#do i like to imagine the three of them having date night and plotting? yes

[birdb1tch]

i was gonna fill out the whole thing, but if im being honest i only made it to make the evil polycule joke about zara, jace and porter

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[f1goat]

more than friends ; lando norris + part seven

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six

Lando almost spits out the sip of his drink he just took. Did he hear that correct? It can’t be, right? His face fall flat when Pierre looks al him while waiting for his answer. Does he really need to answer this? Pierre just asked him if you’re - or in Pierre’s words: his friend, still single. Oscar is also looking at Lando, waiting for the boy to react. The boys are having dinner with each other to end this race weekend and chat. You’re still at the hotel, not wanting to interrupt Lando his boys night. He did however try to get you along with him. He should have stayed with you.

“Lando?” Pierre asks.

“Uh, which friend do you mean?” Lando reacts. He knows for sure it’s about you, but he hopes it’s not. He can’t even imagine who else Pierre could mean. There aren’t more female friends of his who are joining him to the races often. It’s always you. Fucking Pierre.

“The one who is with you almost every race,” Pierre says, “What’s her name again?” 

Great Pierre wants to know if you’re single, but he doesn’t even know your name. It annoys Lando already. Before he can answer his question, Daniel is already speaking. 

“You mean Y/N,” Daniel interrupts. Pierre starts nodding right away, “Yes! Is she still single?”

Oscar stares at Lando. He wonders how Lando is going to react to this. Whatever will happen next can’t be good. It doesn’t surprise him when Lando takes a big gulp of the strong drink in front of him before looking at Pierre again. Oscar lets out a small sigh, this can’t be going well. 

“Yeah, she is,” Lando eventually answers. It pains him to have to say those words. Why are you still single? Why isn’t he making sure that you’re his? Then all this problems would have been solved. He only has to confess that he has been in love with you since he was ten or something, totally easy to do. Fuck.

“Great,” Pierre replies happily, “I’m thinking about asking her on a date soon.”

“You want to date Y/N?” Max asks confused, “Do you even know her?” 

Lando is glad about Max his reaction. He wonders the exact same thing. Oscar is also happy about Max asking questions instead of Lando. Since his teammate is sending angry glares towards the Alpine driver, he almost looks like he wants to kill him. Oscar wonders what’s going on in Lando his head right now, but he’s pretty sure that it’s the same thing as when he told him about Logan wanting to date Y/N. He doesn’t understand why Lando isn’t already dating you.

“Don’t know her yet,” Pierre says with a small smirk.

“I don’t think you’ll match with her,” Lando states. Before Pierre or anyone else can question his statement, Lando already continues to talk. “You’re not her type and I don’t even know if she’s yours when I look at your exes. Y/N doesn’t like to go out all the time, she wants someone to settle with her instead of some meaningless relation which will last a couple months.” Oscar can’t withhold a small laugh, his friend really is the worst.

“I’m changing,” Pierre states, “I want to settle as well and with her.”

“Why her?” Max butts in.

“She’s really good looking,” Pierre answers without even thinking about a better answer. It causes Lando to let out another sigh. Does Pierre only want you for your looks? Doesn’t he even realize what you have to offer beside them? Lando thinks about all you actually have to offer beside being beautiful. He loves how smart you are, but how you can also match his dumb questions sometimes. You can read multiple books on a day, but have trouble with pronouncing the most simple words. Or the way you -

“So do you have her number for me?” Pierre interrupts his thoughts.

“My phone is empty,” Lando quickly replies.

Oscar notices the next big gulp Lando takes from his drink. He also notices the sad, annoyed look on his friends face. Maybe Lando thinks nobody is paying attention to him when he whispers again, but Oscar hears it perfectly. “Fuck,” Lando grunts annoyed, “”Why does everyone want her.”

The night doesn’t continue smoothly like before. Pierre makes multiple remarks about you, which causes Lando to get even more annoyed and to drink even more. The people who are a bit closer with Lando and know him pretty well - like Oscar, Max and Daniel, are quick to notice to jealousy which doesn’t leave Lando his mind anymore. He can only think about Pierre who wants to date you. When Daniel starts to order multiple shots in order to help Lando ‘forget’, Oscar is already afraid for the outcome. Lando is getting more drunk with the second. This can’t go well. 

When almost everyone has left, Oscar is the one who still pays attention to Lando. He doesn’t dare to leave his friend alone like this. He wonders how Lando will ever get back to the hotel without any help. Eventually he takes Lando outside with him, walking towards a taxi with him. He sighs when he thinks about the other drivers who already left without even thinking about their drunk friend. 

The taxi driver is glad to bring them back to the hotel, the only problem seems to be Lando. He doesn’t want to get in the cab. Oscar realizes that Lando is even more drunk then he already thought. He curses Pierre for his god awful remarks about you but also curses Daniel for all the shots. He’s all alone with Lando, who doesn’t want to get in any cab right now. 

“You don’t understand, I want Y/N to come pick me up,” Lando states drunkly when Oscar asks him about his reasons to not want to take the taxi. 

“If you’re getting in the cab you’ll be with her sooner,” Oscar states.

“I want her to pick me up,” Lando slurs.

“I can’t call her awake for this,” Oscar argues.

“Yes you can,” Lando argues back, “She’ll come.”

The taxi driver is already focusing on other people, who are actually getting into the car instead of arguing next to it. Eventually the taxi drives away. Oscar curses Pierre again, this is all his fault. Okay and maybe partly Lando his fault. Why isn’t he just honest about his feelings for you? The two of you should be dating already. How hard can it be.

“Are you going to call her?” Lando asks. It causes Oscar to snap back into reality. He looks at the hopeful eyes of his drunk friend. Eventually he shows him a small nod. Maybe when Lando realizes that you don’t want to pick them up, he’ll get him in a cab. He searches for your contact in his phone and presses the call button. When he hears the phone goes over, he thinks that it might have been smarter to call you with Lando his phone. Before he can change anything, you already pick up the phone. 

“Hi Oscar, what’s up?” You ask him with a surprised tone in your voice.

“Hey, sorry for calling you this late. I hope I didn’t awake you?” Oscar says with a guilty feeling.

“Oh no,” you’re quick to reassure him, “I was still up, I’m waiting for Lando to get back. I can’t sleep peacefully when he’s still out.”

Oscar really wants to slap the both of you until you’re dating each other. Why aren’t you dating yet? He’s getting more tired about the obliviousness between you two with the day. 

“Uh, okay,” he reacts, “Listen, Lando is really drunk and I can’t get him in a cab. He wants you to pick us up. Sorry. I already tried to get him into multiple cabs but with no succes.”

He doesn’t get a quick response this time. Oscar does however hear some vague sounds on your side of the call. Are you actually getting ready to pick them up? Oscar doesn’t believe it. It would be more logical for you to ask to speak to Lando and tell him he needs to get into the cab. He waits for you to say something. 

“Can you text me the location?” You ask Oscar eventually, “I’m already walking towards the car.” 

Oscar doesn’t know how to react at first. He feels extremely confused. Are you really this quick to drop everything so you can come pick up Lando? He now knows for sure that Lando needs to question himself. Lando should ask you to date directly. The two of you should be dating already. This is just plain stupid.

“Yes, yes!” He says to you, “Thank you so much.” Even with all his confused feelings right now, he’s still glad that you’re already getting into the car. You’re making his night a lot easier. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” you tell Oscar before ending the call. Oscar is quick to send you his location and sits down next to Lando on the pavement. Lando sends him a hopeful look. 

“She’s insane,” Oscar tells his friend, he’s still confused by your simple reaction. “You really need to ask her on a date soon mate, because why on earth is she coming to pick us up at this time if she isn’t feeling anything for you?”

“That’s our friendship,” Lando answers, “don’t look into this too much.”

“You’re stupid,” Oscar sighs annoyed.

“But she’s coming?” Lando asks. His drunk mind isn’t active enough to realize that this means that you’re coming to pick them up. “Yes,” Oscar replies.

It doesn’t take you longer then ten minutes to arrive at Lando and Oscars location. When you park Lando his rental car on the sideway next to them, they’re quick to step in. Or better said, Oscar is quick to help Lando up and to get into the passenger seat next to you. After that he takes place on the backseat. In the mean time Oscar thanks you multiple times for picking them up this quick.

“Oh it’s nothing,” you shrug it off, “but why is Lando this drunk?” You could have asked the question to Lando himself, but he hasn’t said anything since he’s seated next to you. He is however quite touchy. His hand has found it’s way to your thigh. 

Oscar doubts about his answer, he can’t really tell you about Pierre his statements right? Eventually he just tells you that Lando took to many shots. He doesn’t say anything about the earlier conversations with Pierre in which Lando drank away multiple strong drinks. You chuckle after hearing Oscar his explanation. 

“He really can’t handle his shots,” you joke.

“I noticed,” Oscar sighs, “He kept asking for you though, is that normal when he’s drunk?” Oscar hopes you understand the hint. Since Lando isn’t doing anything about his crush, Oscar decides to help his teammate a bit by dropping some hints. 

“Oh I normally pick him up after he drinks, so I guess it’s out of habit,” you tell Oscar without even thinking about it. Oscar realizes that you don’t get it as well. You’re just as clueless as Lando himself. “But I don’t get why he is this silent,” you continue, “normally Lando is rather talkative when he’s drunk.”

Oscar doesn’t think about his next words. “I think he’s a bit busy with staring at you,” he states. You let out a soft laugh and let go of the steer with one hand, softly giving Lando a small squeeze in his hand before returning to the steering wheel. Lando shows you a small grin. You realize that Oscar is right, Lando has been staring at you since he is in the car. That’s not his normal drunk behavior. You wonder where this is coming from. 

When you’re back at the hotel, you start to realize how drunk Lando is. He’s barely getting out of the car by himself and he can’t walk without almost falling over every time. Oscar and you are both supporting Lando by a side while walking towards the elevator. Lando leans a bit onto you, causing you to almost fall over as well. 

“Do you want to bring him back to his room together?” Oscar asks you. 

“Oh it’ll be fine, we’re sharing a room,” you quickly answer, “You already did enough.”

Oscar shows you a confused look. He didn’t realize that Lando and you shared a room. Is this something that you do every time Lando takes you with him to a race weekend? Is this normal for the two of you? Everything about it screams ‘dating’ but Oscar doubts that either of you knows about that. 

“You’re sure that you two aren’t dating each other?” Oscar asks even confused.

“Can I be honest?” You ask. Oscar is quick to say yes. “Sometimes I think we’re dating as well,” you tell Oscar honestly, “but to answer your question, we’re not dating.” 

Oscar decides to push his luck with his next question. He needs to know it for sure. “Do you want to date him?” He asks you. You look at Lando before answering Oscar his question. It seems like Lando is in his own world right now. He isn’t paying attention to your soft conversation with Oscar. Something that causes you to have to opportunity to be honest with Oscar right now.

“Yes,” you confess, “Why would I otherwise drop everything to come with him to every race he wants me to? And why would I drive late at night in an unknown city to pick him up while he could easily take a cab?”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Oscar says softly, “because I’m pretty sure that Lando feels the same about you. Don’t you think?” 

The elevator makes a loud sound to tell you that you’re on the right floor. “Oh I need to get out here,” you tell Oscar, “See you later!” 

Oscar sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “Thanks for picking us up again.”

When you finally reached Lando and yours hotel room, it’s another job to get Lando into the bed. You’re glad that you have seen him naked before, because this would have been the first time other wise. Lando is undressing himself, but almost falling over a couple times while doing so. You decide to undress yourself as well, it doesn’t take long before you’re only wearing Lando his shirt and a string. 

Lando is quick to grab you and drag you into the bed with him. He pushes his body against yours, causing you to feel his member against your ass. Lando plays with your hair in the mean time. You notice the smell of alcohol every time Lando breathes. You stay silent about it. 

“Babygirl,” Lando eventually says with a soft voice. It’s the first thing he has said since you have picked him up. He doesn’t continue with his question. You move yourself around, causing you to face Lando. “Yeah?” You ask him. 

“Would you date Pierre?” Lando asks you without giving it a second thought. He’s annoyed about his own bluntness right now. You on the other hand wonder about his question, where did this come from? 

“No,” you answer Lando without really thinking about it, “Pierre seems a fuckboy. He isn’t my type.”

“Thank god,” Lando whispers relieved. 

Before you can say anything else, Lando continues to ask questions. 

“What about Logan, would you date him?” Lando continues. 

“No,” you answer rather quickly. “I don’t think that I’m made to be an American,” you joke. 

Lando asks you another question. You can barely hear him. To be honest, you wonder if you did hear him correctly. Is he really asking you this? 

“Would you date me?” Lando asks you as soft as he can manage. This time he really curses himself. Why did he just ask that? He doesn’t even want to hear your answer. You’re going to say no - just like you don’t want to date Pierre or Logan, you also don’t want to date him. “Just joking,” Lando says quickly, “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight baby.” 

You’re confused by Lando his question, but even more confused by him stating that it was a joke. Nonetheless you wish Lando goodnight as well. You even press a soft kiss against his cheek. It doesn’t take Lando long before he’s deep asleep. Just to be sure, you listen to him snore a couple times. While laying with your head on Lando his chest and listening to his restful heartbeat and deep breaths, you answer his earlier question. 

“I’d love to date you Lando,” you softly whisper, “You only have to ask.”

+++

The following morning Lando awakes with a massive headache. Memories of last night are quick to return to him. It doesn’t take long before he starts to feel ashamed. Why didn’t he just take the taxi? He is ashamed for his own actions, the whining until you picked them up but also the questions he asked you in bed later. The only feeling he can’t shake off is that he feels loved by you. He feels loved when he thinks about you actually picking him up that late in an unknown city. However when he realizes that you hate driving in unknown cities, he’s quick to replace the loved feeling for more shame. Why did he ask that from you?

He also feels ashamed for the questions he asked you before falling asleep. The shame is getting to him. But on the other hand, his questions did cause him to know for sure that you wouldn’t date Pierre or Logan. But still. There are many other boys with interest in you. 

Lando moves a bit away from you to grab his phone. He notices that it’s on the charger, he probably didn’t do that himself. He grabs his phone and reads the texts he got. The first one causes him to already feel bad once again.

Pierre Gasly: Send me y/n her number?

Lando doesn’t even react to the text. Of course he’s not going to send Pierre your number. He’s not an idiot. He ignores the message and continues to read the texts Oscar has send him.

Oscar: you better remember what y/n did for you last night

Oscar: and you better think about a way to thank her for it

Lando is quick to reply to the texts from his teammate. 

Lando: ofc I remember

Lando: how can I thank her? 

Oscar: idk, thats up to you mate

When Lando feels you moving next to him, he realizes that you’re getting awake as well. He looks at you when you slowly open your eyes and adjust them to the bright morning light in the hotel room. You let out a small yawn. The tiredness hasn’t left your body after sleeping, maybe it’s caused by the lack of sleep from last night. 

“Hey Lan,” you softly greet him, “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Lando confesses, “Sorry for last night princess.” 

“It’s okay,” you quickly tell Lando, “you always pick me up as well when I’m drunk, so I could finally do something back for you.” 

“But I could have gotten into the cab,” Lando sighs while feeling annoyed with himself once again, “I know you hate driving in unknown cities and certainly in the night.”  

“Lan,” you softly say while grabbing his hand and drawing small circles on it, “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind it.” 

Lando shows you a boyish grin. You wonder what his next actions are. What is he going to say? His following movements cause that you can already guess it. Lando slowly drapes himself on top of you. He presses soft kisses on your face before lowering his face to other body parts of you. He toys with the waistband the waistband of your string. Happy that you’re not wearing anything else then that string and his shirt. Eventually Lando pulls away your string and throws it onto the ground. 

“Maybe I can thank you like this?” Lando mutters. After saying those words, he’s already pressing kisses against your more private parts. When he presses a soft kiss against your clit and he hears a moan coming from your lips, he feels his own boxers tighten as well. He slides his finger through your slit. It doesn’t take him long to notice that you’re already getting wet. He makes sure to ignore your clit for now, just licking around it slowly. He know he’s a terrible tease, but he can’t help himself. He loves hearing you whine and beg for him. 

“Lan,” you softly whine when he lets his finger enter you, but still uses a slow pace. It’s making you feel all kind of things, but not enough. Lando shows you another boyish grin. “Teasing me isn’t thanking me,” you tell him when his pace keeps unchanged. 

“Patience babygirl,” Lando tells you. You let out a moan when he finally presses his lips onto your clit and softly sucks it inside his mouth. He adds another finger inside your pussy, causing you to let out hard moan. “Fuck,” you mutter. Lando increases his pace with his fingers. You can properly say that he’s finger fucking you right now. He is more aggressive then normal, but in a strange way you like this only more. 

“Fuck Lan,” you let out when he adds another finger. 

“Who’s making you feel this good babygirl?” Lando asks you. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but he feels the need to hear you say it’s him. Now that he thinks about it, he knows pretty well that this is happening because of (mainly) Pierre. And all the other boys that have showed their interest in you. 

You show Lando a small smirk, “Hm, I don’t know,” you joke. 

“You don’t know?” Lando asks you with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t expect this answer from you. Since when can you act bratty like this? He shows you a stern look, but increases his pace in the mean time. He’ll show you who makes you feel like this. Lando feels you clenching around his fingers. He sucks harshly onto your clit before releasing it to look at you. 

You haven’t said anything again, the only sound leaving your tongue are moans. While looking stares at you and thinks about his next action, you feel your orgasm reaching. This time Lando decreases his pace. He removes two of his fingers and is barely doing anything that the finger that stays inside of you. 

“Fuck Lan,” you whine, “Why did you stop?”

“That’s what you deserve for that answer,” Lando simply states. He knows that he should be a bit more patient and calm with you, not showing you all of his dominant side - but right now, he can’t really help himself. You show Lando a desperate look, “It was just a joke,” you tell him. 

Lando removes his last finger as well. You can’t even help yourself and try to move yourself closer to him. Fuck, you want him to continue. 

“Funny,” Lando remarks sarcastically. 

“Sorry Lan,” you whine, “Please continue?”

“No,” he states sternly, “You can work for it yourself now.”

Lando pulls you onto his thigh. Making sure that your pussy is right on top of it. He feels your wetness on his thigh on only seconds. “Want to orgasm?” He asks you. You can only nod. “Then help yourself on my thigh.”

“How?” You ask helplessly, you have no idea what Lando means. 

“Grind on it,” Lando explains with a softer voice then before, “move your body and you’ll notice what feels right for you.” 

You try to act out Lando his instructions. It takes you a couple movements before getting what he meant. Now that you know how to do this right, it’s making you feel good. Really good. But not good enough for your orgasm to get closer then before. Lando continues to tease you into the mean time. His hands wander over your body while you keep riding his thigh. He finds your tits and starts to knead them. Suddenly he pinches your nipples, both of them at the same time. You let out a surprised squeak. You feel them burn a bit because of the pinch, but in a strange way it makes you feel even more horny. You try to ride his thigh faster then before. Lando watches your reactions closely, when he pinches your nipples again he can safely say that you like the feeling. He knows for sure when he does it a third time and it causes you to let out a hard moan. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it princess?” Lando asks you. 

“Yeah,” you tell him.

Lando knows you want to say more, he knows this isn’t the same as what he was doing to you before. And maybe, really maybe, that was exactly his plan. “But?” He asks you.

“It’s not enough,” you confess with red cheeks. 

Lando lets out a deep chuckle. “That’s what you get after your bratty joke,” he tells you sternly. You show him the most pleading eyes you can manage, but Lando shakes his head at you. “Why do you deserve my help?” He asks you. 

“Please Lan,” you whine, “I can’t do this myself.”

“Do what?” Lando knows perfectly well that you’re talking about reaching your orgasm, but he wants you to say it for yourself. 

“Orgasm,” you whisper ashamed. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, “And make sure that I understand how much you need me.”

You ride his thigh even faster then earlier, but it’s still not enough. “Help me Lan,” you softly beg him, “Please?” Lando doesn’t reply. You continue your pleas. “I need you,” you whimper, “can’t come without you.” Even when those aren’t causing him to help you, you keep continuing. “No one can make me feel like you can,” you tell Lando without giving it a second thought. “Need you to make me feel good.”

That causes Lando to finally land his hands on your body. His ego is almost getting to big for himself right now after hearing all your pleas. He grabs your hips and helps you with your movements. For a moment he wonders if you can come undone just like this, but he decides he doesn’t want to find it. At least, not today. You deserve his help. Lando feels the wetness from your cunt dripping onto him. His thigh is unbelievably wet right now. 

He removes one of his hands from your waist. You directly look at him, wondering if he’s going to stop again. But Lando lets his hand wander to your clit. He starts to stimulate your clitoris, pulling out multiple moans of you. He notices that you’re coming really close right now. His thigh is even getting more wet because of you. Before you cum, he takes a moment to take it in. You look so beautiful riding on his thigh like this, making it wet without feeling ashamed about it just for your own pleasure. His boner is almost bursting. He should picture you like this and show it to every other boy - that way they would know that you’re his. Not that you are. Maybe if everyone smelled his thigh right now they would already get it, since he doesn’t want anyone else to see you like this. 

Fuck, he needs to make you his. Why aren’t you his already? 

When you let out a loud moan, Lando realizes that you are getting awfully close to your orgasm right now. “Ask me,” Lando instructs you. He doesn’t even need to specify himself, you’re already asking him exactly what he wants.

“Can I come?” You ask him, “Please Lan?” 

“Yes babygirl,” Lando answers, “You deserve it.”

That’s all it takes for you to come undone. Your orgasm is crashing over you. Lando pulls you into his arms and lets you fall down over his body. 

“Fucking hell,” you mutter after a bit, “it’s actually insane how you can make me feel.”

“It wasn’t too much?” Lando asks you. Looking back at it, he did go further then he wanted. He stresses that he was a bit too dominant for you. 

“No,” you reply without even thinking about it, “I don’t think it was even close to ‘too much’,” you add honestly. 

“I can push more?” He asks you surprised. 

“Yes,” you state, “I think I’d like that.”

Lando lets out a soft chuckle and shakes his head. He really can’t believe it. You’re actually perfect. He really needs to tell you about his feelings. Maybe now is a good timing? In the mean time you grab your phone and look at it. Lando notices your surprised face.

“Any idea why Pierre Gasly is texting me?” You ask Lando confused.

Fucking hell. Lando lets out an annoyed sigh. Fuck. He shakes his head to answer you. You open the message and start to read it aloud to Lando.

“Hey,” you start reading, “Got your number from Daniel. You’re really hot. Let’s get to know each other on a date?”

Hot? Lando cringes by the words of Pierre. He doesn’t even know how hot you can be. In the mean time Lando also curses his former teammate, why did Daniel send him your number? 

“What are you going to answer?” Lando asks you quickly. He can’t even help himself and starts to talk badly about Pierre. “You know Pierre is a terrible player right?” He realizes that his jealousy is showing, but he can’t help it. He needs to know that you’re not going to date Pierre. 

“I told you yesterday that I wouldn’t date Pierre,” you tell Lando, “so that’s still the answer.”

