#i spent like fifteen straight hours on this pls

[laughingsapphic-creates]

God I don't think I've posted art online since I was active on deviantart

I wanna draw some dpxdc comics so I wanted to get used to drawing my boy

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary: Back in the same city once again, Azriel and Elain are no longer able to ignore what's simmering between them

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: smut. just smut. (18+ pls and ty)

Missed the first seven chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: hello again friends, i'm baaaaack :)

Once again, I must begin by saying thank you for all your lovely comments and messages on my fics and on my wip wednesday posts because they truly keep me going 💕 I hope you enjoy this next installment.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Azriel couldn’t keep his foot from tapping against the linoleum floor of the Velaris airport as he kept an eager eye on the escalator that descended into the tiny arrivals hall. 

He’d picked Elain up from this airport a number of times when she’d gone on work trips or holidays with her sisters. But he’d never picked her up like this - waiting for her inside instead of on the curb. Waiting for her with this new situation between them ever present in the back of his mind just as it had been ever since the morning after Christmas when they’d unexpectedly gotten a little too carried away in his workshop.

He had the thought that maybe he should’ve brought some flowers with him today - if only to have something to do with his hands because right now he couldn’t decide whether to keep them in or out of his pockets and so he’d been fidgeting like a madman for the last fifteen or so minutes. It was a wonder airport security hadn’t confronted him for suspicious behaviour. 

The issue with bringing flowers was that they were headed straight to Nesta and Cassian’s house for the long weekend and the thought of explaining why he’d bought Elain flowers to her brother-in-law was enough to give him a headache. 

He’d already received a look from Rhys when he’d volunteered to pick her up under the pretence that it would make life easier for him and Feyre but maybe he’d been too eager given the speed with which he’d offered when they’d been discussing the logistics for this weekend. 

But Azriel couldn’t have possibly kept his cool. Not when the last time he’d seen her in person he’d had to drop her off at her sister’s house without so much as a kiss on the cheek because Nesta had been standing outside, waiting for her on the porch with a look on her face that hovered somewhere between worry and disappointment, as if Elain were a wayward teenager who’d snuck out for the night. 

It’d been months of separation and now she was once again back for her nephew’s birthday and though they’d been in near constant contact - texts, phone calls, hours spent on Facetime each evening - he couldn’t wait to see her again and he was desperate for a bit of time alone with her - even if it was just the forty five minute drive from the airport to Nesta’s house on the outskirts of town. 

Azriel raised up on his toes and then back down again - made note that perhaps he’d been spending too much time with Feyre because he’d clearly picked up that nervous habit from her - and then focused his attention back to the escalator again just in time to see a girl with brown hair cascading over her shoulders, a bright smile on her cherry red lips, and pretty eyes that were already set on him. 

There were no words for the way that first glimpse of her made him feel. No possible way to describe the rush he felt in his chest or the anxious itch of his palms. For all the slack he caught for keeping his feelings to himself and hardly ever letting his emotions show on his face, now his cheeks actually hurt from the way he was grinning as Elain not so casually rushed across the floor to him before abandoning her bags and launching herself into his arms. 

He caught her easily, lifting her up with his arms wrapped tight around her middle - savouring the feel of her hands as they wove through the strands of his dark hair. 

“Hi,” Elain giggled, resting her forehead against his. 

“Hi, Lain,” Azriel smiled back, carefully setting her back down on her feet so he could move his hands from her waist up to her face, tilting her chin up to him before he lowered his lips to hers. 

He felt the momentary hesitation, the bit of slight shock. He thought for a split second that maybe he’d pushed his luck with her, taken it too far, but the feeling was short lived because he soon felt her relax in his arms, melting into the kiss - melting into him. He knew what would’ve been going through her head. Knew that she’d paused for a moment because they’d never had this before - the chance to be so open, to put on such a display of affection where anybody in their small town could see them.

“Missed you,” she whispered against his lips, suddenly shy. Her face was flushed, eyes shimmering as she pulled back and looked at him. 

“Missed you, too.” Azriel whispered back, pecking her cheek once more for good measure. “Ready to go?” He asked, waiting for her nod of confirmation before reaching for her suitcase with one hand and taking her hand in the other because he simply couldn’t keep from touching her in some small way. 

The walk to the car was quick, quiet words exchanged about the flight as they walked - turbulent to start but otherwise fine. He knew how much she hated landings and so he’d given her hand a squeeze when she relayed with a small laugh the way she’d gripped the armrest, wishing he’d been there to hold her hand instead. 

There’d also, much to his chagrin, been a slight moment of embarrassment when Azriel started his car only for music to start blaring from the speakers - a bass heavy club track with female vocals that featured on his rotation of music he listened to whilst at the gym. He’d been listening to it on the way to the airport at top volume to keep his mind distracted.

Elain had looked over at him, a teasing grin on her lips and one sharp eyebrow raised as he sheepishly lowered the volume and quickly picked up his phone, switching to an indie folk song that was more indicative of the style of music he typically listened to throughout the day. “I see your club rat days aren’t completely behind you, after all.” 

Azriel chuckled as he threw an arm around her headrest and put the car in reverse, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking spot. 

“Only within the constraints of this car and the gym, I’m afraid.” 

“Shame… I was hoping to see you with some glow sticks in hand again. It’s been awhile.”

Azriel shook his head at how much amusement she was getting out of this moment. He’d had a reputation in his college days for enjoying a good night out and while Elain had only witnessed him in his prime party days a couple of times, she’d never let him forget it. “Don’t worry, I keep the glow sticks in the glove compartment and pull them out at red lights to entertain myself sometimes.” 

“Very funny,” Elain rolled her eyes, settling into her seat and looking out the window as she quietly hummed along to the song that was now playing. 

Azriel watched her out of the corner of his eye, enjoying having her as a passenger in his car once again, happily chattering away about what they’d been up to and what this weekend had in store for them. It wasn’t until they were on the last five or so miles to their destination that he noticed how quiet she’d gotten a little over halfway into the drive, the conversation dying down into what he believed to be a comfortable silence. 

But the more the silence continued, the more suspicious he got.  He’d caught her twice now not-so-subtly sneaking long glances at him while she fidgeted with her necklace and shifted repeatedly in her seat, legs crossing and uncrossing as if she couldn’t get comfortable. It was dark out but he could just about spot a little crease between her brows - a dead giveaway she had something on her mind. 

He’d just opened his mouth to ask about it when she looked over at him. 

“Could you pull over?”

“What?” Azriel frowned, looking over at her as he slowed down, approaching the end of the long, dark road they were on. “Are you okay?” 

His own forehead creased in concern as he scanned her from head to toe. He didn’t know what he was looking for, could barely even see her properly now that the sun had fully set behind the mountains. 

“Yeah, I’m fine… I just… I… can you turn down here?” Elain gestured to the left where the paved road turned to dust and gravel - no street lights to be seen. They were supposed to go right and over the train tracks before turning into Nesta and Cassian’s neighbourhood. 

Azriel turned left as directed, driving a little further down the road before pulling to the side and putting the car in park. He twisted in his seat to face her, the dim lights from the dashboard doing little to help him see her.

“Lain, what’s wr-,” Azriel didn’t get a chance to finish his question because Elain was unbuckling her seatbelt and was halfway over the centre console of his car a second later - her lips fused to his neck, her hand skimming the waistband of his jeans. 

“Can we,” her hand slid along his jaw, turning his face toward hers. Her lips were inches from his. “Please, Az. Let me…”

The other hand that settled low on his waist slid down further, fingers gently palming him where his body had begun to catch on far quicker than his mind. 

“Fuck,” Azriel let out an involuntary groan, his hips keening upwards into her touch. “Jesus, Lain…here? Now?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. She breathed in the scent of him, tracing a path with her mouth to his ear where he felt her teeth just barely graze his ear lobe. “Been thinking about it all day long… this whole drive, on the plane, when I was at home. Want you in my mouth.”

Azriel cursed again under his breath, so caught off guard by her uncharacteristically brazen words to even notice that she’d undone the button and zipper of his jeans until he felt her fingers wrap around him, lightly dragging up his quickly hardening length. Just a tease of a touch that had him breathless.

He shouldn’t be surprised that she was acting like this - so out of her mind with the need to have him that she’d gone as far as to make him pull over when they were mere minutes away from seeing her family.

She’d been so eager a time or two on those late night calls, after all. Had only vaguely pretended to be shy when after hours of exchanging increasingly salacious texts, he asked if she’d undress for him. She’d nodded, a pretty blush creeping up her neck as she slowly took off her clothes and propped her laptop between her legs, dutifully following his instructions - lower, slower, yes, just like that… good girl -  until she was coming for him, rapid breaths, his name muttered into her pillow, the light from her computer screen casting her perfect skin in hues of blue.

“Come here,” he groaned, suddenly impatient, overcome with the need to have her - wanting to give her what she was begging for. He unbuckled his own seatbelt and pushed his seat back as far as it would go, helping her over the console and onto his lap, chuckling when her ass hit the horn. She maintained her focus, kissing him once, twice, then shifting down - squeezing herself into the space between his legs, her knees on the floor of the driver’s side, her hands on his thighs, her lips tracing a path around the head of his cock. 

It was like something out of a wet dream. It was every filthy fantasy he’d ever had. Elain on her knees, signature deep red lipstick staining his skin like a map of all the places her lips had explored. Heavy lidded eyes watering as she took him into her mouth - deeper, then deeper still, until he felt the back of her throat, heard the soft choking sound of her taking just a bit too much.

“Careful,” Azriel whispered, gathering her long hair in his fist and holding it back so that it stayed out of her way and gave him the view he was after.

Elain drew back, taking a deep breath as she smiled up at him - eyes glazed over with lust. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” she dragged her tongue over his head, her fist tightening and twisting around him. “For years.”

“Yeah?” It’s all he could manage because she was back to it, that torturous mouth making him see stars. The way she hummed around him in confirmation brought him right to the edge. Only a few minutes and she already had him there, thighs tensing as he tried to hold back just a second longer. “Elain… I’m gonna,” he tried to warn her. Tried to give her the option. But she kept going, nails digging into his thighs, almost smiling around him as he tugged at her hair so her eyes were focused on his as he spilled into her mouth with a loud groan.

He watched in a daze the motion of her throat as she swallowed, taking everything he gave her in stride until he was completely spent. He released her hair,carefully tucking it behind her ear as she dragged her tongue over him one last time.

Azriel reached down after she pulled off him, thumbing at her full bottom lip - now slick with spit. “This mouth… all I’ve been thinking about is your mouth. These lips, that lipstick - thought about it on my cock.”

“Hope I lived up to your expectations,” she smiled, shy once again.

“Exceeded them,” he slipped his thumb further between her lips, shaking his head when she playfully dragged her teeth over the pad of it as if she just couldn’t help herself. He had to pull back, keep his hands to himself before he abandoned all plans and hauled her into the back seat of his truck to return the favour.

Elain pressed small kisses to his thighs and his chest as she did her best to make him presentable again before settling back on his lap with her arms around his neck, her face once again tucked into his neck. “Thank you.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned back to look at her, hands cupping her face. “Think I should be thanking you.”

She shook her head, smiling at him. “Needed that.”

All he could do was grin at her stupidly, tracing her cheeks and then her lips, before he kissed her. Slow. Deep. In no rush. 

To hear that she wanted him like that, needed him… he could almost come again just from the thought of her feeling that way. He was so in over his head, so deeply gone for her.

“Az,” she swallowed, biting down on her lip. “We should go… before the girls send a search party.” 

“You’re right,” he nodded, hands squeezing her ass once more before helping her back over the console and into her seat. He righted himself, readjusted his seat, and turned the engine back on. He started driving back towards the train tracks - his hand on her thigh, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The memory of a moment on a dirt road now a secret just between them - nothing but the stars in the night sky as their witness.

…

Filthy. 

It was downright filthy the way Elain felt about him. Filthy the way she walked into her sister’s house knowing her lipstick was on Azriel’s body, crudely smeared under his jeans. Filthy, the way she could still feel his fingers threaded through her hair - the gentle tug of his fist until her eyes were on him so he could watch as she swallowed. Filthy the way she wanted to avoid eating or drinking if only to keep the taste of him in her mouth just a little bit longer. 

She’d wanted it from the second she’d gotten ready for the airport, slipping on her favourite underwear while imagining him taking it off her. She’d wanted to make him feel the way he’d made her feel a time or two now - knew that he wouldn’t be keeping count but still, she’d been itching for it and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out as soon as she first spotted Azriel upon arrival at the Velaris airport. It was a miracle she’d even lasted that far into the drive. It was even more of a miracle that she’d been able to stop after all was said and done considering that now, hours later, there was a persistent ache between her legs the begged to be attended to. 

Arriving at Nesta’s house had been a much needed distraction. She’d checked her appearance in the visor mirror just to make sure there wasn’t any incriminating evidence of what they’d done lingering on her skin and then climbed out of the car just in time for the front door to swing open and her nephew to appear at the top of the stairs, shouting her name in excitement. 

From there, she’d been dragged into the house - taken on a tour of the toys and books he’d forced his parents to drag along for the weekend - before he finally handed her over to the adults when the excitement faded and the sleepiness took over. 

She was happy to be back in this house with her favourite people. It was so different from the last time she’d been here, when Graysen had been glued to her hip, his eyes carefully keeping track of her every move. The last time she’d been here, she’d told Azriel that they couldn’t be friends - at least not like they had once been. 

She couldn’t believe just how much had changed in such a short span of time. She couldn’t wrap her head around just how differently everything had panned out. Now she was back in one of her favourite places, no overbearing boyfriend in sight. And yes, she and Azriel weren’t friends, certainly not like they had once been. But it was true in a much different way than she’d anticipated and she couldn’t possibly be happier about it. 

It had been so easy to fall back into old patterns with him - the comfortable ease of their long friendship rekindled as if the year or two of limited communication had never happened. But while those first few weeks after Christmas were just like old times - friendly conversations talking about everything and nothing - at some point their daily phone calls escalated, certain things slipping out with the darkening of the sky and a couple glasses of wine. 

They’d sp0ken about their situation a few times over the phone. She’d confided in him about Graysen - about the mistakes made and the lessons she’d learned. About her hesitancy to jump straight into another relationship. So they’d agreed to keep things casual, to not label anything just yet. Still, it was evident by the constant tension between them, that they were undeniable more than just friends.

Perhaps that should’ve been obvious, given that the last time she’d seen him in person he’d had his head between her legs and it would’ve gone further had Nesta not rudely interrupted. 

She’d hated leaving him like that and had been so eager to see him afterwards but the New Year's rush had been hard to avoid at work for both of them and so they’d ended up agreeing to see each other when she visited for Nyx’s birthday - and to keep this new development just between them- until they could plan their next steps. 

That’s how they ended up in this house - Elain unable to look Azriel in the eye for more than a few seconds while surrounded by their family and friends without thinking of everything she wanted to do with him. She’d been more than happy to entertain Nyx and to help prep dinner. To do absolutely anything that would keep her busy so that she didn’t have time to think about the way she could feel him sneaking looks at her every time they were in the same room. With the distraction of other people, she could push aside the desire coursing through her for just a moment. 

Somehow, Elain had made it through the night successfully. She hadn’t raised any suspicions. Had managed to interact with him in a way that was just the right amount of friendly. But now, laying in the bedroom she always stayed in at Nesta’s house, all she could think of was him. Of what they’d done in the car on the way here just three or four hours ago. 

She wanted him again. Wanted his hands on her body. Wanted his tongue in her mouth. Felt like she needed him in a way that was borderline embarrassing. 

She picked up her phone, opening their text thread. She typed and deleted multiple messages before locking her phone and putting it face down on the nightstand. It felt too desperate to text him like that. Juvenile almost. But it was torture - each shift of her legs, the soft touch of the sheets, the feel of her t-shirt twisting around her sensitive skin - it all added to her incessant need. Her nipples were hard peaks and there was a thrumming low in her core that was becoming impossible to ignore. She’d never in her life felt frustration like this, pinpricks of sweat gathering at her hairline. 

She knew this wasn’t something that she’d be able to work away herself like she did when she was alone at home and desperate for him- in bed, her fingers stroking between her thighs.

Elain sat up, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. She needed air. A glass of cold water. And if she walked by his room… if she happened to see the glow of a light underneath the gap in his door, then that would be the sign she needed. Maybe then she’d knock. And if he happened to be awake, if he happened to open the door, then she’d feign ignorance - was just going to the kitchen and saw your light was on… 

With her mind made up, she slipped on her robe and padded to the door with the intention of venturing to the kitchen but she didn't make it far at all, pulling the door open only to almost walk face first into the solid wall of Azriel’s chest.

“Oh,” she swallowed, dragging her eyes up to his face. 

He looked just as dishevelled as she felt, his hair tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it. 

“I was just going to the kitchen because I needed some -”

“Save it,” he shook his head, voice low as he stepped towards her, forcing her to retreat back into her room. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, too distracted by the look of determination in his eyes as twisted her around and quickly closed the door behind them.

Her entire body sparked to life, burning as he reached for her again, both hands firm on her hips until she was completely pressed up against the door with nowhere to go, his hips flush against hers, not even a single inch left between them. It was that movement that made her snap out of the daze, it was the feel of him hard and heavy against her stomach that left no room for questioning what he was here for or that his intentions matched exactly what she’d had in mind while she’d been tossing and turning in her bed. 

Azriel wasted no time, hands deftly undoing the tie of her robe, reaching up to slip it off her shoulders until it fell to their feet. His fingers were under her t-shirt a moment later, fingertips skimming the soft curve of her breasts. 

“Az, wait…” Elain breathed, trying to put a bit of space between them if only to clear her head a little. “Feyre and Rhys…”

“Don’t wanna hear names that aren’t mine right now,” he said gruffly, rolling his hips against hers.

“It’s just that they’re right next door. I share a wall and they could hear…” 

Azriel only smirked down at her, thumbs circling her sensitive nipples. “Guess you’ll just have to be quiet then won’t you. Do you think you can manage that?”

She knew he was being smart with her, knew that he remembered just how not quiet she’d been the last time he’d had his hands on  her like this. But her rational brain had seemed to vacate the premises and so instead of offering some sort of rebuttal back, Elain was muttering something like I can be so quiet, I promise I’ll be so quiet as she turned them around, tugging him down towards her and pulling him to the floor. 

“Right here?” Azriel raised an eyebrow, hands travelling up her legs and under the hem of her oversized t-shirt, leaving goosebumps in their path, until his fingers curled into the straps of the lacy underwear she wore.

“Yes,” Elain nodded, not bothering to explain that the headboard would likely be an issue for them. She lifted her hips up to make it easier for him to tug her underwear down her legs. “Here. Now. Need you.” 

“I know,” Azriel soothed, hands pushing her shirt up her torso before lifting it off her head, leaving her sprawled out underneath him - naked on the carpet. “I know, angel.” 

Elain bit down on her lip, watching as he quickly stripped out of his own clothes before lowering himself over her. One big palm was placed on her thighs, calloused hand spreading her wide in a way that would’ve made her blush if she wasn’t so focused on the blissful feeling of his weight settling on top of her and pinning her to the floor.

That same hand maneuvered in between their bodies, fingers easily parting her and slipping through her center - teasing and testing. He cursed under his breath, clearly pleased with what he found there. “You’re so fucking wet already, I think you could take me just like this but I’d like to taste -”

“No,” she shook her head quickly, blindly reaching between them to grip his cock, guiding it to where she was wet and ready for him. “Please.”

The feeling of him settling against her entrance was divine, and her back arched in search for more.

“Wait, fuck.” Azriel stopped all of a sudden. “Condom… they’re in my room. I can just go and…”

Elain locked her legs around him, nails pressed into his shoulder blades to keep him from moving any further away. She couldn’t bear for him to leave. Couldn’t possibly waste one more second with him when they were already so short on time. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill and I haven’t… there’s no one else so if you’re good then I’m good.”

“I’m good, Lain.” Azriel nodded quickly, relaxing a little as he once again situated himself, dragging his cock through her once before he pushed in just the tiniest bit so she could feel that beautiful pinch of initial pressure. “You sure?”

“Yes, fuck, pl-” her words were choked off with a gasp as Azriel pushed into her so slowly, each incredible inch of him sinking into her until there was nowhere else for him to go. 

His lips skated over her jaw until they found her own, kissing her sweetly as he withdrew out almost all the way before sliding in again. “There’s no one else, Lain. Just you.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes fluttered open to look at him as he sank into her. 

“Yeah, that’s how it’s gonna be now. Isn’t that right, angel?” He whispered as he plunged into her over and over again - slow, decadent drags of his cock that had her whimpering beneath him. “Just you for me and me for you.”

“Yes,” Elain nodded frantically, hips bucking up against his, desperate for more.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” Azriel read her signs and lifted her knee, pushing it up and out to the side, allowing for a deeper fit that had her biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“I’m yours. Fuck, fuck, I’m yours.” Elain moaned, lips seeking his mouth for another kiss. 

She didn’t know what had gotten into him but she relished in it. Body growing taut at the suggestion of belonging to him. Maybe it was the distance for him as well, the time spent apart, that had him just as crazed as she had been. Just as feral. 

It was so good. So fucking incredible to have him like this, so deep inside her, making her feel so unbelievably good that she couldn’t even think straight. It was undeniable that this was more than sex. Despite the carnal urge they’d both felt, this had to be more than just physical desire between them. She couldn’t get enough. Wanted even more. 

“Az?” Elain raked her nails up his back, tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck until his eyes were on her. “Will you fuck me?”

She could see the look of confusion in his eyes, the little crinkle on his forehead as if he was trying to figure out if that wasn’t exactly what they were currently doing. It took a second but she could pinpoint the exact moment he caught on to what she meant because his eyes darkened and his lips twitched.

“You want it a little harder, hm? A little rough? I’ll give you whatever you want.” He pulled out of her, kneeling back and nodding as he looked down at her. “Turn over. Get on your knees.”

Elain bit down on the inside of her cheek, nervous anticipation coursing through her as she flipped over as directed. Her hands and knees were on the floor as she turned back to look at him, watching as he knelt behind her, hands kneading her ass . He gave her no warning before lining himself up and pushing into her in one rough, hard thrust - knocking the air clear out of her. 

She hadn’t even noticed that she’d made a noise until his chest pressed into her back, his hand covering her mouth as he nipped at a spot just below her ear. “Thought I told you to be quiet.” 

She loved him like this. Loved the authority. The dominance. The control. She needed it sometimes and she loved that he did as she wanted, fucking her properly without making her feel like any of the other men she’d been with had made her feel in moments like this. Because for each rough movement, there was praise. 

You’re doing so well, angel.  Azriel told her as he gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You feel so fucking good. As he placed a hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her down into the rug to create the perfect arch of her back.

Look how pretty you look when I’m fucking you. So beautiful when you’re taking me. As he fisted her hair, roughly turning her head until she caught their reflection in the mirror hanging on the closet door beside them.

“Az!” Her voice was muffled slightly by the carpet, her eyes hazy as she watched him fuck her - the measured snap of his hips, the flex of his arms as he gripped her hair, her hips, her ass. He was so strong, so assured in his motions as he easily positioned her just how he liked. 

She hoped and prayed that these walls were solid enough to block out noise because while she was doing her absolute best to stay quiet, there was nothing to be done about the sound of his skin hitting hers each time he fucked into her. Nothing to be done about the sinful, slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of her given how wet she was.

“What is it, Elain?” He asked. “Tell me what you need.”

“More,” she begged. She didn’t even really know what she wanted but she knew she wanted more of him. More of his touch. More of his words. Just more of him. “I’m so… I’m so close, please, I just need more.” 

Azriel slowed his thrusts, pulling gently on her hair until she was up on her knees, her back tight to his chest. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her lips were on his neck tasting the salty skin there. 

“Feel like you were made for me.” His arms wound around her. One arm snaking up between her breasts to put slight pressure on her throat as he held her up. The other arm drifted down her torso until his fingers found her throbbing clit, his thumb smoothing quick circles there as he continued to push into her with deep, powerful thrusts. She pulsed around him, her stomach pulling tight as her desire reached a precipice with each stroke of his cock and each tap of his thumb. “There you go, Elain. That’s it.”

“So good. You feel so good.” She murmured, so pleased with the intensity this new position brought. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby.” Azriel urged, his thumb still working her beautifully. “Be a good girl for me and come on my cock, Lain. Can you do that?”

Elain made a small noise of agreement, pushing back onto him to match his thrust, amplifying the feeling of him so deep inside her that she felt him in her belly, stretching her in the best way. It was like he was made to fill her. Made to fuck her. 

In the end it was his words that did it - the gentle praise coupled with the rough motion of his hips and his hands. It was Azriel whispering about how well she was taking him that tipped her over the edge. She collapsed back into him with the force of her orgasm, her teeth buried into his neck in a halfhearted attempt to muffle the way she cried out his name.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out. Take what you need.” His fingers continued to stroke over her, wringing out every last drop of pleasure until she was utterly boneless - absolute putty in his arms as he maneuvered them so that she was on her back again with him between her legs. “Just a little more, okay? I’m right there with you.”

When he dipped down to press his mouth to hers, Elain accepted it greedily as she spread her legs apart and welcomed him in. She was so sensitive, aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her as he entered her again. She savoured the way their tongues slid together, moaning quietly as he lifted her hips and fucked into her quickly until his own hips started to falter. 

“Where do you want it, Lain?” Azriel asked, voice gravelly as he attempted to hold himself together.

“Anywhere. Wherever you want.” Elain told him, meaning every word. He could do whatever he wanted and she’d let him. He could come on her stomach, her breasts. Even her face if that would please him. But there was really only one place that felt right at this moment. One place that caused her to tense around him as if to wordlessly suggest the idea. “Inside me. Come inside me.”

She heard him groan at the suggestion, a string of low curses flying out of his mouth at her words. “Want it inside you? Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” Elain wrapped her legs around him, pulling him further into her. Showing him exactly how much she wanted it. “I’m yours, Azriel.”

He said her name as he came, hips stilling as his forehead pressed to her chest. She could feel it, the warm sensation, the jerk of his cock as he gave her everything he had until there was no room left for it all. Elain felt it on her thighs, felt it seep out of where they were still joined. 

“God,” Azriel moaned in disbelief, head still buried against her chest as he attempted to regulate his breathing. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Elain agreed, threading her fingers through his hair as she gently untangled her legs from his waist. He grabbed his t-shirt from where it was laying next to them, dabbing it against her thighs as he pulled out of her - ensuring nothing spilled from her onto the rug beneath them.

There were no words for what just happened. No possible way to summarise everything she felt in that moment. She’d never felt like that before. It was almost too good to be true how unbelievable it was. How incredible he’d made her feel. She couldn’t believe how much time they’d wasted not doing that.

They laid there for ages, neither of them able to find the energy to make it to bed. Instead, Azriel reached up and pulled a couple pillows to the floor along with a blanket, draping it over their naked bodies before pulling her into him. Her breasts against his chest. Her legs entwined with his.

They exchanged kisses in between whispered conversation- slow and heated - hands tracing and grasping until it was inevitable that somehow neither of them were ready to stop. It wasn’t long until Elain was on top of him, breathy moans slipping from both their lips as lowered himself onto his cock, riding him slowly. Grinding against him, taking her time drawing out their pleasure until they couldn’t possibly take it anymore and they both finished with stifled moans. 

“Az?” Elain broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them afterwards, her finger stroking along his jaw as his own fingertips traced soothing patterns down her arm. 

Azriel hummed, sleepy eyes fluttering open. 

It made her heart skip a beat - how beautiful he was like this - sex tousled hair and tired hazel eyes. Lips swollen, the dim moonlight illuminating his sweat slicked, tan skin. He was like a piece of art and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to be the one to see him like this. To be the one that had messed up his hair and bitten his lips. 

