#i was already going to work extra hours for the summer to save for when school starts up again

[just-your-average-tangerine]

I want to be the kind of person who does good deeds and helps people and what not and yet everytime I do, I suffer for it

[01zfan]

presidential suite | s. es

actor!eunseok x actress!reader | 10k words

loved the idea of actor eunseok so much i had to write a fic about it unfortunately.

contains: mentioning money and an uncomfortable relationship with it, reader is assumed to be a prostitute by hotel staff, dry humping on a couch like horny teenagers, eunseok and the reader are enemies kinda

Your taxi finally made the final turn into the roundabout of the hotel. The otherwise dark drive was suddenly illuminated with the bright yellow lights of the lobby and drop-off lane with bellboys ready to tend to the rich with their luggage carts in toll. The hotel trolleys were gold plated and the young boys were clad in black, from their black polished shoes to their glove-bound hands that covered their open-mouthed yawns and picked at their faces in boredom. 

When you saw the boys stand at attention waiting for your cab to come to a halt you felt a pang in your heart. Even during the night California was much too hot to be wearing a full suit, and you imagined the pay didn't match the manual labor their job demanded. When you saw their tired faces preemptively light up with the dead customer service smile you were taken back to those days yourself. Young, broke, no clear visions of your future. The memories of working late night odd jobs that didn't pay you enough still plagued your mind. Sometimes you still found yourself using your fake customer service voice, overly cheery with the intent to please by any means necessary. But that isn't to say your new wealth suited you any better. Sometimes you went months without looking at your banking statements, and you were so plagued by guilt that you couldn't identify.

Your guilt made you insist on carrying your luggage up yourself and tipping the bellboys extra despite them not doing any work and taking pictures with them even if you were tired. Because of your guilt you would slip into your customer service mode, and then because you were acting fake cheery you would feel even more guilty. The endless cycle was a downwards spiral, leaving you with an acidic taste in your mouth and making you feel like you've made a fool of yourself. It made you incredibly sweaty too, and your back was already lined with sweat from the excessive layers you wore.

You were lucky that today you weren’t checking into the hotel, technically you weren’t here at all. To everyone’s knowledge—including your team’s—you were back at your motel getting rest in preparation for your long day tomorrow. 

You made the decision after filming, one that you told yourself was impulsive even if you had the directions to this hotel saved on your navigation app the second you landed. The person you were here to see told you where he was staying with a simple text. You replied with an even more simple fuck you before going radio silent. He replied with a you wish, and five hours later you were sneaking away in the dead of night.

You left the motel quietly to avoid suspicion from the paparazzi that were hellbent on catching you in the middle of something juicy enough to sell. You called the yellow taxi a five minute walk away from your motel, covered head to toe in black. When you felt how nervous the taxi driver was seeing someone in several layers of clothes in the middle of summer come into the car you felt guilty. Part of you debated on taking off your mask and shedding the jacket, but you didn’t know what he knew. You didn’t know if middle aged man had the paparazzi on speed dial next to that faded picture of his family paper clipped to his foldable windshield, ready to tell them that an a-lister was in his cab going to a hotel that was very much not hers in the middle of the night. Your paranoia made you keep your identity hidden and deepen your voice as you gave him the directions to the hotel across town.

The taxi ride was spent in complete silence. The only sound was from the occasional squeaks from the vinyl seats and the low, low volume of The Hot 100 playing on the radio. As the radio continued playing you realized how out of the loop you were when it came to music. You tried to remember the last time you had a chance to listen to an album in full. Maybe you listened to the latest project of the person that did the soundtrack on your last movie? Something playing in the background as sat in a makeup chair getting ready, or the white noise of rain as you tried to force yourself to fall asleep?

Your schedule was too packed to enjoy anything but work. Your schedule was so much to the point that you were operating on autopilot. Your brain was just a turning cog, something that send a signal to your mouth to open and your limbs to move. You couldn't handle anything more than that most days. You were so lost that your personal assistant set your schedule as your lockscreen, trying to force you to remember how present you’d have to be the following day. The method seemed outlandish, and the schedule was hideous each time you opened your phone, but came in handy; when you turned on your phone to check the time you were reminded of the day you’d have tomorrow.

Hair and makeup: 5:30AM

Breakfast: 7:00AM

Interview #1: 7:45AM

Interview #2: 8:30AM

On set: Filming Scenes 48-52, 77, & 83 9:15AM-9:15PM

Looking at the schedule made your head spin. You already felt your body grow weary at the thought of the work waiting for you the next day.

But did you really have the right to be tired when you were on your way to a hotel getting ready to do anything but sleep? 

Behind your mask you slowly started mouthing the lines to the scenes you’d be shooting tomorrow in an effort to make use of the time you were wasting. If your very first agent could see you now, he’d be disappointed. You could see him so clearly, with his nose pointed to the air as he talked about if he was you, he’d never do something so stupid. 

You rolled your neck and put a hand on the knot forming at the junction of your shoulder. You dug your fingers underneath your jacket and shirt to prod at the tense muscle, trying to find some form of relief. Now the sound of your jacket moving filled the car, and the sound of your heavy sigh behind your mask followed behind it. You can admit that your newfound wealth did make you feel comfortable in the confined spaces like these ones. You weren't scared to let your presence be known or your discomfort be heard in the back of taxi cabs. You also had your fair share of revelations in the backseats of cars. Your first callback was in the back of a car like this one, the first time you felt like the paparazzi were actually looking for you was in the back of a tinted out van. You just wish you could feel something like that again, giddiness instead of this terrible sinking feeling.

You put your head back and let out a sigh, closing your eyes to try and find a reason why you were doing all of this. In the beginning you loved it, but now it felt like you were grasping at straws to find a solid reason. The art? The money? Because it feels good? Because you like being held?

You could feel the taxi driver look back at you from the rearview mirror, you could tell he was on edge from the way you were behaving. You had half a mind to comfort him, to pull down your mask and ask a question about the current song playing on the radio. But you only blinked hard to try and will away the tight band of ache forming around your head before going back to your phone. 

Who isn’t on edge this late at night? You said while scrolling through the script. To be relaxed late at night was a privilege, one that was revoked when you got your first paycheck as an actress.

You told yourself that it’d all pay off a million times over in between reading the lines of the script and suffering through every single pothole in Los Angeles. You told yourself each time your but raised in your seat that was another million in the box office. Each car that had their high beams on and blinded you was another accolade. You were so caught up in your mantra you didn’t even realize you were at your destination until the taxi driver spoke for the first time.

“Is here okay, miss?” He asked.

You looked out the window to see the hotel. Before you could prep your fake voice and tell him to park on the side of the building the taxi pulled into the curved driveway and stopped in the pickup area. 

From your tinted window you watched the bellboys flock to you, excited for some sort of work this late into the night. You looked at them motioning for the driver to pop the trunk as you took in the sight of the large building in front of you. You pressed your forehead to the window and still couldn’t see the top, only lights from the rooms that still had people awake and the never ending skyline. 

When the view became too much—when everything became too much—you took another deep breath and rested your body against the backseat. You heard the low music from the radio cut off completely as your taxi driver rolled down his window.

“There’s nothing in there!” The driver yelled to the bellboys.

They scattered from the trunk and went to your side of the car next. A trio rushing, and then singled down to one when they realized all of them couldn't open your car door.

They pulled you from your breathing exercise to fully immerse you in the five-star hotel experience. One of the bellhops offered the side of his forearm to you, an invitation to treat him as a living breathing step ladder to get you out of the car. You could feel the air conditioning on full blast from the grand entrance of the hotel, chilling your sweating body.

You quickly reached in your pocket and grabbed a wad of cash, not caring to look at the number on the meter before handing it to the driver. You assumed it was the right amount by how wide his eyes got and the extra arm of a bellhop that came into your line of sight.

“Are you going to be in the area in an hour?” You asked.

The taxi driver nodded, his eyes still fixed on the cash.

“I’ll be here, miss.” He said.

You nodded and grabbed the bellhops arm, feeling your body get pulled from the backseat of the cab to the curb. One of the bellhops told you to watch your step as you were fully hoisted up.

You couldn’t say thank you before another bellhop closed the door. As the taxi driver drove out of the drop off area the other bellhop lead you to the front of the hotel. None of you spoke and you stumbled trying to go through the motions of a life you still weren’t suited for.

The smaller door into the lobby was opened for you by a man in a different suit, one that had an enamel pin of the hotels logo pinned to his lapel. You wish there was a name badge, so you could atleast pretend you were interacting with another human being.

“No luggage, madame?” Enamel Pin asked.

You shook your head, instinctually gripping the arm of the bellboy a little harder. You took in the sight of the lobby behind Enamel Pin, from the white marble floor and the stairs with solid gold handrails.

“No.” You swallowed when you tilted your head and saw the large chandelier. “I’m just visiting someone.” You said.

The air seemed to shift as Enamel Pin and the bellhops eyed you down. You realized the situation long after everyone else, what it could possibly mean for a young woman to arrive at a hotel with rich clientele once the sun went down. But the working class don’t ask questions, they only follow procedure and assumed in hushed voices during their lunch breaks that there are prostitutes coming into their place of work. 

So Enamel Pin doesn’t ask you to clarify, he only points towards the concierge and flicks his head subtly the same time the bellhop goes back to standing outside to wait for their next rich customer.

“You can check in at the front desk, miss.” He says.

You’re no longer a madame. You felt like you’ve been striped of a title, you aren’t the distinguished madame but instead the dirty miss who is here to do nothing but tarnish the reputation of this fine establishment. You almost pull down your mask and take off your cap to reveal your true identity, that you’re the one starring in a blockbuster every summer and receiving endless praise for your indie projects. You’re tempted to throw a wad of cash at Enamel Pin and yell I’m nominated for a fucking Oscar, you dipshit! But you keep your words to yourself. You knew by the time you woke up the next morning you’d be circling the gossip pages, your identity badly hidden in a not-so blind item. 

Young and rising actress making it rain in the hotel lobby where her former costar ex-fling is staying. You could see it so clearly, and you could see the disappointment of your current agents face even clearer. So you only nod your head and start walking towards the desk, wishing that the bellhop stayed around a little longer to get a tip.

“Who are you visiting today?” The concierge asks.

You lean closer to the desk, trying to hide all evidence that you’re nervous. You assume the same fake deep voice again, trying to sound so different from the movies you’ve starred in.

“Song Eunseok.” You answer.

The concierge looks from her computer at the name. You thought places of this caliber would be a little more inconspicuous. But she is wide eyed, even leans in to make sure you said the right name.

“Song Eunseok?” She asks.

You can practically see the way her eyes light up at the mention of the actor. You still haven’t come to terms that he’s not you’re little secret anymore, that he’s not the same boy you saw at all your low-brow auditions when you first came to the scene. He was an international heartthrob now, one that made women lose their tact and become unprofessional.

No one knew what type of person he truly was underneath all the charm and the good looks.

But it was arguably worse that you knew and were still putting yourself in these predicaments just to see him.

You were in one now, as the concierge started to realize you were a girl going up to his presidential suite dressed like a shadow and like you were hiding something under all of those layers. 

She went back to looking at the computer, going over the approved list of visitors.

“What’s your name, miss?” She asked.

In the beginning of your careers when Eunseok still slept in motels and poorly managed inns you never had to worry about checking in. There wasn’t a concierge in a pantsuit but instead it was a man in a stained shirt who didn’t even look up from the game on the television. He would only slide you a key and say Don’t make too much of a mess before going back to his regularly scheduled program. 

You were so used to the anonymity that came with being a nobody that you panicked at the question. Your mind scraped through the people in Eunseok’s circle, who would be on the list so you wouldn’t have to give up any of your information. You thought about Minjeong and Wonbin, Eunseok’s stylists and then went to his agent Shotaro. The concierge looked at you expectantly, raising her eyebrows waiting for your response.

“Sohee. Lee Sohee” You adjusted your mask on your face to try and add sureness to your voice. “I’m Song Eunseok’s personal assistant.” You added.

The lady looked at the list then looked to you. Her eyes stayed on your face mask then flitted up to your tinted shades and baseball cap. You could tell she wanted nothing less than to let you upstairs. In her mind she was protecting her precious actor as she reached for the landline in front of her.

“Let me call Monsieur Song to let him know he has a visitor.” She said.

You nodded, feeling another layer of sweat line your back as she looked over the room number. Each button she pressed into the keypad vibrated your skull. Over your shoulder you swore you could feel Enamel Pin staring at you, ready to escort you out.

Maybe you should really get back to your agent on the spy movie she pitched to you. You already had real life experience of lurking in the shadows and going on top secret missions where there was so much at stake. Maybe instead of risking your career you could play a role that would help propel it further. 

You pulled your baseball cap as far as it could go and settled into your jacket more. This was the part of the movie where the phone rang for an embarrassingly long amount of time, forcing the concierge to ask for your ID. This was the part that it’d be revealed you were not Lee Sohee, and you were not Song Eunseok’s personal assistant. You were arguably something much worse, something way more valuable to a concierge looking for some extra cash.

Just when she was able to ask you to materialize some form of identification, Eunseok answered the phone. You and the woman drew in a pensive breath the same.

“Monsieur Song. Sorry for calling at this hour but there is a Lee Sohee here to see you.” She said.

Your eyes were focused on the transmitter, trying to imagine Eunseok on the other end of the line. The concierge was imagining him too, she turned her body and played with the handset cord like they were in their own private conversation. You leaned further against the front desk in an effort to hear the conversation. You heard the low hum of a voice on Eunseok’s end but couldn’t make out a response. 

The concierge acknowledged your presence again when she took a quick peak over her shoulder. The smile she had faded slightly as she hummed a yes into the transmitter.

“She said she’s your personal assistant.” She said.

Your eyebrows raised as you heard no response on the other end of the line. For a second you thought that Eunseok was going to tell the concierge that Sohee isn’t a girl and would never be up this late at night. But instead you hear more low hum, and the concierge nods again.

“Yes sir. I’m sending her up now.” She says.

She puts the handset on the switch hook and you can see the wistful look in her eyes before she turns to you again. She pulls a sticky note from the pile of her supplies and a pen. After quickly scratching a number onto the note she slides it to you.

“Sir Eunseok is at the top floor in room 7319.” She says.

The relief of not being caught still has you frozen. You take a moment to clear your throat and reach across and grab the note.

“Thank you.” You say. 

You’re tempted to slide money across the marble countertop to the concierge, but something holds you back. Maybe it’s the last bit of sense you have left that tells you to try and not make it look painfully obvious you’re doing something you’re not supposed to do. By the time you take the note the concierge is already doing something else that involves her computer. She’s switching between tabs and typing maniacally as if you no longer exist. She doesn’t spare you a second glance as you turn on your heel and head towards the elevator. 

As you walk across the lobby to the elevators, you imagine the sound of heels clicking across the floors. Even underneath the heel of your flat worn out shoe you can tell the floor so badly wants to make a noise, that it wants your presence to be known. You purposefully make your steps light as a feather to try and leave no trace of yourself behind. 

You find true relief when you’re in front of the elevators and hear the sound of someone coming in, booming about their flight and chatting with Enamel Pin. You silently thank the man for being unashamed to make noise as you press the button to the top floor.

As you watch the red analog number climb you settle further into the corner. Your eyes mindlessly travel around the tiny box, peering from corner to corner until you see it. The small camera hangs from the corner diagonal from you, but it’s pointed at you all the same. You stay unmoving in your spot and you imagine the security guard in the basement staring at your unmoving moving image. You don’t take a step until the elevator doors finally open to the top floor, and you let out a pensive breath when you step across the threshold into the hallway.

Your eyes are fixed on the carpet underneath your feet as you make your way down the hall. Your eyes wander from your worn shoes in contrast to the fresh carpet as you look for an imperfection across the fabric. You don’t see the dark stains caused by God knows what or fraying threads, you don’t feel parts of the carpet that were threadbare from constant foot traffic. All you see is proof of a well managed building. The difference is already staggering, you’re reminded of your motel room that had unknown stains and janitors that did illegal substances in the supply closet. You could’ve sworn there was noise coming from every room on your floor; noise surpassed the tearing wallpaper and leaked into the dimly lit hallways. The sounds of program television and people bounced off the walls of the narrow hallway and even found its way into your room. You had to blast The Price is Right to try and drown out everything, but you slept soundly. You felt more comfortable in the bed you had to check for bugs and bloodstains than you did now. 

The hallway you walked down now was completely silent. You strained your ears for signs of life, looking past the doors of the suites imagining someone was there. You were the only source of noise. Each time your heel scraped the carpet you flinched, afraid that someone was going to open one of the doors and shush you to death. The fear of being caught making noise made you knock on Eunseok’s door quietly, three small taps before you brought your arm back to your side.

You knew that Eunseok was going to make you wait outside. He had a habit of forcing you to revel in the lengths you’d go through just to see him. You were in the hallway, completely covered, but still so exposed. You imagined any second one of the doors would open and there’d be a camera pointed at you, and the very next day your career would be over. You shuffled on your worn feet and looked back tot the elevator. Maybe the taxi was still close. You could go back to your motel and get enough rest for your long day tomorrow.

Before you could even fully consider that option the door opened. Light filtered into the dim hallway, and past the tiny gap in the door you saw Eunseok looking down at you. Despite all the layers and all traces of your face being hidden you saw Eunseok’s eyes soften before part of his smile was revealed.

“Kinda late, isn’t it Sohee?” He asked, smile getting even bigger.

You pushed at the door despite the chain keeping it locked in place.

“Let me in.” You ordered.

Eunseok scoffed but didn’t even close the door all the way before getting the metal latch off. Even when there was only a slit of you visible between the cracks of the door Eunseok didn’t take his eyes off you, like he was afraid you would disappear into thin air. He opened the door wide for you, and you stepped into the entryway past him.

You heard the door close and the dead bolt lock as you took in Eunseok’s room. The corridor was small, even smaller than the one at the motel with half the amount of rooms and you understood why. You looked at the hotel room—this presidential suite—to see the full kitchen and California King sized mattress. There was a full sofa, clean and inviting in front of the flatscreen plasma television. Your motel room had scratchy seats and unknown stains on a cramped loveseat with an ancient box television that had screen burn in the bottom corner. The ceilings above you were high, maybe even higher than the ones of your apartment back in New York. There was definitely a better view, from the large windows it looked like you were at the highest point of California.

You were still taking in the view when Eunseok put his hands on your shoulders. You felt him try to turn you, but when you didn’t give in he started pulling at the sleeves of your jacket.

“You told them you were Sohee?” He asks. 

Eunseok guides your arms out of your jacket as you walked further into his room. You never understood what a presidential suite meant or what separated it from the other types of rooms in a hotel. But you saw what parts of it was illuminated from the small light hanging above you, and how it seemed to stretch even further past the darkness. 

“Because Sohee is a feminine name.” You reason.

Your voice sounds far off as you try to conceptualize how much wealth is in the room. The marble countertops with the stove embedded in and the open bathroom door that exposes the large shower. Your mouth only drops further but Eunseok is unaffected as his heavy hands drag down your arm, feeling your clammy newly exposed skin.

“Could’ve said you were Minjeong.” Eunseok whispers from behind you. His head lowers down to yours, whispering in your ear as you continue to look around the dark suite.

He can’t see the way you shake your head from his suggestion when he turns away to put your jacket on the hook by the large door. He comes back to you and puts his hands on your shoulders again, rubbing your arm and messing with the end of your sleeve.

“I don’t want the gossip pages to have her name in their mouths.” You respond.

Your mouth feels dry when you turn your head and see the light fixtures that hangs from the ceiling. Eunseok bends down to kiss your shoulder but stays there, whispering into your neck.

“You’re that paranoid?” He asks.

As if a switch had been flipped, you turn away from the wealth to look at Eunseok. He already has that knowing smiling etched into his features, like he knew he was pushing your buttons.

His hands reached up to take your mask off, smiling even bigger at the pout that he knew was already there. He lifts your cap and takes off your shades, gathering all the things you used to hide yourslef in the bowl of your upside down cap. He ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek, causing you to reach up and smack his hand away.

You can tell that Eunseok is trying to corral you further into the suite, but your feet are planted. You don’t think you could move past the space of the entryway even if you wanted to. The thought of you not deserving to see so much luxury keeps you focused on Eunseok’s amused face. You don’t dare to look at the walk-in closet next to him or the pristine paintings hanging on the wall.

“No woman is in a mans hotel room this late at night unless—”

“Unless what?” He asks.

Eunseok tilts his head to the side. You hate when he interrupts you. You hate when he looks at you so intently waiting for what you’re going to say next. You hate that he’s so used to the wealth that he wears plain designer shirts to bed. You hate that he seems more comfortable in his skin while you're ready to crawl out of it. You hate that he tilts your chin up when you try to avert eye contact.

“Unless she’s a murderer or a prostitute.” You say. You make sure to emphasize the first word, as if you were capable of hurting Eunseok.

Eunseok takes his hand away from your face to laugh. It’s a dry chuckle but it has something blossoming in your chest, a warmth that’s different from the layers of clothes you were wearing earlier. It's equally strangling, and equally makes the knot form at the base of your neck again.

