#gonna go get frames for the prints later so I can hang them on my wall or put them on one of the shelves

[godhasforsnakenme]

LOOK WHAT CAME IN THE MAIL YESTERDAY!!

This is the first zine that I've purchased in a while, and I am absolutely in love with the fanworks & all of the additional merch that was included – the biggest thank you to everyone who made it possible for us fans to get to enjoy this <3

@obikinzine

[zodiakuroo]

copycat

18+, eren jaeger x fem!reader

part two of pierced

inspired by the 'big stick' scene from jawbreaker (iykyk)

wc: 3.7k

contains: mild dubcon, light dom/sub, ball play, choking, dumbification, degradation, spit, creampie

Eren can’t help but admire you from the doorway of your shared bedroom. One would think, that after 30 days of edging, you would learn not to be such a fucking tease. But here you are flitting around the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a frilly pair of lilac panties.

‘Stop being a perv. It’s hot out.’ You don’t have to say it. The ‘you’ in his head is already chastising him for the lascivious nature of his thoughts.

The ‘you’ in his head is also already bent over the granite top counter, panties long discarded, presenting yourself to him, begging ‘Please Eren. Fuck me.’

He can’t help it. Everyday he’s found himself face to face with your cute little pussy, absolutely begging to get filled and not being able to do anything about it. It’s not his fault that when he sees you wearing next to nothing, he just wants to stick his cock in you.

Except it’s entirely his fault.

That’s why even though you can feel the weight of his stare as you move around the kitchen, you don’t even spare a glance in his direction.

If there’s one thing these last few weeks have taught you, its willpower. And thanks to your newfound self-discipline you’re able to resist the urge to pounce on him when your boyfriend pulls your back against the solid wall of his chest. “Baby.” He rasps. “I’m all healed up.”

The statement makes goosebumps appear on your skin despite the sweltering heat but other than that, you show no signs of exactly how pent up you are.

Eren made you swear not to touch yourself whining about how unfair it would be and how he would really appreciate your support in his hour of need. Yes he used those exact words. You kept your promise but not without intending to receive payback. It was only a matter of how. The idea hadn’t come to you yet.

“Really?” You don’t even bother to turn around, pushing past him. Partly as a way to tease him but also because you don’t trust yourself to be able to resist him once you get a good look at him. From his scent alone you can tell he’s fresh from a shower and that’s when he’s the most dangerous. He smells cool and fresh like his shower gel, spicy and warm like his aftershave and fruity and floral like his your shampoo. It’s hypnotic.

The trance is broken when he pulls you even closer to him, grinding his bulge into your backside.

“Stop buying that 2-in-1 shit if you’re gonna use mine all the time anyways.” You grumble.

Right.

Revenge first. Dick second. The voice in your head reminds you.

You wriggle out of his hold, remembering why you came into the kitchen in the first place. You breathe a sigh of relief as you open the freezer door, the cold air providing a brief reprieve from the near suffocating heat of your apartment. Once you’ve obtained your target; a cherry popsicle hidden behind some ice packs and frozen peas, you finally take a look at your tormentor.

“Babe c’mon.” Eren persists.

He looks good. Unfairly good considering the fact that he’s not even trying. Fresh from the shower, he has on a worn out white t-shirt, stretched around the neckline which gives you a mouthwatering look at his perfectly sculpted collarbones and no more than the top of his pecs that peak out above the seam. His grey athletic shorts hang low on his hips and outline his print a little too well so you know he’s not wearing boxers. Eren hasn’t bothered to tie up his long hair leaving the damp tendrils dangling above his shoulders with a few stray strands framing his handsome face. He’s putting up a nonchalant front but the tick in his eyebrow gives his irritated disposition away.

Surely he didn’t believe that you would let him have his way with you that easily.

Except he did. Because under most circumstances he would. But today, your own stubbornness (only marginally) drowns out your desire for your Adonis of a boyfriend so you push past him into the lounge, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Later.” You bring the frozen treat to your lips. “It’s so hot.” Again, Eren tries to keep his face expressionless but you easily spot the way he clenches his jaw as his gaze fixes itself onto your mouth.

Bingo

You close your eyes, enjoying the sweet cherry taste and cool sensation that spreads throughout your body.

“On second thought,” You start, as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. “There is something else I’d rather have in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” Eren dons a matching smirk and stalks his way over to you, sitting down so that you can straddle him. “Tempting but honestly, your mouth isn’t what I had in mind.” His voice trails off, large hands moving down to cup your ass, giving the soft flesh a squeeze for good measure. But before he can take it any further you’re already manoeuvring your way between his knees.

“Oh. You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You pout, resting your head against his thigh, trying your best to sound disappointed.

Eren swallows whatever argument he was about to present when he sees your pretty eyes, shaded by fluttering lashes looking up at him with the tip of the crimson popsicle pressed against your sinful mouth. The same sinful mouth he’s been dreaming about for a month.

Fuck.

“Yeah, okay.” He grumbles while you watch him pull his already half hard cock out of his bottoms. It’s so pretty and long, perfectly thick in all the right places, decorated at the tip with a vertical running titanium barbell.

He’s got a hand around his base, waiting for you to replace the sweet treat in your mouth with his aching cock but much to his dismay your attention is drawn a little lower.

The sight of his plush balls all swollen and full of cum proves to be too much for you to resist. He shudders when your cold lips press against the taut skin. You know he’s sensitive from being so backed up. That’s why he starts panting as you leave wet kisses on his sac, leaving your saliva all over it while his shaft grows harder above you.

“Hold this for me.” You pass him your popsicle, that is slowly starting to melt which he takes in his free hand.

“Okay can you just- fuck.” One more kiss, right on the shiny metal of his newly healed piercing, shuts him up quickly.

Your own hands find their place on his thighs. You dip your head down again and take one of his balls in his mouth massaging it with your tongue.

“Christ.” He groans, slowly jerking himself off while you worship his balls.

“Oh poor baby…. so full.” You murmur letting go of the left to suck on the right one, savouring the weight of them.

“Yeah.” His voice is about a whole octave higher than usual. “Hurts.” He scrunches up his face when you let go of his ball with a pop.

“I bet.” You giggle. Eren is now at full mast, veiny shaft resting against his abdomen, dribbling precum which coats the shiny piercing that crowns his angry-red tip. His wrist flicks ever so elegantly as his hand moves languidly up and down, up and down, up and-”

“Princess.” Your boyfriend whines, yanking you out of your daze. “Enough with the teasing. You wanted to suck me off. Do it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, not losing sight of your revenge plot.

“Baby,” You pout. “I really want to but-” It’s so hard to bite back your laugh. “But I don’t remember how.”

“Wait what?” His hand stops right in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s been so long. Can you show me?”

Eren’s expression goes from perplexed to vicious but you don’t budge, blinking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

“How?” He huffs impatiently. It’s funny actually, seeing him struggle to tolerate a fraction of his own bitter medicine.

Your eyes shift to the frozen treat still in his hand that’s starting to drip down his knuckles. “I’m a visual learner.”

He moves like he’s about to stand up but you won’t make it that easy for him. “Please, Rennie? Please teach me how to suck your cock?”

As much as Eren has you wrapped around his finger, he’s just as whipped for you. So when you look at him with those sparkly eyes and call him the pet name he swears he hates but brings him to his knees when you use it, you know you have him.

Hook, line and sinker.

You use your thumb and middle finger to make a circle around his base, positioning yourself eye level with his leaking slit.

His tongue peaks out cautiously, eyes trained on yours as he flicks it across the tip, testing the waters. Immediately you follow suit, tasting his precum for the first time in so long. His hips buck off the couch, chasing the gone-too-soon sensation but you dig your nails into his thigh, reminding him who’s in control right now.

You quirk your brow at him, making sure he understands what you want.

How many times have you found yourself in this exact position: sitting between your boyfriend’s thighs while he looks down at you, both of you equally as lust drunk as the other. But this time he’s the one panting and whimpering while you have your turn to torture him.

Eren doesn’t like it. Not one bit. He wants to smack that smug little grin right off your face but instead he pulls at your hair, tugging right at the roots and making you yelp in pain. Now you’re scowling. But it’s hard to look at all intimidating sitting beneath him with your head tilted at such an awkward angle. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs clench together either.

Never breaking eye contact, he uses the flat of his tongue to lick a broad stripe up the length of the popsicle. You squirm in place, remembering how it feels to have him lick across your cunt exactly like that.

Fine. He’d play along with your little game. But on his own terms.

You lean forward to copy him but the hand holding your head keeps you in place. Without looking away, Eren launches a glob of spit onto the already drippy ice-cream before licking it away. It’s that simple for him to put a crack in your domineering façade and have you whimpering right at his feet as per usual.

The corners of his lips twitch as a silent challenge to you.

Never one to back down, you use your tongue to trace the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulsate. As you get closer to his prince Albert, you can’t hold back from swirling the wet muscle around the cold metal.

A soft whimper escapes his lips as you pull away, keeping your mouth agape, looking up at him expectantly.

It’s silent for a moment before Eren realises what you’re wordlessly pleading for. “Fucking slut.” He mutters, almost amazed before he gathers more of his saliva to drop into your mouth with a loud khwa pto echoing throughout the quiet apartment.

You close your mouth with a satisfied smile, savouring the taste of sweet, tart cherry and a flavour that is uniquely Eren, letting it mingle with your own saliva before spitting it on to his cock. You use your tongue to spread the wetness all along the shaft, leaving it covered in slick sheen.

“So fuckin’ nasty.” He groans, moving his hand from your head to push his own hair out of his face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view of you right now.

You feel the way his thigh twitches under your palm every time you come even close to his puffy cockhead and your tongue brushes across the sensitive piercing. The idea that you have him like this, desperate and whining, after weeks of him toying with you is exhilarating to say the least.

You have to rein yourself in before you end the fun too soon.

Reluctantly, you pull away and patiently await your next command.

You know what he wants next and so does he but Eren can’t help but feel self-conscious.

Of course, he loves the way you look when you’re going down him. His gallery is filled with pictures of you with your eyes filled to the brim with tears and your lips stretched impossibly wide around his girth. When you’re not around he gets off to the videos him fucking your face, relishing in the way you gag while you try to accommodate him in your throat. He doesn’t think he could ever measure up to how sexy you look with your pupils blown, lips all swollen and your spit dripping down your chin.

But just like you, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Ever so slowly, he opens his mouth and latches on to the blunt top of the popsicle. His plump lips form a perfect O-shaped pout, stained beautiful crimson from the fruit juice. Your gaze is transfixed on his face, the sharp lines and edges tinted with an uncharacteristic blush as his cheeks hollow out, to suck it in deeper.

“So pretty baby.” You breathe out.

He shudders as the cool air fans out across his wet skin.

“Yeah? ‘m pretty?” He smirks, using his free hand to drag his cock across your face, smearing his precum on your lips. “Show me how you treat pretty boys. Please?”

And how could you deny him?

Centimeter by centimeter, you pull him in. Only the first few inches, get to enjoy the warm, slippery cavern of your mouth while the rest of him has to make do with the soft skin of your hand gliding up, down and around.

“Fucking take it inside. Christ.” He groans, frustration evident as he glares down at you.

You simply shake your head a ‘no’, far too content with the taste and the weight of him in your mouth to stop suckling at his cock. If he wants more, he knows what he has to do.

The frozen treat is back between his lips and far too quickly, with not enough thought he pushes it inside as far as it can go until his gag reflex forces him to abort his mission, sputtering out red-coloured saliva.

You pull off of him as you erupt into a fit of giggles.

Eren takes advantage of the fact that you’re unguarded and in a matter of seconds he has you pinned to the floor. The poor popsicle is left in a sad, melting puddle on your couch while his long, sticky fingers circle around both of your wrists, the other hand keeping a harsh grip on your jaw.

Yeah. Not laughing now, are you?

“Was that funny to you princess?” He questions you, almost daring you to hit back.

Knowing when to quit was never one of your strong points.

“Not funny.” You say despite your giddy smile. “My pretty boy just needs more practice.” You snicker.

You’re pushing his buttons on purpose now. At best, you expect some degrading words fitting of your bratty attitude. At worst, you expect the sting of his palm to come down against the side of your face, reminding you of your place.

What you don’t expect is a wry chuckle before he says, “I forgot how bitchy you get when you don’t get stuffed full of cock enough.”

Eren frees your hands in favour of placing both of his on your knees. He spreads apart your legs as wide as they can go, dragging his coarse palms up and up to rest at the apex of your thighs. He flicks up the hem of your shirt to reveal to him the crotch of your panties that's soaked through with your arousal. He pulls them to the side to expose your cunt to him. Eren barely stops himself from tearing the flimsy fabric right off your body and only because he thinks they're pretty and wants to see you wear them again.

He can smell you. But he suppresses the desire to bury his face between your pillowy thighs for as long as you’ll let him. He knows that’s not what either of you really want.

“This needy pussy been missing me?” He coos, keeping his voice sugary sweet and dripping with condescension. He grinds his pierced tip all along your cunt, dipping under your hood to press right against your clit.

You feel it before you realise what’s happening; the burn of his fat head of his cock prodding at your tiny hole, forcing it to stretch around him.

“Jesus fuck- ‘s tight.” He grits out, managing to pop just the tip in.

Tears gather at your waterline as he impales you further and further on his cock, reintroducing your insides to him and his newest body mod. The bulb of the piercing drags deliciously over every bump and ridge that lines your walls. It just keeps going and going until it’s all too much.

Instinctively, your hand flies to Eren’s abdomen, fingers splaying across his tummy. You want to ask him to stop or wait or at the very least prep you. But you’re just so full.

He’s not even all the way in and you’re full of him everywhere. Did it feel like this before?

He doesn't give you a chance to remember.

“Move. Your fucking. Hand.” He grunts before moving it for you and sheathing his cock fully in your spasming cunt.

“Fuck Eren. ‘s big.” Your voice breaks as you utter that last word right one Eren fills you to the hilt. Your arms fly to his biceps, squeezing the muscle so tight that you’re certain it hurts him but he doesn’t complain.

No one would believe that mere minutes ago Eren was the one under your thumb. Not when he’s so quickly managed to turn you into a blubbering mess.

“Where’s that smart mouth now?” He mocks you as if he’s doing any better. In reality he’s keeping himself still, with his pressed against yours trying to regain a semblance of control, not wanting this to end so soon.

Slowly, he starts to rock his hips against you and little by little you open up around him, offering less and less resistance. Hand on the bible, he swears he can feel your gooey pussy sucking him in every time he pulls back, almost like it’s begging him to never leave again. Hand on the bible, he swears that he won’t.

“Huh?” He taunts. “Where’s the bitch who thought she could fuck with me?” He emphasises his point with one sharp snap of his hips that hits the bull’s eye.

“Eren! Right there!” You cry out as you back arches up into him but he forces you to stay down by pressing his palm firmly against your sternum.

“Right there?” He mimics your voice, with a high pitched, nasal tone. You can’t even cringe at how it sounds because the feeling of the rounded metal hitting that squishy patch deep inside you with pinpoint accuracy is too overwhelming for you to think about anything else.

“You want me to fuck you here?” His thrusts start to pick up pace. You’re finally getting used to him again and the slick juices from your pussy let’s him move as fast as he wants, as deep as he wants so you he can use his cock to abuse all of your sweet spots

You can’t exactly speak; only nod, as you dig your nails into his shoulders and back, leaving a trail of crescent shaped indents in your wake. The coil at the base of your belly twists tighter, tighter and tighter still as all your nerve endings work overtime to register the way he fills you up completely, the way the metal rubs along all the right spots and the way Eren rams into you like a man possessed.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” Now you’re begging. It’s impossible to stop the fear bubbling in your chest. You’ve become well-acquainted with this feeling. Absolutely drowning in pleasure and right on the edge of an unimaginable peak before having it ripped away. It’s not unreasonable to be worried that Eren might leave you high and dry once again.

He halts his movements the moment he notices the doubt behind your eyes.

Your pleas become more and more frantic, already thinking the worst. “Don’t stop Eren! Please don’t stop.” You sob but go silent when his hand rests itself firmly around your throat.

“Told you.” He punctuates the sentence with one, deep thrust.

“Fuck. What did I say?” He growls as he falls back into the same brutal rhythm that had you teetering on the very brink of an orgasm before.

God above as your witness, you try and answer but all that comes out is a pathetic squeak of his name before he cuts you off completely by squeezing your neck tighter.

“S-said I was gonna fuck you stupid. Right?”

You nod as best you can, head spinning from the lack of air and your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Now fuckin’ cum for me so I can keep my promise.”

The second his hand meets your clit, you’re a goner. The calloused pad of his thumb rubs the neglected nub with exactly the right pressure to push you over the edge. Every muscle clenches as that tightening coil finally snaps. The intoxicating pleasure that shoots through your body reaches your head at the same time as the pressure on your throat is released, much needed oxygen flooding your brain and prolonging the high.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as cream around his cock. It’s pointless to hold off his release any longer and with nowhere else to go he spills his load deep in your pussy. The feeling of his hot cum seeping into your pussy has you twitching around him, trying to milk every last drop from him.

You may have blacked for a second, eyes fluttering open as Eren gently taps your cheek. His handsome face, all flushed and sweaty comes into focus. Both of you are wearing equally dopey grins as he asks you, “Did it feel as good as I said?”

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 1

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance. Billy gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕕, 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕣𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»———��————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were grabbing armfuls of clothes out of the wardrobe and dumping them into the three massive suitcases you’d laid open on the floor. If any of your friends had seen you at that point, they’d have said you looked like a woman possessed.

Finally, the wardrobe was empty of your clothes, and you moved on to the chest of drawers and then the bathroom. The contents were shovelled into a couple of large backpacks, as were various other bits and bobs from bedside table drawers and shelving units. In a surprisingly short space of time, you’d packed up everything that belonged to you in this damned apartment.

That left you just two very quick things to do, and you could then somehow get all this luggage downstairs into the lobby and get the hell out of Dodge.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The receptionist at the airport hotel you were booking into looked at the amount of luggage you had with you, and studied your face again carefully. No doubt she was wondering if you were a celebrity. Obviously deciding that there was an outside chance that you were but she just hadn’t recognised you, you were given an upgrade on the room without even asking for one.

Plopping down onto the bed once you’d got into your room, you rummaged around in one of the backpacks until you found your laptop, connecting it to the hotel WiFi. Opening one of the major airlines’ websites, you began scrolling through the destinations offered from JFK.

So many to choose from!

Now to plan your getaway.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy Russo got back home really late. He was going to be in trouble, no doubt about it... he hadn’t even texted because he hadn’t wanted to face any questions about what he was doing and when he’d be home.

Opening the apartment door, he was surprised to find it in darkness. Oh... had she gone to bed already? That wasn’t a good sign. He switched on the lights and immediately noticed a sheet of paper and a photo frame lying prominently on the kitchen island.

Walking over, he didn’t even have to pick up the note to read it. There was only one word, printed large.

“Goodbye.”

His stomach knotted and then he looked at the photo frame lying next to it. The photo was the one which was usually on the bedside table, a favourite of his.... she was sitting on a bar stool and he was behind her, his arms right around her. Both laughing into the lens as the photo was taken.

The photo was still in the frame, but it was torn in two.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Finally, by the next morning you’d decided on London. You’d never been, and quite honestly wanted to lose yourself in another big city. Flight booked, an AirBnB apartment booked for two weeks and you didn’t need a visa, so you were all set.

Now just one more thing to do. You opened up the box containing your new mobile phone and fitted the SIM card into it. After about twenty minutes of entering contact details and various apps onto it, you took your original phone and called Karen.

Her bored voice answered so you knew she was already at work, but she perked up when she heard your voice.

“Hi honey! How’re things? Wanna meet up for lunch today? I’m bored and I need a good gossip.”

You were a freelance copy writer and so you were your own boss. There were one or two assignments you were currently working on, but you could work from anywhere you could get a WiFi connection, so that wasn’t a problem.

“Uhhh, sadly not darling, I’m flying to London this afternoon.” You could hear her intake of breath, then she squealed, “Oh you lucky woman, how’d you manage to land an assignment like that?”

You gave a bitter little laugh, “I’ve left Billy.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had sat on his sofa for a long time after he’d seen the note and photo. At first he’d just had to sit down, overwhelmed, as he had the most horrible feeling that his world was crashing down around his ears.

She was the one person who made him feel safe and loved. But he knew only too well that he’d been walking the line recently what with the situation at Anvil and having to keep Madani sweet. He hadn’t actually crossed the line, but he’d had to make sure she thought that he would, and soon at that. Would he have crossed it? He’d need to get back to himself on that question.

Of course he’d mentioned none of this to his girl. But obviously - somehow - he mustn’t have done a very good job at being discreet because she’d guessed something was up. And left him.

He’d poured himself a large whisky and downed it in one, before going over to the window and looking out forlornly at the city lights. Then he called Frank.

When he heard the gruff growl on the other end of the line, he said, “She’s left me, Frankie,” and realised how hoarse his voice sounded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“What?!” screeched Karen. You hadn’t divulged your recent secret fears to her, hoping against hope that you were wrong when you’d started noticing little things over the past few weeks. But now you gave her a full rundown of it all.

More and more claims of ‘working late’ and ‘being very busy at work’.

Alcohol on his breath after he’d been on these ‘working late’ evenings.

A distinct smell of CK’s Eternity from a jumper he’d left crumpled up in a corner on the bedroom floor when he’d been out extra late one evening.

The final straw? You almost laughed when you thought about it, as it was such a cliché. A smear of dark red lipstick on the inside collar on one of his otherwise pristine white shirts. And another unmistakable whiff of Eternity.

You’d never be able to wear that damn perfume again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie had been suitably sympathetic to start with, but had then begun to berate Billy for being ‘a stupid asshole’ once he’d explained what he’d been up to with Madani. “I didn’t sleep with her!” Billy grumbled, “....just messin’ around. You know we need to know what she knows.”

