning the corner onto a familiar intersection your heart started to race but you kept going like you had somewhere to be. The rain grew heavier as you reached your destination. When you opened the door to the record store a tiny bell above the frame announced your arrival. As you stepped inside you noticed it was different, the shelving had all been pushed to the sides and there was a single, dark wood table in the center of the room.

On the table was a record player that was giving off a crackling sound. Stepping closer you realized that the record was spinning but the needle hadn’t been placed properly. Reaching out your hand you adjusted the needle and the record started up. Your forehead creased in confusion as At Last began to play. The longer you stood and listened the more apparent it became that you were being watched.

“I’m glad you came.”

Your eyes lifted to the dark shadows at the back of the shop and you watched as Baddie appeared before you. Reaching your hand down to your leg you found your knives were missing.

“You left so quickly before. We didn’t even get a chance to talk.”

He looked different than he had before. It felt like maybe he’d dressed up for you. Instead of battle worn clothes like everyone else he wore a sharp, black suit. Shiny pointed dress boots were visible under a nice pair of black slacks and, in keeping with the theme, he wore a black turtleneck under a black blazer. The only color was a bright yellow pocket square tucked in his blazer.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You said watching him closely as he stepped closer, slowly making his way towards you.

“Where are your friends?”

“I don’t know.” Your head hurt, “I can’t remember.”

“You mean they left you here all alone?”

You shook your head, “They wouldn’t do that.”

“You sound so certain.”

You inched yourself around the table and away from him, but he just continued to follow you. “Who are you? What are you?”

“Who would you like me to be?” He asked with a chuckle.

“No one.” You whispered. Stepping back once more you felt your back press against the wall.  “Where’s my family?”

“Your family. Is that who you love the most?”

“Do you know where they are?”

He was so close now you couldn’t even breathe. The sheer veil was still draped over his nose, covering the lower half of his face. You’d wondered for a while how he got it to stay. This close to him you could see clearly that the tule like fabrice was lined with a silver chain that hooked over his ears. The others had been right, there didn’t seem to be anything worth hiding, from what you could see under the veil. There were no scars or scales, no missing chunks of flesh or signs of disfiguration at all. Just a pair of plump, pink lips that were getting too close for your comfort.

“There’s a light,” he leaned in until the veil over his lips brushed your ear, his breath was ice cold on your skin. “and it never goes out.”

“What does that mean?” you were trembling.

“I want you to bring me a gift now.” You cringed as he moved his hands over your skin. He held your hand and placed something cold and heavy against your palm, when you looked down you saw a flashlight. “Bring me the ones you love the most. If you do I’ll give you something in return.”

“No. They’re safer away from you.” you glared up at him “And there’s nothing I want from you, unless you mean to leave this place.”

He only smirked. “If you make me find them myself, I’ll kill all of them. Slowly, so it hurts.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides at the thought, “I-“

“Changed your mind?” He laughed, “Good girl. Go now, you’re wasting my time and yours.”

When you went back out onto the street the rain had stopped but now it was the dead of night. The red sky was replaced with stars that sparkled like the diamonds you used to sell. It was still deserted outside which you were grateful for as you didn't have any weapons. You walked around not really knowing where you were going or what he meant. There’s a light and it never goes out. It meant nothing to you with the city so dark and quiet. There wasn’t a single light in view. It felt like too much time was passing but still you kept moving. Then, as you reached City Center, you saw it. On the top floor of the tallest building was a light that shined so bright against the black night sky it looked like a beacon.

Your heartbeat quickened. If there was someone there, maybe you didn't have to take them back to him. You could just run. You and whoever you found could just leave the city together. Inside the building the marble floors were clean like they’d just been washed when they should have been covered in dirt and debri. An elevator door opened to you as you stepped before it and without a second thought you moved inside. The doors shut but there weren’t any buttons for you to push. There was the slightest jolt and you felt the elevator start its steady ascent. As you stood there with just the light of the flashlight you held, you could hear through the speakers as At Last continued to play here as well.

When you reached the top floor you could see the light on in the corner office. You made your way cautiously across the floor and towards the room. It should have felt too easy. As you got closer you noticed several people lined up on the ground. You picked up your pace then until you were in the room. It was your family with their hands tied behind their backs and gags in their mouths. Dropping to your knees you pulled the gags from Baekhyun and Seulgi.

“Leave.” Seulgi begged as you reached for Irene and Chanyeol. “Get out of here.”

“Not without you.” You said as you leaned around her and started to pull at the mass of knots at her wrists.

“It’s a fucking trap.” She snapped in frustration, “You have to leave.”

“She’s right, y/n.” Baekhyun agreed. He was calm, like he’d long since accepted his fate. “Get out of here. Go as far away as you can.”

“No!” You argued, tearing the skin on your fingers on their ropes. You wished you had your knives.  “I won’t leave you.”

“She’s got nothing if she doesn’t have you.” Turning around you saw Baddie leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t that right? These are the ones that mean the most to you. That’s why you brought them here for me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said quietly, keeping your body as a shield in front of the others as best you could. “I didn’t bring anyone anywhere.”

He smiled as he looked down at you, “Now we just have to find out who the most important one is.”

“Don’t react. Don’t give him what he wants.” Baekhyun whispered behind you.

Grabbing the collar of your jacket Baddie lifted you to your feet and shoved you towards the desk. Your sweaty palms slid across the wood and papers and a cup of pens had been pushed to the floor with a crash. Trying your best, you steeled your nerves before turning towards him. Hands clasped behind his back he was walking the front of the line, eyeing your loved ones curiously. Then he moved behind them and watched for your reaction as he lifted a single glowing palm above their heads one by one.

“Who do you love the most?” He asked with a grin. Your whole body shook as he placed his hand over Irene’s head, “Is it this one?”

Using every ounce of strength you had you steadied yourself. His hand illuminated with its white light. It was a simple snap of his fingers, that’s all it took. And then suddenly where Irene once knelt there was only a pile of dust. The same kind that was left after he’d killed Hyunwoo. You knew you should try to do as Baekhyun said, you should try not to give him what he wanted but you winced at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Open your eyes.” Baddie said sternly. “You have to watch. It’s important.”

This time he was standing behind Chanyeol. Baddie watched you for a reaction and you tried not to give him one. Chanyeol had his eyes closed, the look on his face was peaceful.

“Maybe it’s this one.” You watched helplessly as he snapped his fingers over his head.

Your hand flew to your mouth to stifle a sob. The agony on Seulgi’s face only made everything hurt that much more. The urge to go to her, to hold her and comfort her was overwhelming, but Baekhyun subtly shook his head as he looked up at you.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, tears flowing down your cheeks in a steady stream, “What do you want from me?”

“I have to know who you love the most.”

“Why? What does it matter?”

“I’ll tell you later.” He laughed and placed his hands over both Seulgi and Baekhyun. “Now, is it the best friend or the boyfriend?”

“He’s not…” you shook your head, “He's not my boyfriend.”

“It wasn’t that one was it?” Baddie asked, gesturing towards where Chanyeol had been. “I mean you were sad but hardly in love. Couldn’t have been the one from earlier, could it? You were pretty upset about the golden boy. The way you screamed, it was like a song from heaven.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you want but I’m really not the girl you’re going to get it from.”

He laughed at that, “Are you one of those sad loveless girls? One of the broken.”

“I won’t give you what you want.” You muttered.

“You think you are. I’ve found the ones that think they have no love to give, those are the ones that have the most to offer. Now...” Baddie smirked, and moved his hand over Seulgi. “I have a theory. Shall we test it?”

At the snap of his fingers you felt every ounce of air leave your lungs. Your legs gave out and you fell to the office floor. Your screams echoed through all of the emptiness. It was hard to see through the tears that burned your eyes but you could see him raise his hand over Baekhyun’s head.

“Yes, I think my theory is correct. I think I saved the best for last. Don’t you?”

“Wait!” you screamed.

“Yes?”

“Wait, wait, just wait a minute!” You begged as you wiped at your face with shaky hands. “Just wait. Please, just wait!”

Baddie looked down at you expectantly, his hand gently petting the top of Baekhyun’s head. You crawled over to them. Shoving Baddie’s arm away, you wrapped your arms around Baekhyun’s shoulders protectively, holding his head to your chest.

“Kill me instead.” You offered quietly. “Please.”

“Why would I want you dead?”

“Fine then!” You gasped out a breath. “What do you want? Just tell me what you want. I’ll do anything!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He chuckled, “You’ve already given me everything I wanted.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My gift to you, is that both of you go together.” He offered, “Unless you’d like to watch him go, and stay with me.”

“No, I won’t stay.” You shook your head. Baekhyun untucked himself from your arms and looked up at you. You weren’t sure what to say. “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Look at me.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

You cupped his cheeks in your palms, your noses brushed together. “It’s my fault, Baek. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” His eyes were as bright and caring as ever, like he really believed with his whole heart that everything would be fine. “Just close your eyes.” He lifted his neck and pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. In a whisper he said. “Close your eyes.”

Above your head you could hear the buzz from Baddies hand as it began to glow white. You did as you were told and you closed your eyes.

Before you were blasted into space dust you jolted awake with a gasp, your whole body trembling. Safely on your cot in the Cordially basement. The dream was already seeping from your memory. You were losing what had happened but you knew it was painful. Sweat dripped down your face and your chest felt sore from having to gasp for air and your pounding heart. You jumped slightly when you realized you weren’t alone.

“Wh-What are you doing?” You asked as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position.  

Baekhyun was kneeling beside your bed with his lantern at his side. He looked so worried you couldn’t help but soften, “You were having a nightmare. You kept screaming.”

Looking over you noticed the others standing at the opening in your sheet, each one looking exhausted and equally concerned.

“Oh my god.” You covered your reddening face with your hands. “I’m so sorry you guys. Please go back to bed. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay long as you’re okay.” Irene said with a pitying smile, you knew that she knew the feeling.

“I’m okay. God, I’m so sorry.”

It felt like you were burning up with shame as you watched Chanyeol and Seulgi say good night and then duck away with Irene behind them. Baekhyun stood up but he didn’t leave. Instead he grabbed something that was next to his lantern and sat down next to you on your bed like he had just a few hours ago when he brought you the batteries.

“Here,” he offered you a damp towel that he’d been holding and a bottle of water. “You were sweating pretty bad. I was trying to cool you down with the wet towel.”

“Thanks.” You sighed, taking the towel and using it on your chest and neck before gulping down half the bottle of water. “That’s so embarrassing.”.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He tried to comfort you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You know you don’t always have to be fine, right?” He asked seriously, “You witnessed something terrible.”

You shook your head, “We’ve all witnessed terrible things. I’m not special, Baek. Name one person left that hasn’t seen something horrible.”

“I’m just saying no one would think you're weak if you allowed yourself a chance to feel things. You can’t keep it inside all the time.”

“Don’t do that.” You looked down at your lap, unable to meet his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Don’t be nice to me.”

He sighed a little shakily like he was nervous, “I’m gonna do something. Don’t kill me, okay?”

You looked over at him curiously and watched as he leaned in and wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a hug. For a second you weren’t sure what to do, like you’d forgotten what affection was.

“What are you doing?” You muttered into his chest.

“I’m hugging you.”

Sitting there you wondered when the last time you’d been held like this was. Even Seulgi’s hugs didn’t ever last this long. They weren’t as tight or as intentional. Your body eased out of its feeling of discomfort into something else. It felt like you were breaking, the pressure of his embrace causing little cracks inside of you. It wasn’t the worst feeling, it was actually relieving. A tiny gasp escaped your lips and you pushed your face into his chest.

“You’re alright.” He hushed gently against the top of your head as you cried. His hand rubbed circles over your back. “Let it out.”

It felt like everything you’d kept in for the last few years was spilling from you. It had been so much for so long that you worried the tears wouldn’t be able to stop. A dam had burst and you didn’t know how to stop it. Baekhyun didn’t say anything and he didn’t seem concerned that you would cry forever. He just let you keep going. He kept his arms firmly around you and about halfway through you allowed yourself to wrap your arms around him in return. Eventually you wore yourself down and were able to stop crying. Once you finally did and your head felt clear, you weren’t sure what to do next. You didn’t do anything, you just stayed there with your cheek pressed into his shoulder.

“Was it bad?” He whispered, loosening his hold on you “The nightmare?”

Shrugging you answered, “Honestly, I don’t remember it. I just remember being sad and scared.”

“Do you feel better now, at least?”

“Yeah.” You whispered and leaned away from him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Realizing your arms were still around his waist, you pulled back, “Sorry.”

He laughed quietly, “It’s fine. Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?”

“I don’t know if I want to.” You sighed. “I may not remember what happened, but I know I don’t want it to happen again.”

“You have to get some sleep.” It was quiet for a moment and then he said, “If you think it will help, I can stay with you.”

“You would do that?”

He nodded, “I did the same thing for Irene in the beginning, when she was having nightmares.”

You had to think about it for a second but then you remembered he had. He spent almost that whole first month by her side, humming her songs until she fell asleep and taking care of her when she inevitably woke up screaming in terror.

After that Irene had an obvious thing for Baekhyun for a while. Her advances on him weren’t even subtle but even when everyone else saw it he just never seemed to notice. It surprised both her, and you honestly, that he never did anything with it. Once she was sleeping through the night he went back to his bed like it was nothing, like nothing had ever happened. For months afterwards she continued to make passes at him but it was like he was immune. For him she was just someone who’d needed his help and that was that.

It just seemed weird to you. At that point the sheer terror had seemed to wear down and everyone in the Community had turned towards the booze, sex, and blow portion of their ‘End of the World’ fear processing. Everyone was hooking up with everyone else, in general being reckless, and fearing nothing because why the hell not? Eventually Irene got bored putting so much effort into something that was apparently never happening and moved on. You forgot it happened at all, so it seemed.

You sighed again, too exhausted in every sense to fight it. To fight him. “Yeah, okay.”

He took the towel and water bottle from where you had dropped them on the bed and moved them to the floor before turning off his lantern. You pushed yourself closer to the wall that your cot was against to give him the space to lay down. Then you tucked yourself in beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“See, you should have just let me sleep in here when I tried to earlier.” He said quietly. You could hear the smug undertone and groaned in response.

Laying there for a few minutes with your eyes closed, you tried but couldn’t quite get to sleep. It took you awhile but you realized that he wasn’t humming like he had for Irene and you’d been expecting him too. You let out several heavy sighs and even cleared your throat with no response before finally dropping your heel heavily on his shin.

“Ow!” He hissed in the dark, “If you want something from me you could just ask.”

“Why aren’t you humming?” You whispered, “You hummed for Irene.”

“Aw, Y/n, that is precious. You want me to hum for you.” He was glad it was dark so you couldn’t catch the way he blushed. “I’ll do it but you have to tell me how much you love me first.”

“I don’t need it that bad.” You muttered against his chest.

“Fine. I won’t make you say it now, but you should know it's gonna happen.”

“I’m so sure.” You offered sarcastically.

It was silent for a moment as he thought to himself and then he started to hum something soft and slow that sounded familiar but you were unable to place. You could feel the vibrations from his chest on your cheek and closed your eyes. From there it took mere seconds and you were back to sleep.

-

“Why are we still here? We should leave the city! Now!”

“And go where?”

“We’re as good as dead.”

“We can go to the farm.”

“You assume they’re even still alive!”

“Do we even know where he is?”

“They’ll never take all of us, they’ve already said as much.”

“It’s different now!”

“Well we can’t stay here.”

The sound of the members of the Community quarreling was worrisome to you. All it would take was a whisper of it to get to Baddie and he’d have all of you gathered like sheep for the slaughter. Even though you knew you should speak up you were too tired, and everyone was too on edge to even listen to anyone else so it wouldn’t have done you any good.

The meeting didn’t even get started until well after noon, it took most of the Familys much longer than they expected to arrive. You’d all taken extra precautions to get to the amphitheater, staying low, keeping your eyes on the lookout and taking the longer ways around rather than using shortcuts. What normally took maybe twenty minutes had taken nearly two hours for some.

Unable to hold back you let out a massive yawn. Taemin, who hadn’t left your side from the second you arrived, pulled you closer. His arms wrapped around you like a terrified child clinging to a parent. Rubbing your hand over his back you looked over at Chanyeol as he sat in the center with Taeyong, Jihyo, Solar, Hanbin, and Seungcheol. Hyunwoo, obviously lost, and Hongjoon was one of the missing.

Though they looked tired and stressed beyond comparison, they remained diligent leaders. At least they tried to as they listened to muddled arguings of everyone’s concerns and suggestions. All of them except Chanyeol. You could see the cogs turning in his mind. You could tell he had something up his sleeve, he usually did. However, you could also see he was nervous and was playing out scenarios in his head. You’d watched him do it plenty of times to know that’s what was happening.

“Can everyone please…Please!” Hanbin shouted in frustration. “Stop talking over one another. We’re only hearing half of the ideas from half of you. We’re getting nowhere. Show some restraint so we can figure this out.”

Everyone grew quiet then. Hanbin never got heated so for him to lash out made most of the group cower a little in shame. You looked at Taeyong who raised his hand slowly.

“Do you have something?” Solar asked.

“No…” he looked at Chanyeol, “I want to know what Yeol has been thinking.”

A wave of murmurs passed through the group, everyone seemed in agreement. When he finally raised his gaze from the hands in his lap, Chanyeol looked surprised to see that there was a group of people there and that they were all watching him.

“Chanyeol…” Solar looked over at him expectantly, “What should we do?”

He chewed on his lip for a long while as the group remained quiet and waited patiently to hear his big idea. Then shook his head, “We should stay. We should fight.”

The entire group seemed to have lost it and the arguing started back up again in full. Chanyeol nodded, like he knew that his opinion would be received that way. You watched as he stood up and away from the other leaders. As you listened to the arguments happening around you it seemed that the group was about half and half. Some people were ready to risk it all, others were sure that there had to be a better way but had no real solution.

You gave Taemin a gentle pat on his back, kissed his forehead, and stood up before making your way over to where Chanyeol had gone. He was sitting down on one of the steps a few yards away from the group. His forehead was creased in aggressive concentration. He didn’t react when you came up or when you sat down beside him. For a few minutes you didn’t even say anything. It was obvious he was tense.

“Yeol.” You finally offered quietly, “You know I’d follow you anywhere, do anything for you… but staying? Fighting? It’s a suicide mission.”

“Maybe not.” He sounded convinced.  

“We have watched countless cities try to fight against him and all of them have failed. What makes you think we’ll be any different?” You asked genuinely.

“We have us.” He said simply. “We can do this. We can end it.”

“You really believe that.” It wasn’t a question, it was an observation.

“I really do.” He looked over to you, “I need you to believe it too, Y/n. It’s the only way most of them will get behind it. You know that.”

You scoffed, “I’m not as powerful as you think I am. You’re the leader they look to. Not me.”

He shook his head, “You’re more powerful than you think you are. Taemin? He’s not doing anything you don’t agree to. That also means Jongin is out unless you’re in. Sehun? Baekhyun. Baekho. Yeri. Seulgi. Irene… you can get the numbers.”

“Seulgi?” You laughed, “Please. She’d walk straight into hell as long as you held her hand.”

“No,” he argued, “If I said one thing and you said another she wouldn’t agree with me. She would just try talking me into agreeing with you, and she’d likely succeed.”

“Well, Baekhyun would have your back.” You said skeptically, “You’re his best friend.”

“If we test that theory and I’m right...will you back me?” He asked seriously.