“My necklace,” she forced herself to focus, swallowing nervously before she continued. “I never asked when you gave it to me but I’ve always wondered… the letter on the back…”

Elain trailed off, watching carefully as Azriel tilted his head back further into the pillow sandwiched between his head and the floor. She bit back a smile as a warm flush of colour crept up his neck and seeped into his cheeks. He’d caught on quick to where she was headed with this inquiry and his reaction was enough to hint at what his answer would be. 

“The ‘A’ on the back isn’t for my last name is it?”

“No,” Azriel answered quietly, his hand drifting from her arm. “No, it’s not.”

Her breath hitched in her throat as his fingers smoothed over her sternum, sliding in between her breasts until he reached the pendant. He flipped it over, thumb pressing into the small letter hidden there like a secret.

“Do you engrave your initial onto all the jewellery you make?” She asked.

“You know I don’t,” he answered. The initial signs of embarrassment were gone from his face and in its place was an unabashed, earnest honesty. “That was just for you.”

“Why?”

“You really don’t know, Lain?” He shook his head, tugging on the pendant gently. “I knew I couldn’t have you the way I wanted. Didn’t think I’d ever get the chance… so I thought I’d give you just a little piece of me. I suppose I liked the idea of my initial being right here. Against your skin. Close to your heart.”

As if to punctuate his words, he did just that - pressing the oval into her skin just as she’d done time and time again over the years in an attempt to steady herself in moments where she needed comfort. 

She knew. Of course, she knew that the letter on the back hadn’t really been for her last name. She’d seen the way his eyes fixated on it each and every time he saw her since he’d first put the necklace on her. Noticed the way he’d relax when he saw that she was still wearing it year after year.

It was a relief to know that all this time, what she’d secretly hoped to be true was actually true. 

“You’ve got a possessive streak, huh?” She didn’t know what else to say so she settled for the safe option of making a joke. Everything else that fought to leave her mouth would be too honest. Far too much, far too soon. “All that talk earlier about being yours…”

“I meant it,” he slipped his hand further up her neck, up to her jaw. His hold on her was loose but still, her blood heated with the suggestion behind the action. “We don’t need to put a label on anything. We can keep this quiet, keep it between us. But if we’re doing this then there’ll be no one else. Not for me. Not for you.”

“So we’re doing this, then?” she asked, finally breaching the question that had been hovering between them like a grenade over the past few months. “We’re… exclusive?”

“Yes, Elain.” Azriel laughed, lips hovering over hers as his thumb smoothed over the expanse of her throat. “We’re exclusive.”

She closed the distance between them, her lips pressed to his as Azriel rolled her onto her back and used his knee to guide her legs apart for the third time that night.

[uriekukistan]

how do you … hhow do yiu start writjng. like how do you. opening paragraph…. how do you begin..

sksjdj sorry this took so long, i genuinely rewrote my answer 3-4 times ���� took me a few hours to figure out how i wanted to answer this tbh bc usually i don't even know what im doing either

also im by no means a perfect writer, i’m still working to improve with every fic, so pls take this w a grain of salt, everyone writes their own way as well…hopefully this isnt too long or annoying or preachy or anything.

i always have an outline of my fic ready before i start writing, regardless of if it's super vague or highly detailed, i also try to think about what the character(s) want from the situation(s) and potential ways that could create conflict (not in an angsty way per se but in a plot moving way). knowing this is super helpful for deciding where to start because different types of openings are good for different stories.

ideas i use a lot!

-> character intro! this is my most commonly used way to start a new story. i like to make sure my MC is in the first sentence so the reader knows who the story is going to focus on. this does have a potential to go wrong, bc essentially, there's the good way and then there's my immortal 💀

when i say to use a character intro, i mean like their mindset/beliefs as they pertain to the plot, main conflict they're facing, or how they're feeling at that moment, rather than "basic info"

ex: megumi fushiguro is 15, has black hair and green eyes, and he's a jujutsu sorcerer and is in his first year at jujutsu tech. in his free time, he reads. he loves animals. he was abandoned by his parents at a young age, so he's wary of others <- boring, bland, sparks 0 interest

VS: Megumi was never a fan of love. Not in books, not in TV shows, not in movies, and certainly not in real life. He hadn’t so much as considered having romantic feelings for someone in fifteen years of living, and he wasn’t about to start now. Definitely not now. Not after what had happened. <- interesting, gives insight into how megumi thinks (and how strongly), sparks interest bc what happened??

hsiao doesn't want to date a coworker because she has a dangerous job, but has a crush on saiko. urie can't express his feelings because he's spent ages bottling them up, and now he needs to grieve someone he didn't realize he cared for until it's too late. establishing these things is really important, and should be done eventually either way.

i think this method works best for stories focusing on a conflict that's more internal because it sets up the characters psyche, but can still be used for external conflict effectively!

-> dialogue: another one that can be tricky, and gets a bad wrap sometimes, but it can very much be used well. it's good to use if the story is focusing on interpersonal conflict, especially if it involves a lot of arguing. usually, i throw the reader into a high tension, fast moving scene with dialogue, sometimes one with a confrontational start, sometimes in the middle of an already brewing interaction.

-> strong feelings: this works best with negative feelings, so i use it mostly for reeeeaaaallly angsty fics. physical pain, extreme sadness or guilt, grief, rage, or high stress work really well for this, because they're feelings that tend to consume everything else. you gotta be ready to dedicate a few paragraphs to really good descriptions that make readers feel. it's a bit intimidating to write and has the potential to overwhelm readers as well, so i tend to reserve it for fics that i intend to be really heavy and upsetting, no happy ending/comfort type fics

-> straight into action: gonna be honest, i try to avoid this one as much as possible unless it's in a multi-chapter fic where the characters/conflict have been firmly established. used outside of this, i think it works best with actions that are literal beginnings, or it feels like part of the story is missing. things like waking up, opening a door (staring at a blank page trying to write..........)

lil tips ig

★ shorter sentences: my usual writing style has a lot of lengthy sentences, but when it's the first thing a reader sees, it slows down the pace immediately. of course, there's a place for long sentences as well, but the average reader is going to go for something that grabs their attention quickly.

★ u don't have to start from the beginning!! honestly i get this from writing academic essays, but sometimes it's easier to write the beginning after you wrote the rest because even if u think u know where ur going, it can change as u write it. tbh once i wrote fic almost entirely backwards 💀

slfkjgnkjnsfglk i hope this was at least somewhat helpful, honestly i wasn't sure what to say, but i'm really excited to see ur fic!!! ik u have a lot of things planned, so i'm sure once you get the first words out there, the rest will start flowing !!!

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

[kimnjss]

dude could you pls someday make a drabble about yn bringing hyuna to the studio while yoongi works ‘ and she’s so whiny for his attention the whole time 🥺

your daughter has not stopped crying since you dropped hyunki off at school. correction, she hasn't stopped giving you the sad eyes since she was waking up to you lifting her from her crib instead of her father.

yoongi worked late most days, which meant mornings were spent with hyuna. he'd feed her in the morning, change her diaper, bathe her and get her dress. they'd spend hours hanging out and giggling at each other until he was handing her off to get ready for work. by then, she was sleepy from all the fun daddy-daughter time, so a nap was only seconds away.

so the fact that her normal daddy routine was being taken away from her was not something she was going to take lightly. and she had ever intention to let you know that. to refusing a peaceful diaper change, squirming endlessly and using her chubby hand to swap yours away. and there was the persistent way she spat her milk out each time the bottle touched her lips.

her screams only got louder as she grew more annoyed with you and the fact that you weren't yoongi. after the fourth failed attempt, you're giving up. “fine. you want your dad so bad? let's go get him.” you're carefully buckling her into her carrier before shoving your shoes on to your feet.

it's only a fifteen minute drive from your house to the studio, which felt like a full hour with the way hyuna was screaming in your ear. she calms only slightly when the car is pulling into your designated parking spot, subconsciously registering where you are. her wails turn to quiet whimpers as you lift her from her seat, leading her inside and into the elevator.

yoongi is sat at his desk when you arrive, clearly in a meeting with his team so you do the respectful thing and wait outside. even though you had every intention of interrupting his work day, you drew the line at barging in when he was clearly busy. your daughter doesn't have the same decency.

she's whining the moment her eyes are focusing on her dad, whines erupting into tears when you're not moving fast enough. the familiar sound catches yoongi's attention instantly, you literally see the way he switches into father mode, eyes searching to locate the sound. brow furrowing when spots the two of you in the doorway.

the words he directs to the men in front of him aren't loud enough for you to hear, but from the way they quickly pack up to leave, you can guess what he's told them. he's standing behind them, heading straight to the two of you with his arms outstretched.

and just like that, the waterworks stop the moment she's resting in his arms. “what's wrong? what happened?” he's lowering himself back into his desk chair as you rummage her diaper bag for the milk she had ignored earlier.

“everything's fine. she's just pissed she didn't get to see you today,” you're handing the bottle off to him at the end of your words. yoongi's lips shift into a pout directed to his daughter. “aw, baby. you missed your daddy, huh?”

all it takes is one push of the bottle's nipple against her lips for her to start drinking. not wasting a single drop. “how's your day been, baby? you look like shit,” you're slumped back on the couch. hair a mess and shirt stained, you're pretty sure there's a hole in sweats you threw on, but fuck him.

“fuck you,” his laughter follows your words.

hyuna's eyes are already blinking heavy, the endless crying definitely chipped away at her energy. “i've got a little while before i have to go record. you wanna go home and shower? then we can go get something to eat?” you swear this man was sent from heaven just for you.

you're perking up almost instantly, the thought of an uninterrupted shower sounding more appealing than anything else. “i'd love that,” you speak as you stand, he's taking the diaper bag from you before leaning up to plant a kiss to your forehead. “take your time and wash your hair too,”

he laughs when you're shooting a glare down at him. you deliver a quick goodbye down to your sleeping daughter before you're turning to leave them. heading straight home to take a much deserved shower.

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.  

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”    

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

[flying-nightwing]

Decorum (1/3)

Oh hey! With the recent marvel abominations (read: endg*me) I have turned to DC for some comfort and I was not disappointed. So here’s my first attempt at writing something of the DC universe. So uh, enjoy the fruit of my procrastination. Pls like, reblog, comment, lemme know what you think.

Part 2

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader, eventually Jason Todd x Reader

Number of words: 2569

Warnings: lots of angst, arranged marriage, rich people lol, few swear words, mentions of cheating.

Summary: Being married to Dick Grayson is not as glamorous as everyone else in Gotham would think, especially since you both hate each other. But unbeknownst to him, his absence does have consequences.

The limo was silent. It always was, aside from the casual buzzing of Dick’s cell phone every three minutes or so. It was always the same story, you’d get ready in silence, in your seperate rooms, then meet in the vehicule already. The ride would be quiet, devoid of eye contact, or god forbid, remarks on the other’s effort on their evening attire. Yours was always the best, thought forward and flawless. Dick’s was pretty much the same every time, with the exception of a minor variant not to be caught dead in the same outfit twice. 

Imagine the blow to the Wayne’s reputation if he did. 

Then, you would pull out the smiles for the cameras the split second before the limo door opened. He would get out first and offer you his arm, beaming like he actually liked you. You would walk the red carpet at his arms, as if he allowed them outside of the public eye. You would mingle with the high society of Gotham and rave about how great was the fundraising, and how great was Bruce Wayne. How great was the company going with your father’s investments, and just how great life was with your husband. The women would tell you all about how your couple was such a match in heaven, but the jealousy behind their eyes would be a little too obvious. After all, you did secure Dick Grayson as your husband. The Boy Wonder, the Golden Boy, Gotham’s favourite son. 

Yeah, isn’t life great.

And at the end of the night, after empty-smiling so much it hurt, you would climb back into the limo, take your seat as far as each other as possible, and return to your normal routine of avoiding each other. You knew he blamed you for forcing this union on you, even though you were the only one to voice your disagreement on it. Wayne Industries had suffered a blow after a prolonged absence from Bruce--one of them, anyway--and your father had so generously offered to help with the bailout. It came to a condition, however, one that would cost both you and Dick your freedom. But isn’t it just was the high society does, what they’ve always done? Personal feelings don’t matter, only money and reputation do. And Bruce, well, Bruce really needed that bailout for some reason. You were surprised, usually he had a tendency not to ask for help and do it himself.

There must have been some interest he had to protect at all cost.

You found out what put him against a wall a year later, at the same time you discovered that not all of Dick’s night escapades were dedicated to seeing Barbara. You had understood soon enough after your marriage that Dick would always be Dick, and set an accord with him that as long as his affair didn’t reach the public, you would turn a blind eye to it. But the bruises and haunting look in his eyes--whenever you could catch them--told an alternative narrative. You weren’t dumb, you put two and two together, with him and Bruce’s similar disappearing patterns. All this time spent in silence left a lot of space to observe, and observe you did. 

And your theory was that he knew the second you discovered. The shift in both of your attitudes was unspoken, as everything else was, but it was there, visibly and prominent. At first he would send you questioning glances when he thought you weren’t paying attention, as he was trying to figure out why you hadn’t lashed out, or as to when exactly you would sell him out to the police. Then, he stopped sneaking back in at the early hours of the morning, him and Bruce even sometimes discussed vigilante matters with you at ear range. Hushered, but not hidden. He even let you tend to his wounds that one time, no question asked from either of you. It was the closest you got to him before he shut you out again.

“What did I do this time?” 

His sighing voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and your eyes trailed from the window to him. You were back in the limo after the gala, and oh, he had spoken. Unusual thing for him to do, but his accusatory tone was anything but. You met his eyes half a second, then went back to looking outside. You couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but it was better than looking at him.

“You weren’t subtle” You hummed, and you felt the shift in his attitude. He knew as well as you did what you were talking about. “I can take a lot of shit you do, but I won’t let you publicly humiliate me”

“Come on” He scoffed dismissively. “It’s not like I went over there and made out with her”

“Those people are vultures” Your tone turned harsh as you looked back at him. “You’re lucky nobody noticed you straight up ogling at Barbara this time, or the scandal would already be out”

“Ah, yes. Your precious reputation” He rolled his eyes. “God forbid anyone taint it”

“Not just mine, but yours and Bruce as well” You raised your chin in defiance. You didn’t care if you were being an asshole to him, you weren’t the one acting like one in the relationship, if there was any. “Remember that if I leave, I leave with the money”

“Aren’t you tired of making that threat every times?” He asked sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “You could at least come up with a new one”

“I could, it’s not for the lack of source material” You mused, and he tensed. “But I won’t. And you know why?”

He didn’t answer as the car came to a halt.

“Because I think of myself as a decent person, and despite how you’re behaving toward me, I will never stoop so low as to attack your dignity” You spoke firmly, quickly. You barely noticed Dick recoiling in his seat; never you had been so direct, so dry with him. You pushed the door open, and paused. “You better start managing yourself, because I’m done trying”

With that, you slammed the door and left him stunned in the car.

---------

“Mr. Grayson could not join us tonight?”

You turned around and smiled at Mr. Fowley, one of the generous donator to the Wayne foundation. They always asked about him, and you got pretty good at coming up with different excuses every time to justify his absence.

“Unfortunately, he and Mr. Wayne had to attend to a very important board meeting regarding the passing down of Wayne Industries assets when the time comes” You answered easily. It had become a second nature to you to cover for him ever since you said I do. “He was very sorry not to be able to attend”

He wasn’t. 

“That’s unfortunate indeed” He sighed. “I wished to give him my gratitude for solving the mystery of my lost paintings”

Dick had solved the disappearance of one of the most impressive private collections of original Monets in North America. And obviously, it only made him more popular. But you had to give it to him, he was a fantastic detective with a flair for finding what others couldn’t. 

“Then I will make sure to pass your praises along to him when I see him later” You nodded. “Thank you for being here tonight, Mr.Fowley. I hope you enjoy the night”

He had been the fourth guest to ask you about Dick. At the beginning of your marriage, it made you incredibly angry, but now you just accepted it, what else could you do? He would never be a presence you could count on, and you learned to deal with it. So when the gala ended, you were once again left to close the place alone. The cleaning crew would take care of the bigger mess tomorrow, but you were still responsible of the keys. 

It seemed like forever until you reached the garage. Your car was the last one, obviously, since you decided to drive yourself. It had been your wedding gift from Bruce, a one in the world car that made head turns wherever you went. And after that almost fiasco, you needed to do some damage control and remind the high people of Gotham of the status quo. You truly ever rode the limo if Dick was there, anyway. You climbed in and started the engine, leaving the place tired and slightly annoyed.

However, halfway home, your engine decided to turn off, making you pull over on the side of the road. The car slowly rolled to a stop, seemingly having shut down completely. Not even your headlights responded, and it made you worried. No smoke was coming out of the hood, no strange odour reached your nose either. With a huff and your annoyance growing, you waited fifteen minutes and tried again to start the car.

Nothing.

You looked outside, seeing nothing around in the darkness. You tried to call for a taxi, but none of them were any close to your area. Or it would have taken at least two hours, as the lady on the other end of the phone so kindly told you so. You were left with one option, and it didn’t make you happy. But you knew nothing about car mechanic, so you did not have a choice. You reached for your phone and stared at it, deliberating if you really needed to call him. But reason got the best of you, so you swiped your phone open, went to your contact list and pressed Dick’s name. It hadn’t rung twice that it sent you straight to the voicemail. He had declined your call. You tried to call again, then again. The fourth time, it rang, and rang, until you reached the voicemail again. He hadn’t declined it this time, he only ignored it. You rubbed the bridge of your nose and sighed at the cold, impersonal robotic voice on the other end.

You have reached the voicemail of: Dick Grayson. Please leave a message after the dial tone. 

“Dick, uh, it’s me. My car has broken down on the road 49, about twenty minutes drive from the mansion. I tried a taxi but I’m literally in the middle of nowhere. Could you pick me up? … Call me when you get this”

And you hung up. You waited fifteen minutes, checking your phone more often than you cared to admit. It was getting cold without heating, and he still didn’t call you back. It was too early for patrol, so he wasn’t gone yet. He was probably with Barbara, as usual. He had probably shut down his phone so it wouldn’t disturb them, he was probably pissed at you too.

Asshole.

You got annoyed, so you changed strategy and called someone else. If Dick wasn’t going to answer the god damn phone, a different Wayne would. You scrolled down your contacts and found Jason’s name. You didn’t hesitate as you launched the call, and he picked up at the third ring. 

“Best looking Wayne son on the phone, how can I help you?”

“Jason” You chuckled at his humour. At least someone was having a better night than you. “I was wondering if you could come pick me up. My car broke down in the middle of nowhere and Dick won’t answer his phone”

“Ah, living up to his name once again I see” He hummed. He was also aware of Dick’s second type of night time activity. “I am so sorry, I’m actually out of town taking care of… Something. Isn’t Daddy Dearest around? Or Alfred?”

“Justice League matters” You sighed. “Only Dick can reach him during those meetings. And Alfred’s with Bruce”

“I can try and call someone” He suggested. “I have a few people that owe me favors”

“Thank you Jay, but uh, I think I’ll walk” You nodded to yourself. You knew the road well enough to make your way home. “It’s not that far”

“I do not agree with that but I can’t stop you either--hold on” His voice hitched, followed by a grunt that wasn’t his. It sounded like he was punching a guy, but you didn’t ask. It was Jason doing Jason stuff. You waited patiently, occasionally hearing glass and wood break. Nothing out of the ordinary, if you were honest. It didn’t freak you out anymore. “Listen, I-- oh fucker! I gotta go, but call me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do” You couldn’t help the small smile on your lips. Jason had always been the best, in his own weird way to cheer you up. “Thanks Jason”

“You’re welcome” He huffed. “Be careful”

He ended the call after that, probably off to finish his important business. You shook your head and put on your coat and scarf, grabbing your purse and your keys. You got out, locked the doors and began walking on the side of the deserted road. You picked your phone again and dialed Dick’s number once again, waiting for the inevitable voicemail.

“Dick. It’s me again. Don’t bother coming, I’m walking home. Hope you have fun tonight”

You hung up and shoved the phone in your pocket, along with your hands to warm them up. You walked at a brisk pace, remaining aware of your surroundings at all time. You didn’t live as a Wayne without knowing the basics of self defence, and that became much more clearer as to why once you found out about the vigilante thing. Both Bruce and Jason had made sure you weren’t totally defenceless, despite the fact that you had no affinity for combat like them. You didn’t fit, only your money did. 

Perhaps it was why Dick had always disliked you.

But that basic training was enough to make you notice something wasn’t right. Only your footstep on the gravel echoed into the night, but you had that nagging feeling that you weren’t alone. You looked behind your shoulder, but nothing was there still. You kept going, but your hand reached for your phone in your pocket. With your senses focused on your surroundings, your fingers found Dick’s contact, and you waited for the voicemail again.

“Dick, I think I’m being followed. Please call me if you get this”

Then you hung up again. The feeling only grew as your pace quickened, your eyesight now only focused forward. You didn’t have the guts to look behind you. You tried to call a few other time, hanging up before it got to the voicemail. You were terrified, you had to grab Dick’s attention even if he would be pissed at you for blowing up his phone. 

“Come on, come on” You muttered to yourself as he still didn’t pick up. Then, the sound of rocks crushing behind you made your heartbeat stop for a second. Someone was definitely following you. You pressed the call button one more time as you started running. Footsteps took after you, and you knew you were done for.

You have reached the voicemail of: Dick Grayson. Please leave a message after the dial tone. 

“Someone’s behind me” You said in a hurry as they got closer and closer. “They’re gaining on me and--”

The sound of your phone hitting the ground ended your voicemail.

[silverlightqueen]

Ruin My Life - Part 2

RML masterlist

(fratboy!Jimin ft. fratboy!Jungkook) - smut, fluff, angst to come

Summary - You and Jimin have a very domestic morning after, so you make up for it with a very not domestic night...

Word Count - 8k+

Warnings - smuttier than part 1 (if you can believe it), threesome, light choking, orgasm denial, oral, dirty talk, intercourse, double penetration, overstimulation, fingering, just a lil bit of everything lol

a/n: so here’s part 2! this hasn’t been edited so excuse any mistakes. I hope y’all enjoy it and pls message me and give me feedback! if you like this, check out my other work, all linked in my masterlist💕

Edit: Part 3 is out now, link in my masterlist 💕

silverlightqueen masterlist

I blink drowsily, slowly tumbling out of my slumber, as I arch my back, stretching in the warm bed. I sit up, rubbing at my eyes to see the bright morning light streaming in through the gaps in the curtains. The other side of the bed is empty, and I remember last night, when it was full. Has he really left? I think before spotting his jeans bunched up on the floor. And then I hear a quiet humming and realise he’s definitely still here. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up, stretching again, before heading out of the room, my bare feet soundless on the soft carpet of my bedroom. As I near the kitchen, his humming gets louder along with the occasional clink of kitchenware. When I reach the kitchen, I peer in to see Jimin stood in there, in just his boxers, mixing something up in one of my baking bowls. When I step into the room, he looks up, noticing me, and a big smile breaks across his face, hiding his eyes behind their lids, making my heart contract. 

‘Morning, princess,’ he says, his voice much deeper and huskier than usual, and taps his cheek. ‘Morning, babe,’ I reply as I get up onto my tip toes and press a kiss to his soft skin. ‘How long have you been awake?’ I ask, standing behind him and putting my arms around him, resting my cheek against his strong back. ‘Not long. Thought I’d make a bit of breakfast,’ he says, and I can feel the vibrations of his words through his body. ‘What time is it?’ I ask. ‘It’s nearly half past eleven. You didn’t have a morning lecture, did you?’ he asks. ‘Nuh-uh,’ I reply as he begins walking towards the fridge, and I stay holding onto him, shuffling along behind him. ‘You’re so clingy in the morning. I thought maybe you’d changed but you’re still exactly the same,’ he chuckles, and I nuzzle further into him. ‘Princess, can we cuddle after I’ve made breakfast? You’re making it a little hard to cook,’ he says lightly, and I whine, holding onto him. He detaches me from his torso and I pout.

‘Go find something to watch on the TV and I’ll be done in like fifteen minutes,’ he says, and I frown jokingly, stomping off to the living room. My phone, sat on the coffee table, lights up as I sit down on the sofa and I pick it up, turning on the TV with the remote at the same time. I flick through the channels, finally settling on Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, whilst checking my phone. I’ve had a load of texts from Mija asking what happened. I type a quick message filling her in and ask when she wants to come back, so I can send Jimin home. She lets me know that she’s currently in a lecture and then going out for a late lunch with some of her classmates, so she won’t be back for a few hours yet. Jimin comes in then, two plates in his hands and a big smile on his face. ‘What did you make?’ I ask, getting comfy. ‘Pancakes,’ he replies, handing me my plate with a flourish. He’s garnished them with strawberries and golden syrup and a little bit of whipped cream, just how I like them. I smile at him, picking up the fork and breaking off a bite, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. ‘So?’ he asks the second I put it in my mouth. ‘Really good,’ I say truthfully once I’ve swallowed it down, and a proud smile breaks across his face. ‘Jin hyung taught me how to make them,’ he tells me, tucking into his own plate.

We sit in a comfortable silence, eating our breakfast and watching the film, and once we’re both done, I take our plates into the kitchen and quickly wash up, joining him back in the living room after ten minutes. He’s under a load of blankets that he must have found in the cupboard, and he looks absolutely adorable bundled up like this. He looks up at me when I walk in and a smirk breaks across his face, turning him from adorable to something else. ‘You look so good in my clothes, princess,’ he praises, making some space for me to sit. I throw myself down beside him and he instantly pulls me into his side, his arm around me. It’s only after a few minutes of being so comfortable, physically and mentally, that it hits me how weird this is. Cuddling with him like this and watching a Disney film after he made us breakfast, it feels so… domestic. And it feels like the most normal thing in the world, like I could wake up to this every morning without complaint. My heart starts beating so fast at the thought and I nearly hurtle out of his arms and kick him out of the apartment. But before I can, Jimin begins to speak.

‘You coming to the party at the frat tonight?’ he asks. ‘I didn’t know you were having one,’ I reply, and he rests his head on top of mine. ‘Well, now you do,’ he points out, his jaw moving against the top of my head. ‘I’m not invited,’ I say pointedly, waiting for him to explicitly say he wants me to come. ‘Well, that’s why I’m inviting you now. I want you there,’ he says, and I feel my heart contract. ‘I’ve got exams next week,’ I say, and he chuckles. ‘What’s that got to do with our party?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes, though he can’t see me do so. ‘I need to study,’ I say. ‘Okay, A) no, you don’t, and B) if you want to study, do it on the weekend, or during the week next week,’ he says, and I sigh. ‘Come on, princess. You can be my date,’ he says, and I nearly choke, moving to look at him. ‘Your date? Did the infamous Park Jimin really just ask me to be his date? When there’s gonna be so many ‘hot chicks’ whose pants you can try to get into?’ I say sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘Infamous? And also, for the record, I’ve never said ‘hot chicks’ in my entire life,’ he points out. ‘The point still stands.’ ‘Yeah, and my point about wanting you as my date still stands. We haven’t spent time together for so long, it’ll be nice to hang out together in a party environment,’ he says. ‘As opposed to this environment?’ I ask. ‘This is nice and all, but it feels too… relationshipy for me. A party’s a different story,’ he says, and my heart sinks. I don’t know what I expected. Of course, he wasn’t gonna suddenly change his mind and ask me to be his girlfriend. But I… I had a bit of hope, I guess. ‘Okay,’ I say, giving in to what I want rather than what’s best for me, ‘I’ll come.’ ‘Good,’ he replies, a huge smile appearing on his face.