“Yeah, but women ain’t stupid, Russo! Were you goin’ home reeking of booze and another woman’s perfume?” Billy said nothing at first, just grunted but then said, “Maybe. Yeah.. probably.” “See!” said Frank, “...you’re a stupid asshole!” “I mean, she didn’t even challenge me on it!” Frank started laughing, “So that makes it her fault, huh!? You’re a piece of work, Russo.” “No, no.... I just meant, aren’t you supposed to have arguments about that kinda stuff first? She just up and left me!”

“I don’t blame her,” said Frank, “...and you know she’s not the type to take any BS from you, Bill. She probably thought it wasn’t worth her time listenin’ to you tryna give excuses for the inexcusable.”

Billy was reminded by this that one of Frank’s pet peeves was infidelity. “But I didn’t cheat!” said Billy forcefully. “Whaddya do, kiss her?” “Yeah.” “Feel her up a bit?” “Mmhuh.” “That’s cheatin’ in my book, Russo.” Billy realised he was hanging his head in shame, and quickly looked up and out of the window again.

“I dunno what to do, Frankie.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d given Karen your new number and told her on pain of death not to pass it on to anyone, even Frank and especially not to Billy. She’d assured you she wouldn’t, and neither would she tell them where you were headed.

She’d been fuming at Billy, and you wouldn’t like to be in his shoes the next time she happened to meet up with him. Her rage had been quite spectacular and she was really, really pissed that Billy hadn’t even tried to contact you. You didn’t say anything to her, but secretly you wondered if he’d actually spent the night with his side piece on this occasion and hadn’t even seen your note yet. Jealousy and anger began to take over and you stood up abruptly, determined that thoughts of that douchebag weren’t going to invade your brain.

You took the SIM card out of the phone, shut it down and tucked it away in one of your bags. Gathering all your stuff together, you began to get ready to leave the room..

Can’t wait to get on that plane, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frankie rang Billy back a couple of hours later. “Micro tracked her phone,” he said without preamble. “Where is she? At Karen’s?” Billy asked anxiously. There was a pause, then, “Nah, Bill. She’s at JFK. And her phone’s switched off now.”

Billy, standing next to the window again, yelled, “Fuck!” before leaning his head against the cold glass. “Can Micro find out which flight’s she’s booked on, Frankie?” “He can try, but it’ll involve some hacking so it might take a little longer.” He paused again, before continuing, “And avoid Karen. She’s out for your blood.”

Billy sighed, “She’s spoken to her?” “Yeah, course she has, Bill. She knows more than she’s tellin’ me of course, but I’m not even gonna try askin’ her. Waste of time.” “It’s okay, I get it, Frankie. I wouldn’t ask you to. But if she does say anythin’.....” “I’ll let you know,” Frank finished the sentence for him and hung up.

Billy looked out of the window and then up into the sky. She wanted to get away from him so badly, she’d got a plane ticket and was about to fly.

He just prayed he’d be able to find her before she took off.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

London

[sleepy-belphie]

Hello! I don’t know if you’re doing headcannon requests but if you don’t mind could you do something along the lines of “the brothers find out mc likes to draw and drew the brothers”

Hi! I am doing hc requests so thank you for sending this in! It was actually really fun to write, I really hope you enjoy it <3 Got a little carried away with this one too lol

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

He’s doing room checks as usual

And you left your sketchpad/drawing tablet out on your desk

You catch sight of it a bit too late and can only watch as Lucifer moves from your dresser to your desk

He pauses as his eyes spot the sketchpad/tablet

He picks it up and looks at it before glancing at you

“May I?”

You nod and nervously watch him go through your work

His face is unreadable as he goes through drawing after drawing of him and his brothers

It feels like an eternity before he finishes

“Do you do commissions?”

It takes a moment for you to register what he’s said

“...what?”

“I’d like to commission you.”

If you do traditional art he asks for a 30x40 of him and his brothers

If you do digital art he asks for a colored, full-body piece of him and his brothers

He lets you decide how much you want to be paid

But he thinks it’s not enough so he pays you 55,000 Grimm

The 30x40 piece hangs in his study

The colored, full-body piece is printed, framed, and sitting on his desk

Mammon:

He bursts into your room one night when you’re finishing up a drawing of Satan and Asmo

You’re not fast enough to hide it from him

“Is that Satan and Asmo? Oi! Where’s my drawing!?”

Before you can show him anything else he’s speaking again

“N-not that I care! It’s hard to capture this perfection! I can see why you haven’t drawn me!”

He tries to act unbothered, but you can see past his tsundere ways

Once he’s done declaring how unbothered he is, you show him some pieces with him in it

He grabs the pad/tablet excitedly and snatches it from you to marvel over your work

“This is actually really good, ya know? I bet we could make some good Grimm off your little talent.”

You can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes

But you tell him that is not happening and take your pad/tablet back

He’s a bit mopey about it for a little but eventually lets it go when he sees you aren’t budging

When he does have a little bit of Grimm he does commission you for a small piece

The brothers’ eyes almost bulge out of their head when they hear that Mammon actually paid you for work

“What!? The Great Mammon can be nice sometimes! It doesn’t mean anything!”

It means a lot actually

But you’re a pro at reading between the lines with Mammon

Leviathan:

He’s on social media when he sees a drawing on his explore page that he’s absolutely in love with

The art style? Immaculate. He wanted to see so many of his favorite game and anime characters in this style

He imagines Ruri-chan in your art style and his brain just *internet dial-up noises* for about five minutes

He goes to the artist’s profile and starts scrolling through all their posted work

He pauses when he comes across a drawing that looked suspiciously like him in his demon form

The face was blacked out but the serpentine tail, the horns, the diamonds on the neck, the side zipped hoodie

It had to be him

In shock, he scrolls back to the top of the profile and checks out the bio and name of the artist

He is greeted by a very familiar face and name

He is in your room less than 2 minutes later

“You! Y-You did this!?”

You almost drop your pad/tablet thanks to his outburst and abrupt entrance

You look at the DDD that was shoved in your face and slowly nod

You thought he was gonna blow up at you for posting a drawing of him, even though his face wasn’t in it

You are very wrong

Levi becomes your #1 source of income

The moment you finish a piece, he is commissioning you again

You worry that he’s draining his bank account because he tips you very well

But he isn’t bothered at all by it

All of your pieces are on display in his room

He also posts all of your art on his social media and tags you

Your page explodes in popularity and the commissions are rolling in from his online friends

You had no idea otakus pay so well

Mammon is very jealous of the amount of Grimm you have piling up

Satan:

One day he asks you about your hobbies and you tell him you draw

“What do you draw?”

Cue internal conflict on if it’s weird to tell someone you’ve been drawing them and their brothers since you’re always around each other

He senses your hesitation and like the smart ass he is, he’s able to guess exactly why 

“Would your hesitance be because of the subject of your art?”

He knows too much for his own good

You decide it’s best for him to see it instead of telling him

Being a fan of literary art, you were worried he may be overly critical of your fine art

He was not the type to sugarcoat anything

However, he simply smiles and hands your pad/tablet back

“You’re incredibly talented, MC.”

A few days later he asks you to tag along with him while he handles something

That ‘something’ is going to feed some stray cats he’s come across

“MC, I’d like to commission you. I’ve found homes for these cats but I want something to remember them by. Will you help me?”

How can you say no to a man holding four cats in his arms?

You take some photos for reference and make four different pieces for him

When you give them to Satan, you swear you’ve never seen a bigger smile on his face

He framed them all and keeps them on top of his bookshelves

Asmodeus:

He found out through Levi’s social media

He commissioned you for a piece of him and the protagonist of a game he recently started playing

This piques Asmo’s interest and he wonders if you’ve ever drawn him before

He approaches you when you’re in the kitchen grabbing a drink

“Hi, darling. I saw the piece you did for Levi and naturally if you’ve done one of him you’ve probably drawn my beauty as well, right?”

You decide to show him since he brought it up

He’s gushing over all of your art

No, seriously, he is praising you so much even the tip of your ears start burning from your blush

He commissions you to draw him in many different ways 

Him in his bedroom, him in the bath, him as a mermaid, him as an exotic dancer

He comes to you with so many different ideas

He tests your limits but you actually like that

Beelzebub:

Beel is rather stoic, but he doesn’t mean to be

It was his resting face and smiling was usually reserved for eating yummy food

But you wanted to practice drawing him with different expressions

Beel’s welcoming manner gave you the courage to approach him and ask if you can take some pictures of him to use for a reference

He’s shocked you wanna draw him but agrees with the condition that he gets to see some of your other work

You show him different pieces of him and his brothers and he’s smiling the entire time

“These are all so good. I didn’t know you could draw.”

He commissions a piece of him and Belphegor and one of all seven brothers

But he also asks if he can watch you draw them

You both spend quite a few nights together

You drawing and him munching on snacks and feeding you some every once in a while

His presence is actually pretty calming so you ask him if he minds staying around while you work even after you finish his commission

Beel being Beel, agrees to keep you company

The night usually ends with him carrying you to bed

Sometimes, he takes you to his bed to cuddle

Belphegor:

Belphie was actually the first brother you drew

You came across him asleep in the attic once and he looked so perfect

Your fingers were itching to draw him, so you did

It became a routine for you to head to the attic and draw him while he slept

You always crept out before he woke up

You thought he had no idea of your little practice sessions

But one day you looked down to fix a mistake you made on his nose

When you looked back up you saw Belphie staring right at you

“You know, if you’re gonna draw me the least you can do is show me.”

You try to stammer out an apology as he sits up

“Oh, I don’t care. You don’t make noise or anything, I’m just very hyperaware of my surroundings. So I know when someone is in the same room as me when I sleep.”

He moves over to you and looks at your pad/tablet

“Hm, not bad MC. Show me your other work some time.”

Then he goes back to his sleeping spot, curls up, and falls back asleep

You sit there with your pencil/stylus in your hand, trying to wrap your head around what just happened

But he didn’t seem disturbed so you continue drawing

When he wakes up you show him more of your work featuring his brothers

He asks if he can have a quick sketch you did of him and Beel 

You jokingly say he has to pay for it

He actually pays you for it

He puts it up in his room

It’s nice to see when you visit him and Beel

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact. 

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication. 

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive. 

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.” 

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both." 

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours. 

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it. 

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night. 

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you. 

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood. 

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you. 

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey. 

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.” 

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble. 

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek. 

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face. 

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” 

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.” 

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much. 

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends." 

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks. 

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises. 

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

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[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[dystopia-fantasy]

Always read the job description -Part 1

Max was a fit, well built man. He had been body building since he was 14 and now In his early 40s he has the body of a god, but is slowly getting to the age when he needs to find another way to make money. He knows he can't take part in his competitions anymore, and needs to take it easy. He got great grades in school and college, proving people wrong that you can't be a nerd in a jock body.

Max had some money saved and was able to keep up on bills for a few months but needed a job to keep his large house, in the rich area of the city. He got a call from a business he applied to a couple of days ago, telling him to go in for an interview tomorrow, and if it goes well he will be sent straight on a trip for the company. He gets his new blue suit ready to be worn the next day.

The morning arrives, it's 5am, and Max wakes. He does his normal morning routine, making breakfast, working out, taking a shower, then gets his suit on ready for his early morning interview. Driving to the office building in the middle of New York, it's at least 50 stories high, and is made of mostly glass, and is one of the newest modern builds in the city.

On arrival a large man in his late 60s wearing a suit greets him, "hello sir, you must be max, Sir Mammon is on his way down to collect you, may I say what an amazing suit you have on today".

Max looks the man up and down, seeing the man's huge belly flowing out from under his dress shirt, showing a massive W shape, "thanks mate, you might want a bigger shirt" then points to his belly.

"sorry if I offended you sir, but all clothing has been chosen by Sir Mammon himself" Mammon is the big boss of the business "if you would like to make a complaint I can print you a form".

Max laughs, "No thanks, I'm gonna sit over there, tell Mammon im there".

"will do sir, have a great day" the man says while max walks away paying no more attention to him.

About 15 minutes later a young handsome slender man walks over. "Max is it?" He says behind Max.

"yes.." max says confused.

"I'm Mammon, nice to meet you" he smiles holding his hand out for a shake.

"oh hello Mammon, is wasn't expecting someone so young, no offence of course" max shaking his hand.

Mammon let's out a little laugh, with a little grin "it's ok max, people don't expect someone like me to own such a remarkable company like this one would you like to follow me, we can go up to my office, this is Mark by the way, he's my Butler". Mark is another large man aged around 50, he has a massive belly stuffed into his suit, hes huffing and puffing, like he ran a marithon, "don't mind him, most of my staff are..."

Max cuts him off "fat?"

They both laugh, "you could say that Max" the elevator arrives and they all walk in, "now max, you did read the whole advertisement correct?".

Max didn't, it's was 48 pages long, who would read it all? He just looked at the wage he would get, it started at $100,000 per month. "Yes, I did".

"that's good, most guys are more keen to keep their body's but I guess if your struggling you'll do anything."

Max now confused just nod's and watches though the glass elevator as they fly up to the top floor.

"where here sir" Mark the butler says peacefully in his British accent.

They walk into the room, and Mammon sits at his desk pouring himself a glass of wisky, and Max one too. Max looks around in aww, the room was covered in art work, with the walls painted in golds and whites and had its own bar. "How do you have all this money?" Max asked.

"a mix of many things, this company, and a few investments paid for this whole building, I have many other ways but we're not here for that." Mammon points at the seat," take a seat max" Max sits the chair is made from leather and is very comfy. "So, max, I've gone through your file, I think you're perfect for the job."

"so, does that mean I have the job?" Max replies confused, expecting to be asked a question.

"well yes, if you agree to the terms"

"terms?" Max still confused.

"well yes, you expect to be paid 10times the amount the normal person for this job without any terms or conditions?"

"well I didn't know.." Max gets cut off.

"Max let me simplify them for you. You sacrifice your body to the company, and in trade you get, $100k X the amount you weigh paid into your account per month, So if you weigh 450lbs, you get $450k a month."

"what the fuck? That's sick, I'm not doing that, I'm leaving" and with that Max got up from the chair and stood face to face with Mammon, with the desk all that is separating them. "Your sick, you fa**ot".

With that Mammon's eyes glow a bright red. "I'm a what?" Max got through back against the chair by an invisible force. "Max you could have just left with your freedom, but now look what you've gotten yourself into".

"Let me go, What the fuck?" Max says while traped against that chair, it chreeking with the force of his muscle.

"I'm a fucking demon max, I'm never going to 'let you go'" he took a second break to mock max, "now, what did you say? Fa**ot, was it?".

"fuck, I didn't mean it" the force pins him down harder, trapping his arms against the leather chair arms, and pushing his legs against the underboard. "Please let me go home, I won't do it again."

"shut up max, the process is already starting".

Max looks down to see his body deflating, his pecs turning from mountain peaks to a flat surface, his giant powerful arms turning weak and light. And then looking up he sees a whole new man infront of him.

"Not as big as I thought I would get, but boy I'm big" he took a break to admire his new giant arms and pecs.

"what the?" Max looks in confusion, "how did you do that? Give me them back".

"what are you gonna do max? I'm an infinitely powerful being and you, your an old man, or at least your going to be."

"I'm only 42, what do you mean, going to be?"

"you see I don't have my infinite life span on earth, so to stay alive and in this fit body, I absorb anything a guy has and I want. In your case, these massive muscles, but then I need to absorb their life force as well, in order to make sure I don't age."

"what do you mean life force?"

"well, you have roughly 50 years, worth of life left, I'll drain about 20 years leaving you in your future crippled body at around age 60, force you to work for the company for another 20 years, then when your 80 drain the rest of your life, which after you get fat won't be much, then you got to hell."

"man your sick, let me go, LET ME GO!".

A bright red light shoots from Peters hand enveloping Max's whole body, and he starts to age, his face wrinkling, skin dropping, eye sight worsening, hearing getting muffled, and mind changing a little. "Max, you ok old man?".

"yes sir" max was confused in his mind, why did he say sir?

"max, you ready for your Cruise? You can have tones of food for the next 6 months."

"Yes sir, I'm ready" max lifts his head, opening his eyes to see a new blurry room from his new old eyes.

"you're gonna need these from now on" Peters eyes glow and a new pair of glasses appear on Max's face he can now see clear.

"thank you... Sir", max blinks seeing Peter infront of him, "what have you, done to me".

"Max, I've turned you into the perfect office worker, old, brainiac, who is soon going to get fat and live the rest of his life, in an office chair for me, don't worry for accomodation you live here now, we have apartments on floor 30 to 40, all workers live here, it's policy, we have also sent a team to your house to, well, blow it up, that way nobody is going to be looking for you, becuase we can plant a body"

"give me... My.... Body back, give me... My.. life back."

"Max we both know that will never happen, now enjoy a life of gluttony, and prepare yourself for hell, that's gonna be worse then anything I can do to you." Peter snaped his fingers and a red glow enveloped max.

Recovering from the glow max sees two men infront of him with a trolly of sorts between them. "Is he awake" one says,

"I don't know" said the other.

"im- awake" max said in a much older raspy voice.

"good we can now start the feeding" the man on the left said, his body as muscled as a god, ripped from head to toe, and we can see everything.

Max rubs his eyes under his glasses and opens them again, "Fucking hell, put some clothes on both of you".

Both men where nude, one a ripped god, another muscled up but with a big gut. "Clothes are banned here mate" the beefy man said in a type of Australia accent, "you cant say much fella, look at that tiny pecker".

The men laughed pointing at Max's shriveled up old cock and low hanging balls, "what the fuck"max tries to move his arm to cover him but his arm doesn't move, he looks down to see him stuck in a chair, with a cut out hole under his ass, and straps tying him down, trapping him. "What... Are you gonna do to me?" Max asked sceared.

The men laughed at him again, "no need to act to sceared, we're here to feed you for the next 6 months".

"but... Sir said..." Max get cut off.

"he said you'd be going on a cruise? Fucking hell are you dumb? He's a demon, you shouldn't trust a demon" The muscled guy says.

"bro let's start the feeding we have 50 other guys to see and I wanna watch football Tonight." The beefy guys says, and in unison both their eyes glowed a bright red, showing they where demons too.

The trolly between them had several items on top, one long tube, which floated in the air for a few moments before shoving itself down maxes nostril and deep into his stomach, his head flipped back trying to wriggle it out, but it was stuck. Another item moved into his frame, a IV bag holder, holding a giant barrel type object made of glass, and two large bags floated of the table again and started to drain into the barrel, and the tube connected itself to it, starting a flow of the liquid into maxes stomach.

"done" the beffy guy said. "Now we'll be back tomorrow to refill your barrel, and clean you up if you make a mess, but youll basically be unconscious for the next 6 months, due to the drugs were feeding you."

"so enjoy your sleep mate, you'll litterally wake up a different man." The two men laughed and walked out, max tried fighting the restraints but in his crippled form could do nothing. The door slammed and locked, and the room fell dark, max screamed begging into the darkness to be let free, and to have his life back, which he had only an hour before, but nothing happened, nobody came. He felt the drugs taking effect, but tried to fight back, but it was useless, his body slumped and loosened. His mind fell blank as he drifted of into his 6 month hibernation.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter Two.

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 10.7k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 12, 2017 

It had been a week and a day since her move to New York, and Luci had never felt lonelier. Don’t get her wrong, she knew it’d only been a week when she had several more weeks to come to make friends and memories, but as she began to settle down into her new home, she felt very alone. 

Luci had called her parents approximately eight times within the past week—some of them were twice in one day—and all those calls were due to her loneliness. Ren and Beatrice were starting to get worried, and a bit annoyed despite being glad that their daughter hadn’t forgotten about them, but the calls were getting a little too much. And not much to their surprise, their Lulu always had something to talk about, which she mostly ranted about being a bit nervous and excited about rehearsals. 

Currently, Luci was headed to rehearsals as she walked to the Metropolitan Avenue Station, a two minute walk from her apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Knowing her directions and the subway quite well, she got on the G train and got off in Court Square in Queens. She walked five minutes to take the F train towards Manhattan, getting off on 7th Avenue before walking down the street where Broadway Theatre appeared in her sight. 

Sighing, she thought about all the people she’d passed by. Seven train stops in total—people walking in and out of the train—less than ten minutes of walking, and despite the amount of people that rode with her on that train, she still felt like she was the loneliest person. 

She understood the big city quite well; no one really paid any attention or cared as they just proceeded with their life while simply being someone she passed by and possibly would never see again. Luci would only hope that her new job would help her make friendships and change her view on relationships a bit better; she’s had a few bad relationships in the past, romantic and non-romantic that had messed with her mind throughout the years, but she’d rather not think about the traumatic events that impactfully took a toll on her mental health as she was walking into rehearsals for the first time. 

Opening the door, she felt nerves rush through her body as she stepped into the Broadway Theatre where Miss Saigon would be in production for eight months. The theatre would be her home for the rest of the year. She’d work tirelessly, and devote her entire being to the role to be the best actress she could ever be. 

All at once as she walked through backstage, it began to hit Luci. This was what she’d been dreaming of, and the realization had hit her hard once she walked through the doors and into the dark hallway that led backstage and the dressing rooms. There was commotion in the direction of the main stage and a few of her fellow cast members that were singing, could easily be heard as she was walking through the halls. 

The behind the scenes action came to light once she walked through another doorway. Bright lights from the vanity illuminated the room, there were cast members reading from the script, and a few chatting on the couch. It was everything that she imagined and expected.

Luciana Suki was printed behind a black director’s chair next to the person who was playing the main role of Kim, Daisy Beck. Luci was a bit nervous to introduce herself to Daisy because she was one of the most iconic women on Broadway. She’d been acting on Broadway ever since she was a little girl; her mother was the head of the wardrobe crew and her father was part of the sound crew, so she practically bled and was born into the Broadway Theatre. It was easy for her to get her foot in the door because as her parents were busy, they would take her to the theatre and make her sit front row because they couldn’t afford a babysitter. And when the stage director needed a child to step in, they would have Daisy be in the show, and she would play the part effortlessly. She would stand center stage as the protagonist would sing to them while the bright light would shine upon them. Daisy Beck was a professional in all senses—she was the Meryl Streep of Broadway, and that intimidated Luci even more. 