Truthfully, you were always going to do whatever Chanyeol thought was best but you did think it might be interesting to see if he was right. You couldn’t imagine a universe where Baekhyun didn’t back Chanyeol. Best friends since they were babies, they were basically brothers at this point. Even before the invasion Baekhyun hung onto Chanyeol’s every word like he was a prophet anointed by God himself.  So maybe Baekhyun had some tiny crush on you… surely it wasn’t enough to make an impact strong enough to change that.

You nodded in agreement, “Yes.”  

Wasting no time at all he called out to his best friend. Baekhyun looked up from where he was talking to a group of a few others. Chanyeol beckoned him over and you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for him. He squatted down in front of the step you both were sitting on. You listened as Chanyeol explained the plan and reasoning to Baekhyun in full.

While you listened you realized he wasn’t entirely insane for believing it could be done. Either that or it was one of those just so crazy it might work situations. From watching the recordings from other rebellions, and you knew he’d done plenty of that, Chanyeol had learned two key things.

The first was that no one had found the proper weapon to use on Baddie. Which was true, everytime he was shot at or stabbed he would typically be recovered from the injury in seconds flat. What benefitted you was that there were enough of you who were trained with weapons of all sorts and Sehun had an entire arsenal stockpiled. Chanyeol figured something had to work. There had to be something in his collection that would stick. The way he put it, even Superman had a weakness.

The second thing he talked about was how every city had tried to fight but they had all been so reckless and unorganized. It seemed no one put any thought into how they would attack. It was usually last minute and everyone would come at Baddie from the same direction in a front attack. He thought if you could figure out the best location to get him surrounded, Baddie could be lured there. Certainly, if you did it right, he couldn’t withstand all of you at once. And maybe, even if you couldn’t find exactly the right weapon, if he had sustained enough damage all at the same time he wouldn’t be able to recover.

“...anyway, that’s what I think we should do and why I think it’ll work.” Chanyeol finished, “What do you think, Baek? Would you be in?”

Baekhyun looked down at his feet and bit at his lip nervously. After a beat he looked up at Chanyeol’s expectant face and then over to your attempt at a neutral one.

“It does make sense. I mean, it’s fucking terrifying to imagine but it doesn’t seem impossible. In theory it would be like fighting the final boss in multiplayer. If you work together he sustains more damage quicker and recovery is harder.” He sighed heavily. “Ultimately, we really only have two options, right? Fight or flight.”

“So you’re in?” You asked curiously.

“No?” He said quickly and then flushed as he looked at Chanyeol, “I’m not not in. I just don’t know. It’s a big decision. It could be the last one any of us makes. I’m not sure if I’m ready to just give it all up.”

“You have to pick something, Baek.”

He looked back over to you, “Well...what do you think we should do?”

“I think if we do nothing then we die.” You muttered, “If we do this we still die, it’s just sooner. If we’re dead we lose the option of being able to come up with what could have been the best plan.”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun nodded, “She’s right, maybe there’s something else we could try.”

“So you wouldn’t back my plan?”

Baekhyun shrugged, “I just think we should take a little more time to think about all of our options.”

Chanyeol looked over at you, you could see the hint of smugness on his face. Your mouth was slightly agape in surprise. You really hadn’t believed he’d side with you over Chanyeol.

“Maybe Yeol is right.” You sighed. “I think it’s our best bet. We shouldn’t just wait around to die, we should take control of the situation.”

“You’re sure?” Baekhyun asked, “We could always brainstorm or...”

“No.” You shook your head, ”I mean, yeah, we probably still die. But if we don’t? If we don’t die that means we won. But that’s the only way we win, you know? If we don’t do this, we’re basically just waiting for him to kill us. We have to try.”

“Then we should do it.” Baekhyun agreed.

Chanyeol just smirked over at you. “Alright let’s take it back to the group for a real vote.”

You watched, still stunned, as Baekhyun stood up and went back to the group. Chanyeol looked over at you, probably expecting a pat on the back for being right, but you just rolled your eyes.

“Don’t say it.” You groaned.

“Say what?” He laughed, “That I told you so?”

-

Chanyeol had been right, he usually was. At first the group had been skeptical of his plan, even after he had explained to everyone why he thought it would work. Once you had endorsed his proposition though the agreements came in a ripple effect. Taemin was the first, then Jongin and Sehun. Then on and on until there were only three who still didn’t want to take part in the fight. As a group, you didn’t want anyone there who wasn’t prepared to do whatever it took so you agreed to let them leave the city and try their luck at the Farm.

It felt like hours worth of discussion but in the end the whole Community had generated what you considered a pretty decent plan. The fight would go down in an intersection of Quad Four. It was one of the larger intersections in the city and you all sort of imagined having space to move around would be beneficial. There were also several alleyways for hiding. It’s best quality was that it was only a handful of blocks away from where Sehun's family stayed. Which meant it was only a handful of blocks away from where he kept his arsonal and you wouldn’t all have to lug a bunch of weapons too far.  

Once the plan was mostly set you all had realized it was going to get dark in a few hours. Taeyong, who was the leader of Sehun’s family, offered up their homebase as a rendezvous spot for the rest of the families. Wanting to make sure you didn’t miss any opportunities you agreed to take the time before sundown to go back to your home bases and grab any weapons you had and anything else you thought might be beneficial for the fight. Then you’d have to make your way cautiously to Quad Four. Taking extra precautions to make sure that you weren’t being followed or watched. Leading Baddie to the rendezvous would end the fight before it even started.

To make it a little easier you told Taemin and Jongin to head back with the rest of the Quad Four family. You said that you could make a quick run to the church they stayed in and grab any essentials you saw before meeting up with your family for the trip to rendezvous. Chanyeol only agreed with half of your plan. He said you were right that they should head to rendezvous immediately, but he wasn’t going to let you go to the church alone. You’d go as a family.

St. John's Roman Catholic Cathedral was quite literally the oldest building left standing in the entire city. Centuries old, everyone had been surprised it withstood the attack without crumbling to dust. Sometimes you wondered if it was that old school architecture that had actually kept it standing. Hyunwoo and the boys had blocked off a lot of the building, not really needing much with just the three of them. They had access to a single restroom, the chapel, and a small kitchen.

Originally they had about thirty people in their family alone. They used up every square foot of that church. Then one night there was a massacre, a handful of Lurkers had gotten in through an entrance in the back that hadn’t been properly secured after lights. After that they didn’t really need the extra space, and that hadn’t really wanted the reminder of the people that had been lost. So your family and the family from Seven spent about a week helping the three of them clean up, re-secure their homebase, and turn it into something a little more maintainable.    

Their beds were set up in the naive overlooked by the altar that had remained untouched. The one thing that hadn’t made it through, which you thought was pretty sad, was the epic stained glass windows. The apse had been about three stories high, with nine panels of the most amazing stained glass you’d ever seen in your life. You didn’t even go to the church itself, but even people who never prayed a day in their life came to see the stained glass windows in the cathedral. It just couldn’t withstand the original hit, and had smashed to thousands of jagged pieces. The openings had been boarded up with the old pews that had been smashed up, the remaining pieces had been used for firewood at one point, if you remembered correctly.

Chanyeol and Seulgi had gone to bag up the weapons that had been hidden in the confessionals, and Irene had gone to grab any good from the kitchen. Across from you Baekhyun was searching through Taemin and Jongin’s bunks, trying to remember exactly what things they had requested he bring them.

You stood over Hyunwoo’s bed with a gulp. There was a knife on top of an overturned crate that you guess he used as a nightstand. It was laying on top of a book next to a used up stub of a candle. You weren’t sure what to do but you knew you didn’t really feel comfortable going through his things. With a sigh you reached for the knife, you knew at least you could use that.

Pulling your hand back you accidentally dragged the book with the knife and it fell open on the ground. Pocketing the knife you sat down on his bed and picked up the book. There was a folded up paper that had fallen out, which you’d guessed had been keeping his spot. When you opened it you realized it was a letter you’d written him like a year and a half ago just to say thank you for all the things he’d helped you with. It surprised you, you didn’t think it would have meant enough to him for him to have saved it.

“I’m so sorry.” you muttered before closing the book and putting it back on the crate.

Without really thinking about it you grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled it up to your face. It still smelled like him, part of you knew it would. Part of you wanted to inhale his scent one more time. A warm mix of sandalwood and honey. Immediately your mind flashed to the way he looked sitting in his chair, basking in the afternoon sun, smiling up at you so sweetly. Your breath caught in your throat and you tried to keep the tears that rimmed the edges of your eyes from falling. That was it. That sting in your chest was exactly why you could never let your guard down. You could never open yourself up to someone. You’d only allowed yourself to think about Hyunwoo as something more than a friend maybe once or twice and you still felt a little broken by the loss of him. 

“You okay?”

Looking up you saw Baekhyun chewing nervously on his lip, though you couldn’t imagine what he was so worried about. With a sniff you stood up and nodded.

“Having the time of my life.”

“Yeol says we have to get going before it gets too late.”    

You sighed, “Well… let’s not keep him waiting.”

Chanyeol was in a hurry after the church, and rightfully so, you were losing daylight pretty quickly. By the time you got back to Cordially and were packed and ready to go with your essentials you had maybe an hour, tops, to get as far as you could before nightfall. It was possible to move around at night but it was going to be hard with five of you. Before leaving Cordially you and Chanyeol had decided to try and get to Crowleys before dark and from there you’d decide on the next steps of your plan.

Crowleys was a department store in the bottom half of Quad Six. It was a two story building made almost entirely out of glass, except for the occasional steel beam. The reason it worked so well for your purposes was that you weren’t too familiar with Quad Six. None of you knew which buildings were usually clear and which ones were most dangerous. However, because it was made of glass and showered in sunlight all day long, you knew for sure that Crowleys would be safe. At least long enough for you to figure out what to do next.

The family was getting pretty close, you’d been moving around the outskirts of the city as much as possible, assuming that Baddie would stick to the more condensed City Center. All of you had been pretty quiet for most of the walk, just wanting to get as far as you could as fast as you could. As you reached a stretch of old warehouses and industrial buildings you found yourself distracted by the view. Just past the buildings there was a clear view of the mountains in the background and the sun was inching closer towards them with every block you passed. The sunset was turning the sky red and you weren’t sure why it seemed so familiar.

“Hey, Y/n,” Baekhyun said from behind you, as you turned there was a quick flash of light and a “Smile.”

“What is that?” You asked as your eyes refocused on him.

“Camera.” He said simply holding up a Polaroid with a grin. “I found it yesterday during scavenging. It’ll be easier to use than my 35mm for fun stuff.”

“Fun stuff?” with a light scoff you held your hand out to him and he eyed it cautiously.  “Well, let me see.”

“Promise not to destroy it.”

After a quick roll of your eyes you agreed and he handed it over. As you looked down at it the photo continued to develop in your hand. Your hair was blurry as it flipped over your shoulder and there was a look of genuine surprise on your face. The longer you looked at the picture the longer you realized you could barely even recognize yourself anymore. The woman in the photo was a stranger.

You’d been ready to crumple the picture when Baekhyun grabbed your wrist, “You promised.”

“It sucks, Baek. It’s a bad picture.”

“It’s not.” He said and snatched it from your fingers.

“You didn’t even see it yet.” You grumbled as he tucked it in the chest pocket of his jacket.

“I’ll take another one, if that will make you happier.” He suggested.

“Why would that make me happier?”

He smirked, “I just figured you could fix your hair or whatever you were mad about with the other one.”

“No amount of time or effort could fix this.” You said and gestured towards your face and body in general.

“Yeah, that’s true.” Your eyes widened, surprised at how quickly he agreed. Then he followed with “You can’t fix something that’s already perfect.”

“Oh god…” It took you a beat but when you figured it out you couldn’t help but laugh. A blush even warmed your cheeks, “You’re so dumb.”

Another flash from the camera hit your smiling face and Baekhyun just shrugged, looking pleased with himself. He stuck that picture in his pocket before he even looked at it too. “You should also consider that I’m a genius.”

You were going to argue with him but it was then that you heard Chanyeol’s telltale whistle. When you flipped around you could see him a few yards away looking at the both of you, eyes wide and brows raised like a frustrated father impatiently waiting for his children. He didn’t have to say anything, the two of you immediately started making your way to catch up with the group.

“What do you take pictures for anyway?” You asked Baekhyun as you started walking.

“For posterity.” He answered as he tucked the camera safely into his backpack.

“Yeah, but what’s the point? We could all be dead by tomorrow. Then it was all for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing. It’s given me purpose for the last few years.” He said quietly, “At first it was just the journals, deciding what stuff was important enough to go in them. Then I found the camera shop. The cameras, the film, and the books. It started to be about setting up my own dark room and then teaching myself how to develop my own pictures and documenting all of the things and people we might want to remember. Even if we die and no one ever sees all the work I did, that’s fine. It gave me something fun and positive to focus on every day so that my life wasn’t just an endless loop of waking up in the morning and killing Lurkers.”

“You mean like mine has been…” you chewed on your lip realizing that’s exactly what your life had been the last three years. Mindlessly killing handfuls of alien creatures day after day until it was second nature. No wonder you were so jaded.

“That’s not all your life has been.”

“Sure it has.”

He shook his head. “You have the record shop and your tapes. You are always committing acts of kindness, even if you try your absolute hardest to pretend like you’re heartless. I bet you can tell me at least one way to make everyone in the community happy. Whether it’s bringing Taemin candy every week or starting that book club to spend more time with Irene because you knew she was lonely. You always find different packs of playing cards for Seungcheol during your scavenges because you know he collects them. You know these things because you care and you pay attention to people’s love languages. And you are constantly learning whether it’s tech from Yeol or security from Sehun or medical from Seulgi. You think you don’t have a thing to give you purpose because you don’t. You have a bunch of things.”

You flushed, always surprised that he knew so much more about you than you did. “Yeah… maybe.”

“Not maybe. Definitely. You forget I keep very diligent notes on everyone. I have the proof if you want to see it.” He grinned, “You’ll thank me in the future when you can prove to your kids what a badass you are.”

You scoffed out a laugh immediately, “What makes you think I have a future at all let alone one with kids?”

“What makes you think you don’t?”

“I don’t know, maybe our impending deaths?”

Irene, who’d been listening in on conversation since she heard her name, turned around and started to walk backwards. There was a smirk on her lips when she asked, “Who do you think she’ll be having these hypothetical kids with, Baekie?”

He flushed at the question but you weren’t really paying attention. You had removed yourself from the conversation, busy eyeing the alleyway you were walking past. It was getting really dark now and it made you nervous. You could move around at night pretty stealthy as an individual but being in a group was far more concerning. You needed to get to Crowleys.

“I…” he didn’t know what to say. He knew who he imagined you having children with but there was no way he would actually say it out loud.

“I mean there’s only so many people left, surely there has to be someone you were thinking of?” Irene pushed with a hint of amusement.

Her teasing wasn’t exactly malicious, it was only that at this point everyone but you, it seemed, knew he was in love with you. They were all just waiting for him to actually tell you. They tried to help him when they could by dropping hints. Chanyeol looked over his shoulder to join the conversation. Baekhyun looked at him wide eyed. Pleading with his best friend, wordlessly, for an assist.

“Doesn’t matter who,” Chanyeol shrugged, “whoever it is, Y/n’s kids will be terrifying.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You asked, head snapping back towards the group. You’d heard that.

“Convince me that the first thing you’d teach your kid as soon as it had any sort of comprehension skills wouldn’t be weapons or self defense.” He said, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah I’m going to teach my kid survival skills!” You said in your own defense.

Chanyeol laughed, “Raise of hands, who thinks it’s appropriate to teach a five year old how to set a snare trap?”

You raised your arm above your head immediately and slowly dropped it back to your side when you realized you were the only one who had. “Okay, fine. Don’t teach your kid how to acquire food when they’re alone outside of the city. If teaching them about zoo animals and shapes is your priority, that's on you.”

“Why the hell is your five year old kid wandering alone outside of the city?” Irene laughed.

“Obviously I’m dead.”

She followed up with, “You assume that we wouldn’t take over caring for your child if you died?”

In the most deadpan manner you said, “If I’m dead, you’ve all been dead for weeks.”

Walking ahead of you, Seulgi snorted out a laugh so hard you were pretty sure some snot escaped. It was more funny to her than to anyone else because though you were joking, she knew you well enough to know that you believed it was true too. She wouldn’t even disagree with it, she knew you’d survive longer than anyone left in the entire Community.

She’d known you like the back of her hand before all of this happened, and she’d watched all the ways you changed over the last three years. You were a hardened version of yourself. You took things too seriously and forgot how to let yourself just be happy. Sometimes it worried her but she knew that the more human side of you was still tucked in there somewhere. It was really well protected but she held onto the hope that someone might break through to it.

Covering her mouth in an attempt to keep quiet she continued to laugh for a minute or two before containing herself. You couldn’t help but laugh along with her. When she recovered she turned to look at you with incredible fondness. “You are a treasure and I love you so much. Do you know that?”

“If you didn’t get my humor, Seul…” you sighed, throwing your arm over her shoulder in a half hug, “What would the point even be?”

“That’s what best friends are for.” she said wrapping her arm around your waist.

-

As night fell maneuvering through the streets became more and more difficult. Lurkers moved around the city en masse looking for humans. As the number of humans to hunt lessened severely they had even started to fight each other. By the time you reached the Crowleys building there were already small packs of them already mobile. You had to watch your every step. Their eyesight was horrendous but their hearing made up for it by ten.

The five of you had been stuck in an alleyway across from the front of the building. There had been two groups of Lurkers searching nearby buildings and keeping eyes on the street. There was enough coverage that you could have made it, but what worried you and Chanyeol was that the sidewalk in front of the doors was scattered with bits of broken glass and pebbles. You knew stepping on the debri would be enough of a sound to catch their attention. It was already dark, the only light you had available to you being offered up by the moon above.

You were seconds from losing hope completely and suggesting you try your luck in the building you were propped up against. Then Chanyeol locked eyes with you and pointed to a spot sidelong from where you were. There were two groups of Lurkers that had found interest in the same building. It was clear they were agitated with one another. They were seconds from a fight that would only serve to benefit you. If they were fighting then that would give you the opening to make it into the building. They wouldn’t hear you over their own screeching.

Chanyeol tapped the knife at your thigh and looked at you questioningly before mouthing, “Can you?”

It wasn’t the ideal conditions but you were pretty sure you could manage to hit one of them. You nodded, pulling one of the knives from the holster. Silently you circulated the plan and made sure everyone was ready to go once it was done. The fighting would attract more Lurkers than were already there. You would have a window but it wouldn’t last forever. As carefully as you could you stood up and into position.

Closing your eyes for just a moment you took a deep breath and then let your blade fly. The silver slashed through the shoulder of a Lurker, it wasn’t much but it was enough. The beast turned, swatting the one directly behind it into the brickwall of the building. Then they were off, both groups screeching and clawing at one another in a flurry of rage and chaos. With Chanyeol at the lead and you taking the back all five of you maneuvered behind abandoned vehicles and traffic barricades until you made it into the Crowley building unscathed.

Catering mostly to women, the first department was their main attraction. Jewelry, purses and perfumes. Tucked safely between a display of Chanel bags and Marc Jacobs perfume, you all sat for a moment to breathe.

“So…” Seulgi looked between you and Chanyeol, “Do we stay or do we try and go further?”

It was hard to feel comfortable moving on when just getting this far was enough of a struggle. It also felt like it was a waste to quit so early in the night having gotten next to nowhere. It was a tough call and truthfully one you were happy to let Chanyeol make without you.