We settle back down together, watching the film, but I can’t even enjoy myself in the moment, feeling myself falling for him again. And it hurts even more that I don’t have a chance with him at all. If I continue with this, I know I’ll fall in love with him, just like I did last time. And I don’t want to wait until I’m too far gone to come back, just like I did last time, but I know myself, and I know I can’t resist him. One of his eye smiles and a gentle hand at my waist, and I’m putty in his hands. But when I’ve missed him so much over these past two years, so much that I couldn’t go a day without thinking about him, it’s hard to resist. So, it’s a choice between distancing myself like the last two years or continuing to fall in love with him and keep it to myself so I can carry on seeing him. And, unfortunately, I already know which it is I’m going to choose. I already know he’s going to ruin my life.

‘Ready to go, y/n?’ Mija shouts from the living room. ‘Two minutes!’ I shout back, searching frantically for my black heels as I swipe my lipstick across my lips. I finally find them and pull them on, my shaky hands fumbling with the straps. I frantically shove things into my black clutch, lipstick, pads, oil-blotting sheets, phone, phone charger and the like. I run out of my room into the living room and Mija screams at my appearance. ‘You look so fucking good, bitch!’ she shrieks, and I shush her embarrassedly. I’m dressed in a lowcut, dark red velvet dress that ends mid-thigh, and Jimin’s leather jacket that he left here earlier. My hair is in big, bouncy curls, opposite to my usual dead straight locks. ‘You look so fucking good too, bitch,’ I say, a lot quieter than she did. She’s dressed in a black mesh bodysuit with a cute lace bralette beneath, and a pair of white jeans with a pair of black heels of mine ‘I don’t recognise that jacket,’ Mija says, and I nearly blush. ‘It’s Jimin’s,’ I say, and she shrieks again. ‘Yes, bitch! I’ve already got a plan for you to win him over!’ she says, and I roll my eyes. I told her about my head being in a whirl and my mixed feelings earlier, and she’s made up her mind that she’s gonna get us together, one way or another. ‘You show up, wearing his jacket, and flirt with another boy!’ she says. ‘Are you crazy?’ I ask, and she shakes her head. ‘Mija, Jimin used to get angry when I flirted with other boys in front of him. And he’s asked me to be his date to this party. He’ll be furious if he sees,’ I say, and she shrugs. ‘Even better. It’ll help him realise that he can’t let you pass him by because he won’t find anyone like you,’ she says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Stop with the soppy shit, and let’s go,’ I say, and she laughs.

We head out of the apartment and down to the front of our accommodation building to where an Uber is waiting. A mere ten minute drive and we’re there, and all I can think about is Jimin doing this drive but the opposite way last night. He must have literally dropped what he was doing and then sped over straight away, and the thought makes me feel warm inside. When we get out, we see that the street is packed full of cars and the party is well in full swing, music pounding out into the street. We head up the lawn, passing groups of drunk gigglers, high stoners and making-out couples. Mija shoulders her way past a couple kissing in the doorway and leads me through into the front room. We push our way back into the kitchen, Mija making a beeline to where she knows the boys will be. The second we walk in, all eyes turn to us, and I understand why this room is a lot emptier than the others. This room is exclusive, for close friends of the boys only, and I can see why people stick to that unspoken rule, having all eyes falling upon them instantly when they walk in. We don’t get the stony reception that others must do though.

‘y/n!’ Taehyung practically shouts the second his eyes land on me, cutting off the speech of the girl who was talking to him and pushing his way over to me. He pulls me into a hug and I can’t help but smile at his sweet drunken behaviour, able to smell the alcohol on him. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ he says, his hands on my arms. His hair is a new colour now, no longer the ashy grey of yesterday, now a vivid blond. It suits him. ‘Thank, Tae,’ I reply, unable to keep a smile off my face. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he asks. ‘None of what you’ve been drinking. I’ll have a vodka coke, not too strong, please,’ I ask, and he turns to a freshman in the frat. ‘Get her a strong vodka coke!’ he instructs, and the poor freshman instantly begins fixing my drink. I feel sorry for the poor kid, but I can’t help but laugh at him, trying to hide my giggles behind my hand. ‘I said not strong,’ I sigh, and he shrugs. ‘You look good. Red suits you. And I like the jacket,’ Tae compliments, the girl he was speaking to before barging past with a scowl. ‘Thanks, Tae, thought I’d dress up for once,’ I reply, feeling eyes on me, though I can’t be sure whose. I don’t even know if Jimin’s in here or not, having not had a chance to look around. ‘For me? Or in general?’ he asks in his deep voice, an eyebrow raised. ‘Maybe a bit of both,’ I lie, knowing it’s not him I dressed up for, and he grins a boxy smile down at me. ‘You’re cute, y/n. Rejecting me yesterday, flirting with me today,’ he points out, and I laugh. ‘I wasn’t exactly in the mood yesterday.’ ‘But you were in the mood for Kook, Joon hyung and Yoongi hyung,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘They managed to persuade me. You told me I was clever and pretty and stuff,’ I point out, and he chuckles deeply. ‘Fair enough. I was nervous though. You’re a little scary, you know,’ he says, before turning to the freshman boy. ‘Hurry up! She hasn’t got all day!’ he barks. ‘Tae! Don’t! It’s okay, babe, take all the time you need,’ I say as nicely as I can, and the boys smiles weakly, going back to putting ice in my drink. ‘So you can call him babe, but when I said it yesterday…?’ Tae says. ‘You know that I meant it in a different way than you did,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Here you are, noona,’ the freshman boy says nervously, pressing the drink into my hand. ‘Thank you,’ I reply, taking a sip through the straw of the drink, Tae’s eyes on my lips. ‘Tae! Keg stand!’ I hear someone shout from through the open back door, and Tae sighs. ‘I’d better go. I’ll speak to you later, y/n, save a dance for me,’ he says, heading outside.

Before I can even turn to look around the room, Namjoon is stood in front of me. ‘Hey, y/n,’ he says, pulling me into a hug. ‘Hey, Joon,’ I reply, giving him a hug. ‘I didn’t know you were coming,’ he says. ‘Oh, Jimin invited me,’ I say before thinking, not realising my mistake until Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow together. ‘When? I thought you two didn’t really talk anymore,’ he asks. ‘Yesterday, when he came over to speak to me,’ I say, and Namjoon nods. ‘To be fair, he was really vague about what your guys conversation was about so we all figured he was embarrassed about being rejected, but I guess he was trying to cover up how he was trying to reconnect with you,’ Namjoon says. He doesn’t know the full story about mine and Jimin’s history; he just thinks we used to talk, and then we didn’t anymore. ‘Hmm, I guess,’ I say, taking a sip of my vodka, thanking my lucky stars that Joon believed my story. ‘y/n, dance with me!’ Mija says, appearing at my side, an already half empty solo cup in hand. ‘Come on then,’ I give in, letting her drag me into the living room. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Joon!’ I call over my shoulder, Joon giving me an amused wave goodbye.

Mija and I are sucked into the throng of people dancing, and we get caught up in it too. A couple hours, and several vodka cokes later, and I feel a pair of hands land on my waist. I turn around instantly, ready to slap whoever it is, before I see Jungkook’s face. I roll my eyes, and he grins at me, looking unbelievably good in a white t-shirt and blue ripped jeans, a black bomber jacket over the top. His hair is slightly wavy today, not dead straight like normally. ‘Dance with me?’ he asks. ‘I’m dancing with Mija,’ I say, turning to look at where she was stood just a few seconds ago, but has now disappeared. ‘Sure you are,’ he says, turning me around to face him, his arms around my waist. ‘I like this dress,’ he says, looking down at me, and I already know that he’s got a perfect view down the top of it. ‘I bet you do,’ I say pointedly, moving his chin so his eyes meet mine rather than being lost in my bosom. He chuckles, eyes on mine, as we move fluidly together, his hands straying further and further down my back. When they go just a little too far, I grab them and move them up, and he chuckles again, his breath stirring my hair. ‘Come on,’ he says, holding my hand in his and leading me through into the nearly empty kitchen. ‘I thought you wanted to dance,’ I say as he leads us into the corner. ‘I changed my mind, I wanted to talk to you instead,’ he says. ‘What about?’ I ask with a raised eyebrow. ‘Can’t I just talk to you, noona?’ he asks innocently, leaning back against the counter, his head tilted to one side. ‘Fine, I guess,’ I say, beginning to pour myself a drink. ‘You look really nice, noona,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Thank you, Kookie. I guess you look nice too,’ I say, taking a sip of my seventh vodka coke, and he laughs. ‘You’re too coy. I feel like I recognise that jacket,’ he says, squinting at it, and I shrug, trying not to laugh. He moves closer to me, backing me up against the counter with one hand on my waist. ‘It looks nice on you. But it’d look nicer on my bedroom floor,’ he says under his breath. ‘Don’t use cheesy pick-up lines on me,’ I reply lowly, trying not to let on my reaction to it. ‘It worked though,’ he replies, his deep voice doing unspeakable things to me. ‘Did it?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘I’m pretty sure it did, noona, considering how hard your heart is beating,’ he says, his chest pressed against mine. ‘Yours is too,’ I reply, and he grins. ‘I won’t deny it like you are,’ he says. ‘I didn’t deny it,’ I retort. ‘So you’re admitting it?’ he asks, grin even wider. ‘I didn’t say that either, don’t get your hopes up,’ I reply. ‘You’re so difficult, noona,’ he says. ‘I’m difficult? You’re hard to be around,’ I joke. ‘That’s not the only thing that’s hard,’ he smirks, and I groan. ‘God, you were just waiting for an excuse to say that, weren’t you?’ I ask, and he nods honestly. ‘You’re just too good to resist, noona,’ he says, and then the door opens.

Jimin walks in, both of us looking over at him as he looks up at us, my heart stopping. ‘Hey, hyung,’ Jungkook says, and Jimin smiles at him. ‘Hey, Kook. Hi, y/n,’ he says, smiling at me widely, and I’m disheartened. He doesn’t care in the slightest that he’s just walked in to see Kook stood virtually on top of me, hands on my waist. I guess he really doesn’t care about me at all. ‘Hey, Jimin,’ I reply, neither Jungkook or I moving as Jimin begins to pour himself a drink, back to us. Jungkook looks back down at me, smiling, and begins to speak again. ‘How can I help myself when you’re dressed like that? Wearing that dress, and that jacket. You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?’ he asks, voice low but not low enough for Jimin not to notice. But again, no reaction. He doesn’t tense up at all, just continues pouring out a drink. ‘Maybe I do, Kook. Maybe I wore this on purpose, to get some kind of reaction,’ I say, wanting Jimin to hear my words. But nothing. ‘From me?’ Jungkook asks, grinning. ‘Who else?’ I ask, and he licks his lips. ‘Just what I wanted to hear, noona. I knew you had a soft spot for me,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Am I that transparent?’ I say sarcastically. ‘I wish this dress was transparent,’ he says shamelessly, hands travelling up and down my sides. ‘Jungkook!’ I exclaim. ‘It’s doesn’t matter, noona. Jimin doesn’t mind, do you, hyung?’ Jungkook asks, oblivious, and Jimin turns around with an amiable smile. ‘No, of course not, Kook. You and y/n carry on,’ he says, giving a Kook an encouraging smirk, and my mouth nearly falls open. Is he kidding me? He turns and leaves with one last smirk at Kook, and I want to scream at him.

‘God, y/n, so fucking sexy, this dress is killing me,’ Jungkook groans, taking a step back to look me up and down. His words do entice me, I won’t deny it, but I can’t focus on him anymore, my mind with Jimin and his nonchalance. He really didn’t care in the slightest. After a couple more minutes of going back and forth with Kook, his phone buzzes and it’s a text from Tae telling him there’s someone in his room. Jungkook groans, telling me he’ll be back in a minute, and runs out of the room, leaving me alone with my vodka coke. And then I get a text from Namjoon, asking me to come to his room because he’s got an emergency. I rush up, knowing where it is from before when we were friends, worried something serious has happened, and I practically burst into the room. It’s dark and I can’t see a single thing. ‘Joon?’ I call out, and then the door shuts behind me, the light flicking on. Jimin is stood by the door, staring at me, and I take a few steps back out of surprise, my back hitting the wall. He looks amazing again today, dressed in an oversized white jumper and a pair of black ripped jeans, his thighs on show again.

‘Jimin? But Namjoon texted me…?’ I say, confused. ‘I took his phone. And we switched rooms last year,’ Jimin says neutrally, and my eyebrows furrow. ‘Why?’ I ask. ‘I wanted his room and he let me switch,’ Jimin says with a small grin. ‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’ I reply. ‘Oh, you wanna know why I told you to come up here?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘I’ll tell you why,’ he says, his voice losing its light-heartedness as he takes a few steps, pressing his body against mine, one of his hands coming to my throat. ‘What the fuck do you think you were doing? Flirting with Taehyung when you first walked in, and then dancing with Kook. Then the two of you disappear and when I finally manage to shake off the bitches that were clinging to me, I walk in to see that. You’re here as my date, you’re wearing my jacket, and yet you haven’t spoken to me once, spending all your time with Jungkook. You think you can get away with that?’ he says, his voice low, his fingers tight on my throat, his words going straight to my heat. ‘I didn’t… I’m sorry, daddy,’ I say, and he scoffs. ‘It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? Jungkook’s already had his hands all over you. You don’t deserve to be touched, princess,’ he says, his fingers tightening even more, my brain becoming numb. ‘Please, daddy,’ I beg, his words making me moan, and he shakes his head. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and taps away for a few seconds, not losing his grip on my neck. Once he’s done, he tucks his phone back into his back pocket.

‘Such a dirty slut, y/n. You’re supposed to be mine, and mine only. Understand me, princess?’ he asks, and I nod, feeling lightheaded at my lack of oxygen. ‘I don’t think you do. I think you need to get it out of your system, because then you’ll just get worse. Right? I’m right, aren’t I?’ he asks, and I nod, knowing not to disagree with him. He puts a hand up my dress, pulling my pants aside and swiping a finger along my slit. ‘God, you’re so fucking wet, princess. Is this for me, or for Jungkook?’ he asks, and I can’t lie, it may be both, but I won’t admit it to him. ‘You, daddy, only you,’ I say, and he lets out a harsh laugh. ‘I think you’re a liar, princess. I think it’s for both of us,’ he says, seeing right through me, and I don’t say a thing. ‘Just as I thought,’ he says, just before the door opens and Jungkook walks in to see me pushed up against the wall, one hand up my dress and the other still around my neck. ‘Am I interrupting something?’ Jungkook asks, hesitating at the door, and Jimin pushes one finger in between my folds without warning. I moan out, my head falling back against the wall, and Jimin grins at Jungkook. ‘Look at this, Kook,’ he says, pulling out his finger and holding it up for Jungkook to see it, dripping with my slick. Jungkook’s eyes widen and he shuts the door behind him, clearly already knowing what’s coming. ‘Wow, noona,’ Jungkook says, and Jimin grins. ‘This is for you and me, Jungkook,’ Jimin says, and then brings his hand up to my mouth. I open my mouth and he pops his finger in, waiting until my tongue has licked it clean before he pulls it out, holding it up to Kook, covered in my saliva now. ‘So dirty, noona,’ Jungkook whispers, and Jimin laughs. ‘You don’t know the half of it. Does he, princess?’ Jimin asks. ‘No, daddy,’ I reply dutifully, my voice hoarse due to his hand around my neck. ‘Daddy, huh? I never would’ve guessed,’ Jungkook chuckles.

Jimin moves his hand and I take a deep breath, my head clearing, and Jimin laughs. ‘You expect me to feel sorry for you, princess, after how naughty you’ve been? I’m taking this back,’ Jimin says, pulling his jacket off me and throwing it across the room. ‘I knew I’d seen it before,’ Jungkook chuckles. ‘Dress off now,’ Jimin instructs, and I hesitate, self-conscious to undress in front of the two fully clothed men. ‘Oh, so you wanted to be a slut earlier, but now you’re shy? Hurry up, princess, you’re lucky I’ve decided not to punish you,’ Jimin threatens and I turn around, holding my hair out of the way for someone to undo the zip. ‘Go ahead, Kook,’ Jimin instructs, and I feel his hand appear at my back, pulling down the zip that goes all the way down to my lower back. Once he’s done, I pull it off, leaving me in black lace underwear, different to the ones from yesterday. ‘Look at you, wearing pretty lingerie. You were planning on getting fucked tonight, weren’t you? Who by, princess?’ Jimin asks. ‘You, daddy,’ I reply, and he shakes his head. ‘Dirty girl. So you planned on getting fucked by me, but flirted with Kook. So naughty,’ Jimin says, taking a seat on the bed. ‘On your knees, princess,’ Jimin says, leaning back on his elbows, and I quickly drop to my knees. ‘Go ahead, Kook,’ Jimin prompts. ‘You sure, hyung?’ Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods. Jungkook steps in front of me, beginning to unzip his jeans, and I open my mouth in advance. ‘Look at her, mouth open already. Such a dirty slut,’ Jimin says, and Jungkook looks down at me, all trace of the mischievous light-hearted boy gone, an intimidating man stood before me. ‘Is he fucking my face, daddy?’ I ask Jimin, and he laughs. ‘Ask Jungkook,’ he instructs, and I look up at him. ‘Do you want to fuck my face, Kook, or do you want me to suck you off?’ I ask, and he groans. ‘Fuck, noona, so dirty. Suck me off first,’ he says, pulling his jeans and boxers down just enough for his hardening length to spring free.

He's incredibly long, slightly longer than Jimin, not as thick, but still making my mouth water. I spit on my hands and work them up and down his length, getting it completely hard before I take his head into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his tip, feeling his hand knot into my hair for grip, his head falling back with a low groan as I lick up the precum. ‘That’s it, princess, make daddy proud,’ Jimin encourages me from the bed as I take him out of my mouth, placing my tongue at his base and licking the entire way up along his vein before moving back to the base, swirling my tongue around his balls one at a time, my hand gently rubbing up and down his length. ‘Fuck, that’s it, baby,’ Jungkook groans, watching me as I bring his head into my mouth, sinking as far down onto his length as I can, looking up at him through my lashes. He groans again as I begin bobbing up and down, building up a steady pace as I work more and more of him into my mouth. When he hits the back of my throat, he bucks his hips and I gag, eyes watering and saliva beginning to drip down my chin. ‘Now, now, princess, no gagging,’ Jimin reprimands sternly, and I know he’ll punish me if I do it again. Jungkook gets impatient then and knots his hand into my hair firmly, beginning to thrust into my mouth, and it takes all of my self-control not to gag. I grip onto the backs of his thighs, my nails scraping against the denim and his balls hit my chin, my nose bumping against his crotch repeatedly.

‘Fuck, you look so pretty choking on my cock, noona,’ Jungkook says, his words making me moan and I can feel the slick starting to pool in my pants. ‘Quiet, princess, you’re pleasing Kook, not the other way ‘round. Understand?’ Jimin instructs harshly, and I try to nod as best as I can, tears dripping down my cheeks as I hollow out my cheeks, trying not to gag. ‘Fuck, noona, your mouth feels amazing, baby,’ Jungkook groans again, and I try so hard not to react, dutifully staying still as he thrusts into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat over and over again. ‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum,’ he groans, his thrusts faster and harder, the tears streaming down my face now, my breathing laboured, and I feel him twitch in my mouth, knowing he’s close. ‘In your mouth, noona?’ he breathes out, and I nod as best as I can, feeling his hot cum hit the back of my throat as he moans out, head thrown back and body tensed. His thrusts slow down so I start bobbing my head, milking him for all he’s worth until he pulls out. ‘Open your mouth, princess,’ Jimin says, and I do so, Jungkook’s cum mingled with my saliva dripping down my chin when I do so, eyes streaming and hair a wild mess of curls. ‘Swallow it, princess. Every last drop,’ Jimin says, and I do so, opening my mouth once I’m done. ‘Wow, hyung, you’ve got her well trained,’ Jungkook says, looking down at me incredulously. ‘I’m not a dog,’ I say indignantly, not knowing when to keep my mouth shut, and I see Jungkook try to hold back a laugh. Jimin, chuckling, gets up off the bed and walks over, and I already regret opening my mouth, waiting for a punishment. ‘That’s one thing I’ve learned, Kook. Don’t seriously degrade or dehumanize her, or she’ll get her own back,’ Jimin says, talking as though I’m not there, and I know we’re both thinking of the time when he went a touch too far, calling me a name that had me furious, and I left his house mid hook-up, leaving him naked on the bed with a painfully hard boner. A small smile slips onto my face at the thought, and Jimin taps my chin with two fingers, making me look up at him. ‘Up, princess,’ he says, and I get up off my knees. He holds a small towel in his hand and cleans off my face, neck and chest with it, knowing I hate being sticky. ‘How’d you want her, Kook?’ Jimin asks Jungkook. ‘I… hyung, don’t you want to…?’ Jungkook trails off, and Jimin chuckles. ‘I have all the time in the world to do what I want with her, Kook. You have this evening,’ Jimin says, the subliminal message obvious. ‘I… I wanna taste her,’ Jungkook says, and I almost grin at the thought. ‘You heard him. Lie on the bed. Sideways, princess,’ Jimin says, and I go over to his bed, lying down horizontally.

After Jimin whispers something to Jungkook under his breath, the two men make their way over to the bed after me. Jungkook stands between my legs, his vascular hands slowly travelling up my legs to my pants, before pulling them down my legs, just as Jimin appears above me. ‘Can I rip this one off?’ he asks, hand on my bra. ‘No, daddy, it’s expensive,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes, hands going under my back to open the clasp before pulling it off, leaving me completely naked before the two men. ‘God, noona, so fucking sexy,’ Jungkook groans, hands spreading my legs apart, the cold air hitting my heat. ‘y/n, you’re so wet. Oh, my god, you’re soaked,’ he says, kneeling down. He licks up along my slit, and I let out a shaky breath. ‘No noise, princess,’ Jimin tells me, and I sigh inwardly, knowing it’ll be hard to stay quiet. Jungkook takes slow, languorous licks along my slit, his nose nuzzling against my clit, and I bite my lip, trying to stop any noise from coming out. His tongue dips in between my folds, and I nearly cry out at the feeling, my hands threading into his soft, silky curls. ‘No hands, princess,’ Jimin says, and I reluctantly move my hands from Jungkook’s hair, Jimin holding them above my head instead. Jungkook wraps his lips around my clit, sucking harshly, and my back arches. ‘Stay still, y/n! So naughty, princess,’ Jimin says sternly, and I try to force myself to still on the bed. Without warning, Jungkook plunges a finger in between my folds, and I bite down so hard on my lip, my body shaking slightly. ‘Fuck, you’re so responsive, y/n,’ Jungkook whispers. ‘She is, isn’t she? Only the tip of your finger goes into her tight little pussy, and she’s already clenching around it, trying to pull it further in,’ Jimin says, his words going straight to my core, and I have to bite down on my lip even harder. Jungkook slowly pumps his finger in and out, his lips still around my clit, before he adds another digit. ‘So fucking tight,’ Jungkook groans against my clit, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through me. He adds yet another finger, working them in as far as he can, knuckle deep inside me whilst his mouth still works at my clit. I begin commending myself on my excellent self-control, having managed to keep quiet for this long. And then Jimin changes the goal posts.

‘Open your mouth, princess,’ he says, and I do so, my head tilted back slightly, nervous due to only having done this with him once. He plunges straight into my mouth and I nearly choke, gagging around his cock. ‘Stop gagging, princess, take it like a good girl,’ he says, and I compose myself, hollowing out my cheeks to accommodate him. He slowly thrusts in and out of my mouth, gradually building up his pace as Jungkook continues his attack between my legs, his mouth and fingers working at an incredible speed. I can feel myself getting closer as Jimin’s pace quickens, still holding my hands above my head. And then, in perfect synchrony, the two increase their paces, Jungkook’s fingers and mouth moving impossibly fast as Jimin’s hips snap forward and backward violently. The tears stream from my eyes, spit bubbling around my mouth, the only noises in the room being my choked breaths, lewd wet sounds from Jungkook’s mouth and fingers, and Jimin’s heavy breathing. I can feel my head spinning, drifting away from the current events, and my eyes begin to slide shut. ‘Deep breath, princess,’ Jimin says, pulling out of my mouth, and I automatically do so, the air finally entering my lungs like I’ve just come out of deep waters. Jungkook doesn’t stop his attack on my core, his fingers brushing against my g-spot, and I let out a loud moan, just as Jimin slides back into my mouth, groaning aloud. I feel myself hurtling towards my orgasm, letting out choked moans around Jimin’s cock. ‘Such a good girl, princess, choking on my cock like that. You look so pretty, baby girl, so pretty and wrecked. Do you like having daddy’s cock in your mouth while Jungkook fucks you with his fingers and mouth, huh?’ he asks, and I nod with a muffled moan. I don’t even realise how close Jimin is until his cock twitches in my mouth and his releases hits the back of my throat. My name falls from his lips repeatedly as he thrusts sloppily into my mouth until he’s emptied all of his cum into my mouth. Jungkook stays at a steadily rapid pace, and I’m so close to my climax as I swallow down Jimin’s cum. ‘Daddy, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, letting out a moan at the feeling of Jungkook licking at my clit like he hasn’t eaten for days. My orgasm is just within reach, so close I can feel it, and then Jimin speaks; ‘Stop, Jungkook.’

Jungkook instantly stops his movements, and I look down at him in confusion as he licks his fingers clean, smirking at me. ‘You think you’ve been good enough to cum, princess?’ Jimin chuckles, and I nearly scream, knowing the torture that I’ve got coming. ‘Daddy, please,’ I whine, feeling my orgasm ebbing away, the knot in my stomach loosening completely. ‘You can earn it,’ Jimin says harshly. ‘How do you want her now, Kook?’ Jimin asks the younger boy as tears stream down my face. ‘I want her to ride me,’ Jungkook says with a grin at me, and I nearly stick out my tongue at him out of anger. Nearly. ‘Undress him, princess,’ Jimin instructs and I climb up off the bed shakily. His jacket is already lying on the floor so I pull his t-shirt up over his head, hands skimming over hard abs before I go to his jeans, unzipping them and pushing them down his legs. He steps out of them along with his shoes and socks, before I push down his boxers, leaving his length, already hard again, free to spring up against his stomach. He sits at the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor, and I look over at Jimin. ‘Condom, daddy?’ I ask, and he throws one to me skilfully, already prepared. ‘Go on, princess,’ Jimin says, motioning towards Jungkook, and I stand in front of the boy. Slowly, I roll the condom onto his length, hearing him hiss at the feeling.

‘Go ahead, noona,’ Jungkook urges, and I slowly sink down onto his length, feeling him go deeper than I thought possible. ‘Fuck, Jungkook,’ I moan out as his head drops back, mouth open in a silent groan. I start to grind down on him slowly, both of us letting out moans in synchrony. ‘Fuck, noona, you’re so fucking tight,’ Jungkook moans as I increase my pace, his hands on my waist helping. ‘Look at you, bouncing on my cock like a good girl,’ he groans, and I let out a moan at his words, my back arching, his face in between my breasts. He attaches his mouth to one hard nipple, tongue swirling around the tip, and I can’t stop the moans that fall from my mouth in quick succession. He gets impatient at my pace after a while and begins thrusting up into me instead, and my head falls back out of pleasure. His balls slap against my ass as he grinds up against me, his head repeatedly hitting the spot inside me that has me nearly screaming. And then Jimin’s hands appear on my back, just as Jungkook’s mouth moves to the other nipple. ‘Can we try something, princess?’ Jimin asks, his mouth against my ear, before I feel a finger in the place between the dimples at the bottom of my back. ‘Daddy,’ I say warningly, knowing that he knows how against anal I am. We tried it once, and let’s just say, it wasn’t pretty. ‘No, princess, not that,’ he chuckles, ‘do you think you can take me and Jungkook?’ ‘Where, daddy?’ I ask, confused, and he lets out a soft laugh again. Jungkook thrusts into me particularly hard and I let out a loud moan, head falling back against Jimin’s now bare chest. ‘In your tight little pussy,’ he says, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought, Jungkook instantly sliding in and out much easier. ‘I think she likes the sound of that, hyung,’ Jungkook grins, hair pasted to his forehead with perspiration.