Lando doesn’t react verbally. He pulls you back on top of him and presses kisses against your every inch of your face. Lastly putting his lips on your mouth. Thank god. He realizes that the universe is sending him all the hints he can get about needing to ask you to be his girlfriend instead of friend. He really needs to tell you about his feelings. But how? And when? 

part eight

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[yunhoszn]

(this is user sourkimchi pls don’t perceive me on main lmao)

i saw another user post this abt this hongjoong fit and it’s been living in my head rent free…

as a fellow asian rave bisexual.. i need a fic for this concept 🫣

(not so) alcohol-free

PAIRING kim hongjoong x f!reader

WORD COUNT 3.46k

GENRES fluff?﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, clubbing scene, reader feels self conscious, mentions of alcohol, strangers to lovers?, ummmmm hardly any plot tbh half of the wc is porn, couch sex, little bit of foreplay (vaginal fingering), some marking here and there i think, cowgirl position, missionary, protected sex, allusions to multiple rounds of unprotected sex, not beta’d or proofread bc we rawdog this shit like men

SUMMARY notorious for canceling plans at the last minute, you finally let your friends drag you out for a night at the club. however, a chance encounter with the prettiest man you’ve ever seen has the night turning to something unexpected.

MORE AAAAAAND i finally finished my first request LOLLLLL here u go yves!! i kinda strayed away from the main idea bc i wanted to make it my own, but i hope this meets ur expectations <3

@atzhouse

You had a natural affinity for canceling plans at the last minute. You’re not sure why, especially because you always get an awful case of FOMO every time you do. It’s your own fault that you feel left out when your friends get together without you.

No matter how far in advance you plan for the event, you somehow still find a way to lose your motivation to go. You haven’t properly hung out with your friend group in months, so when they start talking about clubbing tonight, you immediately say yes. 

At first, you think you’ll change your mind an hour later, since it’s only an afternoon’s notice. But when you realize your friends will be here to pick you up in thirty minutes and you’re finishing your makeup, you nearly jump for joy. You successfully stuck it out for once. 

Even as you’re sandwiched between Wooyoung and Mingi in the backseat, San in the drivers’ seat and his girlfriend in the passenger, you’re still shocked that this is your reality. You’re actually dolled up and you’re actually on your way to a club right now. 

“Y/N, do you remember the signal if someone hits on me?”

“Wooyoung, no one’s hitting on you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mingi. It could happen.”

You snort, pulling your skirt down a little. “Woo, we should come up with a signal for if I get hit on.”

“Yeah, Y/N’s more likely to get laid than you are even though she’s bitchless, too.” Mingi nods, adjusting his sunglasses. (You have no idea why he’s wearing sunglasses at 10 PM.)

“Kill your—”

“We’re here!” San announces, effectively putting a pin in any argument that was about to begin. As long as your friendship with the males spanned, he’s always been the mediator. You’ve known the three of them dating all the way back to high school, lumped in the same homeroom your freshman year. The four of you sat in the same general vicinity and got grouped together for a project once and you’ve been inseparable ever since. 

You know you look hot, Wooyoung wolf-whistling at you the moment you started walking towards the car, but you still feel a bit insecure. It probably has everything to do with the fact that you don’t go out much and you’re self-conscious as is. Stepping into the crowded club, a scene that could only be compared to a sardine can, has you shrinking in on yourself. 

Instinctively, you tug on the hem of your skirt to attempt to cover your ass a little more. Then you wrap your arms around your midriff, though your cleavage leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. You swallow thickly as your trail behind your friends, like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs. 

This is why you always back out of plans. You feel so out of place, like you don’t fit in even when people try to include you. It feels like everyone’s staring at you, waiting for one wrong move so they can point and laugh like you were the butt of some sort of weird joke. You’re ready to go home. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi asks once you’ve settled at an empty high table just a few feet from the dance floor. Through his stupid sunglasses, you can make out the concern on his features. 

“Yeah, I think so,” your lips purse, arms hugging yourself tighter. “I just haven’t been out in so long. I feel… like I shouldn’t be here or something. I’ll be fine. I hope.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t ask any more questions, instead turning to San and his girlfriend who were about to make a trip to the bar. Your poison for the night is simple, a plain margarita that’ll ease your nerves more than anything else. You weren’t much of a beer person, often opting for fruitier, sweeter drinks in comparison to your male counterparts. (When you do go out with them, that is.)

Wooyoung and Mingi fall into a heated discussion about who knows what, leaving you to become a third wheel while you wait for the couple to come back with your drinks. You people-watch to pass the time, chewing on the inside of your lip, your eyes flitting around the club like some kind of guilty criminal. Almost immediately, they land on a guy in the middle of the dance floor. 

He’s hypnotizing, body fluidly moving to the song the DJ’s playing and matching the energy of his friend standing next to him, two girls in front of and facing them. His dark hair falls into his eyes slightly, though parted and styled damn near perfectly. He’s dressed in a black tweed jacket, a white button up left open enough to reveal a couple necklaces resting on his sternum, some ripped jeans, and black boots. But none of that is what caught your attention. 

You’re entranced by his smile, its brightness and how fucking pretty he looks wearing it. You caught the tail-end of something his friend said that made him laugh, and you feel yourself being pulled in deeper and deeper without a single conversation with him. Too bad he seems unavailable. 

“Woah, N/N, might wanna wipe your chin,” Wooyoung teases, a stupid smirk on his face that you want to punch away. “I think you’re drooling a little.”

Mingi howls with laughter, falling onto the table to support himself. He clutches at his stomach as it cramps up from how hard he’s laughing. It wasn’t even that funny. You roll your eyes. 

“Shut up, Wooyo.” 

“Who are you even staring at?” He inquires, resting his elbows on the high top surface, his chin placed on his hands. He blinks at you expectantly, like he’s not letting you off the hook. You avoid his gaze, simultaneously ensuring that you don’t look in the attractive stranger’s general direction either. This all felt so elementary. 

“None of your business.” You murmur, ducking your head. Thankfully, San and his girlfriend return to the table with your drinks perfectly timed, and the topic is dropped completely. 

The first sip of your margarita is damn near heavenly, the alcohol flowing through your system smoothly and calming that storm waging in your mind. It’s not too strong, just enough that another couple drinks would inebriate you entirely. It aids with the anxiety of being in such a packed space, but that feeling of not belonging still sits inside your chest. 

You can’t help but look for the stranger again, who’s no longer on the dance floor. Now he’s on the other side of the club at another high table. His friend is still with him, but the girls from before are nowhere to be found. You focus on his hands and the chunky rings on his fingers, the way he holds his beer bottle, the way his free hand runs through his hair. Your tongue twirls around the straw in your glass out of habit, enthralled by this man who has yet to give you the time of day. 

Except when you glance up to admire his face, you discover that he’s already looking back at you. He’s nodding along to his friend’s words, but his eyes are zeroed in on you, a different kind of smile playing on his lips. Your features fall slightly from being caught red handed, cheeks warming up significantly. You aren’t sure what’s more embarrassing, caught gawking at a stranger by your own friend or by the stranger himself. Truly, the universe was out to get you. 

You down the rest of your margarita and excuse yourself to go to the restroom, needing a second to gather your bearings. Your skin is flushed and you have to hold your cheeks between your palms as you psych yourself up in the mirror. Why should you feel ashamed of thinking someone’s hot? You were only human. Besides, you looked good, too. 

When you exit the restroom, you’re shocked to see the stranger walking out of the men’s restroom at the same time. Your eyes are wide and your body freezes. He gives you that smile from before, ruffling his hair as if this interaction wasn’t difficult enough. 

“I was hoping I’d bump into you,” he says, unabashedly drinking in your figure. “It’s not everyday someone as gorgeous as you crosses my path.”

So he’s a flirt. Noted. 

“I could say the same,” you manage to get out, though your palms are already clamming up. “If fleeting glances across a dance floor count as crossing paths.”

He laughs and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. A couple girls come into the hallway, and you maneuver so they can go into the women’s restroom. His hand comes to rest on your lower back when your balance wavers slightly. 

“I’m Hongjoong, by the way,” he introduces himself since he’s in such close proximity to you now. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod, too distracted by how much prettier he is only inches away from you. “I’d like that.”

Hongjoong leads you to the bar, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist so he doesn’t lose you in the crowd. He orders himself a beer and turns to you to ask what you’re having. While waiting for the bartender to whip up your drinks, he strikes up a conversation. 

“Are you gonna tell me your name?” 

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. “Oh yeah, sorry… It’s Y/N.”

He repeats it, like he’s testing out the taste in his mouth. The smile that graces his features afterwards says all you need to know. It has butterflies flapping around rampantly in the pit of your stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of you. He thanks the bartender seconds later when he slides your margarita and his beer bottle across the bar. 

“So, Y/N, what brings you out tonight?” He takes a swig from his bottle, one arm leaning onto the surface of the bar. God, the things you would do to him if given the chance…

“Catching up with my friends,” you answer honestly, baby-sipping your margarita through the straw. “I don’t really go out much, because I’m really bad when it comes to canceling plans at the last minute.”

“Should I consider myself lucky then?” Hongjoong quirks a brow, licking his lower lip. If men had anything, it was the audacity. And this man had the audacity to do everything in his power to lure you in with his good looks and charisma. 

“I’ll have you know that this is a one of a kind, once in a lifetime opportunity,” you play along, stirring the slowly-melting ice cubes around your glass. “You’re a very fortunate man.”

“Yeah?” He laughs again and you think you might faint right here and now. He looks off to the other side of the club and then back at you. “I think Prince Charming over there is looking for you.”

He points at the table where your friends are, and you find that Wooyoung is glancing around in search of something, or someone. Namely you. It’s most likely because you went to the restroom and then never returned. He’ll live. 

“Wooyoung? Nah, he’s just being a good friend. I raised him right,” you turn back to him, sipping at your drink leisurely. “Now where were we? Something about you being lucky?”

“Hwa, I’ll— shit— I’ll have to call you back,” Hongjoong forces out, promptly hanging up so he can focus on putting you in your place. You’re like a damn leech, lips attached to his neck, marking the supple skin like it was your job. Your hands paw at the button of his jeans, your lower half grinding down on his lap. “So fucking impatient. Can’t even wait until I’m off the phone?”

“Want you too bad, Joong,” you pout, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, his jacket lost somewhere near the front door. He groans when the nickname falls from your mouth. You had no idea how sexy you were.

The two of you were so insatiable, you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, collapsing on his couch. You hardly had the mind to message your friends to let them know your whereabouts. His hands hold your ass firmly, halting you from any further teasing. You whine, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders. Your nails drag down his toned abdomen, enjoying the way it tenses beneath your touch. After all he’s put you through tonight, you think you at least deserve a bit of payback. Just a bit. 

“Are you too antsy to make it through foreplay?” He coos and presses a quick kiss to your lips, trailing a few along your jawline. Your eyes flutter shut with a hum and a nod. It was true. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you feared you might go insane. 

“I need you inside me already,” you whine, trying to spread your legs and create more friction downstairs. He chuckles at how desperate you are, how touch starved you must be considering you don’t get out much. It fuels his pride knowing he’s the only one to see you like this, to have you like this, for the first time in who knows how long. If he’s successful, maybe he’ll be the only one ever. 

Hongjoong bunches your skirt around your waist, sneaking a hand between your bodies to rub tight, gentle circles into your clothed clit. A blissful sigh escapes you, your forehead dropping to his shoulder. The cocky smile you’ve grown to adore over the course of the night decorates his lips at how quickly he has you falling apart at his fingertips. 

His middle and ring digits push your underwear to the side, sliding down your slit to prod at your entrance. He nips at the base of your throat, working his way up to the spot behind your ear. Your sighs grow into whimpers, squirming around on his lap when he applies pressure to your cunt with the pad of his middle finger. 

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he mutters into your skin, shivers running down your spine from the low register he uses. He circles his digit around your hole, not quite giving you what you need. “You weren’t kidding about how bad you wanted me.”

You’re about to quip back, but then he’s inserting a finger and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You gasp, biting down on his collarbone to ground yourself. As much as you would love to sit here and let him finger you until sunrise, you have bigger priorities. “Mmm, Joong, please… Fuck me, please…”

He kisses his teeth, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He supposes he can satiate your hunger, though he really wanted to take his time with you. “Do you think you can be still while I put the condom on?”

You pull back and nod enthusiastically, sitting on your haunches slightly, fingers locked behind his neck. “I’ll be so good, I promise. I just need you, like, now.”

All he can do is laugh, and you melt into a puddle in his arms. You’ve concluded that smile of his would quite honestly be the death of you. He removes his fingers from your pussy, instead squeezing your hip before helping you onto the couch cushion beside him. You rest on your knees as he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off, swiftly grabbing his wallet out of his pocket and plucking a condom from it. In the same breath, he’s taking off his underwear and tugging you back on top of him. 

He places the foil packet between his teeth so he can quickly aid you in the discarding of your panties. Now that your cunt is bare, you can feel the heat of his cock and it’s so hypnotic. Your eyes can barely stay open as you watch him tear open the condom packet and roll it on. He’s the perfect thickness and the perfect length, and you feel so special straddling his lap right now. 

Hongjoong kisses you softly, gripping your waist so he can guide you to sit on his cock. The first breach of your entrance has a shaky exhale leaving your lips against his own. You stay like that for a second so you can adjust to the feel of him inside of you, the fullness in your lower half, and overall just how fucking good it feels. He grins when you slowly start bouncing up and down, his dick thrusting in and out under you. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He pecks your cheek, moving downward and reaching behind your back to untie your halter top. It slips off of you with ease, revealing your tits to him. 

“So good, Joong… Feels so good,” you arch into him, whining and moaning every time he brushes that crook in your cunt that has you seeing stars. He peppers kisses all over your chest and sternum, scraping his teeth along the skin of your breast. You whimper, nails sinking into his back and your toes curling. You’re completely aware of what’s going on, but those two margaritas have to be contributing to the pleasure swirling in your abdomen. 

“Yeah? You’re taking me so fucking well,” His eyebrows knit together when you switch your pace, sitting on him fully and letting his cock fill you for a couple seconds. In reality, your knees were starting to ache and get tired, something he recognizes instantly because he was so attentive. 

His hand holds the small of your back and he flips you so you’re in missionary on the couch now without skipping a beat. The change in position allows for a change in angle, his dick dragging against your velvety walls deliciously. Your sounds grow in volume, scratching his back when he pushes one of your knees to your chest. 

You weren’t anticipating to end up here at the end of the night, but you don’t think you could dare complain. While a majority of this night felt like a fever dream, you feel a high that’s never taken over you before. 

Hongjoong’s hair falls into his eyes as he glances down at where your bodies meet, his cock disappearing inside of you and then sliding out with ease. You intertwine your fingers behind his head, pulling him down so you can connect your lips in a fervent, passionate kiss. That familiar summit is within view now, your hand nudging his own to your clit so you can inch closer towards it. 

His thumb swipes side to side on the sensitive bundle of nerves, never once breaking your kiss. There’s so much stimulation going on for you, you’re starting to feel dizzy. In a good way. He’s gentle in a way that’s still rough enough to knock the daylights out of you and the juxtaposition makes the moment all the more enjoyable. 

“‘M so close, Joong,” you arch off the sofa in an attempt to be closer to him, to sandwich yourself between him and the couch. 

His thrusts become faster and more calculated, but he doesn’t break the focus on your clit. His efforts come to fruition and he mumbles words of encouragement for you as you finally reach that boiling point. A strangled moan falls from your mouth and you spread your legs to suck him in further. 

The uncontrollable fluttering of your walls following your climax is almost too much for him and he has to pull out. Your eyes are half lidded, nimble fingers rolling off the condom. He fucks his fist until he’s painting the area between your tits with his cum.

The two of you don’t move right away, regaining your composure. He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and then repeats the action all over your face until you’re a giggly mess. This is probably the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and part of you doesn’t want to go home— whether that be later or tomorrow morning. 

“Do you have the energy to go again, or should I go grab a warm washcloth to clean you up?” He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he’s just joking but he’s totally down if you are. You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. 

“If you give me a minute, I’m all set to do that again,” you start, resting your eyes for a second. “You don’t have to worry about a condom this time. I kinda wanna feel you raw.”

Hongjoong laughs in disbelief, glancing away from you and then letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder. “What have I gotten myself into…”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost. 

[sliceofcake-cupoftea]

Shhh... It's Okay

Character(s): Suzuki Ryo (x reader), Amagai Kohei

Plot Line: Abandoned by your best friend, you are left to clean up after her and her boyfriend's mess. However, what happens when that boyfriend and his bestfriend show up at your door at three in the morning? Are they really here to apologize and what's with the way Suzuki Ryo looks at you?

Warnings: Bullying (sort of), Amagai (this man really needs a warning for just his whole character), High & Low (Typical violence)

“It’s okay… It’s okay…” You mumble incoherently, half awake as you slowly walk around the room. While there was no mirror in your room, you were sure you looked like a mess. Bloodshot eyes, messy hair and heavy purple eyebags underneath your eyes. Yes, being a parent was hard.

Especially when it wasn’t your fault.

You feel a tear silently slide down your cheek as you continue to bounce the baby in your arms. His crying not letting up even for a moment as he screams into your shoulder. You knew you couldn’t do anything about it. Colic; when a baby cries for a long time for no obvious reason. 

It… It just…

…Sucked. Life sucked.

She was supposed to be your best friend. It was always supposed to be you and her against the world. You wondered when it started, when she started to be such a shitty friend. Probably when she started dating Amagai Kohei if you had to guess. Though, maybe she was always a shitty friend to you. You just didn’t want to believe it.

When she came to your doorstep crying about how she was pregnant by that bastard and was thrown out by her parents, what were you supposed to do? What the hell were you supposed to do?

What could you have done that would have changed the situation you were put in now?

After nine grueling months of taking care of her and her giving birth to a healthy baby boy, she… she just left. It was in the middle of the night, when you and Haruki–the name you helped her pick out for the baby boy–were fast asleep. 

She disappeared from your lives.

And… And you don’t think she will be coming back.

“Shit– It’s okay… It’s– It’s okay…” You whisper, kissing the baby's head. Though you aren’t sure if it's meant for him or you. 

Finally, after five long hours and it being 3am in the morning, Haruki finally stops his cries and curls up in your hold. The young babe falling asleep, finally; looking like an angel as if he wasn’t screaming like the devil a couple of minutes ago.

“Just like his father…” You mumble as you set him down in his bassinet. With one last look down at the peaceful baby, you make your way into the kitchen. Needing a cup of tea to relax yourself after the terrible day you have been having. 

Just as the pot begins to roll into a boil and you are leaning with your back against the counter, you hear your doorbell ring. 

“What…” You take a glance at the clock to make sure you weren’t going crazy, “It’s three in the morning. Who the hell…”

As you make your way to the door and crack it open, making sure the chain of your lock was still on just in case you had to shut it quickly, you can’t help but freeze once you see who was at your steps. 

You just stare at them in disbelief. You must be imagining things. This must be from the lack of sleep. They would never ever show up here at your door. But as Suzuki Ryo greets you, you begin to understand that this was no dream and fully snap out of it. Realizing you had been staring at Amagai for far too long.

“What– What the hell are you doing here…?” You finally ask, your voice shaky as you attempt to hold back your anger. After a year, this bastard decides to show up. Now. 

As Amagai says your name, his voice sounding uncomfortable and meek compared to how he used to talk to you, you wanted to scoff. Maybe he finally got his ass handed to him, you can’t help but think as you see the bruised and bandaged wounds the two boys sported. 

“I… We wanted to bring some things for… umm… Haruki…” Amagai murmurs, shuffling uncomfortably with the bags in his hands. Suddenly, he seems to realize something and quickly adds it, “And, some things for you as well! Ryo… got some things for you. It was… his idea.”

You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to tell them to go away and never to come back. But, you were, one, too tired to scream right now and, two, really needed some more things for Haruki. Between High School and your shitty part-time job, your savings were running out quickly and your job couldn’t replenish them fast enough to keep up with the demand of raising a newborn.

With a small sigh, you unlock the lock on the door and allow the men in. As they place and unpack the items on the counter, surprisingly choosing the right things a three month old baby needs, you begrudgingly fall pity on the blonde man in front of you. Especially as he attempts to act like this was no big deal but his awkward shuffles around the kitchen as he follows Suzuki give him away rather quickly. So, with another small sigh, you tell Amagai that he can see Haruki but he had to be careful as the baby just fell asleep a few moments ago. You wanted to smile at the way he seemed to light up at the offer, quickly washing his hands before stumbling over his feet to make his way to your room, but were too exhausted to do so.

Shit. 

You were crashing.

“Were you making a drink?” Suzuki suddenly asks, making you pause in your movements of rubbing your eyes. As you glance up at the man, one that had never really addressed you before, you can’t help but take note of an obvious difference in him. While nothing outwardly seemed to change especially in his appearance, he seemed… to glow? No longer seeming like this emotionless doll that Amagai puppeteered at every whim and need. 

“Ah…” You murmur, snapping out of your thoughts once you realize the male was waiting for your response, “Yes, I was just making some tea.”

As you step forward back to the kettle that had long started boiling, Ryo seems to stop you. 

“Let me do it.” He simply says, using his larger figure to cut you off as he grabs a mug from the drying rack and places a tea bag from the pack you placed on the counter earlier inside.

“But–” 

“You shouldn’t be pouring something this hot while you are half awake. It’s dangerous.” 

With a frustrated sigh, you glare at the man as he continues to make your tea. Not even noticing how he seemed to add the correct amount of milk and sugar you like in there. Nor how he knew to place two ice cubes in it as you didn’t like it too hot.

“I can make a simple drink just fine, Suzuk–” Suddenly, a wave of nausea hits you and you find the world around you begin to spin. 

What–

“I’ve got you,” You can’t help but jump a little as Suzuki wraps his arms around your waist, catching you. Not even realizing your knees had begun to give out. You wanted to argue saying you were fine but you both knew that was a lie. As suddenly a sharp pain bounces through your head, you lean against Suzuki for support as he leans against the counter to hold you steady. You found yourself quickly slipping as you turned your head and leaned it against the man’s shoulder. Hoping the harder you squeezed your eyes that the pain throbbing in your head would go away. 

“Ryo…” You incoherently murmur as one of the man’s arms quickly wraps around your behind, lifting you just enough the ground so he could carry you safely. Allowing him to bring you to the couch before you practically fell limp in his arms. 

As Ryo lays on the couch, his back facing the back of it as he holds you close to him– carefully placing a pillow underneath your head before moving a lock of hair that obstructed your vision–you can only stare at him. Taking in his dark endless eyes that pierced back at yours.

“You're okay.” He says, his rough calloused hand brushing more of your hair out of the way as you begin to lose consciousness. While his face stays its usual rather blank expression, you can't help but notice the slight worry in the man’s gaze. 

The same one he gave you the last time he saw you. 

“Ryo…” You murmur once more, your eyes growing heavy as you finally fall asleep. Swearing you felt the gentle yet chapped feeling of Ryo’s lips against your forehead as he wraps you in his arms, whisking you off to dreamland.

–.--.--.--.--

“Mina!” You can’t help but sputter as you stare at your best friend. Shocked at the information she just told you, “You can’t go having–”

Quickly, you look around the entrance to make sure none of the Senomon Tech students were close enough to hear, “Sex. Without. Protection.”

“But, he pulled out,” She whines as she adjusts her makeup in a pocket mirror she carried with her. A slight pout on her lips as she listens to you chastise her. 