“I did think you were a stalker at first.” Eunseok walks past you, forcing you to follow him across the room. He subjects you to his wealth, he practically rubs it in your face as he lazily pads to the couch like he owns the place. His black tee and low sweatpants reveals the lowest part of his back for you. You let your eyes stay focused on that as he continues to walk towards the couch. “Sohee would never be here at this hour.” He says.

“But you let me up anyway?” You ask.

You can barely see Eunseok’s expression as he sits on the couch in the near darkness. You thought it would look like he was photoshopped against the backdrop of the Los Angeles skyline, but he was a natural. Eunseok settled into the gray modular couch and put his arm on the back like it was second nature. He spread his legs out and shrugged before looking behind him at the night sky.

“I figured it was you.” He answered.

Whatever you and Eunseok had truly wasn’t all that complicated. Yes you cursed him out before showing up at his suite in the middle of the night and yes you two must hate eachother to some degree. But your separate careers grew side by side, you came out during the summer and he dominated the winter. In the fall that following year—when your careers were still fresh and you two would’ve agreed to anything to chase the fame—you were told about the opportunity you had to grow your careers and build more hype around the project you were both starring in. 

Looking back, you could admit you had fun. When work dragged on or you were feeling extra lonely you’d look at old issues of the tabloids, thumbing through the pages until you got to the gossip and celebrity couple section. You'd look down the doggy eared pages of the magazine and look at the paparazzi traps disguised as dates. You looked at the two of you walking around in matching athleisure wear on the way to pilates with Eunseok trailing behind you holding your things and the infamous Central Park date where you two played with children and dogs that weren’t yours. There was even that one photo of you in the bottom corner of the page with Eunseok's hand on your lower back guiding you to your chauffeur. That date felt very real. The drinks you held in your hand was real liquor, you felt actual excitement and the buzz of being in a Hollywood party. Eunseok's hand that reached across the back row of seats to buckle you in was real. The way he pinched your cheek and told you teasingly you should let loose more often was also very real.

The wobbly view you had of him was the same you had now. His pointed noise and high cheekbones, the softness in his expression that defied his sharp features. His hair still fell the same as he continued looking at the outside, picking at the top of the couch like he was subtly trying to find an imperfection. Back then in the back seat of the tinted SUV he was red in the face, looking out the windows in awe of the flashing cameras. Back then you only had your bleary sights on him, you only took in the smile on his face instead of the sounds of paparazzi calling out your name and orders to roll down a window.

That fall you two seemed to be the worlds couple, coming from humble beginnings and navigating the glamour of Hollywood together. You two attended every event attached at the hip, wearing a something that complimented the other and said praises during each interview. For a moment you thought everything was right in the world. The money had started rolling in, the two of you compared checks like kids compared trading cards, wide eyed and passing them in your two-person circle. Eunseok sent you the magazine issue to your new high rise loft in Astoria that had you two on the cover. We look cute together was the note he wrote in permanent marker on the back, you smiled and ran your fingers over the black ink, thinking about how he thought of you all the way in Tempe, Arizona.

Eunseok was the first person you would call when you got a positive feedback, and he was the first one you went to when you ended up losing a role. You believed for a long time the relationship was the same both ways, but when your joint project came out your relationship did what it was supposed to do. You two found solid roles and your names started being mentioned in the acting world. The same time you found out you were in the running for Best Actress the magazines found out the one thing that sells better than love was drama. So less than a week later you found Eunseok snuggled up to the co-star of his upcoming movie underneath the trees at the Maria Hernandez park, playing fetch with a Goldendoodle and cooing at a toddler that was hobbling towards them. 

The sides chosen only fueled your anger. People believed that Eunseok wronged you (they were right) and that you were the best thing that ever happened to him (they were also right). Others didn’t really care, but still participated in the feud to say that at the end of the day it didn’t matter because Eunseok had more accolades (they were unfortunately right). 

Your hatred for Brooklyn and Eunseok started then, you cut him off without hesitation and ignored his texts begging for reconciliation. You put your nose your work without coming up for air, replacing every moment you had with him in favor of lines for your upcoming films.

Somewhere along the way in the middle of your bout of no contact he caught you (or you caught him, that was still unclear) at a wrap party in NoHo. Minjeong, who you built a real friendship with during your very fake relationship with Eunseok, promised you that he wouldn't be there due to a conflicting schedule. For a moment at her wrap party you were at peace, free to drink due to the lack of press and phones that were collected at the door. But when your nth shot of the night started tasting like water, Eunseok arrived. He took the pregame route, showing up to the party already drunk and haughty like the jackass he truly was. When you were at your weakest and the party was winding down, you two set your eyes on eachother. You narrowly tried to avoid him, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of unknown cast and crew members and their plus ones as he weaved through right behind you. The further you went to try and hide the further you strayed from the crowd.

You ended up in the bathroom (the only one that didn't have people doing coke inside), trying hard to close the door on Eunseok's Golden Goose shoe. You were slurring that his shoes were hideous and he was telling you about the botched trailer for your movie one minute then the next you were on top of the small sink spreading your legs and swapping spit with him. You told him you hated him and his stupid movies and he nodded while sticking his fingers in your mouth. You told him none of it was real and he hesitated, your spit covering his lips in a thin glossy layer before he said sorry so genuinely it made you almost regret everything. You never meant to fold, you never meant to be anything less than cruel to him, but Eunseok grabbed your hands the same way he did when there were no cameras around and kissed each individual knuckle while keeping bleary eye contact with you. He truly seemed sorry when he slid inside of you with a quiet sigh, and you seemed to accept his apology by the way you begged him to go faster. 

Something that was meant to be a messy and regretful one time thing for closure happened again, and again, and again. Wherever you were working on for a movie Eunseok seemed to be trailing close behind for his own project. You two begrudgingly came to an agreement, a secret kept behind closed doors. 

Despite the level of trust needed for something so reckless you found it hard to be with him. Sometimes you questioned if you even liked Eunseok, or if you were just blinded by the false sense of familiarity and the lasting effects of the dopamine rush from the PR stunt. He was nothing like that boy from humble beginnings you met at your very first audition, the one you felt like understood you. Then he wore beat up shoes and had a hole in his polo where he accidentally tore the fabric trying to remove the logo. The same boy who talked about name brands with disdain was endorsed by several now. The boy that was so afraid to take up space spread out on the Italian leather upholstery and patted his lap like it was a seat.

“Don’t be afraid to get comfortable.” He says.

You start by taking off your shoes, carelessly kicking them behind you where you saw Eunseok’s other pair of shoes lay.

“I can’t get comfortable.” You say.

Him rolling his eyes takes your attention away from the silk sheets on the bed and the large windows that give a full view of the city.

Eunseok picks at the stitching of the upholstery and focuses on his prying fingers. He focuses on the integrity of the couch, lips pulled into a scowl before he turns to you. Almost instantly a taunting smile replaces his features as he settles into the couch again. 

“Just because your fake humble doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little luxury.” He taunts.

Despite the snarky comment Eunseok still holds his hand out to you. 

“I’m fake humble because I like to save money?” You asked.

Even with your eyes raised in anger and surprise at the jab you start walking towards Eunseok. His smile gets wider with each step you take. The floors are cold against your feet but you feel warm all over. You tell yourself it’s the rage, your body that's burning itself out from being overworked.

Eunseok doesn’t speak again until you stand in front of him. He brings his hand from his lap to hold your waist, a steady grip to keep you in place. He dares to lean forward and press a kiss to your clothed stomach before looking directly up at you. With a sigh your hands go to his shoulders and your head lulls to the side to look down at him.

“I saw how well your last movie did.” This time he lifts up your shirt to press a kiss to your bare waist. He pulls you in a little closer by the belt loop of your jeans before messing with the button. “An extra couple hundred here and there won’t break your bank anymore, baby.” He responds.

"I'm not your baby." You say it quietly, your hand rubbing his hair slowly.

You feel the tension and the forming headache melt away like rain. You already feel relaxed when you shake your head. The need to fight back leaves your mind when you feel Eunseok come forward with his other hand to undo the button.

Your body turns with each pull and before you know it the denim pools at your ankles. You step out of them and Eunseok sees it as his chance to pull you onto his lap. When you try to straddle him he directs both of your legs to one side. You stumble into the position, unsure what Eunseok has in mind for the night until you sit on his lap sideways and he brings an arm around your shoulders to keep you close. 

You can already feel his dick twitching underneath you, but before you can mock him you’re distracted by the feeling of Eunseok running his hands up and down your bare legs. He inches closer and closer where you need him most before retreating. He repeats the motion of tracing up and down your leg over and over again. It’s not long before you’re squirming in his lap and keeping your eyes on anything but the rest of the room. When the teasing becomes too much you finally grab one of Eunseok’s hands and lead it towards your cunt.

“Just because you flaunt doesn’t mean I have to.” You say.

Your words lack bite, the edge is completely gone from your breathy tone. Seeing you remain steadfast while becoming weaker and weaker only fuels Eunseok to make you suffer even more. His hand restricts yours to the side and he waits just above your waistband. He looks at you silently with a pout on his face as your stomach jumps from being so close to getting what you need. Your hand pulls against his grip uselessly and suddenly you're too embarrassed to look at Eunseok anymore.

Your head tilts towards the high ceilings as he finally pushes past your waistband. You arch your back and he pulls you closer before pressing his fingers deep to your clit with his cold middle finger.

“Is that what you tell yourself when you wear designer straight off the runway just to walk around the Upper West Side?” He asks.

Before you can defend yourself Eunseok presses deeper into your clit, pulling a pained whine from your lips and a pathetic thrust. His refuses to trace down to your slit to collect your slick before messing with your clit. Somehow it is infuriating but erotic that he knows how to not touch you but does it anyway. He doesn't treat you sweetly, he doesn't do what your hands guide him to do. He does what he wants, he goes straight to picking up the speed on your clit that sends currents through your body.

When he realizes you can’t speak anymore only then does he dip his hand down further, gathering the slick from your hole and prods your entrance with his two fingers. You feel the tension and pressure from his fingers, you preemptively let out a sigh and a small shake when Eunseok kisses your temple. The kiss is passive and small, but it makes you relax enough for Eunseok to slide his fingers inside of you.

You practically suck his two fingers in, and you whine out to the large light fixture above you. You turn your head to Eunseok’s chest seeking some type of comfort but he gives you nothing of the sort. Even if you are cradled in his lap he doesn’t baby you, he doesn’t coo at you affectionately while pumping his fingers in an out of your heat.

“Seriously. You think just because you stay at The Struggle Inn on the other side of the tracks you’re humble?” Eunseok presses the pad of his finger against your walls for emphasis. “This little persona you got going on makes me sick sometimes.” He laughs.

“Sometimes?” You breath.

You let out a labored whine from the feeling of Eunseok playing with you. He’s making a mess of you and you’re almost ashamed that you do nothing about it. Your hand reaches back to dig into the firm cushion of the couch as a means to ground yourself. You see Eunseok look from your clothed cunt to you, nodding his head as he pushes his fingers in deeper. You can feel his soft fingers, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle as your back arches. When your chest is high enough he kisses your covered nipple until you lower it out of his lips reach.

“Sometimes it’s so cute seeing your eyes get all wide like you don’t have money. Kinda feels like I’m ruining you.” Eunseoks’ free hand travels up your back and moves your body close to his. Your hands go back to gripping his shoulders instead of keeping yourself propped up. You lean all your body weight on Eunseok’s side and his arm as he runs his eyes up and down your twitching body. “You’re committed to the bit, I gotta give you that.” He laughs.

“Not a bit.” You respond.

You don’t know how he manages to string so many words together during times like this. You’re all for the jabs at ones character—especially Eunseok’s—but you think it is extremely unfair when you can’t form a coherent sentence that doesn’t involve whimpering his name. He further tips the scale by plunging another finger into your heat and using his hand to lean your head against his shoulder. One of your legs stays on the couch but the other slides off, opening yourself up to him even more.

“Slumming it in a motel while filming a movie with a half million dollar budget.” Despite being in a position of comfort Eunseok’s words have the opposite effect. He’s sturdy against you, unmoving from your body twitches and sudden movements when he hits that spot he has memorized. He so clearly wants to aggravate you while bringing you pleasure, he wants you to fight with him while he bends his hand at an odd uncomfortable angle just for you. “Aren’t you sick of it?” He asks.

“No. I’m not.” You try to bite back but your body preens forward into Eunseok’s fingers and your head leans fully into his shoulder. “Not everyone becomes a classist pig after a little success in the box office.”

“It was actually after I got my first Emmy.” Eunseok’s hand wraps around your waist and brings you further into his lap. Eunseok speeds up his hand as he brings his face closer to yours, so close your clammy cheeks touch. “You wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” He sneers.

Everything always goes back to that fucking Emmy. You still remember being up against him in the Outstanding Limited or Anthology Series. Your project was your one and only attempt at anything that wasn’t a movie, and it was Eunseok’s first of many. You remember thinking about how nice the titles of your shows looked side by side when Eunseok won. The fan wars that were fueled by Eunseok’s win plagued your social media feed for weeks. You still periodically saw the clip of Eunseok appearing on screen before the camera cut to you in the crowd. 

“The award wasn’t just for you.” You dig your hands into Eunseok’s waist to try and ground yourself. “You’e not that special. Just a one trick pony.” You lie.

Your heart only has the chance to drop for a second from your lie before Eunseok chuckles again. His fingers inside of you don’t even falter from your jab, instead his other hand pushes your leg until you move it to one side. Your other leg comes up from the ground and before you know it you’re straddling Eunseok as his fingers continue to push into you. The squelching sounds between your two bodies is louder than the kiss he places on your sweaty forehead before going to your ear. 

“You haven’t even seen all my tricks.” He teases.

Eunseok bested you once again. You have nothing to say in response to his fingers that suddenly picked up their pace, you only clutch at him tighter and moan so pitifully it’s barely muffled by his shirt. Your voice floats up to the ceilings as you crumble against his chest. You see the darkened spot on the shirt from your saliva the same time you feel Eunseok press a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re breaking my heart, honey.” He coos. “I didn’t take you for the competitive type.” 

Eunseok’s hands increase their pace and you can already feel more drool peaking past your lips. You’re being bullied to the edge and Eunseok hasn’t even take his pants off yet. You squirm in his touch again, pressing your hips down to feel his hard dick jump in his sweats. The feeling pushes you forward, it gives you motivation to try and speak.

“I’m not competitive.” You lie again.

Eunseok hums and slips his fingers out of you. The lack of stimulation causes you to whine but gives you room to push your hips against his. Eunseok’s wet fingers grab at your hip and works them back and forth. You hear the content sigh tumble past his lips as your hands grip the couch on either side of his head. You finally find the strength to lift your head up and press your open mouth to Eunseok’s. 

“Then say my movie is gonna do better than yours.” Eunseok murmurs against your lips and pushes you down again. You pant hot air into his mouth and tilt your head, silently wishing he’d kiss you instead of taunting you. “Say it and I’ll fuck you so good.” He says simply.

You shake your head and Eunseok runs his hands up and down your arms, light as a feather to make goosebumps raise across your skin. He pulls away from your lips and looks at your heaving chest and your perked nipples that poke against the fabric. One of his hands harshly pinches at your nipple, causing you to cry out. As an instinct you smack his hand even harder. He looks up from your chest to your face with a smile on his lips.

“So, so, so good.” He taunts.

Eunseok looks you in your eyes again but you can’t even bring yourself to retort. You are still trying to clear the haze and calm your lust from the edging. You only slightly back away from the peak of pleasure before you start pressing your hips down on Eunseok’s. Your previous position on his lap made it had to feel it but straddling his hips let you feel all of him. He throbs against your clothed pussy through his gray sweatpants. Eunseok even lifts his hips upwards to press against you more. You breath heavily into the crook of his neck, but you still shake your head weakly.

“I’m not gonna say it.” You whimper.

“Then you’re not getting it.” Eunseok groans.

For a moment your heart drops at the thought of Eunseok lifting you off his lap or holding your waist to cease your movements. But Eunseok is caught up the same way you are, even if he tries to act like he isn’t. He doesn’t want you to stop, clear in the way he greedily moves your hips when you lose your pace. 

You can feel his dick continue to pulse, the stimulation has you dragging your bare cunt on the fabric of his sweatpants. You swear you can feel all of Eunseok and he moans like he can feel all of you too. His hands press unbelievably hard into your waist to help guide you up and down his length.

“You’re not getting it.” He repeats.

Eunseok is so quiet you think he is speaking to himself rather than to you. But you still nod in the crook of his neck, kissing the exposed skin before tilting your head upwards towards his ear.

“I’m not getting it.” You echo.

Eunseok brings a hand between your shoulder blades and presses your chest against his. he starts lifting his hips with more fervor, letting out a quiet curse into the air when a tiny whine escapes your throat. You purposely push your hand against Eunseok’s thigh just so he will grab your wrist and hold it against your lower back.

“You wouldn’t even be able to handle it, would you?” He whispers.

"It's been too long." You quietly whimper back.

Moments like these where you two are so desperate to be quiet takes you back to your motel days together. The walls were thin as paper back then and you two had an irrational fear of being caught like you weren’t two consenting adults. You’d moan and whimper quietly into eachothers ears, chasing so desperately after that feeling you were both pursuing now. Back then you two would kiss alot more and only praises would fall from Eunseok's lips.

You weren’t sure what you preferred. Pleasure was pleasure the same way wealth was wealth no matter who was administering it. You did wonder if clutching at Eunseok’s shirt would’ve been more fulfilling if you two were on the stiff loveseat cramped in the corner of your motel room. You wondered if hearing him moan your name sweetly would’ve sent you over the edge faster if he still presented himself the same way he used to.

The thought of slumming it with Eunseok again brought you back to the edge again. You went back to the crook of Eunseok's neck as your body swayed against his. You felt the impeding orgasm loom over you. You dug your nails into his shirt and leaned against the back of the couch. For a moment you were so lost in the throes of pleasure you forgot where you were. When you opened your eyes you remembered, and when you remembered it felt further away than ever.

You were subjected to the view from the top floor of this fancy hotel, looking down at the rest of the city beneath you. You saw the cars of people just now getting off from their shifts or people heading to work while you were all the way up here, carelessly enjoying the life of luxury by fucking in the presidential suite. Your hands were tangled in the hair of your arguably richer ex-whatever, and you were grinding on custom Italian that cost more than what most made in a year. You remember being down there, struggling to get a decent nights rest after being a corporate slave all day. That was your life but it felt like an eternity ago. Instead of Eunseok and what he was giving you your mind went to the yawning bellhops and the barista who made your coffee this morning. You saw them in the dark reflection next to yourself in the glass of the window. You focused on your mussed appearance and the back of Eunseok's head. Maybe this really was a persona, maybe you were something worse.

“I can’t.” You whimpered suddenly, stilling your hips against Eunseok’s.

Eunseok looked from your waist to you. His furrowed eyebrow went from focused to confused. You looked at the sweat dot his forehead and line his top plump lip. He looked like he did when you first met, taking you back to the time you wanted to escape from so badly. When you tried to pull away Eunseok shook his head and continued to hold you close. Your loudest sound fell from your lips, something between overwhelming pleasure and the unbearable guilt that comes with achieving success you can barely conceptualize.

“You can. You’re so close already.” Eunseok pulls your view away from your reflection to press your forehead against his. He looks at you intently again, like you were his beginning and end. “My star.” He coos.

Your hips falter at the nickname. Eunseok smiles and grinds his clothed dick against you again, showing that your nickname has an effect on him too. You press your forehead harder against his, the sweaty surfaces sticking together as you two let out heavy pants. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing, squeezing around air as you get closer and closer to the edge. The grip you have on Eunseok becomes so strong your hands begin to shake.

“I’m close.” Eunseok breaks apart from your forehead to lean his head against the couch. His neck is on full display for you, the protrusion in the middle of his throat bobs up and down as he tries regaining his composure. “Keep going.” He whines.

Everytime without fail, Eunseok became the most vulnerable right before he finishes. His own persona crumbles before you. If you ever brought up how pitiful he becomes in the pursuit of his orgasm he would accuse you of projection, but his submission was so palatable you could taste it. He was no longer the cocky movie star, but a defenseless whining mess underneath you. You could always see how badly he wanted to be taken care of, it was written on his lips and evident in the way his grip tightened on you but no longer guided your movements. He needed you to press deeper into him, to kiss him all over and talk him through it.

“Look at me.” You said.

Whether your voice was commanding enough didn’t matter, because Eunseok opened his eyes almost immediately. You looked at him instead of looking around his suite or looking past him outside the large windows. You stayed locked in on Eunseok’s blown out eyes, focusing on yourself in his eyes instead. You never changed on the glassy wet reflection. You still looked the same when you stared intensely at them.

Something about Eunseok being so weak made you feel strong. You forgot about your overwhelming guilt to press your hips down to Eunseok’s and rock against him quickly, looking directly into his eyes. He only lasted a moment before his back arched off the couch and his eyes were screwed shut. You moved one of your hands from Eunseok’s shoulder to thread through his hair, pulling tightly as your hips continued to move.