“I think behind this building there’s that alley that will take us all the way up to Three. If we can just make it there, I’m sure we can find somewhere safe for the night and get some sleep. Then in the morning it’s just straight across to two and through to one and back down to four. It’s stressful, I know, but I think we’ll be okay. Alleys are usually pretty clear, maybe one or two Lurkers at most. I have plenty of arrows, and Y/N has her knives...”  

“How’s your ankle?” you asked looking over at Irene.

You could tell she was hurting but she wouldn’t admit it. You wouldn’t have either. No one ever wanted to be the weak link. No one wanted to be the reason a group got held back or stuck in a dangerous situation. Even if it meant going miles on a sprained ankle without complaint.

She shrugged, “I’ll be fine.”

“As long as she thinks she’s good to go, I’m in.” you said quietly.

Seulgi agreed and then so did Baekhyun. Then it was back to business. The plan was to make your way through to the department on the other side of the building which was catered to men. Clothes on one side and other male centric paraphernalia, like tools and fishing supplies on the other side. The problem was that there had been a major collapse. Part of the ceiling and a whole wall. There wasn’t a way through so instead you’d have to go up and over.

You climbed up the out of commision escalator to the second floor. Home and kitchen to the right, kids clothes and toys to the left. The group was quiet as you made your way through the store, keeping a look out for any solo Lurkers. Your hand ran over a bread maker longingly. The way you dreamt about fresh bread was borderline embarrassing. It had been months since the last time you’d had any. They usually made some at the Farm but they didn’t send much of it with the crew, maybe a loaf at most which was usually devoured by the time they got back to the city. Since you were never sent on runs you never saw any. Baekhyun had brought you a chunk back on one of the last runs he’d been on. It was sourdough and you had cried as you held it on your tongue.

“Yeol!” Baekhyun hissed through the dark.

Looking up from the bread maker you watched him quickly maneuver through the store. Apparently he’d gotten lost in the kids section, unsurprising to any of you, and was trying to make his way back to the group.

“Look, Yeol!” he hissed again. Chanyeol finally heard his friend and turned around. Baekhyun, wide eyed and enthusiastic, lifted a child’s sized Bane mask to his mouth and in his best impression he said, “You merely adopted the Lurker invasion. I was born into it, molded by it.”

“Where’d you find that?” Chanyeol laughed quietly.

“Bunch of kids costumes over there. Here, be Batman.” he said as he tossed a plastic mask into the air.

Everyone else froze as the mask arched through the air a little too high. If Chanyeol couldn’t catch it, it was going to hit a display of wedding china. It might do nothing, but it also might send the entire display crashing down to the ground attracting every single Lurker from outside. Luckily Chanyeol hadn’t froze and he had absurdly long arms. He jumped, just barely, and caught one of the bat ears between two fingers. There was a collective sigh of relief.

“Sorry guys…” Baekhyun said quietly, flush with shame.

“You’re one lucky moron.” Chanyeol laughed as he slipped the mask onto his head.

He swung around to keep going, not realizing how close he’d gotten to a display of wine glasses. His backpack slammed against the edge of the table sending the glassware tumbling to the ground. No one moved. All of you just waited. It took maybe a second but then it was there, the rumble of a stampede from the floor below.

“Hide!” Chanyeol yelled and the five of you scattered.

Near the back wall there was a long display table covered in stand mixers. Sprinting towards it you looked over to the escalator where you could see the first of the Lurkers. Dropping to the ground you skidded to the back wall before crawling under the table. All of your focus went to calming down your breathing until it was soundless. It was a trick you’d learned pretty early on. Anyone that didn’t had died.

As the room filled up around you with the twisted, scaly legs of the Lurkers you realized you didn’t see where a single other person had ended up. You hadn’t planned for this. Were you supposed to wait until sunrise? Hope that the Lurkers would lose interest and leave on their own? Were the others making a plan to escape?

Ultimately you guessed that all you could do was wait. The idea of being alone was a little crushing but if you had to you would just sit quietly and wait for the sun. Then if by morning you really were alone you would just head to rendezvous, certain that you’d find your family there.  Luckily you didn’t have to wait too long for an answer. Between several sets of Lurker legs you could see movement across from you. It was Irene. When she had your attention she pointed you towards the escalators that you’d come up from.

You moved slowly and silently against the back wall, passed the legs of the Lurkers. The closer you got to the escalators the fewer Lurkers there were as they had all congregated near where the glass had broken. Sneaking behind displays and underneath tables you made your way near the escalators where you found Chanyeol. He was ducked behind a pile of oversized teddy bears. When he saw you he signaled for you to wait. You could see Seulgi already making her way slowly down the escalator. Irene was across from you, she’d be next. Checking over the pile of bears Chanyeol watched the Lurkers to make sure that nothing had changed before beckoning Irene forward. She moved quickly and low to the ground. As she made her way down to the first floor you realized you hadn’t seen Baekhyun yet. Looking back to Chanyeol he was waving you forward and you hurried over to hide behind the bears with him.

“Where’s Baekhyun?” You whispered, “Did he go down first?”

Chanyeol shook his head, “I haven’t seen him.”

“We’re just supposed to leave him?” Your heart started racing in your chest but you tried to stay calm. “He has a gun, Yeol…he can’t defend himself without attracting more attention.”

“He has a knife too.”

With a great exaggeration to make up for the groan you couldn’t allow yourself to release, you rolled your eyes. “Chanyeol…”

“We have to get out of here.” Chanyeol whispered sternly, “It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. As soon as we’re outside I’m going to shoot off the flair I have. The hoard will leave and head towards the light and sound. That gives Baek and the rest of us the chance to get away from here. If we don’t catch him outside, he’ll meet us at the rendezvous tomorrow.”

Closing your eyes you took a deep calming breath. As far as you could see you only had one option. Opening your eyes you looked back at Chanyeol. “Go. I’ll stay here. I’ll find him and make sure he makes it out okay.”

“I can’t let you do that.” Chanyeol shook his head immediately.

“She’ll forgive you.” You whispered knowing he didn’t want to go back on his promise to Seulgi. “Please, just go make sure she’s safe. No one should be left alone.”

He reached for the flare gun at his side, “Fine, you take the gun. You take care of those two. I will find him and then we’ll catch up with you down the alley.”

“Chanyeol.” You said quietly grabbing his cheeks in your hands, “You know I can do this. They need you more than me. Irene won’t last forever on her ankle. Seul’s going to need your help.”

“Fuck.” He groaned in defeat. Both of you knew once your mind was set on something it was pointless to try and change it. “If you get so much as a paper cut she will kill me. So if I die just know I’m haunting you for the rest of your life.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders in a quick hug, “Tell them I love them and we’ll see you soon.”

“I kind of wish I could see his face when he realizes you stayed back for him.”

“Anyone would have done it.” You rolled your eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” He said with a half smile, “but I love you. Be careful.”

“Love you too.”

Then you watched as Chanyeol made his way down the broken escalator the same way the others had. When you could no longer see even the top of his head you tucked yourself between the giant bears and waited. You kept your eyes on the windows that showed the dark, clear sky out front. It was only a few minutes until you heard the piercing whistle of the flare gun going off, and then you could see the bright red light shoot up into the sky and explode.

It was a matter of seconds after just the sound of the whistle that you could feel the shake of the ground beneath you as the hoard of Lurkers took off. You stayed still and silent as they hurried past you on either side and then down the escalators. They clamoured over one another just to get outside in their rush. Once it seemed they’d all disappeared you waited just a couple more minutes in case of stragglers then stood up slowly, careful not to knock into anything. As cautiously as you could you made your way back through the store to try and find Baekhyun.

“Baek!” You hissed as quietly as possible, “Idiot! Where are you?”

After what felt like too long you found yourself back to where you’d started. The pile of destroyed wine glasses. The pieces crunched a little too loudly under your feet so you paused for a moment.

“Come on, Baek.” You muttered to yourself.

There was just enough movement in the corner of your eye to catch your attention. You turned toward the toy section and your eyes grew wide.

“I swear to god… if you went back to the toys…” you hissed and stepped towards the movement with another crunch.

“Don’t move!” Baekhyun’s voice came as a whisper from behind you.

Turning just your head over your shoulder you could see Baekhyun standing a few yards away with his hunting knife at his side. He looked fear stricken and it didn’t take you too long to realize why. If he was there, and you knew everyone else was gone, that meant whatever had been by the toys wasn't anything good.

When the clicking started your whole body tensed. You turned your head back around to see the Lurker step onto the glass that surrounded you with a crunch. It hissed and clicked as it bent it’s face down towards the sound. Curious, it moved closer to you. You knew you couldn’t do anything. Even grabbing your blade would be too risky so all you could do was wait and hope it would get bored and wander off. Normally you’d expect Baekhyun to maybe toss something across the room to grab its attention but you genuinely hoped he wasn’t that stupid. Knowing that if he threw the wrong thing or it landed poorly it could just cause another stampede. You’d just have to be as quiet as possible and wait.

As the Lurker moved directly in front of you, you held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut. You could feel the scalding hot air it was breathing out as it moved over your body. Trying not to move made your muscles ache, and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking at your sides. It was too close. If it decided to reach out and touch you it would realize what you were and it would be over. Suddenly it was like your whole life flashed in front of you and you were disappointed by the ache of regret that you felt.

Then you heard another crunch of glass. Your eyes shot open at the sound. The Lurker and you were face to face, and the beast was breathing onto you. You tried not to gag at the smell, it reeked of rot and blood. For a second you could see Baekhyun behind the Lurker.

“Close your eyes.” You could hear him whisper and just before you did you watched the Lurker open it’s mouth to let out its shrill warning shriek.

However the sound never came. Instead there was a squelching sound that made the hair on your arms stand on end followed by a soft shower of something wet and warm against your face.

“Don’t let him fall!” Baekhyun said in a quiet panic.

Opening your eyes again you watched as the Lurker, with its head hanging limply to the side, started to fall towards the table with the plates. You threw your arms out and caught the massive beast. Baekhyun quickly tucked his blade away and helped you lower the dead Lurker to the ground.

“Are you okay?” He asked looking up at your blood splattered face.

You weren’t sure what to say. You weren’t sure you were breathing. Your chest felt tight and your head was growing incredibly fuzzy. “I-“

“Hey, Y/n, are you okay?” He asked again, but this time he sounded miles away. “We have to get out of here.”

You tried your best to respond. You wanted to nod, to agree, to say something. You needed to get out of there. Instead his face grew blurry and then everything went black.

When you came to it felt like you’d only been out for a couple seconds tops. You heard Baekhyun before you found the strength to open your eyes.

“Wake up.” He was whispering. His forehead was pressed against your arm. “Please wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”

With a groan you opened your eyes. You had no idea where you were but tried to sit up.

“Careful.” he said quietly as he helped you into a sitting position.

“Where are we?” You asked, trying to get your bearings in the dark.

“We’re still in the store. I found a dressing room.” As soon as he said it you could see it. The long narrow mirror on the wall, the small bench. The hooks all over the place. “You blacked out. I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up, but I had to get us out of there, it was too open. It’s been almost an hour. I think we should stay here until morning.”

You nodded, “Smart.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” You said and looked up at him, “I really am, I promise. I think I just freaked out. I don’t remember the last time I was that close to one.”

“Drink some water.” He said twisting the lid off a bottle and handing it over to you.

Sitting down on the floor with Baekhyun, you sipped on the water he’d given you. Your hands shook as you watched him pull a bandana from his backpack and grab a second bottle of water. He dumped water from the bottle on the bandana before turning back to you.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered.

Once you did you could feel the wet cloth against your cheek as he cleaned the Lurker blood off your face. It was quiet for a few minutes as he worked to clean your face of the gooey substance. You tried not to imagine the up close face of the Lurker every time you closed your eyes. Instead you thought about your current situation and you laughed. It was just quiet little half laughs.

“What’s so funny?” He asked as he finished up cleaning off your neck.

“You were right. You don’t need me.” You tried not to laugh any harder than you were but it was difficult with how stupid you felt. “I only made things worse trying to help.”

“Is that why you didn’t just leave with the others?” He asked as he finally pulled his hand back. “You thought I needed help?”

“Sort of.” You shrugged as you blinked open your eyes. Then looking at him you sighed. “Actually no, not really. I guess I just didn’t want you to be alone. I know I wouldn’t have wanted to be alone.”

He grinned and lifted his empty hand back up to your face to push away any loose bits of hair. “Thank you.”

“What…” you sniffed, “You aren’t gonna yell at me again?”

“Why would I yell at you?”

“For staying. For thinking you might need me. I mean… need my help or whatever.”  

With a small laugh he shook his head, “No. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asked.

He looked at you for a moment and you thought he might say something serious. You were terrified he might confess he loved you. Or tell you he preferred to be with you than without you. Something totally cheesy and very typical of him that you wouldn’t know how to respond to.

Instead what he ended up saying was, “Because you’ll make a good pillow or maybe a human shield...just in case.”

You may have rolled your eyes but he got you. You laughed, a smile growing on your face. “So stupid.”

“Dang, how many times did I get you to smile today? I think I might have hit a record.”

“Mm, whatever.” You sighed, “We should try and sleep. Get up early. Find our friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Shifts?” You asked.

“Nah, I think we’re safe. Just make sure you don’t snore.” You lifted your middle finger in front of your sweetly smiling face and he laughed, “Classy.”

You pulled your Walkman from your backpack and put an earbud in your ear. Opening the player you checked the tape to make sure it was rewound and got ready to lay down. Looking over you watched as Baekhyun shimmied out of his jacket and rolled it into a ball before handing it over to you.

“What’s this?”

“Pillow.” He shrugged.

“Why don’t you use it for yourself?” You asked handing it back to him.

“Uh,” he looked at you like you were crazy. “I already told you…I’m using you as a pillow.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. I just saved your life. I think I’ve earned it.”

With a deeply unsatisfied roll of your eyes you laid down and shoved the jacket under your head. Baekhyun sat looking down at you for a moment wondering if you were really going to let him get away with it. With a sigh you gestured to your body, welcoming him to use it. His smile was bigger than ever as he laid down next to you and rested his head against your chest.

You pressed play on your tape player. The Best of The Smiths. Pretty depressing, but decent for falling asleep to. After a song or two had passed you pulled the loose earbud down and offered it to Baekhyun. For a second you thought he’d been asleep but he reached his fingers to yours and took it. Once another song or two had passed you could feel yourself slipping into sleep.

“I like this one.” Baekhyun said quietly as you both listened to Morrissey’s pleas to get what he wanted for once. “Can you play it again?”

You hit the rewind button, waited for a moment and then let it play. You caught the tail end of the song before but the one he’d wanted started soon after.

Subconsciously you dropped your hand down to his head and ran your fingers through the soft thick of his hair.  Baekhyun’s arm tightened around you just slightly and your eyes fell heavy as you listened to the soft melody and as the gentle request repeated itself once more, So please please please let me, let me, let me. Let me get what I want this time.  And then you let yourself slip into the comfort of sleep.

[se7enforse7en]

NBTM | One — Nothing Like This

☾ synopsis : Love and tragedy has always had a way of being connected, that connection usually held by the red string of fate. A red string that destined two soulmates to be bound for eternity. No matter the circumstances, fate would tie two individuals to meet, to not disrupt their long awaited destiny. In the world of more than five billion people, the red string had made it’s mark plenty of times, going back to perhaps the start of it. The folktale disappeared into obscurity & into believer’s hearts. In the lives of fourteen individuals in the 21st century, their lives seem to be an unfinished puzzle. Some strangers, some friends. Some blissful, others tragic. All unaware of the soon-to-be outcome years in the making. They’ll find it to be entrancingly painful. The red string of fate wasn’t just pretty.

☾ pairing : jinyoung x fem!oc

☾ genre : drama, romance, angst ??

☾ warnings : strong language, rambling from an ass author (I had to), kinda ooc jinyoung, very much angst ur honor, e2l

☾ parts : one / two / three / four / five

HWAN JIHYE HAS NEVER FULLY LOVED COFFEE. She’s always detested the bitterness that came with the caffeine overload. However, she did favor the caramel that awaited her at the bottom. They blended almost perfectly. Yes, almost, and in the case of today, it’s an even truer statement. The barista that had continued to stare at her barely put in any caramel, much to her distaste. She’s not sure if he was that distracted or found her tip not plentiful enough. She had given him a short glare in annoyance but took the drink gladly. She was agitated about her specific taste and felt like continuing her day, rather than demand another drink be made. She wasn’t that petty. At least not today.

And now, she’s hesitantly drinking a barely sweet coffee whilst considering her schedule for the day.

Jihye barely ever has an uneventful day. As a long standing painter of Hwan Studios, she’s their resident artist. Her schedule consists of tactful meetings and whatnot, her stern demeanor present in every single one of them. Her hands are her tools, not her face. She begins to recount it in her head, her hand reaching for her phone in her expensive purse. It’s black exterior is soft as it’s insides are of smooth velvet. She finds it within seconds. There’s already dozens of notifications blowing up her phone, most of them being from numerous emails and a semi regrettable group chat. She also disliked and liked it. She didn’t like the constant messaging and nagging of her phone but it’s nice to text everyone for most. They’re part of a previous project’s team. She had essentially saved their project, which earned them all a bit of credit. She put a message or two amongst the hellhole of a cluttered group chat.

She figured she’d entertain the idea of being in their chat, seeing as they all could use some improvement on their own. She is conveniently too busy for trivial things they converse about, anyways. The initial project was introduced to her by a certain auburn haired stunt man. While not not extraordinary in it’s fruit, it has it’s beneficial product elsewhere.

Clearing it away, she goes directly to her calendar, a cumulative meeting of everything she’ll ever do. She’s punctual in her timing. Her brain is refreshed, suddenly noting that CEO Min wanted her to attend some meeting with an entertainment company. She remembers how she previously brushed it off with indifference, having been warned that they were no good. ‘Don’t work with them’ this and ‘They’re amateurs’ that. Both being from the head of the company, no less. She sighs, leaving it to be nothing else than a confusing statement. She sips on the not-so-sweet liquid. She savors the tiny bits of caramel her mouth musters from the flimsy straw. .

Next, would be the aggravating dinner she’d have with a CEO she could only describe as ‘crusty’. A friend of the blasted CEO, he is. She despises the usual ones. Y’know, the disgusting creeps who just happen to be greedy sons of bitches. But that would be a lesson she could eloquently describe to the higher ups when they actually give a damn about decency. “Damned pig” she huffs under her breath.

As she walks, her eyes become stuck to the screen. Her focus is completely on the very necessary schedule. It’s what completes her day and dictates it, but also what limits it. As a result, she barely looks ahead of herself, only a glance or two deemed possible for her mud-like eyes. She pays no attention to the pavement in front of her.

Opposite to her, his actions aren’t so different. His well done hair and expertly stylized outfit express his cleanliness, his position, even. He holds his phone in one hand and a blazing coffee in the other. His eyes are enraptured with the online conversation his screen displays. The fervent caffeinated liquid distracts him from the fair weather outside. If it were any other day, perhaps he’d pay more attention to it, the temperature usually more balanced than usual.

And as chance would have it, they both screech in shock at a certain feeling of wetness. Jihye drops her phone at the contact of a coffee, a scalding one at that. She seethes at the heat. It seeps through her once pristine, white blouse. It’s intensity practically burns part of her chest and stomach. Her body recoils as a reaction.

He groans at the glacial feeling, his skin suddenly cold. He had worn a blazer for his meeting, a black one. He looks down to see the dripping of coffee, colder coffee, that is. He finds it gross. He doesn’t want to waste a fairly nice blazer. Not being wet in the middle of the sidewalk is great, too. He meets the glare of the woman who he hears screech, an angry looking one at that. He groans at the look of things.