“That doesn’t coun–”

“Oi! Look who we have here,” While Mina practically beams at the voice, you can’t help but freeze as Amagai and his gang walks up to you two, “My lovely girlfriend…”

With a piercing gaze from Amagai that trails to your figure, like a predator would his prey, you can’t help but feel goose bumps litter your skin.

“And her precious pet.” 

That's what made you question your friendship with Mina. That exact trait from Amagai. For while Mina and him were in the same high social class, you and many of the other students weren’t. Making everyone else his tools or, in your case, his girlfriend’s pet.

You shouldn’t have agreed to this. It always left a sour taste in your mouth and a sense of humiliation that seeped deep into your bones. But, she always begged you. Just one more day, she would say, I only have you. You're my friend. My only friend I hold dear to my heart. So please, one more time.

Fucking manipulator.

But, you fell for it every time.

“Hey, bitch,” You can’t help but flinch a little at the way Amagai addresses you, “Mina has owned you since you were a kid, right?”

What? You can’t help but glance a confused look Mina’s way. But, of course, the girl wasn’t paying any attention to you. Instead adjusting her lipstick as she hums to something Saboten said.

“Hey,” You take a step back, making your back hit the wall as Amagai steps forward. Kicking his leg up so his foot was right by your waist. “I don’t liked being ignored.”

“Sorry…” You sputter, fearfully glancing between him and Mina, “Yes, Mina has been—... has owned me since we were kids.”

“Well, Mina and I thought of something the other day,” Amagai starts, finally gaining Mina's attention as he gestures to her, “She has a long-term pet…”

As he gestures to you, making the others snicker, you realize you don’t like the look in his eye. Something. Something bad was about to happen.

“And, I have a long-term tool…” 

Bringing his hand around, he gestures to Suzuki. The black haired man as usual just staring you down. A cold expressionless slate on his face. One that never failed to make you feel small and intimidated under his glance.

“It’s only right that we bring you two together.” He finishes, making you stare with wide-eyes in confusion as he brings his hand up to pat Suzuki’s shoulder. Seeming to have told the man something ahead of time as the black haired man steps forward. Making his way in your direction without another word.

“H– Hey!” You wince as Suzuki grabs your wrist, a bit too harsh to be comfortable, as he stands by your side. From feet to waist to shoulders, you were pressed side by side to Suzuki Ryo. Looking more like two mannequins for the others to look and examine than people.

“How adorable. Don’t they look great together?” Amagai chuckles, wrapping his arm around Mina. The young girl nodding her head in agreement with a lovesick gaze on her face as she stares at her boyfriend. Soon, the rest chime in agreement (more like mockery of you two). One who you believe was Saboten even throws a condom on the ground in front of you two.

Disgusting.

“Go.” Amagai says as he starts to walk away, “Go on a pathetic tool date or something. Hell, go make some new tools for society to use.”

Fucking… Disgusting. 

What a terrible man.

You can’t help but shiver and shake in anger as you watch the group round the corner. Leaving you and Suzuki alone to just stand there as if they didn’t just treat you two as something less than human.

Unable to hold yourself back from the anger that is pumping through your veins, you snap your wrist out of Suzuki’s grasp. Sending the male an glare as he stared at you from the corner of his eyes. Still sporting that annoying expressionless face of his that you wanted to punch as you began to walk away.

As you get halfway down the street away from Senomon Tech, suddenly someone calls after you and it takes you a moment to realize as to who. Especially as you have never heard him speak before.

“I…” Suzuki starts and as you stare at him, you realize what you have been missing. While his face remained cold, expressionless, his eyes told a different story. Worry; was he worried for you? “I’m… sorry. This was my fault.”

His fault?

However you never got to ask what he meant by that as without another word, Suzuki Ryo leaves. Disappearing from your life just like you did with the others, following his lead. Deciding that very next day to transfer to a new school to get away from Mina and the brutes of Senomon Tech.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. 

Life never was.

—.—.—.—.—

“She’s still asleep?” Amagai says as he enters the living room. Pulling out a cigarette only to pause and put it away once he realized where he was, “It’s half past noon. You sure she ain’t dead, Ryo?”

At the sadistic laugh that leaves Amagai’s lips, Ryo can only roll his eyes at his friend’s sense of humor. Some things would never change. 

“Damn it, look at you.” Ryo’s eyes trail from the peaceful expression on your sleeping face to Amagai. His friend giving him a knowing look, “Absolutely smitten by her.” 

Another laugh leaves Amagai’s lips, this time just softer, as if he knew something that Ryo didn’t, “Then again, you always were.”

With wide eyes, Ryo can’t help but stare at his friend in shock, “You knew.”

“Of course, I knew, Idiot.” Amagai scoffs, “Why did you think I started dating Mina? The way you would slow your pace whenever you would pass by the café she worked at was pathetic. You looked like a lovesick puppy.” 

“You…” Ryo lets silence fill the air as he thinks over what his friend just informed him, “You dated Mina because…” 

“Because she was her best friend?” Amagai finishes, gesturing to you still sound asleep in Ryo’s arms. The young man playing with the strands of your hair. Carefully untangling knots with his fingers that he would run into before continuing on as he listened to his friend. Letting out a small sigh, Ryo rests his face on your neck, seeming content, before suddenly letting out a bigger sigh and lifting his head slightly to return his attention back to Amagai.

“Ko…” Ryo starts, pausing before proceeding with his words, “...you are such a bastard.” 

“Hah?” Quickly, Ryo catches a pillow that Amagai whips in his direction, simply placing it on top of your waist acting like it happened every day between the two, “Me? You were the one that wouldn’t talk to her. I had to order you to go on a date with her.”

“And, how did that turn out?”

Tense silence fills the air between the two boys at Ryo’s spiteful response. Both with their gazes cast downward as they appear to think.

“...Sorry,” Ryo voices, the first to speak up and always the first to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Idiot… what are you apologizing for…” Amagai mumbles back, before letting out a sigh and changing the topic to something else, “At least she hates me, not you. You still have a chance.”

“Yeah…” Ryo murmurs, sighing as he pulls you closer to him. Allowing himself a selfish moment to enjoy your presence. Silently hoping you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon so that you two could stay like this. Looking like lovers even though he knew the moment you would awake, you would be nothing more than strangers, “...hopefully.”

“You will…I promise,” Amagai says, sitting up straighter as he hears Haruki begin to cry in the other room. Both men quickly acting once they notice you begin to stir from the young babe’s cries. 

“Fuck… How the hell does she do this every day?” Amagai curses as he gets up with a groan, watching as his friend quickly covers your ears with a pillow so you don’t hear the cries. Hoping you would fall back into your deep slumber. 

With a small smile, Ryo laughs lowly at his friend’s complains, “Maybe we should ask Rao for help–” 

“I would rather die.”

[they-reap-what-we-sow]

20 questions for writers

thank you for the tag @fanfictiongreenirises I finally managed to finish a tag game!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

168- with 44 podfics and the rest are regular fics!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

346,848. unfathomable number who is she where did she come from

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Batman (Batfam) my love my life, but 9-1-1 is a close second with one-offs for a lot of my other passing interests.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Floppy Bird - crack fic that was meant to be an angst fic that I never understood why people liked so much asfhjs

cocoa on a cold night - a classic timby holiday fic that I wrote in the middle of summer, talk about environmental storytelling

secrets un(revealed) - the only purposeful long fic I've ever written, and also the most trope mashing I've ever done with reverse robins, magical realism au, and delicious delicious miscommunications (in my head the only fic that deserves to be in the top five :wheeze: )

Eggshells - vent fic alert !! very embarrassing that people like this I try not to think about it ":)

taking the blade (for you and yours) - a round robin fic written with the server and CHOCK full of Damian suffering.

5. Do you respond to comments?

NO PICTURES. NO COMMENT. I DONT KNOW HOW TO READ.

no jk jk I really really try to but once I start getting behind it's just a whole spiral. these days I have a better chance of replying to a comment on an old fic than a brand new one because I dont want leave them half replied

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

any of my death fics probably? I think with DC a death is a little more inconsequential than other fandoms just because of how often it's unpermanent, so as a concrete answer, I'll say for you (i would cross the line). nothing quite like parental grief.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

happy ending wink-wonk or XD

probably Who The Hell Is Red Hood? - I've done things there with growth and healing that DC HQ would shudder to imagine

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not regularly, thank everything, but the one controversial three-some I posted needed comment regulation lmao

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes and uh, the kinky kind? idk take a look for yourselves I guess

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes, and they're ALWAYS unserious- Buck from 9-1-1 dating Emma from Friends (yes Ross and Rachel's kid) anyone?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Uh, not by a person? as far as I know? but I have found my fic on those like, document websites??? which is weird lmao just read them on your phones guys not everything needs to be uploaded

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

weee yes! round robin my beloved, and also every fic @canonicallyshort and I have written in our threads. those count. to me. emotionally.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I WILL GO DOWN WITH MY MULTISHIP (which really means I'm never going down at all) but really I dont think I will ever get over Merthur... or Buddie... or- you see what I mean?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

oh god I have so many wip that I am holding out hope for but my biggest WIP is an unpublished hellhole affectionately entitled "Death Pit" by everyone who is working on it- most notably because it features a literal Death Pit, every horror, angst, whump, and trauma trope you can think of, and a cast of characters and a plot thread so long we have 20+ page outline documents that aren't even fully updated... I shudder to think what will become of it one day, I imagine sentience isn't very far off

16. What are your writing strengths?

why is this an interview question. I dont know my strengths really?? um. I have good ideas, that one I'll say. execution is a different story (likely one that will never get told. like the rest of my good ideas)

I also think I do fairly well with scene descriptors. I really like to set a scene because I'm seeing a movie in my head and you all should too!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'm down to clown globally! I dont like to use google translate though, so if im writing in another language it's only because SOMEONE on the server is a native speaker and can vouch for my text.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh god one direction. head in hands. it was an 'adopted by 1d' fic that I made my mom beta, and turned it in to my 6th grade English teacher as my creative writing assignment. then I made a poem about it. then I wrote a song about it. thankfully it never got published and is trapped in the cursed purple file folder it was 'hidden' in since 7th grade. my first published fic was almost 7 years later with a Gomens fic!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

AHh um. favorite child scene here, but top contenders include: lithium + 5 for its graphic design and medical accuracy, fiery veins on speechless days for its emotional whump that makes me hurt every time I reread it, [PODFIC] wither on the shore which is not a fic I wrote but one of my favorite podfics of @silk-scarlet-ribbons 's works.

tagging (if you wish to participate!) @canonicallyshort @silverandsunflowers @selkienight60 @crows-murder

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

For Hatters, how would they react to crush wearing playboy bunny suit at Halloween party?

"A Hat-Trick" Hatter Party x Reader

This is cute! Asks like this are fun because it's just these characters wanting to kiss you so bad it makes them look stupid. And I love that for you guys.

TW: Hypnosis

BTAS

Being the gentleman he is, he needs to make sure no one is harassing you for your chosen costume. By staying right next to you the entire party. This is certainly because he is a gentleman and it's not jealousy. You look lovely, by the way. He'd only really imagined you looking like this in his fantasies, pardon that he's flush.

In his nervousness, he's going to start talking about rabbits. He works with research, you know, lots of rabbits at the facility. Did you know they need special endotracheal tubes to be anesthetized? Their mouths hardly open so it's almost impossible to do them otherwise! Oh, oh and did you know rabbits can have up to twelve kits a litter and can get pregnant almost immediately after again? And that's not even to talk about the white rabbit and Alice in Wonderland-

He's going to babble until you stop him, basically. Then he's flush and apologizing. He makes a joke that perhaps he could hypnotize you and you'd just forget all that, eh? These days he's trying his best to not hypnotize his crushes, but... It is still tempting if it meant getting your attention.

It doesn't come to that as you still, for some ponderous, wondrous reason, you aren't trying to ditch him! It takes all night but eventually he'll work his way into asking you if you'd like to go for tea sometime. Finally. It only took him three months of stewing in this crush to ask you on a date.

Gotham

He didn't dress any particular way for this party. Really, he'll joke that he dressed as the magician to your rabbit. Just in case anyone thought they were going to get close to you at this little event. This will end up in a much larger and quickly-thought out plot that involves him performing party tricks with you as his "lovely assistant."

If you're not too careful, you'll be the subject of a hypnosis demonstration. He'll have you sway on an invisible tight-rope, swaying your hips to keep balance. Nothing dangerous. Even if he knows he could get you to do it flawlessly... He'd still rather not risk it. One thing he knows he can get away with however, is to tell you to kiss him. As if you're lovers meeting after a long time apart. He savors it, the feeling of your tongue on his.

When you wake up, you'll feel almost dizzy. What a good little bunny you were for him! Was it warm? How good did you feel? He asks just the right questions to try and get you flustered. At first he might even hint that something more salacious happened while you were under. Nothing that he thinks would make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe... but just enough to make your imagination run wild.

Then he asks if you want a repeat performance, just the two of you. Surely a little white rabbit such as yourself would graciously invite him to wonderland.

Arkham

Immediately taking off his jacket to cover you. No, no, just *where* is the rest of your outfit? Did it get eaten by the jabberwock on your way here? You must be freezing! Your poor little bunny tail!

Once you tell him it's intentional, he feels a rare emotion for him- embarrassment. Of course. It's not that he hadn't seen a playboy bunny before, he just never realized how delectable your legs really were- hm? What did he say? Nothing. You look wonderful.

let us be honest. He doesn't have a LOT in terms of shame, so once he's over the initial thing, he's going to want to get handsy. So many curves on display! Brushing his fingertips over your waist. If you told him no, he would stop. Yes, he would. You're special, he respects you, yes. No one likes being pawed by a cad. He is muttering this out loud.

If you encourage him at all, however, it'll be give an inch take a mile. It's an excuse he's been wanting, really. After all, he's been so fond of you already.

Such a lack of fabric, you'll really need him to make your costume next year. It can be just as showy if you'd like, he has no issue with that. But it'll give him your exact measurements for future outfits he might want to make...

[withasideofshakespeare]

An AMENDED Rundown on the Absolute Chaos That is First Quarto Hamlet

O, gather round me, my dear Shakespeare friends And let me tell to ye a tale of woe. It was a dark and drizzly winter night, When I discovered my life was a lie... This tale is a tragedy, one of Shakespeare sources turned into gardening websites, "misdated" quartos, and failed internet archives. It is also a story of the quarto itself, an early printing of our beloved Danish Prince's play, including an implied Hamlet/Horatio coffee date, weird and extremely short soliloquies, and Gertrude with a hint of motivation and autonomy.

But let us start from the beginning. Long ago, in the year of our lord 2022, I pulled a Christmas Eve all-nighter to bring you this post: https://www.tumblr.com/withasideofshakespeare/704686395278622720/a-rundown-on-the-absolute-chaos-that-is-first?source=share

It was popularish in Shakespeare circles, which is why I am amending it now! I returned to it tonight, only to discover a few problems with my dates and, more importantly, a mystery in which one of my sources miraculously turned into a link to a gardening website...

Anyhow, let us begin with the quarto! TL;DR: Multiple versions of Hamlet were printed between 1603 and 1637 (yes, post-folio) with major character and plot differences between them. The first quarto (aka Q1) is best known for its particular brand of chaos with brief soliloquies, an extra-sad Hamlet, some mother-son bonding, weird early modern spelling, and deleted/adapted scenes with major influences on the plot of the play!

A long rundown is included below the cut, including new and improved sources, lore, direct quotes, and my own interpretations. Skip what bores you! And continue... if thou darest!

What is the First Quarto? Actually, what is a quarto?

Excellent questions, brave Hamlet fan! A quarto is a pamphlet created by printing something onto a large sheet of paper and then folding it to get a smaller pamphlet with more pages per big sheet (1). First Quarto Hamlet was published in 1603 and then promptly lost for an entire two centuries until it was rediscovered in 1823 in the library of Sir Henry Bunbury. Rather than printed from a manuscript of Shakespeare, Q1 seems like it may be a memorial reconstruction of the play by the actor who played Marcellus (imagine being in a movie, memorizing the script to the best of your ability, writing it down, and then selling "your" script off to the print shop), but scholars are still out on this (2).

Are you saying that Hamlet comes with the stageplay equivalent of a “deleted scenes and extra credits” movie disc?

Yep, pretty much! In fact, there are even more of these! Q2 was printed in 1604 and it seems to have made use of Shakespeare's own drafts, and rather than being pirated like Q1, it was probably printed more or less with permission. Three more subsequent quartos were published between 1611 and 1637, but they share much in common with Q2. The First Folio (F1) was published in 1623 and its copy of Hamlet was either based on another (possibly cleaner but likely farther removed from Shakespeare's own text) playhouse manuscript (2, 3). It was an early "collected works" of sorts--although missing a few plays that we now consider canon--and is the main source used today for many of the plays!

The versions of the play that we read usually include elements from both Q2 and F1.

So... Q1? How is it any different from the version we all know (and love, of course)? What do the differences mean for the plot?

We’ll start with minor differences and build up to the big ones.

Names and spellings

Most of the versions of Shakespeare's plays that we read today have updated spellings in modern English, but a true facsimile (a near-exact reprint of a text) maintains the early modern English spellings found in the original text.

For example, here is the second line of the play transcribed from F1:

Francisco: Nay answer me: stand and vnfold your selfe.

For the most part, however, the names of the characters in these later versions (ex: F1) are spelled more or less how we would spell them today. This is not so in Q1.

Laertes is “Leartes”, Ophelia is “Ofelia”, Gertrude is “Gertred” (or sometimes “Gerterd”), Rosencrantz is “Rossencraft”, Guildenstern is “Gilderstone”, and my favorite, Polonius gets a completely different name: Corambis. 

(This goes on for minor characters, too. Sentinel Barnardo is “Bernardo”, Prince Fortinbras of Norway is “Fortenbrasse”, Voltemand and Cornelius--the Danish ambassadors to Norway--are “Voltemar” and “Cornelia” (genderbent Cornelius?), Osric doesn’t even get a name- he is called “the Bragart Gentleman”, the Gravediggers are called clowns, and Reynaldo (Polonius’s spy) gets a whole different name--“Montano”.)

2. Stage directions

Some of Q1's stage directions are more detailed and some are simply non-existent. For instance, when Ophelia enters singing, the direction is:

Enter Ofelia playing on a Lute, and her haire downe singing.

But when Horatio is called to assist Hamlet in spying on Claudius during the play, he has no direction to enter, instead opting to just appear magically on stage. Hamlet also doesn't even say his name, so apparently his Hamlet sense was tingling?

3. Act 3 scene reordering

Claudius and Polonius go through with the plan to have Ophelia break up with Hamlet immediately after they make it (typically, the plan is made in early II.ii and gone through with in III.i, with the players showing up and reciting Hecuba between the two events). In this version, the player scene (and Hamlet’s conversation with Polonius) happen after ‘to be or not to be’ and ‘get thee to a nunnery.’ I’m not sure if this makes more or less sense. Either way, it has a relatively minimal impact on the story.

4. Shortened lines and straightforwardness

Many lines, especially after Act 1, are significantly shortened, including some of the play's most famous speeches.

Laertes’ usually long-winded I.iii lecture on love to Ophelia is shortened to just ten lines (as opposed to the typical 40+). Polonius (er... Corambis) is still annoying and incapable of brevity, but less so than usual. His lecture on love is also cut significantly!

Hamlet’s usual assailing of Danish drinking customs (I.iv) is cut off by the ghost’s arrival. He’s still the most talkative character, but his lines are almost entirely different in some monologues, including ‘to be or not to be’!  In other spots, however, (ex: get thee to a nunnery!) the lines are near-identical. There doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to where things diverge linguistically, except that when Marcellus speaks, his lines are always correct. Hm...

5. The BIG differences: Gertrude’s promise to aid Hamlet in taking revenge

Act 3, scene 4 goes about the same as usual with one major difference: Hamlet finishes off not with his usual declaration that he’s to be sent for England but with an absolutely heart-wrenching callback to act 1, in which he echoes the ghost’s lines and pleads his mother to aid him in revenge. And she agrees. Here is that scene:

Note that "U"s are sometimes "V"s and there are lots of extra "E"s!

Queene Alas, it is the weakenesse of thy braine, Which makes thy tongue to blazon thy hearts griefe: But as I haue a soule, I sweare by heauen, I neuer knew of this most horride murder: But Hamlet, this is onely fantasie, And for my loue forget these idle fits. Ham. Idle, no mother, my pulse doth beate like yours, It is not madnesse that possesseth Hamlet. O mother, if euer you did my deare father loue, Forbeare the adulterous bed to night, And win your selfe by little as you may, In time it may be you wil lothe him quite: And mother, but assist mee in reuenge, And in his death your infamy shall die. Queene Hamlet, I vow by that maiesty, That knowes our thoughts, and lookes into our hearts, I will conceale, consent, and doe my best, What stratagem soe're thou shalt deuise. Ham. It is enough, mother good night: Come sir, I'le prouide for you a graue, Who was in life a foolish prating knaue. Exit Hamlet with [Corambis/Polonius'] dead body. (Internet Shakespeare, Source #4)

Despite having seemingly major consequences for the plot, this is never discussed again. Gertrude tells Claudius in the next scene that it was Hamlet who killed Polonius (Corambis, whatever!), seemingly betraying her promise.

However, Gertrude’s admission of Hamlet’s guilt (and thus, betrayal) could come down to the circumstance she finds herself in as the next scene begins. There is no stage direction denoting her exit, so the entrance of Claudius in scene 5 may be into her room, where he would find her beside a puddle of blood, evidence of the murder. There’s no talking your way out of that one…

6. The BIGGEST difference: The added scene

After Act 4, Scene 6, (but before 4.7) comes this scene, in which Horatio informs Gertrude that Hamlet was to be executed in England but escaped:

Enter Horatio and the Queene. Hor. Madame, your sonne is safe arriv'de in Denmarke, This letter I euen now receiv'd of him, Whereas he writes how he escap't the danger, And subtle treason that the king had plotted, Being crossed by the contention of the windes, He found the Packet sent to the king of England, Wherein he saw himselfe betray'd to death, As at his next conuersion with your grace, He will relate the circumstance at full. Queene Then I perceiue there's treason in his lookes That seem'd to sugar o're his villanie: But I will soothe and please him for a time, For murderous mindes are alwayes jealous, But know not you Horatio where he is? Hor. Yes Madame, and he hath appoynted me To meete him on the east side of the Cittie To morrow morning. Queene O faile not, good Horatio, and withall, commend me A mothers care to him, bid him a while Be wary of his presence, lest that he Faile in that he goes about. Hor. Madam, neuer make doubt of that: I thinke by this the news be come to court: He is arriv'de, obserue the king, and you shall Quickely finde, Hamlet being here, Things fell not to his minde. Queene But what became of Gilderstone and Rossencraft? Hor. He being set ashore, they went for England, And in the Packet there writ down that doome To be perform'd on them poynted for him: And by great chance he had his fathers Seale, So all was done without discouerie. Queene Thankes be to heauen for blessing of the prince, Horatio once againe I take my leaue, With thowsand mothers blessings to my sonne. Horat. Madam adue. (Internet Shakespeare, Source #4)

First of all, the implication of Hamlet and Horatio's little date in the city is adorable ("Yes Madame, and he hath appoynted me / To meete him on the east side of the Cittie / To morrow morning.") It reads like they're going out for coffee!

And perhaps more plot relevant: if Gertrude knows of Claudius’s treachery ("there's treason in his lookes"), her death at the end of the play does not look like much of an accident. She is aware that Claudius killed her husband and is actively trying to kill her son and she still drinks the wine meant for Hamlet!