‘Turn her around, Kook,’ Jimin says, and Jungkook lifts me up, turning me around so my back presses against his front. He slides back into me easily, and I shudder as I look up at Jimin, who hands me a condom. I rip it open and slide it onto him, pumping his length a few times before he begins. He drags his head along my clit before bringing it lower, nudging against Jungkook’s length. ‘Do you think you can take it, princess?’ he asks, less of a question than a challenge, and I nod nervously. He presses his head against Jungkook’s shaft, slowly inching up into the tiny gap. The pain is almost unbearable, the sensation of being so completely full foreign, and I lean back against Jungkook’s shoulder, a cry leaving my throat. ‘Remember the safe word?’ Jimin asks me and I nod. ‘What is it?’ Jungkook asks. ‘Red,’ I reply breathlessly, Jimin nodding at my confirmation. As he slides further and further in, the pain ebbs away into pleasure and it isn’t long before I’m eager. ‘Please, daddy, move,’ I moan, and he chuckles, thrusting into me gently. All three of us moan, Jungkook’s mouth coming to my shoulder and biting gently, my head falling back against him, Jimin watching me intently. Slowly but surely, Jimin increases his pace, his cock scraping against my walls and Jungkook’s own length. The sound of wet squelches, moans, grunts, groans and skin slapping against skin fill the room, Jungkook’s hands digging into my waist as Jimin grips onto my shoulders. ‘Daddy, harder, please,’ I moan, Jimin obliging, the three of us letting out moans at the faster pace. Jimin’s fingers come to my clit just as Jungkook begins to knead my breasts, and my orgasm washes over me without an inch of warning. I moan out, my head against Jungkook’s chest, Jungkook now rocking up to alternate with Jimin’s thrusts.

‘Princess, you’re gonna regret cumming,’ Jimin warns with a grin, increasing his pace so much that he’s fucking me into oblivion, Jungkook speeding up to match him. The two of them scrape against my walls as I come down from my high. ‘Daddy, I can’t,’ I whine, the overstimulation kicking in, and he only grins in response. ‘You’re a big girl, princess, you can handle it,’ he says, the two men going impossibly fast. Jimin thrusts particularly hard, having tears running down my face, and I let out load moans of both of their names. ‘Rub yourself, princess,’ Jimin groans, cheeks flushed and face screwed up in pleasure. ‘I can’t, daddy,’ I whine, my head whirling. ‘I’m not gonna tell you again. Rub your fucking clit like the dirty girl you are,’ he spits out, and I do as he says, my limp hand beginning to rub at my clit. ‘Fuck, daddy! Ah, Jungkook! Oh, god, feels so good,’ I moan out, the two of their thrusts beginning sloppier. ‘Such a good girl, noona, so good. I’m not gonna last long, hyung,’ Jungkook groans. ‘Fuck, me neither,’ Jimin says, slapping my hand away and replacing it with his own, his insanely rapid pace having my legs shaking and body convulsing between the two men. I already feel my orgasm approaching, my moans getting louder and quicker. ‘Fuck, Jungkook! Daddy, I’m gonna cum,’ I moan. ‘Not yet, princess, wait for me and Jungkook,’ Jimin says, his hand moving so fast that I can barely think straight. And then together, the two of them thrust into me hard, going deeper than possible, and I feel my orgasm washing over me with a scream of their names. Jungkook follows straight after, Jimin only a few seconds after him, and they wait until we’ve all come down from our highs until they stop thrusting, dicks already softening inside me. Jimin pulls out first, pulling off his condom and throwing it in the bin. I climb off Jungkook then, and my slick mixed with a milky white substance drips down the inside of my leg.

‘Fuck, noona, is that your cum? God, I’ve never seen a girl’s cum so… white,’ Jungkook says as he gets up, throwing away his condom too. I freeze, looking down at my leg, my entire body going cold. ‘That’s not mine,’ I whisper. ‘What? Speak up, princess,’ Jimin says. ‘That’s not my cum. That’s one of yours,’ I breathe out, having to sit down from my light-headedness. ‘Wait, seriously?’ Jungkook asks, grin disappearing from his face, and I nod, feeling faint. ‘You’re on the pill, though, right?’ Jungkook asks. ‘It doesn’t always work. And I haven’t been great with my timings recently, because of exams,’ I whisper, and the two of them look like they’ve seen a ghost. ‘Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We don’t even know whose it was,’ Jimin groans, pacing the floor. ‘I think I’m gonna pass out,’ I whisper. ‘Jungkook, put some clothes on and go get her some food from downstairs,’ Jimin instructs and Jungkook nods, instantly following orders from his hyung. ‘Here, y/n,’ Jimin says, pressing a glass of water into my hand, and I sip some down, the liquid easing the tightness of my throat. ‘Lie down,’ he says, and I do so, Jimin using a damp towel to clean in between my legs. ‘I need to shower. And take a morning after pill, just in case,’ I whisper, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘You can do that in the morning. Right now, you need to go pee, have something to eat and then go to sleep,’ Jimin says, helping me to the bathroom. I quickly do a wee and when I come back into the bedroom, Jimin is redressed and holding out a pair of pants and a black hoodie to me. ‘Whose are these?’ I ask, eyeing the pants suspiciously, and he sighs with a small smile. ‘Yours, from two years ago. You left them here, so I washed them,’ he says, and I pull them on, followed by the hoodie. Jungkook walks back in then, pale, with a plate of mac and cheese. Jimin feeds me the food, the two of them talking quietly, but I’m too tired to pay attention to their conversation. Once I’m finished, Jimin tucks me into bed and turns off the lights, leaving with a kiss on the forehead. Once I fall asleep, a pretty boy plagues my dreams.

[starboystan]

friends

posting my fic, it might suck but pls be nice I’m nervous

summary: Stan has a secret, he wants to tell his best friend Richie...

words: 3308

here goes nothing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was raining outside the Tuesday Stanley Uris decided it was time to tell his best friend his biggest secret. Seems pretty fitting actually, come to think of it. The rain flowed from the rooftops into the streets of Derry, just like they had 9 years before, on the day Stan Uris first met Richie Tozier.

Before school on the first day of second grade the rain began to fall and didn’t stop until four that same afternoon. A boy was sat at the kitchen table with his mother and father, his feet swinging gently as they were too short to reach the floor. His small tight curls peeked out under the hood of his raincoat as he walked from the front door to the car. It was becoming a Uris family tradition that both Donald and Andrea drove him to school on his first day after summer vacation. It was rare for it to be raining this early into Fall, but little Stan Uris had no complaints. He always quite liked the rain. The gentle patter of rain against his window was something that never failed to comfort Stan on a restless night. Stan got out of the car at school and thanked his parents for the ride. He was extremely formal for a seven year old, a well-mannered and well-behaved young boy. He tucked his satchel under his arm to protect it from the drizzle and headed into the school building. It was very easy for him to find his way to his assigned classroom. He was among the first to arrive, naturally, so he took out his pencils and notepad and sat patiently as his classmates poured in to the classroom.

Six minutes and twenty-seven seconds into homeroom, a dripping wet boy stumbled into the room, tripping over his own feet and apologising profusely. His dark black locks clung to his forehead, a thick pair of glasses hiding the majority of the features of his face. He was directed to the empty desk on Stan’s left. Stan did his best to not be distracted by the boy who continued to fidget and make small noises, obviously trying to get Stan’s attention. The teacher instructed the class to write down a sentence about themselves, Stan was quick to pick up one of his five perfectly sharpened, same sized pencils and jotted down and introductory sentence. The boy beside him sighed with a clear sign of frustration. From the second he walked into the room, Stan could tell that this messy looking boy was unorganised. After a three-minute long struggle, the boy began to ask around frantically for a pencil. No one even considered it, no one but Stanley. It was unusual for him, to say the least. He’d always kept to himself at school, never finding it particularly necessary to collect a variety of friends along the way. But something deep inside pushed him to hold out the third of his five pencils towards the boy sitting next to him “You can borrow mine” he said, the corners of his mouth creeping into a small but welcoming smile. The boy stared back, almost dumbfounded over the fact that someone was helping him. He mumbled out a “thank you” and scrawled down a sentence that was hardly legible to Stan. “Richie, my name’s Richie” the boy says as he hands back the pencil. Stan nodded and said...

“Hi Richie, can we talk?” The house phone was cold against his face. Sixteen years old now, Stan was still fairly quiet to strangers. A whole different story to his friends. Stan was smart and sensible but always had a way of being able to make his friends cry with laughter over a witty comeback or silly joke. “Stanley do you realise that it’s eight in the morning on a Saturday. What’s more important than my beauty sleep?” Richie groaned, his voice giving away that he’d just woken up. “Gonna take a lot more than a few hours to fix you up Richard” Stan rolled his eyes “Can you just come over? This is serious” he said, a little urgently. “Staaaann” Richie sighed “It’s raining, can’t we speak over the phone?” Richie sat up in bed, not yet making any moves to get out of it. “No. You know what? Forget it, I don’t need to talk anymore. It’s nothing” Stan was in a way relieved to say that, his mind racing to figure out a way to expose the secret he’d been keeping for two painfully long years. Richie recognised the tone of Stan’s voice and knew it was urgent “I’m coming”. Before Stan had the chance to protest, the line went dead. Richie made his way down Jackson Street…

towards Stanley’s house, where he spent every minute he could, out playing ball in the yard or trying (and failing) to sit still while Stan looked for new birds to make notes about in one of his special books. The years flashed by fast and the two of them began to expand their friendship. At first just onto two others, and eventually they had a group of seven in total - The Loser’s Club.

The Summer of 91 brought the first signs of hope since the trauma of the summer two years prior. As spring rolled into summer, the sun came back with a familiar face. Beverly Marsh, who had left seven hundred and twenty four days before, was back in Derry. With the group back to it’s full size of seven, the Losers fell back in love with their idle town. But that wasn’t the only instance of love that sparked over the summer. Losing Bev had been hard on everyone, but it didn’t hit anyone as hard as it hit Ben. He realised that he was deeply in love with the fiery haired girl, and he needed to let her know. That brought the beginnings of one of many relationships within the Losers Club.

It was a warm summer night when fourteen year old Stanley Uris came to a realisation. A game of Truth or Dare was spun on its head when Stan pushed himself out of his comfort zone and chose “Dare” for the first time. Six heads snapped up to look at him in shock. He regretted it immediately to say the least. “You have to kiss….” Bev said with grin that was verging on sadistic. Stan clenched his jaw, he’d never been secure within the norm of being straight, and he’d also never kissed anyone. “All of us” Richie chimed in, laughing at the expression on Stan’s face. All Eddie’s talk of germs was racing through his head as he moved around the circle. It wasn’t until he was face to face with Mike Hanlon that Stan became very nervous, fiddling with his sleeves and tapping his toes inside his shoes. It was a fast kiss, barley over a second, but it was enough for Stan to know. He wished he didn’t know. The excitement of his friends quickly died down when Stan left in a hurry, turning back for half a moment to look at Mike before he ducked out of the door and began the walk back to his house. How could he feel like that? Why a boy? What made it so different with him? The thoughts raced around his head the whole way home, and followed him well into the night, keeping him up all night long. He couldn’t understand anything, so he said…

“Nothing, Richard I told you it was nothing” he muttered to the soaked boy who was standing in his doorway in his pyjama bottoms and some ‘edgy’ band t-shirt “Why the hell didn’t you bring a jacket?”. Richie just shrugged and shook his head like a wet dog getting the water off of him “This sounded more important that a jacket Staniel. Can you at least let me in?” he pleaded with his eyes. A sigh left Stan as he held the door open for his best friend “Please just don’t step on the carpet. Dad’ll kill me if it gets wet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep off it. Have a towel or something? It’s fucking freezing” Richie groaned and sat at the kitchen table, causing Stan to visibly cringe. Stan headed to the closet to get a towel for him and returned still frowning at Richie. He had no reason to be annoyed at him, the stress of the situation was getting to him and making him snappy and very irritable. He tossed the towel to Richie and sat down opposite, unsure of where to start. Richie noticed and did it for him “You’re being very…”

“Quiet, even for you. You can talk to me you know, Stan” Richie sounded almost scared. After that night playing truth or dare, Stan went through a lot inside his own head. He was just fifteen, now more closed off than ever before, when he tried to tell Richie the first time. It didn’t go to plan to say the least. The day ended with Stan meeting his lunch again and running home crying. The problem was he couldn’t admit it to himself. No matter what he tried to tell himself, Stan just couldn’t get it out in a way that he could accept. Instead he settled for the idea that he’d never tell anyone and stay miserable forever. But this wasn’t up to him apparently. The Losers we're growing older and to Stans surprise, people seemed to want them around. The parties became more frequent,and hiding became harder. He never drank, didn’t trust himself enough to keep quiet.

The weekend before he invited Richie to his house during the biggest rainstorm in Derry for a long time, The Losers went along to some party at some house out on the outskirts of their small town. “Casey Something-or-Other” Richie had said as Stan drove the Losers up past the Standpipe towards the small suburbs on the edge of town.

The night went as they usually did, Stan slipped off from his friends once they were all busy dancing or talking. He sat himself in an upstairs bedroom until a couple decided they’d prefer to be in there. He wandered down and sat in his car, not noticing the other boy sitting in the back. He turned on the radio and tucked his legs up underneath him, just sitting watching the party go on inside the house and humming along to whatever song that was playing. The sharp clearing of another’s throat nearly stopped Stan’s heart, meaning that the small noise from the boy in the back was met with a yell. The curls on his head bounced as he spun around in his seat to look for the source of the noise. Fear became confusion when his green eyes met the deep, warm brown of Mike Hanlon’s. “Oh, uhhh, sorry Stan, didn’t mean to scare you like that” Mike spoke very quietly, looking everywhere but Stan’s eyes. Something was clearly wrong but Stan didn’t feel right just asking what was up, not after avoiding one-on-one interactions with Mike for almost a year now. “What are you doing in here?” Stan asks nervously, nervous of what he might say and what he might do. “I could asked you the same question” Mike replied quickly, almost defensive. “This happens to be my car, I was just-“ he took a breath and stopped himself from finishing the sentence. How could he tell Mike that he’d been avoiding him without sounding rude. “Just what? Why’d you always disappear at parties Stan? Do you… do you have like a secret girlfriend or something?” Mike speaks slowly and calmly, which makes Stan jealous because he can’t seem to find a way to calm down, his heart is beating wildly and he can’t seem to keep still. “What? No I don’t have a secret girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend full stop. I don’t disappear, always stick with you guys. Why’d you want to know anyway?” Stan spoke in a slur, stumbling on his words “Have you been drinking?” Mike frowned, not expecting this from Stan at all.

Stan turned around and flipped the radio off in a swift movement as he shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows, Mike simultaneously shuffled forward in his seat without Stan noticing. “I want to know because you’re my friend Stan, I worry about you. You’ve been pretty distant recently, we’ve all noticed it. I’m in here because I saw you sit in the car the whole time last weekend. I guessed you’d do it at this one too so I wanted to keep you company” Mike said softly, putting his hand on Stan’s upper arm. Stan kept his eyes on the spot where Mike’s hand was touching him, his skin seemed to set on fire under where Mike touched him. “I….I’m fine, you shouldn’t worry about me. I’m okay. You can go in and have fun in there if you want” he doesn’t look up from the connection between them on his arm, a thousand thoughts swam around his head; why hasn’t Mike moved his hand yet? Was he feeling it too? Why does he care so much? These thoughts were interrupted when Mike asked a very quiet question “Can I ask you something?” Stan flashed his eyes up to Mike’s face for a split second “Sure?” Mike took a deep breath like the question held great importance to him “Do you not want to be my friend?” he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he waited for an answer. Stan was taken by surprise, he understood though, of course Mike would think that with the way Stan had been acting around him “Yes, I mean No, I mean….. Mike I want to be your friend. I really do…” a tear fell down his cheek and he was glad he wasn’t facing Mike, but Mike could see, he got ever further forward in the back seat, now very close to Stan “...there’s just so much going on in my head and I can hardly even think straight right now. Nothing makes sense, hasn’t for a long time since I realised I’m… I.. I don’t know, I want to be friends, I really do, I like you, I like you a lot, maybe more than I should and I’m sorry, I’m sorry Mike I’ve not been fair to you but the truth is I-“ he didn’t finish his sentence because a finger hooked under his chin and pulled it to face the boy sitting in the back, who drew Stan into a gentle kiss. The curly haired boy went along with the kiss for a moment before his brain caught up with what was happening. He shot back and spun his body completely to face Mike “What did you do that for!?” his voice was quiet and he was still crying slightly. Mike wiped Stan’s cheeks with his thumbs “I like you Stan. And not the way you’re supposed to like a friend. Like like. And I don’t understand either” The words made Stan feel fuzzy inside, almost like he wasn’t real and all of this was happening in some crazy dream that he’d wake up from any second - except he didn’t wake up. Instead, he leaned forward and wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulders, hugging him tightly despite the uncomfortable angle due to the car seat. “Come sit here please?” Mike asked, with an unfamiliar look in his eyes. He was unsure, Stan had never seen Mike look unsure before, at least not like this. Stan complied and sat beside one of his six best friends in the back of his mom’s car, not moving or speaking until he felt a strong arm creep around his shoulder and pull him closer. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Stan took a breath and relaxed. He didn’t know what would come of this moment, whether this would seal the deal and give him all he’d wanted deep down or do the opposite, draw the two boys even further away. What he did know was that it felt right. How could something wrong - wrong by the standards of his parents, of his religion, of everyone at school - feel so right?

The two of them just sat there, in the back of Stan’s mother’s car, Stan sometimes crying, sometimes leaning into the taller boy’s chest, until the party was over.

There was no going back from there. He knew for sure and that meant he had to tell Richie, there was no getting around it. That’s why he invited him round on the Tuesday morning following the weekend of Casey Davidson’s. “I have something to tell you. And you have to promise you won’t laugh or get weird or make some stupid joke about it” a monotonous voice comes from the light haired boy facing Richie on the table. Richie raised his hands in surrender and shakes his head “When do I ever make stupid jokes?” he says with a grin. “Richie, please? Cross your heart” Stan narrowed his eyes, his leg shaking slightly under the table. Suddenly Richie became serious, as if the importance of the crossed heart was something as solid as a contract to him. In fact, between Stan and Richie, a crossed heart was one of the realest deals that could ever be made “Cross my heart” he said while forming an X over his chest with an index finger.

Stan’s lungs filled up with air and he slowly let it all out “It’s something I think I’ve known for a while, only I’ve not been able to come to terms with it… until now I guess” he took another breath and looked at the table, foucsing on the tiny detail of the wood grain that he had studied so many times before “I found someone that I like… That I like in a different way from the way I like you or Bev or Eddie. That maybe I even love” Richie smiled and leant forward to pat him on the shoulder “That’s great Stanthony! When do we-“ he was cut off abruptly “Please. Let me finish… I- I like boys. No, a boy. Richie, I’m gay” his eyes crept back up to meet Richie’s slowly, like he was scared of the reaction he might get.

“Stan…” Richie took one of Stan’s hands and nodded at him “It’s okay, it doesn’t change anything, you know that right? You’re still my best friend. Nothing can change that” he sounded calm, almost like he was doing one of his voices, except this one wasn’t to make Stan laugh or annoy him, it was to make him feel safe. Stan searched Richie’s eyes for any sign of falseness or satire but found nothing but warmth, with a small squeeze of his best friend’s hands and a tear rolling down his cheek he opened his mouth to speak again “I love you, you’re the brother my parents could never be bothered to have” With that he stood up and pulled Richie into a hug, not even caring that he was still damp. Richie patted him on the back “I love you too, man. Always been there to look out for me, gotta do my best to do the same for you…” a smirk formed on his lips when he released Stan from the hug “Who’s the lucky fella then? Do I know him?” he gave Stan a playful shove and waggled his eyebrows. Stan snapped back to his normal self and rolled his eyes, although he was still smiling. A huge weight was off his shoulders, and even know Richie was just one of the many people he still had to tell, it was a good place to start.

[supernatural-jackles]

Can I Kiss Where It Hurts?

Title: Can I Kiss Where It Hurts?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4,541

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of Injuries, MoC!Dean, Vulnerable!Dean, Fluff, Smut. 

Request by @feelmyroarrrr: Wooohoo an open request box!!! Dean x reader pls, they go on a hunt, just get a few scratches, deans super nurse tho and admits it's because he was worried she could get hurt worse, feelings blah, smut yay!! 😘😘

Prompt: “Can I kiss where it hurts?”

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this one!! Feedback would be greatly appreciated! :)

x

  “Okay, we’re going in. Y/N, you head in and go left. Sam go right and I’ll go straight and we’ll meet in the middle once everything is cleared out. This place is crawling with demons,” Dean explained. His hands moving in each direction for extra effect. You nodded your head in agreement, pulling out the demon knife from the back of your pants.

 “Got it,” you replied. Sam nodded his head, grabbing an angel blade from Dean’s duffle.

 “Stay safe, sweetheart,” he said softly, “see you on the other side.”

 “You two, Winchester’s. I don’t feel like burning one of y’alls bodies after this hunt,” you chuckled.

 You took off down the left corridor of the abandoned asylum. The smell of dust and dead bodies hit your nose a hell of a lot faster than you expected it to. The hallway was dark and very closed off, making your heart race in the anticipation of being jumped or caught off. It was the same with every hunt, and after years of the family business, it never got any easier. Although it felt a little less nerve wracking when you knew the boys have your back.

 “Winchester’s little pet,” a female voice called from behind you. “It’s going to be fun killing you!”

 When you came to, you instantly realized that you were strapped tightly to what felt like a post. Your head sagged down and your heart was still racing. This could be it for you. This could be the end and you wouldn’t even get the chance to get out of the life and live the unrealistic apple pie life. You were never going to be able to tell Dean how you felt.

 After knowing the Winchester’s for the last fifteen years, spending hours in the car together, sharing a bed with one of them then switching the next. You knew you were bound to fall for one of them. If you were to ask yourself, you thought it was going to be Sam. Sam Winchester, the sweet, compassionate, caring man that you instantly got along with. But you soon came to the realization that you and Sam were never going to be anything more than friends. It just didn’t hit off in that way. He became more like your brother.

 But Dean on the other hand. Dean was this cocky, badass kind of guy that protected everyone he cared about. At the beginning, Dean would shoot you a wink and there was some flirty banter between the two of you. That all slowed down the second you joined them permanently. You knew it was something more when he patched you up after a rough ghoul hunt. He was sweet and gentle, very gentle. He made jokes and told you stories that would help take your mind off the pain. The way he looked at you, the way he made your heart flutter in your chest. No one had ever made you feel that way and it only escaladed from there. The close proximity when you shared a bed with him. The way his arm would brush against you before he pulled you into him like it was no big deal. You fell for the older Winchester, hard and fast and all at once. Even if that stupid apple pie life was a pipe dream, you knew you’d be incredibly happy if you spent the rest of your life next to him.

 But all that could be over if you made one wrong move.

 You weren’t ready to give up.

 “Well well, little miss ‘thinks she’s a badass’ Winchester pet,” the blonde demon started.

 “You Abbadon groupies really gotta get a hobbie. This is really getting old. I mean come on, Crowley is the king, Abbadon is dead. Get over it,” you told them.

 “Don’t touch her!” A deep, gruff voice called out. You looked up and made eye contact with Dean, Sam following behind him. Both of them being held by demons. The three of you were screwed. “I swear to god, you lay a finger on her and I’ll rip your throat out.”

 “Big talk from you Deano. Too bad you don’t scare me,” the blonde chuckled.

 “Right. But just remember, bitch. I’m the one who killed your so called leader. You’re nothing but a bunch of lowlife black eyed son’s of bitches who ain’t got nothin’ better to do than to kidnap a couple of kids in order to make a statement,” Dean barked.

 “And you still got caught,” she tisked.

 Dean got out of the demon’s hold in an instant, punching him straight in the jaw. Sam doing the same. Both of them fought with so much ease. Dodging punch and kick before pulling out the angel blade. Two demons down and it was only a matter of time until they took out the rest.

 You tried to wiggle free from the ropes that were tied tightly around you but no avail. They were too tight and the only result you got was some rope burn. Three more demons down, one more to go. The blonde bitch.

 “Peace out, bitch,” Dean smirked before driving the angel blade through her chest. You could see just how happy Dean was to take her out, a little too happy thanks to the Mark of Cain. She wasn’t all that bright. She watched the rest of the demons die, not even trying to make a move on you.

 “You okay?” Sam asked, coming up from behind you to cut you free from the ropes.

 “Rope burn. Couple of scratched. My head hurts,” you told him. Your vision going blurry quicker than you could keep up with. Everything faded to black.

 You came to once more. This time, a hand softly caressing your face. Your eyes fluttered open, only to find you were back in the bunker, in Dean’s room. Your head felt a little better than it did before. Your wrists were sore. You were happy to be home. You were happy to be safe with Dean.

 “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly. “How you feeling?”

 “Sore. I gotta clean my cuts. That asylum gave me the creeps. The last thing I need is tetanus.” Your voice was raspy from lack of use, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

 “Lay down, I’ll clean you up,” he offered. Your eyes met his and your heart fluttered in your chest. He got up from the side of the bed and headed out to grab the first aid kit. You rolled up the sleeves of your flannel and took one look at the rope burns. They were sore to the touch, and red, definitely going to take a least a few weeks to heal. “I brought some whiskey, to help with the pain.”

 “Thanks, Dean,” you breathed out.

 “Just relax, okay? Where are you hurt?” he questioned. You remember when you and the blonde got in a fight before she knocked you out cold that she got you real good on your ribs, which is probably why you were so sore at the moment. You sat up and shrugged the flannel off your shoulders. Dean’s eyes were on you the entire time. You lifted up your shirt to reveal the wound. “Fuck, why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

 “I passed out remember!”

 “God, Y/N!”

 “It’s not even that bad, Dean. It doesn’t even hurt that much,” you assured him.

 “That’s not the point. Sure this is nothing this time, but what about next time? Next time we might not be so lucky,” he argued.

 “You can’t think like that Dean. That’s going to get you killed. You know I can handle my own and sometimes this happens. I’ll patch it up, okay.”

 “No. Let me,” he said. His jaw was clenched. He opened up the first aid kit and grabbed the rubbing alcohol, pouring a small amount on a cotton ball before dabbing it on your skin. You winced at the stinging sensation it gave you and Dean instantly apologized, his expression softening instantly. “It’s not bad, sweetheart. A couple of bandaids should do the trick okay?”

 “Kay,” you whispered.

 “Now, I hope you don’t mind, all we’ve got is Scooby Doo ones. It’s all the grocery store had, other than princess ones and I wasn’t buying them,” he chuckled, lightning the mood. “You’ll be good as new after this.”

 “You’re such a good nurse, Deano,” you giggled.

 “Shut up.”

 “In all seriousness, you are Dean. You’re gentle compared to Sam. God knows what you did before I came along to patch you up,” you smiled.

 “I suffered,” he let out a laugh, his hand reaching back behind his head, rubbing the short hairs there. Something he did when he was nervous.

 “Well thank you. I’m glad you’re here to patch me up,” you told him.

 “Yeah, just try not to get anymore next hunt. Patching you up is my least favourite thing to do.”

 “Awwe Dean, you worry too much.”

 “Yeah I do,” he said seriously. “I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if that demon was smarter. We could have lost you today so you’re right. I do worry too much, but I can’t stand the thought of losin’ you.”

 “I’m here, Dean. Nothing’s going to take me away from you and Sam. Not on my watch,” you started. You promised yourself that if you got out of the hunter alive that you’d tell Dean how you felt an right now felt like the perfect time to tell him. There was no Sam in the room. It was quiet and private. You could run away still if you needed to, which was a good chance. But you realized today that the life you live is too short to be playing around your feelings. And if you want to be happy, you need to take a chance. “Did you get hurt when you were fighting?”