They’re both aggravated. Jihye can see the annoyance on his face, just as she’s sure he can detect hers. She sighs as her mind is ready to curse out an idiot who almost burned her. It would be nice, considering her day was subpar already. Alas, her basic manners kick in, reminding her that she hadn’t been looking where she was going. She admits how ironic it is whilst it’s just as irritating. She squints at his expression. She knows she had a good amount of responsibility in the situation, but she figures he’d at least try to apologize as a courtesy. He doesn’t.

She curses under her breath. People quickly looked at the sight of the scene, realizing an accident occurred. She wonders if people recognize her or him, thinking he has some kind of air about him. She waves it off as she bends down to pick up her now shattered phone. Her ears grasp the sounds of clicking cameras. “Tch.” She deeply breathes in, ready to sacrifice a percentage of her personal pride for the sake of manners and what will soon be on the internet. Her eyes study his face for a second.

She notes how he has a, well, raging bitch face. Perhaps it’s an angry expression his face takes on in the face of agitation, but she wouldn’t know that. She thinks of how his face is rather unique, looking more like a computer generated thing than someone’s face. She’s not sure if she means it as a compliment or not. He’s dressed expensively, too. His body is adorned of mostly black, his grey t-shirt serving as a contrast. His hair is nothing too special, despite it looking nice. Besides his looks seeming familiar and admittedly, good-looking, she still frowns with her irritation intact.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. My mistake” she forces it out. She knows how robotic it sounds. It’s natural for it to seem like she’s a child who thinks they’re in the right.

“Mhm, me too. I’d be careful next time.” He sounds just as robotic, perhaps even more so than her. He keeps his consistent glare on his face before attaching his gaze upon the space behind Jihye, his feet moving faster than his face. He’s already past her as the anger bubbles within her. She didn’t expect him to sound sincere, but something just hit the nerve. Perhaps it being her own medicine is enough to snap something in her. Perhaps she hates the guy who seemed familiar. With the thought fresh in her mind, she clears her throat and does as he did. She urges her legs to continue their road to Hwan Studios. Begrudgingly so.

Jihye’s sure she’s giving the press even more reason to call her a stone cold bitch. Nothing says negativity like everyone giving her an annoyed look and she’s positive it’s because of her unchaining expression. She can control what she looks like and yet, she’s not about to appease the image of what idols have to maintain.

She steps into the large building, employees all around the fancy desks and elevators. She feels their gaze on her, mostly upon her tainted clothing. She’s almost impressed they’re not all giving her fearful gazes as usual. Being the scary looking just above them was something she’s finally accustomed to. However, within a moment’s notice, they all give a worrying look towards her expression. She wonders if she looks like some demon. Perhaps.

One of the clerks, Minhyung, nods towards her. He’s nervous as per usual, but finds it pertinent to alarm her of an announcement. “U-Uh, CEO Min is having t-the meeting on floor five today, M-Ms. Hwan.” He nearly shakes saying it. The others look at him in amazement and even bewilderment. His glasses cover the fear in his eyes.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t bother looking at him, knowing how jittery the poor boy is. He’s younger than her, a fact she’s reminded of, daily. He lets out a sigh of relief, letting his head fall back to his moniter’s gaze. Jihye continues her journey to what is now floor five. She ventures into one of the many sleek elevators, pressing the now illuminated button. The metallic walls remind her of her somewhat disheveled appearance. A stained blouse and angry expression are the first to come to mind. Her expensive clothing is second. The black pants and midnight-like blazer make her think of a certain...loneliness. It seems to suck her up, like a black hole of sorts. Even her black hair looks cold, no color to invite personality. “Hm,” she hums. She knows how bitchy she looks in black. She smirks for a moment, before letting it fall. An indifferent face replaces it, just in time for the elevator doors to open.

She walks out as the glamorously stale walls surround her. She’s seen them a million times. They exude the same sensation her closet usually brings, but with even more professionalism. Her heeled boots clack against the marble floor. The white tiles mix with the black walls, reminding the young Korean just how lifeless the decorations feel. She grabs the clear handles to the board room. She can't see through the clear doors all too well, the sun peeking through the windows. She squints as a result.

“Jihye! Finally, we can begin this meeting.” CEO Min, an older and fairly petit woman, greets her. Her hands are clasped together. A forced and albeit sweetly sickening smile sits on her face as she motions her hand for Jihye to sit.

Her eyes instantly widen in unison with the supposed guest, a familiar and rage inducing face. She frowns even more, if that was possible. His face scrunches up in slight disgust. Her eyes dance between the CEO and the young man. She mentally scoffs, curious of why god suddenly decided to make her day the worst with a pinch of shit. She warily saunters toward the leather chair, directly across from him. She glares at him. As does he, with even more hints of vexation. They both look to the very woman who arranged such a meeting.

“Jihye, I’d like to introduce who we’ll be doing our collaboration with. This is Park Jinyoung—“

“JYP Entertainment.” The words slide off her tongue with venom. She remembers quite clearly now. The exact company she had been warned of and directed to stay away from, none other by the woman sitting a few feet away from her. “Yes, you eloquently warned me of them, Mrs. Min.”

“‘Warned is a bit exaggerated’. I simply informed you of them.” She sweetly smiles at him, not exactly convincing him. “And this is Hwan Jihye, my—a beloved artist at Hwan Studios. She’s one of our best and oldest.”

She slightly winces at the last part, thinking it not at all pertinent. “You know, it would have been very insightful if you informed me of who I’d be working with, ma’am. Why a sudden collaboration when you can’t even notify your senior artist?” The hate in her voice made the older woman sigh. It even extends to the man, Jinyoung.

“Why keep two perfectly capable artists in the dark, Mrs. Min? Afraid one can’t compensate?” His tone is just as cold.

She can tell it’s a slight jab at her own abilities, despite not knowing the other. She rolls her eyes before focusing her attention on the target. “Of course not,” she laughs, in an obvious corner. “We just found it to be more of a lax way of telling you two about it.” Jihye finds it to be bullshit.

“And just what kind of collaboration is this? I won’t waste my time on something so trivial.”

“For a music video, er, album.”

“A what now?” She stuck her neck out a bit, shock written over her face. She’s no musical artist, nor is she about to be one.

“You cannot be serious. We never even ask—“

“Yes, you didn’t, but your company did. We reached a mutual decision. It would be quite beneficial if we had Jihye create art for the music video and perhaps some performances.” She says it so casually, it makes the two wonder why they’re even there.

“No.” Her words make CEO Min sigh, causing Jinyoung to raise an eyebrow. Even when agreeing, he found the tone a bit offensive. “I work with who I want and when I want. You didn’t do your job of presenting a tolerable client and what’s more, you expect me to join a project I don’t know anything about? Shall I do your job for you?” She spits anger out from her words as she stands up, her veins filled with agitation. “Mr. Park, we will not be collaborating on your group’s next album or music video, whatever it may be.” She gives a glare back to the supposed CEO, turning on her heels to get back to the elevator. She doesn't look back at their apologetic actions nor does she listen to their yelps of ‘Wait!’.

As Jihye disappears from his sight, Jinyoung whispers a little, “Tch” before rising in his own seat. He picks up his stained blazer from the table and turns to face the older woman. “Next time, pick a patient artist, Mrs. Min. Wouldn’t want your reputation to sink like this meeting.” He leaves the room, a flabbergasted woman paying him just about all the mind. He quickly takes the next elevator, his fingers massaging his own temple.

He’s had enough of shitty events one after the other. He’s not sure if he’s thankful for Hwan Jihye’s refusal or offended she’s so unable to work with him. It’s both insulting and interesting, for sure. He’d even admit that she initially caught some of his eye at first. He couldn’t deny that she has beautiful features, her style somewhat similar to his. Although, the appeal rapidly disappeared as reality hit him like a truck. His displeasure was fair, at least in his eyes. Her cold demeanor did nothing to her looks except diminish their entreaty. The apology had no sincerity and yes, he’s aware that the he’s a pot calling the kettle black.

He hurries home, wanting to simply wind down with a book he still needs to finish. Exquisite literature with a cup of tea has always been his saving grace when needed. He readily places his blazer in the laundry, meaning to do it later. He sits upon his bed and places his already made tea on his nightstand. He looks for the book, having remembered the cover was a bright green. His eyes can’t find it. He grows confused but his eyes do land on an unfamiliar one in the meantime.

He finds it to be like a storybook. Long in height and extravagant in looks. It has a black cover, one resembling the night sky. Gold letters spell out a phrase he can vaguely recognize.

“Not By The Moon?”

hi, if you read or checked this out, tysm !! sorry for lowkey ooc jinyoung 🙇🏽‍♀️ I’d rlly appreciate it if you could reblog or like this post. I’d love to hear what ppl think so a comment is awesome too. This is also a work of fiction and for entertainment purposes.

[pynkhues]

You asked for it. Brio fix prompt - boning in a hot tub ✌🏻

A) This one blew out (sorry!) and B) They don’t even bone in a hot tub (although they do bone somewhere), so this is frankly the worst prompt fill ever, hahaha. I hope you like it anyway, anon. ;-) 

Set in The Centre and Circumference / Domestic Fic universe

“What about this one?” Beth asks, twisting her arms around her back to zip herself up as best she can. She smooths down the midnight blue fabric over her hips, biting her lip as she quickly looks herself over in the mirror before turning towards Rio, who’s sitting on the edge of their bed, pulling on a pair of black socks.

The question is enough to make him drag his gaze down her body, suck in his lip in a way that rapidly triggers a flush across her chest.

“’s nice,” he rasps, and Beth rolls her eyes, because it would mean something if he hadn’t responded with some variation of the same for the last four dresses she’d shown him.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” she bites, unzipping the dress again and wriggling out of it in frustration. It’s enough to make Rio groan, dropping heavily back onto their bed, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes as he does it.

“Wear your mama jeans for all I care, it don’t matter.”

“It absolutely does matter,” Beth insists, flailing as her dress finally pools at her feet. “It’s - - fancy.”

“Fancy?” he asks, glancing up at her, popping an eyebrow, eyes darting a little hotly down to her cream lace bra and panties, and Beth finds herself blushing all over again, quickly grabbing another dress from her shortlisted pile to slip on.

“It’s a cocktail party.”

“Nuh, trust me, ma, all it is is an excuse for Gretchen to show off all the shit she’s done to her house.”

“There was an invitation. A physical invitation. In the mail,” Beth insists. “It was embossed.”

“Yeah, coz she’s like that,” Rio replies easily, waving an arm up in the air, and Beth levels him with a look, smoothing her floral dress down over herself, and - - no, she thinks, barely needing to look at herself in the mirror. She’d bought this for a high tea school fundraiser, and everything about the dress screams mom. She is not mom tonight. Well, she is – she’s always mom, but the point is, they won’t have the kids with them. Hell, they won’t even be coming home to them with hers at Dean’s for the week, and Marcus at Laura’s.

No, tonight she is Rio’s partner – in crime, in life, in - -

In all of it. At a fancy party. With his friends. She sucks in a breath, pulling off her dress and immediately fumbling back through the pile of options she’d clawed out of their closet. Has she always had this many dresses? Why does she suddenly hate them all?  

“She’s like what exactly?”

Rio rolls his eyes, good natured, and when he says, “Pretentious. Shit, she’s callin’ this thing a house re-warmin’ and everything,” it’s with an amount of affection that goes straight to Beth’s nerves. She’s met Gretchen a few times now and they’ve just never really hit it off – but then, as Ruby had insisted, they’d never had the chance to either. Beth’s always either been child wrangling or entertaining or - - well, meeting with her professionally, where Gretchen seems to enjoy bringing up the fact that Beth created the legal woes for Rio that paid for Gretchen’s new house a little too much, and just - - god. Beth really wants her to like her.

After all, she knows she’s more than just Rio’s lawyer, she’s his friend and Beth’s more than just – as one of Rio’s boys put it (right before Rio broke the guy’s hand) – the snitch Rio wife’d. Speaking of - -

“What’s her wife do again?” Beth asks, and Rio rolls over a little on the bed, watching Beth toss a few ‘no’ dresses to the floor in her underwear, finally grabbing a soft pink dress and holding it low to step into.

“Manages some gallery.”

“Manages some gallery,” Beth says with a scoff, pulling the dress up over her hips, her belly. “She’s the artistic director of DIA.”  

“Why you askin’ if you already knew the answer?”

And - - well. Beth blinks over at him, looks at the smug look on his face and knows she walked right into that trap. She scowls, shoving her arms into the sleeves of the dress. It’s just - - they’re impressive, that’s all. Basically a Detroit supercouple! And Beth is already having flashbacks to their housewarming when Gretchen and Caroline got stuck talking to Annie about all the different types of dead animals she’d found in the Fine & Frugal delivery trucks.

“I’ve just never really been around people like this before,” Beth admits, exhaling, and it’s enough to make Rio sigh, slide off their bed, and step towards her and just - - god, that’s unfair. He looks almost too good like this – button up shirt, skinny tie, fitted slacks, a tailored blazer, all black, and Beth frowns, still trying to get her dress over her shoulders where the fabric has twisted. Rio bats her hands away as soon as he’s at her side, replacing them with his own and making neat, quick work of untwisting it for her and smoothing it down. He rocks back a little when he’s done, makes an appreciative noise in the back of his throat before spinning her around towards the mirror and zipping her the whole way up.

“This one’s good,” he hums, gently squeezing her arms and Beth blinks at her reflection. She hasn’t really worn this dress before at all – it had been an impulse purchase, something elegant and simple. A fitted pink dress with embroidered flowers on the bust, a cinched waist and a draped side that had made her feel sort of regal in the moment she’d tried it on – like one of the Roman goddesses Emma had been studying at school, and she’s surprised to find the feeling blossom again.

It goes almost too well with her pale skin, her soft eye make-up, and the way she’s curled her hair. She knows she has a deep pink lipstick too that’ll pull it all together.

“The party’s gonna be borin’ as hell, trust me. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” Rio tells her, dropping his arms to wrap around her waist, pull her back against him. “But damn, you that worried, we could stay in.”

He brushes his lips against the shell of her ear, his hand slowly pulling up her dress.

“Have our own party.”

Beth flushes, but still has the sense enough to roll her eyes. Still, she can’t say the thought doesn’t have its own appeal – but then, she looks at them in the mirror together. God, have they ever done this sort of thing before? Together?

She turns around in his arms, pressing her lips to his.

“Come on. I don’t want to be late.”

*

“Are you sure this is it?”

“You know I been here before right?”

Beth rolls her eyes, clambering out of the passenger seat of Rio’s car as he passes his keys to the valet, walking around the car and promptly dropping his hand to the small of her back. Beth leans into it before she can help herself, glancing up at the large, stately house before them, and - - well, at least it matches the invitation, Beth thinks, shifting her weight, her hands clutching at the container in her hands.

It’s not just the house, which has to be almost as big as their own (despite the vast difference between having no kids and five to live in it), but the creeping vines that scale the length of the red brick walls, and the long, elegant stone path leading them from the street to the door. It’s bracketed by neatly trimmed grass, and small, orb solar lights, creating a calling glow up towards the house, and Beth pauses as a man in a tuxedo steps out the front door, covering one ear as he talks into his cell.

Rio’s hand nudges her forwards.

“You were right,” Beth says before she can think, glancing down at the dish in her hands. “I shouldn’t have made anything.”

“Didn’t say you shouldn’t’ve, said you didn’t need to,” Rio reminds her, and Beth shakes her head, glancing over at him, her hands tightening on the dish. “Come on, mami.”

With an exhale, Beth lets Rio guide her up towards the house, her gaze drifting back to the road behind them where a Tesla rolls up and spits out a couple in a three-piece suit and what is basically a sequined ballgown and god, Beth thinks, squirming a little. She suddenly wishes she’d at least worn the navy dress – feels like she could maintain a degree of invisibility in it. Like he’s felt her unease, Rio’s hand moves from the small of her back to curl around her, fingers first squeezing the curve of her waist before sliding down to hold her hip.

He barely has the chance to knock when suddenly the door opens, flooding classical music and chatter out into the night, and Beth’s relieved not to see a doorman (like she was starting to expect), but Caroline. Tall and slender, with long copper hair and sunkissed skin, she appears in front of them in a puff of forest green satin, a champagne glass in hand. She glances between them, surprise plain on her face before she quickly covers it with something more pleasant.

“Christopher! Beth!” she hums warmly, before twisting on the spot. “Gretchen! The Velasquez’ are here!”

Before Beth can remind Caroline that they’re not married, Gretchen’s appearing at her side, her dark hair pulled back off her face, dressed in a chic, tight white dress.

“Welcome,” Gretchen says, still half talking to somebody else, and Beth follows her gaze from the stranger to where it settles promptly on Rio.  

“Thank you,” Beth replies for both of them, knowing Rio won’t, and quickly holding up her dish before she can think anymore of it. Both Gretchen and Caroline blink at her in surprise. “It’s a pear and blue cheese tart.”

“’s real good,” Rio hums beside her, tightening his grip on her hip, like he can feel how frazzled she is, because of course he can, and Gretchen’s gaze flicks to him before sliding back to Beth.

“Did you not see on the invitation that it was catered?” Gretchen asks, her eyebrows raised, her face giving away nothing, and god, is she offended? Did she think Beth thought the food provided would be anything but divine?

“I mean, I did, of course, but what would a house re-warming be without something to re-warm,” she hopes it comes off as cheerful, charming, and she sees Gretchen tick it over, but she doesn’t say anything, so Beth quickly adds: “Everyone often tells me it’s even better the next day, so consider it tomorrow’s lunch for the two of you.”

Gretchen just stares at Beth for a moment, her gaze flicking back to Rio, and whatever she sees on his face makes her roll her eyes. Beth’s about to try and figure out exactly what that means when Caroline promptly interjects.

“What Gretch means to say is thank you,” she says, taking the dish from Beth’s hands. “As for me, you had me at blue cheese. I actually think it’ll compliment some of the canapes beautifully too.”

“Oh! Good,” Beth says, glancing back, but Gretchen hasn’t taken her eyes off Rio, and when Beth flicks her own gaze up to look at him, he doesn’t turn it down to meet her. Instead, the two seem to be locked in some private, silent conversation, and Beth finds herself shifting awkwardly beneath it.

At the same moment that she picks up on it, Caroline seems to too, and instantly takes it as her cue to hold a hand out to Beth, gesturing her into the house.

“Beth, why don’t you help me give it to our caterers. You can pass on the serving instructions to them so you can go and enjoy yourself.”

It’s enough to make Beth blink, feeling Rio release her hip, nudging her forwards into Caroline, and then he promptly turns on his heel, striding out onto the front lawn, Gretchen on his heels. Beth blinks again, opens her mouth, but before she can get a word out, Caroline’s pulling her through into the house, leading her through the throng of people.

“Did you make the pastry yourself again? I still talk about that wild mushroom tartlet from your housewarming, I swear, just ask Gretch. It’s your own recipe, isn’t it? You should think about patenting it.”  

*

Beth wouldn’t exactly call herself a wallflower, but the part seems to fit too well tonight. After she talks the caterers through re-heating the tart, Caroline gets her a champagne and what is honestly a pretty incredible little salmon thing before making easy small talk about her renovations and Beth’s kids until new arrivals at the party beckon her away. She makes generous, hostess work of introducing Beth to an artist friend of hers before she does though, only the guy seems to decidedly lose interest in her the moment he realises she’s not available, and he swans off to some twenty-four year old blonde with a braying laugh and a great ass.