Now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for! My thoughts! Yippee!  On Gertrude: WOW! I’m convinced that she is done dirty by F1and Q2! She and Hamlet have a much better relationship (Gertrude genuinely worries about his well-being throughout the play.) She has an actual personality that is tied into her role in the story and as a mother. I love Q1 Gertrude even though in the end, there’s nothing she can do to save Hamlet from being found out in the murder of Polonius and eventually dying in the duel. Her drinking the poisoned wine seems like an act of desperation (or sacrifice? she never asks Hamlet to drink!) rather than an accident.

On the language: I think Q1′s biggest shortcoming is its comparatively simplistic language, especially in 'to be or not to be,' which is written like this in the quarto:

Ham. To be, or not to be, I there's the point, To Die, to sleepe, is that all? I all: No, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes, For in that dreame of death, when wee awake, And borne before an euerlasting Iudge [judge], From whence no passenger euer retur'nd, The vndiscouered country, at whose sight The happy smile, and the accursed damn'd. But for this, the ioyfull hope of this, Whol'd beare the scornes and flattery of the world, Scorned by the right rich, the rich curssed of the poore? The widow being oppressed, the orphan wrong'd, The taste of hunger, or a tirants raigne, And thousand more calamities besides, To grunt and sweate vnder this weary life, When that he may his full Quietus make, With a bare bodkin, who would this indure, But for a hope of something after death? Which pusles [puzzles] the braine, and doth confound the sence, Which makes vs rather beare those euilles we haue, Than flie to others that we know not of. I that, O this conscience makes cowardes of vs all, Lady in thy orizons, be all my sinnes remembred. (Internet Shakespeare, Source #4)

The verse is actually closer to perfect iambic pentameter (meaning more lines have exactly ten syllables and consist entirely of iambs--"da-DUM") than in the Folio, which includes many 11-syllable lines. The result of this, however, is that Hamlet comes across here as considerably less frantic (those too-long verse lines in F1 make it feel like he is shoving words into too short a time, which is so very on-theme for him) and more... sad. Somehow, Q1 Hamlet manages to deserve a hug even MORE than F1 Hamlet!

Nevertheless, this speech doesn't hit the way it does in later printings and I have to say I prefer the Folio here.

On the ending: The ending suffers from the same effect ‘to be or not to be’ does--it is simpler and (imo) lacks some of the emotion that F1 emphasizes. Hamlet’s final speech is significantly cut down and Horatio’s last lines aren’t quite so potent--although they’re still sweet!

Horatio. Content your selues, Ile shew to all, the ground, The first beginning of this Tragedy: Let there a scaffold be rearde vp in the market place, And let the State of the world be there: Where you shall heare such a sad story tolde, That neuer mortall man could more vnfolde. (Internet Shakespeare, Source #4)

Horatio generally is a more active character in Q1 Hamlet. This ending suits this characterization. He will tell Hamlet’s story, tragic as it may be. It reminds me a bit of We Raise Our Cups from Hadestown. I appreciate that this isn't a request but a command: put up a stage, I will tell this story. Closing notes: After over a year, it was due time this post received an update. My main revisions were in regard to source verification. Somehow, in the last year or so, one of my old sources went from linking to a PDF of Q1 to a garden website (???) and some citations were missing from the get-go as a result of this being an independently researched post that involved pulling an all-nighter on Christmas Eve (but no excuses, we need sources!)

I have also corrected some badly worded commentary implying that the Folio's verse is more iambic pentameter-y (it's not; in fact, Q1 tends to "normalize" its verse to make it fit a typical blank verse scheme better than the Folio's does--the lines actually flow better, typically have exactly ten syllables, and use more iambs than Q1's) as well as that the spelling in the Folio is any more modern than those in Q1 (they're both in early modern English; I was mistakenly reading a modernized Folio and assuming it to be a transcription--nice one, 17-year-old Dianthus!) Additionally, I corrected the line breaks in my verse transcriptions and returned the block quotations to their original early modern English, which feels more authentic to what was actually written. A few other details and notes were added here and there, but the majority of the substance is the same.

Overall, if you still haven't read Q1, you absolutely should! Once you struggle through the spelling for a while, you'll get used to it and it'll be just as easy as modern English! If you'd prefer to just start with the modern English, I have also linked a modern translation below (source 5). And finally, my sources! Not up to citation standards but very user-friendly I hope... 1. Oxford English Dictionary 2. Internet Shakespeare, Hamlet, "The Texts", David Bevington (https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_TextIntro/index.html) 3. The Riverside Shakespeare (pub. Houghton Mifflin Company; G.B. Evans, et al.) 4. Internet Shakespeare, First Quarto (facsimile--in early modern English) (https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q1/complete/index.html) 5. Internet Shakespeare, First Quarto (modern English) (https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q1M/index.html)

And here conclude we our scholarly tale, Of sources, citation, and Christmastime too, Go read the First Quarto! And here, I leave you.

[masterwords]

between you and me

Summary: Hotch & Morgan go out into the wilderness for a weekend survival competition. They're wet, muddy and happy. That's all. There isn't a plot here.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: a lot of swearing, dude talk, food, chronic pain (hotch), foyet & stabbing mentions

AO3: between you and me

Notes: I had this image of them being skilled and competent and really adorable in the woods, and this is what came of it. A lot harder to write than you would think - it's so much just snappy dialogue and vibes. Don't expect poetry. Also, it should go without saying but: I made this up. This is not a real thing, I just wanted to put them in the woods with low-stakes and the ability to have some fun together doing the insane type adrenaline junkie shit I know those fools would enjoy. So, I made up an incredibly silly scenario and went all in.

***

“Both of you?” Rossi asked with a smirk. Looks like a cat who just got a mouthful of canary. “How long ago did you put in?”

“They’ve been passing me up for five years, Rossi.” Morgan lamented his misery convincingly while Hotch just smiled in that gentle, confident but subdued way he had that said I win. Everything was a competition with them.

“I’m at eight. They claimed it was too hard to justify putting a Unit Chief out of commission for three days, what if I had to be recalled and there was no service? And then when they did finally select me…”

“Foyet. I remember.” Rossi almost hated using the man’s name, like it might bring him back from the dead. He was hesitant and let his eyes linger on Hotch for a moment longer than necessary, gauging his reaction. It had been two years but he wasn’t sure time really mattered when trying to heal something like that. To his credit, Hotch gave no real indication that it made any difference. He simply nodded somberly and agreed – yes, he’d been chosen, and then Foyet met him in his apartment and bled him out, stopped his heart, rendered him incapable of participating. And ever since then, they’d pulled the Unit Chief speech when he asked why he wasn’t selected but he knew – they were afraid of his physical status after the stabbing. He must finally have worn them down, or proven that he was physically capable. Or maybe they were just tired of him throwing his name in the bucket and had a pool going to see how far he could make it before he collapsed. He might be wondering that himself.

“And you still want to do it? Go spend three days in the woods miserable with no roof over your head, no bed to sleep in, no good food or hot running water?”

“Bold talk comin’ from a Marine…”

“Ever heard of the draft, smart ass?”

“Fair enough. But we’re doing it and yes, we want to do it.” Derek had no idea if Rossi was being honest about the draft situation, he’d known he was a vet but he realized he didn’t know that much about Rossi’s service. Didn’t seem like the time to ask, anyway.

“Will you be together or are they separating you?”

“No idea. We’ll find out at the debrief tonight, they’re serving dinner and giving us our assignments. I’m assuming we’ll be separate, can’t imagine why they’d keep us together. It’s gotta be like a lottery situation. God I hope I don’t get paired up with some DEA asshat.”

“It’s only branches of the FBI this round,” Hotch pointed out, leaving through the paperwork he’d been given. It was vague about most details, just dates and times and a whole lot of TBA. It made his skin prickle. “Awfully secretive.” That he muttered more to himself, but Derek heard and it got his wheels turning.

“Well, damn. And here I thought you boys might be getting a date night out of this.”

That made Hotch and Morgan both laugh. They did like things a little off the beaten path when it came to their personal lives, but that’s what you get when you put two adrenaline junkies together in close quarters – what they considered dates weren’t exactly things other couples might. They preferred a day out on their bikes in the mountain air to a movie night, and an evening at the swimming pool taking laps and sucking chlorine was better than a stuffy and expensive candlelit dinner. So to say that a weekend spent in the woods utilizing survival training skills instead of lounging around the house sounded like a date wasn’t far off base. Of course, in Rossi’s very wise opinion, he thought they could both better use their time by simply taking a nap.

As it turned out, they were partnered up. It was a department challenge, two from counter-terrorism, two from organized crime, two from BAU, two from the fugitive task force, two from political corruption and two from the cyber crimes unit. Hotch looked around at the people he knew and tried to imagine them in the woods, tried to imagine them with a better partner than his. “We’ve got this,” he whispered to Derek who simply nodded his approval. It was a competition, and the two of them were not in the habit of losing, even to people who were in far better shape than them. Derek had been battling a chest cold the week prior, though he seemed to be mostly in the clear, and Hotch had overdone it playing soccer with Jack and been dealing with some latent knee pain for the last few days. The medications they’d put him on after the stabbing struck him with only mild side effects most of the time, but the most cumbersome was the intermittent bouts of joint pain. It came and went, usually after he’d overdone it and he was very good at overdoing it. Overdoing it was kind of his specialty.

One day of training with Commander Stevens, a Navy SEAL who had the brilliant idea to put the FBI through the ringer. Just for fun, or so he implied. “Torture the pencil pushers,” was what Hotch overheard him whispering with some fellow officers. Hotch wasn’t motivated by needing to prove himself to anyone but he was certain some of these people at the tables eating pinwheel sandwiches from Costco were allowing their feathers to be ruffled by the insinuation that they weren’t tough enough. That alone would give him a competitive edge – he didn’t need to prove himself to anyone.

They had reported to Quantico at 6am for the first of it, bright eyed and coffee in hand. Derek’s cold was all but gone and Hotch felt good. Optimistic. They spent the morning in a classroom listening to the Commander lecture about survival in the Appalachians, people who walk the trail, how they get lost and how to avoid it. Survival for beginners is what Derek said later, and he prided himself on not being a beginner. The two of them had spent some time out in the Smokey Mountains, nothing close to the intensity of the next few days but they weren’t strangers to the area. After lunch they spent the afternoon brushing up on skills training, getting their equipment, learning the rules of the game.

“This remind you of those movies where bored rich guys are hunting dudes in the woods?” Derek asked as he tossed his 75lb backpack into their SUV and waited while Hotch did the same. Three days and two nights in the woods walking for upwards of thirty miles when all was said and done with a backpack that weighed as much as Jack strapped to each of their backs, that realization was the first time Hotch felt a little pang of anxiety. He could do it but he was going to pay for it.

“You and Jessica watch too much television.”

“No seriously. This is how they all start, they’re like oh you guys are the best of the best and you won this fantastic retreat or vacation or really high honor of some kind...then bam. You’re being hunted by rich dudes with fuckin’ laser guns you didn’t even know existed yet, some kind of military grade stuff you only see in movies starring Schwarzenegger.”

“Way too much television…”

Derek ran his idea by Jessica while they shared their last family dinner for a few days and she agreed wholeheartedly. Didn’t even miss a beat. “You guys be careful,” she said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. Jack looked on with wide eyes, taking in everything they said but not picking up on the sarcasm lacing every word.

“Is it dangerous?” he asked, trying to make some sense of it in the way young kids do. He still had trouble differentiating fact from fiction, cartoons from reality, and Derek and Jessica were not helping in the slightest. Jessica shot Hotch a look that said to tread lightly. He wasn’t sure if that meant lie through his teeth or be honest. Both felt wrong, and this question was her fault anyway...why should he have to be the one to answer for it? Didn’t seem quite fair.

“It can be, buddy. But I’ll be okay. I’ll be with Derek, and there are fail safes in place if we get into trouble. It’s supposed to be for fun. A learning experience and a game.”

“A game!” That seemed to please him.

“The most dangerous game…” Derek whispered and Hotch elbowed him a little too hard in the ribs.

“Exactly, Jack. A fun game. Kind of like camping and a race...capture the flag for grown ups.”

“Can we go camping soon?” Crisis averted. Jack was no longer concerned about his dads being hunted in the woods. Whatever that meant. He still wasn’t sure.

“Sure buddy.” An easy concession.

Even Hotch couldn’t help feeling a little trepidation when they were dropped into the woods by helicopter. That did feel a little too on the nose, a little too much like one of the movies Derek couldn’t stop talking about. It was meant to disorient them, and it succeeded. “Just like in SWAT,” Derek said as he checked Hotch’s pack and Hotch did the same for him. “You ready?”

“Born ready.” A bit of a stretch, they both knew. But the minute he was standing with this face turned into the wind, that adrenaline rush kicked in and he sucked in a breath of fresh air and helicopter gasoline and maybe he felt like it wasn’t such a stretch after all.

Derek descended the ladder first with Hotch right behind him. The sound of the chopper hurt Hotch’s ears until it disappeared over the treeline and they were left alone with the sounds of the woods. Without a word they each began surveying their surroundings – Hotch consulted his map while Derek walked around and got a lay of the land, checked out the views, climbed up a tree for a better view. In the end, they both decided on the same route. No argument, no issue. Off to a surprisingly easy start.

Jessica had guessed they’d be fighting over which route to take immediately and they couldn’t wait to tell her how wrong she was.

They walked and walked and walked. The air was heavy, the humidity oppressive. Hotch could feel sweat pooling at the base of his spine. Derek seemed to be handling it worse than he was – he’d already taken his long sleeves off. Hotch wouldn’t even think of it for a while yet. He’d rather have the protection from bugs. He can handle sweat.

They didn’t talk while they walked, didn’t want to waste precious energy on the first day – it’s all climbing elevation, steep hills that seem to go on and on forever but when they stopped for a moment to have a water break and a bite of food, they settled into quiet and pleasant conversation about things they saw, smelled, heard. Everything seemed to flow together seamlessly, the way Hotch would take the lead in places and Derek would slip by and take the lead in others. Instinctively knowing when one or the other needed a chance to suck wind in the back, slow down and smell the roses so to speak.

They managed almost ten miles before they decided to set up camp for the night. Everyone else had planned to stop around the 8th mile, before the big elevation change. It had sounded nice, too, when they stood at the base of the mound that rose before them, but they were both feeling up to a few extra miles and the weather held while they traveled. They watched a storm rolling in over the tree line and knew they’d rather be further ahead when it finally hit, just in case it took them longer to get going the next day. Having higher ground sounded appealing for a rain storm.

Quietly they set up their little camp, stringing a tarp between trees, getting their fire going, making sure they had what they needed before raising the rest of their packs up into the trees above, wrapped securely in tarp. They had each brought their own sleeping bag and wool blankets, just in case they were caught sleeping in a camp with others, but out here on their own they decided to pool their resources and get cozy.

It was a date night, after all. They’d slipped just enough off the path that they didn’t imagine anyone would wander by them if they slept a little later. It was safe.

The storm hit while they boiled their water to heat up their MRE packets. Out of their selections, Hotch decided they should have the biscuits and gravy with a side of chorizo breakfast tacos. Derek was appalled by his selections but when he looked at the other options he realized they didn’t sound any better. The first pang of homesick hit him then, as he crumbled freeze dried biscuits into a mylar bag and reconstituted their meal. He thought about sitting around the table with Jessica and Jack, with his family, and digging into a delicious warm meal that hadn’t been preserved before he was born. They had a good time describing the flavors of the meal, picking it apart like they were eating at a michelin star restaurant instead of out of mylar bags in the woods. Hotch decided that the biscuits and gravy weren’t half bad for space bag food, but the tacos were appalling. Derek could barely choke down either of them and refused to call them food.

It was soft at first, just the pitter-patter of fat rain drops falling through trees and plopping onto their tarp but soon it began pounding and Derek pushed in closer to Hotch as the ground absorbed the water and crept closer to them. “This is gonna suck,” he said, but he barely meant it. He was leaning against Hotch eating a cookie that was probably made when Rossi was in the Marines and mixing up a cup of powdery lemonade chock full of salty crumbly bits. “This would be better with vodka,” he said, setting the small paper cup to his lips. Hotch smiled and agreed in his sleepy way. He was halfway to lights out already.

The second day was all rain. They woke up wet and packed up their wet camp and set out in wet clothes. Derek threw his ballcap on and Hotch cinched up the hood of his rain jacket until hardly more than his nose protruded from the opening, and that was how they set out very glad they didn’t have to climb that first hill in the mud. The rest of the group was going to have some trouble with their footing. By mid-morning they both had the start of some serious blisters, Derek was freezing, and they were clinging to that small happiness that came with knowing they had given themselves a solid head start on the day. Not as far to go before they could set up camp, light a fire and try to get warm.

Hotch began limping by mid-day. Derek had just decided it was his turn to lead and slowed his pace to drop behind, let Hotch past, and that was when he first noticed. He wondered how long it had been going on behind him. He didn’t seem to care about trying to hide it.

Just a slight limp at first, becoming more and more pronounced as the silent miles wore on. Derek tried to talk him into a water break, a rest, anything. He couldn’t bear to watch it without trying to stop it.

“Derek, we’re three miles from today’s rendezvous and we’re hours ahead of schedule. We keep to the plan, we stop only we get there.”

“You’re limping.”

“And I’ll limp for three more miles.”

The way he said it so matter-of-fact grated on Derek’s nerves. It was the first time he could feel an argument bubbling up in his chest during the whole time they’d been out there. He swallowed it down and pleaded instead.

“Why don’t we just take a breather? You said it yourself, we’re hours ahead of schedule. A short water break, you can rest your leg and I can find my rain jacket.”

Hotch slowed his pace and turned to Derek, softening enough that he didn’t come across mean. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this weekend. “Your rain jacket is tied around your waist, and if I stop now, I might not be able to get going again at this pace. I don’t want to lose momentum.”

“Come on, man. I was hoping this trip would be fun, not miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“So you like limping through the woods?”

“Derek...if my ability to enjoy things was contingent on my body feeling good, I would lead a very different life than I do now. You know that my body has been different since Foyet’s attack and I think I’ve done a pretty good job of not letting it stop us from having fun. Part of that is knowing when I can push through and when I can’t. I can push through this. I can make it three miles. I believe I could make it at least five, if I’m being honest, but I’d rather not.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better…”

“It wasn’t meant to, it was just meant to let you know that I’m not stopping and I am having a good time. This is fun.”

“Yeah. Okay. What is it?”

“My knee.”

“The one you tweaked when we were out with Jack the other day?”

“The very same. Probably just the medication making an overuse issue worse. Please stop worrying and walk faster. Don’t let a guy with a bum knee out-hike you.”

They walked on, the banter predictably turning to light bickering, competitive shit talk, but always smiling. Derek figured it was easier to light up a small argument that would keep them both distracted for the last few miles than continue to try and get Hotch to stop. It was futile to try and get Hotch to do anything he didn’t want to do. That lesson had been a hard one to learn.

They came up on their check in point and were pleased to find that they were the third pair out of ten to pass through. Not bad, considering the limping slowing them down some, though Hotch had blamed it mostly on Derek. From there, all they had to do was find themselves a place to set up camp for the night and wait for everyone else to arrive. This was the only night where there were group activities in store, team building exercises that neither Hotch nor Morgan was thrilled about. They found a place a little off the beaten path, away from the crowd of people who wanted to be close to visit and talk about their experiences. They had no interest in making small talk. With the hope that those ominous clouds overhead would pass them by without dumping on them, they began to quickly assemble their camp. They were already cold and wet, their shoes were wet on the inside and Derek insisted that Hotch prop his leg up on the mound of his pack and put some ice on his knee instead of them hoisting the pack up the tree. They had two portable cold packs that wouldn’t do him much good, but there was a small creek nearby and Derek thought maybe later, if the weather held, they could go stand in it for a while. That would feel good on their aching legs and feet, sweet relief for both of them. For now, they ate some snacks and ended up falling asleep to the pitter-patter of tiny raindrops.

By evening, it was another full scale storm. No thunder and lightning, but soaking wet. No fires, which meant no hot food. Just huddling together under the blankets they had for warmth and eating the convenience food they’d stored – some nuts and dried fruits, granola, bottled water and beef jerky. Not enough to fill either of them up but they were glad for the storm and Derek hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the prospect of freeze dried beef stroganoff or chicken alfredo and peach cobbler that would just make him even more homesick for some real food. The weather had meant that the team building exercises were put on hold and they couldn’t complain about that, certainly.

Instead, they got a second date night, just like Dave had said. They tangled themselves together and shared the blankets for warmth, knowing that they had a definite advantage over anyone not involved in an explicitly forbidden (or at least frowned upon) workplace love affair. They had the kind of warmth that comes from being close, sharing body heat. Derek thought about Jerry and Mason from the fugitive team huddling like this and the thought brought him nearly to laughter.

“Hotch,” Derek whispered after a long silence, after listening to the storm rustle through the trees above them and rattle the tarp, thankful that there was no lightning. He shifted their bodies to get them off of the protruding root that was digging into his hip and curled up a little tighter. “You gonna be okay to walk fifteen miles tomorrow?”

Hotch hummed. “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

“We can tap out. Take the day and just chill. No shame in that.”

“Not a chance. Why, are you tired? Do you want to stop?”

“What? No. What…”

“It just sounds like maybe you’re using my knee as a way out.”

“I am not.”

“No?” Hotch asked, smiling as he kissed Derek in the dark, nuzzling his cold nose into Derek’s warm skin. “You sure?”

“Man. Fuck your knee. I hope it gives out on you tomorrow.”

“No you don’t.”

“I’ll leave you behind, let you get snatched by the people hunters.”

“No you won’t.”

Derek sighed. “No I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I forgive you.”

Hotch’s knee held up better than he’d anticipated through the last fifteen miles of the trek. The ache was deep and kept him awake some of the night worrying that he was being over-confident, but by morning it had loosened up some. He was limping and in considerable pain somewhere around the fifth mile but they had a good time, and that was worth plenty of discomfort in his book. By the tenth mile Derek had himself a little limp too, his blisters giving him grief. It wasn’t so much a limp, Hotch thought, as it was a painful waddle through the woods.

“My gooch is on fire,” Derek said when he noticed Hotch scrutinizing the way he was walking. “Damn rain gave me some wicked swamp ass.”

“Derek…” Hotch laughed, shaking his head.

“What? You sayin’ it’s not bothering you?”

Hotch refused to dignify that with an answer.

The last day was gloriously rain free, and where they ended had even better access to the creek than their camp the night before. So they had to trudge through thick, soupy mud and fight their way up past landslides to get to the end...it would make the creek that much better. At more than one spot, Hotch allowed Derek to help hoist him up, pull him up a hill when his knee buckled beneath him and refused to support his weight at certain angles. He couldn’t even be mad about that, not even when Derek insisted that he piggy back to the finish. (Hotch’s staunch refusal to even consider it gave him a hearty laugh, the kind that fueled the rest of his walk. Put a pep in his step, as his mother would say.)

They didn’t arrive first, that was Jerry and Mason from fugitive and Derek assumed it was the thought of snuggling the night before...they were so appalled at it, they didn’t sleep, they just got up and finished the race. Hotch and Derek managed to come in a respectable third and were pleased with it.

“You think the richies got the cyber nerds?”