He started twitching underneath you and you let yourself collapse against his chest. Designer perfume and Eunseok filled your nose as you whimpered against his chest and a beat later the familiar warmth washed over you. Your hips started moving erratically as you settled deeper into his chest, repeating that you were cumming after Eunseok already came in his sweats. 

“Go ahead.” Eunseok weakly cooed at you as his hands ran up and down your back. “I got you.”

You nodded against his chest, and you didn’t stop nodding until you felt the warmth subside. You let out a heave against Eunseok’s chest. The both of you had matching heart rates and the same heavy pants. 

You rested against him and he pulled you closer, still rubbing your back as you came down. When you could manage moving your body agains you started massaging Eunseok’s scalp, paying closer attention to the area that you had his hair tugged between your fingers.

Even with knowing you were a sticky sweaty mess you felt comfortable. When you were against Eunseok’s shoulder all you saw was him. You didn’t worry that you defiled the expensive Italian sofa or that you might’ve disturbed the neighbors. You were only focused on the whirring of a machine somewhere and the fact that Eunseok smelled like you now. Everything was reminiscent of the life you were accustomed to.

“So.” Eunseok clears his throat and lets his head rest against yours that’s still slumped in his shoulder. “You gonna stay the night? Or go back to the dirty motel?” He asks.

Instantly the veil is lifted. The fog in your mind clears and the strength comes back to your limbs. You pull out of Eunseok’s hold get up from his lap with a grunt and walk over to your pants, pulling them up your leg as Eunseok scoots forward to the edge of the sofa.

“Don’t be like that.” He says.

You shake your head again and pull up your pants quickly. You even wag your finger as Eunseok to show him he’s really messed up. 

“You ruined it.” You say. 

You walk through the dark of the suite, trying not to run into anything on your way out. The worst thing would be to leave a trace of your presence anywhere. You want to be in and out like a ghost, you want to be back in the comfort of your scratchy sheets.

“Seriously you should stay.” You hear a tiny gross leave Eunseok’s lips as he gets up from the couch. You can hear his bare feet against the floor of the room as pads after you. You don’t turn around, you only reach for your baseball cap sitting on top of the command center. “It’s so late.” He reasons.

Your mask is already on your face by the time Eunseok makes it to your side. His voice is hoarse, when you turn around you see his hair is still bumped on one side as you secure the baseball cap onto your head.

“I gotta get back to my dirty motel.” You emphasize the end. Eunseok’s eye roll and the dark splotch on his sweats is tinted behind the your shades before you turn to grab your jacket. “My taxi is waiting for me.” You say.

You can tell Eunseok has given up any attempt to get you to stay when you zip up your jacket. Instead he puts his hand on the doorknob, stopping you from pulling it open. When your hand goes to the deadbolt Eunseok puts his hand over that too. You see his softened gaze behind the dark tint of your shades, so inviting you have the urge to stay.

“How long are you in LA for?” Eunseok asks. 

Your hand goes to the small chain above the deadbolt lock right beside Eunseok’s head. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You say.

Eunseok puts his hands up in defense and you take the moment to undo the lock and turn the knob. The door is heavy, it pulls you slightly forward as you try to open it. Eunseok helps you the rest of the way and you’re forced to walk past him to go into the hallway. You don’t dare to turn back and look at Eunseok when you make it to the hallway. You keep your eyes on the elevator only, so close to escape.

“Maybe next time we can fuck on the nasty sheets in a motel?”

Eunseok speaks above his normal volume because he knows it will make you turn around. He swears he can see the indignation  in your eyes as you point your finger at him in warning. He puts his hands up in defense again and laughs at your reaction.

“Shut up.” You seethe behind gritted teeth. 

“I’m just saying it’ll be a nice change of pace for me.” He says, equally as loud.

Eunseok is happy he’s able to wear you down when you pull out your phone and start vigorously typing. He hears his phone chime behind him on top of the command center before you stuff your phone back into your pocket.

“I sent you my schedule for the next month.” You point your finger at him again as you start heading backwards to the elevator. “Don’t make me regret it.” You seethe.

Eunseok leans against his door, nodding mockingly.

“You won’t.” He says.

Eunseok stays leaned against his door even when you turn away from him and walk towards the elevator. He doesn’t catch your eye again until you turn inside the open elevator to face the exit. He decides to be even more of an asshole by bowing to you just to show you how grateful he is. Eunseok waves to you with all his might as the doors came to a slow close in front of you. 

You make it back down to the lobby, the same staff there as when you went up. You notice the concierge staring at you from across the lobby. You feel her gaze never leave your body as you shift uncomfortably from the unwanted attention and the feeling from your underwear. Enamel Pin doesn’t say a word to you as he opens the door, he barely gives you a nod as you walk past him.

The bellhops look from the yellow taxi to you, they make a step towards the back of the cab before standing still in their place. You don’t know what you’re waiting for but you’re still too. Everyone outside is still, no one moves until you hear see the passenger side window roll down.

“Have a nice night, miss.” Enamel Pin says.

The bellhops move to the car that comes up behind the taxi and your feet finally move. You open your own door and clamber into the backseat. You close your own door and motion for the driver to take you back to the same spot.

You look up from your seat in the car, trying to find the top floor of the hotel. It’s impossible to see from down here. You still try to find the top as the cab leaves the lobby, heading the same direction you came from.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

when he comes home early

genre: smut, a mix of texting screenshots and written word

word count: 2 screen shots, ~1.1k just a short little drabble

warnings: cnc adjacent? (reader is scared at first), unprotected sex, pet names, chan is called a god (because facts)

channie if you’re reading this (ik you lurk let’s bfr) ik that your birthday is over where you are, but it’s still october 3rd here. it’s like we get to celebrate twice. (like i haven’t been celebrating all week hehe) i can’t believe you were live for four hours. you’re the sweetest human and i hope you had the most amazing birthday. also, don’t read any more of this post or anything else on my blog. pls don’t perceive me. love you byeee 🩷

authors note: this was so out of my comfort zone. i wanted to push myself to write something that i wouldn’t normally. i originally wanted this to be an actual experience for the reader, with a stalker version of chan, but i can’t write that. i just can’t. so i turned my idea into this instead. :) i had to have some form of prior consent, hence the texts lol. that was the only way it was going to work for me. anywhoooo. happy birthday to our channie! 💗💗 thank you for coming along this journey of channie’s birthday celebration with me. <3 i hope it was enjoyable. :) sorry im rambling, here’s the post:

main masterlist • channie’s birthday celebration masterlist

he did come home that night and help you. but not with that particular fantasy. no, he filed that piece of information away in his mind to save it for later. you wouldn’t really be surprised if he came home that night and did it, now would you? so he waited. and waited. and waited some more until he was sure you had forgotten about it.

and that’s what led to this night. he and the kids had been away on tour for a couple months now, leaving you lonely. but chan managed to sneak away a little early. when everyone else was flying home the next morning, he flew out that night. putting him home sooner than you had expected.

he was at the door of your shared apartment, trying to be extra quiet punching in the code. but he couldn’t control the volume of the beeps, the mechanical whirring of the door unlocking and clicking open.

you stirred in your sleep. was that the door opening? you reached for your phone on the bedside table, the light momentarily blinding you. it was the middle of the night. and chan wasn’t supposed to be home for another 12 hours. you listened intently. and after a few moments of not hearing anything, you had decided you imagined it, dreamt it perhaps, too tired to pull yourself out of bed to go check.

and chan waited. in the shadows of the kitchen, he held his breath, waiting for you to stumble groggily into the kitchen and flip on the light. but you didn’t. he heard you turn over in bed, the frame making a loud creaking noise as you did so. he smiled. he carefully toed off his shoes, and placed his backpack gently on the ground, trying his hardest not to make a single sound. he tiptoed down the hall toward your shared bedroom, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. luckily the bedroom door was already open and he could see you, laying in bed. you were on your tummy, blanket kicked to the side, your arms under your head. you had on a small tank top, and a pair of underwear, the material clinging to your skin in the warm summer night air. his cock twitched in his pants. he had really missed you these last couple of months, and seeing the swell of your ass, close enough for him to reach out and touch, he was already hard.

you moved in your sleep then, grabbing the pillow closest to you and pulling it snug against your chest, burying your face in the softness. his heart gave a squeeze as he realized you had put one of his tshirts on the pillow, and were cuddling it, breathing in his leftover scent.

he loved you so much. and he couldnt wait any longer.

he carefully took of his clothes, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. he wrapped his hand around his leaking cock and slowly pumped himself as he watched you. it’s almost like you could sense him in the room. your body moved more, stretching out your muscles, slowly waking up.

you opened your eyes, and blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing things correctly. there was someone in the room with you. you could see his dark outline at the foot of the bed. your eyes widened in fear and before you could react, he was on you.

he climbed on the bed and straddled your bottom half, his cock resting against your ass. panicking, you tried to flip over, to knock him off, but you weren’t quick enough. he placed one large hand in between your shoulder blades and held you down, pressing your body into the mattress. his other hand came to your face, covering your mouth, preventing you from screaming.

and that’s when you smelled him. chan? was that him you were smelling? or the tshirt covered pillow laying next to you? a bracelet on his wrist tickled the skin of your chin as he covered your mouth. the metal was cold against your skin. his chrome hearts bracelet?

he leaned down, his lips close to your skin and he confirmed your suspicions. “god i fucking missed you.” he growled into your ear.

goosebumps erupted over your body as he bit your neck, sure to leave a bruise. his hand released your mouth and came down to pull your underwear off. they made it halfway down your thighs before he gave up, deciding that was good enough. his long fingers went straight for your pussy and he groaned. “so fucking wet baby. did you miss me too?”

your core pulsed with need. “chan..” you breathed.

he spit into his hand, coating his length, before shoving it into you. he gave you very little time to adjust to him before he started rocking his hips, quickly increasing his speed until he was fucking into you, hard. your hands clawed at the sheets as his hand on your back pressed you down harder. his show of strength had your arousal dripping down onto the sheets.

“fucking take it.” he grunted, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

you could feel that familiar feeling in your tummy. “fuck- oh god.” you moaned. “ oh my god.”

“not god baby.” he said. “just- fuck.. just me.”

his hand landed a hard smack against your ass, leaving a red print behind. “you— you are a god t-to me.” you stuttered out.

his hand squeezed the flesh of your ass before spanking you again. “i’m a god to you, baby?” he asked. you nodded against the sheets, though you were positive he wouldn’t be able to notice it.

you were so close, your walls fluttering around his cock. “if i’m god, then you’re my angel.” he panted. “are you gonna cum for me angel?”

“yes! fuck yes!” your body shook as your orgasm washed over you, your eyes rolling back as he continued to fuck you through it.

“there you go, baby.” he cooed. “just a little more. fuck- i’m cumming” he groaned before you felt him release inside of you.

he collapsed next to you, his chest heaving and covered in sweat. his head turned to look at you. your eyes were closed, exhausted. “are you okay?” he asked. “that wasn’t too much, was it?”

you smiled. “no, channie. i loved it.” you lifted yourself up on your elbows and kissed him softly. “welcome home by the way.” you giggled.

he stroked your cheek, brushed your hair out of you eyes, and kissed you again before saying “i missed you so much.”

🏷️: @httpdwaekki (i’m so sorry i forgot to add the tags yesterday! i was in a rush to post this before my therapy appointment 😅)

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[pirateprincessblog]

Blue Paradise

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: the news of park seonghwa, your best friend's brother you haven't seen in years, joining your birthday trip to maldives doesn't excite you the slightest. so far.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 19.5k

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, bit of angst, summer love, innocent but curious seonghwa, experienced reader, childhood friends, a little sadist reader, almost a milf, subby seonghwa

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: oral (both receiving), public, submissive seonghwa, dominant reader, gagging

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, mentions of eating disorder, mentions of body dysmorphia

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: use of the word noona! i'm not a koreaboo i promise, and i don't care if you think it's cringe, the word noona has a special grip on me. eternal sunshine prettiest boy seonghwa is the one i'm writing about in this piece <33 my sadistic side is showing a little here. also ???????

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

when you said the words i'm fine out loud, you weren't sure if you were trying to convince the group of girls in front of you, or yourself. you weren't angry. nor sad. you were simply disappointed. the notebook you were subconsciously gripping in your lap contained all the plans and goals that were now impossible to fulfill. just two days before leaving your hometown and visiting the sweet tropical delight, nearly all the people from your friend group decided they wouldn't be going. the trip was paid by you, as a celebration for your birthday.

maybe you chose the wrong location. or the wrong time. or just the wrong people. it didn't matter. you could say goodbye to the printed images of the blue water and the clear sky in the notebook, along with the idea of swimming with sharks or drinking straight out of a coconut. you worked hard to save up for this celebration. hours of working even after your shift was done, drowning in sweat and running home just for a few extra dollar bills. little by little, you saved up for all the tickets. true, your parents did give you money here and there. but you have your little hobbies and dirty pleasures, and oh, you just love desserts and dresses. it's not easy to save up when the marketing teams of your favorite stores work harder than you or your parents. how can you not buy that tight bright pink sequin dress with the feathery sleeve ends? and the heels which come in half price if you buy the matching bag? what a steal.

your eyes scan the room, looking for the slightest sign of guilt on their faces. yet, not a single one was visible. you wished to rip their plane tickets in front of their faces, throw the notebook at the girl who proposed the idea of rather staying home instead of getting drunk in a whole different location far from home. you witnessed their excitement, screaming and yelling when you announced the trip. then, what happened?

"we're sorry, but-"

"you're not sorry. you just want the feeling of guilt to disappear. that is, if you're feeling guilty at all." you interrupt, your tone pure frost.

your best friend cups your hand, making you soften the grip on the notebook. in other circumstances, she is the one who does the talking. but today, she is willingly letting you handle it. you've had enough of everyone using you and reaching out to you only when they need something.

"it's not like we took any money from you. you're acting like we robbed you or something." the girl says, looking at the rest of the group and asking for support.

"not directly, you didn't." your face stays stone cold. "but cancelling this late means i cannot get a refund. or real friends to go with me."

they all scoff in disbelief, some of them already angry and ready to start spitting insults. you don't care. you're ready for everything they have to throw at you.

"real friends? are you fucking with me?"

you feel like you're in a euphoria episode. and yes, it is as fun as it looks. especially when you know damn well you're right, and they're wrong. you watch them yell at you, accusing you of accusing them, making up a thing or two along the way, even getting into your face and pointing into your chest. you watch with a lazy smile, which only enrages them more. each moment that passes, they're only proving you right. they were here just for the money. if you asked them your favorite colour, they'd just look at each other helplessly. but if you asked them how much your parents have given you for christmas, they'd know to the last cent.

"you know what? fuck your parents, your trip, your money and your fake ass."

and just like that, you were left alone with the only true friend in the big house. the appetizers were untouched, and so were the cocktails. you feel a hand wrap around your shoulders.

"we'll figure something out. i won't let anyone ruin your birthday."

you smile, this time sincerely. it takes less than fifteen minutes to lift your spirits. with your friend saying stupid things in a normal tone, it's easy to come out of the shell. you're already opening your notebook again, scribbling over the names that were once involved, and adding up new plans.

"you know, we have to go swimsuit shopping. i'm still bloated from the period, and i don't think it'll pass until the trip. the plane ride will only make it worse."

you agree, already picturing the colour and shape you'd want to wear. but still, what to do with the remaining tickets? the amount of money is too huge to just let it go. you can't ask your parents to come, they're busy with a recent project that is supposed to help their business. you can't think of any other friends, and there's no way in hell you'll bring your sibling. constant bickering is something you wish to leave for home, not bring to the maldives.

"what do i do with the tickets?" you mumble, your head now lying on top of the notebook. you feel helpless. at this point, you want to cancel and never go anywhere again.

"well, you might kill me for this, but i have an idea."

you turn your head to the side, cheek pressing into the notebook. your friend is sprawled over the couch upside down, her feet resting on top of the backrest and her head hanging from the seat. she dramatically chews the chips, purposely dragging it out to tease you.

"come on now, we have a little over twenty four hours from the flight. i'm begging you, give me a solution that will save my money."

the girl finally swallows the chips, then looks up at the ceiling.

"when was the last time you visited my home?"

not sure how that is connected to her idea, you raise an eyebrow in confusion. "i can't remember. your parents usually come over here instead of us coming over. why?"

"well, you do know that i have a brother?"

"that i do." you laugh, remembering the little rascal. even though he was younger, he never hesitated to flip you both off when you bothered him, or kick you in your knees if you even looked at him the wrong way. ever since he enrolled to a high-school in a city nearby, you barely saw him. then, he went to college. he comes over every other weekend, but sometimes not even that. it's been many years since you've last seen him. "little park seonghwa."

"not so little now," she laughs, "i think he's, like, taller than your dad."

"impossible. he was shorter than me last time i saw him."

"yeah, because he was eleven."

you roll your eyes. she's right, but you'd rather eat scrapped toast burns than admit it. you hear the leather of the couch squeaking, then footsteps. she sits next to you on the floor, then pulls the notebook towards herself without warning. your head follows the notebook, almost falling off and hitting the edge of the table. you glare at her, but she just giggles mischievously.

"i thought, we could invite him and his friends."

"invite your little brother with us? to the maldives?"

she nods, not seeing anything wrong with it. your brain is already listing out what things are out of question and impossible.

"first of all, he's like, fifteen."

"he's twenty-four."

"he's basically a kid." you ignore her, sticking to your own idea as if you know her brother better than her.

"you'd be surprised how much of an adult he is now. little turd still gets on my nerves, but he has come a long way. he even hugs me sometimes."

you sigh. in your head, he is still the little eleven year old seonghwa with blue shorts and the green polo shirt. seonghwa with the blue crocs and a dirty ipad. seonghwa who would enter the room without knocking just so he could wipe his boogers on your clothes. gross.

"fine, let's say he comes along. am i supposed to wear a bikini in front of him?"

"that's normal! it's just a bikini. besides, i haven't seen him make a move on a girl since he got roasted by one for his hair at homecoming."

you can't help but feel bad for the poor boy. your brain forms an unwanted image of seonghwa, all dressed up and fixed for his date, only for his date to bring him down in front of everyone.

"i did not need to imagine that." you mumble to yourself, then try to take the pen from your friend. "give me that."

"no, wait! he has like seven friends, so one ticket will still be an extra. still better than all nine going to waste, right?"

"right."

"so,

seonghwa takes mel's ticket,

wooyoung takes lara's ticket,

mingi takes josie's-"

"hold on, hold on. they're all boys?"

"men, yes."

you close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. you try to breathe, but the idea of taking literal kids to such an expensive vacation is driving you crazy.

"i'm going there to get drunk, get a tan and fuck somebody in my pretty pink dress, maybe even get scissored by you, not to babysit your brother and his friends. and what the fuck are those names, are they forming a kpop group?"

the girl laughs, her head falling back against the sofa behind you. all of this is so hilarious to her, while you're feeling like it's a bad dream that'll be gone if you pinch yourself enough.

"first of all, very flattering, i appreciate that. i'll think about the offer. second, you're literally just a couple years older than them. and third, they're more than capable of getting more drunk than you and fuck someone, just like us."

there wasn't any space to think about it. it's either spending the week guarding kids from getting alcohol poisoning or spending the week feeling guilt because of the lost money.

"fine."

"oh? just like that?"

"what other choice do i have? let the kids have fun."

she giggles, then finishes the scribbling on the page. you scan over the names, then the female ones that were crossed out. you feel your heart tighten, but remembering that you got rid of something you didn't need the whole time, you feel at ease.

"i'll tell them to come over tomorrow, just so you can meet them and tell them the plan."

"yeah, that'd be great."

the rest of the day is spent outside, visiting various stores and trying on various swimsuits. all of them were extremely exposing, something you weren't quite used to. still, you managed to gain the confidence and buy a risky set. a baby pink set with panties that had a lower cut than you preferred, along with a shiny waist chain, and a decent bra. the summer heat waves were more than present, causing people to run into stores just to cool off, including the two of you.

after an ice cream, a few burgers and slushies, you finally collapsed on your bed. it wasn't long until your alarm clock had your eyes peeling open. you had slept for almost nine hours, yet it felt like ten minutes.

your friend was supposed to be here around dinner, bringing takeout and the boys with her. you made a deal that the boys could sleep over, so that you can drive to the airport together without having to wait for anyone. you packed all day, proudly stacking your bikinis for each day of the week. the pink one was reserved for the day of your birthday, the shiny chains carefully placed in the corner so they don't get broken in transit.

you had just packed your backpack, changed into a dress that didn't stick to your skin, letting your it breathe and get a relief from the hot summer evening. you admired your skin, wishing for it to stay that clean during the following week. you had refrained yourself from eating chocolate for three whole weeks, and the results finally showed up. you were proud of yourself for not picking on it, and decided to keep a count for it. it'll make you happy when you see a progress each morning.

deep voices travel to your ears, a sign that they have arrived. you didn't expect them to sound this grown up. you expected those soft boyish voices, that match their boy body structures. but once you reach the bottom of the stairs, you stop breathing for a moment. these weren't boys. not at all.

they were men.

eight tall men stood in your living room, patiently waiting and helping your best friend sort out the food orders. one of them stood extra close to her, telling off others if they get too close. could it be?

and as if he knew what you were thinking, he turns his head, eyes looking directly into yours. you stand there, not moving a muscle. you are scared to breathe. a sudden wave of anxiety washes over your body. these were all grown men foreign to you. and then it hits you.

they're all going on a vacation with you. they'll all see you in a bikini, in your dresses, they'll see you drink. they'll probably see you get railed somewhere behind a club. they'll probably see you at your worst when you're near alcohol. fuck.