“Hi, Daisy.” Luci greeted, making Daisy turn her head from the mirror to her. “I’m Luci, the second Kim.” She added with a soft chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Luci put her arm out as Daisy stood up from her chair, meeting face to face with her. 

Daisy’s expression held such power and confidence, and although Luci thought of herself as a confident person, Daisy was the different kind of confident; she was a different definition, a better use of a synonym that people most frequently use. She exuded the brilliance of self-assurance and certainty, like it was known to be that she had power. But then Daisy smiled brightly, making some of Luci’s worries wash away, but they were only stored nearby because the smile Daisy had on her face was more of an evil smirk. 

“Daisy Beck.” She introduced herself, quickly shaking Luci’s hand before pulling away just as quickly as the shake. Daisy sat back down at her vanity and placed her Airpods in her ears before her new cast member got another word out. 

Luci gulped, hanging her tote bag on the back of her chair before sitting down. She took a deep breath, easing her quiet nerves that were running around in her body. There was a bit of doubt in her mind about her career and the path she was on, but she quickly flicked it away, concentrating on the positive and the gratitude it took to get where she was, where she was sitting. 

After a few moments of relaxing, easing into the loudness, everyone began to file out the door and head to the stage. 

“Hi, Luci, right?” A brown-haired woman with hazel eyes beamed at Luci, and she couldn’t ignore such a friendly face. 

Luci smiled, shaking her hand. “Yeah, that’s me.” 

“I’m Nina. I play Gigi.” Gigi Van Trahn was a stripper in Miss Saigon at a club called Dreamland, hoping and dreaming for a better life in the States. “Is this your first Broadway show?” She asked curiously. 

Luci shook her head. “I’ve done some shows off-broadway, if you can count that.” She smiled bashfully. She knew that she shouldn’t be embarrassed by being part of the off-broadway community because she had worked her way up, but she hated the weird eyes pointed at her and the whispered judgement everytime she said that she’d been on off-broadway, even though nothing was wrong with it, but for some reason, people had a certain distaste towards it. 

“Yeah, that definitely counts! You should be proud of your upcoming; it’ll be historic once you move your way up.” Nina raised her brows and smirked. Luci smiled, breathing out a giggle. She loved when people were so hopeful of her climbing the ladder of success and dreams, and it made Luci giddy, if she was being honest. 

Everyone made a distorted line across the stage, facing the thousands of red velvet cushioned chairs that would be the cast’s audience. The stage director, Tal, was standing downstage with a clipboard in her hand as she was talking to her assistant and pointing to the clipboard with a pen; the taps of her pen to the wooden clipboard echoed in the silent theatre. Tal was in her mid-forties; she had slick black hair, wore black framed glasses, and had a certain look of sternness that was made for scolding and confronting. Luci made a mental note to not get on her bad side because if looks could kill, then she’d see the light. 

A minute later, they concluded their discussion before looking up. “Good morning, everyone! And we’re back here��again.” A coordinated laugh spread through the cast. “For the people returning: hope you all didn’t forget about me.” A small chuckle erupted. “But we have a couple new faces, so I’ll make this introduction brief and quick; I’m Tal, your stage director. I’ve been working in this business for a long time, so I know what I’m doing. This is my assistant Melanie, she’s just as educated and devoted to this play as I am, so if I’m unavailable, don’t hesitate to take things  up with her.” Everyone nodded understandingly. “This is going to be a wild, stressful ride, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot of fun, I can promise you that.” 

A few ‘Hell yeah and ‘Period’s flew across the stage as people praised her words. Luci immediately felt comfortable with the space and energy that came from her fellow castmates. She was worried that she would have a constant feeling of being uncomfortable or as if she didn’t belong. But with Nina being so friendly, Tal and the cast uplifting and motivating the room, and minus Daisy’s weird and short attitude, she couldn’t help but feel like she did belong and that this was where she was meant to be. 

Tal told everyone to get into a large circle to do a role call because there were a few new additions to the cast as the original cast before this day had departed from the production because there was either a better opportunity or it was time to say goodbye to this show. 

After Tal individually called each name, the person was to introduce themselves, say what part they were playing, and a hobby they indulged in when they were not on stage. Usually, people didn’t pay attention to icebreakers and introductions because many found them boring, but Luci made sure to be attentive and memorize everyone’s names and faces since she was one of the few who was new to the cast and production. She also tried remembering their hobbies because she figured it would be a great conversation starter while trying to make friends. 

It took quite a while to get to everyone, especially Luci since she was towards the bottom of the list because of her last name. 

“Luciana,” Tal called out. Luci raised her hand, presenting herself with a smile. “Welcome to Miss Saigon.” 

Luci stepped forwards a few inches inside of the circle. “Thank you, Tal and Melanie. Uh, my name is Luciana Suki, you could call me Luci, if you’d like. I’m playing Kim, alongside Miss Daisy Beck.” She looked at Daisy when she said her name, but Daisy had an unamused look on her face, but Luci ignored it. “A hobby of mine when I’m not constantly thinking about my job is knitting—I like to knit. Hats and scarves are my specialty and I have way too many in my closet for my own good, but I’m currently working on a cardigan and will do it for an hour if I have time.” Everyone clapped when she was done, and she stepped back out of the circle and into the line. 

Next on the role call list was Samuel Talum, who had been making serious eye contact with Luci, but she avoided them, looking elsewhere. 

“Hi, I’m Samuel. I play the second Chris. My hobbies include swimming on the roof of Soho.” Everyone laughed, but Luci didn’t seem to see what was so amusing about that, but she figured that was his personality since everyone found that hilarious. 

Samuel looked at Luci as he stepped back into line, and this time, she reciprocated the eye contact. Her arms were crossed, face expressionless, which only made him smirk. 

After introductions, Melanie suggested getting into groups to have a normal conversation to get to know one another and get more comfortable. The circle was concaving as the opposite sides were met. The theatre increased in volume and was filled with chatter and excited squeals; people hugged one another and jumped in circles, hopeful for another great season on Broadway. 

Luci and Nina talked with some of the extras as they mostly asked Luci about her life and where she was from since everyone already knew each other. 

“Hello, ladies.” Samuel walked up to the four women with a charming smile. The three immediately swooned for him as their eyes lit up as if he was the actual Oscar award himself. “Luci, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” He gave his full attention to her, taking his hand out. She politely shook his, not expecting him to kiss the back of her hand, locking eyes with her. She hated to admit it, but the action made her heart pound a little harder. Luci pulled away quickly, linking her hands behind her back. 

“Good to meet you as well.” She gave him a small toothless smile. Avoiding his eyes, she looked back at the girls who were blushing and giving Luci a knowing look. They knew Samuel well enough to know when he had a crush, and they could definitely tell that he had a crush on her, to which Luci had a clear vision of it. 

When the first day of ‘rehearsals’ were over, Tal announced that it was the same time tomorrow, and Luci was glad that she was finally had a routine again—waking up at eight in the morning to get her day started and leaving her apartment by nine to get to the theatre just before ten, which was when rehearsals started. Tomorrow’s rehearsals were going to be exciting since it would focus more on the play itself; Luci was itching for tomorrow to come. 

Once Luci walked out of the theatre, saying her goodbyes to Tal and Melanie, and some of the cast that she made friends with, she was met by a fresh, chilly breeze, making goosebumps rise. It was the complete opposite of what she felt like inside the theatre: warm and flushed because there were so many people surrounding her, plus her nerves helped her stay warm; it didn’t help that they cranked up the heat inside the building as well. 

As she was walking, passing by strangers that she’d never see again, she heard her name being called out from the distance. She thought she was hearing things, but she turned around to be met with Samuel who was jogging in her direction. 

“Damn, you left quickly.” He smiled, which Luci had to admit that he was quite attractive—really attractive. A head of soft blonde hair sat perfectly on his head that if she were to mess with it, his hair would only get effortlessly better. His arms were so big and toned that she could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt (or she thinks that he purposely bought a small shirt to make up for the lack of muscles). He was tall, almost a foot taller than her that she had to look up when he spoke, but she didn’t let his height intimidate her. In fact, nothing about Samuel intimidated Luci, although she knew that that was his ultimate goal whenever he met someone new.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I was thinking…we should hang out sometime.” The suggestion made Luci raise her brows. “You know, since we’re gonna be seeing each other a lot, be co-stars, play the love interest together.” 

Chris Scott, the role Samuel was playing, was a G.I sergeant who is making a return to America from Vietnam. Unexpectedly, he falls in love with Kim, who is a shy, young girl who also works as a stripper at Dreamland because of the fall of her city and the loss of her family from war. The club is run by the Engineer and caters to American soldiers. Kim and Chris have an affair, leading to feelings that are more than lust. Their affair leads to Kim getting pregnant and giving birth to their son, Tam. Eventually, Chris leaves and goes back home without the knowledge that Kim is pregnant. Kim and Chris are separated for years until he learns about his son, so he goes back to Vietnam to find Kim and Tam—the only difference is that he’s married to an American woman named Ellen. Kim urges Ellen that Tam should have a better life in America, rather than living on the streets, but Ellen is wary and refuses because she doesn’t want to lose Chris. Conflict, heartbreak, and unexpected endings flow throughout the plot of the story, making it a hit on Broadway. 

Luci debated in her mind. She figured she could use some friends, some company, and she thinks it worked out perfectly since she was going to be seeing Samuel almost everyday. He got the impression that she wanted nothing to do with him outside of the theatre because of the polite but dismissive attitude towards him, but the look on her face when he proposed the idea was the opposite of what he had seen inside of the building. 

To much consideration, Luci answered, “Sure, why not.” 

Samuel sneered, walking alongside with her to wherever their route took them. It wasn’t like he was up to no good—purposely, at least. So, the two walked side by side, oblivious to what this might cause them. 

April 21, 2017 

Opening night. 

The anxieties were crawling up everyone’s skin as they got into hair, makeup, and costume—specifically in that order. Everything felt rushed, like they were riding in a sports car, waiting to cross the black and white checkered line. But in reality, they were going the speed limit in a residential area. 

Tal and Melanie made sure everyone got to the theatre at least two hours before the red curtain rose because she didn’t want everything to feel like they’re in a high-speed car chase, anticipating a crash. 

The past five weeks had been an exhausting and intense thrill that Luci had never experienced before. The constant movement, the strain of her voice from singing too much, the tears from messing up a line, and the overwhelming fear of screwing up on stage had been her life for the past five weeks. 

The day after introductions and icebreakers, the cast were to do a read through of the play, just to get an idea and feel of the script when rehearsing it with the cast. Since there were two rotations of the cast, the second cast—which was the one Luci was in—were to still attend readings and rehearsals when it was not their day to rehearse. They were to observe and learn the different techniques and acting that the first rotation provided so it would be easier to run through rehearsals without constantly stopping. 

After the read through, which took two days, the rest of the week was followed by table work and blocking. Table work deeply goes into the script; it focuses on analyzing and getting to know your character—basically what purpose a character has. Blocking included roughly running through a scene organically, and seeing what works for both actors and what looks and feels better. 

When the notes have been written down, the actors will stumble through the play without a script in reach. This process had slashed a bit of hope in everyone because of the difficulty in remembering the notes from blocking. Luci was properly beating herself up over it, and Samuel had reassured her that it was fine to make a few mistake since it was new and added in during blocking.

“Hey,” Samuel would call out after hearing another groan come out of her mouth. Luci would look at him with a frown, and he would comfortingly pat her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? You got this.” He would then walk away, giving her a wink that made Luci’s insides turn. 

After three days of roughly stumbling through the play, working rehearsals were next. Everyone knew their lines, stage directions, the plot and depth of the characters, and the extra notes from blocking were implied to everyone’s brain. During working rehearsals, the cast needed to find a way to best tell the story to the audience. They worked in a large room that was a few blocks away from the theatre, and it had white tape all over the floor indicating where the character needed to stand. There was no mirror, just a blank wall that was painted black, so it was like they were in the actual theatre. The process was exhausting because the cast would run the entire play back for two more times for three days. So, when Luci got home, it would be five in the evening, and she would be ready to crash and call it a day. 

In between working and dress rehearsals, the tech-crew, stage directors, stage managers, and designers would have their own rehearsals without the cast. They do this to make sure the lighting, music, and set were in motion and work smoothly for the play and audience. During these days, the cast would get a few days off, but they were to not brush the play aside just because they weren’t in rehearsals. They were told to do fittings with the costume crew so they could make their final adjustments for their character’s costumes. It was a more fun and light process where they could just stand on the elevated step and answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ when they’re being asked if it was comfortable or too tight. 

After technical rehearsals, there would be two or three days for Q2Q rehearsals, which meant Cue-to-Cue, and the technical crew and the cast would get together and rehearse the bits where sound and lights were needed, which is almost every scene since it’s a musical and the characters seem to sing as they’re arguing. These rehearsals were very technical and necessary, and it needed to be executed with precision, so the cast and sound crew would be on the same page and in sync. 

Dress rehearsals were more of a sigh in relief. It showcased everyone’s hard work and talent, but it was also a surreal moment because even though they worked and rehearsed every single day for this production, it still didn’t seem real. The few days of dress rehearsals hit the actors in the face because everything was coming together. Tal had let a few groups of people into the theatre to watch and give them a preview of the show so the cast had an audience to perform to during dress rehearsals. 

And the moment everyone had been waiting for: Opening Night. 

The audience was filling the theatre in as security ushered them to their seats. Some took a picture in front of the stage, the influencers held the Playbill program out in front of them, capturing the renaissance theme of the Broadway theatre to post on their Instagram story, and couples who were there for date night. Not to forget, the important journalists, who hyped this play up way before opening night, that were going to critique and judge all throughout the show; they were sitting in the mezzanine, only the best seats in the house as it provided a panoramic view of the entire stage, so they didn’t miss a thing. Broadway critics could be the most hurtful writers, and they have a way of letting people down in the most elegant and sophisticated way that made it seem like their words aren’t so bad. 

Backstage was twice as chaotic as it was on the outside. Although everyone was quiet, humming and whispering the songs, the inside of their minds were driving them crazy. If someone outside of the production who didn't have anything to do with the play, walked into the room, they would immediately feel the tension bouncing off the walls and breaking the mirrors of the vanities. 

Even though it was the first rotation that would be performing today, Luci still felt incredibly nervous because anything could happen. Daisy could get sick or not want to perform, so it would be Luci who would have to step in, unless Tal tells the understudy to. Aside from the nerves, she felt incredibly proud of everyone and her own hard work. Rehearsing for about five hours—sometimes she would stay longer just to get extra help—had tired her out, but she knew that once it was her turn to step on stage, the exhaustion and stress would be completely worth it, and that would be when she knew she made it. 

Luci was in one of the dressing rooms, and she heard a knock as she was buttoning her shirt that was just for show when there was a zipper on the back of her top so it was easier to change when she was in a hurry. She opened the door, revealing Samuel. 

“Hi,” he greeted, getting in the dressing room with her before he closed it behind him. The space was small, so the two were pressed up against one another. He placed a hand on her waist as the other rested against the wall behind her, leaning down to kiss her lips. “How are you?” 

Luci smiled when he pulled away. “Good. You?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

“Better, now.” He kissed the top of her head and Luci softly smiled, not used to the amount of PDA, even though they were somewhat in private. 

Luci’s just as confused on how she was able to pull Samuel. After the first day of rehearsals when he caught up to her on the sidewalk and asked her to hangout, she found out that he was actually a really outgoing guy; she didn’t expect herself to laugh or actually enjoy herself when she said yes to his invitation. 

After the first week of rehearsals, Tal had directed them to be more connected to their characters—to really feel what they’re feeling. This only enhanced their chemistry as love interests, making them closer. And on Wednesday evening, Samuel invited her over to his apartment. He knew what he wanted when he asked Luci to his place, and he really didn’t want to mess with her feelings, so he decided to be honest. 

“Luci, listen. I just really want to fuck you,” he confessed straightforwardly, making Luci gulp. No one’s ever really admitted that fact to her, so it was quite surprising to hear as well as hot, if she was being honest. “I mean, I like you, of course I do. But I really don’t want a relationship right now, and we’re both stressed with rehearsals, so wanna fuck?” 

He was right, she thought. She was stressed with rehearsals and the move, which she hadn’t even gotten the chance to buy proper furniture because she’s been so busy and also broke, so she could use a good fuck. 

And she told him the same thing when she accepted his offer to hangout; she said, “Sure, why not.” 

So, they’d been messing around ever since then—for the past five weeks. They had kept it on the downlow as he respected Luci’s wishes for not wanting to risk losing her first job on Broadway and have this ‘affair’ affect getting more roles. Samuel reassured her that people date and mess around off stage all the time—Luci raised her brows in suspicion since it was not his first rodeo—but he still kept the affection to a minimum when they were around people, no matter how difficult it was for him. 

He leaned down to kiss her neck, leaving small kisses. “Hmm. Can’t wait to take you back to mine after tonight.” Samuel toyed with the zipper that was stitched on the back of her top. 

“Yeah?” She smirked when he felt him nod against her. 

He lightly nibbled her skin, making her softly gasp. “Gonna make you feel so good.” As lovely as that sounded, she couldn’t risk getting caught in the dressing room, so she pushed him away, earning a small groan that came out of his mouth. 

“How about you save that for next week when it’s our actual opening night?” She said seductively, biting her lip as she refrained from laughing at his eager state. 

“Fine, if you say so. Just know that you’re missing out tonight.” He teased, giving her a peck to her lips before quickly slipping out of the dressing room before anyone saw him. 

Luci looked in the mirror, fixing her hair and taking a deep breath to rid the warmth of her cheeks that Samuel caused. Once she was presentable, smoothing out the creases of her costume, she headed out and heard that there was ten minutes until showtime. 

Everyone was running around with a small flashlight that guided them through the dark backstage. The cast were getting last minute adjustments to their costume and makeup, a last minute run-through with their lines, and warming their vocals up as some of the technical crew were taping a small microphone to the side of their cheek. 

The second rotation cast stayed back, hanging out for moral support for the main cast as it was a huge night for them. Luci was somewhat glad that she wasn’t part of the first cast because she felt like she could still use a lot of work in some scenes, so she had at least a week to get those scenes perfect. 

As the crew walked back, Luci could hear the crew talk to one another through their headset, asking one another if things were set and if everyone was ready to go; the seats were mostly filled, just a few empty seats that were waiting to be filled by the people who were running late. 

“Ready.”

“All set.” 

“Alright, everyone, it’s showtime.” 

The lights went down for a brief minute and a half, making sure the theatre was quiet from people being excited and startled when the room had gone dark, and then the red velvet curtains were pulled to the sides of the stage and the sheer screen was lifted. The orchestra began to play a soft melody as the opening scene started in Dreamland Bar. 

Despite having seen the play multiple times during rehearsals and rehearsing it herself, she was in awe as she watched her cast members in action—true action with an audience in front of them and a very bright light that was shining directly on them. Luci had seen many Broadway productions, but getting to watch it from the side of the stage and actually being part of the production was just something so surreal to her. 

The final scene was coming to an end; the orchestra intensified their music, the lights dimmed, the curtain closed, and the audience clapped—most of the room had given Miss Saigon a standing ovation. The curtain opened once more and the cast ran out to wave and blow kisses at the audience as the volume increased once it had gotten to Daisy Beck, the icon herself. 

And just like that, five weeks of rehearsals and devotion, opening night was over. Luci couldn’t wait until next week because she could practically see the thrill and adrenaline that radiated off of her co-worker’s face, and that was a feeling she had been anticipating for. 

Luci hugged the cast, congratulating them on their special, opening night. Everyone took pictures and videos with one another as they held bouquets of flowers. 

“Daisy!” Luci called out once she approached her. Daisy turned around to be met with Luci’s arms wide open. She gave an emotionless smile, half-hugging Luci shortly as she only leaned her upper body against her but pulled away very quickly. “You did such an amazing job. I was so in awe of you on stage!” Luci exclaimed excitedly. 

“Thank you.” Just like any other actor, no matter how much someone despised a person, they always took the compliment no matter what; it helped their egos grow in size, especially if it was from someone they couldn’t stand. 

“You’re truly so magnificent up there…” As Luci was talking, Daisy’s eyes averted towards the corner where Samuel was standing; he was talking with some of the girls that played strippers at the club in the show. His eyes looked up, meeting Daisy’s eyes before he smirked and brought his attention back to the girls. The corner of her lip turned up, smirking as she felt herself blush from Samuel’s look. 

Daisy and Samuel had some history together in the past. They go way back, all the way back to five years ago when they had roles in Chicago on Broadway. Just like any other cast members, they took a liking towards each other, and eventually got quite close. They both thought that their feelings were plain lust, but it was more of an emotional connection, so they tried being together and it lasted for a while until there were scandals and rumors going around that Daisy had been taking drugs just because she was seen partying with Samuel. The rumors eventually caught up to her, making her skin crawl and blood boil. So, she needed to be selfish and called it quits with him because her career was her pride and joy, and it was the most important thing to her at the time when she was just twenty-two. 

When Daisy found out that Samuel was on board as the cast in Miss Saigon, she was absolutely thrilled because her feelings for him had never dissolved. And the main reason why she was annoyed with Luci on her first day was because she knew that Samuel was going to take a liking towards Luci, which he did; and now, Daisy was aggravated because she wanted her man back but he was too busy occupying himself with Luci. 

Daisy looked back at Luci, pretending to pay attention to what she was saying. Luckily, someone had politely interrupted them, asking Daisy to do an interview with one of the journalists that critiqued the show, which she was ecstatic about. 

When the theatre was empty, everyone left to go to an after party, which was at a posh cocktail lounge—a ten minute walk from the theatre and quite close to Central Park South—so everyone decided to walk; the adrenaline they still had kept them warm in the thirty six degree weather. It was quite late since they left the theatre at around eleven, so Luci decided that she wouldn’t stay long since her commute back home was still further than some of her co-workers. 