“We’ll never know,” Hotch said, rolling his eyes at Derek’s question. He had been surprised that the commentary on human hunters had been dropped while they were out in the woods, maybe that was due to his knee taking up too much of Derek’s thoughts. If that was the case, he was thankful for the pain he’d endured that much more.

As soon as all of the formalities were done and everyone had separated, tired and ready for a shower, Hotch sent Jessica a text to let her know where to get them. It was his first time turning on his phone in days and he was glad to slide it back into his bag, ready to kick out of his shoes and do a quick change into shorts and t-shirts for some time in the creek. Everyone else piled out, ready to return to civilization but they wanted to stick around a while. It was the best part of the whole trip, standing in the icy water, all blisters and swollen knee and swamp ass, eating handfuls of trail mix while they waited for Jess and Jack to come pick them up.

“You boys look rough!” Jess called, walking carefully down the slope of pebbly hillside toward the water while Jack and Clooney bounded quickly. No fear. Her feet slipped out from under her more than once in the loose packed ground that had been ravaged by the storms of the last two days. Hotch and Derek just stood in the water and watched, content not to move, just to stand.

Jack and Clooney played with rocks, Jack trying to skip them over the current and Clooney trying to catch them while Jessica attacked them with a barrage of questions from her dry perch on the rocky beach. She wasn’t about to take her shoes off and get in, she knew damn well that water was cold.

“No hunters?”

“No hunters,” Hotch replied quickly. Derek shot him a disparaging look and then glanced at Jessica.

“We don’t know that. We never saw the guys from cyber crimes come out…”

Hotch groaned. “I overheard Jerry from fugitive say that the cyber guys tapped out the first night when it started raining.”

“Sure they did. You believe that? They’re someone’s dinner, buddy.”

Hotch, with a smile, decided he’d had enough of the woods and was ready to go home. He hadn’t been able to take any pain medication while they were out in the woods, not wanting to dull his senses when he needed them, but boy was he ready now to make up for lost time. Jack watched his dad limp gingerly out of the water with a look of concern, and without hesitation Jessica reached out to take his hand. She steadied him as he struggled to find adequate footing on slippery rocks.

“Bum knee?” she asked, stepping dangerously close to the water in her shoes. He made an effort to move a little faster, holding her hand but not letting her do much.

“Yeah. Bum knee.”

“Let me help you old man.” She held his hand tighter and guided him out of the water, letting him lean on her for the short walk up the hill. Derek followed close behind with Jack slung over his shoulder and Clooney nipping at his heels. He’d come back for their packs once his family was securely placed in the vehicle and ready to go. They had a long drive ahead of them.

“He says he’s fine.”

“Oh, yeah, well he definitely looks fine.”

“I am fine.” Hotch was grumbling as he fumbled with his seat belt in Jessica’s little rust bucket of a car. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford a better car, she just didn’t want one. She loved her old Volkswagen Rabbit that required a special mechanic and wait times that were absurd for broken parts, with its rusted burnt orange paint job and bright flower decals that screamed Woodstock and Grateful Dead. Hotch barely fit in the car and he had to slide in sideways, bending his sore knees at an awkward angle to make sure Jack would fit behind him and Derek could slide in on the other side. Jessica didn’t let anyone else drive her car and she hated when Hotch was in the front seat, his long legs dangerously close to the stick shift. No way he’d fit in the back, though. “You should have brought my car,” Hotch said when she started the engine. It took two tries and at least ten minutes to let the old girl warm up enough that she wouldn’t stall out the minute Jessica tried to hit the gas.

“I hate driving that thing. It’s a grandma car.”

He had no argument there. If grandma car meant safe and secure, if that meant protected, then yeah. He did drive a grandma car. She drove a rust bucket and Derek had a motorcycle, one of them had to be responsible.

“Can we have PIZZA for dinner?!” Jack asked, thrashing around in the backseat and kneeing Hotch in the small of his back repeatedly through the thin, broken down old leather seats. Clooney’s hot breath from the back was overpowering. Hotch frowned and cranked the window down for some air.

“I want steak. A big juicy steak. One that came from a cow that was alive this century.”

“Jess, you up for playing grillmaster tonight? I don’t think I can stand that long…” Derek said, trying to stretch his legs out along the backseat, right over the top of Jack. His seat belt didn’t work anyway, and he was beat. A barbecue did sound nice though, Hotch had the right idea. A big juicy steak, some ibuprofen (and maybe something a little stronger for Hotch), some beers, and a long long nap. After a shower. He had mud in places he didn’t know mud could get.

“If I get to wear your apron and use your fancy spatula. You know the one.”

Derek grunted under his breath about that being his stuff, but he couldn’t argue. If it meant he didn’t have to do the work he’d probably agree to just about anything.

And as the sun sank over the trees, Jessica stood in Derek’s apron (that hung to her knees and looked ridiculous on a woman her size) and started getting the grill ready. She would enjoy getting the chance to be grillmaster for the night, Derek didn’t often relinquish the job. Hotch rarely took it, he preferred to lounge in the hammock, his one true indulgence. It was her turn. She set about cleaning the grill and seasoning it first, going through all the steps before slapping the big fat steaks on to sizzle while Jack and Clooney played. Hotch and Derek, freshly showered and medicated, were content to doze off in the hammock together and wait for their meal which they both promised they would wake back up for.

“If you don’t, Clooney will eat your steaks. There’s always the MREs in your pack for later. I saw one that said it was beef ravioli in meat sauce. Sounds delicious.”

“Why are you so mean?” Derek whined, his voice muffled and sleepy. His face was pressed into the back of Hotch’s head, Hotch who was already fast asleep smelling like sweet shampoo and icy hot. It hadn’t taken him any time at all once his eyes were closed. She smiled and shrugged.

“Go to sleep Derek. I’m sure the mosquitoes will wake you up before I do.”

[markicantwait]

Warning: malexmale, Mark and Jaemin are switch. Bad writing. Not really a fic or a plot, just some hard thoughts. Female reader. If you are a minor, please don't read. Polyamory thing I think. Bad bad bad bad writing and smut scenes. Suggestive. Not really smut because I can speak English. And yes, part 3 ( and I hope final) is around the corner.

Part ll of this (kinda)

It was easy and simple to match your routine with the boys, you were basically with them 247 before that night at the apartment. You and Jaemin had classes together, do homework together, study together; Mark also helped the two of you, sometimes Jaemin will be sitting between his legs while you are at the other side watching them being so... comfortable.

Sometimes you will sit on Mark's lap while Jaemin was taking a shower or doing something that requires his complete attention, he would watch the two of you and ask you questions like he normally does without a hint of awkwardness for this new scenario.

Since that night, nothing too sexual happened again. Some kisses here and there, a lotta cuddle sessions and some "dates" inside Mark and Jaemin's apartment. And that's kinda frustrated for you.

That afternoon they guys asked you to come, you picked up food and already knew the door code, so you just get inside the apartment. You were just about to call Jaemin name when you hear them, of course you will recognize the moans of the two men who did make you come that warm night

"God, Mark, you feel so good"

What you should do? You could live and wait a bit, then call and ask if you could come. You can call them too. You could just get inside the room and watch them

You noticed the stamina the boys may have. Sometimes Jaemin will appear with some new hickeys at places you knew you didn't kiss. Other times, Mark will walk around the apartment shirtless, the marks on his hips, or his shoulders, or his neck, or his torso giving you a good dreamy scenario of what he and Jaemin do when the door closes.

"I can't wait to have her between us. What you think, hyung? Meaby this time you can hit me from behind while I'm inside her, bet that would make you cum really hard, right?"

"We could try"

The two boys look at you standing at the door, the Imagine was better of what you thought.

Mark flushed skin, messy hair, sweat torso, the veins of his arms while trying to keep his self up all in fours, red lips and tongue picking out his mouth

Jaemin holding Marks torso and neck, red plumping lips, bangs sticking to forehead, strong chest, shoulders and arms marked with scratches and dark dizzy eyes

Jaemin asked you to wait for them in the living room for a moment, five minutes later the three of you were sitting facing each other, the guys wearing baths rope and still smelling like sex

"We thought it would take you longer to come" Mark was the first one to broke the silence

"My class ended early"

The anxiety hit you all at once, they look almost guilty of something, they didn't want you? What if they tell you they didn't mean what you heard? What if they wanna... stop seeing you?

"And?"

"Pardon?"

"You will be up to try what you heard me saying there?"

You will. You been dreaming about it for the past month, the makeout session, the cuddles, the words, the thickness tension in the air when the three of you are together. You can deny the nervousness in you body, the little doubts here and there about things you don't know if you want to think about it just yet

Right now, you want the two of them.

Mark lisp smash yours first, Jaemin undressed you at the same time he was kissing your shoulders, touching your boobs and ass. At some point your body was pressed under Jaemin in the bed while Mark was busy takin out your shoes

"I can't wait to be inside you- Jaemin said out loud- is this the first time you are with two people at the same time?"

"Yes"

Jaemin fingers touched your clit in slow motion, kisses in your neck and cheeks, you feel like crying near to the desperation point brake

"What you said, Mark: shall we take turns? Meaby we can prepare her well enough to take the two of us at the same time... or we could try the fantasy you been dreaming of and fuck me from behind while I fuck her face to face so I can see her pretty face"

The mere thought makes you moan and whimper, at this point begging was everything you could do, your dizzy head expecting that Jaemin said.

"Should I prepare you? Or you want me to eat you out like the last time? Fuck, Jaemin, that night was one of the hottest nights of my life"

Mark's hands were touching your legs, the pressure on it delicious along with his raspy voice and authority aura making you shiver

"The feeling of you mouth around my cock, the imagine of Jaemin making you come because his tongue and when you beg us to fuck your mouth at the same time I thought I would come"

Amd just like that, you first orgasm of the night came.

[luffysprincess]

OH MY GOD!! I LOVE THE CONCEPT OF LIBRARY OF LOVE SO MUCH AAAAAA 🔥🔥

Alright alright 😌

So me and Isagi :DDDD Hehehheheh 

Okay so first of all, amusement parks, baking dates, late night walks/drives, all nighters binging + pizza proceeded with sleeping in late and dancing in the room at 3 AM are definitely VERY COMMON with me and Isagi. I like to fuck my schedule up ( weak Si, don't come at me D: ) and pull him along in it :D (others call it distrubing the sleep cycle, I call it bringing him out of his shell shh) 

2) I like to think we knew each other for quite a while before I started dating (because I prefer knowing people before I date them), he was the athelete, sports kid and I was the academic achiever. He gave me motivation to take PE periods seriously and not "waste" them finishing up extra school work and I helped him with calculus :P 

3) We are both essentially easy people to be around, y'know? We aren't asshole to anyone without reason (we don't talk about Isagi on field shh) I mean he's an INFJ and I'm an ENFP so you can imagine.😂 (That doesn't mean we're both not PRETTY ambitious.) 

4) Oh yesss we definitely have LOOOOONG conversation which are mostly philosophical but we talk about anything and everything really 😂 I connect the best through such long discussions where I can see how similar we think, and if not, then how well we can respect each other's opinion. 

5) Oh wait. This is getting long. mm.... for the last one, my love language for giving is physical touch (as of what I've discovered so far T-T) and for recieving is words of affirmation...if that helps?

I hope this isn't too long!!

⌱ TITLE: The Love Switch

⌱ GENRE: Mystery, Comedy, Romance

⌱ PREDOMINANT TROPE(S): friends to lovers, idiots to lovers

⌱ SYNOPSIS:

Mira and Isagi have been the best of friends since birth. Everyone around them expects them to fall in love and get married one day. Rightfully so considered they’re in love with each other, but the two are both adamant that the other doesn’t see them romantically.

Things get weird for the two when one morning after visiting a local haunted museum, they wake up in each other’s bodies. But when they try to revisit said museum, they find the building completely empty and abandoned. The two must work together to undo whatever has brought them into this predicament, but in doing so, secrets are revealed. Secrets that will change the dynamics of their relationship.

⌱ ADDITIONAL PLOT POINTS:

The first thing Isagi does when he realizes he’s in Mira’s body is he flashes himself. He’s a guy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He definitely feels bad that he’s seen Mira naked without her consent but he’d have to sooner or later in order to shower. And Mira will also be seeing him naked so it’s all justified in his head.

Mira and Isagi stay switched for three weeks. They had to switch lives bc no one else can find out that they’re in each other’s bodies.

At some point Isagi finds Mira’s diary in her room that he resides in and finds love confessions to a guy named Igasi and is crushed bc he had hopes that she loved him back.

Mira was just paranoid someone would find her diary so she used a code name for Isagi in her diary. Isagi is an idiot for not figuring that out. Angst ensues but all is revealed at the end.

When they switch back it’s mid-kiss on pg 261. Yes true love’s kiss was the cure. No they did not know this. They just accidentally saved themselves.

⌱ AESTHETIC:

[sebsxphia]

You wanna know what thought has had a stranglehold on my brain for the past few days?

Reader being friends with both Bradley and Jake while they’re in the midst of their whole enemies/exes to lovers plot line. Reader having the biggest crushes on both of them (she’s in denial she’s fully in love) but knowing they’re basically soulmates. And despite how painful it is for her she schemes to get them together. Then once they are finally together it’s too painful for reader to be around them anymore so she tries to ease herself out of their lives and subsequently them realizing that something (*cough cough* someone) is missing from their relationship. And then one night jake is like “Bradley (his first name so you know it’s serious business) I have to tell you something… I’m in love with reader” and Rooster being like “thank god you said something because I’m also in love with reader” and then instead of just declaring their love for her they decided to try to phase her into their relationship. (They don’t wanna scare her but also they’re dumbasses) Basically going on dates both individually and all together. Heavy pda or as much as they feel they can get away with (kisses to her head and forehead, holding hands, lingering touches, resting their heads on her shoulders). Pet names (honey,darling,sweets, etc.). Declaring their love in such a way that leaves her head spinning but also deeply confused because isn’t Bradley supposed to be dating Jake? Maybe she’s looking into it too much? (She’s not) and then finally one day it comes to a breaking point and she has to ask what the hell is going on because she is both deeply confused and starting to feel guilty because how is she homewrecking a relationship she helped build? And them having to tell her she is not going crazy or destroying their relationship. They are very much in love with each other, but the are also very much in love with her too. And her thinking they’re dumbasses for not telling her that to begin with but also being relieved because she is very much in love with them too.

Sorry that was a long thought, but I hope you enjoyed it and hope you’re having a lovely day

AAAAAH MY DEAR ANON 🥹🥹 please don’t apologise one bit because i absolutely love this!! it’s one of my favorite things to do is imagine how poly relationships evolved.

i think, affectionately, yes they’d both be dumbasses. mainly because they’ve never experienced this before and they don’t know what to do, also because their love and feelings for you and each other being so overwhelming.

oh to have two handsome pilots fawning over you and building a healthy and loving relationship with all three of each other 🥹

thank you so much for this wonderfully sweet thought my dear anon!! i adore it and i hope you’re having a wonderful day yourself, mwah!! 💌💖💗

[when-life-gives-you-lemons-if]

So, I finally got around to playing the update. Here my thoughts

But before that quick fun facts, this update was great for me since I 💯 percent forgot my og mc so I got to play around with the one I headcanon about. Her name is Megara Theban, she has a daughter named Deianira Calydon Theban. (If you ever watch Disney's Hercules or a Greek nerd. you know, you know bonus if you know what Deianira name translates to but for me definition I took nice version than what really means)

One: I really like how it goes so far, and I'm just very excited to see the birthday party (totally not because I like to see the world burn and invite all my Ros. Which is totally not awkward since Meg decided to have one night stand with best boi)

Two: the Hookups are very interesting I'm more intrigued on how Harlem will play out and this isn't me just saying it because we happen to share username (pss: I do love them tho lol only what few interactions and I'm yes your my new fav haha)

Three: Brenda... Yeah I both hate and like here. On one hand I understand why she would ship /projecting since she knows and in certain cases seem them dating and they were really good together, the other she recently divorce and seeing mc have more options while not really looking for them could make anyone jealous. HOWEVER if you're playing a route and don't want ex to be ro (in other words you are going for a different route but have ex as an ex) she can be quite annoying especially when she playing matchmaker when unwanted. (Ex my meg is going for slowburn with ex so in beginning she more cold to him. But also cold to Brenda since one she involved herself in something that has nothing to due with her and two feels little bit push into unwanted relationship since she keeps bring it up and hope for them together.) Tldr: I can see if she has some haters but I see the nuance

Four: I'm very interested on how far the neighbor war will go especially now it's involves mc's work (aka the Barlow project) and what happened if find one of the homeless people did it (meaning what they arrest someone who involved aka pay to do it but they don't find the mastermind)

Lol that was long.... 😅 but very deep and insightful. It's like you really went in there and analyzed every little detail and I'm loving it. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

Totally agree about the hookups VS ROs because I'm starting to feel like some of them are very interesting.. for example Officer Costa in one of the dialogue, MC can find out that they are a Widower/Widow. Imagine the love story I could write with that prompt alone. The whole way of meeting MC during a call for vandalism, then hooking up with MC and thinking well maybe it was just that... just a one night stand and Costa finding themselves falling in love with MC like... still my poor heart.💕💕💕💕

I like the Brenda take because I feel like it makes Brenda more of a 3 dimensional character. Often we have friends like that who would ship us with someone regardless of how we feel about said love interest and having MC being able to feel some type of frustration with Brenda will be a good thing.

The most feedback I get about Brenda is that... why is she always telling Barlow everything about my MC like... Girl!!! Stop telling Barlow my business!!! 🤣

But yeah... the story is getting at the point where ROs and hookups will start to be aware of each other... because Lemon is a small town!!!! and, also the plot with the neighbor will thicken... so excited to write the next few chapters. 💕

[grapenehifics]

Chapter 51

(Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40473339/chapters/110328021)

Plot! Plot! We've got plot over here!

For anyone following along with the timeline - this is the same semester! Padme is pregnant, and she's STILL Anakin's professor! They only slept together for the first time a month or two ago! It is, in fact, wildly fast.

Obviously, anyone is welcome to interpret Anakin/Padme, and Revenge of the Sith, however they want to. But from the moment I saw it opening night, and every time since, I have consistently interpreted the "Anakin, I'm pregnant" scene as Anakin being *wildly* out of his depths, deer-in-the-headlights, trying not to panic and only barely succeeding. This is, in fact, the perfect time to panic. It complicates *everything*, especially the whole 'secret relationship' thing.

And, if Clone Wars showed us anything, it's that sure, on paper, Anakin and Padme have been married for three years. (They also got married after dating for like a week, but still.) But they were apart WAY more often during those three years than they were together. They, still, do not actually know each other particularly well. So, I wanted to touch on all of those emotions, even if I'm not strictly following the details.

They weren't going to do it - the twins are on their way, even if they don't know they're twins yet - but it was important to me that they have a frank and honest discussion about abortion.

Also, this conversation would have - and should have - gone much, much differently if Anakin were the least bit aware that his friends were struggling to conceive. He doesn't, so he just blurts out that Padme got pregnant on accident, but he's talking to Satine and Obi-Wan, for whom that will literally never happen.

(With that said though, something like 1 in 10 pregnancies are accidental.)

Never-do-anything-by-halves Anakin started off a conversation with 'do we want to have this baby' and ended up at, 'yes, AND let's plan a wedding at the same time!'

It's a tiny little thing, but Anakin mentioned learning to make enchiladas back in chapter 36, but now that he's moved out, here in chapter 51, Satine and Obi-Wan are reduced to making frozen enchiladas in the oven.

They're at different levels/capabilities of being able to express this emotion, but I imagine both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are feeling abandoned now that Anakin has a new romantic relationship. But neither of them are in a romantic relationship with Anakin, so it feels weird to complain about it. You can't *really* turn to a grown adult man and say, "I don't want you to date and/or marry anyone. Please be single forever." (Obi-Wan tried, when they were teenagers, but he had swimming as an excuse. What would he use now?) And at this stage, Obi-Wan is very far from being ready to confront the fact that his reason would actually be, "please date me instead." So he's just going to continue on, being supportive while Anakin continues being oblivious.

Also! Anakin is taking all his cues from Obi-Wan anyway. He thinks marrying a woman is the right thing to do entirely because Obi-Wan married a woman, and Anakin has decided his life will turn out better if he does whatever Obi-Wan does. So now Obi-Wan has that to contend with, too.

But, the other thing I wanted to highlight was, at the same time as Ahsoka is struggling to deal with her feelings about having to share Anakin with another woman, the situation is also bringing her closer to Obi-Wan and Satine, who are stepping up even more as second parents than they had been before.

[missmeinyourbones]

can i have some general hcs for connie, jean, and eren? :-)

eren

mf is always cracking his knuckles. its his nervous habit he just subconsciously does it whenever he needs to distract himself or keep his hands busy. when you guys hold hands, he will sometimes crack urs as a little surprise and then laugh when you get mad and tell him you don’t want big knuckles

reads mystery novels because he likes to try and solve the mystery before the end. he sees it as a competition between him and the literal author of the book??? he LOVES a good plot twist but gets annoyed when he didn’t guess it lol. gets mad when the characters behave out of character ("baby you will never believe what connell just did. HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT???!!!") please imagine him with a kindle and reading glasses LMFAO

burns everything he makes. if it has to be heated up or cooked? its getting burnt. whether its the toaster, grill, stove, oven, it literally doesn’t matter. its coming out crispy. i hope you like burnt chicken <3

he always pulls ur chair out for u ;(((( even if ur at home and about to sit at the kitchen table to eat a snack he’s like WAIT and pulls it out so you can sit, then he shimmies it closer to the table ;((( also always opens the car door for you. makes you sit and wait while he gets out and walks around the car to your side lol

he loves candles so one is always lit in ur apartment. he really likes vanilla but also just neutral smells in general, like maybe lavender or pine. very picky about his actual candles though, like refuses to use a wax warmer, only uses three wick SOY candles, doesn’t blow out the flame until the whole layer has burned evenly. hes annoying 

connie

tells those stupid inappropriate jokes whenever he gets the chance. yes i’m talking about the deez nutz ones. he’s like hey babe have you seen my bofa? and ur like wtf are u talking about. he tells you "BOFA DEEZ NUTZ XD" and he sleeps on the couch that night

orders waffles every single time you guys go out to breakfast. he is a firm believer that they are better than pancakes because "the pockets hold the syrup and butter so perfectly" and "its the perfect ratio of crunchy and soft" (he’s dead wrong. pancakes for the win baby)

plays fortnite religiously. spends real life money on specific skins and emotes. the classic "where we droppin boys" while on ft with eren, jean, and armin. fights 9 year olds via microphone chat and accuses them of hacking when he loses to them

watches the bachelor/bachelorette a little too intensely. he loves making fun of the cheesy entrances and introductions they do. tries to guess the pecking order of the contestants. if you guys watch it together he makes it a game: "take a sip of ur wine every time he says "my future wife is in this room" lol or if a guy contestant does something shitty he’s like "amateur. i would never do that, especially if you were the bachelorette. would you give me a rose?" goodnight

loves laying down with his head in your lap. like its his go-to position whenever you are doing ANYTHING. watching a movie in bed? his head is in ur lap. ur reading a book on the couch? he makes himself very comfortable, asking you to slide over so he can sprawl out over your legs. if this mf could use your thighs as a pillow every night, he would

jean

doesn't let you pay for ANYTHING regarding dates and stuff >:( he thinks its gentlemanly and chivalrous (which it is) but as an annoying and stubborn s/o who believes relationships should be 50/50 you always try to pay every single time lmfao

cant watch a horror movie for the life of him. wants to be all tough and protect you but once you put one on and snuggle into the couch together you can feel his heart racing hehe. he jumps at all of the minor jump scares like lights flashing or music changes. the movie ends and he's like that wasn't even that bad babe but then you catch him checking to see if the door is locked and quickly scampering down the hall after turning off the lights LOL

SWIFTIE. swiftie swiftie big ol swiftie. yes this is me pushing my personal agenda. pretty mainstream but he LOVES her big hits like love story or shake it off. most definitely serenades you with lover at the top of his lungs. you educate him on her rerecordings and then one day you hear him and connie listening to red (taylor's version) and he's like "so she’s rerecording all of her old albums so she can own them herself" feminist king

prefers to use vaseline instead of chapstick. definitely believes in that conspiracy where there are tiny shards of glass in chapstick so they actually make your lips more dry and it forces you to buy more. he heard that and was like” baby what brand of chapstick do you use? here we can share this vaseline it works better and doesn't taste like bubblegum flavored ass”

he runs very hot??? like is always sweating??? the windows in ur guys’ apartment are always open so a nice breeze can flow through. but he also leaves them open in the winter and ur like baby its snowing SHUT THE WINDOW. and hes like “no leave it open we can cuddle for warmth like the cavemen did” (?????)