A waitress moves by with a tray of champagne glasses, and Beth takes two – one for her and one for Rio, but she’s drunk both before she can really think better of it. Besides, he hasn’t come back yet, she tells herself, shifting her weight and looking across the swell of people, seeking him out, and just, god - - isn’t that pathetic? She cringes internally, rolling her ankle a little in her heels before trying to firm herself up. She doesn’t want to cling to his arm like an accessory, and she certainly doesn’t need him to be introducing her to people.

The party’s filled up well, an array of well-dressed, classy people in silk and fine linen, looking perfectly in place against Gretchen and Caroline’s elegant décor. Crisp white walls peppered with enormous canvas art – modern, often muted greys, giving the space a strangely Parisian quality, something that’s only emphasised by the cool marble floors and the white leather sofa, and Beth makes a mental note to never, ever bring their children here.

There’s a baby grand piano in the corner, a hired pianist at the stool playing for the party, and she contemplates going over, chatting to him, before her eyes catch a group of three people, a little closer, standing around the side with an opening she could easily slide into. Sucking in a breath, she squares her shoulders, slips on a smile, and walks over.

It takes them a minute to even realise she’s there, and Beth hesitates to introduce herself, finally just waving a little, clutching her champagne glass.

“Hi there, I’m Beth,” she says, and just - - god, this feels like grade school. She smiles as sweetly as she can, watching the two men and the women pause, look over at her, and it’s the woman who puts her out of her misery, holding out a hand which Beth gratefully takes.

“Maddison,” she says, before gesturing to the two men beside her. “And this is Peter and Todd. We’re reminiscing. We all went to Harvard Law with Gretch.”

Beth blinks, looking between the three of them – to Maddison’s sequined red dress, to the two men’s pristine suits, and figures, she thinks. She grins.

“Wow! All of you?”

It’s enough to make Todd flick his gaze down her body, making no secret of undressing her with his eyes, while Peter tries to wave down another drink.

“Yup, class of ’03. None of us have made quite the dent as Peter has over here,” Maddison says, bumping him with her hip. “But we’re all still practicing which is pretty impressive. I was just saying I ran into this girl from our class, Julia Yang, a few weeks ago, and she’s working in policy – hours are better with kids apparently – but Jesus. I can’t imagine wasting a degree from Harvard Law on state government.”

“Here here,” Todd says, stealing Peter’s new glass of champagne, eyes still on Beth’s chest. “Which industry are you in - - wait, don’t tell me. I’m gonna guess. I’m thinking - -”

He clenches his eyes shut, holds a hand up to her, like he’s a psychic making a prediction, and Beth laughs a little uncertainly, trying to swallow her sudden discomfort, shifting her weight back on her feet.

“Sales.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Todd,” Maddison says, and Beth looks sideways at Maddison, because something in the other woman’s tone tells her that she should be offended, but she’s not in on whatever Todd’s joke is. The moment sits heavily for a moment as Todd laughs, and right, Beth thinks, stepping in.

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” she says lightly. “I sell cars. I run my own second-hand dealership actually.”

The three of them look blankly at her, nodding a little, and Beth’s glad suddenly for the high neck of her dress, because she’s sure her chest is flushed.

“So business school?” Maddison asks, feigning interest, and Beth glances over at her, shaking her head.

“Actually, I didn’t go,” she says. “I mean, I got into Wayne State, but I had some - - just you know. Life happens, and I didn’t get the chance to go.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. And you never thought of going back?”

“Yeah, I did,” Beth replies, ringing her fingers a little around the stem of her champagne glass. “But I got pregnant, and then I got pregnant again, and well, you know how it is.”

“I imagine two kids are a lot of work.”

“Actually I have five,” Beth says. “Well, I mean, I have four, but my partner has one too, so we’re five together.”

The words are enough to make Todd briefly splutter on his drink, his eyes dropping onto Beth with a new sort of weight, and even Peter seems bemused by the fact, forehead furrowing as he looks at her curiously.

“How do you go from that to running your own car dealership?”

Beth smiles at him, shrugs, wrinkling her nose a little.

“My ex-husband used to run one, and I’d help out, but my new partner and I set this one up together. I had experience, so I kind of –”

But even before the words are out of her mouth, Peter’s laughing, looking away, gesturing back to the waitress again for canapes, and Beth feels the rest of the sentence dry up on her tongue.  

“It’s great that you got that opportunity,” Maddison says, and the words are kind, but her tone is - - less than. Beth’s flush deepens, and she polishes off her glass of champagne so that when the waitress comes around for Peter, she can grab another for herself.

“Shit, Gretch has done well for herself,” Todd says, pointedly changing the subject, and Beth makes a grateful noise of agreement that nobody really acknowledges. “She was telling me the other day that they put a twenty-five-metre lap pool in on the second-floor garden.”

“There’s a second-floor garden? Shit, doesn’t she only have like, three major clients?”

“Yeah, but they’re all big tickets, and she keeps a rotating door of smaller ones. She’ll never confirm it, but I heard one of the majors is Christopher Velasquez.”

Peter swears suddenly, eyebrows up in his hairline, and Beth’s eyes widen, suddenly finding herself frozen to the spot.  

“Isn’t that guy, like, a kingpin?”

“Mm-hmm,” Todd says. “Huge deal. Used to move around a bit, but I’ve heard he’s really laid roots in Detroit over the last few years. Pretty sure Gretch rep’ed him in that federal criminal case three years ago, lucky bitch. She got him off too. Killed the FBI’s case. I seriously don’t remember her being that good in college.”

“She’s always been that good, you just hate women, Todd,” Maddison says, and Todd rolls his eyes. “I wonder why Velasquez stayed in Detroit.”

“Why does any guy like that lay roots? He’s probably been locked down by good pussy.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“What would be disgusting is if I said that good pussy trapped him poking holes in a condom, which she probably did.”

“Right,” Maddison says dryly, staring at Peter. “Because god forbid the guy maybe just want to settle down after almost going away on federal charges. You’re such a fucking asshole, Pete, I swear, you - - ”

A hand touches the small of her back again, and god, Beth wishes she wasn’t relieved, turning a little to let Rio sidle in beside her. He looks annoyed more than anything, and briefly fear grips her that he’d heard these guys talking about him, seen Beth just standing there, shell shocked (but also a little curious), but them he plucks her champagne glass from her hand, draining it in one long gulp, before dropping it onto a passing waiter’s tray and grabbing one for each of them to replace it.

“Sorry ‘bout that, mama,” he hums, and Beth gives him a look.

“For stealing my drink or taking so long?”

He grins, a little bashful, leaning in to steal a kiss before turning to face the three people watching them. He tilts up his chin in acknowledgement.

“Yo.”  

And god, she wishes it didn’t feel so good to turn around and watch the three of them just stare, their eyes wide, mouths slightly open, flicking between Rio, and Beth beside him, taking her in all over again with her pink dress and her soft, strawberry blonde curls. Beth stands up a little straighter, batting her eyelashes.

“Christopher, this is Maddison, Todd and Peter, they went to law school with Gretchen.”

He nods at them, his arm settling around Beth’s back again.

“Yeah? Maybe you can help me figure out if she was born a cutthroat or she learnt that shit.”

Maddison barks on a laugh, blatantly checking him out, before tossing her hair back over her shoulder and pushing out her hip.

“Been that way as long as I’ve known her,” she says, and Rio gives her a half smile that visibly melts her, and god, embarrassing, Beth thinks. Although maybe she’s the one who’s embarrassing, because before she can stop herself, she’s leaning into Rio’s side possessively, grateful for the way that he tightens his hold on her hip in reply.

“Great,” Beth says sharply, turning a little to Rio. “Want to do a lap?”

Rio furrows his brow, looking down at her, like he can hear something in her tone but doesn’t quite know what it is, but still. He tilts his champagne glass at the trio in goodbye and lets Beth take him for a lap.

*

And mostly it’s fine, Beth tells herself, shifting her weight beside Rio as women titter around him and men look at him with a sort of awe that Beth really hasn’t seen outside of movies. She knew the brand of effortless charm and charisma Rio exuded – after all, it’s not like she’s ever been immune to it – but here, like this, he straddles the line of success and danger in a way that she’s never seen before and it’s like - - like catnip to these people (and sure, she’s sure the fact that he looks like he does doesn’t hurt).

It’s not like she gets lost in the shuffle of it exactly either, just they treat her almost like she’s a part of the Christopher Velasquez package. One man even practically says it.

(“And this is your wife?” he’d asked, eyeing Beth off appraisingly like she was a racehorse or a - - well, a trophy, and Rio had made a noise which was basically an affirmation that Beth didn’t have the wits to unpack. “Beautiful, truly. I imagine you must wake up every morning a happy man.”)

And just - - god, she thinks, finishing off her glass. They might be better dressed, better educated, drive nicer cars, but it’s like it was with Dean, only somehow worse, and Beth doesn’t even know how to begin to think about that. It’s not that Rio encourages it either – in fact, he barely speaks at all, seems more than anything itching to leave, just they’re here, and, despite herself, she wants to make a good impression.

So she grabs another champagne.

And another.

And okay, maybe getting drunk and listening to people fawn over Rio wasn’t exactly the best way to achieve that good impression, because she’s swaying a little on her feet when Gretchen and Caroline finally clink glasses and call for the start of the tour.

“Tour?” Beth whispers, although judging by the amused look on Rio’s face and the few people around them who turn to shush her, probably not as quietly as she thinks.

“Told you Gretchen was like this,” Rio hums back, grabbing another cranberry, brie and prosciutto crostini off a tray as a waiter drifts past. “You ready?”

Beth resists the urge to groan. Resists the urge to slip out of her heels and rub at her aching feet too. Instead paints on her most benign smile and lets Rio hold her back until most of the party has followed Gretchen and Caroline out of the room for the start of the tour.

Moving to follow, Beth’s surprised when Rio suddenly grabs her arm, tugging her in the opposite direction to the group.

“What are you doing?” she says with a yelp, and Rio spins back to look at her, pressing a finger to his mouth, gesturing her to be quiet.

“Baby, I’ll do a lot for you, but I ain’t got it in me to follow Gretchen and Caroline around while they try to tell me that ugly ass paintin’ in their foyer was worth half what they paid for it. Come on.”

Beth laughs before she can help herself, and they should stick with the group – they should. It’s the adult thing to do, the right thing to do, but then - -

“Wait,” she yelps, and Rio turns back around, like he’s preparing himself for a fight, only to find Beth clutching his arm and leaning down to take off her shoes. She grabs them by the heels, and then gestures forwards. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Rio just grins.

*

It takes them a while to find it.

Takes them maybe fifteen minutes and a few games of what’s behind the door that has Beth giggling and Rio laughing as her guesses get more and more ridiculous (the shrine to him guess for the room that turns about to be a linen closet earns her a particularly loud guffaw that Beth thinks she’ll keep with her forever), and finally it’s his guess of morgue for lawyers who’ve crossed Gretchen that opens them up to the room with the pool.

Rio steps quickly through, a spring to his step like it was what he’d been looking for, and Beth finds herself suddenly breathless, her toes leaving the cool hallway floor for the soft, lush artificial grass of what can only be described as a greenhouse. It’s a huge, glass room full of ferns and flowers, fairy lights dangling from the roof, reflecting off the still water surface of the swimming pool. Soft, tinkling music plays through hidden speakers as the faint smell of chlorine is overwhelmed by the fragrant smell of blossoming lilies.

“It’s beautiful,” Beth says, breathless, and Rio hums in agreement, toeing off his shoes, his socks, and dangling a foot briefly in the water of the pool.

“Temperature’s good too,” he says, and Beth spins to look at him. To just see him now, barefoot in his fitted suit, his eyes hooded, his lips plump, the angles of his cheekbones like a splinter of glass, and she remembers all the other women, hungry for him, and then - - well.

Suddenly Beth feels too sober. She swallows thickly, looking away.

“Will Gretchen be mad we didn’t do the tour?”

“Probably,” Rio says with a shrug, pulling off his blazer, draping it neatly over one of the wicker chairs at the poolside. “She’ll get over it. Don’t think I coulda spent another minute around those people.”

The music tinkles on benignly as Beth watches him loosen the knot on his tie, enough he can sling it off his neck, dropping it to the chair with his blazer. It’s strange, how he can still look so elegant, even without the more formal staples of his attire. Beth wonders if Dean ever looked this together in slacks and a shirt, but then - - Dean never really looked together at all. Beth bites the inside of her cheek.

“Those people are probably who you should be hanging out with,” she says lightly, and Rio blinks over at her, forehead furrowed, lips pulled into a disbelieving grin.

“Who says?”

She tosses both her arms up, shrugs, shakes her head at him.  

“They’re smart, successful people. Like you are. They could be good connections for you professionally. Now and in the future.”

And it’s loaded then, the quiet between them. Rio stops undressing, just looks at her briefly, like he’s trying to read her, and, for once, finds that he can’t. It’s enough to make him rock his jaw, to look away, then back to her.

“Been a while since we been a me,” he says slowly, and Beth’s heart lurches in her throat. She quickly shakes her head.

“That’s not what I meant.”

But isn’t it?

“You fit better here,” she says. “That’s all. I mean I - -”

But the words won’t come.

“You what?” he says, not quite letting her off the hook, but the thing is, Beth can’t say it. Can’t tell him that tonight has been humiliating, that it’s been demoralising, that it’s reminded her of just how much of her life has been - - not worthless. She refuses to say worthless. She wouldn’t change a thing about taking care of Annie, wouldn’t swap her children for anything - - more - -

More how much her life hasn’t been lived for her.

How much other people see that as small.

“You and me ain’t ever had nothin’ handed to us, and we won’t ever. It’s what makes us so fuckin’ good. What means we don’t need this fancy fuckin’ show to tell people what we are.”

Beth’s head whips up at that, sees Rio looking at her, feels something in her chest tear open at his words, and just, she exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

“Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, Elizabeth, they ain’t my people, you are.”

“Gretchen - - ”

“Is my friend, yeah, but we don’t do this shit together. Just coz we’re friends don’t mean we’re the same. We hang, sure, and we got the club, and she got me out of trouble, and I got her outta binds too. That don’t mean I’m interested in spendin’ any of my time listenin’ to her talk about how she’s spent my money.”

Beth huffs out a laugh, folding her arms over her chest. Still, she glances up at him.

“What did she want to talk to you about when we got here?”

Both his eyebrows pop up at that – a huh expression that almost makes Beth blush, and when he says:

“That’s what got you stressin’?”

His tone is laden with disbelief.

Beth shakes her head, bites the inside of her cheek, glancing out at the inviting surface of the pool.

“She doesn’t like me.”

“It wasn’t about you. She didn’t expect me to show. She was worried I was gonna start cappin’ people or somethin’, knew a few people here mighta been a little fuckin’ ignorant. Wanted to make sure I was on my best behaviour.”

“Really?”

“Mm,” Rio says. “Told her I already had you to keep me in line so didn’t need her breathin’ down my neck too.”

“I wish I could keep you in line,” she says with a snort, and Rio grins, dimples and all, and ugh, Beth thinks, rolling her eyes, not quite able to temper her own smile. His face is like a trap, she thinks. One she really needs to get better at wriggling out of, because she still feels it all, swirling around in her gut, but - - mostly she just wants to kiss him.

She shakes her head.

“Tonight’s been weird,” she says with a sigh, and Rio hums in agreement, his voice low, dulcet. She squints back at him. “Like, every woman here wants to sleep with you.”

It’s enough to make him laugh, head back, his hands undoing the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing the talons on the hawk at his neck. Not for the first time, she wonders how many women he’s slept with before her but - - god, even Annie had agreed that the answer to that was probably not one she wanted to know.

“Shit, you seen the way that art dealer was lookin’ at you. Thought I would have to start cappin’ people.”

And Beth just snorts at that. She’s pretty sure he was mostly looking at her to figure out what Rio even saw in her, but she thinks bringing that up is only going to piss Rio off and make him want to prove something in that way he too often does.

“See?” he says instead. “You standin’ there actin’ like we’re supposed to be fittin’ in with them, when everyone in that room either wants to be us or fuck us. We aspirational, mami.”

“Oh my god,” Beth says, laughing. “You’re so full of yourself.”

And Rio grins widely at her, his eyes crinkling in that way she likes best, his hands lowering to unbutton his shirt the whole way down, and she means to ask him what he’s doing – if he’s planning on going for a swim, only what comes out is:

“I don’t think Gretchen finds me particularly aspirational.”

“She don’t really know you yet,” Rio replies easily, not so much as slowing his hands trail down his shirt. “Plus she’s paranoid. It‘s good, it’s what I pay her for, but you are the reason she had to haul my ass outta federal court three years ago, remember?”

And Beth rolls her eyes again, shaking her head.

“How could I not? She brings it up practically every time I see her.”

“Yeah, that’s just coz she thinks it’s funny to see how pale you can get,” Rio says grinning, and Beth just gives him her best dead-eyed stare.

“Caroline likes you.”

And - - what? Beth blinks in surprise.

“No she doesn’t.”

“Yeah, your sister too. Apparently talked to her for hours at our housewarmin’ about dead animals in fruit trucks?” Rio rolls his eyes, somehow both affectionate and disgusted. “Apparently Caroline used to work in a grocery store too when she was younger. Enjoyed comparin’ horror stories with her. Learnin’ those places ain’t changed. Think you and me might need to invest in a farm or somethin’ to make sure we feedin’ the kids well.”

“A farm?” Beth asks, laughing. “Sure, let’s add it to the retirement plan.”

Rio laughs again, but he doesn’t dispute it, and a comfortable quiet settles over them, the tinkling of the music and the quiet hum of the pool filter taking up the space between them. Beth’s starting to think about rejoining the tour (and maybe finding another glass of champagne) when Rio suddenly pulls the rest of his shirt up and asks:

“Wanna go for a swim?”

Reeling back around, Beth just stares at him.

“What?”

His grin widening, Rio quickly swallows it, sucking in his lip as he nods his head towards the pool and Beth follows his gaze towards the clear surface and just - - god, it really does look inviting.

“Really?” she asks, tone dry, and Rio shrugs, reaching for his belt.

“My money paid for it,” he says easily, and Beth rolls her eyes.

“That doesn’t make it yours.”

He gives her a look like he patently disagrees with her on that, and Beth can’t quite bite back her laugh, shaking her head. Before she can say anything though, Rio promptly interjects.

“Hm, now that I think on it, pretty sure my money paid for that dress too,” he says, eyeing her off, and Beth arches an eyebrow at that, heat rushing south even as she tries to look as innocently back at him as possible.

“Oh, did you want it back?”

“You know, I think I do.”

And Beth just rolls her eyes again at that, and Rio laughs, shucking out of his pants and then his underwear, and just like that, he bounds forwards and dives in. The arc of his body graceful as he breaks the water surface, and Beth watches, oddly breathlessly, as his lean, sharp body glides below. He’s almost at the other end of the pool before he breaks through again, pausing to tread water in the deep end, his skin glistening beneath the twinkling pool lights.

“Cute,” Beth says, keeping her tone as dry as possible. She reaches down to pick up his slacks, then his underwear, folding them neatly and placing them with his blazer and tie on the wicker chair.

“C’mon, mami,” he calls. “You gonna leave me here?”

“Yes,” Beth says, but she’s already peeling down her pantyhose and pulling the zip down on the back of her dress. Rio grins, watching her from the water as she hesitates only briefly before – fuck it. The water does look great, and she loves to swim, and she’s still a little (more than a little) drunk and there’s just - - something horribly romantic about this right now, with the lights and the water and - - and him.

Everything always feels romantic with him.