"oh, there you are! i was already starting to go mad with all these male alphas." she turns to look at them, and one of them sticks his tongue out at her. "let's eat first and then you'll do the introduction and all that shit."

park seonghwa doesn't avert his gaze from you. he smiles, sending you a little wave from across the room and giving you the prettiest eyes you've ever seen in your life. the sparkly irises wake up a volcanic eruption in your stomach; something you haven't felt in a while. the boy- young man- sits down on the floor, his back resting against the sofa. seeing your frozen state, the girl comes towards you, hands resting on your shoulders.

"look, i know it's a bit much for you, and you definitely didn't expect them to look or act this mature and intimidating, - and, well, bulk - but give them a chance. they're really nice and comfy to be around."

you nod, then skim over the group once again. they're all wearing short sweats with basic t-shirts, yet you feel under-dressed. you wished you put something nicer on, like that green flower dress or-

"come on, now. your food is getting cold."

they have spared a seat for both of you on the other sofa, along with a set of forks and plastic plates.

"my friend is a little shy, give her a moment," she announces, and pretends to not notice you glaring from the side. "anyways, enjoy your meals."

everyone eats in silence, occasionally murmuring something among themselves. you take the moment when you're out of focus to scan each one of them. they were all built athletically, with their t-shirts straining against their muscles and the thighs occasionally flexing as they laughed or spoke. then, you stopped at seonghwa. his dark hair was softly falling over his eyes, and his bright teeth showed up every now and then whenever his friends spoke. you watched his hands spin the fork to get the spaghetti easier into his mouth, the veins on his arms distracting you from your own food. he brings the food to his lips, eating in a way so polite, chewing with his mouth closed and no messy ketchup accidents. you were amazed that this man is the little seonghwa with boogers smeared on his star wars t-shirt.

he catches your gaze again, this time smiling wider than before.

"noona, how have you been?"

you wish to bury your face between the sofa cushions. the name he once used to call you because his mother made him, was now used because he himself wanted to. why else would a grown man call you that in the place far from his homeland, where that labeling is not necessary?

"good, seonghwa. very good." you manage to say, cheeks burning as he smiles sweetly at you. "what about you?"

"i've been good, noona. pushing through college, trying not to drop out."

"says the guy with all of his exams at not lower than ninety-five percent," his friend scoffs.

he earns himself a nudge in the ribs, then whines dramatically.

"jongho, you're basically in kindergarten." your friend teases, and the young man acts offended.

"just because i'm the youngest-"

"so, seonghwa's sister's best friend, exactly where are we going and what will we be doing?"

you laugh at the addressing, then set the plate aside. the focus is on you, and your head becomes dizzy for a moment. you feel lost in time and space, and it takes you a while to get back to reality. you're there, surrounded by nine people who are waiting for you to speak instead of staring blankly. it takes one knee pat from your friend to assure you that it's okay to speak, and that they'll listen.

"we'll be staying at bungalows, the small ones you see on insta all the time. which means two to three people per one. i'll make the list later, so we can settle as soon as we arrive and not lose time on organizing."

you continue to explain your plans, but make sure to tell them they're not obligated to follow what you had in mind. still, they all seemed amazed at your ideas that none of them protested. by the end of the meal, the conversation had gone from stiff to comfortable, with multiple people talking and you feeling confident enough to speak up when needed.

"seonghwa is scared of sharks, what do we do about that?"

"i'm not, you dipshit."

"language," you laugh, looking at the bickering young men in front of you.

"sorry, noona," and there it is, the sickeningly sweet smile again. he does it so naturally, it has your heart fluttering.

the conversation about sharks and how harmless they are continues, and your focus shifts on the dessert they brought. you ate a whole plate of your favorite takeout meal, and drank almost three glasses of soda. would they think you eat too much if you took just one cupcake?

you reach for the red velvet delight, your eyes focused on your friend as she scolds the boys for the unnecessary swearing and dirty comments. your fingers brush against something cold, and you look down to find seonghwa reaching for the same cupcake as you. he sees you hesitate, so he splits the dessert in half, leaving the bigger one for you on the plate. you give him a smile of gratitude, then lean back into the leather and listen about dinosaurs and chickens and how they're related.

almost two and a half hours later, you notice them getting sleepy. they help you pick up the trash from the dinner, and then stand in front of you, as if waiting for orders.

"i'll pull out these sofas for four of you, and the other four can fight about two guest bedrooms with a couple bed."

seven of them call dibs, running upstairs to the rooms and fighting along the way.

"like i said, kids."

"oh, i don't think kids can do this."

you look at seonghwa, who was fine with sleeping on a pullout sofa, and raise your eyebrows with amusement, and amazement, as he flexes his arm in front of you. your expression is probably priceless. the veins traveling along his muscular arms are giving you trouble breathing, or existing at all.

"stop flexing in front of my friend, you idiot. she's not impressed."

"right," he says, clicking his tongue and laughing when he gets hit by a pillow. "i'll take it from here. you go rest, noona."

seonghwa takes the covers and pillows from you, making sure to brush his fingers against yours once again, looking into your eyes with a smile while doing so. he could step on you and smile like that, you'd ask him to do it again.

"oh, it's not a problem." you insist.

your friend clicks her tongue, then rolls her eyes. she puts her hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you upstairs to your room.

"if the little turd wants to set up his bed, let him. that's the only use you'll have of him this whole trip."

"i love you too!"

and that's the last thing you hear from him before going inside your room. voices echo through the hallway, coming from the two guest rooms. you hear them play various games to decide who wins the bed, yet when one side wins, they switch to a different game that benefits the other side. they stop only after you've brushed your teeth and changed into sleepwear. you hear multiple heavy footsteps passing by your door, then knocking.

"yes?" you say, looking at the door through the mirror. your fingers don't let go of the halfway braided hair as a head peeks in, eyes quickly scanning the room, then falling on you. you remember the man as wooyoung. he's the social butterfly of the group, that you've noticed.

"nice pj's, noona." he grins, shamelessly staring at your bottom. "pandas look very cute on you."

"wooyoung you come over here right fucking now." hongjoong, you think, warns him. you laugh, still looking at the young man standing at your door, now holding it open for everyone to see inside.

four of them are lined up behind him, trying to sneakily look inside. until hongjoong rushes them all downstairs, then points his finger at wooyoung with a stern look.

"out."

"whoops, gotta go. good night, noona."

the door closes with a loud thud, hongjoong's scolding still travelling through it. it doesn't feel the same when he calls you that. only seonghwa can do it properly. wooyoung seems to be using it in a flirting way, yet seonghwa... he seems genuine with it. he says it so sweetly, with respect. you find yourself excited about hearing it again tomorrow. and the day after it. and the whole week like that. so far, you're having a great time. you can't wait to see what surprises this week has for you.

after many plane pictures and more scolding from hongjoong and you all the way to the destination, you're finally gathered in front of the most vibrant sea you've ever seen in your life. your body soon falls face first into the mattress, as if you haven't been sitting and sleeping for hours until now. your friend, on the other hand, already had plans to dive into the endless turquoise heaven.

"come on, now. we didn't come to sleep." she throws a pillow at you, which you don't bother to avoid. it lands on your head and stays there, making her giggle. "we have all night to do that."

"if we have all night to sleep, when are you planning to get drunk and laid?" you mumble.

at the other bungalow, park seonghwa is cussing under his breath. he shouldn't have agreed to the trip right away. he should have seen you first. then, when he realizes just how hot you are and how difficult it is to maintain his polite attitude around you, he'd decline the invitation. now, he stands in front of the mirror, scolding himself for not going to the gym when his friends would ask him. and to think you'll see him shirtless at the beach for seven days straight?

then, he realizes. he will see you too. fuck, how will he survive it? to see you in a bikini, with your skin all exposed to the sun? with water drops sliding down your sun-kissed skin? what if you had a tattoo somewhere, like right above your panties on your back?

"seonghwa, are you going?"

his head follows the voice, face blank and brain suddenly frozen. "huh?"

wooyoung snickers, grabbing the deflated beach ball they had brought. "here, make yourself useful until you are capable of leaving this place in a normal shape."

he throws the plastic smelling item at seonghwa, who is now as red as the cocktail wooyoung is already slowly sipping. "it's not what you think-"

"we'll be outside, having fun. without you. bye!"

and just like that, park seonghwa is left alone in his shared bungalow, with a flat beach ball in his hands and a painful erection in his pants. maybe, just maybe, he could skip today.

his plan goes well, and he spends his free time collecting all the discarded sweaty clothes from the flight. carelessly thrown items around the place are now neatly organized on the dresser. he is now wearing a tank top, the one which makes his body look bigger and more formed. just in case he bumps into you. which he hopes he won't. not yet, at least.

he manages to clean the mess in the other bungalows, then proceeds to the last one: his sister and yours. he wonders how bad he would get scolded if he did a little cleaning inside. after all, his sister is a bigger mess than him. he stares at the opened suitcase, disapprovingly scanning the balled up clothes his sister had 'packed'. then, he sees yours. it is perfectly packed, corners neatly tucked so that you don't have to iron and creases won't form on the delicate materials. your side of the space is a drastic difference from his sister's, and it looks like something out of a cartoon.

voices travel to his ears, mingi's dominating. he goes deeper into the room, until he is standing at the other exit looking at the sea, with the net hanging above it. he has seen the view countless times on those influencer instagram accounts and pinterest, but witnessing it all first-hand is truly a breathtaking experience. no signs of sharks yet, though. luckily for him.

but the unlucky part is still here for seonghwa. he catches a glimpse of you in the deep water, your figure swallowed by the vibrant liquid, hiding your form from him. his eyes feel blurry, sudden heat spreading in his body. he's wondering what kind of swimwear you are wearing.

was it a one-piece? the one with the covered front but exposed back? the one exposed on both sides? the one with a deep cut? or the one with a regular cut but high leg? maybe it was a two-piece. maybe it was pastel, it would suit you. you seem like the type of girl to like soft themed things. or maybe you're like that just on the surface. maybe you liked fierce things, like a g-string and triangle top which barely covers your tits. or those panties that are tied up on the sides, and come off with just a pull of a single string.

he feels his swim shorts getting tight again. he looks down, hopeless. this whole trip is going to end him. the man turns around, trying to clear his head. but how is it possible, when he is standing in the middle of your belongings and he can clearly hear your laughter from outside? his eyes fall on your suitcase, again admiring your folding skills. he might have to take a few classes from you.

then, he spots the bikini section in the corner. his eyebrows raise in surprise at the amount you had packed. his fingers reach for the one on top, carefully pulling it out without disrupting the organisation of other items. a brasilian cut hangs from his finger in all its glory, the vibrant green taking all his focus. he spreads it, and exhales once he realizes how high it has to sit on your hips. the matching white top is indeed triangles, with extra long strings. will you wrap them all around your waist like he saw on instagram? or maybe you have your own creative ideas and you'll surprise him?

"seonghwa?"

caught red handed, he stands like a deer on a highway. he feels his knees go weak, barely holding his body up. he stuffs the panties in his pocket, and immediately curses himself. he couldn't have thrown them into the suitcase?

"seonghwa?" you call again, voice dripping honey as you say his name he suddenly loves.

"yes?" he says, voice raspy and tone uneven. he clears his throat, and runs his fingers through his hair. he tries to collect himself before you can see him this messy and flustered. but his cheeks become an even deeper crimson when you step into the room, colour almost matching your swimwear. he has to grit his teeth to keep his jaw from falling. but his eyes betray him. they shamelessly roam your body, taking in everything you are serving him. you're wearing a one-piece today, cuts sitting high up on your legs, and a deep cut going down to your belly button. your hair is falling over your tits, denying him a chance to be a complete creep right in front of you.

"you're missing all the fun." you pout, eyes big as you look up at him.

it takes every ounce in his body to not slam you right there and worship every inch of your body, from the food belly bump to the stretch marks decorated with water drops. he wished to hold your waist, to feel the wet fabric which stayed tight against your skin. he is breathless in front of you, and you haven't done anything but exist.

"seonghwa?" you say once again, calling him out of his fantasies.

"yes, noona?" he breathes out, hoping your eyes stay locked with his until the situation in his pants calms down.

"aren't you going to join us?"

no, i'd rather stay and stroke myself to death thinking about you.

"not today, sorry. i'm not feeling well."

he tries to leave the room, but your fingers press into his chest, pushing him back in front of you. just when he thinks you have discovered his plans and his little crime, he is confused once again. you press your palm on his forehead, then his cheeks. your brows furrow, and he subconsciously mimics your expression.

"well, you are hot. and not the it's summer kinda hot. maybe you should really stay." you say, disappointment evident in your voice.

the last thing he wanted to do is let down the person who made this whole trip and his erection happen. he closes his eyes for a moment, clearing his head as much as he can. "i'll come."

the smile you give him is enough to make him do whatever you want. you have him wrapped around your finger, and you don't even know it.

he spends the day laying in the sun, occasionally napping and waking up when cold water drops hit his hot skin and he feels a figure blocking the sun.

"you're ruining my vibes, san."

"oh, sorry, mr i'm horny for my sister's best friend."

seonghwa's eyes shoot open, and he sits up immediately. san giggles, searching his backpack near seonghwa's head. the man smacks his friend behind the head, resulting in a glare from him.

"stop saying dumb shit, you'll get me in trouble for nothing." he scolds.

san raises an eyebrow, eyes dropping to the man's crotch. seonghwa covers it with a t-shirt, cheeks burning from embarrassment once again.

"wouldn't call that thing a nothing. if anything, it's truly a something."

"you fucking weirdo, get out." seonghwa growls, head falling back on the beach towel. "as if i have any chance with her anyway."

little did he know, you had trouble keeping up the conversation with your friend. the way park seonghwa took off his tank top so sensually, exposing his defined figure so you can drool over it, had you pressing your thighs together underwater. you watch as he smacks his friend for something he has said, then briefly lock eyes with him. his gaze goes from sharp to soft so quickly, and you wonder if he is aware of how much impact his eyes have. awkwardly, you wave towards him, inviting him into the water. you're not sure if he has gotten the message, since he doesn't move from the beach towel. just when you start to shift your attention to the conversation going on near you, you see him stand up.

he steps into the water, shivering at the coldness. as hot as it was, he still felt uneasy entering it.

"ah, seonghwa decided to show up." wooyoung grins, throwing the ball his way.

you hear him cuss when water splashes him from the ball, and your thighs press again when he picks it up, an annoyed look on his face. the serious gaze has your stomach doing back flips, and by now you're sure that you're wet. all for your best friend's brother. you struggle to stop staring, hell, almost drooling, but when he glances at you one more time, you're almost sure that a smirk was on his lips. he then dives into the water, his figure disappearing completely for a few moments. you begin to worry, and you start to swim forwards in hopes you'll catch a glimpse of him somewhere. and then, you gasp.

park seonghwa resurfaces right in front of you, face to face. your jaw drops subconsciously, and if you weren't in deep water, you'd probably search for a place to sit. the young man opens his eyes, ignoring the burning from the salty water. maintaining eye-contact with you, he runs his fingers through his hair, slicking it back so that it doesn't bother him. you watch in awe as water drops glide down his golden cheekbones and lips, toned chest and arms, and you have to fight every urge in your body to not lean in and kiss him right there.

"hi, noona." his lips curve in a sweet smile, the one that has your heart beating a little too fast for two days now.

"seonghwa," you choke out, the poorest greeting that has ever come out of you.

"let's join them, shall we?"

you feel a light touch on the small of your back, and that's when you decide it's enough for today. it's only day one, and if you decide to ruin a vacation or a friendship, you'll do it on the last day. until then, you have to gain control over your body again.

"actually, i'm feeling a bit tired. "

a slight frown appears on seonghwa's face, almost barely noticeable. he pulls his hand back, and you want to whine at the loss of contact. it was only a second, yet you crave his whole existence. you want to feel him all over you, his warmth, his scent, the refreshing water beads and his firm hands on your waist as he fucks you into the hanging net, looking at the sunset over your shoulder. images form in your brain, one, two, three, four. then suddenly, a whole scenario. park seonghwa having you in the water. park seonghwa consuming you in your bungalow as you hide from his sister. park seonghwa making love to you in the moonlight in the shallow water. you breathe out, feeling your chest getting heavy with each thought that rushes through your brain.

"i'll see you at dinner tonight." you wave at the group, then swim past the man that squeezes the filthiest thoughts out of your brain without him even knowing.

you drop down on your bed, sprawled out like a starfish. you stare at the wooden ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. but how can you, when he looks so goddamn good in those beach shorts and his hair slicked back, with a few strands falling over his eyes? it's been long since you craved someone's touch. fuck, you don't think you've ever craved someone this much. you don't remember wishing for anyone to fuck you in any place you can think of.

meanwhile, seonghwa is busy hiding his frown from the group. you dragged him outside, just for you to run back inside. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass up until the moment you disappeared inside the bungalow. he stays away from his sister, afraid that she might somehow hear his thoughts and become angry. she cannot know about his feelings. nobody can. well, nobody else. his friends weren't blind, but they aren't the ones to rat out a person. it is a chance for seonghwa to stop on time and save his bond with his sister. he can't even begin to imagine the disaster that would happen if she ever knew. besides, you don't look at him that way. for god's sake, he used to fight you all the time as a kid, purposefully sneezing into your face just to see you freak out. he giggles with himself, remembering your angry and crying face while running to tell his mother.

"don't you think you should get out of the water?" the female voice interrupts his thoughts, and he looks at the group that has formed a circle and is playing with the beachball.

"no, why?" san ignores, throwing the ball seonghwa's way.

"everybody's lips are practically green. let me see your fingers. i bet they're pruney as fuck."

a round of protesting and finger examining later, the woman is forcing everybody but seonghwa out of the water. as she swims past him, she makes sure to ruffle his hair, giggling at the result.

"you can stay, but don't make it too long. i don't want you catching a cold on day one. and ruin my vibes."

"don't worry," seonghwa smiles, assuring her that he will obey.

he feels his muscles tighten, a familiar sweet pain forming and telling him that tomorrow will be hell for his body. he hasn't been active for a while, and a little swimming won't kill him. just make him unable to move. and so seonghwa swims, to the boats, to the shore, and towards the bungalows. he lays on his back, absorbing the sun rays and letting his brain roam. they go back to you every time, and it's starting to annoy him. why can't he accept that he can't have you? he must be just way too worked up. surely, he'd fuck anyone if given the chance. he can't possibly have these thoughts only about you. you're his sister's best friend, for fuck's sake. and, you're older than him, which makes it impossible in his head. how could he possibly please you, when he had the least experience in the group? he has only ever done sexual things with his first girlfriend, and since the breakup, he hasn't had any encounters with anyone else. what could he know about pleasing you? maybe you liked it rough? he only knew slow and romantic. though, he is willing to try, for you. did you like it messy and sloppy? or clean and organised? maybe you liked foreplay more.

"seonghwa!"

he opens his eyes, looking the way the voice is travelling. hongjoong is calling him, and just like that, he has to put his brain on hold. he cannot think about you. he mustn't.

"be right there!"

dinner came and went, with the young men ordering simple for day one and eating in the bungalows. you, on the other hand, have ordered the most complicated meal you could, and were now humming with each bite.

"this is better than dick." the woman next to you speaks, mimicking your reactions when eating.

"depends, whose."

"let's say, like, jeffrey dean morgan's."

your jaw drops, offended, "how dare you?"

"fine. mads mikkelsen?"

you nod approvingly. she's not right either way, but how could you possibly know? you haven't tried neither of the two. sadly.

"i need to talk to you." the tone is suddenly low, and the atmosphere is no longer relaxed.

you can feel the tension in the air. she leaves the plate, then turns to sit across from you so she can look at you while speaking.

"yes?" you ask, mimicking her actions.

"seonghwa."

fuck, did she realise what was going on with you? was she going to tell you to stay away from him? was she going to threaten you?

"what about him?" you act stupid, innocently looking into your friend's eyes while the most sinful thoughts roam your head.

"he's a little, like, awkward and antisocial. he gets nervous around pretty girls, and, well, you're one hell of a pretty woman. maybe you could strike up a conversation with him? just to let him know that you're a normal person and he can behave normally around you. without all formal labeling and all that crazy shit he has been doing since he saw you. i mean, noona? seriously?"

that you did not expect. her to encourage you to talk to park seonghwa. you hold back a smile. being too enthusiastic won't look good, and will only make her more suspicious.

"i'll try, sure. but i won't force him into anything."

and you meant it. you won't force him into anything, if you decide to make a move at all. any sign of discomfort, you'll back away. you don't need that. and neither does he.

it isn't long until you have to wake up early, get ready and follow your friend. her part of the vacation was to take canoes and swim towards a little nearby island a few minutes away. good booze and hot guys, she said. so you go, all dolled up in your black bikini that ties up around your waist, and a black lace kimono draped over your shoulders. the young men trail behind you, and you can't help but imagine seonghwa sneakily glancing at your figure. doesn't hurt anyone to daydream.