 “Not bad. Nothing that needs looked at,” he shrugged. You squinted your eyes at him.

 “Where did they get you?” you questioned. “Just remember tetanus is a thing.” He scoffed and took a seat on the bed. He removed his flannel shirt, placing it flat on the empty space at the end of the bed. He then lifted up his shirt, just enough to reveal a cut on his hip. It wasn’t deep by any means, but it was at least five inches long.

 You got off the bed and opened the first aid kit, grabbing the rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. He lay back on the bed, his legs dangling off as his forearm covered his eyes. He took a sharp intake of breath the second you touched the cotton ball to his open wound. You cleaned it thoroughly as he flinched slightly.

 “I think you’re safe from tetanus,” you said softly.  “But there is one more thing.”

 “Y/N, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t need Scooby Doo bandaids. It’s just a scratch,” he muttered.

 “Can I kiss where it hurts?” you said bluntly. There was no taking your words back now, even if you wanted to. Dean’s arm lifted from over his eyes, allowing him to look at you. His brows furrowed. “My mom always said it promotes healing or something along those lines.”

 You grew nervous as hell. All of a sudden, it sounded so stupid.  What were you thinking? Right, taking a chance. But all you did was make yourself sound like an idiot. You wanted to run out of the room with the amount of embarrassment you were feeling.

 “You’re more hurt then I am, Y/N. I’m not sure it’s a good idea-”

 “You’re right. ’s a stupid thing anyways,” you said, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

 “I was going to say, I’m not sure it’s a good idea if you were to because you’re more hurt. If anything, I should be the one kissing you where it hurts,” he muttered. There was your in.

 “Like I said before Winchester,” you smirked, standing up straight, trying to muster up enough confidence to really go through with this. You placed your hands on his knees, “you worry too damn much.”

 You leaned forward and brushed your lips against the wound on his hip and you felt him tense for a moment before he relaxed into the mattress. You pressed a couple of kisses along the cut, your eyes daring to meet with his.

 “Does it hurt anywhere else?” you asked, your voice low to hide the nervousness that was growing stronger and stronger in the pit of your stomach. He was drawn a blank and a silence fell over the two of you. The Mark of Cain came to your mind and that was a sensitive issue. He never let anyone touch it, let alone kiss it. This was your moment. You had one chance at this and you knew you’d kick yourself if you ever missed the opportunity.

 He sat up on the bed, his eyes still locked on you. You took a seat next to him, making yourself comfortable on his memory foam mattress, laying down on your stomach. You took his right arm, linking your fingers with his as your lips hovered over the Mark. You could feel just how tense Dean was. You pressed your lips gingerly to the scar. You heard him let out a breath and felt him relax. His other hand made its way into you hair, gingerly brushing his fingers through the soft strands as you kissed along the angry red mark on his forearm.

 “Y/N,” he sighed. You smiled at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue. You kissed the mark once more before you slowly sat up, your eyes meeting his. You cupped his cheeks, feeling his stubble against the palm of your hands. His expression was soft, his breathing was calm, his eyes watching your every move. You leaned forward, pulling his head forward gently pressing a kiss to the small cut on his forehead. You loved this man more than you could ever describe. The look on his face in this very moment was enough to make you fall for him all over again.

 “Anywhere else?” you whispered, almost inaudibly. Your eyes flicked up, meeting with his gorgeous forest green orbs. Your heart fluttering once more.

 “Just one,” he mouthed, leaning forward. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, his lips were on yours, hard and demanding. His hands snaking around your back, pulling you into him. You responded back seconds later. Your heart was racing a mile a minute, your world falling into place.

 You leaned back, pulling him with you until your back hit the mattress. His kiss became softer; sweeter. His lips moved slowly with yours as he made himself comfortable between your legs. Your noses brushed together as you switched sides, your mouth opening in the process. Dean’s tongue slipped in, brushing gently against yours as his hand came up to your cheek. His fingers pushing the hair away from your face. You melted into the mattress. Your heart felt full. This is exactly where you wanted to be. You wanted this moment to happen for as long as you can remember. You wanted to feel his lips on your so bad and feel his hands on your body as something more. You wanted to hold him tight to you and never let go. This was your version of an apple pie life.

 He pulled away, trying to catch his breath in the process. You kept your tight grip on him, afraid of him getting up and leaving you when he fit so perfectly where he was. He smiled down at you. His thumb stroke your cheek.

 “You take my breath away, Dean Winchester,” you whispered, not daring to meet his eyes. His thumb stopped and his hand trailed down to your chin, lifting your gaze upwards. His smile was genuine, his tongue peeking past his white teeth. He tilted forward, your noses touching as your breath mingled with his. The anticipation alone made you all tingly inside.

 “You make my heart race, Y/N Y/L/N,” he said almost inaudibly. His other hand took yours, pulling it between your two bodies. He placed it directly over his heart and you felt it. His heart was racing. Your eyes locked once more. You were going to say it. There was absolutely nothing stopping you from telling Dean how you felt.

 “I- I love you,” you mumbled. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m not expecting you to even feel the same but I can’t keep hiding how I feel about you. Life’s too short, and I realized today that I’m not invincible and I’m not going to live until I’m sixty. I’ve accepted that but I can’t accept being scared of how I feel especially when I picture myself happy. You’re the one by my side when I picture that. I’m not perfect, you’re not perfect but this; this feels pretty damn close to perfect to me and if I can live the rest of my days like this then I’ll be just fine.”

 Silence. Pure silence. God, you probably scared him off. Of course you scared him off. You told him you loved him for crying out loud. “Please say something,” you begged. “Anything.”

 His heart was still going a mile a minute and it scared you to take your hand off of him, in case he was to pull away and leave you without so much as a word. You needed something, even if it was just an ‘okay’.

 “I’m scared,” he whispered. Your eyes went wide at his confession. Never in your life have you heard those words escape past his lips. Dean put on a brave face and made sure you and Sam were good, never once caring about how he was doing. Every wall he put up, every brave face, every emotion he told himself he couldn’t feel just came crashing down. He was more vulnerable than ever.

 “Of what?”

 “Letting myself go there with you. Of letting myself have you like that; this, when the Mark is on my arm. I-I can’t hurt you,” he revealed.

 “How did it feel when I kissed the Mark?” you questioned.

 “Calm, in a different way,” he started. You took your hand off his chest and reached for his arm. Your fingers grazed over the Mark. “It feels like it should be wrong.”

 “I’m not afraid of you, Dean. I’m not afraid of you hurting me and you want to know why?” you smiled. ��Because you get worried about a few scratches and put Scooby Doo bandaids on me. Because despite the mark, you’re nothing but gentle towards me. But I’m scared of living a life without you. It’s okay to be scared, Dean. It’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable and feel love,” you told him. “I love you, Dean Winchester. I always have.”

 He kissed you, swiftly and carefully, throwing his emotions into the kiss. All the words he couldn’t say were said in the way his lips pressed against yours.

 “I want you,” he said. “I want all of you, okay? I could have lost you today and then you tell me...you tell me you love me and I need you.”

 “I’m yours.”

 “‘M yours too.”

 “Mhh Dean,” you smiled. “If this is going further, we should probably close the door.”

 “Right,’ he chuckled. He rolled off of you and stood up. Was this really going to happen? Were you really going to have Dean Winchester after years of daydreaming. Was this even real? You watched as he shut his door quietly. Your eyes locked on his every move. “You sure about this? About me?”

 “Never been more sure about anything,” you stated.

 He removed his shirt, throwing it over to the couch by the wall before climbing back on the bed. You smiled the second you saw his naked torso. His anti possession tattoo standing out on his chest. He was so damn attractive and he knew it too.  

 You sat up. Your hands instantly making their way to his belt buckle. It took you a split second to figure out how to undo it before you were unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them down his thick, muscular bowlegs. You could see his half hard cock in his boxers. The seconds he was out of his jeans, he was on the bed. His fingers grasping the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. Then he went for your bra, expertly removing it with care, not to hurt your wound.

 “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” he muttered. His lips were on yours once more, this time with the Dean Winchester confidence that you somehow expected. God, did this man know how to kiss. His lips were soft and gentle, yet demanding. Heat was pooling in your core and you desperately needed to feel him between your legs.

 He unbuttoned your jeans, slipping them down your legs, taking your bright pink panties along the way. He took one good long look at you and you could see that he liked what he saw, which definitely made you less nervous.

 “Your boxers need to go,” you giggled. You sat up and curled your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down, his cock sprang free from the confinements.  He was long, and thick and so damn hard. You licked your lips in anticipation. You wanted him so bad. You needed to feel him inside you.

 “Like what you see?” he said with a cocky grin playing on his lips.

 “Shut up, Winchester,” you teased. “Come over here and fuck me.”

 He kneeled down on the bed, spreading your legs further apart so he could fit perfectly between them and he did. His hands rested on each side of your shoulders, holding up his weight as he looked down at you.

 “Condom?” he questioned.

 “Birth control,” you whispered.

 He dragged his fingers through your soaking folds before stroking his length a few times. The tip of his cock pressed to your entrance, teasing you with the anticipation of him filling you up like you desperately wanted him to.

 He pushed into you slowly, his cock stretching your walls in the most perfect way. You let out a wanton moan, your hands clasping over your mouth the second you realized how loud you were. Sam was still in the bunker after all. Dean only smirked as the rest of his length pressed into you, his balls pressed against your ass as he filled you up completely. There was a slight stinging sensation, but nonetheless, he felt amazing inside you.

 “Fuck, you’re so tight around me,” he breathed out, his eyes shut securely. “So fucking good.”

 “Mmh, move please, Dean,” you gasped, “I need you to move.”

 He pulled out almost completely before plunging back in, your walls clenching around him as he moved. You spread your legs wider apart, wrapping one around him as he moved inside you. Your hands dug into his shoulders, pulling him into you, your breasts pressed against his chest. You threw your head back as he thrusted in and out.

 “Fuck Dean, So good,” you moaned into his ear. His lips latched onto your neck, sucking and nibbling the skin on your neck. Your fingers scratched the hair on the back of his neck, tugging lightly as pleasure coursed through you.

 “God, I can feel you tightening around me,” he growled. “Fuck.”

 His words only egged you on. You were growing closer and closer with every movement of his cock dragging along your walls. You pushed against him, rolling him over onto his back with his cock still inside you. His hands instantly gripped your hips, his eyes wracking over your body in front of him. To make it even worse, his tongue flicked over his bottom lip, wetting it before he pulled it between his teeth. You let out a moan and began to move on his length with a teasingly slow pace. You watched as his eyes closed and his neck arched back. His mouth opened slightly as his breathing picked up. The look on his face was downright sinful and it went straight to your core.

 “Fucking hell,” he groaned, almost inaudibly. His grip tightened on your hips, tight enough that there would be a bruise or two come tomorrow. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers digging into his flesh as you bounced up and down his thick length.

 “God, Dean, I’m close,” you trembled.

 “Me too, baby.”

 Dean wrapped his arms around you, inching you forward until your chest pressed against him. You kissed him hard and fast, running out of air quickly. He began to thrust up into you and you cried out. Fuck, did this man know just how to pleasure you. His cock slammed into your sweet spot every time he thrusted up at his fast pace. You ground down on him, trying to meet his thrusts but you couldn’t. It was still the perfect angle for your clit to rub against his pelvic bone.

 “Oh my god, Dean. FUCK!” you quaked.

 “That’s it, come for me sweetheart, come around me,” he strangled out.

 Your fingers dug into his flesh, making crescent shaped moons on his skin. Your walls fluttered around him. Pleasure surged through your body as you cried out his name in his neck. You clung onto him, needing something to hold onto as your orgasm ripped through you. Dean fucked you through it, his pace never wavering until his own bliss took over. His hips bucked up into yours, his cum spilling deep inside you. He came with a strangled moan, as if he was holding back. God, was it the sexiest sound you had ever heard.

 You lay there on top of him, your body limp from your orgasm and content with your surroundings. You could feel Dean’s heartbeat beneath you. His fingers traced over your skin in a calming motion. When you had finally calmed down, you pressed soft kisses along his neck and jaw, relishing in the closeness between the two of you. This is what you wanted after all.

 He shifted underneath you, gripping you tightly as he rolled out over. He pulled his soft cock out of you and rested next to you. His hand rested on your hip and his eyes locked with yours.

 “You okay?” he whispered.

 “Yeah,” you breathed out. “‘M perfect.”

 “Sorry if I was a little rough-”

 “You don’t have to apologize for anything. That was perfect to me,” you assured him. “Although, I’m kinda worried that Sam heard that entire thing.”

 “I don’t care. He’ll put two and two together the second he see’s us. He’s no idiot,” Dean chuckled. “I feel the same, okay? Don’t be worried that I don’t feel the same way. I’m just not sure I’m ready to.”

 “And you don’t need to. Actions speak louder than words, Winchester,” you stated. “You make a pretty sexy nurse if I do say so myself.”

 “Oh shut up!”

Feedback is what keeps me posting. Please tell me what you think here!

if you no longer want to be tagged, please let me know! 

If I no longer hear from you, you will be removed.

Dean Girls:

@karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @gunsandimpalas @winchestdiaries @docharleythegeekqueen @highonpastries @torn-and-frayed @that1seniorchick @autopistaaningunaparte @emoryhemsworth @sis-tafics @your-used-to-be-pillow @jayankles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @ams-2004 @silver-and-green @its-not-a-tulpa  @michirutenshi @winchester-writes @ourutopianparadise @naadestiel @mariahoedt @band-and-sadness @bringmesomepie56 @emilywritesaboutdean @extreme-supernatural-lover @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @ruprecht0420 @ohmystars30 @percywinchester27 @captainemwinchester @lbyers28 @sandlee44 @blu-eyed-devil @tinemarie19 @skybinx-blog @babydanixox @summer-binging-spn @spn-fan-girl-173 @mein1928 @crawegirl @jensenackesl @4401lnc @iwantthedean @salvachester @sleep-silent-angel @secretlyfurrydragon @superwholock1983 @tas898 @erule  @milkymilky-cocopuff @essie1876 @abbessolute @riversong-sam @avengingthesupernatural @kathaswings @mayasmedberg @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @evansrogerskitten @brooke-supernatural16 @my-thoughts-on-display3 @wellcrazythis @dustycelt @lipstickandwhiskey @adaliamalfoy @awesomestperson22 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @xfanqirlinq @im-a-light-child @darknessbetweenthestarssn @laurenisnot

@wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @idontknow-canyou @feelmyroarrrr @capsofwinchesters @nakedshowerdean @missdestiel67 @thereisnolumos @plaidstiel-wormstache @danradislife @akshi8278 @keenondean @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @thisishowieroll  @devilgirlsarah @juliaspnlover @gallifreyansass @quiddy-writes @anokhi07 @cobrakai1967 @unknownartwork @twilightsagafan12 @keepcalmandbeajunkie @dslocum89 @i-just-wanna-live-gc  @maddieburcham1 @moonlessnight14 @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @padamoosemakegirlmoosegowhaaa @heavymetalhauswife @imagefanfictionlover @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @siriustopsremus @iamnotsaneatall @mizzzpink @jensen-jarpad @daughterleftbehind @shamelesslydean @sam-deans-baby @winchasterdean @wwecrazed2010 @letsgetyourdeanon @redeyed-winchester @meeshw777 @bethanyzed @pizza-boy-cas @michellethetvaddict @mamaredd123 @llerret15 @siriustopsremus @love-me-some-pie21 @mysterious398 @celmiea @j2-winchester-boys @boxywrites @savvythedork @endlesslytimeless @wishedworld @mariairwin666 @chicagolove88 @mrswhozeewhatsis

[mqteo]

what up, im honey, im 21, and i never fucking learned how to read–– just kidding! i wish i could say im usually funnier than this, but honestly a good 85% of my daily conversations are just vine quotes, so. what you see is, sadly, what you get. anyway my timezone is gmt +8 which means i will probably be around at weird hours but i’ll make this work... somehow... aNYWAY, y’all are here for mateo, not for me so lemme just get on with it asldhfkl

WAIT, IS THAT FROY GUTIERREZ WALKING THE STREETS OF ROME ? OH, THAT’S JUST MATEO ÁLVAREZ QUINTANA, THE TWENTY YEAR OLD WHO’S KNOWN AROUND ROME AS THE MOUNTEBANK ! I’VE HEARD THAT THEY’RE FROM MADRID, SPAIN AND SPEND THEIR TIME WRITING AND RECORDING MUSIC IN THEIR APARTMENT. I WONDER HOW THEY LIVE UP TO THEIR EPITHET ? 

BACKSTORY:

nicolas quintana and moira álvarez met and fell in love in cancun. nicolas had been there on vacation, but by the time he returned to spain, he had a wife and a baby on the way with him.

for all the talk about how nicolas and moira were young and crazy (read: stupid) in love, they were happy together, and mateo was proof of that love.

he had a fairly normal childhood, and when he was a little older, nicolas and moira had a second baby. they let mateo name her, and from the moment he first set eyes on her, mateo knew that he would love baby nina with all of his heart.

when mateo was 12, nicolas was diagnosed with stomach cancer. the cancer had been detected early, his prospects were good. or at least, that’s what they had been told. but nicolas’ cancer was especially aggressive, and after 2 years of treatments that never quite worked, nicolas passed away.

it was devastating, the worst thing to ever happen to their happy little family. but moira didn’t have time to grieve for her husband. she had two young children to look after, and the cancer treatments had left them swaddled with debt.

money was stretched thin. moira juggled several jobs, and mateo took up part-time jobs. time and time again, mateo offered to quit school so that he could work full-time, but moira was determined to give both her children the education she never got.

mateo knew that medical school was expensive, and as much as he loved his mother, he knew that she would not be able to put both him and nina through school. so he made a decision. 

mateo, once a straight A student, started acting out in school. he stopped handing in his assignments, started picking fights instead. after a particularly nasty one that involved mateo trying to take on the entire football team, he was expelled. it broke poor moira’s heart, but mateo refused to let his mother work herself to death and if this was what it took for him to be able to relieve some of the financial burdens then he’d grit his teeth and shoulder the disappointment.

he went through a couple of low paying jobs, but eventually landed one with a catering company that had decent pay, even if the working hours were absolute shit. it was at one of the events he catered at that he met paloma. 

paloma was a lovely older woman –– in retrospect, she couldn’t have been much older than early thirties, but mateo was younger then, too. she easily had at the very least a decade on him. it had been a wedding reception, and paloma had sat alone at the bar for most of it. despite the presence of a bartender right in front of her, she kept calling mateo over whenever he worked the room with a tray of champagne.

at first mateo didn’t think much of it, but when she slipped him a hundred euros in tip halfway through the night, it gave mateo an idea. he started paying a bit more attention to her, worked his charm a little more, and before the end of the night, he slipped his number into her purse.

and that’s what he’s been doing ever since. at first he’d use his catering job as a front to pick up lonely rich women (and men), but eventually he’d gotten enough money out of his marks that he didn’t need the catering job anymore.

moira found out about what mateo was doing when one particularly generous man paid off the family’s medical debts in full. she wasn’t happy about it, because she wanted more for mateo, but for the first time in years they were living comfortably, and mateo assured her that even if it sucked that he had to do it, it was still his choice, and that he just wanted to provide a better life for her too.

mateo moved to rome a little over a year ago, after meeting bella, a lovely italian woman who preferred his company to her busy ceo husband’s. even though that relationship ended, mateo chose to stay in rome indefinitely.

PERSONALITY:

mateo is… confusing, to say the least. he’s not exactly mean or anything, but he’s never really nice either. he’s always been good with people, and he makes use of that social skill to adjust his personality to suit whoever it is that he’s with so that they’ll like him.

even before their financial status became really dire, they weren’t exactly super well-off, so he’s always been pretty money-minded. his only loyalty is to himself and his family.

he’s a mama’s boy through and through, and he’s unashamed of it?? also the best big brother ever, like, half the time when his sugar daddies/mommies ask him what he wants he’s just like “can i get _____ for my sister” (the other half of the time he’s requesting stuff for his mother tbh)

but as much as he loves his mother and sister, don’t ever for a second mistake mateo for someone soft. mateo looks like an angel, and often acts like one to get what he wants, but he’s quite far from actually being angelic.

basically, he evaluates people based on their usefulness to him, and if they can’t offer him anything, they’re not worth his time/effort. but he’d never go out of his way to antagonise anyone, just in case he might need something from them later down the line.

he enjoys making music, and he’s surprisingly good at it. he spent so much of his formative teen years busting his ass off to make ends meet that he never really had time to explore hobbies, or learn how to deal with feelings. writing and recording music is pretty much the only outlet for his feelings. he has a couple of songs that he’ll let people listen to if they ask, but most of his songs are super personal, and he’d literally die before letting anyone else listen to them.

but the bottom line that mateo is just a really chill dude, who’s almost always down to do anything. he is That Friend™ you can call at 3am to invite on an impromptu road trip and he’d probably be ready in fifteen minutes.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

this is a cop out i’m sorry asldhfl but it’s late and im tIRED and i cant think of any good ones besides the super generic ones, but im leaving this section here in case i wake up inspired in the morning. but im just gonna put out there and i’m, like mateo, almost always down for anything. if there’s any wanted connection you have that you think mateo could fill, just lemme know!!

ok if you made it till the end,,, congratulations and ily. i’m tired as heck so i’m probs gonna go to sleep (i.e. lie in bed and reply to any messages to plot until i pass out from sheer exhaustion) but pls like the post if you want me to hit you up!! or if you’re feeling particularly inspired, plsplspls hit me up, either on the IMs here or on discord it doesnt matter to me. i’m excited!!

[ofcosima]

✗ ┈ oh my gosh, no way that DUA LIPA just walked passed us ! what ? no, that was definitely SORCHA KRAVITZ.  you know, the NINETEEN year old SENIOR at MBHS. SHE has the rep as being the ACTIVIST and it makes a lot of sense. anyone who is FERVID & ALLOCENTRIC, but also TURBULENT & FICKLE deserves that title. for senior superlatives they won MOST LIKELY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD and captioned the song LINK IN BIO - DIET CIG under their yearbook photo. hopefully their dreams to TRAVEL THE WORLD come true after graduation and it’s a good last year in MOON BAY !

hi henlo world !! i’m so fuckin’ pumped to be here ?? kisses & hugs to our lovely admin for bein the goat !! okay so,,, i’m actually not here ?? 1 pm est, and im probably working on my introduction to drama final on monday,, but anyway ! i’ll be here in 1 hour or so,, and smother y’all with my dms ok ? lets move to my precious baby,  sorcha !!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *matthew mcconaughey voice* alright alright alright !! i’m gonna try to keep this short,, but i can feel the word vomit,, its so close... u all gonna choke im sorry thats disgusting anyway lmao. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ staying tru to leo baby dua’s origins, kravitz family moved from kosovo to moonbay when sorcha was five. she’s part kosovan, british and irish !! thing about the kravitz’s that they were so typical. like...,, mom quitting work to raise sorcha, dad @ work from 9 am to 5 pm. everything was simple. a smol house, a few toys to play with,, a wii as a new years present ?? honestly , sorcha never minded the apparent differences of income between her peers & her ! she loved how,, real it felt? they had game nights on every thursday, and movie nights on monday to blow off some steam ! she didn’t even hear one single argument ,, except when mom became too invested in monopoly & accused dad of stealing from the bank, like,  each time they played lmao. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ they never talked much about dad’s work, or what mom did before they left kosovo. the past was a locked box,, and sorcha didn’t mind it ?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ growing up, she was a hard one to contain. she would throw awful, awful tantrums,, but then feel extremely sorry ?? like she would be this terrible kid, then cry for ten hours straight in her bed because she made people upset. she would leave smol notes on moms bed,, like never actually apologising, but always showing how much she felt bad ?? a real tempest tbh. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ had the potential to be the best, but never tried ?? mom ( rina ) ‘s attempts on pushing her to be more competitive always fell short,, sorcha saying she didn’t want her friends to feel bad for losing ?? wtf you lil puppy ?? 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ she was ( still is, but now on different topics ) extremely vocal ?? like to the age of ten,, if she didn’t like something......,, you would know that. if she had a crush on you,, you would know,, because she would tell exactly that ? teacher being a nasty prick ? ? sorcha, ,, thrownin hands,, directly discussin’ the matter like she was a fucking thirty year old lmao.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ around fourteen, mom started workin again, along side papa !! tbh sorcha lo v e d havin the house to herself, because now both mom & dad were working late ,, the rebellious side had no one to restrict her,, yasss bish. she usually spent nights watching criminal minds , law & order : svu , ncis ,, or talking to strangers on platforms like tumblr & twitter. she thinks she grew up mentally a lot during this time, because she got to hear stories of ppl she doesn’t even really know ?? and she got v invested too. a caring babe. always focused on others,, she would occasionally have her friends over , and attend every party moonbay offered. ya gurl lo v e s parties ok

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ so fifteen was hella differen t ?? mainly because.....,, they moved to a huge ass mansion, ,closer to the beach. everything felt so freaking surreal ?? kravitz’s hired a help for the house, got a brand new car for sorcha,, basically made $$$ rain down on her. hella suspicious. so she started to get v passive aggressive toward mom mama and papa ?? snarky comments here and there,, refusing to participate in family activities,, heading out when dad strictly forbids her ?? a tru rebel with a halfass cause.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ this whole emo™ phase gave birth to her label, the activist !! like i mentioned,, she never had any trouble with expressing her opinions,, playin the devils advocate,, this time,,, she gradually started to take it more seriously ?? like as she became less and less interested in mom and dads secret money fountain,, sorcha found herself in problems bigger than her own !! only obstacle was,,, again,, herself

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ her fickle nature never allowed herself to be stay tru 2 one cause, , always finding something brand new to fight for. she had so much on her mind 100 % of the time, and she didn’t know how to silence the voices ?? often failing to express her intense feelings,,  her turbulent side created chaos ,, being sent to the principles office more than twice,, thus she started playing football to channel her inner rage but ooppss, it doesnt work lmao.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ so eighteen,, and she basically accidentally discovered the secret ?? turns out mom & dad used to work for a corrupt ceo back in hometown, and now doing something similar to money laundering for him. ngl this was the last straw for her. like. she is trying to be a decent human being,, make a change? ? run for presidency ?? save the whales ?? smash the patriarchy  ?? and this is her family ? ?this is why she has a chanel bag ? ? u gotta be kidding me

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ SO. i wanna add that she has never had a boy / girl friend, my bi bunny is too invested in the negativity that she just... never tried ?? like,, she is pretty, and she knows she is,, but no one made a move on her. probably because she was super committed in being everyones friend ?? you have a problem ?? come 2 sorcha,, she gonna be the shoulder u can cry on. she has a problem ?? gonna avoid it until it snowballs,,, on relationships shes like whatevers dude im c hill™ and is actually content with it because means she won’t face rejection or betrayal ever :)) but lowkey not content but no one will know bc i lov bottling up !!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ kinda life of the party ?? but also studious? ? she knows she needs good grades to make her dreams come tru, but also cant bite her freakin tongue and stop from gettin in trouble. stfu sorcha. i need her partner in crime,, because this ho is always,, in t r o u ble

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ daddy raised no bitch :) a fuqing tough cookie :)) if u mess with her friends,, you gonna catch these hands,, real hard

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ooks like she has everything under control,, in reality,, heres a list of them :

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ actually, , ,people may think she doesn’t care at all ? ?except for like,, feminism,, animals,,  , like she has it so good that she doesnt even need to try anymore lmfao no..... baby is a ball of anxiety ,,, died a lil when people chose her for “most likely to take over the world” ,, like... ,, pls dont

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ anyway. she is planning on taking a gap year after graduation because honestly,, she needs a break ok.