She pulls off her dress, folds it beside his clothes and her pantyhose, before biting her lip, looking down at her panties and her bra and she’d keep them on if she didn’t know they’d soak through the fabric of her dress afterwards and just - - right, she thinks. Shucking quickly out of both, and darting towards the water, shivering in the cold and thrumming with adrenaline, and then the water is just the perfect temperature when she slips her body in, which of course it is, and Beth breathes out a sigh of relief, knowing that they haven’t been found out yet.

She half expects Rio to have swum back over to her, but when she looks up, he’s right where he was, a smug grin on his face and a hot look in his eyes, even from here, and she could stay. Knows she could. Knows she could make him come to her, just - - she doesn’t want to. Not tonight.

The tiles are rough beneath her feet as she pads towards him until it’s too deep to walk, and then she swims the last of the way towards him, and he just watches her, like he always does, and she watches him too. The way the twinkling fairy lights cast only the faintest glow across his features, casting the angles of his face starkly. She can’t help it, the way her eyes drop to his lips, feeling the way the water pushes and pulls between them.

“Hi,” she says, and Rio swims a little closer, until she can feel his legs treading water between her own. “Can we never throw a party like this?”

And it must catch him by surprise, because he laughs, throwing his head back, grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his waist, the water whooshing around them, her slippery body colliding easily with him. His hands settle on her ass, holding her to him.

“Oh, so you gonna say it?”

“Gonna say what?”

“That I was right and you were - - hmm, what’s the opposite of that again?”

“I was not wrong,” Beth squawks, waving out the hand that’s not latched onto Rio’s shoulder, and his innocent expression doesn’t even falter.

“No?”

“No,” Beth insists, squinting, prickly with annoyance suddenly, and Rio furrows his brow, sucks in his lips in faux consideration.

“Think I told you this shit was gonna be borin’ as hell, and you said - -”

“That Gretchen struck me as the type of person who knows how to throw a party, and she does. This party has been thrown. It’s very well organised.”

“It fuckin’ sucks, ma,” he tells her easily, and Beth tilts up her nose.

“I didn’t say it was going to be a fun party. I said it was going to be fancy.”

And Rio just laughs, loud and lyrical, drowning out the music, the pool filter, filling Beth’s ears in the best possible way.

“You got a gift, you know that?”

“For what?”

“Re-writin’ history.”

Beth huffs out a breath at that, because honestly, she didn’t re-write a single thing. She just feels differently now and as she tells their children (and Annie), that’s indicative of growth not lying and - -

“Anyway,” Rio chimes. “I know a way we can make it better.”

Beth looks at him carefully, and then Rio rolls his hips and just - -

Beth gasps, scandalised.

“We are not having sex in this pool.”

“What’d you think we’d be doin’ in it? We ain’t wearin’ clothes.”

“Skinny dipping is a thing.”

“Yeah, foreplay.”

She splashes him and he kisses her, hard and fast, and Beth moans, her hands coming up to the back of his head, her nails raking through his hair, and god, she just - - melts into it. Melts into him. It’s really not fair, how good he is at this, she thinks, arching her back, pressing her breasts into his chest, just to hear him groan, unsurprised when he bites her lip in retaliation.

It’s not long before he’s hard beneath her and he’s slowly swimming them over to the poolside, enough he can press her back into the tiles, giving her the time to lower a hand between them, wrap it around his cock and line it up with herself until he can push in. Beth drops her head back, moaning, the feel of the water lapping at their skin, coolly encompassing them. Rio hums, his mouth latching onto her neck, sucking in a bruise, and she arches her back against the side of the pool, tries to get closer against him, always, exhaling hoarsely, her hand scratching down his back as he rolls his hips against hers, burying his cock deeper, and - -

“This room is probably our favourite. We actually met at a garden party in Boston almost twenty years ago now, so in a lot of ways this room is actually a - -"

Beth gasps, head reeling, glancing over to where Gretchen and Caroline have backed into the room, and she flounders briefly, trying to tug both herself and Rio further down in the water, and god, Beth thinks, a mortified flush bleeding across her face and chest, at least only Gretchen seems to have seen them.

“You know what, I actually forgot a stop on our tour. Caroline, would you mind showing our guests the wall of original photographs we commissioned from the up and coming artist, Vanessa Miller.”

“Of course,” Caroline says, eyes darting over Gretchen’s face while Beth mostly just tries to get herself and Rio under the cover of water, trying to smother his laughs into her chest. The group files out, and Beth breathes a sigh of relief, at least – she does until a long, thin shadow settles over them, and just - -

Beth clenches her eyes shut.

“You know I only ever invite you to these things with what I thought was an unspoken agreement that you don’t come,” Gretchen says above them, and Rio blinks up at her innocently, still buried to the hilt in Beth, and just - - god, they’re naked in her pool, and Beth doesn’t think it’s possible to be any more red.

“To be fair, I haven’t yet,” Rio says innocently, and Beth was clearly wrong. She slaps him at the same time Gretchen makes a noise of barely contained horror.

“Okay, Beth,” Gretchen says loudly, changing focus, and Beth lifts her head enough to look at her. “It was lovely to see you. Do whatever you need to do, but then take him home.”

Offering only a meek nod, Beth curls her toes in the water, already thinking of ways she can bury this memory, as Gretchen turns on her heel to stride out of the garden, back to the hall.

“I’m adding the cleaning fee to your bill, Velasquez,” Gretchen calls behind her, and Rio laughs, utterly delighted, and Beth vaguely wonders if Gretchen would be willing to represent her after she murdered him.

“This is hands down the worst thing you’ve ever done,” Beth tells him and Rio blinks at her, forehead furrowed, hands firming on her ass.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Beth reiterates, taking a hand off his back to gesture out around them. “You - - - ah.”

And, well, she thinks, legs tightening around his waist as he thrusts into her.

Gretchen did tell them to do what they needed.

[babyboy-cody]

gosh, today started off with heavy want for submissive boys, yet now? i'd love for bill to have the same cockiness he had for mark and just go to town on me, dear oh dear!

Kinda wanna keep this going cause Bill deserves all the love and attention 🥴 How about some new roommate!Bill? 😶 This is probably the longest blurb I’ve ever written because it’s about our baby Bill.

—

The heavy bass coming from the speakers can be felt through your bones. There was a steady thump in your chest, throat, and head. Bodies rubbed against one another on the marbeled dance floor as strobes of neon blue, green, and red spun around the club, ricocheting off the sparkly walls and sweaty people. The air was muggy from the tight space you consumed at the end of the sleek bar. Your cherry colored lips were wrapped around a thin straw as you suckled down your Malibu Sunset. You were trying - keyword trying - to enjoy the andrenaline coursing through your veins coupled with the fast paced music. It was deemed impossibly when they was a scruffy jaw at your cheek with a pair of dry lips close to your ear.

The minute you perched yourself at the bar and ordered yourself a fruity drink, it seemed like the only decent looking man wouldn’t leave you alone. He was like an energetic puppy; always asking you questions about your life, brushing his hand against your bare arm enthusiastically, subtly pushing himself closer to your side whenever you moved a fraction. It was starting to get irritating, especially since you lost Bill.

It was his idea to come to the best club in the city. It was his idea to leave you alone at the bar to occupy himself with the pretty brunette hanging off his arm. And it was his idea to tell you to wear your prettiest dress, a gold and silver plunging V-neck with thin straps and an opened back. As Bill said two hours prior, you looked like “sex on heels.”

“And a buddy of mine owns a kickass cabin upstate near the lake. It’s nice for a vacation or just a getaway, if you’re interested,” he said in your ear, and you grimace as you smelt the heavy tequila on his breath.

You hummed completely uninterested as you swirled your straw around the crushed cubes of ice. You raised a hand at the bartender and rose your empty cup in the air, smiling when he offered you a nod and a thumbs up before starting on a new drink.

“I got that, sweetheart,” the man beside you says and reached into the inside pocket of his too tight blazer to pull out a fat wad of cash, not even being subtle about it.

“Thanks,” you tell him, bobbing your knee to the beat of the music and gently swaying your hips as you give the large crowd of dancing bodies a look.

“No problem, gorgeous,” he grinned wolfishly and laid a hand a little too low on your lower back, causing you to grimace again around your new drink. “How about you and I dance for a bit, hm?”

You rolled your eyes and bit back a groan; thankfully the low lights and loud music blocked out both actions. Your well manicured nails tapped against the bar top as you sent the man beside you a sweet and obviously fake smile. He licks the top row of his teeth before biting down on his bottom lip. Did he really think that looked attractive? Who told them that’s what girls liked, let alone women?

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” you suddenly heard in your other ear, followed by a massive hand wrapping around your hip to pull you away from the testosterone infused man.

You looked at the culprit and immediately felt at ease as he stared down at you with his glazed green eyes. Bill’s other hand was wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle, his fingers comically touching each other as he knocked back a few eager sips. He towered over you and the suddenly silent man, both of you not saying anything as the tall brunette smiled down at you. The first two buttons of his floral shirt was unbuttoned, his hair lightly messy, but still put together. His forehead shined with a small fitting of sweat, and his lips were unbelievably pink and had a perfect pout. The man opened his mouth to protest, but quickly silenced himself from the sharp look Bill sent him. You grabbed your drink with both hands and gave the man a sultry grin as you were being pulled away.

You couldn’t hear your high heels clicking on the dance floor as Bill pulled your along with him. Your elbows bumped into a few sweaty backs and stomachs as you tried to keep up with the long legged, and literal, giraffe of a man. His massive hand clamped around your skin wrist as he walked up the curved steps to where the private booths were. You took a clumsy sip of your Malibu Sunset, whining sluggishly when a few drips slide down your chin and settle on the dip of your bare collarbones. Bill doesn’t spare you a single glance, only tightening his hand around your wrist when you try to pull away.

“Bill-”

“Quiet,” he ordered, cutting you off with a squeeze.

You pouted in your drunken haze, whining and groaning like a child that’s about to get punished. Bill ignored your childish actions of you stomping your feet and sucking your teeth. He gave the bouncer a curt nod, watching impatiently as the large bald man unclips the thick velvet rope, allowing you and Bill to enter the VIP area. There was barely any people on the high floors. Except for three girls conversing in a very serious matter, and two guys enthusiastically telling a story and laughing like a few hyenas. Bill gently yanked you to an open seat in the corner of the area, a long silk curtain hanging from the glittery ceiling. It was much quieter up here, and you can faintly hear Bill’s heavy breathing as he pushed you to the edge of the velvet couch closer to the wall.

“I didn’t expect you to move on so fucking quick,” he gruffly tells you as he takes a seat on your other side, generously taking up every space with an arm wrapped around the top of the seat.

You grumbled at the mention of your ex whom you dumped a night prior. He was too perfect and never did anything wrong. He was like a fucking Ken doll and always had everything handed to him in precise condition. You loathed it. You needed someone more free and wild and colorful, not neat and beige and plain. You didn’t sense your roommate’s jealousy by the tone of his low voice. You shrugged blankly and downed your drink in eager gulps. Your annoyance levels were gradually increasing from the sound of Bill’s laugh at your silence.

“What’s so funny, you fucking tree?” You snapped, glaring at him from the corner of your eye, brows furrowed and face pinched. “You’re just mad you can’t have me.”

“Wow, you’re a real fucking firecracker tonight, aren’t you?” Bill cackled, comfortably spreading his legs as he slumps deeper into the seat. “Listen here, peach, I can get any and every girl I want. Just with a simple look, I can get their panties wetter than the fucking ocean.”

Your eyes widened as his hot breaths spew across your sweat coated neck. You didn’t give into him, in fear of falling apart from his words and hungry stare. You clutched onto your glass tight enough to shatter. Bill grins and licks the top row of his teeth, the simple action igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach as you see him in your peripheral vision.

“What’re you thinking about, peach?” He crooned in your ear, one massive hand curling around your thigh to hike up your dress. “Are you finally believing that I’m the only man that can make you cum harder than a fucking pornstar?”

Your eyes threatened to shut as his long fingers rubbed over the thin fabric of your thong. You had worn the filthy garment in hopes of getting some tonight, but that guy from before wouldn’t leave you alone and annoyed you to the max. Bill grinned and hummed low in his throat as he pushed aside the damp fabric and swirled his fingers around your drooling cunt. Your breathing stuttered and your hand tipped the side, causing cubes of ice to flatter onto the carpeted floor. Bill laughs mockingly and and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you deeper into his side as his middle finger tapped lewdly against your swelling clit. You subconsciously spread your thighs wider when the tip of his middle finger slowly dips inside your cunt.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans deeply in your ear, the hand around your shoulder reaching down to firmly grab your breast and twist your nipples into bright red peaks. “I bet you can hear how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Your head lazily rolls to the side on his arm, your breathing speeding up and becoming more labored. Bill adds his ring finger to the mix and fucks his fingers in and out of your twitching cunt. His thumb massages your swollen clit rapidly as he crooks his fingers along your velvety and slick walls.

“B-Bill,” you choked out, one hand reaching down to grab his wrist tightly while digging your nails in his skin. “Some-Someone might see us.”

“It’s just you and me, peach,” he whispered in your ear, sucking your earlobe between his pillowy lips and dragging his tongue down your jaw.

He fucks his fingers faster and harder. His knuckles pound just below your ass cheeks, the sharp bones digging into your skin repeatedly. You opened your mouth to utter a sentence of protest, but all that comes out is a weak whimper and a strangled moan. Bill smirks at the sight of you falling apart from his fingers. He prods them harder against your walls, briefly adding a third finger, stretching you out deliciously. You let out a squeal, quickly covering your mouth with your free hand to silence yourself. Your eyes cross and twitch as you try to keep composure. Slick slides down the crease of your ass and onto the velvet seat. Bill presses his thumb harder under the hood of your clit and swipes from side to side furiously.

“Bi-Bill, I’m fu-uuuck…hhnngghh…-ah!- oh god!” You whined in your hand as you ground your hips against his long fingers, desperately clinging onto your sanity as you felt the familiar flutters and tingles in the pit of your stomach. “H-Holy fuck!”

“That’s right, peach,” he crooned. “Cum all over my fucking fingers. Cum for me. Show me who really owns this filthy cunt.”

[ginnranger]

A Strange New Student

Summary: 

Ginn is a new student in a prestigious London private school. It’s pretty obvious she is not the type to be in private school, but is that going to stop her? Honestly, she doesn’t even know the answer to that one. 

But she does have a pretty good guess, when she meets Alex, Martin, George, Louise, and Elsie. They are pretty different from her. They seem nice enough, but will her past lessons allow her let them in? Another good question. 

Word count: 6542

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

The large, stone hallways of Churchill high school were a lot less busy than Ginn’s old public school back in Liverpool. She guessed that was because barely anyone was able to afford the tuition to actually attend this school. How she got in was a complete miracle, sparked by some pretty unfortunate events.

The biggest understatement of her life.

Ginn was not used to anything that she had already faced in this new school at all, and she had only been in the building ten minutes. The students hanging around in the hallway before class were well behaved, milling around and chatting instead of running and fighting. The floors and lockers were clean, free of graffiti and chewing gum. The uniforms were the weirdest part; everyone wore it neat and proper, the boys’ ties being evenly tied, their shirts neatly tucked into their trousers, which were not sagging halfway down their butts, and their blazers free of burn holes and glue stains. The girls’ skirts were closer to the knee than the butt, their blouses also neatly tucked, and their cardigans neatly buttoned. Everyone’s shoes were perfectly shined, not a scuff in sight.

Every student had neatly styled hair, not a strand out of place. They all had perfect posture, shoulders squared and backs straight, the girls tending to keep their feet touching each other. Their faces shone with happy, satisfied smiles. There was no anger, hunger, or sadness in these people’s lives. Very different to what Ginn saw back in Liverpool. It was obvious these teenagers knew their place in the world. So did Ginn, and it was not surrounded by these people. They made that clear with their odd looks.

She stood out for many reasons around these people. For one, she was the only girl wearing trousers and a tie. Ginn flat out refused to wear a skirt, and the rules said trousers could not be worn without a tie, so she was stuck in the unflattering, unfitted, too big boy’s uniform. Her tie was relatively neat, but she had not buttoned the top of her shirt, and pulled the tie down slightly to accommodate the room the lack of a top button provided. her blazer sleeves had been rolled up slightly to accommodate her shorter arms. Her shirt was tucked in, but it was not neat. the sides of the shirt were bunched up, as she had tried to angle it in a way it was more fitted to her feminine frame. It was not working, but she felt comfortable. When Ginn stood, she leant on one leg, arms crossed, and her feet obviously not touching. Her shoulders slumped, and her hands folded into fists, no matter whether she was walking or standing. When she walked, her back curved forwards slightly, and her eyes shifted between everything that moved, glaring into every pair of eyes she met. Ginn had to be aware of everything that was happening around her. Just a little compulsion of hers. Her hair was cut short, mostly jar length, with layers getting shorter as they went up, and a fringe cut in line with her eyes, parted favouring the left side, and whilst that was not abnormal for girl, it was expected that she would make an attempt to calm and style her messy mop of ginger hair. But she didn’t. She liked it messy. It gave her an excuse to have her fringe covering her left eye. You see, Ginn had heterochromia. Her right eye was a bright, electric blue, whilst her left eye was a shining light brown, almost orange when the light hit it just right. Ginn preferred to cover her left eye with her hair, as it blended in with the orange strands better than the blue did. That, and the brown colour was not the genetic colour. Her mother had blue eyes, and her father had green eyes, so brown was definitely not a family eye colour.

Ginn could tell people were looking at her as she wondered the fancy hallways towards the administration office, though she couldn’t tell if this was because of her rough, stand-offish appearance, or the fact that it was early November, and she was a new student entering year 10. Honestly, Ginn didn’t care which one it was. She didn’t expect to form relationships with these people.

She managed to reach the administration office, where she was expected to pick up her time table and ID card, after a few minutes of cluelessly wondering around, following strange signs written in the worst font for someone like her; cursive. How is that acceptable, you may ask? It honestly isn’t, but this school had an aesthetic to stick to. Ginn was dyslexic, so anything that wasn’t block letters or her own handwriting was torture to read. As she reached the old looking, oak wood door, she straightened her back and readjusted her backpack, forcing her face to change from confrontational to neutral. This was the face she preferred to show in front of adults, as they could never figure out what emotion she was feeling so they struggled to ask her questions. She opened the door and walked up to the desk, waiting for the old woman sitting, typing on her computer, to look up at her. She did quickly, luckily.

“Hello there! What can I do for you today?” Her voice was far too perky and high pitched. It irritated Ginn’s ears. Ginn forced her face to remain neutral, pushing down her natural, uncomfortable reaction, so she could respond as quick as possible.

“I’m the new student. I was told to pick up my stuff here.”

“Ahh, yes! Ginn Ranger, am I correct?” The woman squeaked, smile never faltering.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Ginn avoided eye contact, uncomfortable with her full name being announced.

The woman rooted around the organised mess that sat on her desk, until she found the right envelope that held Ginn’s ID card and timetable. She handed it to Ginn and asked her to sit down for a moment, as the headmaster wished to speak to her before classes started. Ginn forced herself to swallow a groan as she nodded and took a seat next to the desk, facing the door to the headmaster’s office. Her leg bounced quickly as she stared into space, trying to concentrate on her thoughts rather than the loud world she lived in. She slouched in her seat after finding a comfortable place in her imagination to rest. Sadly, it only took two minutes for her to be called into Headmaster Windsor’s office.

“Hello, Miss Ranger.” Mr Windsor was far more serious. much more pleasant to Ginn’s ears. “It is a pleasure to finally have you here.”