The lounge was on the seventh floor of the W Hotel, and it screamed chic and expensive. It was separated into two open rooms, giving complete opposite vibes from each other. The more sophisticated and chic section of the room was filled with grey suede, cushioned sofa chairs with clean glass coffee tables placed in between those chairs. A black grand piano sat in the corner of the room with a large vase of fresh pink lilies and a few vanilla scented candles that were spread across the top of the piano. On one side of the wall were three semi-private booths with cushioned walls and a hexagon-shaped booth with LED lights surrounding the shape. 

The second room, however, was where the full bar was. Something that caught Luci’s, and most people’s, attention was the bright sign that covered the entire wall behind the bar top and the bottles of alcohol. The light blue and red colored lights illuminated the entire section of the room. The bar room had the same type of sofas and tables with a chill-beat type of music that played through the speakers. 

Peter, who played the first ‘Chris,’ had ordered everyone tequila shots; which naturally, made everyone happy as they cheered. Luci couldn’t remember the last time she went to the bar with some friends and completely enjoyed herself; all that had been on her mind before the move was the move itself, auditioning for the play, and her anxieties that came with moving to a city where she knew no one. So, a shot of tequila was very rewarding for her first proper night out in New York City. 

“To a successful opening night! We’re gonna be back here when the second rotation gets their spotlight.” Peter saluted as everyone clinked their shot glasses together; Nina took a video of her and Luci to post on her Instagram story with Luci’s username and the longue tagged in the corner before downing the toxic liquid down their throats.  

Everyone talked amongst themselves when Samuel placed his hand on Luci’s thigh. She quickly turned her head towards him, subtly pushing his hand off of it. He met her eyes, smirking and tilted his head as if he was saying that they should go into the bathroom, but Luci shook her head no, denying his silent request. Samuel rolled his eyes, averting his attention on the rest of the group, and Luci didn’t miss the way he shifted farther from her on the couch. 

Luci was four shots in and she felt a slight buzz run through her head. The waiters were placing more drinks down on their table, but Luci knew she needed to get home, so she decided to call it a night and say her goodbyes to the group. She knew everyone lived relatively close to the theatre and the longue, so she didn’t expect anyone to take the subway with her so late in the night. What she did expect was for Samuel to offer her to spend the night or even walk her to the train station, but he simply waved at her, no private hug or kiss goodbye. So, she left without another word and walked over to the 57th Street Station and took the F Train down to Rockefeller Center where she had to get off and transfer over to the M Train that would take her towards Middle Village-Metropolitan Avenue, and eventually, home. 

On the train, Luci busied herself with a word search that was downloaded on her phone, afraid that she might end up falling asleep on the subway, until the subway stopped at the station she needed to get off at and walked home. 

The click of her heeled boots were quite loud against the wooden floor in the hallway that led to her front door. She lugged her tote bag on her shoulder, fumbling with her keys until she got to her doorstep. Briefly glancing at the neighbor’s door right across from her before turning her back towards it and opening her own, the door behind her suddenly opened. 

Luci quickly turned around, expecting her cute and attractive neighbor, but instead, revealed a woman with red hair, hurriedly putting her coat on. The woman smiled at her, and for a moment, Luci thought she was on the wrong floor, but behind the woman was Harry in a black long sleeve sweater and khaki flared pants. His chocolate brown hair had looked like he ran his fingers through it so many times that it sat effortlessly messy, but Luci didn’t know that the red-haired lady had done it for him. 

She was quite in shock to see him, even though she’d known he lived right across from her. For the time she had been living in New York, she’d barely even gotten a glimpse of him; either their schedules weren't aligned or he was avoiding her. It wasn’t like she was trying to catch him when he walked out of his apartment or in the elevator—maybe she was—but a few neighborly chats were all that she wanted. 

“Hi,” Luci greeted once the woman rounded the corner and away from both of their attentions. 

“Hey, Luci.” Harry softly smiled. 

They both stood in their entryways, awkwardly staring at one another as they didn’t know what else to say. The neighborly chats had gone so much better in her head, and she was mentally rolling her eyes at herself for freezing up so suddenly. 

But luckily, Harry broke the silence. 

“Long night?” 

Luci smiled. “Yeah, kind of. Just came from an afterparty.” 

“Hmm, what was the party for?” Harry raised his chin, puckering his lips slightly. Luci glanced down at his lips, observing how naturally pink they were, or if the lady’s lipstick had transferred over to his. 

She was quite surprised that he was still carrying the conversation, or maybe he was just as nosy as she was. 

“It was for Miss Saigon, the play on Broadway. Today was our official opening night.” She fiddled with her fingers, completely leaning her side against the doorframe. 

Harry slightly nodded. “I’d have to watch it sometime.” 

Now, that brightened Luci up, almost sobering her. She beamed at him, and Harry couldn’t deny the slight blush that appeared on his face once she so stunningly smiled at him. He pursed his lips, refraining from smiling so widely just from the mere sight of her grin. 

“Yes, please do!” He smiled at her excitement before nodding his head. 

A few awkward seconds passed, and Luci had the need to lie down after the day that she had. So, she sat straight up from her leaning position, placing her hand where she was resting to balance herself. “Well, I should get some rest.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He stood up straight as well, taking a step back into his apartment as his hand held the door handle. “Sleep well, Luci.” 

“You too, Harry. Goodnight.” A yawn took over her and she covered her mouth instantly. “Oh, Harry?” She called out, catching him before he closed the door. He raised his brows, her voice stopped him from shutting the door. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? I could use some friends and you seem really nice,” she suggested. 

Maybe it was the slightest buzz that was wearing off, making her have the need to use up all the rest of the confidence she could gather up in her body and spew out the suggestion. 

But whatever it was, she was glad that she did because Harry answered, “I’d like that.” She gave him a lazy smile, eyes drooping, and Harry knew that she needed to sleep. 

After another bid goodnight, the neighbors both closed their doors for a night’s rest, but not before they both smiled into their pillow and replayed their conversation over and over in their head. 

April 29, 2017 

It was Saturday evening when Luci walked into the Broadway Theatre with the biggest smile she’d ever made in her life. Ignoring the nerves, she was back in the chaos and nervous tension the large theatre held for her very first Broadway show. 

She spent the entire day preparing herself just so everything went smoothly. Her alarm woke her up at 7:30 a.m so she could take a walk around the neighborhood for a fresh start to her day. The sky started out as gloomy while the sun was just waking up as well; and the parts of the neighborhoods that she passed were quiet—the only thing that was heard were the honking cars over the birds flapping their wings above her—since it was the weekend and everyone loved sleeping in on the weekend. 

Luci was still discovering new things, such as stores, dining, and secret passageways while her Nike running shoes padded against the cement of the sidewalk; that's what she loved about New York—there was always something new she’d discover in this city, and it was a never ending journey that never failed to make her gasp and giddy. 

She stopped at a smoothie place before walking back to her apartment; and when she got to her front door, she looked at Harry’s, which she seemed to make a habit out of every time she walked in and out of her apartment, and she wondered if he was awake at this time—he seemed like a morning person, she thought. She debated knocking on his door before she left to go to the theatre to tell her that she was finally performing tonight, but she decided against it, wanting to hang out with him at some place else rather than her workplace. 

After making herself a breakfast to go along with her drink, she took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her skin and body since today was such an important day for her; she wanted to feel good so she could look good, especially for tonight. 

In between brunch hours, her mother called, making her squeal. 

“Hello, mother!” She couldn’t contain her excitement over the phone. 

“Oh, hi, My Lucky! How are you?” Luci could hear the bustling street through the phone as they walked through the city. Ren and Beatrice had flown into New York to watch her on stage as promised; Nathan was planning to fly into the city after work as well. Luci offered to pick them up at the airport, which required a car that she didn’t have, but they decided against it, knowing that she had a specific routine before a show and they didn’t want to interfere with that pattern. 

“Oh, y’know, just doing nothing. Boring, plain, old me,” she joked, making Beatrice chuckle. 

“How’re you handling your nerves?” 

Beatrice always knew that inside the confident exterior that Luci had always presented herself with, there was still a shy and nervous girl that was always so hard on herself. 

“I’m okay, Ma. More excited than nervous, I think, but y’know, once it’s minutes away from showtime, I’m gonna be a nervous mess,” Luci stated honestly, nibbling on the corner of her lip. She got herself comfortable on her forest green sofa that turned into a bed, and draped the tan, soft plush blanket over her legs. Her apartment was finally coming together, and she was thankful for her few days off of work so she could make her apartment feel like home. 

“I know you’ll do great. Plus, all of us are gonna be in the crowd supporting you.” Beatrice encouraged her. “Anyways, I can’t walk and talk at the same time, especially when we’re walking through people, but I just wanted to check up on you. So, I’ll let you go and we’ll see you later! Oh, your father says hi and that he loves you. Bye, my star. Shine your heart.” 

Her mother always talked like she was in a hurry, but it never failed to make Luci smile—it was as if Luci was listening to a voicemail, or remembered a fond memory, or looking at a photograph; Beatrice was a timeless treasure, Ren would say. 

The rest of the day went by smoothly; Luci mostly watched some television on her iPad since she didn’t have a TV yet, caught up on some reading, and lightly went through her lines and quietly sang the songs. Once it hit 3:30, she was out the door and on the subway by 3:45. 

When she walked into the dressing room where everyone was getting ready, her cast members looked at her warily with sympathetic eyes. Luci was confused, but she figured that everyone was just nervous, so she sat down at her vanity and was surprised to see Daisy sitting next to her. She thought that Daisy wouldn’t be here for Luci’s opening night and she was more surprised to see that Daisy was getting ready as she didn’t just want to stand on the sidelines, waiting for Luci to screw up to step right in. 

“Hey,” Luci greeted with a smile, but Daisy simply ignored her, going back to do her makeup. Luci slightly frowned but shrugged it off before she sat down. 

A few moments later, Tal came into the dressing room. 

“Luci,” she called out, making her look up into the mirror, meeting Tal’s eyes. “Can we talk for a minute?” Luci nodded, eyes slightly widening like she was a deer in headlights. She followed Tal out of the dressing room and into a more private room down the hall. 

She crossed her arms as a breeze passed by, sending a chill down Luci’s skin and she wished she had grabbed her jacket on the way out. “What’s up?” 

Tal took a deep breath, not knowing how to break the news to her newest cast member. “So, there’s been a change for tonight,” she started, and Luci wondered if Samuel wasn’t going to play Chris tonight but instead, Peter or the understudy, Michael. Tal looked up, thinking about her words carefully and how to say her words as gently as possible. “Daisy is gonna perform tonight.” 

She wished she hadn’t spoken so soon on how smoothly her day was going. 

Luci stared at her mindlessly, blinking a few times. She felt like she was hearing things or dreaming, like her words hadn’t processed correctly in her brain. But when Tal was giving her a certain look of guilt, that was when Luci knew that her mind wasn’t making anything up. 

“W-What?” 

“I know it was supposed to be your night to perform, but Daisy said that she wanted to perform tonight…” Luci could tell that Tal was holding back on more information. “She said that she doesn’t feel like she needed to rest, so she’s gonna perform every night until she says so.” 

Tears were forming over Luci’s eyes and it suddenly became difficult for her to see or hear. She curled her lips into her mouth, refraining a sob that was settling in the base of her throat. 

“She knows, right? That it’s my night to perform?” 

Tal nodded. “Yeah, she knows quite clearly. I even reminded her, and we got into this argument; she basically told me to choose between her and you, and-” 

“It’s okay,” Luci interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence because she knew that Tal had chosen Daisy, which she didn’t blame Tal for doing because why would anyone choose between the face of Broadway and some actress that no one even knows about? Tal knew that she didn’t have any power over Daisy even though it was Tal’s show and she was the stage director. 

“Luci, I’m sorry. You’re free to go home though, if anyone is gonna step in, then it’ll be Wendy.” Daisy told Tal that she’d rather have the understudy step into her place if anything happened, and who was Tal to say no to her?

Luci nodded sadly, putting her head down for a moment before she looked up. Tal had the same look Luci had on her face because Tal genuinely felt bad that this had to happen. Luci walked away and back into the dressing room to once again, meet everyone’s dreadful stare. She grabbed her belongings, and Daisy pretended to not notice that Luci was there. 

She felt a surge of anger running through her body as she looked at Daisy, and she was not one to let things happen to her without defending herself. What she was going to do could possibly cause Luci her job and maybe any role that she comes across her path because that’s how much power Daisy had, but the power Daisy exposed and portrayed didn’t make her any more powerful than she thought it did. 

“If you’re the reason that’s depriving me of my job, then how about you tell me that. Don’t have people doing that for you because if you really wanted me out of the show, then you would’ve told that to my face right when you met me.” Daisy continued looking into the mirror, but she was alert to Luci’s words. Everyone in the room was silent, listening to the confrontation happening right in front of them. “Just sitting there and not having the urge to look me in the eye and tell me yourself is just downright cowardness.” 

Without another word, Luci left the room, passing by Nina on the way out, asking if she was okay and Luci muttered ‘Yeah, fine’ before huffing out a sarcastic laugh and walking out of the theatre. She felt bad for giving her friend such a cold and short attitude, and she only hoped Nina understood why she was acting that way.

Suddenly, everything felt very…loud. On the outside, there were honking cars, people shouting at those road ragers, and the harsh wind that blew through her ears. All of that contributed to the loud thoughts running through her head, the disappointment of her hopes had made her feel dizzy, and the heartache of her crushed dreams had made her heart sink. Everything had gone smoothly up until now, and she hated herself for thinking this was all too good to be true. 

Luci clutched at her chest as if she was holding her heart in the palm of her hand, signaling it to slow down its erratic beating because she couldn’t keep up. If she had felt heartbreak in the past by dumb boys who didn’t know how to treat her right, the pain that she felt did not compare to having her dream being crushed and ripped away from her in the split of a second. 

Sure, she may be dramatic in that moment, but it was everything that she was feeling and it was a valid feeling. She felt like the world was against her and she was perplexed on how to operate this minor section of her life. 

“Luci?” Through the midst of her chaotic and saddened mind, the voice that called her sounded quite familiar. She turned around, finding Harry standing a distance away from her before he walked forward. 

“Harry…” Her tone was calm as she breathed out a sigh of relief, but her exhale was staggered. Tears glossed over her eyes, making her neighbor and the bright lights blurry, only seeing colored spots until she blinked and her vision cleared up as the tears streamed down her face. 

“I thought it was you. Aren’t you—oh.” Harry was interrupted by the collision of her body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, loudly sobbing in his chest. Usually, she wasn’t like this; she wasn’t one to cry in front of people or show any emotion that she was truly hurt—it just wasn’t her. But she could no longer pretend like the events that happened prior didn't happen, and she really needed some comfort, a hug, anything. 

Luci felt his hesitancy when his arms wrapped around her body, and she felt bad for hugging him without permission, but her comfort had taken priority. When he eventually did take her fragile and shaking body in his arms, it did everything she was looking for justice. The embrace was warm, even when it was cold and windy out; the hug seemed to have warmed both of them up. A sense of safety, and a complete sigh of relief came to mind where Luci felt like she could take a breather for a slight moment. His strong, muscular arms wrapped so perfectly around her that Harry felt like it was him who needed this hug instead of her, but he wouldn’t admit that because she was clearly being vulnerable in front of him, despite just talking less than a handful of times. 

She pulled away, and he suddenly missed the warmth of her body for a split second before his attention turned to her wiping her tears away. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked concerningly. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry for just hugging you out of nowhere, I-I should’ve asked.” Harry stared deeply in her eyes, and even in the state that she was in, her eyes were still bright; the lucidity of the bright lights outside of the theatre sparkled in her eyes, and it made him smile at how beautiful she looked even when she was crying. 

He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that he hadn't answered her yet. “No, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Just…are you okay?” His concern for her made her feel slightly better. 

“I’m good now. Uh, thank you for the hug,” she said bashfully; he gave her a soft smile, nodding his head. “W-What are you up to tonight?” 

“Oh, uh,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I actually came to watch the play. You mentioned you were in it right?”

Luci’s expression softened. “You came to see me?” She felt like she could cry all over again at the fact that he was at Broadway Theatre to see her perform; her heart flipped instantly. Harry nodded, placing his hands in his black pinstripe trousers. “Well, it’s a good thing you caught me out here before you went in because you’d be disappointed to not see me when the show starts.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “It’s a long story…if you have time?” 

Immediately, Luci knew she wanted to keep spending time with him, and she hoped he felt the same. Plus, she was in a vulnerable state, and she needed someone to be with her. 

Harry was hesitant at first, but he realized that she probably needed to vent to someone, so he responded, “Yeah, sure.” 

She smiled softly, wiping the excess tears off her face before walking further away from the theatre; Luci texted her parents and brother in the family group chat saying: not performing tonight :( so I won't be at the theatre. I'll explain later. Seconds later, they blew up her phone with a thread of ‘WHAT?!’ and naturally, Nathan sent a series of curses, making Beatrice scold him in the chat for his language.  

Harry and Luci walked until they landed on a Burger & Fry joint near Times Square. The sound of food made her mouth water, especially after crying; she needed to replenish and hydrate herself. 

The two sat in a pink leather booth; the restaurant had a decent amount of people for a Friday night because the volume of chatter was heard over the music blaring through the speaker. It was a somewhat retro-themed diner with checkered flooring, a jukebox in the corner for show, and the wardrobe the employees were wearing; it was a fun and cool vibe. 

Harry and Luci felt a bit awkward; they both weren’t expecting to end up in a diner together when they were supposed to be inside the theatre. They both avoided eye contact, looking around the very pink restaurant before a waitress arrived at their table and took their order. 

From what Luci could tell, Harry was a quiet and shy guy, but that was just an observable trait, which was half-correct. But the only reason why he was shy was because Harry was closed off and didn’t let too many people in, so sitting down with Luci at a diner—someone he'd only spoken with a couple of times—was very new to him. 

He fiddled with his rings—her personal favorite was the square Ruby gemstone with a gold band—and she knew that she needed to say something quick before he'd never talk to her again. 

“So, Harry, can I ask what you do for a living?” His head propped up from looking at the bubbles from his soda in his Coca Cola glass cup. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m a middle school teacher. I teach Language Arts.” 

“Fun! How long have you been teaching?” Luci placed her elbows on the table, interlocking her fingers as she rested her chin on her hands, giving him her full attention. 

“For about eight months.” He told her the basics of his life, not voluntarily, but because Luci asked an abundance of questions and was genuinely interested in his life. 

She learned that he was from Manchester where his sister and mother live and his father lived in Birmingham. He has a cat, which his mom had been taking care of ever since he left to go to college in America. He went to UCLA, becoming a double major in English and Education, which led him to wanting to become a teacher in the midst of essays and research. He decided to stay in America, ending up in New York for the change of scenery (Luci could tell there was more to that story than he led on), and was fortunate enough to get a job at East Side Middle School in Manhattan. 

Harry also mentioned that the four stacks of grading piles had gone down to one, finally being able to have a Friday night free, so he wanted to watch the play. Luci’s lips twitched up, but she curled her lips into her mouth, suppressing a large smile into a small one as she thanked him for wanting to spend his free time watching the show. 

He’d never talked that much, Harry thought. In between his stories and facts about himself, the food had arrived and Luci was still asking him questions. It wasn’t like he minded; he appreciated Luci being so attentive and interested in his life as a way to make small talk and make friends, but those were just the basics that he would tell anyone if they asked. 

Harry then asked how long she’d been acting for and on Broadway. Luci told him that her career started when she was six and had been acting ever since. She shared her aspirations and dreams; becoming part of Broadway was her first dream, which she somewhat achieved, and Hollywood was her next stop whenever the time was right. Harry poured the same energy she did, asking questions and interacting with her answers to those questions. 

Her mood seemed to decline as she explained why she was outside of the theatre crying. 

“It just felt like she ripped my dream from me and ripped it apart. I-I don’t even know when I’m gonna get my chance to perform.” Her lips turned downwards as she felt a new set of tears glaze her eyes, but she pushed them back, not wanting to cry again. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it’ll be soon, and whenever that happens, I’ll be there to see you perform on your opening night,” Harry said genuinely; and Luci felt like she could cry all over again, not because of the destruction of her dream that happened in two minutes, but because Harry was possibly one of the sweetest guys she’s ever met. 

He surprised himself with his words, but he meant them. Throughout their conversations and getting to know one another, he felt himself relax a bit more, shoulders slumping. He realized that Luci was a very ambitious and motivated woman, making him admire her quality traits; she was also very easy to talk to, slightly chuckling at a joke that she made because he appreciated badly-made jokes since he made them himself. But maybe he’ll bring out the jokes another time when they hang out again. 

After an hour of staying at the diner and chatting with their table completely cleaned off besides the last-minute decision to order milkshakes, they finally decided to head home. They split the bill—only because it was fair and this unexpected night wasn’t a date—before they got on the subway towards home. They sat on opposite sides of each other, which Luci wasn’t expecting, but when Luci got on the subway cart and took her seat, Harry sat right across from her. 

Once they both reached their respective doors, they gave each other a small smile before mimicking each other’s actions as they turned the key and opened their doors at the same time. Taking one step in, they turned around, standing in their doorways just like all the other times they’d bid their goodbyes to one another. 

“Thank you for tonight, Harry. I really appreciate you being there for me, even if you didn’t have to.” Luci said, leaning against the doorframe. 

He nodded. “You’re welcome. Thank you for a great night as well. I had fun.” His statement made her face lighten up. “Well, goodnight, Luci.” He walked further into his apartment as did she, and she softly waved at him before they closed their doors. 

Despite not performing tonight, her night with Harry wouldn’t have happened if the unfortunate events were fortunate. 

And that was the most positive thing that came out of tonight, and she was really focusing on the positives now. 

come talk to me about your feelings, thoughts, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3 next chapter will be posted next saturday!