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (back!) to A Cup-pella, AJ! We’re excited to have you and Roisin Flanagan in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: AJ + She/Her Age: 19 Timezone: EST Ships: /Chemistry Anti-Ships: /Forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Roisin Eleanor Flanagan Face Claim: Madelaine Petsch Age/Birthday: 24/August 12th, 1993 Personality: Loyal, Determined, Honest, Uncoordinated, Disorganized, Indecisive Hometown: Orlando, Florida Bio: Julie Flanagan née Johnson met Liam Flanagan in 1990 while she was doing a tour in South Korea and he was on a mission trip from Ireland. Their story begins like many others; lust at first sight. It was difficult for them at first because of Julie’s career and Liam’s religion, but their lust was strong and eventually grew and became love. Although they spent many months apart due to the nature of Julie’s job, they eventually got married and had a beautiful baby girl that they named Roisin.

Roisin Eleanor Flanagan was a baby like no other (that’s what the Flanagans liked to believe anyway), with her fiery red hair and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts, Roisin was their pride and joy. Because of that, they decided that instead of traveling around with her mother whose job held little guarantees and even less stability, Roisin was raised by her grandmother and her father in Derry, Northern Ireland. Whenever her mother was able she would take leave and fly Roisin out to the States to visit, but her mom was deployed more often than not due to her job within the army.

Roisin felt loved beyond anything in the world, but that didn’t stop her from wanting her mother in her life a little more often than she had her. Her dad was basically her best friend; he just wasn’t a replacement for that maternal influence that she could have if they would travel with her mother. She wouldn’t have minded being a military brat; kids did it all the time and they turned out just fine. As many times as she tried to convince both of her parents of that fact, they were hard pressed on giving Roisin the stability that military life couldn’t provide.

She wanted nothing more than to go to the states long term so when freshman year of high school rolled around and she had the opportunity to stay with a family in the United States and go to school, she begged her father to let her go. He wasn’t convinced at first, but Roisin kept pushing and he eventually relented. Her father didn’t have the green card that was necessary for him to make a life in the states even though Roisin was born as a dual citizen to both countries so their alternative was the school exchange program.

Her first year as a resident in the United States was rough. As a fourteen year old with a heavy accent, she got bullied more often than not. Although she had visited the United States a multitude of times before the program, there were things that she just hadn’t caught onto. It made her an easy target for kids that had nothing better to do than to pick on the little foreign girl with the funny accent. It was those bullies that made Roisin want to lose the accent and become more familiar with American traditions rather than Irish ones.

Unfortunately the exchange program was only good for a year and despite her dual citizenship, she was still only fifteen years old. Her father had a good job in Ireland and her mother was busy all the time. It wasn’t an ideal situation for Roisin, but she didn’t want to go back. Despite her unwillingness to go back home, she was in no position to make decisions for herself so she went back to Ireland with a heavy heart and a determined mind.

When she turned sixteen, she sat her father down and did everything she could to convince him to allow her to stay in Florida with her maternal grandparents. As with the exchange program, Liam wasn’t initially convinced, but a few choices points and a couple of willing grandparents eventually changed his mind. With a promise to get to America as soon as he could and to communicate with her every day, Roisin was off.

Roisin eventually lost her accent and became more familiar with American holidays and traditions. If anyone asks she’ll tell them she’s from Ireland, but she’s always been an American girl at heart. It’s this ideology that made her want to move to the Big Apple after she got her degree in Elementary Education at the University of Central Florida. New York is expensive especially for someone straight out of college, but she found a few good roommates and a good job that’s kept her head above water since she was twenty-one.

Although she doesn’t have the easy charm with the kids that Fiona has, she loves her job more anything. She loves feeling like she’s molding the future leaders of America. When she’s not teaching or pretending like she’s more into the Warblette/PL rivalry than she actually is, she’s at ACup or at the gym. When she has the cash, she visits her dad in Ireland. Their relationship isn’t the same as when she was living with him, but they still talk whenever her schedule allows. As far as her mom goes, she talks to her occasionally, but their relationship is strained. She’s tired of feeling like she’s making more of an effort than her mom. The calls are few and far between and she usually hears about what her mom is up to through her dad. It’s not ideal, but that’s just the way the chips fell.

EXTRA INFO

twitter name: ROW-SHEEN twitter url: @acuppellaroisin description: roisin not raisin. 24. probably teaching the future president of the United States. Catch me @ a-cup-pella kicking ass with the Warblettes.

Five latest tweets:

@acuppellaroisin: just ate so many Oreos. Time to do some serious cardio to counter all the sugar i just ate. #Ihatecardio @acuppellaroisin: to whoever thought singing and dancing at the same time was a good idea: hate is a strong word but i really really really don’t like you @acuppellaroisin: i feel bad for not liking raisins. i blame all the kids that used them to tease me when i was younger @acuppellaroisin: i love love but i also love nice things @acuppellaroisin: i feel like i cheated on acup with Starbucks, but i also got a cute girl’s number so… #sorrynotsorry

[queen-ishura]

My friend and I made a short video for our final project and spent all of yesterday filming it and like fifteen hours straight editing it until six in the morning so I know it’s not your cup of tea and you don’t have to watch but I just want to put this out there because so much effort was put into it and it deserves to be seen for my friend’s effort if not mine

only watch if you want to see uncomfortable close-ups of my face 

captions:  

julia and i spent the past two days in labor birthing this lovechild pls give it a watch we hope it makes you think we hope it makes you feel we hope it is as transient for u as it was for us.

please enjoy this gratuitous intellectual masturbation - we hope it makes you think

[sufferthesea]

Goldie’s Patience

Chapter 7 of Leather and Lace 

Words: 2.4114  Pairings/Warnings/Rating: Remus x OC, Sirius x OC / Bullying, abelism / Teen  Part 1 | Previous | AO3 | FFN 

The next day, Wednesday, the sun rose and Goldie did the same along with the other two girls in her dorm room – the one bed laid empty as Catlin was still in the hospital wing. The bed was still unmade as she had rushed her friend to the hospital wing and she hadn't thought about tidying up for her. But she thought maybe it would be nice to clean up a bit for when she returned from the hospital wing.

Her Potions class didn't start for a while, so she made Catlin's bed, folded the extra quilt neatly and laid it across the foot of the bed, straightened a few of the books that had fallen over in the bookshelf beside the bed, pulled back the yellow curtains around the bed, and pushed back one of the potted plants that had somehow gotten too close to the edge of a shelf. Goldie half suspected that the plant moved when nobody was looking, and it kind of unsettled her. She knew her friend was always muttering, “Plants are alive too, they deserve to be treated just as kindly as any beast or animal”, but Goldie hadn't realized that when Cat said “alive” she meant “sentient”.

Deciding it was good enough, and that she didn't really want to be around a plant that moved on its own any longer than she needed to be, she headed to her Potions class, textbook and parchment in hand.

Goldie managed to hold her tongue throughout class, and took a moment to flip past the required reading to a part of the textbook they hadn't gotten to yet. Polyjuice Potion. She was quite curious how long it actually took to make, and what went into it. It's difficulty level was Advanced, and it needed one month to brew – so Sirius wasn't lying when he said Evelyn needed to start right away.

Her stomach churned when she looked over the ingredients and realized that Evelyn would have to drink it. Lacewing flies, Boomslang skin, leeches … not to mention the bit of the person they wanted to turn into. Granted, Evelyn ate a lot of questionable things – usually seafood like dried squid, raw tuna, eel, and octopus tentacles – but she knew for a fact that nobody could stomach a thick, bubbling, fermented stew of leeches and snakeskin.

Quickly flipping back to the assigned reading, Goldie tried to concentrate on the potion they were studying, but it was hard. There were so many things on her mind, and even after reading the same line three times in a row, she still didn't comprehend what it was she was reading. She looked around the room at the other students. They were skimming easily through the text and returning to their cauldrons, discussing measurements and mixtures.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack, an explosion, and the entire room filled with thick, white smoke that smelled like burnt peaches and pine wood. Slughorn went running towards the table where three students had been knocked to the floor, their hair sticking straight up, their faces and clothes covered in thick, dark orange liquid, and the hem of one's robe was on fire.

“Not like that!” he shouted, waving his arms around. “Not yet! You aren't supposed to make anything yet! We haven't finished reading how to brew it!” He stomped on the end of a boy's robe, putting out the fire, and helped him stand. The other two students helped each other up and tried to brush off the orange slime, but it had solidified into some type of tacky, elastic mass that was a bit like a facial peel. They started to freak out, clawing at the thick layer of goo, realizing it took a lot of effort to pull it off. Slughorn was trying to comfort the three while keeping the rest of the class calm. There were a handful of kids who were trying their hardest not to laugh, as they weren't sure whether the orange mud was deadly or not.

Fifteen minutes of peeling the tacky substance off of the students' faces later, Slughorn was back up front, sweat beading his forehead, and his shirt covered in remnants of whatever it was those kids had created in their cauldrons. Exhausted, he cleared his throat, wrung his hands, and said simply, “We're just going to do some more reading for the rest of class. Please … don't touch your cauldrons, and don't – don't – mix anything. Please.”

The rest of the day passed without incident. Evelyn soared through her classes, met with Goldie before and after lunch, spent her free time strolling around the castle grounds until her final class started, then met again with Goldie after dinner. They had little information to exchange, and had not met with the four boys that day. Both of them were too exhausted to sneak into the hospital wing, so they sat in the grass outside for an hour, enjoying the cool evening, before returning to their Houses and going to bed.

Thursday, the 24th, was a bit more exciting. Goldie didn't even mind that she had to write an essay for her History of Magic class because something truly amazing happened. Something totally unexpected, and a bit surprising.

Bernice had decided that she didn't like Goldie at all. Not a single ounce. Which meant that Bernice's friends didn't like her either. Every time Goldie was called on to answer a question, Bernice made a very loud, very rude comment. Her friends would laugh obnoxiously, disrupting the class. Professor Uggeri looked very tired and very annoyed, but no matter what he did, the girls would not stop.

Sometimes Uggeri wouldn't even ask a question and Bernice would immediately start screaming how stupid Goldie was, and how she was an awful student because, “You know, she suffers from that disease! She's got HD-DD.”

Goldie turned around, “It's ADHD – and I can function fine with it. You just won't give me the chance to say anything before you butt in with your big mouth.”

Bernice balled her hands into fists and glared at the curly-haired girl ahead of her. “You think you know so much, huh? You’re just as dumb as I said!”

“Yeah,” Goldie replied, annoyed, “I think I do know more about what 'diseases' I live with than you do.”

Uggeri held up his long, thin hands to hush the girls before things got ugly. “Please,” he said calmly, “it's not a day for fighting. We are all students here, and we are all trying to learn. Some of us have obstacles we must overcome in order to learn the material, but that doesn't mean we're bad at it. We must find our limitations, accept them, learn from them, overcome them, and continue on to the next level of education. If you are constantly beating down your fellow classmates, all of us will struggle on our way to higher learning. You should be encouraging each other to do well and to face our difficulties with enthusiasm, because we know that we have people behind us, willing to help.”

“I’m not standing behind her!” Bernice shouted, jumping to her feet and slamming her palms on her desk. “And I’m not helping her to achieve no goals she’s got! She’s the one with the limitations, not me!”

Uggeri sighed, returned to his desk, sat down, and put his head into his hands.

“I’m not stupid!” Bernice said, pointing at Goldie. “And don’t you try to prove I am!”

Suddenly, Jake turned around in his seat, locked eyes with Bernice and very quietly but very sternly said, “Sit down, please,” (it wasn't a request). “You really don't know what you're talking about. You aren't the one who has to live with ADHD and you certainly aren't well enough educated on it to make a statement about it. Goldie is doing the best she can in this class, but you just give her a lot of grief for no reason. You're disrupting the class, making it hard for other students to learn, and you're wasting our time. No one is calling you stupid, but we may be calling you inconsiderate, lazy, and rude. Goldie has overcome a lot to maintain her grades and to pass this class. You, on the other hand, have done everything it takes to fail. You barely show up, you don't do homework, your class participation leaves much to be desired, and you're an extremely rude and unpleasant person when you're being mean. You aren't stupid, Bernice. But you're making it hard to want to be your friend.”

The young blonde was red in the face, a mix of embarrassment and anger. She looked at Goldie then back at Jake, her eyes blinking rapidly as tears started to form. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked and her lips trembled violently.

Finally she pressed her lips together and quietly asked, “M-May I pl-please be excused?”

Uggeri nodded and Bernice rushed out of the room, her hands pressed hard against her face. Jake turned to Goldie who was conflicted. She had this strange mix of guilt, joy, and peace inside her chest that sunk down into her stomach. She didn't want Bernice to cry, although she was pretty sure Bernice had made several other students cry before. Goldie couldn't tell if this was a case of just desserts, karma, or bullying.

The rest of class passed by a bit uneventful, but afterward Uggeri called Jake and Goldie to stay. Nervous about what he could possibly want, Goldie tugged at her robes and picked at her nails. Jake seemed composed and not totally freaked out at the possibility of detention. Of course, he may have been upset on the inside – he was really hard to read. It was one of the very few frustrating things about him; Goldie could never tell just what he was thinking or feeling. Expect, of course, when he spoke his mind – which didn't seem to be that often.

After the rest of the students had filed out of the room, Uggeri turned his attention to the two students. He towered over them, looking more like a thin, white tree trunk than a human being. His sharp features were intimidating and his eyes bored deeply into Goldie, and for a moment she wondered if he had the power of Legilimency.

“Bernice is fine,” he said, and Goldie was now certain he did have mind-reading abilities. “She went out and had a good cry, but she's fine now.”

“I didn't mean for her to cry,” Goldie exclaimed, as if she were the one who had caused all this. “And neither did Jake,” she added, just to cover her bases.

“I know that. She is a very difficult student, and she is struggling with learning disabilities of her own. She doesn't like to ask for help, so she hasn't gotten any help with her classes. It doesn't help that the people she hangs out with discourage seeking help and doing well in school. That's why I would like it if you two would be willing to include her with any study sessions you have, and maybe … try to befriend her.”

This conversation was definitely going in a far different direction than Goldie and Jake were expecting. They exchanged glances then turned back to Uggeri.

“So … you want us to tutor her ...” Goldie started.

Jake finished, “And be her friend?”

“Yes. If that's possible. You two are planning to study this Saturday, yes?”

Goldie blushed, “Y-Yes.”

“If you could include her then, that would be wonderful. And just … she may say no, but keep asking her until she says yes. She really needs somebody to help her – and not just in this class.”

“Of course,” Jake said, taking over the conversation when he noticed Goldie's conflicted feelings were on her face. “We would be glad to. We don't want her to fail – and we don't want her to be friendless.”

“Thank you,” Uggeri said genuinely.

He dismissed the two and they stepped out into the hall. Goldie looked at Jake, both amazed and confused. He gave her another small smile, but her heart didn't skip a beat this time.

“Why did you defend me?” she asked as they strolled down the stone hallway. “You didn't have to … You could've gotten in trouble.”

“She didn't know what she was talking about,” he said quietly. “I didn't want her talking like that about you … or anyone else. And she really is an unpleasant person most of the time. But I guess she has more going on than either of us knew.” He shrugged and stuck his hands into his pockets. “Maybe she'll get the help she needs, and maybe she won't be so horrible if she has some decent friends.”

“Yeah … maybe.”

They got to the end of the hall, where they were headed in different directions. Jake turned to look at Goldie.

“I know your friend is in the hospital wing. But I heard she's doing alright. If you want, you can go see her on Saturday and I'll just meet with Bernice.”

“No,” she said quickly. “That's fine! She really is doing well. Besides, Madam Pomfrey won't let anyone in to see her – so I'd be happy to meet you on Saturday. Er, you and Bernice … I'm sure we'll need each other to get through that study session.”

Jake gave a half-smile, his lips pulling up in one corner to reveal just the slightest glimpse of white teeth. A soft laugh escaped and he nodded, holding out one hand. “It's a date then.”

Goldie instinctively shoved out her hand, took his and shook it, and said, “Y-Yes! It's a date!”

“Good. I would've been disappointed if you decided to cancel. I'll see you on Saturday, then.”

“Yes – you will!”

Jake turned and strolled down the hallway, as cool as could be. Goldie watched after him, feeling her face and chest burn red. She didn't know how Jake was so cool, but he was. It was like he didn't even have to try; he just existed and everything fell into place around him. Grinning like a fool in love, she turned on her heels, pressed the heels of her palms to her face to keep from squealing in excitement, and ran down the hall in the opposite direction. She definitely had to sneak into the hospital wing and tell Catlin about this.

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (17) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey angels! thank u for ur patience, here is yet another chapter of the hellscape that is n19f. as i said on my blog, u will either love this chapter or hate it. either way let me know what u think!! this is a big chunky one at 13k (ik i’m treating u during this quarantine) so grab ur snacks and settle in. lots of love, byeee!

trigger warning: a little light drinking xo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Scarlet celebrated her birthday by helping Nina win back Monet, a surprise party organised by her girlfriend, and a suspiciously civil Brooke and Vanjie.

this chapter: from one birthday to another, the gang heads out to the country to celebrate Brooke and Akeria’s 22nd. everyone seems back on good terms, but will the combination of hide and seek, truth or dare, a hot tub and of course a lil bit of alcohol change anything?

***

“Holiday!...da-da-da-dum-dum-daaa, Celebrate!”

Brooke rolled her eyes, unable to help herself laughing as Nina rolled her suitcase towards Monet’s car. “It’s hardly a holiday, is it, girl? Overnighter in an airbnb in the middle of buttfuck nowhere?”

“Listen, I’ll take what I can get, thank you very much,” Nina raised her eyebrows, as Monet lifted the door of the boot up and Nina heaved her case inside.

“Oh, what a compliment,” Monet quipped from beside her, Brooke making a sick noise as Nina slid her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and gave her a squeeze.

“Not with girlfriends, obviously. You’re a Tesco Finest girlfriend. Not a smartprice girlfriend,” Nina explained, Monet smiling proudly and nuzzling their noses together. Brooke already wanted to vomit and she wasn’t even car sick yet.

“Pack it in, bitches, or Monet’s uninvited,” she deadpanned, pushing herself off the wall she was currently leaning against and looking up at her bedroom window, ignoring the girls’ shouts of indignation. “Right, have you got everything, yeah?”

“Have you seen the size of this bitch’s suitcase? I think she has literally managed to pack your kitchen sink,” Monet cocked an eyebrow at Nina, who elbowed her in the ribs. Nina produced her phone from the pocket of her dungaree dress.

“Hey Google, can you divorce your girlfriend?” she asked into the speaker, Monet howling a laugh and shoving her.

“Seriously, guys, I haven’t packed enough anti-sickness tablets for this,” Brooke said dryly, making her way to the passenger door.

“Oh, are you planning on recreating the great rail replacement bus fiasco of ‘18?” came a voice, Brooke turning round and narrowing her eyes at her smug flatmate, emerging through the door with her girlfriend and a small holdall bag.

“I was sat hungover opposite the toilet on a three hour coach journey, what the hell else was I expected to do?” Brooke defended herself. Yvie sat down on the wall outside their building, Scarlet joining her.

“Hmm, all I’ll say, Monet, is that I hope you have at least three empty plastic bags in the back seat with her,” she advised smugly, Brooke wishing she was still leaning against the wall so she could shove her off it.

“When is Plastique coming for you guys? Can I arrange for you to be sitting in the middle of the road when she drives up it?”

“Hey, what the fuck did I say?!” Scarlet yelped, outraged.

“You’re a bystander, Scarlet, and a bystander is worse than a bully,” Nina remarked sagely, Monet nodding along in support.

“Besides, I’m allowed to bully Brooke. It’s part of the lease,” Yvie shrugged, fixing the huge round sunglasses that had been on the top of her head and positioning them so they were right at the bridge of her nose. The March sunshine was welcome; it made Brooke feel happy, optimistic of things to come. Even the small scrub of grass out the front of their stairwell had bright purple, yellow and white bulbs poking through it, bringing a defiant sense of beauty to their surroundings. Brooke had been so pleased with the weather when she’d opened her curtains that morning that she’d packed a bunch of clothes she usually reserved for the summer. It felt odd wearing her denim skirt without the black tights she’d clad herself in for the past three months, but it was a welcome feeling. Yvie hadn’t really seemed to get the Summery memo other than her sunglasses- a huge knitted jumper covered in holes hung off her skinny frame and a pair of thick exercise leggings kept her legs warm.

“You couldn’t spruce yourself up a bit for my birthday, bitch? I feel like any minute now you’re going to start dancing around the street moulting straw singing about how you desperately want a brain,” Brooke smirked, Yvie simpering a fake smile and giving her the finger in response.

“It’s only fifteen degrees, Brooke, it’s hardly time to crack out the Kopparberg and blast T Shirt Weather yet,” Scarlet laughed. It was a bit hypocritical, Brooke thought as she looked Scarlet’s outfit up and down- a floaty, lacey dress and a pair of white Adidas- but of course she would defend her girlfriend. It wasn’t actually fair, contemplated Brooke. Scarlet and Yvie would always team up, so would Monet and Nina. Brooke had to fight all her battles herself.

“Besides, your birthday is over! Move on, hoe,” Yvie smiled, running forward and shaking Brooke’s shoulders relentlessly as the other girls laughed uproariously in the background.  Brooke laughed and batted her away, knowing she was just joking. As she shoved her friend off of her, a familiar grey Audi drove up their street and pulled in behind Monet’s car. Plastique gave her horn a little beep, waving and rolling down her window.

“Let’s ride, bitches! I’m so ready for this weekend,” she squealed, as Yvie and Scarlet rushed to shove their bags in the boot of her car.

“I think I’ve been ready since we booked it,” Nina sighed, stretching. “Right, let’s go, girls! Dun-duun-da-na-na-dun dun.”

As Nina continued singing Shania Twain and hopped in the passenger seat of Monet’s car, Brooke passed by Plastique’s window and gave her hand a squeeze. “You know how to get there, yeah?”

“Up the motorway then off at junction 4 and then just follow all the signs for the B road. We good,” she nodded, then gave a laugh. “Kiki’ll probably end up in France somehow, you know what her sense of direction is like.”

“Yeah, but she’s got Silky and Vanj to direct her. She’ll be fine,” Brooke shrugged, thumping on Plastique’s door and making for the other car. “Right, see you ladies at the airbnb!”

Monet blasted her horn once, twice, three times as Brooke dashed into the back seat and buckled up. As Nina connected her phone to the aux cord and started blasting typically Nina-ish cheesy music, Brooke felt an excited little smile creep up on her face, slapping her hands against her thighs to the beat. The past almost-a-month had gone by quickly, and Brooke and Akeria’s shared birthday trip away had arrived before Brooke had known it. It had been booked on a whim, an excited message from Akeria on the group chat about a potential birthday night out had grown arms and legs until suddenly the girls were all transferring her money for a night in the country to jointly celebrate her and Brooke’s birthdays. They had turned 22 within ten days of each other, and the girls had all decided that the amount of money they would have spent on two big nights out- Ubers, big bottles of vodka for pres, club entry, club drinks and cheesy chips at the end of the night- probably equated to the same, if not more, than the amount they would drop on a boujie house in the country. The house they had booked was huge- five big bedrooms with floor to ceiling windows, a lounge straight out of a murder mystery drama with plush sofas, towering bookshelves and a massive roaring fire, a kitchen with a table big enough to fit them all round and an aga with what seemed to be a thousand burners- though whether anyone would know how to work the damn thing was anyone’s guess, Brooke thought with a snort. The icing on the cake of the whole place, though, was a huge section of outdoor decking with a hot tub set in the middle of it. To most of the girls it would be like living somebody else’s life for the weekend, but, Brooke thought mischievously, to Plastique it would probably seem the same as a weekend at home.

Brooke was glad they could all do something like this, go away together after what had happened. She didn’t really know what had happened to Vanessa to make her warm up to her so unexpectedly. It had all started when they were preparing for Scarlet’s birthday surprise; Brooke remembered how hard her heart had been beating that morning as she’d known it was the first time she’d be properly seeing Vanessa since they broke up, having to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans as the door to the kitchen had opened and Vanessa, Akeria and Silky had walked in. Akeria and Silky, to their credit, had been fine and normal with Brooke, despite the amount of dragging through the mud they had probably done to her name when they’d heard the news of her and Vanessa’s breakup. Vanessa, (understandably, thought Brooke) had hugged Yvie, Plastique and Nina, but not Brooke, the obviousness of the action lost in the frenetic melee of the girls seeing each other all at once. Brooke had preferred that, though. She wouldn’t have wanted the awkwardness of reminding herself how perfectly her arms seemed to fit around Vanessa, the brief scent of the Aussie shampoo she used in her hair, her head against her chest even for just the tiniest second.

After that, Vanessa had started with the digs. Brooke had thought she’d had malicious intent at first, until she got bored and decided to fire back.

(Yvie’s voice had yelled from the hallway. “Who’s made the cupcakes yet? Anyone?”

“Well if it’s Brooke, we all dyin’ tonight.”

“At least I can make something! How much do you drop on Deliveroo in a month, like, half your student loan?”)

With each verbal sparring match, Brooke had watched as the small, sardonic snorts Vanessa had given evolved into a full-blown beaming smile, the kind she always used to shoot Brooke’s way with the perfect white teeth and the tiny dimple and the little blush that hit her cheeks. It was almost painful knowing that Brooke had given up that smile. And that had been the moment. The moment that Brooke had finally admitted to herself what she’d been wanting to deny all this time- she deeply wished she hadn’t ended things with Vanessa, that she’d fought through the ick and given it at least more of a shot than she had. Now Vanessa had moved on and she was seeing someone else and she was happy. Happy without Brooke. Why had Brooke broken up with her so quickly?

She was an idiot.

“She was an idiot.”

Brooke snapped out of her trance, blinking and trying to figure out how Monet had managed to get inside her head. “What?”

“That woman. Blue car. Completely cut me off,” Monet rolled her eyes, frowning as she inched forward in the traffic until she was almost bumper to bumper with the car in question.

“Oh M'net, don’t start a fight,” Nina sighed, resting her knees against the glovebox.

“I’m not! I’m just letting a bitch know that her misconduct was noted,” Monet growled.

“Her misconduct was noted? God, you’re such a teacher,” Nina laughed, a big chuckle with loads of heart that made Brooke smile.

“Hey, so are you!”

“Stop fucking bickering or I will take your vocal cords and strangle you with them!” Brooke cried, tiring quickly. She watched Monet smirk in the rear view mirror.

“It’s alright, Neens. Just because Brooke’s jealous of happy couples and regrets breaking it off with Vanjie-”

“Wait what? I don’t…oh, Nina, for fuck’s sake! I told you not to tell anyone!” Brooke snapped, training accusatory eyes on her friend. After Scarlet’s birthday, she’d told Nina what she’d told Yvie, just in a little more detail, and she’d been more sympathetic than her other flatmate, making her tea and nodding understandingly as Brooke vented at her. Nina was usually good with secrets, a reliable and trustworthy friend. Brooke couldn’t understand why she would-

“Ahahaha!!! BITCH! You just totally exposed yourself! Oh my God!!” Monet screeched in time with her tyres, thumping her hand against the steering wheel. Brooke was confused, her heart still thudding. “Nina ain’t told me shit but I got eyes and ears, an’ I saw you two flirting at Scarlet’s. All damn day and night. You don’t act like that with someone you just broke up with.”  

“Yeah I’m afraid you just spilled your own secret, Brooke,” Nina deadpanned from the passenger seat, giving a little laugh.

“Shit,” Brooke sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Great. Well, you probably think I’m a total asshole, Monet.”