Ginn only forced a smile as she sat awkwardly in the chair. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in every detail she could. the shelves behind Mr Windsor mostly held the textbooks this school studied. Two of the four shelves held the textbooks. one held a collection of frames, some holding pictures of what Ginn assumed to be Windsor’s family, other holding certificates. One was a certification of first aid, one an inclusivity certificate, another being Windsor’s degree in teaching. The inclusivity certificate intrigued Ginn, as she knew for a fact that this school was pretty exclusive.

‘Guess it’s for everything except class.’ She thought to herself.

The final shelf held folders, ordered by category. The first was labelled ‘Enrolment’. The second was labelled ‘Disciplinary Reports’. The third was ‘Human Resources’. The fourth one was what Mr Windsor pulled off the shelf and flicked through. It was labelled ‘Inclusive Support’. Yay.

“So, Miss Ranger-” Ginn interrupted Windsor.

“Call me Ginn.” She said quickly and sheepishly, shoving her hands under her legs to avoid her usually gesturing that annoyed so many adults. “I prefer just Ginn.”

“Ok then.” Mr Windsor peered over the top on his reading glasses, unhappy with the interruption. “Ginn. Your old school transferred us your files and records last week, and I feel we must discuss some things before you head to classes.”

Ginn bit her lip and nodded. She had always gotten pretty good scores in lessons, but she was by far the favourite student to any teacher she ever had. She had a tendency to speak her mind, even when out of terms. Especially then, actually. She also did not have the best track record when it came to peer relations. Most of her past incidents were not her fault, but she had to claim some as her own doing. What could she say? She knows how to stick up for herself.

“These records say you are a very smart young girl, you could thrive in an academic environment, if provided with the right resources. This is why our scholarship program chose you to be our first representative of the… less fortunate.” Windsor hesitated with that last part. He really needed to brush up on his appropriate language book.

‘Just say I’m poor and move on.’ Ginn thought to herself.

“However,” the dreaded sentence conjunctive. “You do have a worrying amount of negative peer relations reports. I must tell you, Ginn. Fighting is strictly prohibited on the campus of this school.”

Ginn let her voice take the lead. “What’s your stance on fighting in self-defence? Mine is that is fine to fight, as long as you don’t start it. Pretty sure those records say that’s what I did.”

Oh dear. She really should have thought before speaking.

Windsor looked exasperated. Ginn was clearly not the first wise crack he had dealt with. “I believe anything can be sorted with the right words. As long as it is reported, it will be dealt with.”

“What about the times it can’t be reported?” Ginn’s voice deepened as she became serious. “That’s what happened in my experience. I couldn’t report it, and if I could, nothing happened, so I sorted it myself. Sure you wont have to worry though. This doesn’t exactly seem like the place where fights happen.”

Windsor chuckled and nodded. “You are an interesting young lady, miss- Ginn. I’m sure you will fit in with the class I have placed you in. All of your teachers have been informed of your mental heath and learning difficulties, as per your request.”

Ginn hated how that was phrased, but she thanked him anyway. ‘Gotta try and be polite’, after all.

“I have assigned a young man to help guide you around school as you settle in.” Oh no. forced interaction. “He should be outside now.”

as Windsor finished his sentence, the phone device on his desk beeped, and the voice of the receptionist through the door sounded out, saying ‘a Mr Peterson was here to see Headmaster Windsor.’ Windsor told the receptionist to send him in, and the device buzzed, causing Ginn to cringe. That sound was horrible!

Before she could fully recover, the door opened behind her and a boy around her age walked in. He had pale white skin, with bright blond hair, shaved at the sides and combed over, the parting favouring the right side of his head. His eyes were cornflower blue, shining and bright. He had a small, wonky smile on his face as he greeted the headmaster and took a seat on Ginn’s right side.

“This is Alex Peterson. He will be, what we call, your class escort.” Windsor introduced the boy to Ginn, and the boy turned to Ginn and smiled, offering his hand to shake, which she just looked at nodded to him. Windsor broke the awkward tension between the two and continued. “He will show you around until you are comfortable with your surroundings.”

Ginn hated this idea. She could see why they implemented it, many people would want it, but she was not one of those people. She would much rather just figure it out on her own, even if it meant being late to all her classes.

“The bell is about to ring. You two should head off now.” Windsor gestured to the door, and the two teens picked up their bags and walked out.

 “So…” The boy, Alex, said, drawing out the ‘O’ sound. “Can I see your schedule? Just so I know for sure where you are?”

Ginn wordlessly shoved the piece of paper into Alex’s hand, still avoiding eye contact with him. Alex shot her a strange look, realising this was going to be so much harder than he originally thought. He did think she would be quiet, being new and all, but dang.

“Cool, you’re in mine and my friend’s form.” he handed back the paper to the new girl and started walking, being closely followed by her. “You’ll like Mr Caxton, he’s fun.”

Ginn hummed in response. God, she was not making it easy for Alex.

The bell rang and Ginn tensed, her shoulders squaring, and her fists clenching. Another loud, irritating noise. This school was just made to make her uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, Alex had noticed her reaction to the sound. “You ok? It’s just the bell, no need to worry.” he chuckled.

“Fine.” Ginn grumbled through gritted teeth. She started storming off down the corridor without a plan, and luckily Alex jogged to catch up to her before she reached the turning point.

Alex desperately wanted to break the awkward air between them, but did not know how. This girl seemed tense, understandably, as she seemed quite strange to the standards of this school, so he did not know how to approach anything with her.

“So… where you from?” Alex asked, trying to study her body language. She walked like she was trying to look tough, as well as be silent in her steps. She succeeded on both aspects as she definitely looked intimidating, and her steps barely echoed around the halls.

Ginn subtly looked Alex up and down, figuring out his motive, in both the question and with helping her. He stood straight and proud, taller than her by a good few inches. Although, that wasn’t hard, as Ginn was only 5”3’. She estimated him to be about 5”9’, and she guessed he still had room to grow. He was looking at her expectantly with a small smile, his blue eyes shining in curiosity. She could see no malice in his wonderment, so she answered.

“Liverpool.” She said, bluntly. To be exact, she lived in a small terrace house, in Roscoe Street, very close to her primary school, Pleasant Street Primary. Ginn had hopped around several high schools in the past four years, so she couldn’t say how far she lived from them. She did not live in a great area, but it was close to the city centre, and she always felt safe there with her parents. She missed Liverpool.

Alex nodded, biting the inside of his mouth in mild frustration at Ginn’s refusal so converse. “Cool. Good city. What brought you to London then?”

“Family stuff.”

The two sighed, knowing that conversation was not going to happen right now.

 The two arrived at the classroom after everyone else had arrived and sat down. Alex greeted the teacher with a cheerful ‘good morning’ and he sat down on a table for four, with two other boys, whom he greeted and immediately started chatting and laughing with. The boy sitting next to him had slightly more tanned skin than Alex, but he was still quite pale. He had neat, honey brown hair, with a full fringe that was cut just under his eyebrows, the top of head was thick with hair facing forwards, and what Ginn estimated as one inch clipped shaving around the rest of his head. His eyes were forest green, thoughtfully staring at Alex as he spoke, but also at someone on the other side of the room Ginn couldn’t locate. The other boy had his back to Ginn, but from what she could see, he had dark, sun kissed skin, and the only messy head of mahogany brown hair she had seen in this school. Well, there was an order to this mess, unlike the mess that sat on her own head. His hair was methodically spiked up, then brushed forward. He appeared to have every portion of his hair cut to a similar length, apart from the front.

Ginn heard her name and she turned, seeing the teacher beckoning her towards his desk. she walked over, head down.

“You must be Miss Ranger!” Oh god, he was perky. “Now, I like to ask before I start teaching new students, if you don’t mind, what would you like me to call you, and what pronouns shall I use for you? And are they the same in class, privately, and in front of other adults?”

Ginn blinked at the sudden questions as she let her mind catch up with her ears. “Just Ginn, thanks. Female pronouns, all the time.” She said quietly.

“Perfect.” Mr Caxton smiled softly at Ginn, then continued. “I have been told of the support you require, so don���t be afraid to approach me any time!”

Ginn felt extremely awkward, biting her lower lip, and nodding, avoiding eye contact. She always hated it when her personal stuff was brought up by other people. She knew they were only trying to help, but it never helped Ginn. all she did was nod.

“Ok, so everyone in this class has their seat. I had everyone choose to sit somewhere at the beginning of the year and that is where they sit for the rest of the year. The only available seat is across from your guide, Alex. Go sit down, and we’ll start up, ok?”

Ginn glanced over at the table of three boys. She would be sitting next to the dark-skinned boy. He looked like the more energetic person in the trio. Freaking fabulous. At least the seat was on the left side, so she wouldn’t be bumping elbows with the seemingly right-handed boy.

Ginn had nothing against boys. Truly, she didn’t. She was just very insular, and teenage boys tended to be pretty rambunctious. She also didn’t exactly have a perfect track record with relations. Not just with boys, girls too. But, well, Ginn’s short, slim stature was not a good match up when she fought with boys. Luckily, she is quick, so at least she has that going for her.

She sighed and walked over to the table, unslinging her bag off her shoulder and sat down, immediately leaning on her hand and staring at the floor. She dazed, and started thinking about what she could draw. She thought of characters from tales she enjoyed, and she started moving her finger on one spot of the table, mimicking drawing. This was something she did when uncomfortable. Actually drawing is much better, but she hated showing others her stuff, so rarely drew when sitting at a table with strangers. Or classmates, as she should call them.

the three boys had noticed Ginn sitting down, and turned to her to smile and greet her, but she was avoiding all eye contact. Alex shrugged, realising this was going to be his week. Boy to Ginn’s right decided to break the awkward silence by introducing himself.

He went to speak, nudging her first to get he attention, but before he could speak, she jumped at the sudden touch, tensing her shoulders and clenched her fists, straightening her back and gasping lightly. Her duel coloured eyes stayed locked staring forwards, and she took a few breaths before she snapped her head to look at the boy and growl, “What?”

Now she could see his face, she took in his features. He looked nervous, likely due to Ginn’s aggressive nature. He had warm, russet brown eyes that where currently wide in shock. He was handsome, with a square jaw, and strong cheekbones. His mouth was tight in shock at her reaction. Luckily for him, he recovered quickly. His eyes softened into a more relaxed form, and his tight mouth morphed into a cool side smile.

“Hey,” his voice was smooth and joyous. Enjoyable to Ginn’s ears. Wait what? “I’m Martin Williams. This is George Groden, and you’ve met Alex. It seems like we’re desk mates!”

Ginn struggled to relax her muscles from the sudden touch. She swallowed and forced her hands to open as she shoved them under her thighs. Her voice was failing her, so she just looked back at the table and nodded, humming ‘mm hmm’.

The boy, Martin, made eye contact with the other two, concerned by the reaction. He decided to pry a little, tying to get Ginn out of her shell. “Ginn, right? Interesting name, never heard it before. Where’s it come from?”

Ginn was shocked by the question. Usually when people found out about her name, they made a joke about alcoholic parents, or threw out guesses as to what it was short for. Her name was Ginn. Not Ginera, or Ginevra, or even Geneva, shockingly. This question made Ginn happy, and her vocal cords decided to work.

“It’s a combination of Gill and Finn.” Ginn kept her head down but was smiling lightly for the first time in a while. “Gill was my mum’s mum, and Finn was dad’s dad. They wanted to honour both of them, so it was either Ginn or Fill, and Ginn was pretty gender neutral.”

She huffed in amusement at that last bit. the story of her naming was always interesting to her, especially when you think of the whole story of a young pregnant woman and her husband staring at each other, trying to make the other back down, until they came to the compromise of combining the names.

“That’s cool!” Martin said, enthusiastically. “You have such an interesting story! I’m just names after my grandad!”

Ginn smiled, amused by the boy’s excitement.

Before they could continue, the teacher cleared his throat and started the lesson. It was English. This was not the best subject for Ginn due to her dyslexia, but she had a creative mind, and enjoyed story telling, so it wasn’t so bad. Well, unless they were reading old stuff, like Shakespeare or Jane Austen, they were utter torture for Ginn’s brain. Sadly, that is exactly what they were doing. Romeo and Juliet, to be exact. They started the lesson reading the play, the characters being assigned to a random assortment of students. Ginn struggled to follow along as they worked, not understanding anything they were saying. The words were floating around the page, lines and letters flipping and swapping place, it was giving her a headache. It didn’t help that the most dramatic character in the play, Mercutio, was being voiced by Martin, who was slowly becoming more and more dramatic in his reading, his movements rocking the table, making reading even harder for her.

After they had finished the first four scenes, Mr Caxton instructed the class to discuss them as a table. Ginn was thankful for this as she could finally rest her eyes for a minute. She rubbed her eyes and led her hands up to brush her hair up out of her face, letting it fall how it wanted, which was apparently not in front of her eyes. She looked at the trio of boys expectantly, waiting for a conversation to start, when she noticed they were all staring at her. Alex looked shocked, staring curiously, eyes switching between each of her eyes. George seemed curious, one eyebrow raised, and a small smile spread on his lips. Martin was far too excited for Ginn’s taste.

“Woah!! You have heterochromia?!” He said far too loud. “That’s so cool!”

Ginn quickly dipped her head and brushed her fringe over her brown eye, feeling her face flush red.

“If you say so...” She muttered under her breath.

This conversation was clearly going nowhere, much to the dismay of the three boys. Ginn was obviously not a conversation person, and the boys were not interested in discussing Shakespeare, so decided to further press.

“You don’t think so?” George questioned.

“Let’s just say it’s not my favourite thing about myself.” Ginn grumbled, shooting them a sarcastic and awkward smile. The boys shared a look, all expressing different thoughts and emotions. Martin locked eyes with his friends, then looked at Ginn quickly, and back at them, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking. The boys shot him warning looks, but he ignored it, turning around to look at Ginn, leaning his elbow on the table and putting his head on his hand, wearing his flirtatious, lopsided smirk.

“Well,” He said, making Ginn look us at him. Once she saw his face, she huffed, rolling her eyes, and looked back down at her work. “I think they are beautiful, completing the gorgeous image you hold all over.”

Ginn felt panic rise in her chest. She had never been complimented like that before from the mouth of someone who... had little to no obvious ill intentions. This boy did not seem to be particularly threatening, but still, Ginn could not be help but be wary. She clenched her fist around her pen in panic, as her defence mechanisms snapped into position.

“Say anything like that again,” She turned and glared at Martin through her hair. “And I break your hand.”

Martin tensed up, squeaking in fear as his arm slipped off the table in surprise. Ginn did not break eye contact, however, needing to maintain her tough exterior.

“Well ok then.” He squeaked. Pleased with herself, Ginn looked back down at her work, deciding to do the work herself. The boys fell silent and just did the work, quietly discussing Shakespeare out of fear for their hands.

At the end of the class, after a long lesson of awkward silence between the four tablemates, the boys packed up and met with Elsie and Louise. Ginn had rushed out of the classroom a lot quicker that the others, so Alex had already failed at his job of making sure she was ok. This was going to be a rough day.

 The final class of the day was P.E. Luckily for Ginn, sport was something she excelled in. Unluckily for Ginn, she had to get changed in front of other people, which was less than ideal.

Alex instructed her to follow Louise and Elsie to the girls’ changing rooms. Ginn kept her head down and shuffled along with the other girls as they chatted, complaining about the lesson they were going into.

“P.E. sucks, I hate it so much!” Louise groaned, dramatically. “I mean, I like exercise, but the structure of P.E. is so messy, and its so boring!”

“I know!” Agreed Elsie. “It’s even worse right now, doing those weird drill things.”

Ginn perked up at that comment. If they were anything like the ones she used to do in Cadets, she was golden! She didn’t look at the other girls, but she did smile and huff in satisfaction.

“You like P.E., Ginn?” Said Louise, sounding surprised. The girl looked Ginn up and down quizzically. She did not exactly fit the typical description of a fit girl. She looked very skinny, but Louise guessed that was mainly due to her oversized uniform.

Ginn hesitated with her answer, wondering how to answer without sounding weird. “Yeah, kind of. I like exercise, and I’m used to pretty strict sessions, so nothing really bothers me much anymore.”

The other girls seemed satisfied with her answer luckily.

After only moments, the three girls had reached the girls’ changing room. As the tried to find a free section of bench to place their bags and clothes, Ginn was silently praying that no one would pay attention to her so she could change and slip out unnoticed. She utterly hated changing in public. Sadly, her prayers were not answered, as the only available space was on a bench in the middle of the room, with a group of chatty girls surrounding it. Perfect. The three set down their bags and started undressing, quickly swapping from blouse to P.E. polo shirt. Ginn was particularly mad about their easy method of swapping from skirt to shorts without presenting their underwear; slipping the shorts on under their skirts, then taking off the skirt from above. Ginn, wearing trousers, had no such luxury, so had to take advantage of her too big shirt and take off her trousers, hoping they would cover her behind as she slipped the shorts on. Now for the bit she dreaded: changing from shirt to polo. She wanted to do this as quickly as possible, but struggled due to her ever growing anxiety. She slipped off her tie and unbuttoned her shirt, then readied her polo shirt to be the correct way to slip on as soon as she rid her back of it’s professional cotton attire. Quickly, she took off the shirt, and immediately heard what she feared.

Louise and Elsie had gasped, quietly. They had finished changing and lacing up their trainers, and were waiting for Ginn to finish changing so they could walk out together, and happened to glance up when they saw her take off her shirt. The two girls were sitting on Ginn’s right, so they could see what Ginn was worried about clear as day. Right across her back, from the bottom of her shoulder blade, creeping up to the top curve of her right shoulder, were two long, pale, jagged, and bumpy scars. They looked awful, and the two girls were certain that they were from a horrible incident from a long time ago. This scared them, as they worried about Ginn’s safety and current situation.

Before they could say anything, Ginn tugged her polo shirt over her head, hiding the scars before anyone could ask questions, or, god forbid, anyone else saw them. Louise opened her mouth to speak. She was not sure what she would say, but it was instinct. Before she could make a sound, however, Ginn shot her a warning glare, her blue eye shining like a lightning storm, her amber eye shimmering like a raging fire. Her lips were tight and eyebrows knitted in a tight V-shape. Her ginger hair had fallen before her face, blocking the light from reaching her face, only making the looming pit of aggression in Ginn’s aura stronger. Her fists were tight. Louise only just realised the new girl’s flat and scarred knuckles. Louise immediately shut her mouth. She offered an awkward, slightly scared smile, but Ginn just straightened her back, slipped on her battered old trainers, and started towards the door. Louise and Elsie shared a concerned look, then darted up and dashed to keep up with Ginn, who had suddenly developed a quick, strong stride.

Once all of the students had gathered in the sports hall, the P.E. teacher, Mr Dullan, called registration and introduced the aim of today’s class. The class knew they would not like this lesson. Mr Dullen was clearly in a bad mood, he was completely stiff and glaring at everyone who made eye contact with him. Ginn was not happy when he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to face him when she marched into the hall, so he could interrogate her about who she was. He seemed satisfied after a full 30 seconds of comparing her to the ID picture that was on his register. But, this was a respectable school that definitely would not accept her doing what she wanted to do at that moment, and tuition was far too expensive for her to be kicked out on her first day, so she let it go.

“Ok, everyone!” Mr Dullen shouted, making a huge, distracting echo ring around the room. Ginn knew she would barely be able to understand him immediately. “I don’t want to deal with teaching you all today, so you’re just going to do run laps around the school grounds all lesson.”

The entire class groaned and started quietly complaining to themselves and their friends. Well, all except Ginn, who enjoyed running. Also, the echo in this room was getting to her, and she was finding it hard to concentrate. She silently thanked every deity she knew of that the run was outside.