[pjisskullourful]

. . ╰──╮𝕘𝕒𝕪 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙╭──╯ . . 

BABY BOWIE & BEYOND

🌈[rainbow family part7][complete series]

🥂Damiano × Ethan × reader

NSFW🔥swearing, parents taking special alone time to do grownup nasty dirty shit to eachother

° Damiano David/Ethan Torchio/female reader insert + their OC babies: Cosmo, Marsha, Sylvia& Bowie || Victoria de Angelis/René(oc gf) || Thomas Raggi/River(oc wife) + their OC baby: Leone

° you're getting your first date night with your boyfriends since giving birth 5 weeks ago, with your kids taken care of & a hotel room booked

wordcount:::  14,771

° commissioned by @ursulalurks & @fleurandfleur 💋 thanks for being so patient& encouraging& for letting me finally bring this chapter to life [☕commissions get priority, there are 3 fics still in cue- secure the next spot in my cue here!] 💋shoutout to @superchrystaldrug for being the beginning of this series 💋thanks to @bethanysnow for helping me come up with the date night plot

° [ITA]: cazzo: fuck - eccellente: excellent - avida: greedy

"We need the baby."

You looked up from the infant in your arms to find Damiano had come into the nursery. You had just finished burping Bowie after his feeding and you were anticipating that he would be asleep soon. 

"What d'ya mean?" You asked, not rushing to get up from the armchair and hand your son over.

"Me and Ethan- we need the baby 'cause we need all the boys together to teach them how to shave."

You laughed. "My five-week-old baby, you need to teach my five-week-old baby and his six-year-old brother how to shave?"

He smiled, too delighted by this scenario to be stopped by your questions. "Exactly right. Ethan was about to start, and Moe was doing his thing where he has to ask a million questions, so we figured it'd be easier to just teach him. We're gonna put shaving cream on him and everything, but don't worry, we’re gonna keep the plastic covers on the razer and just go through the motions. Bowie's not sleeping, is he?"

"Not right now."

Damiano's smile grew even wider when he came over to stand beside the chair, looking down at Bowie with pure glee. "Hey baby Bowie, hey. You wanna spend time with daddies, don't ya? Yeah, I bet you do." He crouched down. "What's that? No, I'm sure Mama knows it's not 'cause you think she's boring or anything shady like that. But sometimes guy time is necessary and I know Mama understands that." He carried on this imagined conversation without looking at you, as if he would be doing this even if you weren't in the room. "Oh, you are completely correct- Mama understands that 'cause she is the smartest woman in the whole world.

"Wow, so perceptive. He's barely a month old, but nothin' gets past him, eh?" Damiano asked, turning to you and the glimmer in his eyes made you smile too.

You started to hand your son over into the safety of Damiano's arms. "You guys don't need to shave…"

"Uhm, yes we do. Do you really think that either myself or Ethan are gonna show up to this date not looking our best?"

He was taking it far too seriously, an unnecessary amount of effort for a scheduled date night between people who were raising four kids together.

It was to be your first night away from Bowie, an opportunity for the three of you to exist away from the responsibilities of parenthood. Victoria was going to be babysitting Bowie, while the older three kids would be taken care of by Thomas and River. River was due to have their first baby in six months and the couple were trying to get in as much practice as possible. They were taking Cosmo, Sylvia and Marsha to an arcade, getting to enjoy nothing but playtime.

You were going with your boyfriends to the Four Seasons, checking in to the executive suite for one night. No toys to trip over, no clothes to be washed, no homework to help with, no meals to prepare - a chance to just be three people in love.

You got up from the seat, following Damiano out of the room. Once in the hallway, you went in a different direction to him - heading to the twins bedroom while he left for the master bedroom. You found the little girls having a play in front of their dollhouse, sharing their plastic figures without any issues. They didn't notice you in the doorway, they were too consumed in their own world as they happily babbled to one another.

You left them to it, going to check how the adventure in shaving was unfolding. Through the master bedroom, you could hear so much activity coming from the ensuite. The door was open, allowing you to see into the room where Ethan and Damiano were standing shirtless at the vanity counter. They both had shaving cream covering their faces.

"You wanna put the cream on your face for about five minutes before you start to shave…" Damiano said and once you were close enough you could see that he was talking to Cosmo, who was seated on the counter, his back to the mirror. His face was white with shaving cream just as his fathers were.

"Maybe longer, if you find a filter that you wanna spend a couple of hours goofing around with- eh, Papa?" Ethan teased.

You leant against the archway, seeing where Bowie was strapped into his car seat, propped up on the shut toilet seat. His eyes were open and jumping all over the room, entertained for the moment.

You didn't want to intrude, you could tell that your boyfriends were getting lost in their own world, sharing the banter and teases that they never tired of. Now Cosmo was being included into their jokes, with a spot already set for Bowie. You backed into the bedroom, keeping out of their way. You sat down on the bed, within earshot, not missing a single one of Cosmo's delighted laughs.

This was an aspect of your relationship that didn't need a tune-up, that didn't require special attention. This flow between the three of you never faded, never wavered no matter how much time passed between scheduled special 'parents time'.

There were times when it seemed your family couldn’t fit anywhere. There wasn't any representation you could show to your kids. People still didn't understand the word throuple - it always had to be followed with an explanation. You had yet to come across any official forms (from the hospital or information that went to the government, amongst other important paperwork) that allowed you to list more than one partner. Even at theme parks, a family deal only included two adults.

Questions dogged your every footstep and there were so many reminders that this wasn't the norm.

But when it was the three of you taking care of your kids, and each other - there weren't any questions. You fit perfectly with your two boyfriends and they fit perfectly with your children, allowing you to take a backseat. Everything ran according to its own flow and you didn't even have to try.

"Mama, Mama!" Cosmo was shouting as he came running into the bedroom, his face clean. "Papa shaved my moustache, look…"

He jumped up onto the bed, beaming as he shuffled toward you. You were thankful (but not surprised) to see there wasn't anything different on his angelic face. The bottom half looked slightly pink, clearly just rubbed clean.

You moved in, putting your hands on his cheeks as you squinted carefully at his upper-lip. "Hang on, did they- look that way for me, Mr Moe." He turned his face toward the light, already beginning to giggle in his anticipation. "Oh, I thought I saw a hair, but I was wrong, that moustache is totally gone."

Damiano's head poked out from the bathroom. "Don't you mean his Moe-stache?"

"You gotta come back Moe- you're not done 'til the aftershave is on." Ethan urged.

"Oh, right." Cosmo rushed back to join his awaiting dads. 

They were still messing about with the aftershave when the doorbell rang. You had barely gotten to your feet, when you began to hear Marsha's repeated chants that she would answer the door. Your daughter moved much faster than you, rushing her way down the staircase.

"Aunty Vic."

"What's good, babygirl?" Victoria's chipper voice responded, quickly followed by the sounds of their hands clapping together.

By the time that you arrived to the entryway, the bassist was just wrapping up the secret handshake she shared with Marsha (Victoria had developed a unique handshake for each of your children - something that wasn't allowed to be performed by either yourself or your boyfriends, they belonged solely to Victoria).

"Hey Miss Thing, is all your stuff packed?" You asked, laying your hand atop Marsha's head of dark hair. 

You noticed your daughter's eyes grow wide and she smiled without showing any teeth. "Um, yeah, I think so…"

You twirled the end of her plait around your finger. "You think? Would you like to go and check for me, because your aunt and uncle are gonna be here very soon."

"Yes, Mama." She said, beginning to leave with her shoulders slumped forward.

Victoria clapped her hands together, looking at you with an eager smile. "Where's my baby?"

"Upstairs, they're having male bonding time, teaching the boys to shave." You said.

"The six-year-old and the five-week-old, that's who they're teaching to shave?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, you'll still get Bowie in one piece, I promise." You said. "Come on, we've got ice tea in the fridge."

You sat down with her at the kitchen counter, alongside the fridge, which was covered in art from your three eldest children. She didn't seem entirely settled, spending a lot of time twirling her rings around on her fingers.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." You said. "How's things, how's René?"

"Um…" She glanced up at the roof, as if the answer to this question about her girlfriend was written up there.

"Oh, shit. Is it that bad?"

"No, no, it's not bad, it's just…" She trailed off. "She's just very serious about us, and that's not even slightly what I'm used to. And I…" She sighed. "I think she's gonna propose."

Your heart swelled at the thought of seeing your friend get married, but you kept the excitement under wraps as much as possible. "Didn't you joke-propose to her on your fourth date?" 

You remembered Victoria calling you in a panic, terrified that she had come on too strong after getting carried away on a date to a trivia competition. René had impressed her by correctly answering a question about Addams Family Values. This had made Victoria certain that she had found the right person to date, despite René being younger than her. René had taken Victoria's comment for what it was, a joking over-exaggeration and they had been dating for the past two years.

"Yeah, but, like, actual marriage." She said, almost grimacing. "Do you know how many times people have told me that I'm not marriage material?"

You nodded, she had told you about more than a couple of her partners using this as an excuse to break up with her. "That doesn't make it true. You wanna get married, you wanna have a family, don't you?"

She had always been the friend who got attached to your children the quickest - practically experiencing adoration at first sight. Each time you had told her that you were pregnant, she had burst into happy tears. She wasn't shy about expressing how much she wanted a family, envisioning a very traditional life for herself.

"Yes, of course." She said. "But what if I'm not the right person for her? I should feel like I am the right one for her, shouldn't I? I should know for sure, there shouldn't be any doubts." She sighed, flicking her hair back from her face. "Does that sound right?"

You jabbed the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you thought this over. "Look, I don't really know if I'm the right person to give advice on this subject, 'cause I have literally zero experience."

"Right, you guys aren't getting married and everyone is in agreement on that?"

"Pretty much. Towards the start, Damiano would talk about rings from time-to-time." You said. "But there was just so much other stuff going on, it got lost in the shuffle and we never got our heads wrapped around the logistics of proposing to two people at once. But we were all okay with that, it was never this feeling of missing out on that essential relationship step.

"Time went on and the kids filled up all our time, it's kinda hard to plan something as big as a wedding when you're outnumbered by enthusiastic little babies all day, every day."

"Outnumbered?" She repeated, a sceptical smile on her face. "Bowie is less than two months old."

"You say that now, but he is just as much a handful as the other three, okay? He's in this phase now where if he falls asleep in your arms, he will stir and cry and fuss if you try to put him down. Scratch that, if you even think about putting him down."

She shrugged, still wearing that same smile. "A tiny, li'l bundle of love that just wants to cuddle and cuddle and cuddle until the end of time? I can certainly think of worse adversaries."

"We were talking about you…"

She sighed, putting her attention on her chipped nail polish. "I want it to be perfect, like when she's not stressed out about work, or like when the stupid bathroom isn't still being stupid remodelled because of the stupid issues with the stupid pipes. I want it to be this beautiful moment where all that matters is me and her and I don't wanna say the wrong thing, or be wearing something gross that's in our photos 'til the end of time."

Now you were smiling as you served her some more tea from the pitcher. "That sounds to me like you wanna marry her."

"Marriage, am I that grown up?"

"You were just talking about remodelling your bathroom." You said. "But listening to what you said- you wouldn't have put this much thought into something you didn't want, or didn't see yourself working towards. I can't speak to marriage, but let me try to bring up something comparable- kids, right? Big life change, a decision not to be taken lightly, I'd say. All three of us discussed that for years in advance, even if it was just in passing reference, like joking or whatever. Before we stopped using birth control, it was something we were seeing in our future.

"The way that you've been talking- it sounds to me like you've definitely pictured marriage, in a way that I haven't had in my head. I haven't watched scenes in TV shows of proposals and taken mental notes. I also don't have a Pinterest board of wedding ideas and inspiration."

Her eyes grew wide. "How did you know about my Pinterest board?"

"Call it an educated guess. I've known you for a long time, girl." You said. "The point is, you're definitely over-analysing this. I hate to break it to you, but that's what I'm getting. Just let the moment be, 'cause what you think is ruining a perfect moment, that's probably not on her radar 'cause she's already having a perfect moment. And all of these other little things are just insignificant specks of dust that you can't let distract you from what you really and truly want, which is spending the rest of your life with this woman who makes you happier than I've ever known you to be."

"So I should just say yes?"

"I think you'll regret it if you don't, far more than how you'd regret wearing the wrong shirt that day." You said. "Besides, all of this is hypothetical, we don't even know if she's actually planning it."

"Oh, I know that she's planning it."

"Okay, so she's planning it and whenever it happens just go with it." You said, beginning to hear footsteps on the stairs.

"Can we just keep this between us?" She asked in a whisper. "I don't need everyone to be looking at us, waiting and expecting, that's even more pressure, you know?"

"Consider my lips sealed." You said. "Moe does this thing now where it's a zipper, then a padlock over the lips and he locks it with the key, then the key gets thrown over his shoulder. Do you want me to do that extra stuff?"

"I'd like to think that isn't necessary. But if you need that much help keeping a secret, then by all means."

"Here he comes, the man of the hour, every hour." Damiano announced his arrival into the room, an awake Bowie bundled up in his arms. You melted at the sight of your bright-eyed son, wanting to steal him back for yourself.

"Goddamnit Damiano, do you ever wear a shirt, literally ever?" She asked.

He stopped walking, narrowing his eyes at her and holding the baby closer to his body. "Don't talk to me or my son ever again."

"No, no, gimme the baby." She quickly got up from the stool, rushing toward him with her arms extended out in front of her. He backed away, shaking his head while Bowie obliviously gurgled.

You walked straight past them, heading for the stairs. You could hear raised voices, so much activity awaiting you, the picture becoming clearer before you saw the scene with your own two eyes.

"I'm unpack- I'm, I'm- I'm gon-na unpack-" Marsha's words were stalled by shaky gasps for air. "Unpack-packing all of ee-it…"

"No, you're not, Marshie honey, you're not unpacking." Ethan's voice was perfectly soothing, calmly in control against the child's rush of emotions.

"Yes I am." Her voice was so much louder than his.

You were entirely unsurprised to find she was both red-faced and teary-eyed, standing next to her little suitcase, which had begun to spill. In front of her was Ethan, crouched down with Cosmo hanging off of his back.

"Please don't- honey, don't throw your jumper…" His request was ignored, the fuzzy sweater hurled across the room to land on the ground.

"I'm not going!" She declared.

"But your aunt and uncle are really gonna miss you if you don’t go.” Ethan was still trying to reason with your upset child. “They’ve been planning this, they’ve been getting it ready for you guys to have so much fun.”

“Don’ wan’ah! I wan’ stay with Dada.”

Cosmo made his approach. “You gotta come with us, know why?”

She folded her arms over her front, her face full of storm clouds as she looked at him. “Why?”

“We can win something for Dada.” He said, seeming to get her on his side slightly. “Yeah, they’ve got these games like basketball and crazy robot claws tryin’a’ grab stuff and there’s bowling. And you can win so much and you can get something really, really cool for Dada- like a, a new thing to hang from the keys, or a puppy toy for their bed, or some candy…”

“Not a puppy. Dada likes unicorns.” She corrected. “Will there be unicorns?”

“There’s gotta be.” Ethan said. “But if there isn’t, I will love no matter what you win for me.”

You stepped into the room. “You could win one of those puppies for me. Or if they have stuffed kitty toys, I’m sure Papa would really appreciate getting a kitty to cuddle with at night.”

She was still pink in the face, but her cheeks had dried. “What if I’m not good at the games?”

“What? Get outta here, you’re gonna win ‘em all.” Ethan said. “But you’re not gonna know, unless you go. Right?” He stood up. “Get your bag packed up again, please.”

“Is Dada’s bag totally packed?” You asked.

He came over to your side, sliding his hand into yours. “Yes. Is yours?”

You hesitated. “I have to check that.”

“Let’s go.” He said.

The two of you were able to leave the room, Marsha didn’t cry out in protest. She didn’t whine about needing help as you and Ethan headed for the master bedroom.

“Did you see that?” He asked in a hushed voice. “Did you see our boy totally diffuse that bomb?”

You smiled, turning to face him once you had crossed the threshold into your room. “He’s a natural, a total pro at keeping calm under pressure.” You slipped your arms around his neck, stepping in closer. “It’s the Torchio in him.”

He allowed you one kiss before levelling a serious look at you. “Have you really not finished packing? We’re leaving in a couple of hours, babe.”

“It’s not that bad. I’m, like, ninety percent done. It’s just the dress to wear tonight that I’m stuck on.”

“Well, what’s the issue? Lemme help.”

All of the suitcases were lined up by the doorframe, standing upright, with the exception of yours. It was the only one yet to be zipped shut. You picked up the two garment bags that had been placed atop the suitcase. He sat down on the bed, watching you as you started to open the bags up.

You considered this a very understated way of getting his opinion on what you should wear. But you simply didn’t have the energy to give him a small-scale fashion show as had been the norm during those easy, pre-parenthood days. You weren’t wearing the correct lingerie to make either dress look great.

You showed him the burgundy, velvet, floor-length gown first. “Option a.”

He sat up a bit straighter. “I love that dress, you look really lovely in it.”

You held the coat-hanger at arm’s length. “I love it too. But it’s got the open back, so I can’t wear a bra, and I don’t wanna leak all over it if there’s another baby in the restaurant that won’t stop crying. Or if they start playing more than one David Bowie song. Or if I just get too emotional, or whatever.”

“Okay. So what about option b?” He asked. “Does that have less risks?”

You ditched the velvet dress, freeing up both hands to present the other dress to him. “No, no risks. It’s the McQueen, which I’ve already worn and everything, so…”

He gasped when his eyes landed on the black leather. “The McQueen. Why were you questioning this decision? It’s the perfect dress and you were so excited when you got it.”

The strapless, asymmetrical dress had been the ideal garment to wear when attending the runway show with your boyfriends at the start of the month. The three of you had found outfits that complimented one another’s aesthetics easily. You had felt fierce all night long. You couldn’t recall the last time the three of you had taken so many photos together without any of the kids present.

But that hadn’t been a date night. You were there to see the Alexander McQueen collection with the members of Måneskin, who understood the importance of being seen at the right places.

Although you had had fun that night, you were certain that this would be a more enjoyable outing - largely due to the lack of paparazzi cameras, and interfering publicists.

“You guys have already seen me wearing it, like, two weeks ago.” You said. “Wearing it again so soon? That doesn’t seem very exciting.”

“The person wearing the dress, that’s the exciting part. You looked amazing in that dress, I’m still not totally convinced that they didn’t make it specifically for you. And, frankly, I didn’t get to see enough of you in that dress.”

You were smiling as you zipped the bag shut. “Alright, I’ll wear it.”

“Besides, it’s not like I’ve gone out and bought a whole new outfit. We’ll be outfit-repeaters together, who cares?” He said.

“What are you gonna wear?” You asked as you started to pack the dress into your suitcase.

The look on his face suddenly changed and he flicked his hair off of one shoulder. “Um, it’s a date, I have to be able to give you at least one surprise. You’ll just have to wait until the big reveal…”

— — —

As the time of the dinner reservations got closer, you found yourself sparing no thoughts of what either of your boyfriends might be wearing. Their outfits held no significance because all of your attention was on the zipper of your dress. The structured garment didn’t have much give, the corseting under the bust remained perfectly rigid through all of your attempts to manipulate it. You gritted your teeth, silently sending up prayers for stretch.

You could feel your body heating up as your frustration bubbled to the surface. Beneath the leather skirt, your thighs were pressed together. With your hand at the small of your back, you struggled with the zipper, your fingers slipping and the struggle seemed endless.

This wasn’t anything like when you had first worn the dress. You had needed help from your boyfriends, but that was due to your lack of access to the tab. Once Damiano had gotten his hands on it, the zipper glided up in one gesture - none of the stalling you were currently faced with.

You had gotten the zipper over your ass, but it wouldn’t reach higher. Your belly was the issue. You could feel stress-induced sweat beading up on your forehead, threatening the makeup that you had applied.

“Cazzo.” You let out the breath you had been holding as you attempted to suck your gut in. You dropped your hands from the dress, wanting to ball them into fists and press them to your eyes, to force back the tears that were pricking. But the makeup had to be maintained.

You heard a knock on the door and now a new emotion jumped in with the others.

Humiliation. Your shoulders slumped forward and you were unwilling to turn to face whoever had come to the bedroom door.

“I know we’ve gotta go soon, I’m- I’m trying- trying to…”

“That’s okay, we’ve still got time. I wasn’t coming in here to bug you about that.” It was Ethan. “I wanted to get your opinion on what colour eyeliner I should wear, I’ve got it narrowed down to three…” You slowly started to turn around, holding the dress up with your arm across your chest. “Did you need help with your dress?”

“Yeah, but-...” You trailed off, filled with warmth at the sight of him in his suit. “Oh, you look so damn good.”

He smiled sweetly, placing his hand under his chin. “This old thing?”

You had seen him in the two-piece suit before - it was black in colour with a filigree pattern in a slightly lighter colour, the subtle grey stitching sometimes going overlooked.

You couldn’t recall the occasion he had worn this for previously. You were so appreciative of his current appearance because it was just for you and Damiano. Ethan hadn’t been dressed by a stylist, nor was he dressing to fit the dress code of any kind of event - this was a side that was just for his partners. It wasn’t about looking good for any cameras, he wanted to look good for you.

But you couldn’t return the favour, instead you were standing before him in a dress that no longer fit.

“Spin around and I’ll zip you up.”

You sighed. “I don’t think it’s gonna…”

“We’ll figure it out.” He said as he approached. “All of the impractical stuff you’ve helped us get into over the years. I’m sure I can handle this.”

He handed the three sticks of makeup for you to hold and put his hands to the back of your dress, trying to pull the separated panels together.

“I really like your makeup.” He said, bringing a fleeting smile to your face.

“I was worried it was overkill.” You said of the red eyeshadow that you had blended out beyond the space of your eyelid, and then some. “I’m not used to having so much time to do my makeup uninterrupted, so I kinda just kept going, and adding whenever I checked and saw that there was still time.”