"here we are. five teeny weeny canoes, two people per one." the woman points towards the famous clear canoes, the ones that allow you to see what you're rowing over. "mingi, come on."

"me?" the man stutters, but doesn't question it any longer when she grabs his wrist and pulls him in the water.

they all hop inside, leaving seonghwa and you still in the sand. the water splashes your legs, refreshing waterbeads inviting, along with the scorching sun. it finally smells like proper summer.

"noona, i think i'm feeling unwell again." he tries, already turning around.

without thinking, you grab his arm, your nails subconsciously digging into his sun kissed skin. he turns around, eyes wide. like a deer on a highway looking at the car in front of it, he stands and waits for something to happen.

"you're not going anywhere. come on, now. hop inside."

seonghwa gulps, his skin burning where your fingers touch him. the sight of your bright summer nails digging into his skin awoke a volcano inside of him, lust spreading in his body slowly and burning, like magma waiting to erupt. you put so little effort, yet you had him harder than he has ever been. he wonders if you'd dig your nails like that when he eats you out. seonghwa is weak just thinking about it; you sprawled out just for him to feast on. his cheeks are already flushed, and he begs heavens to help him erase those thoughts. but how can he get rid of them, when you stand there in front of him, in all your glory? he watches you climb into the little boat, and he has no other choice but to join you. he sits behind you, letting you take control of the rowing and only holding his paddles.

"so, tell me what you've been up to all these years I haven't seen you."

"well, I haven't been up to much. lots of studying, a little less absences, almost perfect grades. it's going fine."

he hears you hum, and he wonders what else you will question him. whatever it is, he must impress you.

"no girls?"

so much for impressing you.

"no," he mumbles, shyly dropping his head, "i'm not that desired."

his breath hitches when you throw your head back so you can look at him, position somehow a huge turn on. "not that desired?"

"y-yeah, I mean," he scratches his neck, avoiding eyecontact, "none of them ever showed interest. I had, like, one girlfriend, and that went horribly."

you hum again, then get back to rowing and following the rest of the group. he now follows your movements, silently moving in sync and definitely not looking at your ass.

"why? if I may know." you push, desperate to know how no girl could want someone like him.

"I guess I'm just a pretty face. she wasn't satisfied with, well, anything. not with the way I communicated, not with the way I ate, sat, studied, even breathed."

he opens up like a book in your hands, ranting about all the times she was angry with him for the most ridiculous reasons, and was at one point just searching for ways to make him leave her so she wouldn't feel guilty. so that's what seonghwa did, with his heart shattered by his first love, who he thought would be his last too. he was the bad guy, yet he didn't do anything wrong.

"oh, can she complain. is there anything that didn't bother her?"

instantly, seonghwa's cheeks go red, and he stutters. you stop rowing, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder.

"seonghwa?"

"well, she always said I, uh," he stops, thinking about whether to tell you, "it's stupid."

you scoff, not believing anything he has to say is stupid. with great difficulties and lots of slipping, you try to turn around towards him, so you can look at him while you talk. your eyes widen with horror when your leg slips on the wet inside of the canoe, hands desperately reaching out for anything for support. you weren't ready for a swim yet.

just in time, the young man reaches forwards, firmly planting his hands on your waist and stabilising your figure. his cheeks are a deep crimson, eyes wide with realisation at the way he's touching you. you don't move, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the man in front of you.

"she said I had skilled hands," he whispers, subconsciously rubbing his thumb against your skin.

it pains you that you can't just lean in and kiss him right there. if only it were that simple.

"like- like massages, right?" you offer him a way out, gently removing his hands. "and, well, catching things."

"yeah," he laughs, awkwardly looking at the water surrounding you.

"in that case, I could use that little skill of yours."

seonghwa goes red again, and you fight the urge to laugh. he is crumbling in front of you, so small and gentle despite his figure being much bigger than yours. you don't remember ever having this feeling of the upper hand. it is new, and it's setting your whole body on fire. your fingers yearn to move that strand of hair that has fallen over his pretty eyes.

"I could use a massage."

and with a wink, you start rowing again, this time staying in the other position and facing him.

the day is loud and quick. wooyoung is tipsy, hongjoong has embarrassed himself three times already, and san is almost desperate for the waitress that had the thinnest waist you've ever seen in your life. right away, your appetite is gone. your gaze drops down to your body, suddenly feeling heavy and stuffed. everyone is already at their second plate from the buffet, and you're still playing with the one from an hour ago.

"noona?" 

when you don't respond, because you know just what they will tell you, you feel a soft touch under the table on your ankle. you raise your head, ready to scold wooyoung for inappropriate touching. but then you see seonghwa's worried gaze, eyes big and shiny as he looks at you, then your plate. nobody else is paying attention, half of them having stood up to do karaoke and make complete fools out of themselves.

"is it not tasty? do you want to exchange plates?"

you look at his plate filled with fruit, and it looks much more acceptable than your grease filled plate. just what were you thinking?

"I'll just try something..." you reach towards it, stabbing into a mango,"...if i may?"

he smiles, his eyes somehow prettier when he does so. you are mesmerized, and you feel like you've been staring at him for hours. you wouldn't mind doing so, when he is a walking sculpture.

"of course you may, noona. that is why i offered."

"you know, you don't have to call me noona. you can call me by my name."

"i'm not sure i can do that."

"sure you can. try it."

he stuffs his mouth with fruit, pointing towards it as an excuse for not speaking. you laugh, watching him cutely chew and wiggle his legs under the table in the process.

"cute," you say, getting up to empty your plate.

you don't miss the way he stops eating for a while, ears and cheeks a matching red with the strawberries on his plate.

it is past midnight when you hear water splashing, and taking the nosiness from your parents, you have to get up and see what is going on. you stand at the edge of the opened glass doors, scanning the night view. the sky is clear, and no light pollution allows you to see millions of shiny dots sprinkled on it. one particular shiny dot reminds you of the way his eyes sparkle, and you catch yourself just in time before diving further into the thoughts. you've spent too much time thinking of him, and it's not doing any good to you. not when everything is starting to remind you of him.

your gaze drops on the figure in the water, and you curse under your breath. still, it's a hot night, and a perfect opportunity for you to relax without the group swarming around you like usual. it doesn't take long to change into a bikini, careful not to wake up your sleeping roommate. but even if she knew, she was the one who asked you to talk to him. so that's what you'll do. talk.

you sit in shallow water, and watch the moonlight caress his skin. he swims, back and forth, disappears under the water once in a while. then, when he comes back to the surface, he throws his head back, runs his fingers through his hair and rubs his eyes from ocean salt. whatever is clouding his mind, he could really use a conversation.

just when you want to step into the water and join him, he turns his head, eyes locking with yours. he dives in again, this time staying there longer. but after yesterday, you trust him. he doesn't need you panicking when he was simply searching for a calm swim.

even though he did it once already, when he resurfaces right in front of you, repeating the hair motion you so intensely watched, not once breaking eye-contact, you can't help but shamelessly stare.

"seonghwa," you greet, lips curving upwards and mimicking his smile.

"noona," he says, not moving a muscle.

his hands are firmly pressed in the sand, holding his body so that he is hovering in the water. you have your knees pressed to your chest, the beach lace cardigan loosely hanging off your shoulders.

"what's on your mind?" you ask.

your chin rests on your knees, hands hugging your legs as you examine his facial expressions. the young man sighs, and the smile fades away. he drops his head, thinking of ways to lie to your face.

"seonghwa," you call.

when he doesn't respond, you place your hand under his chin, gently lifting it so that he can look at you. he is surprised at the sudden contact, not hiding it in the slightest. big irises match the starry sky, an endless sparkle and mystery.

"talk to me, love."

and just how was he supposed to tell you he went for a cold swim to calm his erection? it has been difficult for two days now, and he can't take care of himself. not with so many people around him. not with you right near him.

"is it the girls talk?"

"no, no, of course not." he quickly denies, trying to move away from you.

"stay there," you ask, your other hand firmly placed on his bare shoulder. "i quite like this position."

you indeed like it; him laying in front of you, looking at you from below, and you having him right there in your hand, completely vulnerable.

"now, tell me. is it the girls talk on the canoe?"

"maybe."

"maybe?" you raise an eyebrow, thumb subconsciously rubbing his jawline.

"i don't know how to please a girl," he blurts out. "i guess my hopes were too high for this trip."

"don't be silly, sure you do."

he snorts, tearing his gaze away. "you wouldn't understand."

"why is that?"

"you're telling me that a girl would enjoy an inexperienced man? imagine me taking one home, just for her to find out i can't even put it in."

you bite the inside of your cheek. you think, for what seems like an hour. he lays there, water caressing his bare torso, eyes looking up at you for further comfort. you cup his cheeks, your brain coming to a stop and letting your heart gain control.

"noona?" he stutters, eyes dropping down on your lips.

"there's more to it than just putting it in, seonghwa."

he is a blabbering mess, defending himself and saying that he knows, it was just a saying. you let him speak, watching his plump lips move as he struggles to put a sentence together. your intense gaze isn't helping his messy state at all, and he decides to simply give up. he drops his head again, a sigh escaping his lips.

"tell me, would you waste your time with someone who can't even kiss?"

"if i'm a little fond of that person, yes."

he looks up at you, expression unreadable. his silence gives you encouragement, and you lean back and slowly peel your legs open. you feel feverish, watching his parted lips and gaze fixed on your body. the night is calm, water climbing up and down the shore, caressing seonghwa's toned back. you would be lying if you said that the simple touch on his shoulder didn't make you all worked up. he was warm, firm, inviting to bite and scratch. his eyes follow up your body, and stop at your bikini top. the lace slides down your arms, pooling in the sand and giving him a free view.

"come closer," you whisper.

when he fails to move, your hand raises his head once again so he can look into your eyes.

"you need to touch,"

your hand grabs his wrist, pulling it out of the water and placing it on your hip.

"you need to get close,"

you tug at his bicep, inviting him out of the water and closer to you.

"you need to feel,"

you drag his hand up your leg, over the edge of your briefs, and place it on your side. he comes out of the water, hovering over you and holding his body up with his free hand. slowly, you lay back into the sand, giving him space so he can comfortably lay over you.

"you need to want it."

"i want it," he whispers into your lips, holding himself back.

"then come and get it."

a groan leaves his mouth, and he is eager to grab your waist with both of his hands. his wet skin against your dry one makes you shiver, cold water drops rolling from his body onto yours. his plush lips press into yours, gently taking in your bottom lip and giving it a soft caress with his tongue. he repeats it, giving sweet kisses and equal attention to both lips. his fingers dig into your waist, the nervous feeling spreading over his body and making it painfully obvious. you place your arms around his neck, fingers creeping into his wet hair and giving his scalp a gentle scratch. you swipe your tongue over his bottom lip, tasting salty water. he pulls away, face flushed and lips plump.

"feel me up, seonghwa," you drag the tips of your fingers and nails down his arms, down to his lower back, and back up to his shoulders, "like this."

he shivers at the sensation, and without a single further touch yet, he is already growing hard thinking of ways he could feel you.

"don't think too much."

peeling himself off of you, he kneels between your spread legs. your eyes close, you know you can trust him. a sigh of sensation leaves your lips, feeling his hands almost hovering over your sides, stomach, and down your legs. he makes his way back up, feeling every inch you had to offer him.

"want to add another pair of panties to your little collection?" you tease, a smirk dancing on your lips.

"w-what?" he stutters, his hands stopping at your hips.

"you think i wouldn't notice i'm missing one of my favorite panties?"

you hear no response. you eyes peel open, lazily looking into his scared ones. it is so adorable how new he is to all of this, and so hot that you get to teach him about it. you have him on his knees, quite literally, and it feels like you've been given a puppy for training. and you just can't wait.

"you can keep them, don't worry. i'll get rid of these too." you raise an eyebrow, and place his hand on the waistband. "soon, i hope."

he doesn't move. his cheeks are flaming, and the tips of his ears even worse. he looks lost. a whole feast in front of him, and yet he doesn't know where or when to start.

"there are too many clothes in the way, don't you think?" you help him out, reaching behind to pull at the string that is holding your bikini top.

you drag his hand up your body, resting it on the crease between your breasts. he gulps, loud. it makes you chuckle, and makes him look away.

"seonghwa," you call.

"yes?"

"you don't want it." 

"i do—"

not so gently anymore, you grab his jaw, tilting his head back towards you and pulling him close. he shivers at your nails digging into his cheeks, and to say that he wasn't drowning in lust from your stern look and tone would be the lie of the century.

"then fucking take it."

his hands cup your breasts, exploring the softness and size of them. he massages them, watching your face and searching for a sign that he is doing it right. but you only lay down, eyes closed, not a single sound leaving your pretty lips.

he pulls at the bikini triangles, exposing your chest to the warm night and himself. he cups them again, this time thumbs rolling your nipples. you merely hum, and look at him through half closed eyelids. he has gotten closer, eyes examining your sensitive buds and the way his fingers played with them.

"tongue, baby," you say, holding back moans. "nipples are sometimes more sensitive than the clit, and you have to— oh, yes, just like that."

seonghwa is good at listening, that you are familiar with. he drags his wet muscle over your tense bud, then again, and again. he takes care of you with soft kitten licks, occasionally taking the bud between his lips and gently sucking.

"look at me."

his eyes lock with yours, hazy with lust. you watch as he rolls your nipples between his lips and fingers, sending gentle waves of pleasure through your body. he moves to the other one, giving it equal attention. your hips subconsciously buck into his knee, searching for friction. he pulls away, letting his fingers work. he slowly touches you, teases your sensitive area as slow as he can. he enjoys taking it slow, that you've noticed. you wish you could orgasm from just nipple teasing, but it isn't that easy.

"am i doing it right?" he asks, massaging you as he pinches your buds with his fingers.

"of course, baby."

"i'm not getting any reactions from you," he frowns, hands dropping back on your waist.

"well, we have just started. you need to work me up, give me a little attention before the real thing."

"real thing?" he stutters. "we are having sex tonight?"

"not tonight." you assure him, and almost laugh when you see him sigh with relief. "keep going."

he follows your instructions, dragging his hands to your waist and hooking his fingers into the waistband.

"you have to feel first."

he stops to do exactly what you have told him. his fingers dip between your legs, and press into your warm crotch. due to the thin material, he can feel your bottom lips through the panties. it makes him bite his lip to keep him from groaning. he slides his fingers up and down, hoping to get a noise or two from you. when he doesn't, he lowers his body so that he is hovering over your crotch. he moves the panties aside, immediately tasting you and catching you off guard. your hand reaches towards his hair, fingers grabbing at the strands as he rolled your bud between his lips. his tongue teases the tip of the clit, spinning it in circles and making your hips buck into his lips.

"press a little harder, baby," you encourage, pushing his head into your skin.

when he delivers a particularly strong lick, followed by a suck, you moan. your thighs close around his face, and when his arms grab them and force you to spread your legs for him, you lose it. you are a moaning mess, his dominant side coming out of him without him even noticing. you want him to be rough with you, to snap his hips into yours hard, to mercilessly overstimulate you, to kiss you while he stuffs you with his cock.

something about watching him give your clit slow kitten licks is throwing you into a whole different world. he has his hand placed on your lower stomach, tugging at the skin so that he can reach your clit better. placing his fingers on your soaking folds, he looks up at you, finally satisfied with the results.

he rubs you in circles, slow, then fast, then licks you a few more times. he tugs your clit between his lips, tongue swirling around it and fingers spreading your folds as he does so. nobody has ever eaten you out with such passion, and seeing him make out with your bottom lips only makes you want to take him into your mouth until he is begging you to stop.

your orgasm announces its arrival, pooling at the bottom of your stomach and waiting to erupt.

"seonghwa," you gasp.

he hums, eyes still locked with yours. you yank at his hair, trying to pull his head away from you before you can cum on his tongue. but he is much stronger than you, and much more stubborn than you. another gasp leaves your mouth, and your arms find themselves planted in the sand, your wrists firmly trapped in his hands. your legs are clenching around his head, and after a few minutes of making it difficult for him, he presses his knee against your thigh. you are trapped under his firm grip, your most sensitive spots completely at the mercy of his soft lips and hot tongue.

"seonghwa—" you choke out, orgasm swallowing your body and lifting it up from the sand.

you shake in his hands, body working on the waves of pleasure ripping through your figure and blinding your vision. you don't even notice that your hands are now free, and his are pressed on your thighs again. he is doing his best to help you ride it out, generously giving your folds soft kisses and an occasional graze with his tongue. he admires your face from below, taking in every reaction you have to offer him. your body shakes in his hands, aftershocks of pleasure still very much active. your shallow breathing and quiet gasps fill his ears, and his brain makes sure to remember this picture of you forever.

he doesn't know whether you're faking it or he really did it, but he knows for sure that the way your wet hole clenches around nothing is making his cock twitch in his pants. he isn't far from cumming; one stroke from you and he would be done. and humiliated.

you look down, finally capable of forming a sentence other than "fuck" and "oh shit". seonghwa plants a final kiss on your lower stomach, then proceeds to press his body above you one more time.

"did i do good?" he asks, worry taking over his features.

"no."

his eyes widen, and his cheeks become a deep crimson which you can see even in the dark. something snaps inside of you, seeing his vulnerable and innocent state. originally, you wanted to tell him that he did better than good. but to have the upper hand and break him little by little, until he snaps and takes you from behind and fills you up with his seed? sounds way more inviting. how mean.

"it was okay," you caress his cheek, eyes roaming his pretty face, "but a woman needs more than just an orgasm."

"i rushed." he realizes.

"you rushed." you confirm, then push him off of you.

he almost whines at the loss of contact, but he has embarrassed himself enough for one night. he was so eager to make you moan and cum on his tongue, that he didn't think further. what if he has blown the single chance he had to impress you? what if you had hopes for him, but he let you down, and now you don't wish to try anything with him anymore?

the words are stuck in his throat, refusing to leave. he wants to say so much, but afraid that he might ruin this little dignity he has, he settles for watching you stand up and get dressed. the lace cardigan slides on your body just right, hiding your curves and only exposing your chest. he wonders how you can just stand up and move on, like you didn't shake in his hands just minutes ago.

"was this just a lesson for me?" his voice almost cracks behind you. "like, a one time thing?"

when you only spare him a glance over your shoulder, then start walking back to the bungalows, he falls into the sand. he spreads his arms and legs, imitating a starfish, and helplessly looks at the night sky. one chance, and he blew it. it isn't his fault you caught him off guard. he wasn't ready. he swears he could do so much more, if only you would've let him one more time. he curses himself for being impatient, and more stubborn than obedient. though, he is always obedient when it comes to you, his stubborn side had to find a way to make an appearance tonight.

his head falls to the side, eyes following your figure as you walk away from the shore. he is tired, from thinking more than swimming or, well, pleasuring you. though the latter didn't take long.

"fucking idiot."

another day passes, spent in the town center exploring street food and sweets. you buy souvenirs, all sorts of them. even the overpriced little magnets. you must have them all. the boys are filming everything, from the making of the ice cones to your face devouring it. you ride rented motorcycles, wooyoung holding onto your waist and screaming into your ear whenever you speed up. your friend catches up soon, holding onto her brother whose gaze only focused on the road in front of him.

the rest trail behind, ice cones in their mouth and tongues stuck out proud and green from the kiwi flavor. the whole time you've spent together, seonghwa stays aside, avoiding you at all costs. it is only when they go separate ways that he spares you a glance, much like you did to him last night. only his eyes are big and yearning, but yours were cold and uninviting.

you bite your cheek, watching as he licks the ice cone the boys have gotten for him. he isn't aware of his sensual way of eating it, and you hope his sister isn't aware of you staring at it.

you shop until you collapse, your bed suddenly the most comfortable place on Earth. you aren't sure how you'll fit all the items in the suitcase, but you'll leave the worrying part for the last day.

you now stand in front of the mirror, putting the clip in your hair and thinking whether or not you're satisfied with your appearance. even if you weren't, there was no time to change anything. you just had to obey your impatient friend.

eager to get drunk and laid, she orders shots, finishing four by the time you've only done one. she is tipsy and leaning into you, trying to tell you something over the loud club music. you laugh, hoping that she didn't ask a question. you simply don't have the energy to figure out what she is trying to say.

the boys are scattered on the dance floor, mainly making fools out of themselves and each other, trying to get most of this vacation. girls look at them, more with interest than worry because of their behaviour. you spot four familiar heads on the dance floor, and three are sitting on the couch with the two of you. the eighth one is missing.

"where's seonghwa?" you ask, trying to look and sound as careless as possible.

"we made him go to the bar." says san.

"yeah, he seriously needs to get laid."

the boys laugh at hongjoong's words, and even your friend giggles. but you don't find anything funny in that. your eyes roam the bar, in hopes to find the fluffy wavy hair and a pair of big shiny eyes. your neck hurts, raising your head every time someone gets close to the table, in hopes that it's seonghwa. but seonghwa is nowhere to be seen. until you stand up and make your way through the dance floor towards the bar.

you spot him, leaning on the bar with a drink in his hand. the girl in front of him is twirling the ends of her hair, hips swaying with the beat. your teeth sink into your cheek, keeping yourself from acting up. then, she reaches towards his hair, feeling the softness much like you did last night.