[beauvibaby]

love you like I used to - a.beauvillier

requested [] yes [x] no

song: love you like I used to - russell dickerson

Tito stood at the foot of the bed, his suitcase freshly packed, his eyes landed on your finally sleeping figure, your hand hanging over the edge of the bed and into your son's bassinet. He smiled at the sight, moving to place the card he had written for you on the nightstand, right underneath the monitor to your daughters room so he was certain you’d see it. He carefully grabbed your hand, moving it onto the bed, “bye, my love.” Tito whispered, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s time already?” You whispered, peeking your eyes open at him. He nodded softly, pressing a kiss to you pouted lips, “I’ll be back before you know it.” He mumbled, “I love you.” He added, hushed, not wanting to wake Nick, the one month old finally being asleep. “I love you.” You responded sleepily, “don’t forget to say bye to Grace.” You called softly, he rolled his eyes teasingly at you in the doorway, you knew he wouldn’t but all last night Grace kept telling him to say goodbye to her in the morning, even though you both knew she’d sleep through it, you considered yourself lucky to have such a heavy sleeper for a toddler. You watched him walk into her room on the monitor, carefully squatting down beside her toddler bed, he moved her frizzy hair back, kissing her little forehead. “I love you, baby girl.” He mumbled, and just like you thought, she didn’t even budge, he stood to his full height and blew a kiss to the camera knowing you were watching. The second you heard the front door shut behind him, you were back to sleep, knowing you’d need as much of it as you could get.

Finally when Nick woke you up, you spotted the envelope on your nightstand, you furrowed your eyebrows as you reached over to get it, cradling your son to your chest. You pulled it open, sliding the card out and you could already feel the tears building in your eyes just from the cover. “I didn’t forget” printed in bold red letters on the front, you flipped it open,

“happy anniversary, ma chérie, I’m sorry I won’t be there, and no amount of sappy words I could write in here would make up for that. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try! I didn’t think I could love you anymore than I did, but then you agreed to be my wife, and then, when I thought my heart couldn’t grow anymore, you gave me two of the best little blessings. Everyday I love you more than I did the day before, and I’ll continue to love you more everyday for the rest of our lives. Thank you for doing all that you do and being the most amazing wife and mother to our kids, I’ll see you when I get back… I love you.”

You scrambled to grab your phone, praying you’d catch him before the plane took off, you quickly dialed the FaceTime call, you had a rule, once you had Grace and he was nervous something would happen when he was away, you only did a normal call if there was an emergency, otherwise it was FaceTime. He answered almost instantly, “Y/N?” He questioned, concern evident on his face, you never called him this early on in a roadie, let alone with tears in your eyes. “I love you, and the card was perfect.” You spoke, his worries melting away when he realized that’s why you were crying. “You scared me.” He chuckled softly, smiling when you adjusted the phone to show Nick laid in your arm. “We won’t keep you, good luck tonight, we’ll call before the game.” You told him, smiling down at the baby, your bedroom door creaked open, “mommy, I don’t feel good.” Grace called, speaking as well as she could for her young 3 year old self, her little voice trembling, you held in a sigh. “Come here baby.” You waved her in, “did you want to say bye to daddy again?” You questioned, hoping it would distract her for a moment, she nodded eagerly, but still sluggishly climbing into the bed. You allowed her to hold your phone out in front of her face, “daddy!” She grinned, Tito mirrored her face, “hi, princess.” He laughed, Mat popping his head in the frame. “Hi, little lady.” He smiled, Grace squealed in excitement, “mommy, it’s uncle!” She gasped, showing you the phone, you looked up from Nick who was beginning to get fussy. “I see, but they need to go to work, so say goodbye.” You told her with a smile, she went to speak but instead, she threw up, all over you, and Nick. Instantly both of your kids started crying, “oh boy, I’ll let you go, babe, love you.” Tito rushed to get off the phone. “Love you too.” You had to force yourself to laugh under your breath, knowing the four days he would be gone would suddenly be a whole lot longer. “I’m sorry!” Grace cried when you looked at her, “no, baby it’s ok.” You assured her, trying to decide where to start with this mess.

***

“Seems like Y/N is gonna have her hands full.” Mat commented once the plane took off, “don’t remind me, I don’t know how she does it by herself, I can barely do it with her there.” Tito sighed, glaring at his friend, wondering why he’d even make such a comment. “Sorry.” Mat put his hands up in surrender, “I bet, uh, you know what, nevermind.” Mat started to speak but when Tito gave him a warning glance he decided against it. “Isn’t it your anniversary tomorrow?” Mat couldn’t help but blurt out, Tito sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Yes, Mathew, it is.” He grumbled, “I already handled that.” He added, Mat nodded with pursed lips, “you didn’t have to use my full name you know.” Mat muttered, rolling his eyes as he stopped the flight attendant, asking for some waters. Her eyes lingered on Tito for a moment too long, “that’s all.” Tito spoke since Mat decided to go silent in that moment. “Great, I’ll be right back.” She walked, with a definite sway in her hips, Tito rolled his eyes at the sight, making sure he took his water with his left hand, steel ring on full display.

***

You chewed your lip, carefully setting down Nick on his boppy to sleep, Grace curled into your other side, finally having cried herself to sleep after a few more times of being sick, you placed a hand on her forehead, frowning when you could clearly tell she has a fever. “Oh, baby girl.” You sighed, sliding out from under her, replacing your lap with a pillow, she didn’t stir, and you quietly rushed to the kitchen, phone in tow to call Tito while you got a cold rag for her. You propped the phone up on the counter while it rang, “hey, love.” His voice came over the screen, his face popping up a moment later and you sighed in relief, his voice alone calming you down. “Hi.” You sighed, giving him the look, the tired mom look. “How is everything?” He questioned softly, you shook your head, the wave of nausea hitting you like a truck. “She’s thrown up four times, she’s got a fever and I’m fairly certain I’ve caught whatever she has and how am I not going to pass that on to the baby? Tito, oh my god I can’t get the baby sick.” You rambled, words mixing together as you leaned on the counter, “I’m sorry, we’re fine, don’t worry about us.” You added quickly, eyes focusing on the way he was looking at you, “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll be home in three days, and I promise then you’ll get to rest for as long as you want.” He sighed, giving you a lazy smile, “I know, thank you.” And just like clock work, Grace came padding into the kitchen. “Come here, Gracie Lou.” You sighed, holding your hands out for her, she smiled at the nickname, one your father had dubbed on her.

She wrapped her little arms around your neck, legs squeezing your sides. “Hi, baby girl.” Tito mumbled, smiling as she lazily looked at him, “daddy.” She pouted, the tears building in her eyes. “Grace, don’t cry princess, I’ll be home in three days, you won’t even know I’m gone.” He spoke soothingly, you rubbed her back, “I want daddy.” She cried into your shoulder, “I know honey.” You sighed, this trip was starting out terribly, and it wasn’t so much what was happening at home that bothered you, it was how Tito was having bad phone call after bad phone call. “I’ve gotta go.” He sighed, running a hand over his face, as he held up a finger to whoever had just walked into his room. “Grace,” he spoke and she looked at him with a snotty nose and red eyes, “I need you to do something for me baby.” He told her and she nodded suddenly intrigued by having a task. “Can you be a good girl for mommy? And if your extra good, we’ll go for ice cream when I get back.” He smiled, you rolled your eyes but smiled as she happily agreed, already having more spunk in her attitude. “I loooooooooove you.” She spoke, this was their game, she would drag out the word, challenging him to do it longer, and we all know who won every time, but she loved it no matter what. “I loooooooooooooooove you.” Tito responded, smiling in success when she hid back in your shoulder, “and I loooove you too, mama.” He spoke to you, “I love you too.” You smiled, ending the call so he could get back to getting ready for the game.

***

You all but ran down the steps, baby monitor in hand, both of the kids were asleep, which meant you got some glorious time alone with Tito, he was opening the door as you bounded off the last step. “Tito!” You whisper shouted, running over to him, he dropped his bags in record time, arms outstretched as you reached him. “I love you so much, god I’m so happy to be back.” He mumbled into your hair, all but squeezing the life out of you as you cried into his shoulder. “I missed you.” You sniffled out, moving to pull him in for a kiss. “I love you, the card was all I needed, but thank you for the flowers.” You spoke barely pulling away from him. He chuckled against you, kicking the door shut softly behind him, “you deserve way more than flowers, baby.” He assured you, pulling you back in for a hug. “Now let me go see my babies.” He finally leaned away, hearing them rustling on the monitor. “Go, please it’s your turn.” You teased, still following him up the stairs, not wanting to miss the look on Grace’s face when she woke up to him. He tiptoed into her room, kneeling beside her bed, “Grace.” He whispered, tugging the blanket down, she whined stirring, “Grace, hi baby.” He spoke again, resting his hand on her stomach lightly, rubbing her softly. Her eyes fluttered open, she looked around in a sleepy haze, her eyes landing on him, she smiled, and then it hit her, “daddy!” She shouted, shooting up, clinging to him. “Grace!” He mimicked her, lightly tickling her sides, “daddy, no!” She threw her head back in giggles, “I missed you, little lady.” He smiled, peppering her face in kisses, grinning as her laughter continued filling the room. “Come on, let’s go get your brother.” He stood, dramatically groaning when she hung off of him. Anything to make her laugh.

His greeting to Nick was much more subdued, as he cradled the small baby to his chest, “oh, my sweet boy.” He grinned, Nick looking up with wide eyes. The sight in front of you was one you’d never get used to, Grace in his lap, while they sat holding Nick together, her asking a million questions about his trip while he happily answered. Neither of you loved each other like you used to, this, this was just so much better.

Taglist: @softstarkey​ @literarycharleton​ @wtfkie​ @mtkachuk​ @kempe​

[vintagedolan]

lucid locations (gbd)

while one full year of wakeheart and an impending candle launch are definitely moments to celebrate, you might just have another plan for the ceo’s attention

word count: 7.5k

warnings/tags: ceo!grayson, lots of smut, 🥵  is all im sayin

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Between construction at the house, the warm California summer and an inviting pool right in the backyard, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had on more than a bikini top, running shorts and one of Grayson’s shirts. He was the same - mostly running around shirtless in his shorter shorts, maybe throwing on a tank top if he was building. When you’d packed up to take haven from the construction dust and noise, headed for a rental house in Malibu, you’d had to convince him he needed to pack more than his new speedos. 

Needless to say, getting cleaned up and ready for a black tie event was quite the shift from your usual day to day. The makeup you were swiping on felt almost foreign, especially the lipstick. But the hand that made it’s way onto your bare back was all too familiar. You relaxed into it, smiling at Grayson in the mirror. 

“God damn.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes, closing them when he leaned over to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“You look so good,” he hummed. “But can you look good 6 inches to the right? I gotta clean up my beard.” Your eyes went wide, lip jutting out as you moved over, opening up the spot in front of the sink. 

“Don’t shave it.” You blurted, making him laugh.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just cleaning up the edges. The scruff stays.”

“Good, it makes you look very... ceo-ey,” you grinned, reaching over to run a finger over his jaw, feeling the coarse hair there that you loved so much.

“What, I don’t look ceo-ey with a baby face? Not even in this fit?” He gestured down to himself in his speedo, striking a bit of a pose.

“King of business. Steve Jobs is quaking. The bulge really sells the whole look,” you teased, scrunching up your nose. He belly laughed at that, a hand moving to his chest as if to brace himself until he moved forward to you, spinning you around a bit so he could press his nose to yours.

“Can’t blame me when you insist on getting ready in a bra and tiny shorts,” he mumbled with a grin, fingers ghosting up your bare sides as if to reiterate his point. 

“I’m enjoying the ethan-has-his-own-bathroom perks of this house, sue me.” His lips brushed against yours just barely as you spoke, so light that it almost tickled. 

“I’m enjoying it too.” He pressed a kiss to your lips gently, a small one. 

“Don’t smear my lipstick bub,” you cautioned nicely, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sighed at that, eye meeting yours and just looking. It was the type of gaze that made your cheeks as warm as your core.

“Bring more so you can fix it later. You’re very kissable right now.”

“And you’re very sappy,” you mused. He always got sentimental on big occasions, excited to make new memories. “And kissable.” You gave in, giving him a quick one, ignoring his attempt to deepen it. “We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late to your own event.”

“The CEOs have to be a little late, I think it’s customary,” he tried, but you just shook your head, covering his lips with your hand.

“Shave, I gotta do my hair anyways. And I’m probably gonna need your help with my dress.” 

That was enough motivation for him to get on with getting ready. You’d been sneaky, not shown him the dress you’d picked out for the evening. It was your first black tie event that you’d gone to ever, and definitely the first one with him at your side. You wanted to look good next to him, look good in the pictures you knew were going to be taken that he was no doubt going to post and probably print out to add to his photo collection too. It had butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you did your hair the way you liked, keeping it simple and making sure it framed your face.

It took you a little while, and you smiled when Gray wandered back into the bathroom in his suit, bowtie hanging loosely around his neck just as you finished. You let out a low dramatic whistle, breaking it off into a laugh when his cheeks turned your favorite shade of pink. 

“Help.” He walked over to you, lifting his chin up so you could better access his bowtie. You went to tie it immediately - you’d taught yourself last week when he decided to wear one. It made you smile as you recalled the two of you sitting on his bed, him shirtless with just the bowtie around his neck while you practiced, the spitting image of a male stripper from a bachelorette party. You’d been laughing so hard that it took you a ridiculous amount of times to get it. Luckily now you got it on your first try, proud of yourself as you straightened it out.

“Is it dress time?” His eyes flashed a bit when you nodded in response, heading for the closet where your garment bag was waiting. You pulled it out, having to hold your arm up high so that it didn’t pool on the floor as you moved it to the bed. 

Grayson rubbed his hands together in anticipation before he balled them into fists, the full embodiment of a kid on christmas, but in a 6 foot body. 

“You look like you’re gonna combust baby, chill,” you teased, shaking your head as you slipped your shorts off. You felt his eyes on your thong, the smallest one you owned. You still weren’t sure it would work - only one way to find out.

You reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor before you leaned down to scoop everything up and toss it the laundry. 

“I like where this is going.” His voice had dropped a bit, eyes taking you in from head to toe.

“Oh yeah? Well, get excited,” you teased, reaching into the Target bag on the floor to pull out a few nipple pasties. “These bad boys are coming along for the ride.” You wiggled them around dramatically in the air before you turned to the mirror to put them in place. Grayson watched, entirely unfazed.

“Okay, go stand in the bathroom for a minute,” you instructed, pointing to the door. He balked, eyes going wide.

“What? Why!?”

“Cause, you seeing me wiggle into this thing will ruin the allure. And I like surprises.”

“But I wanna see,” he pouted, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. You weren’t sure how a 6ft man in a tuxedo could look so soft, but he pulled it off.

“You will see, in like two seconds,” you teased, pushing gently on his chest as he walked backwards towards the bathroom door. He was still pouting when you closed it.

Taking a deep breath you went back over to the garment bag, pulling the zipper of it down to reveal the fabric you hadn’t seen in a while. Just laying there it looked almost innocent... almost. But when you put it on? You’d never felt like such a bad bitch - even in the fittings you’d felt powerful, sexy. 

“Do you have it on yet?” Grayson’s voice was impatient, a bit distorted. He was biting his fingernails, you could tell. 

“No, just gimme a minute,” you laughed, coaxing the dress off the hanger and carefully stepping into it. The fabric was silky but dense, with enough structure to give your body shape and enough flow for it to be flattering. It was a deep purple that reflected in a way that made it almost blue when it caught the light. The cleavage was there, but subtle, and that subtly was made up for with an open back. The material pooled right over the curve of your ass, leaving almost your entire back exposed, held up by the tiny straps over your shoulders.

But once you had it on, you remembered your favorite part, the main reason you’d bought it besides the color. 

The slit.

It was high. So high that it was borderline inappropriate, but still just classy enough. It tapered up at your hip, leaving your entire left leg open to the air. And as you’d feared, the lace line of your thong was visible. 

“Let me see,” Grayson whined from behind the door. You knew if you didn’t give in he was going to come out anyways.

“Alright alright, come in!” You called to him. He wasted no time in getting the door open as you stayed where you were in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what to do about the underwear situation.

“Holy. Fuck.” 

That caught your attention, and you turned to see his face. He was smiling, but his mouth was wide open, jaw slack as he looked you up and down. You expected him to get it together after a few moments, but he just stood there, awestruck, eyes never leaving you. 

And then, to top it off, he finally took in a raspy breath, coughing a little. You opened your mouth to say something, but he held up a finger and moved towards the bed, rummaging around by the bedside table. 

It was a sight you always wanted to remember - him, puffing on his bright red inhaler while standing there in a tux. 

“Wow, that good huh?” You couldn’t help the ego boost that it gave you to see him so undone just from looking at you.

“You got room for this in your bag? Might need it later with you lookin’ like that.” 

You rolled your eyes a bit, but you held your hand out anyways, taking it from him and sitting it down next to your bag. The fabric tape you’d bought peeked out at you and you pulled it out with a sigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable looking stuff, but you didn’t have much of an option.

You moved back in front of the mirror, reaching up to your thong and hooking a finger through it and pulling it down.

“What’re you doing?” His mouth sounded dry as he spoke. 

“It was showing. Can’t wear any with a slit this high.”

“You’re actually trying to kill me.” He watched you step out of them with hooded eyes, which turned to confusion when he watched you open the packaging on the tape. “What’s that?”

“Fabric tape. Keeps everything where it needs to be, ya know?” 

“You can’t just wear the dress?”

“Do you want the entire Wakeheart team to see my vagina tonight?” You laughed, quirking an eyebrow at him in the mirror. He scrunched his nose at that idea, staying quiet while you got everything arranged and taped.

“Okay, tell me if you can see anything.” You spun around slowly, trying out a few different angles with your leg that you might do during a photo. 

“You’re good. I fuckin’ love that dress, it looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you baby. You look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself.” You fixed the collar of his shirt with a smile. He brought his wrist up, checking his watch - his green rolex, of course. 

“Ah shit, we gotta go or we really are gonna be late.”

You just nodded, moving to the box with your new black heels and pulling them out. Grayson held his hand out for them and you handed them over, blushing when as you watched him crouch down and reach for your foot.  

“I can do that you know.”

“I know.” He grinned up at you before he looked back down and guided your foot in, his big fingers giving him a few problems when he got to the tiny clasps on the straps. “These are stupidly tiny.”

“I can get em,” you offered again, but he just waved you off, sticking out his tongue as he focused and finally got the buckle to thread through. The left shoe went easier, even though you had to hold onto his shoulder while you balanced on your right. 

He stood up when his work was done, eyes flashing wide when he looked at you.

“You’re so tall now. That’ll be nice for my back.” The question must have been clear on your face, because he answered it. “Don’t have to bend down to kiss you.” 

“Shut up and put your shoes on,” you laughed, kissing him quickly before moving to check yourself in the mirror one last time - even you had to admit, you looked damn good. Grayson got his Louis shoes on quickly, tying them and coming beside you, phone in hand. He pulled you against him so you both fit in the mirror, posing like you were on a red carpet just for his phone. 

“Turn around.” His voice was gruff, and when you did as you were told you knew why. You couldn’t help it - he took the first picture of just you looking up at him, your back on display. But by the time he snapped the next one, you snaked your hand down, white nails bright against his black pants as you cupped him over the fabric, his bulge already growing. 

“Don’t.” 

He snapped the picture anyways. 

“You sure?” You didn’t have to lean too far to get close to his ear now that you had on heels, and he rolled his neck as he sucked in a breath. His eyes flashed to yours, desperate and angry and wanting all at once. 

His hand fell over yours, pulling you off of him by your wrist. “Later.”

“Promise?” It rolled off your tongue as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Jesus,” he groaned, the effort he was using to stay put together obvious. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before he let go. “Yeah, fuckin’ promise.” 

He saved the last picture under my eyes only and put his phone away, taking your hand as you grabbed your bag and followed him out of the room. 

------

“Does my hair still look okay?” You turned to Grayson, a bit nervous that you’d undone all your hard work.

With gentle fingers he fixed a few strays that had come loose. You should have known that they were going to play Cudi the whole way to the venue - it was a Dolan celebration after all. The boys always got hype, and you couldn’t help but join in, dancing along and singing at the top of your lungs. For your mood? Wonderful. But for your look? Maybe not so much.

“You look perfect.”

“Promise?” You quirked an eyebrow, knowing exactly what you were doing and loving every minute of it.

He sat back down in his seat further, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. Ethan noticed from the front seat, watching for a moment and then deciding he should probably mind his own business. 

Grayson’s eyes were serious when he turned to you, leaning over so no one else heard your conversation.

“We have photos in like 5 minutes. I’m begging you. Behave.” 

You pondered it for a minute - how many times had he fucked you up, got you turned on in public when there was nothing you could do about it? But there was a sincerity in his eyes and his voice that you couldn’t ignore. 

Did you like being told what to do? No. But for Grayson? You’d do just about anything.

“Fine,” you conceded with a grin, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “But only cause I want you to be able to post the pictures without your dick showing.”

“How considerate of you,” he rolled his eyes, but it was light hearted. He laced his fingers with yours, thumb running over your skin as his excitement mounted every minute closer you got the venue. You watched out the window as the fancy buildings started to emerge, signaling that you were getting close. Malibu had a more relaxed yet somehow more exclusive vibe than LA, and it had your heart racing.

“You’re gonna be fine, it’s just cameras.” He had somehow sensed your nerves, putting his own aside as he tried to comfort you instead.

“You’ve done this before, of course it’s not scary for you.”

“True. But I’m gonna be with you the whole time, which means you have nothing to worry about,” he countered, almost asking you to challenge him on it. You just nodded, picking up your purse from the floorboard.

“When we get out can you stand in front of me? I don’t wanna accidentally flash anybody.”

“Of course baby. I thought thats what the tape was for though,” he mused.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“We’re here, you guys ready?” Ethan turned from his spot in the passenger seat, excitement written all over his face. He reached back, hand extended to his brother, his partner in all this. You watch them do the handshake they could do in their sleep, a silent communication of excitement and support. 