“It’s great. Those little hearts are cute.” He said and you were aware of how the zipper didn’t seem to be moving. “I didn’t realise you had a stamper for that.”

“No, I did them freehand.”

He paused and you felt the tension in your dress release somewhat. “You drew those on? Lemme see…” You turned your head and he carefully inspected what had been applied. “Those are flawless, like ridiculously precise. Did I just forget how great at makeup you are?”

“I guess so.”

He kissed you on the cheek. “Now, I don’t want you to get upset, or anything…” You bit your lip and cast your eyes down. “But I can’t get this zipper to move…” It was the defeat you had been expecting, but that didn’t make the blow any less devastating. “I’m sure we can find a way to get it to stop jamming. Like, with some soap- it’s a hotel, there’s gotta be a bar of soap in the bathroom. We’ll rub the soap over the teeth and that should get-”

“It’s not…” You squirmed away from him and started to push the dress down. “It’s not the zipper, or the dress, it’s me.” You had freed your legs, the leather pooled at your feet. “I don’t fit the dress anymore.”

“Did you bring another option?” He asked gently.

You stepped away from the dress, leaving it on the floor, no longer caring that it was a designer garment that should be handled with care. You walked over to the bed. “No. I was too wrapped up in that dress. It was supposed to fit. How could I have gained weight? I just gave birth, I should be going down dress sizes, not up.”

“You’re probably just a bit bloated.” He said, crouching down in front of where you sat.

“No, it’s me. It’s ‘cause I haven’t been exercising since Bowie, I’ve just been sitting and now I’ve gained weight.”

He stroked your knee. “We’ll figure something out. How about you put back on what you were wearing before?”

You scoffed sarcastically. “Jeans- jeans and a t-shirt? I’m gonna wear jeans and a t-shirt, while you look like this?”

“What about if I get Damiano’s jacket, hm? You can wear his fancy blazer, buttoned up, that’ll cover down over your ass so that just your legs are out. That’s a look, that’s a really sexy look. Don’t you think? That’s gonna look great.”

With your arms wrapped around your exposed belly, you leaned forward. “No, I don’t think, I don’t…” Your breath felt short and you didn’t think it would be possible to will the tears away. “I feel like shit, I’m just gonna- I’m just gonna start crying and I just-... I’m sorry, I’ve fucked the whole night and…”

“You haven’t, you haven’t fucked anything.” He sat up higher to kiss you on the top of the head. “Please don’t cry. You just keep that makeup intact and I will take care of this. I am gonna handle this.”

He left the room and you brought your legs up, hugging them to your chest. The tears started to drip free as you felt consumed by shame. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to see a single inch of your body.

You lost track of time, getting lost in the spiral of thoughts. You felt how your stomach had developed into rolls, pushed against one another. Your thighs felt on the verge of being too large to hold in your arms.

It made you want to hide. You thought about burying yourself under the hotel bed sheets. But that didn’t seem like enough, you needed distance from the threat of being seen. You needed to run away, running would potentially burn off some fat. But then you would still have stretch marks, those tiger stripes that marked these grand changes from the thin woman who would always show off her body, no matter the occasion.

This was not the body that your boyfriends had fallen in love with.

You had ditched your fake eyelashes and were making mental plans to grab the makeup wipes, until you were interrupted by Ethan’s return.

Crestfallen, you found that he had enough time to change his appearance. He had pulled his straightened hair up into a messy bun. Instead of deciding on what colour eyeliner to wear, he had pulled the plug on applying any more makeup. His fancy suit was gone, now he wore one of the fuzzy bathrobes provided by the hotel.

“Ethan…” Everything that the three of you (or, to count in the generosity of your friends, the total could be raised to the six of you) had been planning and looking forward to was ruined. This was all due to your inability to try on a dress, realising that brought fresh tears to wet your cheeks.

“The dress code has changed for tonight, because the location has changed.” He said.

“No, that’s not what we came here for.”

“We came here for a date night and that’s what we’re gonna have. It doesn’t matter where we have it. As long as it’s you and him and me and no distractions, then it’s a date.” He had placed himself on the ground before you again. “It’s a date ‘cause we say it is. We’ve always adapted situations to suit us. So this isn’t the typical, expected date- who cares?”

You blinked through the tears to look at him. “Do you promise that you and Dami don’t mind?”

“Promise. Damiano is just happy to have a night off cooking duties.”

“But what am I gonna wear?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable in. What did you bring to wear to bed? Or were you feeling a little slutty and you planned to sleep naked?” He asked.

“I packed something.”

“Fabulous.” He said, taking this opportunity to quickly kiss you. “Well pop that on and I’ll meet you out in the other room, whenever you’re ready. But I should probably get back out there before Damiano decides that me telling him to order some starters means he should order everything on the room service menu.”

You emerged from the bedroom in your satin nightgown - a recent purchase, it hadn’t been puked on by your infant son yet. It was leopard print with a black lace trim and it showed more skin than your Alexander McQueen dress would have.

The nightie clung to your body without the structure or the support that the dress had built into its construction. You found yourself readjusting the fabric as you walked, displeased with how it sat against the curve of your tummy. Your midsection looked very large to you.

“You don’t think that’s too many orders of the cheese and garlic scrolls?” You heard Ethan asking as you approached the main room of the hotel suite.

“Did you really just say that? There is literally no such thing as too many cheese and garlic scrolls, I can’t believe-... God, I wish we were married, solely so that I could divorce you for saying something so dumb.” Damiano said.

“Shit, sorry. Order them all, then.”

You had one arm resting over your belly, holding onto your hip as you still craved to hide those parts that could only be classed as undesirable. You forgot about squeezing so tight, you stopped thinking about the visible tear streaks through your makeup when your eyes landed on Damiano. Sitting on the ground next to the coffee table, he was completely naked and it made you want to laugh.

His face lit up at the sight of you, giving up on his bickering with Ethan. “Hey sweet thing.”

“You’re- why are-...” You were smiling as you moved closer to your boyfriends. “One of these days I’m not gonna be surprised by your nudity.”

“What?” He tried looking innocent. “He said that we were going informal, we’re making the point that it doesn’t matter what the clothes are- we love each other no matter how we’re dressed, or undressed.”

“In my defence, I didn’t tell him to get naked.” Ethan said.

“No one ever tells him to get naked.”

Damiano beckoned you over. “You gotta help us work through this room service menu. There’s literally a million things to choose from.”

“Literally?” Ethan asked.

Damiano paused and flipped the menu over, his eyes scanning down the text that covered the page. “Actually, it’s a million and one.”

You lowered yourself down onto the carpet next to your naked boyfriend, where he had a nice set up on the coffee table. They had taken advantage of the generous welcome basket provided by the hotel - the kind of extras that had a way of appearing when your boyfriends names were mentioned. There was a candle already burning, filling the suite with the scent of berries. Three wine glasses were laid out, with some white wine in two of them.

He rested a hand on your thigh as you started to read over the menu. You looked down the options, finding that you were having the same though no matter what you read.

Carbs. You weren’t looking forward to any of the flavours that you saw. All that you could think about were the kilograms each dish could add to the different parts of your body - curves that would linger long after the plates were cleared.

“What’s the hold up, too many great options?” Damiano asked.

You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “I guess so, I just don’t…” You exhaled heavily, dropping the menu onto the tabletop. “I can’t figure out what I want, so…”

He immediately grabbed the menu, pulling it closer and he knew exactly where to point. “Did you miss the halloumi fries? Genuinely, you didn’t see them, right?”

“Oh…” You twirled some of your hair around your finger. “I doubt they’d be able to make them half as good as yours. You guys just get whatever you want and I’ll see what looks good when it’s in front of me.”

Between the two of them and their appetites, your input wasn’t necessary. As your boyfriends discussed the best options, you could go quiet, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It had been so long since you had consumed any alcohol - but with a night free from breastfeeding in front of you, you were looking forward to the buzz that you could get from a drink or two. Maybe the voice of self-hatred would be quieter, easier to ignore once you’d had some wine.

When Ethan went over to the phone, the order sounded lengthy - each time he paused to take a breath, you thought the order was complete. But then he kept saying more items.

“Should we make a toast?” Ethan asked once he was back on the sofa, wine glass in hand.

Damiano immediately raised his glass into the air. “Definitely. What are we toasting to?”

You extended your glass. “Here’s to Mama getting to enjoy some wine.”

“Here’s to swearing as much as we fucking want and as fucking loudly as we want.” Ethan said.

“Fuck yeah!” You celebrated with a shout.

“Here’s to no sticky hands and no grabby hands on me for the whole night.” Damiano contributed.

“Well there goes my plans for the rest of the night.” Ethan said with a dramatic eye roll.

“Mine too. I mean, your dick is literally right there. It’s not making eye contact with me, not yet. But the night is still young.” You said.

“But for real…” Damiano said, interrupting you before you could take your first sip. “Here’s to us, spending quality time together. But any time that I get to spend with each of you is quality because you’re the most wonderful people in the world, there’s no competition, no matter how many other people I meet.” He looked at you. “I love you, to the moon and back.” He looked at Ethan next. “And I love you, to the moon and back. To us.”

“To us.”

“To us.” You echoed, but instead of drinking, you swooped in and stole a kiss from Damiano. “That was really sweet, I love you too.”

“It’s the truth and I’ll say it as often as you need to hear it.” He covered your cheek in kisses. “Where’s your phone, babygirl? You don’t have any pockets hiding up in that li’l slip, do ya?”

“No, I left it in the bedroom.”

“And yours, Edgar?”

Ethan pointed in the direction of the dining table. “On the table. I’m pretty sure it’s on silent.”

“Pretty sure? I do not like the sound of that.” Damiano said and he got up, walking away. “No distractions tonight, none!”

He picked the device up, pressing a few times on the screen before trading this for another item. Standing in the area behind Ethan’s back, Damiano went unnoticed by the other man as he grabbed a cloth napkin from the table. Now was the time to start drinking your wine, in the interest of maintaining your poker face.

Damiano halved the napkin, folding it into a triangle. He was grinning as he snuck up on Ethan. Before he could react, or resist in any way, Damiano had flicked the napkin over Ethan’s head. He had resigned himself to his fate, an apathetic look on his face as Damiano lined the napkin up under his chin.

At the base of Ethan’s neck, Damiano tied two of the corners together, affixing the bib as he would with your children. The messiest eater of the three of you, Ethan was the only one subjected to this teasing.

“Time for Dada’s bib.” Damiano said through giggles.

“Eccellente, because it would be such a shame to spill food on my shirt- the shirt that I’m not wearing.” Ethan said.

Damiano was still grinning as he propped his elbows up on the back of the couch - the perfect juxtaposition to Ethan’s deadpan expression. “You’re welcome, we can’t have you making a mess on that lovely designer robe you’re wearing. Or worse yet, on your body…” Ethan’s unimpressed facade dropped somewhat when Damiano put his hand under the napkin, reaching down the opened front of the dressing gown.

“It’d be all hands on deck to get you clean again.” You said. “Or, all tongues on deck, whatever it takes.”

“Are you saying deck or dick?” Damiano asked.

“All hands on deck, you’ve never heard that-?”

You were interrupted by a polite knocking on the door - there was no discussion, Ethan was the only one in a suitable state to talk with hotel staff. Damiano came over to sit with you again.

“I do know that expression, but I wanted to clarify. But either way, I’m in.” He said. You were aware of his eyes on you as you had some wine. “It’s a major loss for everyone else in the restaurant, to miss out on seeing how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Dami, stop. You don’t have to do all of that…”

He was gently stroking your hair, curling it behind your ear. He had leaned in and you could no longer see the expression on his face as he spoke directly into your ear. “I don’t have to do all of what? Are you saying that I don’t have to tell you all about how you’re the most stunning woman in the world?” His breath was warm on your ear, almost tickling. These sensations travelled down as his fingers curling your hair behind your ear transformed into stroking your skin, caressing under your lobe and onto your neck. “I’m gonna have to respectfully disagree with you, sweet thing.

“I have to tell you that, ‘cause you deserve to hear it. Especially right now when you look so sexy. And it is so sexy.” He said and you were willing to stop listening to that mournful voice in your head, especially while his delivery was so much more inviting. “Your hair is so soft and I’m a big fan of this colour, have I told you that? It’s so silky and it’s like when I’ve got my fingers in it, nothing in the world could go wrong. I don’t know if- does that make any sense?”

You leaned against him, his lips closer to your ear. “Mm-hmm, it does.”

“Your makeup, your skin was already glowing and then you paint on, adding this perfection.” He said and you shut your eyes so that you could concentrate on what he was saying, so you could concentrate on those quick seconds when his lips made contact with your skin - but it wasn’t to kiss, he still had so much to say.

“You’re a masterpiece, every single bit of you. And they should put you behind a velvet rope.”

“But if I was behind a velvet rope, you wouldn’t be able to touch- like how you were touching my thigh before.” You countered.

“You were enjoying that, were you?” He asked and you didn’t have to see his face to be able to tell that he was smiling - that was in his voice.

“Yes, you should put your hand on my thigh again.”

He laid the palm of his hand upon your bare skin and at the same time, he pressed a kiss against your neck. The corners of your mouth pulled up into a smile as heat rushed through your body, tingles felt beyond where he was presently making contact.

“It’s not that I don’t think this is a great idea, I definitely approve of the touching.” He said and when his teeth grazed at your earlobe, your heart leapt into your throat. “But I wanna do more than touch your thigh…”

“Really? Tell me…”

He sat forward, your eyes meeting. “I’d rather show you. Can I do that?”

You licked your lips as you nodded keenly. “Yes Daddy, you can.”

He grabbed your face, kissing you. Before you could melt into it, he was changing his position, his face moving down your front and you kept your eyes shut. You let the anticipation build, not paying any attention to the conversation being had between Ethan and the person delivering your dinner.

Damiano’s hands moved down your thighs as he leaned down. He kissed above your knee, his lips soft on your skin while his hand warmed your other leg. There wasn’t any rush to his movements, it wasn’t an urgency to take advantage of what would be a fleeting moment. There wasn’t any threat of interruption and you savoured this slow appreciation, relaxed to know that you wouldn’t hear any crying children for the duration of the night.

With your eyes shut, you could more easily block out any perceptions of your body. There wasn’t any size, nor were you transfixed by the scars, new or old. You experienced your body solely through his touches. Tuned so sharply into his movements, you couldn’t help but shiver as he stroked his fingers across the crease at the back of your knees in perfect synchronisation. You tilted your pelvis, feeling how the heat was developing into an ache deep inside of you.

Now his lips were on the inside of your thigh, moving up higher. He didn’t skip over any areas that he didn’t find desirable, nor did he stop from disgust.

The stop came from Ethan speaking, marking his return to the room. “With everything you ordered from the menu, I knew that you were hungry. But I didn’t realise you were ravenous enough to turn to cannibalising my girlfriend.” The smell of all the different dishes accompanied him, as he wheeled the room service cart over to where the two of you were sitting. But he didn’t start to lay the plates out upon the coffee table - he was too preoccupied by watching you to care about food.

Damiano laughed as he slightly raised his head. “I’m not trying to eat her. I just needed a moment to properly appreciate these thighs.” You took another sip of wine as he went on caressing your thighs. “Can you blame me? Look at these gorgeous legs and in this tiny dress, fuck.”

“Gorgeous legs, completely agree.” Ethan said. He had joined you on the ground, placing himself in close behind your back. “But there’s something else that this nightgown is letting me admire.” He placed his fingertips onto your bare shoulder and you turned to look at him. “And it’s these arms…” Lightly, his fingers moved down your arm. “These arms that have held all of my children and given them the comfort and care no one else ever could…” He kissed your shoulder as his fingers slid further down your arm. “These arms that have been my home, forever.”

He caressed his strong hand up-and-down the length of your arm. At the same time, he peppered your shoulder with more kisses in a way that made your thoughts race. You didn’t think that the giddy rush in your head could be blamed purely on the wine.

“It’s only my arms that you’re admiring, really?” You asked, his eyes fluttering open to meet your gaze. “There isn’t something else you’ve been looking at, admiring, thinking about? Only my arms?” You put your glass down so that you could reach back. “You haven’t been looking at or thinking about my hands?”

His answer was a breath that hitched, getting stuck in his throat when you placed your hand under his robe. Over his briefs, you lightly wrapped your fingers around where his shaft was starting to grow firmer. He pressed his face against your neck, letting out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, you know that I love your hands.” He said into your skin. “And I get so turned on thinking of all the amazing things you can do with them.”

“But there’s a part of this gorgeous body that this dress is hiding.” Damiano said. “Can I bring it out of hiding? It’s not that I don’t love this sexy little slip. But there’s so much more of your figure that I wanna properly appreciate.” His hands were already slipping under the hem and you snagged your bottom lip between your teeth. “Is it okay for me to take this off, darling?”

You nodded, despite the rush of nerves that threatened to interrupt the dominant hold that your arousal had. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” He said, bringing the bottom of the nightie up as he sat up straighter.

Your hand left Ethan’s developing boner so that you could raise your arms up. The satin briefly covered your face and you could feel how tender your swollen breasts were, inviting in some more feelings of nervousness.

Relief came when, once the nightie was removed, Damiano’s hands avoided your chest. He grabbed your waist instead, and he was gently moving you closer to him - stopping you from getting back to attending to Ethan.

“Can I get you to lay down on your stomach, or on your side? Whichever suits you.”

“You’re gonna make her lie on the ground?” Ethan asked before you could move.

“What, no good? You don’t have to- you can lay on the couch, or we could relocate to the bedroom…”

You shrugged, already beginning to lie down - there was something in this setup that was bringing back memories. Exciting memories of being beneath the two of them. “I’m not complaining.”

Before you could lie flat on the carpet, Ethan readjusted, coming in closer until he could guide your head to rest on his knee, as a stand-in for a pillow. His fingers moved through your hair while he watched Damiano’s movements. You weren’t so interested in what your other boyfriend was preparing to do to you.

For the moment you were fixated on what was directly in front of your face - the pink fabric of Ethan’s underwear stretched by his boner.

Damiano’s hands returned to your legs, but this time they were preceded by his lips. Beginning at your ankles, he kissed a path up your limbs, his firm hands following in the wake of each kiss.

Again, you found that he was taking his time to savour, it wasn’t a race to get to your cunt. The kisses seemed to be lasting longer as he got higher on your legs, pecks from his lips developing into open-mouthed kisses, wherein you felt swipes from his tongue.

Feeling his teeth graze at the skin on the backs of your thighs made you grin. You grabbed at Ethan’s thigh, acknowledging to yourself that you were leaving the state of calm before a hectic storm.

“Right here.” Damiano said, using a finger to follow the natural curve of the bottom of an ass cheek. He was highlighting that area where your thigh ended and your butt began, with Ethan leaning forward to gain a better view. “I love this little crease right here.” Damiano’s breath was hot on your body as he continued to marvel at this area, which sat beyond the coverage of your underwear. “I love it when you’re walking around naked after a shower, I love when you’re wearing your bathing suit and I can see it, this literally cheeky crease.” You were grinning as this anticipation mounted. “Or when you’re wearing tight jeans and I can see it when I’m walking behind you. Sometimes I walk slowly for no other reason than to check out this booty.

“There is just something about this spot that just gets me so damn- it makes me wanna…” He didn’t have any adequate words left to say, this sentence could only be completed with an action.

And that action was to bite the fleshy area where butt met your thigh.

You let out a surprised squeal before dissolving into giggles as he continued to nibble at you. You squirmed as you felt your muscles growing tighter.

“Wow, I haven’t been able to make you giggle like that in ages.” He said.

“Yeah. You should keep going.” You said.

“Oh, should I?” He asked, intrigued. “Is that what you want, avida? You want some more of my little love bites on your legs?” He complied, wet and sharp kisses covering the backs of your thighs. “What about this booty, should I nibble on this gorgeous ass?”

“Yes, plea- ah!” You whimpered in response to feeling the pinch of his teeth on your butt cheek.

He experimented with different locations on your ass, each time only providing you with more pleasure until it was pumping through your veins, as hot as lava. All the while, blood was rushing to your cunt, completely dislodging any earlier trains of thought.

You couldn’t keep yourself from squirming as you felt the pull of him sucking your skin into his mouth, attempting to create hickeys. You felt some more pressure from how Ethan was stroking your hair, his fingertips had started to drag over your scalp. All of these sensations were combining in the most delightful way - allowing you to experience your body differently to what had become your typical day-to-day.

Opening your eyes, there was nowhere to look but Ethan’s dick. Over his underwear, you stroked your index finger along his shaft. His fingers started to clench, gripping your hair for some mild tugging. You followed his length up-and-down, listening as his breathing came in heavier.

“This underwear is kind of getting in my way.” Damiano said, his fingers playing over the cotton fabric. “And it looks pretty wet, is that comfortable for you? That can’t be comfortable, babygirl.”

“You’re right. It’s also totally unnecessary at this point, I’d say. I think there’s no reason for any of us to still have underwear on.” You said, beginning to sit up.

Ethan’s eyes met yours. “What about bibs? Is there a reason for me to keep this on?”

“That’s up to you.” You said as Damiano helped you make your panties disappear. “Do you think that you’re gonna need it?”

Ethan started to untie the knot that had been keeping the napkin in place. “If it’s a mistake to take it off, I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

Damiano wrapped his arms around your body, bringing your back to press against his front. He put his hands to your stomach, massaging you here. “Is it okay to fuck on the floor? Because if you would rather go into the-...”

“Oh, is that what we’re about to do? Are we gonna fuck?” You asked.

“Yes, please.” He cooed, nibbling on your earlobe a bit more. “I just don’t care about the food any longer. How could I, when I have this sublime body right in front of me, naked and so ready to be worshipped. Will you let me be a bit naughty and have dessert before eating even a single bite of dinner?”

“I think the food can wait.” You said, grinding your butt back against his stiff dick.

“Sound judgement.” Ethan said.

Damiano paused from working your neck over with his mouth. “Earlier you said that my cock wasn’t making eye-contact with you…” He pointed to your naked boyfriend sitting in front of both of you. “That cock is.”

You licked your lips as you drank in the sight of Ethan’s naked figure. “Yes, it is. I’m just worried- I’m not sure that my lipstick is transfer-proof.”

“Transfer…” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “I don’t care if it isn’t transfer-proof. If you wanna suck my cock, then you can, regardless of whether or not you get lipstick on it. I promise that I don’t mind some lipstick on my cock. In fact, I think that’d be pretty hot.”

You leaned forward. “Let me paint your gorgeous cock.”

He pushed his fingers through the front of your hair, holding his breath a little as your face got closer to his cock. “Look at what you do to me, what you do to both of us.”

Damiano’s cock was still pressing against your ass as he started to massage your lower back. “Baby, let us make you feel as good as you look.”

“Yes.” You said after wrapping your fingers around Ethan’s length. “Fuck me. Fuck me right here…” You placed your lips around the tip of his dick, giving him a single kiss here. “...right now.”

“Tell me how you want it.” Damiano said. “Tell me if I do something you don’t like.” His hips were pressing against you, his legs lined up with yours. “It’s all about you…”

This hadn’t been the point of this weekend. Your insecurities had derailed the original plan. This setup had been for a celebration, relaxation and fun like you used to have - no responsibilities, no issues.