“Alright, alright, quit the complaining!” Mr Dullen yelled, making Ginn bunch up the hem of her polo shirt in her hand to squeeze. She found early on that this was a better coping mechanism than her automatic reaction, which was covering her ears and gripping locks of hair and pulling. Distractions from bad noises are always oh so fun. Mr Dullen carried on, interrupting Ginn’s thoughts, “Everyone get your butts outside!”

The crowd of grumbling students headed towards the doors leading to the yard so they could start the run. Before Ginn could disappear into the crowd and go off to enjoy her run, Louise had grabbed her wrist and started to speak.

“Hey, are you ok? We should talk abo—”

“Do not touch me!” Ginn growled, ripping her hand away from Louise, immediately marching off in a strong, quick pace.

As soon as she set foot on the outside area of the school grounds and witnessed part of the crowd all heading in the same direction, she started her rounds of the school with a light jog, preparing her body and lungs for a long, pleasant run. She really needed to calm her mind, after everything that had happened today, especially in the last few minutes.

 Louise was incredibly confused by that reaction. She had noticed Ginn tense up and ball her shirt in her fist, and she knew Ginn had not calmed down from whatever emotion she was feeling after presenting those scars in the changing rooms.

“What was that about?” George said, the four friends walking up to Louise so they could walk the laps of the grounds together.

“She’s seemed pretty tense all day.” Alex offered. “Maybe you just scared her and she reacted.”

She definitely has something she’s hiding.” Elsie said, as the group wondered outside and started walking. “She had two huge scars on her back. She got real tense, more than usual, when we saw them.”

“Let’s go find out what’s up with her.” Louise said, determination in her voice. Then, she sounded unsure. “If we can catch up to her...”

Ginn was no where to be seen as they walked their round. They knew this because Ginn was extremely noticeable in the crowd of students, being one of the only people in the school with ginger hair. She was even more noticeable because her hair was messy and choppily cut short, and her P.E. kit, like her uniform, was too big and looked it. They walked quickly around the grounds, talking and looking around. Ginn was nowhere to be seen.

“She must actually be running.” Martin shrugged. “That girl is an enigma.”

“An enigma you’re crushing on!” Alex said teasingly, elbowing his friend in the side and laughing.

“Shut up!” Martin pushed Alex to the side, a crimson blush rising in his cheeks. “I am not!”

“Then what was that comment in the changing room about?” George smirked and raised and eyebrow.

“Ok!” Martin’s dramatic flare revealed itself as dramatically waved his hand in the air and pointing at nothing in particular. “You have to admit, she is quite pretty!”

Martin stared a the group, waiting expectantly for their response, to which he got a couple nods, but mostly just looks of ‘my dear boy, calm yourself’.

The group continued to walk around the school grounds, giving up on searching for the strange new girl, she was far gone and they could not see her at all. The lesson went by relatively quickly, the group only lapping the school once and only going another 20 yards before Mr Dullen blew his whistle and called everyone into the changing rooms five minutes before the final bell rang. The five friends wondered back into the school, avoiding the stares of disapproval from Mr Dullen.

Louise and Elsie were slowly changing out of their kits when Ginn finally appeared by their side. She was sweating slightly, despite the November chill outside, and her breaths were long, quick, and laboured. As expected, she did not greet the girls, she just started changing, first preparing her shirt to be quickly thrown on after she removed her polo. Louise and Elsie tried not to look at her, feeling her haste and discomfort with being around people after what happened earlier. However, Louise is a pretty stubborn girl, so waited for Ginn to finish changing before she confronted her.

“Hey, where were you all class?” Louise tried to keep her voice perky and welcoming, rather than the interrogating tone she almost used. “we were looking for you when you ran off.”

Ginn let out a small growl of annoyance. “Ahead of everyone. Just needed to run.”

She removed her shorts, her shirt covering her underwear, and slipped on her trousers, then sat down to put on her school shoes. She never looked at Louise. Not that that was expected. This girl is so strange.

“You must be quick then!” Louise laughed lightly. Ginn just hummed. “It’s pretty impressive, running is pretty hard.”

This made Ginn’s head snap up, shooting Louise a confused look. “How is it hard?”

Louise and Elsie shared an amused look. Elsie laughed lightly and said, “You know, keeping pace without losing your breath, stuff like that.”

Ginn hummed thoughtfully whilst finishing up lacing her shoes. Once she was done, she stood and picked up her bag, just in time for the final bell to ring. Ginn attempted to supress her cringe at the sound, but her efforts were in vane, as the other two girls noticed. Luckily for Ginn, all they did was share a look and stand with their bags.

“Not sure I follow, but ok.” Ginn broke the silence, starting to walk out alone. However, Louise and Elise had other plans, both speeding to catch up to her and standing on either side.

“You’re a real enigma, you know?” Louise chuckled. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Ginn glared at her, a quiet and low growl echoing from the bottom of her throat. Her eyes raged, like a fearsome lightning storm and a blazing fire. Even though she is a very small person, Ginn knew how to make herself look large and terrifying.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Erm... well, I... I just meant that you, well,” Louise stuttered and squeaked, as if she were learning how to speak again. “I just mean that you’re, you know, pretty mysterious...”

Ginn grunted and said something like ‘that’s the point’ as she stormed off, out of the building and around the corner towards the front gates, not to be seen again that day.

“Well, you kinda fucked that one up, huh?” Elsie chortled anxiously.

“Thanks for helping there Els. Come on, let’s just go find the boys.”

Alex, George, and Martin exited the boys changing room a few minutes later. The girls explained what happened as they walked out of the school and back home. The only thing they could all agree on when it came to Ginn: She would be very difficult to befriend.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

They Do Protest

The rules for the prom are that couples must wear suits and dresses, and Harris is determined to make sure that those rules are followed despite the fact that Cora detests wearing dresses. Stiles, however, has a plan.

“Couples must wear suits and dresses,” Lydia recited, dropping her face into her hands.  “Harris was addiment on it.”

Cora sat across from her, her eyes focused on the table between them. She was hugging herself, shifting slightly in her seat.

“Cora,” Lydia started slowly, but her words fell short of her lips.

“It’s fine,” Cora muttered, not looking up at them.

“No, it’s not,” Stiles objected. “It’s not fair that you should feel uncomfortable because Harris feels threatened when someone doesn’t obey his archaic gender norms.”

The pack all turned, staring at Stiles with matching shocked expressions.

“What?” Stiles said.

Isaac brushed it off. He reached out and set his hand on Cora’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to Coach, or Miss Morell, someone will listen.”

Stiles slouched back against the wall, turning the piece of paper over in his hands. He looked down at the rules, reading the over again.

FORMAL DRESS CODE:

Students are expected to dress in formal attire, either a suit or a dress that meets the following criteria:

Full length dress, tuxedo, or suit must be worn appropriately.  No sagging pants or jeans.

Collared dress shirt with long sleeves, worn with a tie/bow tie (exception: tux shirt with a decorative button). Shirts must remain on & tucked in for the entire dance.

Must wear jackets or blazers with suits, not just shirts or vests.

Formal dresses cannot be shorter than fingertip length with arms fully extended.

Dress slits may not be higher than fingertip length with arms fully extended.

Bare midriffs and plunging necklines are not allowed. No cut outs. Two-piece top/skirt, outfits must cover midriff.

No see-through material that exposes midriff, excessive cleavage, or thighs.

The back of the dress may not be lower than the middle of the back or bra.

No bandanas, chains, baseball caps, or canes.

No matter how many times he read the same words, it still made his blood boil.

He turned the piece of paper over in his hands, again and again. He froze, a thought striking him. He read over the rules one more time.

“Lydia,” he said, looking across the room to where the strawberry-blonde sat. “What were Harris’s exact words?”

“‘Couples must wear suits and dresses’,” Lydia quoted.

A devilish smirk played across his lips, his eyes lit up with a glint of mischief as he said, “I have an idea.”

“You do realise that for this to work, everyone has to get on board,” Lydia pointed out.

“We could everyone on our side,” Isaac said.

“What about Jackson?” Erica asked.

“And Derek,” Boyd added.

“I’ll lean on Jackson,” Lydia said, a hint of finality in her voice.

“I’ll talk to Derek,” Cora volunteered.

Scott looked around at his friends. “This might just work.”

“Of course it’s going to work,” Stiles scoffed. “It’s my plan.”

The school gym had been transformed. Long ribbons of flowing white fabric had been draped from the ceiling, radiating from the central point in the room and pinned back against the walls so that the middle hung slightly and the ends cascaded down the walls like curtains of falling water. The parts where the fabric had been pinned to the ceiling or to the walls were decorated with hanging strands of crystal-like beads, the glass chunks shimmering and glinting as they caught the light.

The pack had gathered off to the side.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he looked around at his classmates. If he was being honest, he never would have thought they’d go through with it. He expected to turn up and see only the pack sticking to the plan. But Lydia had seemed to work her magic; she’d convinced the school to flip the dress code for prom: girls wore suits, and guys wore dresses.

Stiles was dressed in a flowing white chiffon dress with pink peonies pained on it. It had a split in the front that let the fabric drift freely around his legs and stopped him from tripping over the hem. The skirt gathered around his slender waist, accentuating the dip of the V-neck and delicate shoestring straps.

Cora stood beside him, dressed in a fitted navy-blue tuxedo and looking fabulous. A radiant smile lit up her face. The lapels were decorated with gold embroidery and beading that matched Isaac’s outfit.

Isaac wore a two-piece dress made of velvety navy-blue material. The top was drawn into a Grecian neckline and covered in gold lace and beading. The waistband of the skirt hugged his slim waist, high enough that barely a centimetre of his pale skin was left exposed. The hem of the skirt was higher at the front, sitting at his knees while the back sat around his heels, revealing the pattern of the same gold detailing, beading and lace that ran along the inside hem of the skirt.

Scott stood beside him, wearing a two-tone dress that had a silver-beaded top and a flowing purple silk skirt. He had his arm around Allison’s waist, gently tugging at her black suit jacket to pull her closer and smiling as he nuzzled his face into her shoulder.

Boyd wore a forest-green dress, simple and elegant. The A-line skirt flowed from his hips, the top held up by the asymmetrical strap that was decorated with lace. He still managed to look powerful, like a Roman soldier.

His dress matched Erica’s tie and the faint embroidered pattern of the suit she wore. She and Boyd had had their matching outfits planned for months, so it was as easy as swapping, and adjusting the sizes slightly. Boyd’s mother had taken in the suit to fit her—all the while laughing at the brilliance their plan and offering to help the others adjust their outfits.

Lydia wove her way through the crowd, making her way over to them. She looked stunning in a black tuxedo and black heels. She wore a velvety red tie that made the cascading waves of strawberry-blonde hair look richer in colour.

Stiles blinked in surprise when Jackson appeared behind her, wearing a wine-red floor-length gown. The straps that sat off his broad shoulders, following the curve of the sweetheart neckline where the ruched fabric crossed over his chest. The long skirt was draped around his legs, a thigh-high split up the left side.

“I thought I’d die before I ever saw you in a dress,” Stiles said as Jackson joined them.

“Had you asked me, I would have said no,” Jackson said. He turned to look at Cora, smiling softly as he gently patted her arm.

Cora smiled in return and mouthed ‘Thank you’.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I feel pretty,” Stiles said, swishing the fabric of his skirt.

Boyd rolled his eyes and Jackson groaned, “And you ruined it.”

Across the dancefloor, Stiles spotted Danny wearing a blush-pink gown made of a soft, flowing fabric. It was a strapless gown with a curved neckline that dipped down his chest. The fitted corset was decorated with white, pearl and pink beading and hints of pastel pink floral lace that trailed past the waistline and onto the flowing skirt.

His date – Ethan – wore a tailored grey suit with a pearl-white tie and a pink handkerchief tucked into the breast pocket.

They were all there—everyone but Derek, at least.

“Where’s Derek?” Allison asked, glancing at Cora.

She shrugged. “He dropped me off at Scott’s place earlier and then went home.”

“Is he not coming?” Erica asked, shocked.

“I got a text from him saying he was going to be late,” Stiles said. “He told us to go without him; he’ll catch up.”

Lydia looked from Stiles to Cora. “Do you think he’ll go along with it?”

“I don’t know,” Cora admitted.

“Heads up,” Isaac said, nodding at the man who shoved his way through the crowd and stormed across the room to their sides.

“What is the meaning of this?” Harris snapped, livid.

Stiles glanced at his friends, feigning confusion. “The meaning of what?”

“Stop this nonsense right now,” Harris ordered, his face flushed red with rage. His eyes locked onto Stiles. “Go get changed right now or I’ll write you all up on dress code violations and have you suspended for this.”

“For what?” Stiles asked.

“Don’t try and be smart with me, Stilinski.”

Stiles turned to Lydia. “Lydia, do you have the—?"

She dug into her jacket pocket, handing him a piece of paper.

“‘Couples must wear suits and dresses’,” Stiles recited. “Those were your words. And we’re just doing as we were told.” He gestured at the teens around him. “The couples are wearing suits and dresses. And while I don’t have a date, I thought I’d wear a dress since—” He unfolded the piece of paper in his hand and held it up for Harris to see. “—nowhere in these rules does it say that guys can’t wear dresses.”

“This is ridiculous,” Harris snarled.

“You want to pull us up on dress code infringement?” Stiles continued. “What exactly are we infringing?” He turned the paper around and began to read through the rules, “Full length dresses, tuxedos, or suits must be worn.”

He looked down at himself before turning and sizing up his friends.

“Check. Collared dress shirts with long sleeves, worn with a tie or bow tie and tucked in. Must wear jackets or blazers.”

He turned and looked at the girls who made a show of showing off the sleeves, ties, tucked-in shirts, and jackets.

“Check and check,” Stiles repeated. “Dress slits may not be higher than fingertip length.”

Stiles and Jackson straightened their arms, measuring the height of the slits in their skirts.

“Check,” Stiles repeated, smirking as Harris’s face began to twitch with fury. He continued, “Bare midriffs and plunging necklines are not allowed. No cut outs. Two-piece outfits must cover midriff. No see-through material or excessive cleavage.”

He glanced at Isaac. “That’s—what?—two millimetres of skin, you can hardly call that a midriff. And last I checked, I don’t have cleavage,” he said, glancing down at the deep V-neck of his dress. “Let alone, ‘excessive’ cleavage. So, check.”

“No bandanas, chains, baseball caps, or canes. Check,” Stiles finished, handing the piece of paper back to Lydia. “We followed your rules to the letter, so what exactly are you pulling us up on?”

Danny and Ethan joined them.

All eyes were on them, the music dimmed slightly as everyone watched on.

“Mr Steiner might be the only one here who listened to the rules,” Harris growled.

“The rules stated that couples had to wear dresses and suits,” Ethan recited. He slid his hand into Danny’s, lacing their fingers together and giving Danny’s hand a gentle squeeze. “One of us had to wear the suit, and Danny looks better in a dress than I ever could.”

Harris looked as if his head were about to explode.

Silence fell over the room as everyone turned towards the double doors that led into the gym.

Stiles turned, his jaw dropping and his heart skipping a beat.

Derek stood in the doorway, wearing a sky-blue dress with off-the-shoulder straps, a fitted corset and a ballgown skirt that was decorated with embroidered white flowers and trailing vines. Small pearls were embedded in the thin tulle overlay of the skirt, making it shimmer in the dim light, the fabric rippling and swaying like the ocean as Derek made his way through the crowd and over to them.

Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off him, his lips shaking slightly as he struggled for find his voice.

“You’re all suspended,” Harris snapped, pointing an accusing finger at all of them.

“We’ve got a game in three days,” Jackson said, his face deadpan as he levelled his cold eyes on Harris. “Good luck telling Coach you suspended the entire lacrosse team.”

“And the basketball team,” Derek added.

“Especially without reason,” Isaac furthered.

“What’s going on?” Coach asked, making his way through the crowd and over to their sides.

“Finstock,” Harris said with relief. “Maybe you can put an end to this nonsense.”

“We’re not breaking any rules,” Lydia said, pulling the piece of paper from her jacket pocket again and passing it to Coach Fisntock.

Coach read it over, his face twisted in thought.

“Stilinski,” he finally said after a long silence.

“Yes, Coach?” Stiles replied, shaking himself from this stupor.

“I take it this was your idea; it seems like something you’d think up.”

“Yes, Coach,” Stiles admitted.

“May I ask, why?”

“The prom is meant to be one night when us kids can have fun, but there are so many rules about what we can or can’t wear that it’s become more stressful than fun,” Stiles explained. “Especially for girls. The fact that girls are told that they have to wear dresses to the prom is just stupid; they should be able to wear a suit if they want. There’s a gender bias in the school regulations when it comes to clothing infringements, and not just for the prom.”

Coach nodded thoughtfully. He glanced from the piece of paper to each of them, his face composed as his eyes rolled over them.

“Well, I don’t see any rules you’re breaking,” Coach said, passing the piece of paper back to Lydia. “Have a nice time.”

“Thanks, Coach,” they all replied in unison.

“I’ll talk to the school board and see what we can do about these rules,” Coach said. “And not just for prom.” He turned to walk away but stopped, turning back to them “And, Stilinski—”

“Yes, Coach?”

“Nice dress.”

“Thank you, Coach,” Stiles said, smiling.

Harris opened his mouth to argue but Coach shot him a look that silenced him. Finstock nodded towards the door and Harris followed him outside.

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He turned and looked at the expressions of relief on his friend’s faces.

“I told you it’d work,” he said.

Jackson patted him on the back. “I’ve got to admit, I had my doubts.” He turned his attention to Derek, looking him over as he said, “Cinderella made it to the ball after all.”

“Laura had to make a few last-minute adjustments,” Derek said quietly, smoothing his hands over the ruffles of his skirt.

“Well, I think you look beautiful,” Erica said.

Cora threw her arms around her brother’s shoulders, her voice drowned out by the music as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Derek held her close, talking softly to her. He gently smoothed down her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown on her head before setting her down on her feet.

“So, do we get changed now, or—?” Isaac asked.

“Well, the theme of the prom is ‘guys wear dresses, girls wear suits’,” Lydia said. “But if you want to get changed—”

“No,” Isaac replied. He glanced down. His cheeks flushed pink as his slender fingers toyed with the hem of his top. “I kind of like wearing this.”

“Come on, let’s dance,” Erica said, looping her arm through Boyd’s and letting him lead her towards the dancefloor.

Ethan smiled sweetly at Danny, gently tugging at his hand.

Cora took Isaac’s hand and pulled him away, followed by Scott and Allison and then Lydia and Jackson, leaving Stiles and Derek standing on their own in the corner of the room.

“You look incredible,” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself.

Derek let out a breathless laugh, smiling bashfully as he bowed his head. He bit into his lip gently and looked up at Stiles through his lashes. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Stiles felt his face flush red as he smiled.

“Do you—do you want to dance?” Derek asked.

“Can you dance in that?” Stiles asked, nodding towards Derek’s dress.

“Probably not,” Derek laughed. He held his hand out. “But I’ll give it a go if it means I get to dance with you.”

Stiles took the hand Derek offered, the two of them making their way over to the dancefloor as the melody slowed and the song began to fade into the next, Derek guided Stiles’ hands up to his shoulders, settling his hands on Stiles’ waist.

Derek took the lead. He began to move, holding Stiles close as he swayed back and forth, slowly at first.

Stiles curled into Derek more, inhaling his soft musk and settled into a sense of safety and comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time. He let his mind drift away as they swayed back and forth.

Stiles shifted slightly, resting his cheek on Derek's shoulder and watching as the strings of fairy lights danced around them.

[AO3]