"noona!"

the voice comes from behind you, and a pair of arms touch your sides.

"wooyoung," you greet, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck.

fuck seonghwa. he's not yours. he can talk to whoever he wants to. and you're not his. so when wooyoung presses his lips against yours, you don't complain. his lips are hot against yours, and when comparing to seonghwa, much more skilled and confident. his hand grips your waist, pressing you into his firm body as he does body rolls to the beat of the music.

"fuck, noona, you're so hot." he groans into your mouth.

"am i now?" you tease, placing your hands on his and sliding them down to your ass.

"are you kidding me? with your hair in a clip like that, and your lip gloss, and your thongs sticking out of these incredibly tight jeans? i could just—"

"wooyoung."

the grip on your ass is gone, and the heated moment between you two is shattered. your eyes stare at seonghwa's side profile, watching his jaw clench as he tells wooyoung he needs you for a minute. the younger man removes his hands from your body, and then looks at you.

you don't get to protest, your wrist already in his hand and your legs following him outside.

"hey, what the fuck? let go of me!"

and he does let go. but when he does, it is by slamming you against the wooden wall of the club.

"how can you calmly kiss my friend like that after humiliating me last night?"

you take your time to admire him properly. he is wearing one of those over worn hawaiian shirts, all buttons undone and a single necklace resting on his sun kissed neck. he smells like sun protection and aftershave, and his hair is fluffier than usual.

"do you want to break me? do you want to see me at my lowest?"

"i don't know what you're talking about, seonghwa. go back inside."

"what, does he kiss better?" he bites the inside of his cheek, and his jaw clenches a lot more than usual.

"he does have more experience." you remain calm, a monotone tone leaving your lips when you speak to him. "this is all just fun. we're doing this for fun. nothing serious involved."

"then," he reaches forwards, cupping your face," let me fuck you. for fun."

"what? no."

you push him away once again, and start walking away. he gets deja vu, but this time, he speaks up.

"why? you were just seconds away from sitting on wooyoung's cock. why is it a problem when it's me?"

you turn around, still walking backwards towards the entrance. he is almost drunk, and surely doesn't know what he is saying.

"you're just not that type."

"not that type?"

"you know. you're soft. you don't fuck. you make love."

and you can't make love right now. you want him to break you, fuck you in positions that have you helpless and gripping at his built body, to make you beg for mercy as he drives you to your fifth orgasm.

and there he is, again, standing alone, helpless and horny. his legs carry him inside again, to the bar, and back to the girl he wasn't even interested in. he leans in, mimicking wooyoung's moves he did on you. when the girl moans in his mouth, it gives him a boost of confidence. he just hopes you sit there somewhere, watching this unfold.

"fuck, wanna take this outside?" she gasps, hips rolling into his.

seonghwa doesn't need to be told twice. he is thrown on one of the beach chairs, the girl already on her knees in front of him. he breathes heavily, heart beating so hard he swears it could jump out any moment. the alcohol in his veins made it impossible for him to be uncomfortable from the company around him. they didn't even flinch. situations like these are a regular occurrence for them.

"oh, shit, you're huge."

his cheeks burn at the compliment. the first few licks make seonghwa twitch in his sleep, but by the time she has him in his mouth, he is passed out. he was at the verge when he pressed you against that wall, and if he had just drunk two shots less, he would've proved that he can do better than you think.

in the morning, he finds himself wrapped in clean white sheets. he blinks slowly, his eyes getting used to the strong light.

the surroundings are unfamiliar, and for a second, he fears that he might've slept with the girl from last night. but when he sees your almost bare figure in front of him, back turned and hair falling over your shoulders, he silently gasps. that can't be true. he didn't sleep with you. did he?

he checks under the cover, and becomes even more confused when he sees he is fully dressed.

"i didn't sleep with you, seonghwa." you answer before he manages to put a sentence together.

"she did sleep with me, however."

"wooyoung." you warn.

seonghwa sits up on the bed, and looks around the room. wooyoung is also sitting on the bed. your bed. seonghwa sighs, feeling his heart tighten. he looks at you through the mirror, where you stood to fix your bikini. you catch him staring, and your lips twitch into a smirk when seeing his flustered expression.

"headache?"

"what am i doing here if we didn't sleep together?" he asks, the alcohol in him still a little active.

"first, you were passed out with a girl all over you, so i brought you to my bed since your sister spent the night with some guy anyway. second, i would never sleep with a drunk guy. at least not that drunk."

"can't believe you fell asleep mid blow job." wooyoung teases, glancing at his older friend.

"well, if it was any good, i doubt he would've fallen asleep." you come to rescue, deciding that he has suffered enough teasing for the morning. "right?"

"right," seonghwa agrees, scratching his neck.

"luckily, that's not the case with you, noona."

"wooyoung, get out."

"of course, baby."

seonghwa is now alone with you, eyes still trailing up your body. somehow, even though his friend had you before him, he still wants you just as bad as the day before.

"he's bluffing, don't listen to him."

"is he, though?"

you sigh. you did have fun with wooyoung last night, but it didn't go to the point of having sex. even though it was very hard to keep your hands off him. he is passionate, and rough, just how you like it.

"go get dressed, seonghwa. we are leaving soon."

"why won't you fool around with me, just like you did with him?"

his words make you sigh again. you leave your lip-gloss on the dresser, then sit on the bed.

"you don't ask. you just start it, then see where it gets you. i gave you the green light for that. but i told you last night, and i'll tell you again. i realize you're just not the type. you're too soft for me."

"then teach me."

at this point, he has no regrets and refuses to be embarrassed. he wants wooyoung's confidence, his passion for sexual activities, and his charm. all he has is a figure, which is not enough to satisfy you.

"teach you?"

"yes."

"you're out of your mind, seonghwa."

you have him right where you wanted him. right in your hand, like a marionette. you decide his moves, and he obeys, like the cute little doll he is.

"noona," he whispers, desperation dripping from his lips like sweetest honey, "please."

your fingers reach towards the loose strands of hair falling over his glossy eyes. neatly tucking them behind his ear, you bring his face close to yours.

"this time," your lips brush against his as you speak, "listen to what i say. if i say stop, you stop. got it?"

"got it." he nods.

"good."

as slow and soft as possible, you press your lips into his. he exhales, relaxing further into your hands. you are one step away from pushing him back on the bed, and all it takes is just a touch from him. ironically, as if he hears you, he rests his hands on your waist, and you don't resist anymore. you push him on the mattress, laying flat against his warm body.

"your boobs are soft." he comments, noticing the way they are pressed against his chest.

"aw, thanks, bub."

so easy to make him blush. he kisses you this time, tongue hungrily searching for yours. he hums when you finally give in, allowing him to take in the taste of you.

"hey, anyone seen my brother? did he come back last night?"

you pull away, jumping to the other side of the room to buy yourself time to fix your hair and put on a beach kimono, back turned towards him. you glance at seonghwa over your shoulder, and it is enough to make your heart flutter. he is flustered, eyes shiny and big as he panics while his sister's voice is becoming louder and louder. his lips shine from your lip gloss, and his hair is a fluffy mess. oh, you want to have him squirming and milking in your hands.

"ah, there you are! i've- woah, what happened here?"

"not what it looks like-" seonghwa stutters, but you are quick to interrupt.

"he is feeling a bit feverish from last night. he fell asleep in sweaty clothes with the window open."

too hung over to think, she waves it off, turning towards her suitcase in a search for a bikini for today's adventure.  you hear seonghwa exhale, and you turn around to wink at him. he seems calmer, seeing how relaxed you are.

"seonghwa, now that you're feeling better, you want to go and get ready?"

"huh? oh, yes. yes, of course."

you watch him as he tries his best to hide the bulge in his pants, eyes full of panic as he walks away hoping his sister doesn't turn around.

"see you, honey."

"see you, noona."

he leaves the room, and you see him through the window picking up his pace and running into his own. you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face, watching his messy hair bounce, and his hand wipe off the lip gloss from his lips.

"what an idiot." his sister comments, sitting on the bed and carelessly taking off her top and bra.

"aw, come on. he's being such a good boy, why are you calling him that?"

"noona? seriously? he is a piece of shit to me, and he is so nice to you. that asshole."

"he's cute, let him be."

she makes a mocking face your way, then starts to get dressed.

the day is hotter than ever. you are laying in the shades of nature, yet you are sweating so bad that you might actually get into water. you don't feel like it today. you just want to lay down on the fancy beach chair, hiding under your big sun hat, and daydream. about seonghwa.

"you know, i met a guy last night, and let me tell you! his friend is drop dead gorgeous. i told him about you."

you scoff, but don't give any other reaction. you know where she is going with that.

"what? not interested?" she questions.

you laugh, taking the hat from your face and placing it properly on your head. you glance over at the boys, who sat down just beneath you on the bright shark towels. seonghwa is busy squeezing his hair, and doesn't yet realize that you are shamelessly staring at him.

"not really, no," you finally answer, tone disinterested and distant.

"wasn't your plan to have a one night stand of your lifetime on this vacation?"

that seems to pick up seonghwa's attention. he sits down, acting unbothered as he opens his bag of candied almonds. his side eye is very obvious to you though, and his cuteness only increases when you notice small things like that.

"that still stands."

"well?"

"well, i think i already have my eye on someone. someone... younger."

"oh?"

the young man turns his head slightly, just enough to look at you without his sister noticing. you wink at him, and when he blushes, you can't help but smile proudly. you've never had a man behave so giddy because of you, and you are living for it.

"who's the lucky guy?"

"i'm not too sure if he's interested in me yet."

seonghwa turns towards you in disbelief, as if trying to ask you how you could think such a thing. but seeing the playful glint in your eyes, he relaxes.

"can i have one?" you ask, pointing at the candied almonds.

"sure," he mutters, turning the bag towards you.

you wink at him again, before opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out a little. his cheeks are the usual red, eyes wide and frantically looking over at his sister and friends. but none of them really pay attention. even if they do, the sight would simply seem playful to them. after all, they do not know about your secret little interactions.

he carefully aims the single almond towards your mouth, and when you so flawlessly catch it, you could've sworn that his jaw had dropped just a little. he is feeding your ego, and he won't regret it.

"good boy," you mouth, hoping he would catch it.

he does, his eyes wide in shock. you love getting reactions from him.

time is slow, the boys having lost interest in the sea and opting to play games and bickering on the towels. the sun is still high up in the sky, not yet ready to end the day. you cannot stop ogling at seonghwa, who is currently trying to doze off but is constantly bugged by something.

"what is it, ddeong?"

ddeong? that's very cute.

"my head really hurts. i wanted to take a nap but it's pounding so bad." he complains, rubbing his temple.

"guess it's your lucky day, because my bestie here gives the best scalp massages."

oh, right. you do. that's so clever, and she doesn't even know it.

"yeah, why don't you come over and i'll show you?" you ask, as innocently as you can.

glancing over at wooyoung and seeing his smirk, you know he knows. the dipshit knows everything. but he isn't the type to rat you out. you hope.

seonghwa stands up, cluelessly looking at you and trying to figure out how to do this.

"sit down, silly." you pat the space in the sand between your legs.

he finally sits, slowly resting his back on the edge of the beach chair and closing his eyes. there, you have him right between your legs, in your hands. not the way you want, but you can still work your magic. his hair is soft between your fingers, and you swear you've never felt such hair on a man before. seonghwa is very neat, that you've noticed. not like all those men that you've dated. it feels nice to have someone so clean and pretty in your hands.

he sighs as you put pressure on his scalp, nails softly grazing him. he is having the time of his life, and you can't help but smile when he lets his head fall back, resting on the chair between your thighs. so close to your already leaking cunt. wonder if he can feel it.

"feeling better?" you ask, seeing that he isn't doing anything aside from breathing.

he doesn't answer. you continue your motions, watching his features carefully. he has the prettiest pink lips, and the most perfect eyebrows. he is just so... fresh. and young.

"seonghwa?" you call again.

no answer. you tug at a strand of hair gently, jolting him awake. what you didn't expect was the whine that escaped his lips, and you find yourself trying to squeeze your thighs together. he realizes his mistake, and looks at you with horror.

"y-yes?" he stutters.

"uh, i just-"

you are at a loss for words. he is so unintentionally submissive, it is driving you crazy. 

"i think i'll go in the water."

and just like that, he grabs a floatie you had brought and almost runs to the water. your eyes follow his poor attempts at climbing the armchair shaped floatie, his hands continuously slipping from the water and slippery surface. he tries a few more times, until he almost gets it, but ends up falling back into the water and flipping the floatie upside down.

"god, what an idiot." his sister scoffs, putting on her sunglasses and hiding under her book.

"aw, stop. i'm gonna go help him." you laugh fondly, eager to get alone time with him.

"don't waste your time. jesus, look at him. i can't take it, please poke my eyes out."

you also wish to poke your eyes out. seonghwa is surrounded by three or four girls, all of them making sure he's okay, laughing and being all touchy with him. you're not liking that. you're not liking the way their nails are grazing his arms, while he is still processing what is going on around him. he is clueless, and only awkwardly smiles with them. for a split second, his eyes land on you, as if asking for help. but then he looks away, back to the girls, and relaxes. his mouth moves, and the girls go into a laughing fit. just what is he doing? he isn't that funny.

"huh. how about that. my brother can rizz up girls?"

"no offence, but nobody uses that word anymore." wooyoung chips in, and earns himself a smack on the back of his head.

"shut up. seriously though, look at him. and four at once? wait, where are you going?"

you almost throw the hat and kimono at your friend, and fix your hair. hell no.

"hey? i thought you aren't getting into the water today! why is everyone so weird today?" her voice is becoming distant, and the ones in front of you are getting louder.

ha-ha, so funny. you are dying to know just what it is that have them drooling over him and forcing their laugh.

"hwa?" you call, lowering your sunglasses just enough so he can look into your eyes.

"uh, yes?" he answers, completely smitten.

oh, yes.

if someone were to film you, the scene would really look like one from a movie where the rich older woman is seducing her pool boy, all while her husband is working up in his bedroom. and you like it. you adjust your bikini top, accidentally pushing your boobs together, and finally get into the water.

the girls have their eyebrows raised at you, and seonghwa only gulps. it's as if he knows he did something that is bothering you. behind the playful smirk you are giving him, he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes. he knows he fucked up big time.

"having trouble with your floatie?"

"well, yeah, kinda. i got water in my ear and eyes."

"aw, you poor thing. let me see."

you cup his cheeks, swiping your thumbs over his closed eyes. the girls are scoffing, murmuring, and you would've felt very self conscious before. but this trip and seonghwa have fueled your confidence, and you are not scared of a pair of younger girls that know nothing more than to act dumb in front of him.

"feeling better?"

"yeah, real better. excellent in fact." he is a blubbering mess, looking between you and the girls.

"wanna get on the floatie with me?"

"yes."

"come on, then. say bye to your friends."

you swim off into deep water with the floatie, slow enough so he can catch up to you. you turn the floatie so that the backrest is turned towards the shore, and you are looking into the islands far away.

"go on, get on it."

"uh, i couldn't get on it in the shallow water. what makes you think-"

"seonghwa. get on the floatie."

he struggles again, wet hands slipping against the surface, now worse because you are right there, watching him. he finally climbs up, throwing his head back and exhaling.

"god, this was worse than the runs i do in the mornings back home."

he sits silent, eyes closed and sun bathing. when he hears nothing from you, he opens one eye, silently questioning why you aren't joining him. i mean, you came for that, didn't you?

"your headache still bothering you?"

"your massage helped, i did doze off for a while. until you started pulling my hair. which, by the way, what was that about?"

"it's going to sound stupid, but you seemed a bit too calm. i don't know. i fear those things."

"what, you thought i was dead?" he laughs.

"shut up, paranoia isn't that fun, you know? i'm currently in deep water, actually dying from fear that a shark will appear and feast on my legs."

"then get up here with me," he offers, patting the space next to him.

"oh, i'm fine right here." you place your hands on his knees, putting your body between his thighs.

"wh-what are you-"

"i'm gonna need you to be quiet."

"for what?"

"hush."

"noona-"

"hush i said." you pinch his thigh, earning a whimper. "now, be a good boy and hold my hair up so i don't make a mess. yet."

he looks at you wide eyed, finally realizing what your intention is. he gulps, feeling his swim shorts become tight. there's just something about your long nails grazing his skin and you giving him your best siren eyes from between his legs that is making his blood boil.

"hwa, baby, you have to stop being so stiff."

he melts in your hands at the nickname, and melts even more when you slip your hands in his shorts and gently pull him out. he is hard, and warm, and you can't wait to get your tongue on him. his hand finally reaches for your hair, pulling it in a messy ponytail and subconsciously guiding your head towards his cock.

"so impatient. again."

"sorry," he stops his movements.

you tease him, slowly running your thumb around his tip, not yet giving him the friction he needs. he squirms in your hands, unable to relax. he isn't used to risky situations like this. hell, he isn't used to a situation like this anywhere.

"hey," you call, seeing his panicked expression. when he looks at you, you can't help but smile fondly at him, and reach to move his long strands of hair out of his eyes. "i'll let you know if things get risky, like if anyone starts approaching. trust me. alright?"

"alright," he gulps.

"good."

wasting no time, you stick out your tongue, licking a stripe from the base up to his leaking tip, and pull him between your lips. his breath hitches, and his grip in your hair tightens. seonghwa throws his head back, letting his eyes roll and small sighs leave his lips.

using the chance when he's not looking, you pull your bikini top aside, letting your breasts fall free. you take his other hand, placing it gently on your now bare breast. he squeezes it subconsciously, making you hum around his cock. he tastes warm and salty, and you enjoy taking in every inch he has to give and explore it with your tongue. you just can't wait to sit on it. hopefully soon.

"i'm gonna cum- i think-"

you pull him out, making sure to make a popping noise on purpose.

"already?" you tease, still gently stroking him.

"sorry..." he looks down at you, blush creeping up his cheeks.

"it's okay, bun. just relax this time. we'll have plenty of chances to practice your patience."

"we will?" he asks, eyes full of hope as he looks into yours full of mischief.

"honestly..." you drag off, teasing him further, "...seeing you so confused and stiff, i'm starting to think you don't even want it."

"what? no! i- i do, really. you just- have me in a rather uncomfortable place."

flashing him a smile, you cup his face with your palms and bring his face close to yours. "kiss me."

"uh-"

"seonghwa."

"yes."

"kiss. me." your face morphs from the fun expression to a serious and lustful one. "now."

and like the good boy he is, he obeys. he leans in, lips softly pressing into yours. he is still stiff in your hands, and his lips are almost trembling. as much as you think it is cute, it is starting to drive you crazy. why can't he just rip your panties off and plunge his fingers inside you right there underwater?

switching the places of the impatient one, you pull him off the floatie and into the water, hands wrapping around his neck and lips desperately chasing his. he tastes like a fruit salad, which you watched him steal from yunho before they joined you in sun bathing. the fusion of watermelon, kiwi and pineapples is melting on your tongue, and you just can't help but feel up his body and grind yourself on him like an animal in heat. he isn't too different from you, hands reaching for anything he can grab; from your waist, to your neck and face. you notice that he isn't touching any areas that you really need to be touched.

you groan, pulling away from him.

"seonghwa, you're pissing me off."

"what? why?" he pulls away, but still rests his hands on your waist, afraid that you're going to run away from him if he lets go.

"it feels like i'm forcing you to do this. you don't seem to enjoy it, at all. not the way you're supposed to. if you want me to stop, you have to tell me that. you're giving me mixed signals here, all inviting and teasing from afar, and when i finally approach you, you're so stiff and nervous. like you're waiting for me to get over with it and leave."

the young man stays silent. that isn't the case. you have no idea how it is not that case at all. seonghwa is crazy about you, from your personality, to your body. you're a full package, but you are older, more experienced. and him? he's just a young man who doesn't know a thing about pleasing a woman, other than rubbing her until eventually she cums, whether it is a minute or thirty minutes later. fun, right?

"look, here's the deal. i will leave you alone, okay?" you reach to remove his long bangs out of his face, revealing his pretty eyes staring at you with mixed emotions. "if you decide to prove me wrong, don't do it with words. come search for me, show me what you want and how you want it, and we'll go from there. sounds good?"

"but i really want you, i just-"

"no more words i said, hwa. words are nothing at this point. you want me? you're gonna have to do something about it. before somebody else does. and i really need some relief these days, i might really cave into wooyoung."

god, not wooyoung. he can't lose you to wooyoung. not because he dislikes him or something, but because he dislikes the idea of seeing you with someone else. at least seeing you, well, relieved with someone else. he's not sure what view he has on you. it is clear you only want something physical, and something limited. something tied to this vacation spot and time. does he have the heart for that? he will fall for you, he knows it. if he hasn't already.

were your eyes always this pretty in the sun? was your hair always that satisfying to touch? and was your voice always this satisfying to his ears?

days pass fast when you're having fun. you're sadly looking over at the last packed bikini, bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

"oh, cheer up! your birthday is in like two hours!"