And then, it was time for the show to really begin. It was a bit of a blur after that, mixtures of adrenaline and nerves. Grayson opened your door, standing tall and broad as you stood up, got your footing and adjusted your dress to make sure all was covered. And then he offered you his arm, prideful grin on his face as he showed you off.

It was a blur after that. You vaguely remembered pausing in front of the backdrop, a simple white with the Wakeheart logo scattered across it. You took a few serious pictures, giving your best sultry look, but mostly you just smiled, so proud of your man for all he worked so hard for.

At one point he stepped back from you, gesturing towards you proudly. It took you a minute to register that the photographers were calling out for you to pose, just you by yourself. You did your best, posing and looking where you were called. 

You only relaxed when Grayson reattached to your side, leading you down the rest of the carpet that stretched up to the venue. You posed for a few with both him and E just for fun, the three of you goofing off and just being yourselves before you made it to the end, the doors open to reveal the inside of the venue. 

“They want some of just E and I, do you wanna wait out here or do you wanna go sit down?” 

“I’ll go sit, save my feet. Have fun!” You kissed him quickly, vaguely aware that a few cameras flashed. You reached up and wiped a tiny bit of lipstick off his lip before letting him go, watching him head back over to his brother. 

You weren’t alone for long - you’d barely made it into the room before Sterling saw you, lighting up and running over to you. She was in a floor length green number, the sparkles on it catching the light from outside.

“Ster! You look amazing!”

“Says you! Holy shit! You rode in with the boys right?” You nodded, starting to look around. “Do you think they’re gonna like everything?”

“Oh they’re gonna love it, for sure.” 

The room was dim, colorful lights all around giving just enough brightness to make it functional without ruining the vibe. It only took you a second to realize that each light was specific; purple, blue and a light orange, just like the Enterlight collection. There were little Wakeheart touches everywhere, from the little mini fragrances on the tables to the logo printed on the name cards at the tables.

“Your all’s table is at the front I think,” Sterling offered, pointing up by the stage. “I gotta go find Daniel, I’ll find you later!” She disappeared to find her boyfriend and you headed in the general direction of the front, weaving through some of the tables.

“Y/N!” 

You turned, lighting up as you realized the call had come from Deon who was beelining for you, the biggest smile on his face.

“De!” was all you could get out before he had you wrapped up in a hug, almost lifting you off the ground. It had been too long since you’d seen him, too long since he’d come by to hang out after the first few times that you’d hit it off. 

“You look hot as hell girl, damn!” He praised, and you blushed so deep that you were sure he could see it, even in those lights. 

“Did Kai get to come?” 

“Yeah, he’s getting us drinks, wanna meet him?”

“Of course! Gotta see what all the hype is about,” you nudged his shoulder, taking his hand as he lead you over to the bar.

Kai was taller than you’d pictured him when Deon had described his boyfriend, but he was beautiful enough for all De’s constant gushing about him to make sense. The introductions went well, and you almost forgot where you were until someone cleared their throat.

“You guys gonna get drinks or what?” The bartender that spoke was a burly guy, too much muscle, and probably too old to be happy as a bartender if his tone and glare said anything about him.

“Oh right, sorry! Just uh, two mules for us. Y/N?” Deon looked at you expectantly.

“A mojito for me please,” you kept up the niceties, trying to stay pleasant. Maybe he was just having a bad night. 

“I hate making those.”

Niceties? Gone. 

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re getting paid.”

“Suppose so,” he grumbled, passing over the two mules to Deon and Kai. They took the gratefully, giving you a little wave before they headed off, so caught up in each other that they didn’t even register the conversation. You stood up a bit taller now that you were by yourself, practically daring him to try something.

“You here by yourself?” 

“No.”

“Don’t see anybody with you.”

“So observant.” You let the annoyance seep into your tone, but you were right in assuming that he was the type of guy who didn’t give a fuck if the women around him were uncomfortable. 

“Where’s your man then? Not a smart one if he’s gonna let you walk around here wearing that by yourself.” The way his eyes raked up and down your form didn’t sit well with you. 

“He’s a bit... occupied. And considering I’m the reason there’s a bar here in the first place tonight, I suggest you watch your mouth and make the drinks before the CEO changes his mind.” 

“What she said.” 

You’d know that voice and the hand that slid dangerously low across your back anywhere. Apparently, the event planners must have shown the workers who the whole party was for, because the man behind the bar changed his tune immediately.

“Mr. Dolan,” he greeted, so serious that is almost made you laugh. “Can I get you anything sir?”

“You can get my girl what she asked for, and you can watch your mouth. That’ll be all.” 

You weren’t sure how a guy the size of the bartender could look sheepish, but he managed it as he handed over your mojito. 

“Thanks! Have a great night!” You hoped your insincerity was blatant enough as you took your drink and waved back to him, letting Grayson’s hand guide you as you turned around. 

“Hi baby, how were the rest of your pictures?” You asked as you walked to the table, chasing your straw with your tongue for a moment before taking a sip. 

Grayson just shook his head at you. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You shrugged, enjoying the compliment and lifting up to kiss his cheek in thanks. He pulled your chair out for you before you sat down, settling beside you. As you expected, he was a hot commodity, a stream of people coming up to the table to give their congratulations. It only got more constant when Ethan found his seat on the other side of Grayson, everyone making sure they got their moment with the boys. 

Grayson was fully engaged, and you did your best to listen, focus on what he was saying, accepting the little nods of acknowledgement everyone was giving you.

But you were much more focused on the way Grayson’s hand was reached back so he could keep a hand on your thigh, his diamond ring cold against your skin as he squeezed every once in a while -  a little reminder that he appreciated you being there with him. 

It was innocent enough - but the mixture of him in that suit, the professional tenor of his tone, the lights, the fact that his hand was big enough to cover all the way across your thigh. You couldn’t help it - you shifted your legs just barely, only then realizing just how wet you were. 

It was wishful thinking that he didn’t notice. And of course, right at that moment there was a lull in the congratulations. He turned back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” 

You smoothed out your dress when you stood up, hoping your skin didn’t look as flushed as it felt. 

“Hey. We gotta talk at 8. Don’t leave me hanging.” Ethan’s tone was all too knowing, and if you hadn’t already been blushing you would have when he fist bumped his brother. 

You took Grayson’s hand, his Rolex cool against your wrist as he lead you out of the event room, down a small hallway and to an elevator. He hit the button labeled R, and you both waited as patiently as you could. As soon as the doors were closed he was on you, both hands on your face, thumbs over your jaw as he pulled you to him. 

You melted into him, molding to his form, whimpering when his right hand traced down your back, crossed over and tucked under the fabric of your dress, fingers ghosting over your bare hip. 

“Fuck, forgot you ditched the panties,” he groaned, turning in annoyance as the doors dinged and opened. 

There were very few things that could have pulled your attention away from Grayson at that moment - the view was one of them.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, looking out at the rooftop that the elevator had brought you to. It was a garden of sorts, lots of greenery and flowers all around. But the real stunner was the view over the ocean, a perfect Malibu beach stretching out, visible even in the dim twilight that had settled over the sky while you’d been inside. 

“Figured you’d like it up here. And it’s private.”

You turned around, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Private.” You swallowed around the word as he came closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. This time you got your piece, hands coming up to his neck, searching out any skin you could find over his collar. He one upped you, both hands moving down your back, under your dress and over your ass, squeezing and massaging as he reached further, getting dangerously close to where you needed him most. 

“We can’t, Gray we can’t.” Your words didn’t match your actions, whole body jolting when his hands moved out of your dress, right hand resting on your hip from the front now, the slit just making it that much easier for him to gain access. 

“Why not?” He mused, kissing along your neck. 

“Cause we can’t go back down there looking fucked out. We’ll be home in a few hours.” There wasn’t even a flicker of conviction in your voice, and he just shook his head, unwilling to hear it.

“Can’t. Got me fucked up down there, calling me CEO and shit, hyping me up to that piece of shit. Don’t think I’m gonna make it home without at least a taste.” His hand traced left, ducking under your dress. You gasped as the tape peeled off your skin, leaving you vulnerable. 

“Fuck Gray,” you whimpered as his hand cupped over you, your knees buckling underneath you at the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick. 

He groaned at what he found, other hand coming up to the back of your head, chasing your lips with his as you gasped when he started to move. 

“Just hold onto me baby, I got you.” His voice was deep in your ear as you clung to him, his arm wedged between both of your torsos as he worked you over. But just when you were really getting there, legs shaking, he pulled away, leaving you exposed and cold in the evening air.

You were about to complain, but the look he gave you told you he was far from done.  

“You’re on watch.” His voice and the wink he threw you had your already weak knees about ready to give out as he sunk down, moving your dress away like a curtain.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your hip before he ducked down, holding onto your thighs as he dove in with a wide tongue, finally getting what he’d been waiting for. And even if he hadn’t told you to you would have been bracing yourself on his shoulders.

“I like these heels,” he murmured when he pulled back for air. “Gets me a better angle.”

“Fuck, Grayson.” Something about you using his full name had him diving back in with a vengeance, tongue rough and active, only pausing to suck on you in the most delicious way. 

Your eyes rolled back, hands finding his hair, not caring if you messed it up as you held on, twitching a bit as he hummed at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You forced yourself to focus, watching the door to make sure no one wandered up to the roof, found the star of the whole affair buried in your pussy.

But something else caught your eye - a little clock, number shining blue.

7:58pm

“Gray, G-Grayson, stop, stop it’s almost 8, you have to - fuck - you have to go,” you warned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull him away from you. 

“Gotta keep my promise first,” he said, only speeding up, knowing you were close from your breathy tone and your quivering thighs. Sure enough, all he had to do was add his finger and you were completely undone, calling out his name and bracing on his shoulder so you didn’t collapse. 

He stood back up with a triumphant grin, ego booming as you just stared at him, working through the aftershocks. He checked his watch and clenched his teeth, giving you a nervous look.

“Hell yeah, one minute to spare. Take the elevator.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek and jogged off, leaving you panting and alone as he disappeared down the staircase. 

“Jesus christ,” you huffed, trying to walk forward on your wobbly legs as quickly as you could, doing your best to pull yourself together. It was all deep breaths and attempts to ignore the wetness on your thighs in the elevator ride as you tried to re-stick the fabric tape with no luck.

The only reason you didn’t go to the bathroom to get yourself re-situated was because you didn’t want to miss the boys speech. So you quickly made your way to your seat, sipping on your drink to try and cool yourself down while you watched Ethan attempt to fix Grayson’s hair at the side of the stage. Oops.

They walked up eventually, waving and acting as humble as ever while the room applauded them. Grayson looked entirely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just been nose deep in your pussy 60 seconds ago. You tried to manifest the same energy, pretend like you weren’t still practically dripping sitting there in your dress. 

But when he looked right at you and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away what you knew was you? You clenched around nothing, biting down on your straw. 

It was going to be a long rest of the night. 

They thanked everyone for coming, and for all the support of the brand over the last year. They shouted out everyone on the team, giving them the praises they deserved. Grayson slipped in a little moment for you, a “thank you to my amazing girlfriend who always smells every sample I bring home and isn’t afraid to give her honest opinion, and who keeps me sane and supports me through every step of everything I do” that had your cheeks burning as all the eyes in the room sought you out. 

When they were done he wasted no time in putting his hand right back on your thigh as soon as he sat down, smirking a bit when he wrapped around and found just a trace of wetness.

“Easy. My tape won’t re-stick,” you warned, not wanting him to get too frisky and accidentally move your dress. 

“Guess you’ll just have to stay close to me then huh,” he mused, leaning in for a kiss that you gave him happily. 

The rest of the night went smoothly, from the meal to the social hour afterwards. You stayed on Grayson’s arm, right where he wanted you as he made his rounds, made sure he spoke to the executives that he and Ethan had invited, got the advice he’d wanted to ask about. 

Before you knew it midnight had come and gone.

“You ready to get out of here baby?” 

“Hell yeah.”

Perks of dating a 20 year old CEO? He has his own driver when he wants it. But to your surprise, the man who drove the three of you there handed him keys instead of leading you to a car. 

“Had em drop off the porsche in case we wanted to ditch early and Ethan didn’t.” He answered the question he knew you had, leading you to the familiar blue car that was waiting on the side of the street. 

“Always the planner,” you teased, squeezing his arm before he opened your door for you and helped you in. 

“I do run a company you know,” he mused, leaning down to kiss you one more time before he picked up the rest of your dress and put it in the car so it didn’t get closed into the door.

You watched his every move as he went around the front of the car and climbed into the drivers seat, starting it up and revving it up once just for good measure. 

As soon as he pulled out of the spot you were leaning down to unclasp your heels, groaning in relief when your feet were freed.

“Better?” 

“So much better,” you sighed, relaxing back in your seat as he plugged the rental address into the GPS and started down the road. 

“Those shoes have their perks for sure. Sorry they hurt you though.” He palmed the wheel as he turned and you bit your lip, remembering exactly what perks he was talking about.

Now it was his turn.

You reached over, hand resting on his thigh, nails digging in just barely. He twitched, foot pressing a bit on the gas, lurching the car forward.

“Easy baby,” you cautioned, turning in your seat so you were facing him, fingers tracing up further, gauging his reaction.

“What’re you doing,” he asked as if he didn’t know, eyes trained forward on the road. 

“Keeping promises,” you mused. “Got me fucked up back there.” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as you repeated his words from earlier, unbuckling his belt and pushing it out of the way as you spoke. 

“Yeah? How’d I get you so fucked up baby. Tell me.” 

“You know exactly what you did,” you reminded him, popping the button open with your nail, coaxing the zipper down to reveal his Calvin Klein briefs that were already getting stretched as he got harder and harder.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he grunted, knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“Could barely walk to the elevator when you ran off, my legs were all wobbly. Made me feel so good,” you explained, stroking his ego and his bulge simultaneously.

“Fuck yeah they were, and you still made it down for my speech.” You reached up under his waistband, pulling his underwear down enough for you to get your hand around him. His hip stuttered as you started to work him over like only you could. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you hummed, using your thumb to trace the vein on the side of his shaft, up over the tip with just enough pressure to really fuck him up. 

“Shit baby. Just like that.”

You did as he said, twisting your wrist over him as he grew in your hand. When your knuckles grazed over his balls the porsche jolted again, making you grin.

“Careful. Can’t fuck you if we don’t make it home.”

“If you weren’t so fucking horny we wouldn’t have a problem,” he huffed, looking at his phone to check the ETA. 2 more minutes. 

“Can’t help it. You in a suit just gets to me,” you admitted, batting your eyelashes a bit just for fun. You didn’t count on him dropping his right hand from the wheel and reaching over to you, shoving your dress to the side and immediately cupping over your already sensitive folds. You jolted in your seat, squeezing his dick in your hand. 

Two could play that game. With a wicked grin, you shifted, closing your legs so he couldn’t reach you and leaning forward, dropping your head.

Before you could get very far his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back up so you had to look at him.

“Wait.” 

You swallowed hard and nodded at his command, sinking back into your seat as he pulled the porsche into the driveway, typing in the gate code, fingers drumming on the wheel while he waited for them to open. He pushed the gear shift forward into park as soon as he stopped, looking over to you.

“Wait.” He said again, opening his door and readjusting himself back into his pants before he came around to your side of the car. He opened your door sweetly, offering you a hand.

As soon as you were on your feet he was crouching, shoulder hitting your hips before he grabbed and lifted, practically throwing you over his shoulder.

You squealed, trying to find purchase against his back, hands balling up his suit jacket in an attempt to hold on. He was unfazed, even taking one hand off you to unlock the door. 

By the time he made it to your alls room on the top floor you’d gone limp, knowing there was no point in fighting him. You missed his face while you couldn’t see it, smiling when he leaned forward at the edge of the bed, let you fall on top of the comforter, bouncing slightly. 

“Dress on or off?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He pondered it for a minute, eyes darkening as he imagined both scenarios, played them out in his head.

“Off,” he decided. You nodded, standing up and pulling one of the straps off over your shoulder. His fingers found the other before you could, pulling it off so that the top of your dress fell down, revealing your breasts. You looked down with a laugh, almost forgetting about the nipple pasties you’d put on. 

He cupped them anyways, thumbs running over the little petal shaped cut outs, the muffled sensation of his fingers on your nipples making your back arch, asking for more. He was gentle as he peeled them away, not wanting to hurt you, ducking down to kiss each one when they were free. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he licked over them, kissing his way across. Your dress continued to fall down, gathering at your hips until his hands found it and pushed it the rest of the way off.

“Much better,” he grinned, guiding you back until you fell on your back again.

It was quite the show, watching him strip out of his suit in front of you. He started with the jacket, tossing it away without a care before he started working at his bowtie. 

You couldn’t resist - you sat up, untucked his shirt from his pants, hastily fumbling over the buttons, pausing to run your hands over his abs as soon as you saw them. He groaned at that, especially when you leaned forward to kiss his warm skin. He got the tie off somehow, working from the top button and meeting you halfway before pulling it off. Just him shirtless in those fucking pants was enough to have you fully worked up again, and you laid back down, watching him pull his belt off through the loops, undo his button and pull everything down at once. 

Your mouth watered, ready for him, but to your surprise he crawled on top of you, resting just enough weight down to pin you to the bed. He was beaming as he looked down at you for a few moments, just taking you in.

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down to kiss you, surprised but warm nonetheless at his sudden change of mood.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too.” There was no question. “Proud of you.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” He pulled back, readjusting so he could line up. You opened your legs a bit wider to make room for him, anticipation mounting as he rubbed himself over your folds for a few strokes. His lips found your forehead as he finally pushed in, stretching you out as he slowly let you adjust to all he had to give.

“So fuckin tight for me, every time baby, fuck,” he huffed out, sinking down further onto you. If you had room to, your back would have arched as you drug your nails over his arms, overwhelmed at how deep he already was. 

He dropped to his forearms, rocking above you so hard that your whole body moved across the bed with each thrust. You clung to him, arms moving around him, scratching at his lower back.

You couldn’t even form words, the only things falling from your lips being his name and a constant stream of whimpers, punctuating each drive he made into your heat. Every time he pulled out his tip ran across that spot deep inside you that had you squirming, body unsure of whether you wanted to run away or get closer, overwhelmed by the force of the sensation. 

He knew you were close when you started to clench around him, walls fluttering in a way that pushed him towards the edge like nothing else ever could. 

When your orgasm came, it was almost too much. You cried out, clinging to Grayson as he continued to pound into you without mercy, only spurred on when you bit onto his shoulder, riding it out before your body went limp for a moment, completely fucked out.

“Almost there baby, fuck,” he groaned, sitting up and grabbing your hips with both hands, holding you up as he chased his high, lost in you entirely. “Want your mouth.” 

Somehow in your blissed out state you managed to sit up enough for him to get close enough to you and your waiting tongue. It only took a few quick strokes before he was cumming, hips stuttering as he unloaded into your mouth. You found the energy to suck him dry, taking all he had to give before he guided you off, much too sensitive for you to keep going. 

He laid down beside you, rolling to his right to find your hips and pull you on top of him. Neither of you moved a muscle for a few minutes, just trying to get your breathing under control and your heart rate back down to an acceptable rate. When you finally got enough energy back you made your way up to his face, catching him with soft and lazy kisses over his lipstick stained lips, drinking each other in. 

You knew that the pictures would run tomorrow, and your faces would be everywhere. You could see all the headlines about Grayson in your mind: CEO, youtuber, famous, heartthrob; every girl that saw him in that suit would be just as enthralled as you had been. But none of it mattered. Because they didn’t get your Grayson, the Grayson who picked you up and carried you to the shower twenty minutes post fuck, helped you take your makeup off and made you laugh until your stomach hurt when he washed his hair and spiked it up in a soapy mohawk like a six year old. That was your Grayson; your CEO, your heartthrob, for the rest of your fucking life. You relished in the thought as you curled up to him that night, loving the weight of his arms around you as you drifted off. 

[everybodyscupoftea]

b you know I’m a sucker for rafe smut hook it up

yes ma’am :)

since this is a thanks for fantasy draft help, this could be the second part of that football rival request i got mayhaps?

(warnings: cursing, nsfw)

due to rafe being about 2 hours away, your job, and your ingrained hatred of all things oxford and ole miss, you didn’t see rafe much more than one weekend a month, occasionally two if neither of you were busy.

one friday afternoon, you’d forgotten at rafe was coming to stay with you, and decided to take a nap after your yoga class and shower. it felt like you’d just fallen asleep when a knock at your door jolted you back awake.

with a groan, you rolled over to see four missed calls and a bunch of texts from rafe about getting dirty looks at the gas station in starkville, more dirty looks in your apartment’s parking lot, and the most dirty looks waiting in the hallway for you to wake up and let him in.

you grinned, rubbing your eyes, and got out of bed to go unlock the door. throwing it open, you leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms, “afternoon, baby,” you told him.

he looked you up and down, focusing on your bare legs, before leaning down to kiss you. pulling away after a few seconds, he whispered, “you wearing pants, sweetheart?”

“i dunno, why don’t you come in and find out.”

his grin was sharp and he wrapped you up into a strong hug, “damn i missed you.”

your smile softened and you hugged him back, “missed you too, cameron.”

stepping back to let him in fully and shut the door, you finally got a good look at him, “you’re complaining about dirty looks but you rolled into down decked out in ole miss shit. i don’t know why you’re so confused.”

he laughed, head falling back, and put both of his hands on your shoulder, “oh i have a plan.”

“yeah, what’s that?”

“i want you to wear it.”

recoiling harshly, you shook your head, “fuck no. hell will absolutely freeze over before i put that shit on my body voluntarily.”

he smirked, “don’t speak so soon. you owe me one.”

furrowing your brows, you thought back, “wait, what?”

“you lost our last bet and i’m cashing in.”

“no, absolutely not. that’s not part of the terms and conditions.”

“hm, seems like it’s part of the fine print,” he joked, pulling his shirt off and handing it over to you, “put it on, baby.”

“okay, so i wear it, you fuck me, and then i can take it off?”