“Hey, I’m a very chill person! You do you, girl. You wanna get with Vanessa for 3 months, break up with her for one and then get back with her again, that’s no business of mine,” Monet shrugged, a twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, I know I made a mistake, thanks,” Brooke sighed, biting her lip as she let her thoughts wash over her. Monet had a unique angle on the whole situation. She lived with Monique, of course, and that whole thing was still going on between her and Vanessa, if a message Vanessa had accidentally sent to the group chat last week was anything to go by. Brooke had wondered for days on end whether it had actually been an accident or not, the content of the message sending her crazy with jealousy as it was essentially just Vanessa begging Monique to come round and fuck her into the mattress. She’d considered whether or not it could have been deliberate, but the absolute roasting Vanessa had received afterwards from the other girls couldn’t have been worth it if it had. Brooke considered asking Monet for some inside knowledge, decided against it, and then did a U-turn as she concluded that her pride and dignity were already bruised so she might as well go the whole hog and shatter them.

“So, uh…Vanessa’s still seeing Monique.”

Monet ran her tongue over her teeth. “She’s certainly round at the flat a lot.”

“So is that, uh…I mean, do you think that’s going to turn into anything more, or…?”

“I don’t know, girl, I don’t know if it’s my place to say.”

This is like pulling teeth. “Do you think they-”

“They’re having a lot of sex.”

“Monet!” Nina burst out in a shocked laugh.

“What?! They are!”

“Excellent!” Brooke exclaimed sarcastically, staring out the window as the city around them turned into fields and the houses turned into service stations.

“C’mon, Brooke, you have to admit you do kinda deserve this a lil’ bit,” Monet laughed, Brooke rolling her eyes from the back seat.

“Right, both of you shut up. I’m officially banning any conversations about pining or relationships until we get to the house. We sing, we eat snacks, occasionally we play I Spy. That’s it,” Nina scolded them, turning around in her seat and staring Brooke down. Brooke had never felt more like a disgraced teenager in her life.

“Ughhhh, fine, Mom,” Monet groaned, changing up into fifth as they hit the motorway, the weekend becoming more real and making Brooke tingle with excitement despite the news she hadn’t wanted to hear.

Just as Nina had ordered them, the three girls spent the rest of the journey singing at the top of their lungs to Vengaboys, B*Witched and Cascada, Brooke on crisp duty as she passed the cavernous bag of barbecue rib McCoys forward every five minutes or so, Monet making hurried grabs at crinkle cut crisps in between changing gears. Brooke managed to avoid the dreaded travel-sickness that had plagued her since she was about six years old, much to Monet and Nina’s delight. The sun didn’t let up, and it still hung proudly in the sky as the girls pulled up the leafy, tree-lined driveway to the house they’d booked, the branches hanging low and curling around each other signalling they hadn’t been cut in a while. Spying Akeria’s Corsa and Plastique’s Audi already parked, Monet pulled up alongside the huge white house, the little set of three stone chimneys on the roof puffing out smoke and letting the girls know that at least one room wouldn’t be too cold inside. As Monet neatened up her parking, the sound of Silky’s screeching cut through the crunching of wheels against gravel, and the rest of the girls spilled out of the front door shortly afterwards. As soon as the car had stopped, Brooke excitedly hopped out of the passenger seat, hugging any girl she could reach. Before she knew it, she’d found herself pulling out of a quick hug with Vanessa, and the two were in front of each other.

“Hey,” Brooke decided quickly to speak first, setting the tone so there wouldn’t be any awkward pauses.

“Hey! How was your ride? Get here okay?” Vanessa asked politely, tucking a strand of her caramel hair behind one ear. She was dressed in a tiny little cropped black jumper and some faded grey jeans, Brooke trying to ignore her mind reminding her of how right it felt to wrap her arms around Vanessa again, how tiny her waist was and how much she wished she could go back for another hug- for fuck’s sake, cut that shit out.

“Uh, yeah! It was fine. Traffic wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

Vanessa let out a laugh. “Shit was like Wacky Races. Akeria nearly rammed some old cunt off the road. I’ve never seen road rage like it, we genuinely feared for our lives. Or her license. Oh my God, this house is insane. C’mon, you need to see it!”

There was a split-second where Brooke felt Vanessa tug at her hand, which was quickly dropped as if the action had never happened. It was almost as if Vanessa had been on automatic pilot; the ease with which she used to slip her hand into Brooke’s hadn’t been forgotten by either of them. And then Brooke felt Plastique leap onto her back like a monkey, and the girl was excitedly chattering away to her, and the moment had passed.

Brooke barely had time to take in the huge cream-painted hall with the varnished cream stairs stretching practically up to the ceiling when Plastique steered her down two steps and into the kitchen, grey stone tiles making Brooke’s feet feel cold even through her trainers and the huge wooden table overflowing with assorted snacks. Akeria and Scarlet clung to the rail of the AGA, the two girls clearly feeling the cold in the chilly kitchen.

“Did any of us actually bring a meal between us or are we just going to live off of Twirl Bites and Classic Dip Selections?” Yvie wondered, picking up a four-pack of various dips. Brooke laughed.

“Hey, there’s pizzas in the fridge! Do y’all really think I would let you starve?” Silky piped up, opening the huge fridge to reveal at least ten pizzas, more than they would eat in one night.

“Nobody goes hungry in the presence of Silky Nutmeg Ganache,” Plastique smiled proudly, holding her fist out for Silky to punch. As the girls’ fists connected, Brooke watched as Vanessa scraped a wooden chair out against the stone floor.

“You girls wanna have a munch and then get wrecked?”

“Hmm, if we get drunk too early then there’s no way we’ll be able to work this oven,” Scarlet shrugged, biting her lip and frowning.

“Yeah, we’re gonna struggle to operate this sober,” Monet considered, opening up one of the oven doors and investigating.

“Well how about we snack and then play a game? I wanna play hide and seek in here,” Nina bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. Akeria snorted.

“Hide and seek, you’re such a child. But to be fair, that could be fun. Or sardines.”

“What’s that?” asked Brooke. “I don’t know if we had that but called it something else.”

“That one where one person hides and everyone else seeks,” Yvie explained. “It’s way better. Way more chaotic.”

“Sweet. I’m down,” Brooke shrugged. She was glad that all of the girls she was friends with were happy to dick about and play kids’ games for an afternoon, and it was the kind of thing she’d miss when she graduated and would have to find a job.

The girls were all feeling peckish after their long drive, though, so they all grabbed the nearest snacks they could and headed upstairs to the living room, where Akeria had managed to start the fire which was crackling warmly in the huge marble fireplace. They all dumped their food on the huge glass-topped coffee table and had a little explore around the house before they relaxed. There was a surplus of bedrooms, and it had been agreed that since they were celebrating Brooke and Akeria’s birthdays, the two girls should have a bedroom to themselves each. Brooke’s bedroom had a huge bay window out to the rear of the house where the fields stretched for miles, and an actual four-poster bed.

“I can’t help but feel like you guys should take this room and I should take yours,” Brooke said with a pang of guilt for Yvie and Scarlet, who had dumped their things in the room they were sharing and had come to investigate Brooke’s.

Scarlet made a noise of discouragement. “No, it’s fine! This’ll get cold anyway, it’s so big. Our room’s cosier.”

Brooke watched Scarlet share a smile with her girlfriend and wrap both of her arms around Yvie’s. “Yeah, honestly, Brooke, it’s fine. Scarlet would manage to bump her head and toe and Christ knows what else on all four of the posts anyway.”

Scarlet burst out into offended laughter, letting the girls know that she secretly agreed a little bit.

“How’re the others?” Brooke asked, peering down the little corridor with the exposed wooden beams and hearing chatter and Monet’s deep laughter coming from the other rooms.

“Plastique, Silk and Vanj are all in together. I think V drew the short straw so she’s on the sofa bed,” Scarlet gave a shrug.

“That’s unfortunate,” Yvie commented, raising her eyebrows at Brooke slightly.

“Behave,” Brooke smacked her, not appreciating the implication. Vanessa had only just become friends with her again. They were hardly going to spend the entire night going at it like rabbits just because Vanessa wasn’t looking at her like she wanted to kill her anymore. “Come on, lovebirds. I feel like I haven’t shovelled enough crisps down my throat today.”

The three girls made their way to the living room again, where Nina and Monet were draped over the sofa and snacking on some sort of jelly sweets. Gradually the other girls joined them in drips and drabs and they spent the time chatting and gossiping in their usual way- about anything and everything under the sun. Brooke kept finding her eyes being drawn to Vanessa. It wasn’t entirely her fault- she was sitting opposite her, and often Brooke would find her already looking her way. Although that could have just been Brooke’s imagination. God, she didn’t even know anymore.  

“Right!” Nina cried, as everyone looked dangerously close to slipping into a snack-induced coma. “Sardines time!”

“Kiki should hide first, it’s her birthday!” Silky argued immediately, Brooke only the tiniest bit affronted.

“Hey, hey, it’s Brooke’s birthday too. Also, I feel like y’all are way more enthusiastic than me about this, so I really don’t mind.”

“Brooke hides first!” Nina shouted unnecessarily. Brooke stood up from the sofa and rolled her eyes.

“Wait, so everyone is after me? Christ. This is like that nightmare I had about being on Hunted.”

“Good luck tryna squeeze that Jolly Green Giant-ass body into any of these cupboards, bitch!” Vanessa yelled across the room to uproarious laughter, Brooke turning round in time to see Vanessa stick her tongue out at her.

“Oh, like you can talk! Are you not the same size as an actual Subway sandwich?” Brooke bit back, sticking her tongue out right back and feeling an excited fizz in her stomach as she caught Vanessa blushing slightly as she laughed. As the other girls joined in with the mocking and all piled on each other, Brooke spotted two girls who weren’t laughing- Akeria and Silky were looking at each other knowingly, a look that seemed to convey disapproval. What the hell was their problem? If Vanessa was fine with her, then that meant there was no reason for the two of them to hold a grudge either, right?

Brooke frowned, trying not to read too much into it. She turned around and headed out the door. “Okay, count to 100 then, bitches!”

As she heard the others all start chanting descending numbers like a terrifying cult of mathematicians, Brooke began dashing around the house for a place to hide. She ran past the bedrooms, assuming that the others would check there straight away. Brooke considered going behind the porch door, but then thought that might end up being too obvious. She found herself in the kitchen, and to her delight she noticed a huge wooden door set into the wall that had to be a cupboard. Opening it, she saw what looked to be a pantry- shelves and shelves with only a couple of tins left by other guests at the house. It was good, but Brooke didn’t think it was a particularly great place to hide until she spotted another door at the very end of the pantry- slightly smaller with a little circular handle. As Brooke turned it, she was confronted with a tiny dark room, with only the blinking lights of the boiler that sat inside to illuminate it.

Perfect.

As Brooke hopped in, she could hear the blood roaring in her ears and her heart thumping. She wanted to giggle. This was exactly how it had felt to play hide and seek when she was little, and she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old still feeling the same way. Hell, she couldn’t believe she was a grown-ass twenty-two year old playing hide and seek. Gradually, she began to hear the sound of footsteps thundering above her, the old ceiling creaking and letting Brooke know the girls were on their way. Then, it all went silent for a while. Brooke breathed out heavily. Just then, she heard the door to the pantry open and one set of footsteps shuffle through it. They dashed to the end of the room and then seemed to be satisfied that there was nothing more to investigate- until Brooke heard them do what seemed to be a double-take. Keeping her breathing silent, Brooke stood frozen to the spot as she saw the door gradually open with a long, murder-mystery style creaaak…

Shit.

Vanessa stood at the doorframe to the cupboard, a shit-eating grin on her face. “I’ve been tellin’ Yvie I’m the best at hide and seek, but she ain’t believe me. What’d that take me, two minutes?”

“Yeah, good job, Poirot,” Brooke smirked, although it was hiding a multitude of nerves. Her and Vanessa, stuck in a tight, dark space together until the other girls found them. This was fine. This would be fine. “Right come on then, girl, you need to get in.”

“Fuck no, I ain’t goin’ in there! That’s a straight-up spiders’ nest, fuck that.”

“Just get in!” Brooke grabbed her gently but firmly by the wrist and dragged her inside, closing the door behind them. It was entirely dark except for the small strip of light where the door met the doorframe, which illuminated Vanessa’s hair and collarbones. There was a small beat of silence in which Brooke’s eyes adjusted to the darkness again, and when her vision had settled she could see Vanessa smiling at her cheekily. “What?”

“There’s a spider in your hair.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “No there’s not.”

“There is! A big one. It’s some Harry Potter type shit, I swear.”

“Shut up, Vanessa, I’m not falling for that shit,” Brooke snorted a laugh, squashing the unease that began to creep up on her.

“It’s got, like, a billion eyes.”

“Has it.”

“An’ forty legs,” Vanessa bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck kind of biology classes did you go to? A spider with forty leg- JESUS!” Brooke all at once cut herself off, feeling a movement at her shoulder, her hair flicking against her neck slightly. She gave herself such a jolt that it felt like whiplash, and she watched as Vanessa laughed at her brushing wildly against her shoulder. Brooke was confused when her hand connected with another hand. Vanessa’s hand. How the hell she’d managed to reach up there without Brooke’s notice was anyone’s guess, but she’d certainly done what she’d set out to do. Brooke launched herself forward and squeezed a hand at Vanessa’s waist, laughing as the other girl screeched in response. The two girls descended into giggles, Brooke having to fend off Vanessa’s playful swipes as she berated her.

“Shut up, bitch! You’re going to get us caught!” Brooke laughed, grabbing one of Vanessa’s wrists in each hand. Suddenly, both girls paused, the compromising position they were in dawning on both of them. The memory of when she used to pin Vanessa to the bed with both her wrists and kiss her neck shot through Brooke’s mind like a hot iron, unwanted and welcome all at once. In the darkness, she could see Vanessa’s single raised eyebrow.

“You telling me you don’t wanna get caught?” she murmured, her voice low and making the atmosphere charged and thick with something that hadn’t been there before. Brooke squeezed her thighs together. This couldn’t turn into something else. She couldn’t let it.

“Well, that is the whole point of the game,” Brooke said, trying to inject as much level-headedness into her tone as she was able. To her dismay she watched as Vanessa’s eyes took on a dark twinkle.

“Oh, right, uh-huh. The game. Sure,” she smirked, Brooke only able to laugh in response because that way she wasn’t saying anything. This situation was fucked. It was so weird. Vanessa was flirting with her, unprompted. So what did this mean? That she still liked Brooke? That she wanted to be friends and was just playing? What did this mean for her and Monique? They couldn’t be that serious, then, if Vanessa was doing all this? Or maybe they’d fallen out and Vanessa wanted her to be jealous? But what was the point of making somebody jealous who wasn’t here? What if her and Monique were together and Vanessa was cheating? What if-

“AYYYYYY FUCKIN’ HOES! Yes! I’m shit-hot at this game, Jesus!” Silky threw the door open, screeching her head off and sending every thought that Brooke was overthinking into the stratosphere.

“Stop yellin’ bitch, and get in!” Vanessa laughed. As Silky squeezed into the ever-decreasing-in-space cupboard, Brooke felt her throat almost close up as Vanessa shuffled up against her to make more room, tilting her head up, locking eyes with Brooke and sending her a look that she couldn’t decipher before looking away and whispering to Silky.

They were eventually found by the other girls- namely because there was no space at all once Scarlet arrived so Plastique found half of the girls with one toe in the cupboard and the rest of their bodies outside of it. The game carried on, but Brooke’s head wasn’t properly in it. She would deliberately put in the bare minimum effort when she was looking for the girls because, really, she wouldn’t know what to do if she was stuck in another confined space with Vanessa. Why had it turned so weird before? All flirty and edged with something she couldn’t work out. It wasn’t right- Vanessa was meant to be mad at her, meant to hate her and never want to speak to her again and somehow they’d gone from civil, to nearly-friends, to eye-fucking each other in a boiler cupboard in the space of a month?

The encounter was still playing on Brooke’s mind as she got ready for dinner. The girls had all decided that they would “do a Love Island” (in the words of Akeria) and all get glammed up to sit in the living room and play games after they’d eaten. It felt funny to be putting on a dress, heels and fake lashes without the possibility of going out anywhere, but the methodical process of putting on her makeup was a welcome distraction from the swirling thoughts in Brooke’s head.

“Ayo,” came an unexpected voice, causing Brooke to flinch a little and drop the lipgloss she’d been applying moments before. Looking behind her in the mirror she saw it was just Yvie and Nina. Usually she’d have been happy to see them, but right now she was doing too much overthinking and couldn’t let on what had happened earlier between her and Vanessa. So Brooke just stuck on her best fake smile as she turned around to face them.

“Hey! You guys look so good,” she complimented them, Nina smiling and Yvie giving a little snort.

“Well I didn’t want to be accused of not making an effort for your birthday again,” she poked her tongue out at Brooke and tugged a little at the beads on the hem of her short gold dress.

“If you trip in those heels I hope you know that’s, like, instant paralysis,” Brooke commented, looking at the spikes of Yvie’s six inch stilettos. When the girl did glam, she did glam, Brooke had to give it to her.

“As if Yvie needs to be any taller than she already is,” Nina laughed playfully.

“Awh, she needs to be tall so she can look down on her smol bean uwu girlfriend,” Brooke teased, Nina continuing to giggle and Yvie giving an amused roll of her eyes.

“What’s up with you anyway, bitch? You’ve been, like, extra bitter around all the couples today. It’s supposed to be your birthday, cheer the fuck up,” Yvie gave her a little nudge with her foot. Brooke frowned. She didn’t think she had been being bitter, but maybe Yvie was right. Fuck, what had she even said today? Brooke hoped that Vanessa hadn’t noticed anything.

“No, that’s not true. I’m fine! Just…” Brooke sighed, the bingo-hall-style tombola spinning rapidly in her head to generate an excuse. “…exams are soon, you know, and I’ve not started revising yet-”

“Oh my God, bitch, they’re in May! This is March! Chill the hell out,” Yvie laughed, pulling Brooke up from her position on the floor by the long mirror in the corner of her room. “Let’s go eat pizza. If Monet and Plastique have worked out how to cook them in that 1920s horror oven.”

As Yvie excitedly strutted out of the room and Brooke made to join her, Nina reached out to squeeze her hand.

“You’re a crap liar, Brooke Lynn Hytes,” she hissed quietly, Brooke rolling her eyes and making to protest when Nina spoke again. “But I won’t push it. I just wish you’d open the fuck up more.”

Brooke felt guilty. “I just don’t…it’s something I don’t want to overthink, Nina. So the best way you can help is helping me stuff myself full of carbs then pouring a 24 pack of San Miguel down my throat.”

Nina nodded understandingly as they reached the top of the stairs, Brooke holding back a snort as she watched Yvie cling to the bannister for dear life as she descended. Nina gave her hand another squeeze, then dropped it. “I can do that. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Brooke shyly looked down at her short, black one-shoulder dress and smoothed it down. “Thanks, babe.”

Nina’s smile suddenly turned scheming. “And so does Vanessa.”

Before Brooke could protest, Nina was bounding down the stairs in her bright white Filas that she’d paired with her blue and white checked dress. It wasn’t as formal as Brooke’s or Yvie’s, but that was the beauty of having a glam night in a big house where it was just them- nobody could judge you for being over or underdressed.

As Brooke followed her flatmates into the kitchen, she was met with the sight of her friends all happy, chatting, and in their best outfits. Annoyed at herself, she found her eyes darting around to find Vanessa. She wanted to know why Nina had said what she’d said, wanted to know if she was just winding her up.

And then her eyes came to rest on the most gorgeous version of Vanessa she’d ever seen, and her anxiety dipped, did a loop, then spiked. They were both in black- some dumb coincidence that the earth had sent her way, no doubt- but Vanessa’s was shiny, a vinyl dress that clung to her as if it was made of latex and painfully highlighted every curve of her body. She’d paired it with red heels, which had straps that snaked their way up her calves and showcased her perfect skin. Her dark hair had been blow-dried out (probably by Akeria, Brooke guessed) and fell in perfect waves down her back and over her shoulders (had she fucking highlighted her collarbones?). Her makeup was, as usual, perfect, a dark shock of eyeshadow and an indecent red on her lips causing Brooke’s heart to race. The worst part, though, about the whole outfit, was the silver zip that ran from the top of the dress to the bottom, right in the middle at the front, and either Vanessa (or someone mucking about with her…probably Silky) had unzipped it just the tiniest amount. For about the hundredth time that month, Brooke cursed herself for breaking things off with Vanessa. It wasn’t just about her looks though, or her body, or how much she missed the sex. Their interaction in the cupboard made Brooke remember how funny Vanessa was, how much of an endearing goofball, how she was just a cheerful person whose only real wish in life was to be properly happy. And Brooke had hurt her, made her the exact opposite of that. Vanessa loved everything and everyone so deeply, was the most open of books, and was so unafraid of feeling. Meanwhile there was Brooke not even able to tell her own flatmates, the two girls that knew her best in the world, about her own feelings.

As she watched Vanessa’s eyes drift from Scarlet and Monet, who she’d been talking to, across the room to rest on her, Brooke felt her heart stop. Not giving a single thing away, Vanessa smiled, gave a little wave, and crossed the room to where Brooke stood.

“Hey!” she began, so confident and self-assured and making Brooke feel more like a trashbag than she already did. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks!” Brooke smiled, uncharacteristically flustered at the tiny compliment. “You look so beaud!”

Fuck. Brooke kicked herself for getting tongue tied, badly hoping Vanessa wouldn’t have noticed. As she watched a confused smile appear on her face, Brooke realised she’d have to explain herself. “I was going to say beautiful, then I changed it to good and they just sort of…mushed together.”

Brooke felt her face grow hot as Vanessa simply raised an eyebrow in a smirk. “I’ll take both. Beautiful and good.”

Just as Brooke was about to defend herself, Silky announced to the girls in her own Silky-esque way that the pizzas were ready, and, giving a cry of delight, Vanessa had dashed across the room and left Brooke forgotten about.

As they all ate, Brooke fought an internal battle. She had absolutely no right to feel sorry for herself, this mess was entirely of her own making. Besides, she had to put everything out of her head now; she had made her decision, Vanessa had moved on, and she had to let the whole thing drop. But despite all this, it didn’t stop her brain constantly pestering her with what-ifs.

It was still pestering her once they’d all finished their dinner and moved upstairs into the huge living room for drinks and games, so she was glad when Nina popped herself down beside her with two ice cold bottles of beer from the fridge.

“One for each hand,” she explained. Brooke burst out laughing. She fucking loved Nina so much.

“Where’s yours?”

“Monet’s making mojitos for me and her. I love having a girlfriend, it’s like a sexy butler that you get to have sex with and cuddle any time you want,” Nina mused wistfully, giving Brooke her second belly-laugh in the space of two minutes. As she composed herself, Monet came into the room with two huge tall glasses overflowing with crushed ice and garnished with lime and mint.

“Where the fuck did you get mint and limes?” Brooke asked, screwing her face up in confusion then scrambling to pull a slightly more attractive one as Vanessa came in flanked by Silky and Akeria.

“I brought them, bitch! Anyway what did I miss?”

“Nina called you a sexy butler,” Brooke said casually, sipping one of her two beers and smiling as she watched Nina grow flustered.

“Jesus Christ, I’m getting all the compliments today! First I was a Tesco Finest girlfriend, now I’m a sexy butler. You know how to treat a lady, Neens,” Monet teased, pulling her girlfriend in and smothering her with kisses on the cheek.

“Ugh, get that couple shit outta here,” Vanessa yelled from the other sofa, throwing a leftover crisp at them. Monet instantly snapped back.

“Uh, like you can talk, Vanj.”

“What the shit hell is that meant to mean?” Vanessa laughed, amused.

Akeria grew outraged as she turned around to face Vanessa, her long, straight hair swinging wildly as she flipped it over her shoulder. “NEED we remind you what you sent to the group chat last week?!”

Silky began yelling, mirroring the cries of woe and dismay that were circling through Brooke’s brain at being reminded that Monique was still very much in the picture. “NO we do NOT need reminded! I can’t go through that again, dear Jesus God…”

“Fuck babygirl, I need that mouth on me-” Akeria began reading dramatically from her screen, the girls cringing and laughing and every word feeling like a kick to Brooke’s gut as Vanessa, face bright red, wrestled with Akeria to get the phone out of her hands. “-I’m touching myself but you know it’s not the same- aw, V! Give it back!”

“I’m gonna eat this fuckin’ phone, Akeria Chanel Davenport, I swear,” Vanessa chided her furiously, holding the phone out of her reach then relenting, giving it back to her. Silky fanned herself dramatically, making the others laugh. As Brooke did her best fake laugh and joined in, she tried not to make eye contact with Vanessa’s embarrassed face.

“Aw, are we talking about the unfortunate dirty text incident?” Plastique’s voice came from the hall, everyone laughing again as she sat down in the armchair beside the fire. “Seriously, V, you should be a songwriter. I swear that whole thing could’ve been from a Kamille song or some shit-”

“Well, all sexts are a little bit cringey, aren’t they?” Nina offered kindly, attempting to cheer Vanjie up. In doing this, she only succeeded in earning herself an exasperated cry from Monet.

“V, do you wanna go out? I can’t stand this bitch any more, she just keeps insulting me.”

As everyone howled with laughter and Nina frantically smothered her girlfriend in kisses trying to get her back onside, Brooke sneaked a look at Vanessa. She was laughing, but her face was still a little red. Christ, she looked so cute. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“Speaking of sex, I’m assuming Yvie and Scarlet went off to bang?” Plastique shrugged, everyone finally realising who was missing.

“Oh, fuck this! Save that shit for later!” Silky protested, Akeria laughing and whacking her.

“Hey, let them be happy! It’s my birthday so I’m sayin’ if they want to fuck, let ‘em. In the meantime I have an empty wine bottle and a room full of girls with secrets that need spilled,” Akeria announced. Plastique clapped excitedly, Silky cheered and Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“For Christ’s sake, Kiki, do we not already know all there is to know about each other?” she complained. Interesting. So Vanessa didn’t want to play truth or dare, a game she was usually always down for.

“Excuse the fuck outta me, we played that stupid tuna game earlier!”

“Sardines,” Brooke deadpanned, earning herself a laugh from the room.

“It was some type of fish, I got that much right.”

“How are you through a whole bottle of wine already?” Silky asked, impressed.

“Can I live? It’s my birthday! Now will you hoes stop pissing in my cereal and let’s play!” Akeria implored, setting the wine bottle down against the red carpet and spinning it so violently Brooke worried that it would smash on the marble grate. It slowed, turning round and round and finally resting right back at where Akeria leant down from the sofa. She let out a giggle. “Oops. Guess it’s me.”

“Keeks, truth or dare!” Plastique asked excitedly. Akeria tilted her head, deep in thought.

“Hmm. I ain’t drunk enough for dares yet, so let’s go truth.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone racked their brains to think of something. Monet was first with an idea.

“Fuck, marry, kill: Silk, Vanj or…uh…”

“Asia,” Vanessa said simply, sipping some coke and spirit concoction through a straw as Silky let out a screech. Brooke was confused. She met her eyes with Nina’s, who looked equally baffled.

“Wait, who’s Asia?” Nina asked. Akeria, to her credit, looked composed. To be fair, Brooke had hardly ever seen her look anything but.

“She’s a friend from my course. We did a paired project together an’ she came over to the flat to work on it the other week,” Vanessa shrugged. “Her an’ Kiki seemed to hit it off.”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ crush on the girl, Jesus. Don’t make it weird,” Akeria rolled her eyes, blinking slowly. If Brooke squinted she might’ve spotted a flush to Akeria’s face, but perhaps that came from the glow of the fire.

Monet muttered under her breath to Brooke and Nina as the three flatmates bickered away. “Is Akeria gay?”

Brooke blew out a bunch of air. “Fuck, I don’t even know who’s what anymore.”

“She’s never classed herself as straight,” Nina elaborated cautiously. “She talks about getting dicked down by guys a lot. Then again, it’s really only Silky that does that and Keeks just joins in.”

“Silk and Vanj know something we don’t,” Brooke reasoned, watching as the two girls laughed and Akeria sat, poised and smirking at them indulgently as if they were kids.