"oh, my bad. yay! i'm getting older!" you grab the bottled cocktail off the nightstand, sipping it.

"what has gotten up your asshole these days?" your friend is persistent.

"nothing, why would you think that?"

you hear a scoff, and you just have to roll your eyes. she stays silent for a few moments, looking at you through the mirror while she is getting ready for your birthday party. you had agreed on going for a group night swim after the countdown, but you are not feeling it. you always get sad on trips, knowing that they'll end soon and that you'll have to go back to your ordinary life. if only you could live here. with seonghwa.

what?

think straight. you cannot want something like that with him. he is so young, he should find someone his age. someone who doesn't make him sad, confused and stiff all the time. the opposite of you. it hurts your heart a little, but you remind yourself that this is only a crush that will fade, a summer fling that will pass. nothing to get yourself worked up for.

"you're so fucking depressed today, jesus. it's making me feel like shit too."

"i'm just a little homesick, that's all."

"lies. but okay, suit yourself."

you finally slip on the pink sequin dress you have bought specifically for this night. the faux feathers are tickling your skin, and you just can't wait to take it off. why are the prettiest things the most uncomfortable ones?

"wow, those heels make your legs look so hot! you're so bringing a guy here tonight."

with a glance at your pink glitter heels, you sigh. you want one guy. and it doesn't even have to be for the reason she thinks. you could just lay there, talk about old times and new times. with each second passing, it is becoming more difficult to keep your thoughts away from seonghwa. why is he so damn addicting?

"right, let's go."

the club is loud and busy, you have trouble finding the group. but when you do, you are glad. you are starting to feel more comfortable with them, and not being around them makes you feel a bit empty and bored. seeing them occupy the couch again puts a smile on your face, but when you notice one face missing, your face drops.

"where's seonghwa?" you ask before thinking.

"he left to get a drink, i think. strange, it's been fifteen minutes now. the bar isn't that busy."

glancing at the bar, you realize that san is telling the truth. the bar is almost empty, and seonghwa is nowhere to be seen. wooyoung takes his chance, expanding his hand for you to take. when you do, he gently pulls you so that you fall into his lap, and you can't help but laugh.

"rude."

"come on, is there a better seat here?"

you notice mingi taking secret glances at you friend, probably thinking whether or not he should make a similar move on her.

"so, want to play a classic?" yunho offers.

"games? come on, yunnie, we came to drink!"

yunho rolls his eyes at your friend, and brings the bottle of vodka to his lips. it is almost empty, and he downs it with no problem. he sets it in the middle of the table, giving it a spin. "who says there won't be drinking?"

wooyoung's hands are suddenly loose around you, and before you can look at him and ask what's wrong, a familiar figure joins the table. he looks absolutely ravishing.

his hair is a wavy mess, his linen white shirt half unbuttoned, and pants loosely hanging on his hips, exposing his v-line. fuck, you need him. you need him so bad that you almost start grinding on wooyoung for any friction.

"what are we doing?"

"playing some old truth or dare. spin?"

"sure."

he sits next to yunho, and spins the bottle. the bottom lands on san, the tip on your friend. he smirks, and you see that he is fighting the urge to look at mingi.

"truth or-"

"dare."

"ah, should've known already.  i dare you to sit on mingi's lap."

mingi blushes furiously, glaring at san. your friend only rolls her eyes, much like yunho at her, and sits on mingi. "childish ass dare. do better, i'm already bored."

"oh, we're just getting started."

the game lasts half an hour, and so far, you have: kissed yeosang's cheek, because everyone likes to see him shy, drank five consecutive shots of tequila, told them some of your kinks, and accidentally rubbed your ass on wooyoung's crotch. he snickers, hands coming to your hips to keep you steady. you are feeling tipsy, but you still know what you're doing. right now, the tip of the bottle is pointing at you, while jongho is taking his sweet time thinking of a dare to give you.

"oh, oh! i got one for you!" hongjoong exclaims.

the older man whispers something into the younger one's ear, and the smirk that appears on his face makes you a little nervous.

"well?" you ask, voice a bit shaky with a nervous smile.

"i dare you to..."

why did you choose dare? why couldn't it be truth? you wanted to be fun. there you have it.

"spit it out, jongho. she's shaking." wooyoung says, annoyed.

"i dare you to drink that cocktail and kiss seonghwa with it. you know, make him drink it from your mouth."

time seems to stop for you. your eyes widen, scanning over the group. you are ready to spill out excuses and explanations, but when you see them cheer, your eyebrows scrunch. nobody is seeing anything suspicious about this? well, nobody except three people. you glance at seonghwa, who is frozen in his seat. his whiskey glass rests in his hand halfway up to his mouth. 

he sets it back on the table, mentally preparing himself for what is about to happen. you will probably decline, say you see him as a childhood friend, and pick someone else to do it with instead. but when he sees you down the glass of piña colada and get up from your seat, he feels sweat wash over his body. you'll really do it. in front of his sister. in front of wooyoung. in front of everyone.

he thinks you look cute with your lips unintentionally pouting as you hold the liquid in your mouth. a fond smile creeps on his lips just before you sit on his lap, hands wrapping around his neck and lips finally pressing into his. he takes every single drop you give him, drinking it up along with the taste of your lips and tongue. already swaying a bit from alcohol, he forgets where he is for a moment. his tongue swipes your bottom lip, collecting the remains of the drinks and biting it along the way. you give in, tongue pushing past his lips and finding his.

"woah, woah! okay!"

"guys, that's enough."

but you don't stop. not when his hands are finally touching you how you want it. how you need it. his slender fingers find their spot in the back of your head, gently pulling your hair as he desperately kisses you. you whine in his mouth, pleasant pain spreading in your body. his other hand lands on your waist, pulling you closer into him so that you can only feel his scent and his warmth. only him in a room full of people. 

"shit, live porn. how about that?" wooyoung snickers, downing another tequila.

"alright, guys!"

seonghwa is the first one to pull away, hazy eyes staring deep into yours. it only takes one look from you to show him that you know what he wants, and that you want it too.

"damn. my brother and my best friend making out. didn't think i'd see that in... well, ever."

"why are you complaining? you're making out with your brother's best friend."

"yeah, but seonghwa doesn't mind, do you?"

seonghwa hates that he has to remove his gaze from you to look at his sister. "why? you mind me kissing your best friend?"

"no, no. not at all. carry on. SOMEWHERE ELSE! disgusting."

seonghwa helps you stand, not letting go of your waist.

"i'll be borrowing this." you reach for the bottle of champagne that was meant to be opened on your birthday countdown. but you found a better use of it. "see you!"

you rush out of the club, pulling seonghwa by his wrist all the way to the shore. you push him into the ocean, cold water caressing your bodies as you keep walking deeper until it reaches your chest. seonghwa is quick to continue the makeout session he has started, and you don't complain. his lips are starved of your touch, kissing you like it's his first and last.

"wait, wait."

"what?"

you give him the bottle, offering a sip. he takes a long one, not once breaking eye contact with you. when he hands it back to you, you can't help the mischievous grin that appears on your face. he looks at you with amused eyes. you pour the champagne on your neck and chest in a slow stream, not caring about pollution or wasting at this point. seonghwa takes the signal, and grabs your waist so that he can pull you closer. his tongue licks up the champagne from your neck, chest and collarbones. you are a moaning mess in his hands.

"if i would've known that all you needed was a few shots and a high schooler game, i would've done it the first day." you admit.

the wet dress sticks to your body, making it difficult to move in the water. you gasp when you feel his fingers dip between your thighs, resting on the pink bikini you've put on. with a silent approval from you, he moves the bottoms under your dress aside, middle finger slipping past your folds and thumb circling your clit. you shake under his touch, feelings too overwhelming.

"let me make love to you."

he says it so romantically, as if he isn't knuckles deep inside of you right now.

"let me show you a different way. my way."

and you give yourself to him. dragging him back to the shore, lips not once leaving his. not caring if anyone around you is watching. your dress comes off with a few difficulties, but now that you're out of it, you feel like you can breathe freely. your bikini top soon joins the dress in the sand next to you, but the chain, heels and panties stay. seonghwa spills more champagne over your exposed chest, and proceeds to lick it all up like a starved man.

"should i take off my-"

"no, please. i want to fuck you with your heels on."

"oh? that a fetish of yours?"

he blushes a little, looking down at the sparkly heels shining in the distant club lights.

"i like glitter." he simply says.

his fingers are in a rush to take your panties off, but before he can discard them along with the rest of his and your clothes, you speak. "a little warning."

"yes?"

"i can be loud."

"how loud?"

"very."

the young man looks around for a moment, as if thinking about something important. then, he simply shrugs. "okay."

before you can react, he shoves the panties in your mouth, catching you by surprise. he strokes himself a few times, too impatient for any foreplay. there was enough teasing all these days, he knows you can't take it either.

his warm cock slides between your folds with ease, your walls hugging it tightly. he groans, and you moan around the panties. his hands grip your waist, but not the rough grip. the strong, yet gentle grip. he moves his hips sensually, like waves rather than thrusts. he raises your hips a little, angling them so that he can reach better. your eyebrows scrunch with pleasure, eyes looking up at him as a plea for more.

"i know, i know. feels good, doesn't it?"

you nod, rolling your hips to match his rhythm. sand sticks to your skin, the smell of his perfume and champagne is making you feel dizzy, and the grip on your hips is only getting stronger. you haven't felt such pleasure in a long time.

the tip of his cock rubs the sensitive spot inside of you, making you whine and moan through the wet fabric.

"oh, you were just made for me, weren't you? look how good you're taking me. all of it."

your eyes roll at his dirty talk, and you promise yourself there that this won't be the last time you're hearing it.

"fuuuck..." he trails, plunging his hips into yours and touching your cervix along the way. he continues the hard but slow pumps, getting lost in the warm feeling of you. "fuck, you're so pretty for me. look at you, you fit in my hands like a perfect doll."

is that size kink coming from him? if yes, you are having so much fun finding out about him in a situation like this.

you whimper, feeling your orgasm approaching. he doesn't notice, instead, he is so lost in his own pleasure that he barely feels you clawing at his back as you cum hard on his cock.

"huh? what's that? you want more?"

tears drop down your cheeks, overwhelming pleasure washing over your body. you can't take it, but seonghwa doesn't ask. he only holds you in place, slowing his pace and giving you time to relax and regain composure.

but what's the use, when as soon as you calm from your high, he starts snapping his hips into yours again? you now shamelessly tug at his hair, not sure if it's from pain or pleasure. but both is good to you.

"fuck, can i cum in you?"

you nod, and if you could, you'd beg him to do so. seonghwa gets down, burying his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in circles. you desperately groan into his ear, moving your hips with his movements. seonghwa's moves gradually become sloppy, losing the collected sensual waves and instead opting for harsh thrusts, tip of his cock touching your cervix and leaving your body shaking in his arms.

fireworks paint the sky, just like seonghwa paints your walls with his seed. your orgasm washes over you once again, and you feel yourself get slippery down there. he doesn't stop, helping both of you ride it out as fireworks keep going off above you.

seonghwa is the first to gain his consciousness, carefully removing the panties from your mouth. while you are still catching your breath, he kisses your tears away.

"hey?"

you hum, looking up at the colorful explosions.

"did i hurt you?"

"in normal circumstances, i would've said i wish. but this? you just made me never wish for rough sex again."

he only chuckles, then takes his discarded shirt from the small pile. he helps you sit up, then covers you with his shirt.

"thank you, hwa."

he puts his pants back on, sitting next to you. he grabs the bottle of leftover champagne, taking a sip before offering you one too. you take it, resting your head on his shoulder.

"happy birthday, noona."

"oh, you seriously have to stop that."

as you both laugh and stare at the reflection of the moon on the ocean surface, you can't help but feed the small hope you almost killed today. maybe seonghwa doesn't have to be a faded crush or a summer fling.

"say, when we get back, do you want to go out someti-" he starts, as if he read your thoughts.

"yes." you interrupt, planting a kiss on his cheek.

🐬feedback greatly appreciated! 💙

[rainbowbarnacle]

Please make a tea post so I can save it especially the pineapple ice cubes I need more info

Oh, like, different teas I like to make? Okay! :D

🍍Pineapple Tea🍍

The way I do it is really simple:

Buy a giant jug of already-made tea (I like gold peak!)

Buy a carton of pineapple juice

Freeze the juice into cubes, pour a little of it in the tea for extra flavor

And that's it. That's aaaall you gotta do.

There's all kindsa ways you can dress it up, but nine times out of ten I just do this and drink it by the gallon when it's hot out.

If you wanna get fancy with it, feel free to cold brew your own black (or green) tea, add actual hunks of pineapple fruit in there, add some orange juice, add some honey, add some coconut milk or sweetened condensed milk, whatever sounds good! (Also, pairing pineapple tea with coconut cookies? SO GOOD.) Put mint in the pineapple cubes if you like mint! Add a bit of boiled ginger root or some brown sugar and cinnamon for a little kick! Heck, last summer I used blue peaflower star-shaped ice cubes just because they were pretty.

(Peaflower petals don't taste like much, but they make a GORGEOUS blue, and if you put something acidic in there like lemon juice IT TURNS PINK. :D)

🍓Strawberry Tea🍓

I find this stuff sort of difficult to find where I live, so often I go the same route as the pineapple tea: grab a jug of black tea, grab a jug of strawberry juice, (ocean spray has a really nice cran-strawberry one I like) freeze the juice, mix, and enjoy. Super simple.

If I can't find strawberry juice, I dice some strawberries up and put it in a jar with some water and a bit of sugar for a few hours, then add *that* to the tea. (heck, it's really nice all by itself!)

What goes with strawberry? ANY DANG THING YOU WANT. I am particularly fond of lychee. Jasmine tea and rose petals pair really well with it too. Again, if you like mint, it's *really* nice with strawberry. And you know how if you put black pepper on strawberries they taste even strawberrier? (If you haven't tried this, go do it, it's magic.) Same goes with the tea, add some peppercorns or a teeny bit of chili powder or some ginger.

If you wanna drink it hot or cold brew a batch of your own, here are some brands that are also nice:

1. Strawberry Sensation

2. Adagio Strawberry Tea (this is also where I got the peaflower petals)

3. Any of Lupicia's Strawberry Teas they are HEAVENLY

🍏Apple Tea🍏

As with the pineapple and strawberry teas, it's totally fine to just go find some ready-made tea and mix it with some apple cider or apple juice for tasty low spoons fun. If you drink it iced, a bit of sugar and lemon juice brings out the apple flavor nicely!

I prefer drinking this stuff hot though. You know that Fall Drink post that was floating around? IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, TRY IT, IT'S AWESOME.

☕Chai Tea☕

So here's the thing about chai for me personally: I don't tend to drink it iced or sugary, but if you do like it iced and sugary, there are a couple of really nice chai tea concentrates:

Oregon Chai Latte

Tazo's Chai Latte (Forget the "skinny" nonsense, I just wanted to include an option with no milk so you can add whatever you want to it)

Pacific Chai isn't concentrated, but you can use it to make hot or iced chai and it's really lovely, not too sweet and super easy to work with. As for dressing up chai, I don't tend to! There's already so much going on with all the flavors, I just drink it as-is most days. Play with milk-to-tea ratios or sugar amounts all you like, figure out what's your jam.

I do know that mixing chai and coffee together (or chai and chocolate together) is guaranteed to make a feeling groovy kind of morning, at least if you have two thumbs and you're me. Iiii think that's all the tea blather I can think of for right now. Thank you for asking, anon, it was fun! Anybody reading this, feel free to add your own favorite things to do with tea. :D

[soundspeachytome]

baby fever - shohei ohtani au

summary: (i don't think this needs a summary, the title says it all lol)

word count: 10,584K

tags: fluff, mentions of sex, impregnation

other notes: midnight word vomit things~ i honestly didn't think i would be able to write something so soon after the one i posted on NYE but i'm blaming that video of shohei playing with some kids on my timeline. my thoughts have secured me a seat in hell.

enjoy and cry in delusion with me.

=====================================

Shohei couldn’t help himself but beam all the way home. He had spent his entire day surrounded by a group of kids no older than twelve years old, the youngest around five, to help facilitate the annual children sports camp at the elementary school he worked at. Being the only teacher who had played baseball during his primary and secondary years in school, he was elected by default to coach a few hours’ session of baseball basics to which he did not object. Aside from that, he also helped facilitate another few hours in assisting the lead teachers during the games like scavenger hunt, capture the flag, and water balloon dodgeball. The last one being his favorite, he was just supposed to be watching and making sure none of the kids get hurt, or if ever they do, he’d play medic when the need arises. Thankfully, his first aid skills were put to the backseat and he was joined in on the fun when one of the twelve-year old campers aimed a water gun at him. He had no choice but to retaliate. With his wide hands and arm support, he grabbed a bunch of water balloons and aimed at anyone within proximity, creating an entirely new chaos between the kids and the other teachers, too.

He had ended the day soaked and sore from all the laughing and running around trying to avoid the kids aiming at him. Thankfully, you had made sure to pack him extra clothes to change into. “Just in case you get a little too fun and get soaked in sweat,” you had said, ignoring Shohei’s initial comments on not needing extra clothes since he was not technically sleeping over for the night. But proven to be always right, he made a mental note to get you something special as a way to thank you for being, well, the best.  

After he had changed into his comfy cotton pants and white shirt, he bid goodbye to everyone at camp, especially the kids he had made friends with. They hugged him and some even gave him DIY goodbye presents (one gave him a bracelet made out of plucked flowers and laced it around his wrist), a tall kid with glasses who must be around seven years old gave him his precious Snickers bar, almost melted, and the youngest girl of the bunch clung onto his leg and tried to stop him from leaving. These short but meaningful interactions touched Shohei that he almost felt bad for leaving. 

“Will you teach us again next summer camp, Teacher?” one kid had asked.

“Hmm. Maybe, we’ll see,” Shohei beamed, eyeing the other teachers in response. If not for the lead teachers and school principal, he would not have been able to cross the schoolgate and reach his car. He waved one last goodbye to the kids who stood behind the gates and then drove away. 

He couldn’t wait to go home to you and tell you about his day. 

You were in the kitchen when you heard Shohei’s Corolla park in the garage. You continued tending to the Tsuyu broth and soba noodles that you were saving up for a warm day like this. 

While Shohei was out for camp duties the entire day, you were able to finish the flower embroidery design you had been challenged with for over a week now. Being new to the craft, you had a slightly difficult time understanding the patterns in the first place, but once you got the hang of it, you were on a roll and without realizing it, you were already done. You regretted buying only one design thinking it would take you longer to complete it, and also considering that you were the type to abandon something when you feel overwhelmed or had just simply lost the fixation, just like the few hundred other abandoned projects you started this year. This time, however, you were so accomplished that you couldn’t wait for Shohei to come home and brag. 

Upon his arrival, Shohei sees you busy in the kitchen, humming to Adele. He put his bag on the countertop and went straight to you, your back facing him. He embraced you from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder and slightly shifted his weight against your body. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.” You angled your face upwards to meet him and he planted a kiss straight to your lips. When you went back to what you were doing, he left kisses on the small spots on your neck and shoulder. 

“Hmm, I love soba. I was craving for this.” He murmured against your skin. He still had his arms wrapped around, waiting for you to finish and give him your full attention.

“Really? Didn’t I tell you that I’m a mind-reader?” you joked and turned the stove off and faced Shohei. 

“Yes and you are the best.” He did not waste another second and kissed you tastefully on the mouth. As soon as he got your attention, he made sure your tongue was preoccupied with his. 

You stayed like that for a few seconds. A slow summer day deserves an equally slow and hot makeout session like this. Shohei put both his hands behind your back and you had no choice but to push your body closer to him while you coiled your hands behind the nape of his neck, tugging a few strands of his thick hair.

“What’s gotten you so worked up today, love?” you asked when you separated. 

He pulled back, catching his breath and looked seriously at you. 

“Let’s start doing it, love.”

“Do what?”

“Kids. Babies. I want to put a baby on you right now.” He massaged your lower back and showered your neck with more kisses.

“So sudden?” You looked at Shohei with bewilderment. You weren’t angry or anything, just a little surprised that he had suddenly brought it up. You had always known to use oral and physical contraception ever since you started dating and like an unspoken promise, you made sure that your relationship would not bear anything both of you didn’t feel like committing to yet. But this was definitely something new. 

“I was just thinking… At camp, the kids loved playing with me… some even clung to me–like this–” he hugged you tightly in demonstration. “--and I almost choked up when I was driving away.”

“And…?”

“I played with kids the whole day, I realized that I really, really want to have kids.” He pouted.

In a way, Shohei had always been great with kids. You saw how he used to fawn over your neighbors’ kids and their tiny steps, how he’d wave to babies in strollers whenever you’d pass by them, smiling extra wide. 

“Like, I really, really, really do. We’ve been married for three years now. Don’t you think it’s time for us to get pregnant?”

You were silent the whole time, looking straight into Shohei’s face, and trying to see any hint of him joshing around but he was nothing but serious with his dead set eyes and determination.

“What are you thinking, love?” He asked, getting fidgety after seeing you were quiet for a while. 