Now there was a problem that needed to be solved. But you didn’t raise any complaints over the solution your boyfriends were pursuing. You anticipated that it would deliver fun results, even if it wasn’t exactly like the fun that you used to have.

You were swirling your tongue all over the leaking head of Ethan’s dick as you felt Damiano changing how he was leaning against you. He had one hand holding at your hip, the other was preoccupied by supporting his dick so that he could guide it towards your pussy. You felt the crown of his dick pressing at your wet entrance and you arched your back, pushing your ass into him all the more.

You placed your lips around Ethan’s head, holding him securely in your mouth as you made your move on Damiano, swallowing his shaft into your cunt. He put both hands on your hips now, squeezing as he tried to brace himself.

“Motherfuck- ah…” Ethan gasped as you used your hand on the base of his dick to guide more of his length into your mouth. His hand in your hair had become a clenched fist.

Before any other swears could leave his mouth, you heard the collision of lips as Damiano grabbed him for a kiss. More of your pussy was filled by him with him moving in to kiss Ethan harder and for longer.

The calm before the storm was well and truly gone, with your excitement manifesting in your walls spasming uncontrollably around Damiano. His whimpers were half-consumed by Ethan’s mouth as his arousal refused to let him back off, instead driving himself deeper into your sensitive cunt. HIs hips struck into your butt in a building tempo.

You attempted to match this pace in how your hand worked up-and-down Ethan’s dick, drawing more cum out of him, to land on your awaiting tongue. Any time that you lifted your tongue, to press the flat of it on his head, you felt his body react - beyond the twitches of his dick within the confines of your mouth. Increasingly powerful shudders overtook his muscular body, seemingly making it more difficult for him to hold still, to contain that primal need for release.

The way that he was pulling on your hair was unrelenting and you relished the stinging this brought to your scalp. You sensed that the duality inside of him had begun to sway to one side - the side that craved power and possessed a reckless lust. You sought to get him to lose control, sucking his cock harder as you desired his roughness.

You found yourself fantasising on (reminiscing on) a fuck that would leave marks.

Damiano groaned and the wet sounds of their kisses halted, allowing Ethan to murmur an apology. “What are you-... no, baby, bite me more.”

Above you, a series of passionate kisses were shared, while the space that you had between your boyfriends shrunk - something you didn’t fight against. Being this close to the two of them was heavenly, and any slightly awkward angles were overshadowed by the wonders of this proximity.

Instead of complaining at the threat of being squished - you relaxed your jaw, taking even more of Ethan into your mouth. You no longer needed to steady his shaft with your hand, allowing you to try the new approach of playing with his balls. You supported them in the palm of your hand while your fingers explored this hot skin. Ethan’s hips lifted and you heard a growl come from Damiano.

You bobbed your head, your wet lips dragging up-and-down Ethan’s length. He was writhing more than before, your cheeks were being stretched and your throat was poked at as you did your best to maintain consistency. You hollowed your cheeks around him as he put both hands to the back of your head, resting them here and giving your hair a reprieve from the pulling.

“Are you doing alright, honey?” Damiano asked, relocating his hands to the small of your back. “Can you give us a thumbs up, or down?” Without hesitation, you lifted your empty hand - your thumb sticking up to the ceiling. “Good girl, what a good girl, you’re the best girl. Do you think we tell her that often enough?”

“Mmn, fuck.” Ethan couldn’t provide much of a response as you swallowed down what was filling your mouth before it could dribble down your chin. His short fingernails scraped over your scalp, but he resisted from pulling your hair for a little longer.

Damiano took on a new position, allowing the pressure to ease from your back as he stopped leaning over you. He didn’t have to be kissing Ethan to have a direct impact on him, because with every rock from Damiano, your mouth plunged lower on Ethan’s dick - the three of you were in an endless cycle of pleasure. It was so natural and effortless to share this with them.

Damiano took full advantage of his altered angle, with it immediately leading to a quicker rhythm. His cock was slicked with your juices and he could glide into you. Your sensitive inner-walls were massaged with one thorough and deep jerk after another, until you were moaning around Ethan’s cock.

Your pussy was aching, your body pleading for that perfect moment of climax. There were no awkward angles left, now everything was smooth - your bodies in harmony. And there was only one place to go from here.

You swung your body into this pacing, not caring about over-exerting yourself. It didn’t matter that you were so out of breath, you couldn’t give up on this merciless rhythm. You met each of Damiano’s jolts from his hips, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled your ears and you could think of nothing else.

“Avida…” He panted. “Do you want-...” Choked back sobs and other gasps for air slowed his speech, all the while his thrusts remained consistent. “Should I pull out? We can make a nasty mess for our boy to clean up, if that’s…” You didn’t take Ethan out of your mouth, instead you employed your thumb to provide another answer. This time you pointed it directly to the ground. “Okay, I’ll come inside of you.

“You can have all of it.” You quit your thumbs-down gesture and reached behind yourself with this hand. You grabbed Damiano’s ass, intending to keep him from withdrawing. “Okay, you want all of it, you can have all of- oh, ah fuck…” His hips stuttered forward, plunging deeper into you as he got closer to that edge.

The angles were perfect and he didn’t have to ease off, he explored this depth until you were whining around Ethan’s dick. His hands guided your head, giving you some sense of grounding as Damiano picked up speed, clearly on the verge of coming undone.

With no reason to try and contain himself, Damiano surged to his climax. In his shouts (a variety of swears, incoherent noises and your name a few times), you lost yourself. You felt him painting your cunt with his lust, while the taste of Ethan coated the inside of your mouth.

Damiano remained inside of your tender cunt, slowing down in accordance with the clenching of your walls as you continued your climb to the peak. He grinded against your ass while a breathless Ethan couldn’t help rubbing the crown of his cock on the roof of your mouth. You applied your tongue to the underside of his shaft, beyond caring about technique or rhythm as Damiano drove you to that realm of daunting pleasure.

With a couple more thrusts into just the right spot, you became totally overwhelmed. The orgasm dawned on you, playing itself out with some uncoordinated spasms. You lurched forward, your toes curling while your jaw fell slack. Ethan hit the back of your throat and eased off somewhat, but catching your breath was one of the many things not on your mind presently. You braced yourself with both hands on his thighs as you enjoyed the tingles radiating out through your body.

As you were floating, feeling complete and happy, you looked up. You could see that he wasn’t quite at the same level of bliss, instead his face was marked with an expression of desperation. You knew that he would never complain - his hands were gently moving through your hair, but his dick throbbed in your mouth.

He had a need and you knew it. He was on the verge of being ruined, during the course of trying to hold back and not overwhelm you, so much of his hair had fallen loose from the bun. The long strands framed his sweaty face and you knew what it would take without needing to ask what he wanted.

You wanted to leave no part of him unsatisfied and you pushed down, ignoring the mess that was already making your chin feel sticky. Your lips drew down towards his base, sucking as you went.

His hold on your hair changed. “Babygirl, you don’t have to do-...” You had sensed he would say something like this, but you chose to ignore his chivalry. And the croak that came from him when his cock entered your throat told you this was the correct course of action. “Oh okay, you’re just gonna-” His hands had gripped into fists again. “Right into your throat-”

His ass lifted from the ground, giving into his desire for more as his hands kept you in place. You took more of him into your throat, feeling hot droplets beyond where his engorged tip currently rested.

“Fuck yes.” He started to drive his hips up, a languid rhythm that allowed your throat to adjust. “You feel so fuckin’ good, mmn…”

You felt Damiano’s hands on your back, stroking and providing support, rather than trying to influence. “Good girl, avida. You’re making him feel fuckin’ amazing, but I bet you want him to just fuck your face, don’t you?” You raised your thumb up in the affirmative as his fingertips ran along your spine. “That throat has missed fucking that cock, hasn’t it?” You lifted your other hand into the air, so that both of your thumbs could stick up. This made him chuckle a little.

Ethan was grinding into your face. “Holy fuckin’- nergh. Only take as much as you can, you don’t have to take the-... oh, God.” Your throat fluttered around him and he was arching his back even more. “Mmmn…”

Before Damiano spoke again, you heard kisses exchanged between them. “Let her have it. Our nasty girl, let her get fully fucking nasty tonight.”

Ethan moved quicker into you now, building an irresistible friction with each buck. Your throat had progressed to spasming, but you were determined to keep drinking him down, to enjoy more of his essence.

But his tip collided at the wrong angle and you sputtered, beginning to choke. Before it could develop into anything serious, you pulled away. It felt like your head was spinning as you quickly put an end to this exchange.

But that final squeeze from your throat had come at the right moment, enough to finish him off. As you sat up, he fell back, needing the couch to keep him upright. He moaned and whimpered out praise, all but collapsing in the face of his aftershocks.

You pressed your lips together, aiming to cough as quietly as possible. This somewhat satisfied the tickle in your throat, but you would need exterior help to soothe this irritation. You looked around yourself for a solution - your eyes briefly moving over where your boyfriends were cuddling, Ethan’s head resting on Damiano’s chest.

“Are you all good, honey?” He asked.

You nodded, coughing a couple more times as you reached for your wine glass. “Mm-hmm, I just wanted to see how well the choice of wine pairs with Ethan’s jizz.” They laughed as you took a sip, then another, making a show of swirling it around in your mouth. “Hm, nope.”

“Let me get you some water.” Damiano said, getting up.

Ethan sat forward, looking you over carefully. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all.” You said, extending your arm to him and he followed the cue to move in closer. “Quite the opposite, actually…” You wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “That was unbelievably fun for me.”

“Me too.” He said, a bashful smile on his face. “I would say we should fuck like that more often. But, uh, well, you know…”

“Hur’you go…” Damiano’s words were muffled and when you looked up, you discovered that the cause was a pastry held between his lips. He had finally started in on the cheese and garlic scrolls that he had been coveting.

“Thanks.” You said, accepting the glass of water from him.

Ethan had moved to grab a spinach puff from the cart of food. “Do you want one?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Ethan passed one of the puff pastries to you, then got to his feet so he could look over all of the dishes with renewed interest. You took your first bite, the new flavour dancing over your tastebuds, with your stomach grumbling impatiently at once, you had to concede that this meal was long overdue. Damiano sat down on the sofa, a plate of food in his hand.

You came back into your body as you ate the spinach puff, registering your limbs more-and-more with each bite. You reassessed and decided that the floor wasn’t a suitable place to sit. There were some other discomforts that couldn’t be ignored for much longer.

Slowly, you started to walk away from the coffee table. “I feel like I should probably have a shower, I’m in need of a rinse and… what are those?” You had been distracted, losing your train of thought when you spotted the plate Damiano was eating off of.

He hesitated to answer, holding the plate closer to his chest. “My truffle fries.” 

Your stomach grumbled again. “I love truffle fries.”

“Right, but these are my truffle fries.” He said, watching as you got closer. “I got you halloumi fries.”

“Are you saying that you aren’t going to share those with me, the mother of your children?” You asked.

“Wow, Damiano. What kind of example does that set for our kids?” Ethan asked, his tone completely serious.

“Okay, first of all- our kids aren’t here.” Damiano said as you placed yourself on the couch cushion beside him. “Secondly- didn’t you just say you were gonna have a shower?”

You shrugged, watching him stab his fork through some of the potato chips. “Yeah I was gonna, but then, fries…” He raised the fork, but instead of taking it into his own mouth, he extended the food to you. “Thanks Daddy.”

You no longer had the energy to invest into those insecure thoughts. The fucking had left you satisfied, at a level too high for that negativity to reach. But it had also left you very hungry, and you accepted a second serving from him without a single care for calories.

“Besides, I thought I could wait to shower.” You said. “Then we can shower together.”

— — — 

After six months, your kids had gotten their wish and were taken back to the arcade Thomas and River had introduced them to. But it wasn’t purely a fun day out of the house for the seven of you, just for your eldest children to get to re-experience the games that had captured their imagination.

There was a distinct goal in mind, to win a toy for Thomas’ son. River had just given birth to Leone and arriving empty-handed to visit them in the hospital was simply not an option.

Showing off his throwing skills on the basketball hoop station, Cosmo had won the majority of the tokens. But when it came to redeeming a toy with these, it was a group effort. Marsha boosted herself up onto her tiptoes as she looked over all the options that covered the wall behind the attendant. From her spot on Damiano’s shoulders, Sylvia could scan the highest shelves. The patient worker pulled down some of the items that Cosmo pointed to, letting him have a closer look. But none of these plushies could hold his favour for long, or else one of his sisters informed him that it was all wrong.

Until the fuzzy sloth was brought down and placed on the counter in front of them, its comically-long limbs sprawled out with a mind of their own. Marsha had grabbed for it, running some sort of test that required the toy to be vigorously shaken in the air before her.

“It’s asleep.” Cosmo had pointed out. “That’s just like the baby gonna be, ‘a’cause babies only sleep.”

“I like his colour.” Sylvia said.

Marsha had proceeded to rub the animal’s head against her cheek. “He’s very soft.”

The sleeping, light blue sloth was bagged up. Along with some small trinkets for your own children, purchased in the hopes of keeping any of them from getting too jealous, or possessive of the brand new toy.

The sloth was transferred into a special gift bag once you arrived at the hospital’s parking lot. Already inside was your addition of an extra-long charge cord for River’s phone because you knew the placement of electrical outlets in hospital rooms were inconvenient.

From your own experiences, you knew hospitals had a distinctly unnatural scent, that could get to be overwhelming and alienating from the rest of the world when sat in for too long. The only changes in what filled your nostrils were the poops and other stinks from your baby. Even opening the window in pursuit of fresh air could fail to provide lasting relief. So you had filled a spray bottle with rose water (your friend’s favourite scent) to give her a palette cleanser, something she could have complete control over.

Your boyfriends loaded the children out of the car. Bowie remained asleep during the transfer from car seat to stroller, to be steered by Ethan. Damiano had a twin holding each hand. Cosmo insisted on being the one to carry the gift bag.

Your family was directed to the right ward and Cosmo swung the bag far out in front of himself with every step forward. “I wonder what the baby is gonna call ‘im.”

“You don’t know it’s a boy.” Sylvia said.

“The baby don’t even know his name.” Marsha said.

Ethan stopped walking, the leader getting everyone’s attention immediately. He turned around, a serious expression on his face as he looked at the children. “Okay, does everyone remember what we talked about this morning, about how we’re gonna behave while we’re seeing Aunt River?”

“Yes, Dada.” Marsha said with a bit too much enthusiasm, meanwhile Cosmo silently mimed sealing his mouth shut with a zipper.

“We’re not gonna scream or yell out or climb all over the place like we’re at a party or something, are we?” Ethan asked and you saw Damiano shaking his head, just as the kids were. “We’re gonna be calm and quiet and kind. You guys are gonna have to treat her like you like to be treated when you’re sick- you’re gonna be nice and quiet and gentle, aren’t you?”

“But Aunt Wiva isn’t really sick, is she Dada?” Sylvia asked.

“No sweetheart, she’s just really tired. And the only way she and the baby are gonna feel better is if we treat them real gentle.” Ethan said.

“And that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.” You said. “Right everybody?”

Everyone nodded, the children silent as he turned around, walking past the doors of the other patients' rooms. As you got closer to River’s room, Cosmo spoke up from beside you.

“Does Bowie know that he needs to keep quiet?” He asked in a completely serious whisper.

You nodded before whispering back. “Yes, I’m sure he’s gonna try his hardest.”

Two-day-old Leone was set up in a hospital bassinet, silent as his dad stood before him. Thomas was making goofy faces in between wearing a smile wider than you had ever seen on his face. You wondered how long he had been in this exact position, had hours gone by with him doing nothing but be completely enamoured by his son?

With chairs pulled up to the hospital bed, Victoria and René were keeping River company. The conversation was hushed, but you could see how animated River was, as René leaned in. “...when they lost Tyra, that was the time to jump ship, because it had been really going downhill, like, the cracks were clearly there. But how many top models could she find, realistically?”

“Rita Ora is worse than you think.” River told them. “Honestly, it’s so not worth watching. If I hadn’t been bored out of my entire fuck-” Her eyes grew wide as she spotted your family entering the room, your children quickly zipping in. “Hey guys.”

Damiano progressed over to Thomas, instantly bringing him in for a tight hug. Applying the brakes, Ethan parked the stroller out of the way and went over to look at Leone. Sylvia walked behind him, her wide eyes trying to take this whole scene in.

René moved out of her seat to offer it to you. You sat down and reached your hand out to River at once. “Welcome to the club.”

She took your hand. “Thanks. The initiation process absolutely sucked, but thanks.”

“I knew you could do it.”

Cosmo placed his hand on your leg after wiggling into your peripheral vision. “Mama, Ma…” He started off quietly, shuffling his feet on the floor. “Hey Mama?”

“Yes, Mister Moe?”

He seemed too shy to look at River as he twisted the fabric handles of the gift bag around his fists. “Who ‘m I app’osed to give this to? It’s for the baby, but he’s too little, and I- but he- it’s for…”

“Do you wanna give it to Aunt River?” You asked as you helped Marsha climb up into your lap.

He nodded and stepped closer to the bed, showing a bright smile to River. “We got this- I won the games and-” He handed the gift up to her. “We went back to the arcade that you brung- and I did the basketball and got this for the baby, from the arcade that you brung us to.”

“Oh my goodness, you must be really great at the game, even better than when I…” River trailed off, giving an appropriately theatrical gasp when she pulled the stuffed sloth out. “Wow, look at this cutie. Thanks so much, you guys. Honey, look at what they got for Leone.”

Thomas turned around with a smile on his face. But when his eyes landed on the sloth that she was holding up, his expression changed - deadpan as he looked at your boyfriends. “A sloth, really? Why do you have to be so shady all of the time? Sending me that emoji to make fun of me and how I’m always asleep is one thing. But it’s another thing to be throwing shade and reading me right in front of my son…” Victoria had to put a hand over her mouth to attempt to hide her giggles. “You are-”

“Actually, the kids chose it.” You said.

“Cosmo won it for the baby.” River added.

He instantly softened, falling back into that easy smile as he came over to take the toy. “It’s so cute. Leone is gonna absolutely love it, you guys are the best.” He dangled the animal’s long legs into the bassinet, waggling the feet in Leone’s space. “It’s perfect, this is really too sweet, you guys didn’t have to.”

“Really sweet from the shadiest people on the planet, apparently.” Ethan said.

As River looked through the other items in the bag, Victoria lifted Cosmo up into her lap. He was very happy to recount almost every detail of the arcade to her, with Marsha adding in her own comments.

You saw Sylvia wander away from looking at Leone, coming over to stand at your side. You ran a hand through her long hair. “What do you think of the baby, Miss Missy?”

“Who do you think he most looks like?” René asked as she leaned against the back of Victoria’s chair. “Does he look like Tommy, or does he look like your aunt?”

“Doesn’t look like enny’one, he’s a baby. He looks most like a potato.” Sylvia said with a shrug.

This set River off laughing. “Well, that’s it. We were really struggling to pick a middle name, but I think we’ve got the winner now- Leone Potato Raggi.”

You held Marsha close to your chest as you got to your feet. You went over to the crib, to look at the swaddled-up infant. He was peacefully asleep, oblivious to all of the attention being showered on him. He was adorable - even though you couldn’t decide which parent he took after, you also didn’t see any resemblances to a potato. You admired his chubby cheeks and the single tiny hand that poked out from the top of his blanket.

“You were never that little.” Damiano told your daughter.

“Yes I was.” She said, beginning to laugh. “You’re so silly, Papa.”

“What? That makes absolutely no sense that this big girl right here could have-” Damiano was cut off when Bowie woke up with a wail.

“Oh-no, Bowie.” Cosmo said.

You handed Marsha to Damiano so that you could go over to the pram. “I’ve got this, I’ll take him for a little walk and find out what’s wrong.” You put your hands on the handle and started to steer towards the door, your son’s face was growing redder as he worked himself into a greater state of distress. “How does that sound, baby Bowie? Let Mama take care of you.”

“Let me help.” Victoria had gotten to her feet.

“No it’s fine, I’m sure it’s just a diaper change- wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

But she fell into step behind you. “Well, then let me handle that, ‘cause you deserve a break. You’ve had more than your fair share of dirty diapers, let me…” Once you had taken a few steps out of the room, she caught up to you, speaking in a distinctly different tone of voice. “I have to talk to you.”

“Oh okay.”

You found a waiting area with some vacant couches, you pulled the crying baby free. You checked him over and she sat down next to you.

“I think we’re all clear on the diaper-front.” You said, patting him soothingly on the back. “So what’s wrong, bubba? Are you hungry, is that the drama? Is it about time for your bottle?”

She followed your instruction of where to find the bottle of milk in the pocket of the diaper bag. “Can I?”

“Sure.” You said, passing your son into her awaiting hands. “If this is what he wants, he might be just feeling fussy, or he’s…” You trailed off when he immediately accepted the plastic teat into his mouth, his crying dying off as he started to feed.

She easily settled the baby in her arms, holding the bottle at exactly the right angle. “Aw, little man was just grumpy ‘cause he’s hungry, just like his Dada.”

With Bowie no longer upset, you could let some of that tension roll off of your shoulders and refocus your energy. “What did you need to talk about? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” She said, sounding as bubbly as ever. Until she paused, letting down that easygoing persona that everyone expected. “Well, except, she hasn’t proposed yet.”

“Yeah, I had kinda noticed that. The last time we talked about this- first and last time, you were a little cagey. You were over-analysing ‘cause you were certain it was gonna happen at any second. You were acting like every time that you opened a door, you thought she was gonna be waiting there, on one knee.”

“Well she was really serious about us and our future…”

“Was?” You repeated, eyebrows raising. “So she isn’t anymore?”

“No, she definitely still is. But we’ve been sitting at this same level of serious and things are going fine- perfect, actually, it’s all perfect. But I want that next level, I wanna be her fiancé and then I wanna be her wife.”

“Vic.” You cleared your throat, trying to not get too emotional too soon. “That’s amazing, how long have you felt this way?”

“It’s kinda been building ever since that night, since you and me had that talk before you guys left for your grown-up slumber party.”

“Victoria!” Not wanting to upset your son or draw any unwanted attention from the hospital staff, you could only scold her in a whisper. “That was forever ago. You’ve been keeping this from me for this long?”

“Well I didn’t want to jinx it and I wasn’t gonna subject you to daily updates on my feelings for my girlfriend- what a narcissistic bore I’d be.” She said. “Besides, it’s not like it happened straight away. But talking with you helped put things into perspective. Getting everything picture perfect, or to fit a mould, or whatever, none of that mattered when all I wanted was her next to me for every time this little guy yawned and I swooned.

“And ever since that night, I just keep finding more reasons to say yes. There are so many things that I wanna experience and I only want to experience them with her, otherwise I don’t wanna do them.”

“But she hasn’t proposed.” You said.

“Right and we made a rule that she would be the one that had to propose because I already had, that time when it was a joke.”

You shrugged. “Break the rule.”

“Break the rule?”

“Since when have you cared about abiding by rules? And, in my life, breaking the rules has always given the best results.” You said, giving Bowie’s foot a little squeeze for emphasis.

She nodded, starting to smile. “Break the rules. I need to get your help picking a ring because I can’t tell if what I’m liking is ‘cause I want it, or if I really believe she’ll love it.”

Bowie was handed back to you when it came time for burping. Victoria got her phone out and started to show you the options. In a soothing rhythm, you patted your son’s back as you said yes or no to each dazzling ring your friend showed you. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

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