“no,” he smirked, “you wear it all night.”

you bristled, but he was right, you’d lost the bet fair and square (how the fuck did the saints manage to lose to the fucking panthers). so, you pulled your shirt off and put his on with a heavy sigh, really playing out the dramatics.

rafe sat down and smiled with his arms crossed, “this is hot.”

“i hate you.”

“you don’t.”

and you didn’t, but your patience did start to wear thin as he wanted to order dinner and watch a movie and barely touched you all night. rafe kept you in eyesight so he could constantly see the logo on your chest which for some odd reason was really doing it for him.

when it hit 10 and the movie was ending you turned to face him, “okay, either we have sex now or i’m taking this shirt off and going to bed.”

he laughed and nodded, “alrighty then, let’s do it.”

you rolled your eyes, feeling bratty, and stood up, holding a hand out. rafe shook his head and you groaned, “cameron, come on.”

“sorry, what is it you want?”

“to take this fucking shirt off. why, you see something you want?” you asked, covering up the logo with one of your hands, stubbornly.

“hmm, maybe. you sure you don’t see something you like too?”

you shook your head, “nope. only a blonde asshole on my couch.”

rafe smiled, “i think you’re lying.”

finally standing up, he crossed the room and stood behind you, pressing up against you. you shivered as he dipped his head and bit down gently on your earlobe, his hands grabbing yours and pulling till they were resting on the arm of the couch, you leaning forward slightly.

his hands slid from your hands up your arms to your shoulders as he started kissing down your neck. you gripped the arm of the couch tightly as one of his hands wandered down, pushing the hem of the shirt up and pulling the band of your shorts away from your pelvis. you thought he was going to push them down, but he let the band snap back, startling you, and laughed.

rafe’s other hand traced the stitched logo on your chest repeatedly as he stood up straight and dug his chin into your hair. you bent forward slightly and he tapped the inside of your foot with one of his, signaling for you to spread your legs more.

“i think there is definitely something you want,” he spoke lowly into your ear.

you sighed, “fuck you.”

rafe pushed his hips forward to let you feel him, half hard in his sweats and you dropped your head back on his shoulder. before you could move, he was pushing forward again, “keep your hands on the couch, sweetheart.”

you did as he said, tightening your grip, and he rewarded you by sliding a hand back under your shirt, circling your belly button a few times before sliding up to cup your breasts and you exhaled sharply, nipples rubbing against his rough palms.

 he shoved a hand back into your shorts and stiffened when he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear. you could hear the smirk when he asked, “is this for me?”

“no,” you started, cutting yourself off with a moan when his fingers slid between your folds, “i didn’t even know you were coming.”

“forgot, huh? for that maybe you won’t be coming?”

“nooo,” you whined and rubbed your ass against him, trying to prompt him forward.

rafe clucked his tongue at you and pushed two fingers into you, “be good or you definitely won’t be coming.”

he kept pumping his fingers in and out, every so often pulling one out to rub teasing touches around your clit. your knees went weak after about the fifth time and your nails dug into the couch as you tried to stay upright. 

it was hot in the room, rafe’s body heat radiating from behind and a bead of sweat dripped down your temple as you fought to stay standing while his fingers took you apart. 

you clenched down around him three times, close to coming, and rafe mumbled out curses, trying to shove his sweatpants down enough to free his cock. grabbing the condom out of his wallet, rafe pushed your shorts down and you sighed out in relief, finally about to get what you want.

“don’t come yet, baby, i know you’re close,” he told you, warning in his tone.

you whined as he put the condom on and pumped himself a few times before lining up and finally sinking into you. rafe slid an arm around your stomach, under the shirt, and started thrusting.

dropping his forehead onto your shoulder, he spread one palm across your stomach and traced over the ole miss logo with his other hand. you gasped as he bit down on your shoulder, accompanied by a harder thrust. 

“fuck,” he groaned lowly, lips brushing against your neck as he sped up, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

you couldn’t do much more than whine, still focusing on not coming and holding onto the couch. rafe was getting close, you didn’t want to risk him stopping. the hand on the logo started to massage your breasts through the shirt, and his other hand dropped to rub over your clit.

knees weakening, your head dropped back on his shoulder and you tightened and loosened your grip, anxious to move your hands.

“you can move ‘em, sweetheart,” he reassured, and you did, one going to the material of his shirt, hanging on to it to ground yourself. his thrusts started to speed up, going even deeper, and he sucked the side of your throat, teeth pressing into your skin.

pulling away slightly, he growled, “i want to feel you come.”

“you’re going to have to fuck me harder,” you egged him on between gasps.

rafe growled, hand on your breasts dropping slightly to hold you in place when his hips sped up. moving one of your hands, you dug your nails into his hand and bit down hard on your lip.

cursing into your neck, rafe’s hips started to stutter and his finger on your clit sped up, working it hard and fast. you panted and shook and at his growled, “come for me, baby,” went limp, coming hard and clenching down harder.

rafe growled and you pulled his hand away from your clit to rest on your stomach, smearing wetness across your skin. he pulled your chin up and kissed you hard, tongue sliding over yours feverishly. 

“getting close,” he groaned and you whimpered out his name. rafe came quickly after, grunting with each pulse of his cock inside you, and stayed in place as he softened, pressing soft kisses over the harsh marks he’d sucked earlier.

you hummed at the feeling, wiggling slightly until he slipped out of you and sank into his arms. rafe chucked and helped you and your weak knees to the couch. laying down, rafe pulled the blanket over you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “gonna go take care of the condom and be back.”

eyes squinted, you watch him kick his sweats the rest of the way off and head to the bathroom. he came back a minute or so later and got under the blanket with you, cuddling into your front. you nuzzled his chest, “that was fun.”

“yeah?” he asked, “fun enough to get you to keep the shirt on?”

you rolled your eyes, “fuck off, cameron. whenever i wake back up, i’m burning it.”

“no you won’t.”

“bet,” you argued back sleepily, not waiting for his response before falling asleep.

[lxveille]

another love song

mk x reader

word count: ~ 2080 warnings: references to alcohol a/n: university!au; another ‘trying to get back into the feel of writing’ fic so... idk ?? tbh it’s more of a fic treatment but here’s what i’m posting anyway

Minkyun has gotten inspiration for his songs from you before. This one is different.

You’re nearly always the first person to place money into Minkyun’s open guitar case when he’s busking. 

More often than not, he tries to return your money once he’s packed up for the afternoon - but you refuse, and tell him he earned it. Then he usually spends more on you than you gave by buying you bubble tea or coffee before the two of you trek back to campus.

You’re not sure what you’d do with your Saturday afternoons if not for him.

You’d met Minkyun in a literature class your first year of university. At first it had been easy to write him off as a high school class clown having some difficulty adjusting to university expectations. Except that sometimes, when your professor would really dig into the themes of a text, he’d have something to share that would stick with you. A thought - sometimes chaotically explained - that would rumble around in your brain for a week, even. Eventually, you decided a proper introduction was in order. A fatal mistake, if you’d hoped to keep up some aloof, studious front. He had a way of warming others up, it turned out. You discovered he was friends with a number of people with unfriendly faces who somehow transformed into lighthearted, open books in Minkyun’s presence.  

You feel a little lighter around him, too. 

And on the days you don’t, he invites you to unburden. 

It became a common tableau: you sprawled out, exasperated, on the beanbag chair in his dorm room, ranting about anything that bothered you while he lay on his bed, half-propped up against the wall and strumming occasional notes on his guitar. A last complaint and a final chord, and then Minkyun would be on his feet with an idea of what the two of you should do to shake it out of your system for once and for all. Those plans only sometimes included just enough beer that the both of you were giddy and ready to laugh at anything. 

If Minkyun had to name one good reason to get drunk with you, it was this: it was the only time you’d sing. The very first time you let yourself break into song in front of him had been at a bar. It had been difficult to make out your voice over the speakers, but Minkyun heard. Maybe more important, though, was the way you swayed your shoulders and rocked into each syllable. 

He would tease sometimes that you ought to join him when he busked. He might make more with you joining in. 

“Ah, but then you’d have to split it with me, too,” you’d reply. You assumed, at least, that he must be kidding. 

It was spring the first time Minkyun asked you to listen to something original he’d composed. There was something personal about it that had never occurred to you when listening to a song before. For all the times you had watched him play, it was like looking at him from a new angle. Just as his commentary used to linger on your mind, his songs began to do the same.

 And in the winter of your second year, he asked if it’d be okay to use some of your own rants as inspiration in songs. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Just - the way you talk about the guys you’re getting over, and stuff like that. It could make for good lyrics.” 

“You’re going to quote me?”

“Well,” he lingered on the syllable, then broke into a dimpled smile. “No. But I don’t wanna take inspiration without telling you!”

So it happened that when he performed songs of his own, you sometimes began to recognize bits of your own infatuations and fallings outs weaved into his lyrics. The way he framed it, it usually made it easier to get over whoever had been behind the heartbreak. 

Minkyun isn’t busking today. The drizzle is enough that it wouldn’t be worth it. All the same, he spent the better part of the morning sending you messages asking you to come over. 

When you finally cave, you put on a front of unhappiness at the door, shaking out your umbrella before passing it over to his extended hand.

“I brought some stuff for my class so I can try to get work done like I’d planned,” you told him. 

He pouted for dramatic flair. “So you’re really just gonna act like you’re at your room at mine?”

“That’s what we agreed to! I told you I wanna get this reading done so I can just be hungover tomorrow without having to worry about Monday’s lecture.” 

“Damn, and people try to frame university drinkers as irresponsible.” 

“What can I say? I’m flawless,” you comment dryly as you pass into his room. 

“So you’re still going out even if the rain keeps up?” Minkyun asks. He settles into his usual spot near the foot of his mattress. You rummage through your bag for a textbook and your printed copy of the syllabus before finding a spot somewhere closer to the pillow. 

“Mm,” you affirm, “I think I’m officially entirely over Seungcheol, so it’ll be good for me to go out.” 

“Ahhh.” There’s something guttural and mischievous in the way he makes the sound. It’d be fair to expect some ribbing comment on how transparent you could be with these things. No such remark comes. 

It’s some time later, when you’re nearly done with your assigned reading, that Minkyun announces that he finished a new song recently. 

“Like one of your own?” you ask. 

He nods, and adds how he’d been thinking of playing it out this weekend if it hadn’t been for the poor turn in weather. 

You exaggerate a gasp. “You were going to share a song with a crowd before sharing it just with me?” There’s no real offence. It’s only a pattern that you’d noticed. Sometimes he’d say it felt needed, if only because he based part of the lyrics’ premise on your own experiences instead of his own. 

“I know!” Minkyun laughs airly. “Mother nature said not to, I guess!” 

“Well, are you going to play it now then?” You should tell him to wait until you’ve finished this chapter. That way you won’t entirely lose track of things. But you’re not infallible; and if there’s one thing you’re horrible at resisting it’s the chance to hear Minkyun play. 

He hops up from the bed to fetch his guitar. And he plays. 

It’s a love song, which doesn’t come as a surprise. Minkyun told you from the beginning - or at least when he first asked if he could take inspiration from your own heart’s tribulations - that he liked to write about that feeling. The good, the bad, or at the very least what he imagined of it. 

This song doesn’t feel familiar. Usually you can tell when he’s written indirectly about your own affairs. So these endearing words, these syrupy lines of dedication, of patiently waiting for the other one to notice… They must be from his own experience. 

A corner of your heart goes sour at that thought, and retorts that it might be one of his other friends. Devoted and hoping it won’t go unnoticed would be right up Yuto’s alley, you tell yourself as your search for a likely suspect. You don’t let yourself think too much on why you don’t want it to be Minkyun’s own feelings. 

Except there’s something else that bothers you. The way he keeps his eyes on his strumming fingers, or closes them altogether. 

Normally Minkyun looks at you now and then, and smiles at your reactions to his music. Even with the unhappy songs. 

You squeeze the textbook in your lap. A corner digs into your palm. He’s somewhere in the second chorus and your mind is fogging over with an irritation. It’s not his fault. You’re not mad at him. 

You just wish you had realized you want to fall in love with Minkyun sooner.

The last chord hangs in the air before you can fully process this thought. He looks at you expectantly. 

“What do you think?” Minkyun asks. 

You force a smile. “It’s sweet.” 

He leaves space for you to elaborate. When you don’t, the corners of his lips drag down a bit. “Just sweet?” He repeats. “Is it lame?” 

“No! It’s just - it’s different from some of your other stuff. But it’s sweet. I like it. I think, um… I just was expecting it to be something based on my whole recent back and forth thing. Since you wanted to play it for me,” you try to cover for your lackluster response. 

Minkyun looks you over for a moment, then chuckles. “Not every song can be about your love life.” 

“I know! Of course! Geez, that’s not what I meant,” you rush to say, loudly, as if you needed to cover the sound of some kind of fracture in your heart. 

He leans forward to set his guitar carefully on the tiles, its neck leaning against the bed frame. “I guess that’s not totally accurate to say here though.” He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks your way again. 

“...What?”  

“Ah… You’re pretty clueless, huh?” Minkyun sounds content with himself, and he’s barely holding back a grin. 

“I’ve never gone on like that about someone.” 

“Yeah, I know.”  

You eye him over a few times quickly, trying to reach a conclusion that feels safe. All you can theorize for sure is that he’s practiced this all, and somehow it’s going to plan. Maybe. “What are you on about?” you ask, tone turning suspicious. 

He laughs more fully now, then shifts his position to face you directly from the other end of his duvet. “You.” 

You glance around him like this could be some hidden camera prank. “What?”

“You,” Minkyun repeats, “It’s about you.” 

In the most foolish move of the day, you suddenly felt your throat dry out the same way it does before you cry. It must have been too much at once: to realize a desire and think it ripped away only to have it suddenly offered up so easily, so soon. 

“You’re not serious.” 

“Is it bad if I am?” he asks, leaning to the right a bit as he watches your reaction. You press your palm to your clavicle, trying to get your heart and your mind in sync. “Am serious, I mean.”  

All you can manage is a shake of your head. 

Minkyun grins bright and leans forward to put a hand over the one still at your side. “You really didn’t notice?” He pulls off incredulous and teasing in one go. If you weren’t so off kilter, you might want to scold him for it somehow. 

“What was I supposed to know?” You ask instead.

He shakes his head. For a fleeting instant, you worry he’s about to brush the whole thing aside. That worry is killed pretty quickly when he leans closer instead and delicately presses an experimental kiss against your lips. 

Minkyun is back to his side of the bed in the next moment, nearly like it hadn’t happened at all.  

Your hand lifts from your clavicle to allow your fingers to brush over your own lips, still tingly with the affection. Or maybe just from his lip balm rubbing off on you. 

He gives you a second more before asking, “Still okay?” 

“Um, yeah.” 

His smile returns. “Still going out to find someone new tonight?” 

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands and accuse, “You’re the worst.”

“So… is that a yes, you are?” 

He knows it isn’t. 

He’s spent all this time getting to know you. Now he gets to be the one on the receiving end of that look in your eyes. 

“Would you stop that?” You muster up as much of a snip in your voice as you can. Your gaze gives away that you’re not really annoyed. It would be difficult to be, given the way your head is still spinning from his confession.    

“Stop what?” 

The smile on his face suggests he already knows. Nevertheless, you don’t give Minkyun the satisfaction of admitting he’s teasing you. “Just kiss me again,” you swerve to a demand. Frankly, it’s the main thing you’d been thinking since the first. You’ll figure out the rest of your feelings later. 

For now, Minkyun is hardly going to deny you that.

[trymedee]

They’d been hanging out a lot lately but Falon didn’t mind. Dave was an interesting character. Tonight she had some free time and had invited him over for dinner. At first she was going to keep it simple and order Chinese but considering he had helped her ass out with her photography, and talked her down from her panic attack and almost fucked her ass in the elevator the least she could do was treat him to a nice home cooked meal. Of course she had to be mindful of his religion and dietary restrictions so after thorough research she settled on fish and veggies.

Hearing a knock on the door she glanced at the time on the the stove before finding her way over to the door. Swinging it open, she faked an attitude crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

“You’re early. I didn’t even have time to look a little more decent.”

“Ma, you good.” Dave spoke liking his lips as his eyes roamed her frame. Glaring at him she stepped aside allowing him to enter her roommate free apartment.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Foods almost done.”

He nodded as she followed behind him. With the layouts to their apartments being similar he practically knew where he was going leading them to the kitchen. He leaned into the bar.

“Im gonna change. By the time I’m done food should be ready. I made fish and veggies. I hope it’s enough. I just didn’t wanna break your diet and I would’ve asked but I wanted it to be a surprise so I...” She was rambling like an idiot. It was his chuckles that got her to stop speaking and look at him.

“Fal, you good. Hurry up so we can eat. ”

“Make yourself comfortable.” Her final words before she left him by his lonesome and retreated to her room.

She returned about five minutes later dressed in a jumper with a crop top underneath.

As she entered the kitchen she placed a folder she had retrieved from her room down before dishing their plates. She served Dave before getting herself situated and taking the seat next to him.

“Does this seem too formal? We can sit in the living room if you like.”

“It’s whatever you want Falon”

“I just want you to be comfortable.”

“You sure you comfortable?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly though that clearly wasn’t the case. Falon couldn’t place why but she was nervous. They’d spent a little time together since their first encounter so she was unsure what had butterflies in her stomach. Nodding his head he signaled for her to get up. They walked over to the living room where they sat down and she turned on the tv offering him the remote. He decided to settle on a basketball game.

Conversation flowed between the two though Falon felt like she was interrupting his game but the fact that he had engaged with her showed maybe he just wanted the noise and didn’t necessarily care about the happenings of the game.

She had to admit the TV was helping. She didn’t feel as nervous.

“Oh so I finally got some prints of my photos. I wanna show you.” Placing her plate down she retrieved the folder bringing it over to Dave.

“Yoooo.” He drawled causing her to laugh. If that wasn’t the most New York thing she’d heard all day. “These shits is fire. Fuck around might have to blow one of these up and put it on my wall.”

Her cheeks heated up at the compliment. “I totally wouldn’t mind that.” She spoke truthfully. “Everyone loved them. The females in my class maybe a little too much.” She admitted knowing she wasn’t too happy with the thought.

“Oh word?” He asked. “Why you ain’t put shorty on?”

Falon rolled her eyes. “You don’t

She went to kiss his cheek but he moved his head causing

[anotherhamiltonblog]

Foreign Touch ch 4

Chapter Summary: Adeline and Thomas finally meet and go out! What do you think is gonna happen? Will things go smoothly or will things end in disaster?

Warnings: Once again, I didn’t proofread. Sorry <3 cursing? FLUFF annnnd Alexander being an asshat.

Word Count: 1,850 (Give or take)

Previously 

(new cover! made by ME. I like it!)

Enjoy!

Y/N really didn’t have much time to process what was going on when she was being woken up on Sunday. After spending all of Saturday with a group of kids to help them study at the public library. Only to come home and help Alex with his speech and work on the posters. Y/N was tired, her Saturday turned out to be busy, it didn’t help that she stayed up texting Thomas. In fact, that’s how she fell asleep. Phone on the pillow besides her head.

“Y/N!” a voice yelled out and Y/N groaned in response.

Opening an eye, she saw the time before narrowing her eyes. Who the hell was bothering her at 8 o’clock in the morning on Sunday?

“Y/N! Why the HELL are you texting Jefferson!” the voice yelled out again and this time Y/N sat up.

Seeing Alexander standing beside her bed, with her phone in his hand. Y/N’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I mean, I’m helping him with something.” She said slowly and shrugged.

“What? Why the fuck would you do that? He’s an asshole, remember? We all agreed on that!” Alex ranted off while Y/N got up and slipped on her house slippers.

As she walked out of her room, Alex right behind her. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“No, Alex… YOU said he’s an asshole because he beat you in the debate from History class in sophomore year!” she narrowed her eyes at her brother. Knowing full well their parents and friends were around and listening to them. “He never did shit to me. I ignored him so I wouldn’t put up with your bullshit complaining.”

“Now wait a minute….”

But Y/N never let him finish. “If the shoe fits wear it, Alex. You are the biggest drama queen I know. And I’m around cheerleaders all the time!”

Thanking her mom for the vitamin shake, she kissed her parents cheeks before turning around and heading back to her bedroom. Ignoring the boys as they tried to hide their laughter.

Y/N: ‘Wanna meet up to go over the plans?’ T. Jeff: ‘Thought you were gonna relax today? We can plan another day.’

Y/N found herself smiling at the text and stopped looking for an outfit to wear for the day to reply.

Y/N: ‘Well, Alex found out we’re talking. Got pissy… I need a distraction.’ T. Jeff: ‘Alright… stop by my house and we can plan. Thanks for this again.’

After they finished texting, Y/N pulled on some black skinny jeans and her black booties. A red tank top and black jacket over it. Deciding to add a colorful scarf along. With minimal makeup, just mascara, some concealer and lipstick (after brushing her teeth), Y/N made sure to spray some perfume.

As soon as Y/N was ready, she grabbed her purse and made sure to chuck her phone into the small bag before putting the strap around her shoulder. Placing sunglasses over her eyes, Y/N left her room and ignored the boys who were all sitting around the living room.

After leaving the cup she had taken to her room in the sink in the kitchen, she passed by the boys again to walk towards the front door.

“Hey! Y/N, where you going?”

“Oui, mon ange… why not stay with us?”

Y/N smiled at Hercules and Lafayette; she could always trust those two to want to hang out with her. “Sorry boys, I have plans.” She smiled waving. “But, lets get coffee tomorrow before school?” she raised an eyebrow and grinned at them.

Walking out of the house, to her car. Y/N froze when Alex called out to her.

“Tell me you aren’t going to see Jeffershit?” he asked, and Y/N had to bit down on her lip to not go off on Alex.

“Actually, I am. I promised I’d help him plan something. That’s what I plan on doing.” She sent her brother a fake smile before getting into her car.