“Right, enough! ‘Keria, fuck marry kill: Vanjie, Silk or Asia, then,” Monet shrugged, sipping her mojito.

Akeria flipped some hair over her shoulder and tilted her head to the sky thoughtfully. “I honestly can’t decide who I’d rather kill, Silk or Vanj.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna fuck or marry Asia, correct?” Vanessa quipped, a little fire igniting in Brooke’s heart as she watched a wicked smile spread across her scheming face.

“No, I don’t know her well enough to have any strong feelings towards her either way. You and Silk, however…” Akeria raised her eyebrows long-sufferingly, coaxing a laugh out of the other girls. “Uhh, right, marry Asia, or whatever. Kill Silky.”

“Bitch! I’ll kill you for real,” Silky objected, pummeling Akeria’s arm with a cushion.

“Fuck Vanj because she likes girls anyway and if she’s going down on me it means she’s not talking with that fuckin’ gritter-truck voice of hers,” Akeria shrugged as she concluded, the room cheering and Vanessa doing a little celebratory bow. As she flipped her head up she caught Brooke’s eye, giving her a little wink. Brooke crossed her legs and tried not to think about Vanessa going down on anyone. Least of all her.

“Aight!” Akeria said, indicating to everyone that her turn was well and truly over. “We move.”

The bottle was spun once more, Brooke taking a long drink out of her bottle and draining it. She needed to be tipsier than this. Everyone else seemed a little more drunk than she was, apart from Vanessa who she noted was sipping her drink sparingly. Brooke shook her head a little, trying to stop bringing her focus to Vanessa every five minutes. She’d taken her heels off and tucked her legs up underneath her on the sofa, and her thighs looked good for it.

“Plastique, truth or dare!”

Plastique tucked her hair behind her ears. “Uhh, dare.”

Brooke knew what to do for this one. Plastique had taken Ariel on a couple of dates, but the girls were emotionally stunted and neither of them had properly articulated their feelings to the other yet. “Call Ariel and tell her how you feel about her. Properly.”

As the other girls “oooh"ed in appreciation, Plastique fixed Brooke with an unimpressed glare. "I’m not doing that.”

“Pussy,” Brooke shrugged, sipping her other beer. Vanessa let out a laugh from the other side of the room.

“Brooke Lynn’s telling someone else they’re a pussy for not being open about their feelings? Are we in the correct universe?"

As the other girls gave a laugh that was only the slightest bit uncomfortable, Brooke rolled her eyes. "Okay, well at the very least send her a heartfelt text.”

“Why are you pushing this so much, ma?” Plastique pouted as she relented and reached for her phone.

“Because I’m bored of sitting in lectures hearing you moan about how you can’t tell her how you feel because it would make it weird or how you don’t want to come across too intense!"

"We all had to listen to you pine after Vanjie for two and a half years but we never forced you into admitting anything,” Plastique shrugged, the room erupting into shrieks. Brooke gave a choke of a laugh, wanting the ground to open up and swallow her. She knew her face was bright red without having to look in a mirror and, as much as her brain was imploring her not to, she found her eyes darting quickly to Vanessa to catch a glimpse of her face.

Calm, smiling tight-lipped and smug. As if she’d won something.

“No, but you did start a sweepstake about us so get off the high horse, thanks!” Brooke sing-songed back, the slight hint of irritation to her voice letting Plastique know she was to drop it. Us. The word felt weird in Brooke’s mouth, it hadn’t been used in so long. Two and a half years. Had she really liked Vanessa for that long before everything had happened between them? Brooke had actually thrown away two and a half years of feelings for the sake of one feeling of indecision, a feeling that maybe they shouldn’t have been a they any more?

For Christ’s sake don’t look at Vanessa.

“Fine. I’ve put tonight’s really fun but I miss you, I always miss you when you’re not with me, hope you know how much I care about you. That heartfelt enough for you bitches?” Plastique muttered, embarrassed. Nina let out an “aaw”, Akeria made a sick noise.

“Acceptable,” Brooke shrugged, sipping on her beer again. Suddenly, a cheer went up from Akeria, Vanessa and Silky who could see who was coming through the living room door first. Yvie and Scarlet were walking close, holding a glass of red wine each and wearing matching poker faces.

“Oh, here they are! Nice of you to finally join us!” Nina cheered, Scarlet giving a small smile and smoothing her dress down, sitting beside Yvie on the last remaining couch.

“All the best people are fashionably late!” she shrugged. Yvie gave a snort and swept some hair over her shoulder to cover her neck. Brooke saw the action and jumped on it.

“Nice neckwear.”

Yvie turned only slightly red. “Thanks. Gucci.”

“Hear that? Yvie’s girlfriend is Gucci. Not Tesco Finest. Gucci,” Monet nudged Nina, setting another laugh off amongst the girls.

“We’re playing truth or dare,” Brooke explained to the two girls, as Plastique gave the glass bottle a bit of a pathetic spin.

“Vanjie!”

Vanessa shook her head. “Nah that spin was shit, it don’t count.”

“Like hell it don’t! Truth or dare, bitch?” Silky all but interrogated her. Vanessa thought about it for a moment, then decided.

“Truth.”

Brooke’ heart hammered in her chest. She hoped to God they wouldn’t ask Vanessa anything about her, anything about them.

“What’s going on with you and Monique, Vanjie?” Monet asked dramatically, Akeria giving a cry of delight and thumping her hands against her thighs.

Great.

As the room broke out into eager laughter, Vanessa just smiled.

“Well, Monique and I are good friends, and…we get on well. We both been, y'know, unlucky in love a lil’, so…” Vanessa trailed off, the room giving little chokes of anticipation and Brooke’s stomach twisting. “…if it’s one in the morning and one of us is maybe still up…y'know…”

Monet gave a tiny squeal through her teeth. Brooke wanted to wedge herself in between the sofa cushions and not emerge again til May of next year.

“Y'know, Monique’s very confident, very sure of herself, an’ that's…y'know, it’s attractive…” Vanessa trailed off, running her tongue over her teeth. Brooke knew that face, remembered the time when that face used to get directed at her before they’d fall into bed together, frantic kisses planted along collarbones and clothes discarded over the uneven floorboards of Vanessa’s room.

“But what’s actually going on? You’ve said so much but not actually said anything,” Yvie let out an unimpressed laugh. Vanessa composed herself and sat up straight, taking a rare sip of her drink.

“Well, we get on well. She’s a good person. And we’re friends,” Vanessa smiled coyly, causing the girls to laugh uproariously.

“Okay, okay, we all see it! We all get it!” Monet laughed, the knife twisting in Brooke’s stomach. Could it have been more obvious that they were obviously having each other in every type of position imaginable with any chance they got, or was it just Brooke being paranoid? She thought back to what Monet had said in the car earlier and concluded that, occasional hits of the bong aside, she was not being paranoid by any stretch of the imagination.

The game rolled along. Nina was made to do something vague and embarrassing with Monet that Brooke forgot quickly (or perhaps blocked out), Scarlet was forced to admit (rather proudly, Brooke thought) that her and Yvie had quickly fucked upstairs in the time they’d been away, and a few other of the girls did a couple of bland truths. As much as the bottle spun and spun, it never seemed to point Brooke’s way. Brooke was glad. She didn’t want to admit or say anything, and she also didn’t want to do anything remotely risky. However, when the bottle landed on Vanessa a second time, Brooke began to reconsider her thought process.

“Dare,” Vanessa smiled, a glint of danger in her eye flashing quickly as she darted her eyes quickly to Brooke.

Brooke tried not to look at Nina as she spoke. “Vanjie. Kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Plastique whispered quietly. It seemed as if the whole room held its breath. Brooke didn’t know if she was grateful to Nina for the setup or whether she wanted to descend into the earth’s core. She knew Vanessa had answered this question before with this group of girls, she knew that Vanessa thought the answer was her. But that was before everything had changed. Brooke felt her pulse race as Vanessa looked to the ceiling, deep in thought.

Slowly, she turned her gaze to Yvie and Scarlet.

“Yvie,” she began, a small sinking feeling lodging itself in Brooke’s chest. “Can I kiss your girlfriend?”

Yvie smiled at Scarlet proudly, happy for the compliment. “Dare’s a dare. Bring her back.”

“Scarlet, can I get a lil’ smooch?” Vanessa laughed, Scarlet laughing back and motioning for her to sit beside them on the sofa.

“C'mere, friend,” she laughed easily, Vanessa crossing the room and joining them. Brooke remembered when Vanessa had kissed Scarlet before- in the nightclub, before they were together and before Yvie and Scarlet were together. She remembered how it made her feel- a little irritated and sad all in one. Looking back, she realised it was plain and simple jealousy, and she knew her feelings weren’t going to change this time.

Quickly, Vanessa leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her gently but slowly, her hand resting on Scarlet’s hip easily. It could only have been about three seconds long, but each one seemed to tick by agonisingly slowly, and Brooke hoped she wasn’t showing any of her fucked-up emotions on her face. As the two girls pulled away and the others whooped and whistled, Scarlet made a face.

“Bitch, all I tasted there was pepperoni. That was the least sexy kiss I’ve ever had.”

“You loved it, hoe!” Vanessa laughed, retreating back to her seat. Desperate to look at anything but Vanessa’s face, Brooke watched Yvie and Scarlet. Yvie had the satisfied grin of a mafia mob boss as Scarlet whispered something in her ear, then smiled seductively, kissing her once, twice, three times, red lipstick meeting purple.

“Well if I wasn’t bi before, I sure as hell am now,” Plastique fanned herself.

“We are the cornerstone of Plastique’s sexual identity. That’s a fucking compliment!” Scarlet cheered, Yvie laughing and wrapping her arms around her.

“Nah, you and Yvie are my parents. The Mums of the group,” Plastique explained.

“Fuck off, we’re not the Mums!” Yvie laughed, outraged. “Nina and Monet are literally right there!”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Nina cried, outraged at the perceived injustice.

“Yeah, don’t lump me in with this dork!” Monet yelled, laughing with the other girls as Nina swatted her on the arm.

“Right! Spin, Vanj,” Yvie ordered, the girl spinning the bottle round obediently. Brooke watched as the top of the bottle whizzed by her once, twice, three times, past Yvie, Scarlet, the Antigua Road girls, slowed down as it reached Plastique, edged past Monet and Nina and then came to rest on Brooke.

“All RIGHT! About time this bitch spilt some tea,” Silky clapped in delight.

“Brooke,” Akeria said with the threat level of an MI5 employee. “Truth or dare?”

Brooke paused. Her go-to was usually a truth, however there was no way she was going for that this time, not while she was still a concrete mixer of feelings for Vanessa and not while there was a room full of people wanting to know exactly what was going on with them. She shrugged. “Dare.”

“Okay-” Akeria tailed off, making to stop and think. A practically evil smile spread across her face as realisation dawned on her. “Same dare. Kiss the hottest person in the room. Ten seconds.”

Silky let out a scream, growing so excitable on the sofa that Vanessa was almost sent through the ceiling. Scarlet whispered something to Yvie on the sofa, both of the girls looking at Brooke intently. Plastique shouted over something to Akeria that Brooke couldn’t hear. All she could focus on was how Vanessa had grabbed Silky and was laughing, but somewhat nervously. Her face had gone bright red. Brooke bit her lip. She thought back to their flirting in the cupboard earlier, how they were almost back to square one again, the weird bid Vanessa had made to make Brooke jealous. She could always kiss Yvie or Nina, take the easy way out. But the more she looked at Vanessa, the more drawn she became to her until before she knew what she was doing, Brooke had stood up from her place on the carpet and taken one, two, three steps to sit on the couch and look Vanessa in the eyes.

Brooke could hear everyone in the room screaming, and she knew Silky had run out of the room shouting incoherently, but all she seemed to hear was her blood roaring in her ears as Vanessa leaned in. Before she knew it, Brooke’s hand was resting on Vanessa’s bare thigh and they were kissing each other, slow and deep and lazy and in a way that Brooke never wanted to end. She felt Vanessa’s tongue licking at hers gently and immediately felt a throb of heat between her legs as she remembered 3ams spent between her sheets and Vanessa’s head buried between her thighs.

Christ, this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea-

“ZERO! And y’all can officially cut that shit out,” Brooke suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Vanessa, Akeria’s voice cutting through her hazy thoughts and bringing her back down to earth with a bump.  

“Well, I feel like on that note,” Monet clapped her hands together decisively. “I’m away out to drink in the hot tub. Anyone else?”

One by one the girls agreed, dashing out of the room excitedly, and it was obvious to Brooke that everyone would be talking about what had just happened. Vanessa had run off quickly, her hand in Silky’s as the two dashed upstairs to get their swimwear on. The only girl that was left in the room as Brooke made to do the same was Akeria. She frowned at Brooke as they both left the room, a warning in her eyes which sent a chill down Brooke’s spine. Trying to ignore it, Brooke dashed upstairs, changed into her pink bikini and then ran outside to join the others. They wouldn’t talk about her and Vanessa’s kiss if she was there, so the less time she was away the better. Brooke grabbed a third beer from the fridge on her way out to the garden, and as she stepped outside she noticed how the moon already hung huge and bright in the sky, how the grass already had a shine of cold wet on it, and how everything looked almost a little bit magic. Joining the others and sitting between Yvie and Plastique, she tried to ignore Vanessa sitting opposite her in a black bikini that looked equally sinful as the outfit she’d been wearing before. Luckily the rest of the girls had no further desire to play drinking games, and talk instead turned to movies. Brooke didn’t join in. She couldn’t- too much was swirling around her mind, namely how good the kiss had felt. Scarlet had probably lied to make Yvie laugh- Vanessa had tasted like sugary coke, and the all too familiar scent of her perfume was still inexplicably clinging to Brooke. It had been weird to kiss after months of no contact at all. It had been a bad decision. Brooke had done yet another wrong thing.

So why did it feel somehow correct?

“Right!” Akeria said after a while, almost toppling over as she stood up. “I think I’m gettin’ a touch of the hypothermias. Who’s comin’ inside to watch Sister Act?”

“Bitch! That’s like, my favourite movie. Hell yes,” Monet sprang up, knocking Nina off her lap and into the middle of the hot tub. The girls erupted in a laugh, Brooke almost dropping her beer into the water. One by one, they all filed out of the water. Brooke was the last one left. Admittedly she didn’t want to leave- she was now tipsy enough to not feel the cold, and she could have lain back and stared at the white light of the full moon in the inky sky forever. Just as she was about to follow the others, she noticed that the second-to-last girl out of the hot tub was Vanessa. Brooke swallowed thickly, trying her best not to stare at how the small droplets of water clung to her thick thighs or how her tiny bikini barely covered her firm ass, or how her slick, wet hair cascaded down her back. Almost as if she could read Brooke’s mind, Vanessa slowly, tortuously turned around. She had a little wicked smile on her face, the kind she always used to wear when she flirted with Brooke. It made Brooke cross her legs and squeeze her thighs together.

“You got a good enough view from there?” she asked, playfulness coating her words as she spread both her arms out to lean against the back of the hot tub.

This was bad. This was not good. Brooke couldn’t flirt back. It would only lead to another really horrendous, catastrophic decision. Her mind was hot-wiring, and to her dismay she couldn’t come up with any form of quick-witted comeback. Noticing how long it was taking her to reply, Vanessa gave a throaty laugh.

“Hmm. I’ll take that as a yes, then,” she purred, crossing the water and sitting down close next to Brooke. Brooke tried her best not to choke as she took a sip from the bottle in her hand.

“Thought you were going to watch Sister Act?” she asked, trying to sound casual but cringing at how nervous she sounded as the words left her mouth. Her blood pressure dialled up a notch as Vanessa laced her fingers together, placed her hands on Brooke’s bare shoulder, then rested her head against her fingers.  

“I don’t know. Think I’d rather see what’s so special about this view you love so much,” Vanessa murmured softly, Brooke not missing the way she rushed out the word ‘love’ as if to distil any awkwardness. She didn’t need to worry, though, because right now all Brooke could focus on was how good Vanessa looked in that black bikini, and how her red lipstick still clung to her plump lips as if it had just been applied, and her beautiful dark gaze from under her fake lashes.

“Hmm. It’s a pretty good view. Pretty beautiful,” Brooke found herself whispering, eliciting a sparkle from Vanessa’s eyes. Fuck. Shit. She shouldn’t have said that, it just seemed to have happened, but with Vanessa sitting pressed up so close to her how else could she have possibly reacted? There was a small silence in which Vanessa gave a small giggle, looking down at the constantly popping bubbles. The jet stream pummeled Brooke’s back to bits.

“What’s funny?” she smiled cautiously. Vanessa looked at her, something nostalgic on her face.

“Your pickup lines are still cringey as fuck,” she smirked, Brooke rolling her eyes a little. She had to steer this conversation back to normality. Whatever the fuck normality was as far as her and Vanessa were concerned.

“That wasn’t a pickup line. If I was trying to pick you up, you’d know about it.”

“Oh, I know about it, baby. Don’ worry,” Vanessa hit back instantly, Brooke taking the pet name like a fatal shot. Brooke knew that Vanessa knew what that word did to her in the right context with the right tone. Fuck. Bad idea, bad idea. She was determined not to lose whatever game this was. She would not do anything stupid. She would not ruin the tiny, small beginnings of this foundation of their friendship that they were gradually re-building. She would stand up and go inside and watch Whoopi fucking Goldberg dance about in a fucking habit and all would be right with the world again.

“Two and a half years, huh? You had it bad, bitch, I never knew I had that kind of effect on you,” Vanessa laughed suddenly, Brooke trying not to blush as she remembered Plastique’s words from earlier.

“Not that you’re letting it go to your head,” Brooke shrugged, taking a sip.

Vanessa giggled again. Brooke wished she wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good compliment for you, I guess.”

“Better than beaud,” Vanessa smirked, snorting a laugh as Brooke tipped her head back and cringed. As she quietly stopped laughing, Vanessa shrugged lightly. “An’ I mean, nice to know I’m the hottest girl in the room too.”

Brooke let out a small sigh at having to confront her decision. “I mean just because we’re not dating any more doesn’t mean it’s not objectively true. By Western beauty standards you probably are the hottest girl in the room.”

Vanessa laughed again. “Western beauty standards, my God. I’m not even white, you dumb bitch.”

“Yeah, but…you’ve got this gorgeous skin, and all your shiny hair. And your eyes that go all twinkly when you’re happy,” Brooke explained. Where was all this coming from? “And you have perfect white teeth, and the best smile. I feel like you light up the whole room when you laugh.”

Brooke’s heart gave a twinge as Vanessa’s face broke out into a smile, tilting her face to the side a little inquisitively. Brooke gave a little cough, aware of all the compliments she’d given her. “And you have a really good figure as well, so, yeah.”

“Oh, obviously. Well, we all know how much you like that,” Vanessa smirked cheekily, Brooke suddenly snapping her neck round to face her properly.

“What?”

“Liked that. Like, liked. Whatever. We’re friends now, we can laugh about it,” Vanessa shrugged, the words coming out of her mouth confirming their status at once relieving Brooke and putting her on edge. They were back to being friends. This was what Brooke wanted, right? Vanessa still had the little cheeky grin on her face as she spoke again. “Friends who still kiss each other, apparently.”

“Well, you kissed Scarlet,” Brooke said, trying to make it as nonchalant as possible. Judging by Vanessa’s smug reaction, she hadn’t succeeded.

“You seem pressed.”

“Not pressed! Just saying,” Brooke tried to protest gently but felt she came on way too heavy.

“Mhm. There’s just one problem about all this, though…” Vanessa murmured, her tone charged with something that immediately made the hairs on Brooke’s arm stand on end, giving her goosebumps.

And then, with one fluid movement, Vanessa moved to straddle her.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Brooke’s heart almost flatlined as Vanessa spoke, her face still wearing the tiniest cocky smile that Brooke so badly wanted to kiss off of her. “It’s kinda hard to try an’ be friends with you when I know what you look like with no clothes on.”

Brooke tried her best to keep her voice level. “Well, it’s also kind of hard to try and be friends with you when you’re flirting with me.”

“It’s also hard to be friends with you when I know what your kinks are…” Vanessa brought her arms around Brooke’s neck and barely concealed a smile as she bucked her hips ever so slightly. “…Mami.”

Brooke felt the tiniest hiss escape her lips, glad it wasn’t the fuck that had immediately popped into her head.

“It’s kind of hard to be friends with you when you’re riding my thigh…or when you’re coming on to me like this,” Brooke replied, keeping one hand firmly on the side of the hot tub and the other wrapped around the glass bottle in her hand so tight she thought it would smash.

“Coming on to you?” Vanessa suddenly tipped her head back and laughed, Brooke immediately realising what she’d said. “That can be arranged, you want face, tongue or fingers?”

“Fuck’s sake, Vanessa,” Brooke laughed softly, letting one of her hands drop down under the water and rest against Vanessa’s thigh. As Brooke’s thumb rubbed at her skin softly, she tried to reason with herself. Just because she was stroking Vanessa’s skin, and had her on top of her, and was basically talking dirty to her, didn’t mean that anything was actually going to happen.

“I know you miss me, Brooke,” Vanessa said, her tone matter-of-fact as she straightened up a little in Brooke’s lap, Brooke eyeing the way her breasts were pushed up.

Brooke had to think carefully about her response. She knew she’d hurt Vanessa, so she had to keep things light. “I mean, it kind of looks like you miss me, baby.”

Oh fuck, that pet name was a mistake. Vanessa’s smile was sultry as she pushed one of her hands into Brooke’s hair. “Me? Nah, I’m just doin’ this because it’s fun. Monique’s treatin’ me very well.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Vanessa knew how to hit Brooke where it hurt. Brooke pursed her lips. She wanted to fight dirty, she would give as good as she got. “And that’s why you’re cheating on her?”

Vanessa burst out laughing. “Oh, bitch, please! Me and her aren’t exclusive! We ain’t even a thing! She vents to me about her ex, I vent to her about you, and then we fuck away our frustrations!”

A part of Brooke’s heart soared up into the black sky like a helium balloon. She didn’t think she’d shown her relief on her face until Vanessa gave a laugh. “So. You ain’t denied it.”

“Denied what?”

“That you miss me,” she shrugged, giving a little look down at Brooke’s hands on her thighs. Brooke couldn’t pinpoint when she’d brought the other one down under the water but apparently she had done. Her throat was dry as she considered her response. Before she could get there, Vanessa threw her mind into chaos as she brought her hands back behind her head, fidgeted for a moment, then suddenly threw her bikini top across the decking. As Brooke’s gaze flicked down to Vanessa’s full breasts, the other girl brought one finger up and tilted her chin up to face her. The heat between Brooke’s legs was unbearable, and she felt her paper-thin resolve rapidly melting away. Vanessa smirked. “You wanna kiss me so bad right now, don’t you? Like you kissed me earlier. You can’t even stay away.��

Vanessa seemed to edge closer to Brooke, although they were already so close that seemed an impossible feat. Brooke raised an eyebrow. “See, I feel like if Monique fucked you as good as you say she does, you wouldn’t be in my lap right now.”

Vanessa blinked slowly, mockingly. “Oh, baby. You don’t want to know the things I let her do to me.”

Brooke bristled. The tension between them and Vanessa’s teasing was getting her riled. “You’re right, I don’t.”

“Aww. You jealous, baby?” Vanessa pouted. This was going to drive Brooke insane. Her mind constantly swung between this being a bad idea and a good idea, and she had no idea which it would settle on.

Brooke locked eyes with Vanessa, the other girl’s gaze a challenge. “No.”

“You sure? You seemed jealous when I kissed Scarlet earlier, I saw your face.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Brooke repeated, holding her gaze with Vanessa. Their faces weren’t too close but their bodies were, and Brooke felt as if she was a ticking time bomb.

“So you ain’t jealous of Monique?” Vanessa murmured inquisitively. Brooke shook her head, now unable to tear her gaze away from her lips which had felt so perfect against her own earlier. “You ain’t jealous of the fact she gets to ride my face and get my pretty lil’ tongue working her clit? You ain’t jealous of the fact that it’s her name I’m crying out when I cum on her fingers? You ain’t-”

Frustrated, tense, and out of willpower, Brooke let out a low growl as she finally brought her hands up to Vanessa’s jaw and crashed their lips together, kissing her wildly and deeply and running her hands over every inch of Vanessa’s skin she was able to touch. She didn’t even care that she’d proven Vanessa right, because she had missed this, missed her, missed the way they just seemed to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle and dear sweet fucking Jesus she’d been an idiot to give up this sex. Brooke whined needily as she felt Vanessa pull away, the other girl laughing against her lips.

“You don’t kiss like a girl who ain’t jealous,” Vanessa tutted, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Or one that don’t miss me.”

Brooke ran her hands up and down her back and pouted. “Shut up.”

“Hmm. That ain’t no way to talk to me if you’re planning on getting what you want, lil’ brat,” Vanessa raised her eyebrows, bringing one of her hands down to rub at Brooke’s hipbone. Brooke let out a whimper and bucked her hips. She needed Vanessa so badly, and her words were only making things worse. Or better.

“Fuck, please, Vanessa, shit,” Brooke hissed, not caring about how pathetic and needy she looked now as she brought one of her hands up and rubbed a thumb over one of Vanessa’s nipples. Brooke felt her clit throb as Vanessa gave a little hum of delight at the contact. Her fingers had only been there for a second before Vanessa grabbed her wrist and held it down under the water, the sudden force causing Brooke’s eyes to grow wide.

“You broke my fuckin’ heart an’ now you really think I’m gonna make it that easy for you?” she barked a laugh, a guilty twinge tugging at Brooke’s rapid heart. “Fuck that. I want to hear you beg me to fuck you. You’re gonna have to work for me, baby. Shit’s on my terms.”

“Fuck, Vanessa, I really don’t give a shit how desperate I sound,” Brooke sighed, the shock of the prospect of Vanessa changing her mind about all this lighting a fire in Brooke. “Please, please, please, please, baby, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything you want, just fucking touch me, please-”

Brooke cut herself off with her own moan as Vanessa ran a hand down her body and lightly pressed two fingers against her, rubbing gently and making Brooke want to sob.

“Good girl,” Vanessa purred, Brooke writhing underneath her and completely past the point of thinking about any of the consequences of any of this. “You miss me, don’t you?”

“Fuck, so much.”

“You been missin’ this?”

“Shit yes, so much.”

Vanessa’s eyes were dark as Brooke looked up at her. “Nobody’s gonna fuck you like me, are they?”

Brooke’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head, thinking that at this point if Vanessa asked her to get married she probably would’ve booked the damn venue. “No, only you, baby, fuck.”

“Mm, such a good girl,” Vanessa smirked, Brooke’s clit giving a spasm as she thought now was really not the time to realise she had a praise kink. “I don’t know, though. You seemed pretty sure you wouldn’t miss me when you ended things.”

“I do miss you, 'Ness, I promise, I’m sorry, I’ll beg on my knees if you want me to, I don’t give a fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night…so fucking perfect, shit…"

"Mm…you would look so pretty on your knees,” Vanessa leaned in and murmured into Brooke’s ear, pressing the lightest little kiss to her neck and almost sending Brooke over the edge before anything had even happened yet.

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby, fuck, I want you to feel like you’re the most gorgeous fucking goddess in the world,” Brooke gasped as Vanessa brought her other hand down to touch herself, the sight of her working Brooke and herself into a frenzy the hottest thing she’d seen in months. Her mind short-circuited, and she struggled to know if anything she said made any sense. “Jesus Christ, Vanessa, please fuck me, I can’t take much more-"

Pride glinted in Vanessa’s eyes before she leaned in and kissed Brooke, hot and wet with her fingers still rubbing and teasing her through the material. Pulling away, she motioned to the decking around the hot tub. “Lie back then, baby.”

As Brooke almost drove her face into the decking in her haste to scramble out of the hot tub she ignored the little voice in the back of her head that told her everything about this was a bad idea, and instead focused on the one that screamed it was the best decision she’d made in months.s