“Oh, COME ON! He’s….” but Alex stopped talking when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Y/N glanced over and saw John was speaking to Alex. By the look on the boys face, he was not happy. Which made Y/N grin and nod to John who glanced at her.

Backing the car out of the driveway, Y/N was soon driving to the Jefferson’s house. The GPS in her car turned on and guiding her. Not that it took long, ten minutes later she was pulling up to a gate and she had to stop herself from laughing.

Pressing on the intercom button. Y/N waited. “How may I help you?” she heard a voice and with a sigh, Y/N leaned her head out the window.

“I’m here to see Thomas Jeffershi…. Uh Jefferson. My name is Y/N Hamilton.” She shook her head and waited a few more seconds before the gates opened.

Driving forward, Y/N finally parked in front of the house and got out. Rolling her eyes when she saw Thomas leaning against the front door frame with a house robe, slippers and his hair a mess.

“Jesus… you could have told me you weren’t even ready for the day!” Y/N laughed when stepping out of the car. Glancing at her watch on her wrist, it was just past 9:30.

Watching Thomas shrug, he grinned. “It seemed like you needed to get out of the house. Come on, breakfast is getting cold.” He nodded only to stand up straight as Y/N walked up the steps and finally reaching the front door.

“Breakfast? Trying to get on my good side, Tommy?” she wiggled her eyebrows and laughed at the scowl on his face at the nickname she called him.

“That ain’t cute. Don’t call me that, sweetheart.” He stepped inside and waited till Y/N was in before closing the door.

After breakfast, the two making small talk about what they did on Saturday. Y/N finding out that Thomas was at football practice almost all day, while she was tutoring all day before helping her brother.

“Can he not do his own speech?” Thomas asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, he does. But he has all of us over and hear it to make sure it sounds good… so it’s us sitting around, making his posters while he reads for six hours.” Y/N shrugged. The two laughed.

Once the food was devoured, Thomas showed Y/N around the house, only to stop at the backyard. “This is where I was thinking of having the party. Lots of space, my parents love barbeques, so we could do something simple, not too fancy.” He suggested, watching as Y/N had out a small notebook and pen. Writing down ideas, only to glance down and see she had done a simple sketch of his backyard.

The sketch was simple, it had the huge pool, the lots of space and the trees. “Right, so we could do something at night… we string up lights and balloons...” she spoke softly, walking around and looking at everything and down at her notepad. “Twenty-five years represents silver… so that would be lovely. It would be in December as well. So perfect for the wintertime.” She went on, not noticing the smile Thomas had on his face as he watched her.

After a few more minutes, she set down her things and turned to Thomas, grinning. “What?” she asked, laughing quietly under her breath.

“Nothing… it’s just. You are so adorable when you plan. It’s like you forget about everything. You get a cute smile on your face as well.” He shrugged, on to notice the light pink spreading on her cheeks. “Are…. Are you blushing?” he stepped forward and Y/N shook her head.

“Whaaaat… no.”

Gulping slightly, watching Thomas, Y/N snapped out of whatever trance he had her in and turned around. “Right, uh…” she blinked a few times, trying to think of what to even say.

“Come on, lets hang out a bit. Then I’ll treat you to dinner. You know, for being so kind to help me.”

With that, the two spent the next few hours laughing and watching tv. Talking about school, Thomas’ trip to Paris and spending a whole year there.

A little past 6:30 that evening, they agreed on a pizza place to have dinner at and left the house.

Never in a million years would Y/N have thought that she would spend a whole day with Thomas Jefferson and actually enjoy herself.

»»-————　♡　————-««

The next day when Y/N, Lafayette and Hercules were walking towards the football field, Y/N dressed in her cheer workout clothes. Which was just a pair of plain black leggings, a hot pink crop sports bra and her white tennis shoes. Her H/C hair was up in a ponytail. They were each complaining about the last class with Professor George Frederick. The big-headed idiot who thought too much of himself. That and his love for giving as much homework as he possibly can.

“It’s like he wants us to get held back!” Hercules was complaining and frowning as they sat down on the beachers and Y/N passing her bag and jacket over to them.

“It’ll be alright!” She laughed and winked at the two before jogging over to the girls. Only to turn quickly on her heal when someone called out her name.

Sadly, for Y/N, the grass of the field was slightly wet and as she turned, she slipped the slightest and was about to fall. Only the fall never came. Two hands grabbed onto her waist and her own hands grabbed onto a muscular set of arms.

With a gasp, eyes wide as she looked at the man in front of her. Her body feeling like she was shocked from the touch. Y/N watched as the skin where she had grabbed onto, had handprints that matched hers. The print slowly disappearing before her eyes and so her E/C eyes looked into the wide, brown eyed male who held onto her.

She focused on his eyes, which were darting back and fourth, shining in the sunlight. They were a deep, earthy brown- the intense gaze making it, so Y/N held her breath.

“Alexander is going to kill me…” Y/N said softly, a small smile coming onto her lips.

Thomas just grinned at the girl and he shrugged. “Not if he kills me first.” Was his response before he leaned down and captured her lips against his.

The dreams now made sense, why she kept dreaming of Thomas since he came back. The pull towards him whenever they were together. He was her soulmate, the one she was supposed to be with.

Cheering could be heard from the girls, the football team whistling and hooting. Y/N could even hear Lafayette and Hercules laughing and singing about how Alexander ‘ain’t gonna be happy now’ not that any of that mattered.

Wrapping her arms around Thomas shoulders, fingers making their way into his curly hair. Y/N pressed herself closer to his body as the kiss deepened.

Monday, who would have thought that Mondays would be Y/N’s new favorite day of the week?

                                                                                                   Next Chapter

Don’t forget to Like, Reblog and send Feedback! My asks are also opened and so is my IM! This was a rollercoaster to write.... I can’t wait to post the next chapter. 

Much love from me to you!!  ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

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[pastelgrungewrecker]

Lineage

I am my mother’s savage daughter- The one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones.

“I’m not a doctor type.”, Dani says flatly, letting lanky legs perch in willowbranch angles along the stoop, “I’m not patient, or soft, or careful.”

“None of us are, baby.”

Dani came in like a hurricane, sneezing a dustdevil and pulling twigs from her wildfire curls. Her bare feet were dirtcovered and her knees were scuffed from pinebark and cedar roots alike.

“Hey nana!”

Nana, her new name now, rocked in her rocking chair on the old sunbleach porch. The wood creaked alongside her old bones as the tap of her bare toes on the wood kept her momentum like a metronome, “Hey there wildfire- now what in Creation’s name were you up to?”

Dani brightened at the laugh in her grandmother’s voice before an old t shirt was pulled up to wipe away dust- showing a belt with the buckle tarnished and messy stitches that kept the waistband of her jeans on her narrow frame, “I was in the woods! Found some bird’s nests and deer tracks!”

Nana raised her eyebrows, “Deer, eh? Bout the season for ‘em. I’ll have ta letcher Papa know so we can have some good venison.”

“Pops hunts?”

“Ayup- he used ta, anyhow. Back when he was ‘bout your age he an’ I’d go on out and see what we could bag.”

Dani sat on the steps, legs sprawled and one arm propping her up- a youthful Artemis, not yet with bow or bitterness- and tilted her head. Her untamed waves and curls fell to the side- a pinecone rattled as it fell free.

Nana laughed then, rough and crackled and loud- like Dani’s voice did on the rare occasions she let herself laugh.

“Jus’ like him, mhm. A thicket baby you are; meant to run wild. You gonna be a medic like the rest’a’us?”

“I’m not a doctor type.”, Dani says flatly, letting lanky legs perch in willowbranch angles along the stoop, “I’m not patient, or soft, or careful.”

“None of us are, baby.”

Dani moves to hug her knobbed knees to a magpie’s chest, resting her sharp chin on them, “Kiki’s more a medic-type than me Nana. I’m loud and weird and I don’t.... y’know.”

“Know what?”

“I don’t FIT the whole... Ratchet Mold. Don’t really wanna, either. I saw what it did to First Aid! How... How angry it made him. How upset. Lonely. I’m lonely enough.”

Nana nodded, “Yep- us healers can get mighty lonely; I see you’re no different.”

“Nana, I’m not-”

Nana rose from her chair, her cane in hand and nodding at the door, “Come w’me child. It’s time to show you why your branches reach so sharp.”

Dani blinked, unfolding from her mycelium knot and creeping after her grandmother like a wary bobkit in the moonlight. The gentle tap-thud of her grandmother’s cane coupled with the creak of barefoot steps led them to the hallway wall leading to the stairs.

Nan reached up, muttering about needing to get rid of “dusty old shrouds and shit” as she tugged down the curtain turned wall-hanging.

“Whoa.”

Dani’s eyes blew wide. A line- A trail, a taproot of firey waves and curls. Of sharp chins and sharper eyes and bony frames mixed alongside bursts of wide chests and rounded hips.

She stared, her eyes reflected back at her with reckless demand and abandon.

One picture was tapped by Nana’s quick-short nail, “And that’s me, baby. Right there.”

“You... They’re all so BEAUTIFUL...”

Nana watched as Dani seemed to float to and fro in front of her family line. She watched her granddaughter hiccup softly, little fingers leaving new prints on old tintype, “Who’s this?”

“That’s my Great-Great-Gramma. She was Vaporex’s first Midwife, and then the first physician.”

“She’s... Gosh, she’s....”

“You look like she did once, baby.”, said Nana, stepping to stand beside her granddaugter, “Her hair was the brightest of alla us. Wavy and untamed. She’d pin it up with hairpins she made from barn shards and later her hubby, my Great-Great-Grandpap... He whittled her a haircomb from the cedars around us.”

Dani seemed frozen, turning back to the picture before leaning down and grabbing a corner of the discarded wall hanging to wipe away the dust and age. Her lip trembled when she saw a crooked smile she recognized from the mirror.

“Preventin’ pain is a healer’s business as much as mendin’ the wounds of the body. You’re a p’rtect’r. Sure as she was. As your great-gramma is. As I was, once. As your daddy is.”

Dani’s birdlike chest jumped with her shaking breath.

“We’re all made ‘f fire and old granite, wildfire. Not a one a’ us was some... soft voiced movie-made angel.”

Nana leaned her cane against the wall to let her hand gently rest against Dani’s cheek, “You fit, baby. You fit like the roots fit the soil. You fit like the lines in a field lay long. You fit like the moon and the sun fit in the sky.”

Dani closed her eyes before burrowing against her Nana, holding tight to a shawl that smelled of pipesmoke and bourbon and cinnamon sugar.

“Our line ain’t a mold. We’re a wood. We’re a thicket, with crows and thrushes and wild whitetail. We are made of cedar knees and pinebark and willow tea and you will ALWAYS belong, my baby. We are home, and you will always be welcome in our arms. You got our hair, our eyes, our words. A sharp tongue and a sharp mind. You belong.”

Dani nodded.

“Now, let’s gitcha some lunch, sugar. I can hear that empty hole you call a belly bout ta grumble at me.”

Nana’s hand moved to tickle Dani’s narrow side and she crowed her cackling laugh- Her eyes glimmering like creekstones after the thaw as her Nanaran fingers knowingly through wild hair.

“And then I needa find a good comb for that HAIR my lordy alive child. Really just full on takin’ after your Papa-”

“Someone call f’r me?”, asked Ratchet as he opened the door- showing twigs and leaves poking out of his dusty hair as he tucked the rifle under his arm, “I was about t’go on into the woods cause I saw deertracks-”

“DAD I KNOW WHERE THOSE ARE- Nana can we have sammiches? That way me and Pops can head out while we eat-”

Nana snorted, rolling her eyes as Dani and Ratchet looked at her with matching bright eyes and wild grins.

“Yeah, yeah- inta that kitchen now, we’ll get a cooler packed for ya-”

Three sets of barefoot steps trailed back to the tile floor of the kitchen as the sun glinted a little lower, as though waving at the shadow of a moon ready for it’s rise.

[icefire149]

Happy Birthday Dean Winchester!!! 

I wanted to write a little something and this ended up spiraling into something longer than I planned.  (2,231 words) (Also please forgive me for any spelling errors. It’s after 3am) Enjoy!~

/////

For Dean, the weeks and months following Chuck’s defeat went by in a dizzying, unrecognizable blur. Despite Sam and Eileen’s best efforts to take care of Dean, he spent the majority of his time buried deep in the bunker’s archive. A lot of the time Jack is with him.

There was an ache in his chest that feared what stupid things he might have done by now if the kid wasn’t right there. Helping him. Talking to him. Actually getting to bond with him without Chuck’s interference. It was the one good thing in this fucked up situation right now.

So far their search for anything about the Empty was a disaster. There was virtually nothing. More and more often Jack would apologize. With his new position as God, yes, he could make a doorway into the Empty. That much they did know for a fact. But could he put them to sleep? Could he kill them? What would be the consequences of that?

The only other thing that they knew for certain was that the Empty could claw their way into Heaven and tear it all down. That was the only thing that was keeping Jack from snapping his fingers and restoring Cas right then and there.

It was tearing them both apart, but regardless, they continued their search.

Today, Dean opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. It was his birthday. Most years he spent it like any other normal day, but this one….after the Mrs. Butters incident…Sam and him had decided they should be throwing real celebrations. It was one thing when they were living out of motel rooms and the impala. It was completely understandable. But now they have a permanent home. So why not?

He knew now why not…..there was no point in celebrating a man that’s only half here.

Dean closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep the day away. He didn’t realize that he had fallen back asleep until he was startled awake by a pounding on his bedroom door. He shot up to a sitting position in bed, chest pounding and eyes wide with fear. It was a moment before he realized that he was in his room and not….

“Hey Dean? You up yet?”

His heart rate was still slowing, but he recognized the voice. Sam.

“I’m awake now. What’d you want?”

“Lunch is ready. I figured you’d wanna eat by now.”

“Fine. Be up soon.”

When Dean was dressed and ready as he would ever be, he opened his bedroom door. He stood there blinking in confusion for several moments. There were balloons tied to the doors of every room down the hallway.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he followed the balloons into the kitchen where the party decorations looked like they threw up. There was a happy birthday banner over the kitchen doorway and balloons….so many goddamn balloons everywhere.

“Surprise!” Jack popped up out of his chair and crossed the kitchen to hug him. “Sam let me decorate for your birthday. He told me I had to contain it to one room though.”

Jack took a step back with a look of concern. “Is that okay?”

“What about the hallway?”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “A hallway by definition isn’t a room.”

That set Dean off in a fit of belly deep laughter. He slapped a reassuring hand onto Jack’s shoulder. “You did awesome kid.”

Jack’s mouth pulled into a beaming smile. He went back to where he was sitting, and Sam came into the kitchen.

“Good. I didn’t think you were ever getting up.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Good to see your face too, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes and started pulling plates out. Dean went and sat by Jack.

“So what’s for lunch? I’m not seeing anything.”

Sam brought the plates over. “Well, you slept through the pancakes Jack helped me make this morning. Eileen should be here any minute with lunch.”

Dean shot Jack a look. “Sorry kid.”

“It’s okay. They were really good.”

“What’s Eileen bringing?” Dean turned his attention to Sam, but before he could answer Eileen came walking through the door.

“I hope everyone’s hungry.” She placed a stack of three white boxes on the table.

The familiar bakery smell hit him instantly. He pointed at the boxes. “Is that?”

Eileen grinned and crossed her arms. “Sam told me you liked pie.”

“Thank you, you majestic, wonderful being.” He turned his gaze to Sam. “You better marry her.”

That got Eileen laughing while Sam ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed.

Dean grinned and made eye contact with Eileen. “I’m so sorry, I know you can do so much better than Sam too.”

She laughed again, and then her mouth curled into a teasing smile. “I know, Dean. I know.”

“OKAY.” Sam clapped his hands together. “Can we move on from the embarrassing Sam portion of today?”

They eventually did. For a long time the three of them sat in the kitchen laughing, telling stories, and eating way too much pie. At one point Sam handed a big gift bag to Dean.

“It’s…from Jack and I.” Sam sounded unsure.

“I hope you like it,” Jack added.

Dean opened it to find several wrapped in tissue paper objects. Soon enough he found out that they were all various framed pictures. Silently, he spread them all out over the table so he could stare at them all.

There were pictures going back a decade. Easily. There were so many smiles and glares and candid shots. Fuck they were all so young looking.

Charlie in her Queen of Moondoor costume. Mom with a bowl of popcorn. Kevin and Sam asleep surrounded by piles of books. Claire on her 18th birthday with the ugly stuffed cat doll. Rowena moments before she hexed the camera. Jack looking amazed at the giant multi-scoop ice cream cone Dean bought him against Sam’s wishes. Kevin and Linda at Garth’s safe-houseboat. Dean, Sam, and Bobby at one of the cabins fishing. The hectic attempt at a family photo from Jody’s. Garth and his family. And Cas…..there were so many just of Cas or ones with him present or ones of just the two of them.

Sam coughed awkwardly. “I know you’ve been saying for a couple years now that you wanted to start printing some of the pictures we’ve been dumping onto one of the old laptops. So I thought….”

“Thank you, Sammy.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pictures. Especially the candid he’d never seen before. It was of him and Cas leaning against the side of the impala, completely lost in their own bubble of conversation. Dean felt like there was a cinder block dropped into his stomach. “You did good.”

And he meant it. Still, it hurt to remember everyone he lost.

“Oh, I think you missed one,” Jack said poking at the bag.

He was right, Dean realized when he reached a hand in and pulled out a smaller wrapped frame.

Sam laughed. “I forgot about that one.”

Dean opened it and burst into uncontrollable laughter. It was a picture from his mark of cain days of him and Crowley in matching cowboy hats. As much as he didn’t want to remember those days, he still couldn’t bring himself to delete the picture. “I miss that dumb son of a bitch.”

“Hey!” Sam chimed in. “That’s insulting to Rowena.”

That had Dean laughing again. “Well, she can take a number kicking my ass. You know the moment Cas sees this he’s gonna use it and me as his personal dartboard.”

The words slipped out before he could even process it. Sam’s smile faded. Dean’s laughter turned into crying. No one said anything while Dean fought to compose himself. He was grateful for that.

When Dean’s face was dry and he dared lift his head up, Jack asked him about the people in the photos.  And that’s how they spent the rest of the afternoon. It was hard to imagine his life without Jack being present somewhere so he was happy to indulge the technically toddler in what the people in the pictures were like. All the stories Dean could pull from his memory. It hurt initially, but after a while he felt lighter.

Later that day Dean was taking a break in his room when Sam peeked in the ajar door. “What’d you need, Sam?”

“I-uh…” He stepped into the room. A neatly wrapped in green box with a card on top was in his hands. “I have one last thing to give you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but isn’t another present going overboard? What gives?”

“It’s not from me.”

“Oh. Hand it here then.” Excited, Dean sat on the edge of his bed and held his hands out.

Sam stepped forward, but he didn’t hand the box over. “It’s from Cas.”

Dean’s hands fell down, and Sam was happy he waited. “What’s in the box?”

Sam placed it on the bed next to Dean. He shrugged. “I don’t know. He asked me quite a while ago to hang onto it.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I figure he thought you’d be least likely to find it if it was in my room.”

Dean cracked a small smile at that. His chest felt like it split open just to ache again. He knew why Cas asked Sam to hold onto it. “Thanks Sammy.”

Sam left the room, closing the door behind him. It took a while before Dean could muster up the courage to open the card.

His hands shook as he pulled the folded over pieces of paper out of the envelope. Turns out instead of a generic store bought card, Cas wrote him a letter. It was a bittersweet sight. Despite how devastated he normally felt whenever he thought about Cas, he was good seeing his handwriting. In his hands was actually a new message from Cas. A message from Cas to him!

Happy Birthday Dean,

If you’re reading this then that means I failed. I wanted to burn this letter to ashes, but clearly I’m not there to do that. I’m so sorry, truly. I’m not sure what could have happened to bring us here, but I need to confess something important. I know you said no more deals when Jack died, but I still made a deal with the Empty anyways.

When I went to Heaven to bring Jack’s soul back to his body things didn’t go as planned. The Empty was furious Jack’s human half sent him to Heaven. It tore through Heaven like it was tissue paper. I did what I had to for Jack, and for Heaven. My life for his.

I don’t regret it. But the Empty did promise not to claim me until I gave myself permission to be truly happy. I’m still trying to puzzle out exactly what that could be. My family on Earth: Sam, Jack, and you - make me happy each and every day. I need you to remember that.

Please be safe and live a happy life. You are so loved by your friends and family. They need you for the next several decades. I mean it Dean. (I may have been curing you of liver and heart disease every year on your birthday. Well fixing to the best of my abilities the damage you keep causing on those poor organs.)

I hope you enjoy the present I picked out. Quite honestly, I got it because it made me laugh.

I miss you.

Castiel

Dean felt like a tangled mess of emotions. He needed to remember to breathe. Minutes later he carefully tore open the green wrapping paper. Curiosity poked at him. With Cas’ odd sense of humor, it could have been anything in the box.

Under the wrapping paper was a generic cardboard box, but inside were a handful of new cassette tapes. Dean fell over to be laying on his side. Laughing happily for quite a while, he studied each and every tape. They were all cassettes of modern music, specifically the pop artists Cas loved so much. The ones Dean used to tease Cas about while they’d be out on long drives.

He immediately knew which memory Cas was thinking of when he planned this. Dean remembered they were in the impala and Cas wasn’t in the mood for any of Dean’s old tapes. He teased that anything that came out after cassette tapes wasn’t real music. And only real music got to play in the impala.

Closing his eyes, Dean could picture the smug look Cas would be wearing right now. Tears started bubbling free from his eyelids. God he missed Cas with every ounce of his being.

A while later Dean got up and left his room, taking the tapes with him. He went for a long drive circling the neighboring towns while he worked through several of the tapes. If he relaxed enough, he could almost imagine Cas sitting in the front seat next to him, mumbling along to the lyrics of the songs he liked most.

Dean vowed that this time next year things would be different. He was owed a birthday wish and this was it: next year he’d be somewhere warm with his toes buried in the sand, and he’d have Sam, Eileen, Jack, and Cas with him.