“Are we even ready for kids? There are a lot of newer parents that get divorced after babies are born…” you trailed off. Shohei noticed your worry and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, I won’t force it if you’re not comfortable.” he kissed your nose and pulled you into a tight hug. “The noodles look amazing! So much about my day, they can wait… What did you do all day without me?”

Dinner ensued and the pregnancy topic was never brought up again, much to your relief. Shohei was quite understanding and never the pushy type. He always made sure that when you both decide on anything, you were both in it, just like when he moved in with you after a year of dating, when you decided to get married a few months after, and then buying a house.

You felt no pressure whatsoever about creating a family with Shohei because he never pressured you or his family. You don’t know if you wanted kids at all. When you were single, you thought there was not a single good man left on earth but meeting Shohei had changed your mind. Maybe, with the right kind of man, it’d be possible to love and still be loved properly while having kids. So yes, maybe. Maybe one day, you’d want Shohei’s children but were waiting for the right time. You hoped maybe someday, bearing kids will not just be a reluctant maybe, but a definite, sure and unwavering yes. 

Not until Shohei’s sister came to town to visit a few days later and brought their two year old daughter in tow. Shohei was ecstatic. He had fallen in love with his niece the moment he met her. He’d carry her as much as he could when they visited, buying her presents for every occasion, sometimes even when there’s really nothing to celebrate at all.

This time, when Shohei had picked up his niece, Nora, from her trolley and into his arms, kissing her lightly on the cheek, cooing and swinging her back and forth along with their boisterous laughter ringing around the house, you felt something shifted. 

You felt the anxiety on your shoulders lift and leave your body, leaving you with an immense sensation of love and happiness. You sat at the dinner table watching Shohei play peekaboo with Nora while she sits on his lap, and couldn’t help but imagine Shohei carrying a baby–your offspring–while feeding her, or humming it to sleep. It sounds like a beautiful dream, doesn’t it? 

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

After they had left and the house was silent again, you cornered Shohei in the kitchen, who was loading the dishes in the dishwasher. He was humming a Cocomelon nursery rhyme which you assumed was the same song he had played on his ipad with Nora. 

“Shohei.” You tugged his arm and looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, love?” 

“Let’s do it.” 

“Do what now?” He said mindlessly, pulling his sleeves down and shrugged off the kitchen apron.

“Fuck a baby into me, I said.” You raised your voice, unsure where to look.

It took him a few seconds to understand but when it finally dawned on him, he wasted no time and carried you into his arms bridal style. 

When he pushed you onto the bed, kissing you hungrily, both of you still half-undressed, he suddenly pulled back and asked, “Wait, is this your new kink now? Seeing me with kids?”

“What, no.” Your hands busied on the buckle of Shohei’s belt and when that ordeal was done, had pulled his boxers down to touch him. Like a knee jerk reaction, his hips jerked forward to your hand. 

Definitely.

“Hmm, this is going to be a long night,” he whispered, biting at the garter of your underwear and pulling it down with his teeth. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Absolutely.

“I’ve never been so sure.” 

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and met Shohei’s lips, while he slowly entered you, both of you adjusting to the size and feeling. He started thrusting in and out of you hungrily, as if on a mission, determined to fill you to the brim. And you, on the brink of pleasure and chasing your high, you couldn’t help but moan Shohei’s name and said, yes, yes, yes, over and over. Like an assurance statement, like a promise.

This is my yes, unquestionably, a hundred times over.

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 7 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, phone sex, daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, webcam sex, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 6.5k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 7 | is it cool that I said all that?

Soon enough, June gave way to July, the mid-summer heat setting in across the city like a fog. The city became busier, too, thanks to the peak tourism season and school being closed for the summer. For once, you barely noticed - you didn’t have to worry about the influx of customers, the more crowded buses and metro cars with packed, sweaty bodies that you had come to dread. Now, you were happy to shell out the money for a taxi, or to call Steve’s car service, even when he wasn’t with you. You had felt strange about it at first, but he insisted upon it. And, of course, you had started spending most nights with Steve - still getting picked up from your apartment, going out to fancy dinners and bars, and then going home with him. You had started spending the night more often, too.

On mornings that Steve had work, he’d leave quietly, rarely even causing you to stir. He’d usually send a text, or on occasion leaving a note; something along the lines of stay as long as you’d like, I’ll see you soon. On occasion, he’d stay at your place, too. You were embarrassed by your tiny, cluttered apartment, thinking of his pristine penthouse. But, he never said anything. Sometimes, you’d find yourself stumbling up the stairs and into your bed, challenging yourselves to be quiet with the knowledge of Robin asleep on the other side of the wall.

It was a nice routine - in the time you had been living in Rome, you had been spending most of your summers working as many hours as possible to save for the upcoming semester of university, spreading your money as thinly as possible during the school year when you had to inevitably cut back on hours. But now, it was different - you were letting yourself actually enjoy the city. You would take yourself out for breakfast, sipping coffee leisurely in a cafe while the city woke up. You would go for walks, stopping in shops along the way. Normally, you’d take one look at the prices of anything and walk out empty-handed. But now, you decided to treat yourself. If you saw something you liked - clothes, books, trinkets, jewelry, fresh food from the market - you let yourself buy it, not feeling guilt anymore when you brandished Steve’s credit card. Even in casual clothes, you found yourself dressing nicer in your daily life, the way you had always wanted, but just couldn’t afford to. You treated yourself to the hair salon, manicure appointments, and even splurged on the extra spa options every now and then. It was all new, still.

“You going somewhere?” Robin had asked one morning over her cereal, eyeing you as you were pouring yourself coffee, already fully dressed for the day.

“Just the market - do you need anything?”

“Uh, no. It’s just - you look nice. That’s all,” she remarked, smiling a bit.

“Oh - uh, thanks.”

You had started to notice it, too - your face had grown a little fuller, your skin brighter, the dark circles under your eyes a thing of the past. At one point, when you walked past a mirror, you stopped in your tracks - you were glowing. You never knew what people had meant when they said that, before - but now you understood.

Then, of course, there was Steve. You were seeing him even more frequently, five or six nights a week. Sometimes, he’d even meet you for lunch, on the rare occasion that he actually took his lunch break. It was over one of these lunch dates that he broke the news - you were sitting at a cafe close to the city center, only a few blocks from his office. You sipped your coffee, eyeing the menu as he cleared his throat.

“So, um - I have to go away this week. Business trip,” he said.

You looked up at him, a wave of disappointment washing over you. You tried to shake it - it was stupid, why did it matter? You just did your best to keep your face neutral.

“Oh, really?” you asked.

He nodded, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair.

“I only found out this morning - Barcelona, just for a bit. Five days, I think. Six, if you include travel, I guess.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together. 

“Yeah, I mean - do what you’ve got to do. At least it’s not too far, right?”

“Not at all - five, six hour flight, I think.”

“Well - that should be fun. I went to Barcelona over winter break with some friends my second year - I mean, we stayed in a hostel and basically just fucked around in the city, but it was nice.”

Steve chuckled, picking up his coffee cup.

“Yeah, well, I’ll probably spend most of it holed up in a conference room or hotel. Besides, I don’t speak a lick of Spanish.”

You shrugged. “To be fair, you barely speak Italian and have been living here for, what, six months?”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough,” Steve said, holding his hands up in surrender as he rolled his eyes. “To be fair, a lot of people speak English. Still, pretty sad to live in Italy for the better part of the year and not know any of the language, right?”

He was smiling, shaking his head incredulously, but avoiding your gaze. It probably meant nothing, just him making a joke, but you couldn’t help but read a bit into it. There was something in his tone, something wistful, a bit self-deprecating.

“I could teach you,” you said softly.

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up at you.

“I mean, I don’t think you’d be fluent, I’m not a teacher or anything, but… some words, phrases, basics, things like that. If you want.”

He smiled, a bit more softly this time. 

“Yeah - that’d be nice.”

You both just stared at each other, exchanging smiles, the moment lingering. It was interrupted when your waitress returned, asking for your order. You glanced over at Steve.

“Okay - I guess the lesson one will be ordering in a restaurant, yeah?”

******

You stayed over at Steve’s the night before he left. Despite doing his best to move quietly around the room, you found yourself waking up to the sound of him zipping his suitcase, his silhouette barely visible in the dim, early-morning light.

“Mm,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes.

He froze, turning to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Sorry, baby - go back to sleep.”

“Are y’leaving?” you asked groggily.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m afraid I have to. But, I’ll be back on Saturday, yeah?”

“Hm, yeah,” you said, turning over under the sheets. You let your breathing slow, shutting your eyes as you heard Steve move about the room, grabbing some last-minute things. He whispered your name through the darkness, so softly that even awake, you barely heard it. But, sleep was pulling you back into its clutches, and you didn’t say anything, too disoriented to reply. In hindsight, he probably thought that you had fallen completely back to sleep. You heard him take a few steps until he was right next to you, crouching down to your level. He reached out slowly, placing his hand on the side of your head, gently rubbing his thumb along your temple.

“You know - I’m really gonna miss you,” he whispered. “I know I probably shouldn’t, but -”

He stopped, taking a deep breath. Then, you felt the warmth of his lips pressing to your temple, then he pulled away, footsteps carrying him towards the doorway.

“Did you say something?” you grumbled into the pillow.

His footsteps stopped. Then, from the doorway, you heard, “Oh, uh, no - just, go to sleep. You can let yourself out - I’ll see you Saturday.”

Then he was gone.

*****

You went almost 12 hours before you texted Steve. You weren’t entirely sure what the protocol with this was - should you reach out to him? Should you ask how his flight was, or how things were going? It felt strange, though, doing something a girlfriend would do. But, it felt just as strange to not talk to him.

You stared at your phone for a few moments, tapping your fingers nervously on the kitchen table. You stared at your text conversation, typing and erasing a few times. This was stupid - you should be able to just text him -

hey

It sent before you could think about it anymore. You groaned, letting your head fall forward on the table.

“What did you do now?” Robin’s voice asked from the kitchen doorway.

“Why do you assume I did something?”

“Well, did you?”

You rolled your head to the side to look up at her, sighing.

“I’m the lamest mistress in the world.”

Robin visibly gagged.

“Okay, first of all - never say ‘mistress’ again. Also, that’s not technically what you are -”

“Robs, I love you, but I don’t need -”

“What’s going on?” she asked, more sincere now. She slid into the chair across from you, the old rickety wood creaking under her.

You just flashed your phone at her, defeated. She studied it for a moment before leaning back in her chair, arms crossed.

“Yep. You’re lame.”

You groaned again, slamming your forehead on the table again.

“What do I do?”

“Well, why the fuck are you texting him, anyways?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just - isn’t he away? For like, a week?”

You straightened up, furrowing your brow.

“Well, yeah.”

“So - why are you texting him? Like, are you trying to sext him or something?”

“What? God, no -”

“Then - huh?”

The look on Robin’s face said it all - somehow, not sexting him was infinitely weirder. Before either of you could say anything, your phone sounds off with a ding.

Steve: Hi!

You stared down at it, realizing one thing - somehow, Steve was infinitely lamer than you’d ever be. As you continued to stare at his message, plotting how to even reply, you were pulled out by Robin saying your name. You glanced up at her - had she said something?

“Hm?”

“I asked why’re you smiling? Is it him?”

You hadn’t even realized you were smiling. Suddenly feeling like a silly schoolgirl, you shook your head.

“Uh, no -”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“Oh god.”

*******

For that entire first day, you found yourself constantly texting Steve. Before, it had just been making plans, occasionally saying goodnight, letting him know you got home safe. But this was… different.

how was your flight?

It was okay, no complaints. Just tired. Did you get home okay?

yep thanks for letting me stay over

Never a problem - sorry I woke you up this morning.

…

…

…

oh you didn’t 

at least, i don’t remember that

A lie.

Oh, good.

It was easy, after that. He sent you pictures of the city as he drove through, as well as his hotel room.

ooooh, fancy

It should be, considering I’ll be spending most of my time here.

you’re not exploring the city at all? let yourself have some fun, old man

Ha. Wish I could - I’ll be at a conference or in meetings most of the week. Maybe we’ll go out for some corporate dinners, though.

sorry, i was falling asleep just reading about it 😴 

Oh, shut up.

you gonna make me?

He didn’t reply for a few minutes. You saw him start to type a few times, stop, and start again. Finally:

You’re going to pay for that later, you know.

i’m counting on it 😉

You didn’t hear much from Steve after that - it was silly to think you should, considering he had work to do. You went about the rest of your day pushing him from your mind - heading down to the market, cooking dinner for yourself and Robin, ending the night watching a terrible horror movie that you laughed your way through. It was pretty late, after you had been lying in your bed scrolling on your phone mindlessly for a while, that you heard from Steve again. But, he didn’t text - he was calling you.

The moment his name popped up on the screen, you sat up a bit straighter, letting your finger hover over the accept button. You weren’t sure why it was such a big deal that he was calling you - but, when you pressed accept, you felt your stomach flip, your heart rate speeding up a bit as you pressed the phone to your ear.

After a deep breath, you managed, “Hello?”

“Hey there,” Steve’s voice replied. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“Oh, no,” you assured him, shifting to fully sit up. “I was awake.”

“Okay, good - I wasn’t sure, I know it’s late.”

You pulled your phone away for a second to glance at the screen - 11:47pm.

“Yeah, I guess,” you said. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, something rustling on the other end.

“Just - well, nothing, really. I was just in bed, scrolling on my phone, normal stuff.”

“Normal stuff?”

“Yeah - you know, the rest of us are on social media, letting our brains turn to mush. It’s fun, you should try it,” you said sarcastically.

That earned a chuckle from him on the other end.

“Sounds great, but I’ll probably pass.”

“What’s your phone for, then?”

“Work. And contacting people, like you. Well, not like you, but - you know what I mean. Maybe taking a picture every now and then. What else would I need it for?”

You rolled your eyes. “What are you, 80?”

“Honestly? Feels like it sometimes.”

You laughed, settling further into your pillows.

“So, how’s Barcelona?”

He sighed. “Fine. I mean, I landed, checked into my hotel, and went straight to the conference. It’s the same shit as always - presentations, schmoozing people from other companies, meeting with industry big-wigs. But, at least there was a cocktail hour at the end.”

“Wait, are you drunk-calling me?”

“What? No! I only had a couple. It’s not - it doesn’t matter.”

You rolled your eyes. You could picture him, flustered and slightly indignant at the mere accusation.

“So, where are you now?” you asked.

“Back at my hotel. I - I just wanted to talk to you. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay - It’s nice, actually.”

A moment of silence hung between you, and you immediately kicked yourself for even saying it.

“I’m sorry, that was - I just meant that it’s - well, you’re -”

“What’re you wearing?” he asked, the words tumbling out.  You paused, your ramblings dying on your tongue.

“Huh?”

“I - I asked, what are you wearing?”

You looked down, brow furrowed. “Uh, like, an old college t-shirt, some shorts, just what I usually - wait, oh my god… are you trying to, like, have phone sex right now?”

“Well - it’s not - yes. Yes, I am. That’s how it’s supposed to start, right?”

You giggled, falling back on your bed. You probably shouldn’t be laughing, but you couldn’t help it - somehow, Steve was both the most suave and awkward person you’ve ever met, often at the same time.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, voice tinged with worry.

“It’s just - you’ve never done this before?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked sheepishly.

“Well, yeah, kinda. But, don’t worry about it, you’re doing great.”

“Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to, I just thought you wanted -”

“No! I mean, when you said you’re going to pay for that later, I thought you meant when you got home. But… if you’re offering -”

A pause. Then, “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m offering.”

You laid back a bit more, biting your lip.

“Well, let me get a bit more comfortable, Harrington.”

You reached down to the hem of your t-shirt, lifting it over your head with ease. Bare-chested, you hissed as the cool air hit your breasts, making yourself comfortable on your back again. Placing the phone on the pillow next to you, you put Steve on speaker.

“What did you just do?” Steve asked on the other end.

“Just took my shirt off, hope you don’t mind.”

You heard his breath hitch. “What kind of bra do you have on?” he asked quietly.

“Wasn’t wearing one,” you replied.

“Fuck.”

“Mm,” you said, taking one of your breasts in your hand. You began massaging it, rolling your nipple between your fingers until it hardened, before moving to the next one.

“They feel so nice in my hand,” you said breathily. “So soft, god, but not as nice as when you do it?”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, voice hoarse. “God, I miss your tits.”

“Mm,” you said, leaning into your own touch. “And they miss you. They miss your mouth on them, you know that? Now I’ve just got them all to myself -”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve murmured. 

You let your hand snake down, toying with the hem of your shorts. Then, slowly, you slide them off, shimmying them down your legs and kicking them off.

“Sorry, my shorts were in the way - had to take them off,” you confessed. 

“Yeah? You still got anything on, baby?”

“Just my panties - but, god, they’re soaked,” you said, fingers ghosting over the lacy fabric. 

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve said, voice a bit rougher. “My voice gets you off that much, huh?”

“Mmm hm,” you said dreamily. “But, there’s a problem.”

“And what’s that?”

“If I had to guess… you’ve still got all your clothes on, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Well, I’m not touching myself until your cock is out.”

And with that, you heard rustling on the other end of the phone, and the distinct sound of a belt hitting the floor, followed by fabric. God, he wasn’t even dressed for bed, yet.

“There you go,” you whispered. “That’s more like it. Are you hard yet?”

“Yes, Jesus, I’ve been half-hard ever since you picked up the phone.”

“Good,” you said.

“But - I’m not doing another thing until you start touchin’ yourself,” he said firmly. “Can you do that for me?”

“Anything you want, daddy.”

You heard him groan, and you smirked to yourself. You let your hand wander over your clothed cunt, finally allowing your fingers to slip under the waistband. You ran your fingers up and down your slit, soaking them in the wetness there. When you finally came in contact with your clit, you gasped.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, voice gruff.

“I’m so wet,” you breathed. “My fingers are coated - I - I’m rubbing my clit. Nice and slow.”

“Good girl,”  Steve whispered. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” you admitted. 

“Does it feel as good as when I do it?” 

“No,” you said. “But still - god, it feels so nice.”

“Do you touch yourself a lot?” he asked. “When I’m not around? Tell me the truth, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “I do.”

“Do you think of me?”

“Mm hm, I think about you when I make myself cum, all alone.”

He sighed on the other end. “Yeah, I bet you do. Because you’re fuckin’ mine.”

“I’m yours,” you echoed, picking up speed on your clit. You gasped.

“Do you ever use toys to get yourself off?” he asked.

“I - ah! Fuck - yeah, I do. I have a - shit - a vibrator.”

A pause on the other end. Then, “Take it out, baby. I want you to use it.”

Even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you nodded, reaching towards your nightstand and shuffling through the drawer until you found it, a little purple thing that had been getting less use lately than usual.

“I have it,” you said, settling back down. “But… I’ll only start using it if you start touching yourself, now.”

He groaned. “Fine, I will.”

You heard him hiss, then his breathing start to quicken.

“I’m stroking my cock, baby - god, I’m so fuckin’ hard right now - just thinking about your pretty pussy, how good it feels around me.”

You sighed, turning on the vibrator in response. Upon hearing the sound, Steve groaned. You pressed it to your clit, crying out the moment it made contact. Your back arched, your hips bucking into it.

“Oh, god - this feels so good,” you said. 

“Are you using it?”

“Yeah, right on my clit - it’s so good, it’s too much -”

“Yes, play with that pussy, baby,” he said, voice strained. “I want you to fuck yourself on your fingers, can you do that for me?”

“‘Course I can,” you whispered. “After your cock, I can fit anything inside me.”

He let out a guttural groan. In response, you took your free hand that had returned to massaging your breasts and brought it downwards, coating it in your slick before letting a finger slip inside you. After a few moments, you added a second finger, stretching and pumping as you circled your clit with the vibe.

“Mm, that feels good. I miss having you inside me, though,” you confessed.

“Fuck - yeah? You do?”

“Mm. Nothing makes me feel as good as your cock, sir.”

“Damn right,” he said. “I’m just picturin’ you, all spread out, touching yourself - are you close?”

“Yes,” you admitted, hips bucking to your own touch. You added a third finger, curling them inside of yourself, finding that one spot that made you see stars.

“Are you close?” you asked.

“Yeah, fuck, I am - you should see this, sitting here, cock in my hand - wishing it was your pussy, or you mouth. It’s like your pussy was made for me, I wish I was buried inside you right now -”

You felt your abdomen tighten, your heart rate quickening. You moaned, fucking yourself on your fingers faster.

“Shit, Steve, I - I’m close, I’m gonna cum -”

“Cum, baby, please,” he begged. “And say my name when you do it - I wanna hear you -”

“Yes, daddy,” you sighed, “I’ll cum for you, I’ll scream your name as loud as you want -”

“Good girl,” he grunted, his breathing labored.

You pictured it, Steve jerking himself off to the sound of your voice, the very thought of you getting him off. You gasped and moaned as you touched yourself, your walls starting to clench around your fingers. You thought of Steve - his hands on you, his voice in your ears, his cock inside you, filling you to the brim. You could feel it, your soft walls wrapped around him, him pounding into you, your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as you both came -

Before you knew it, you were coming, your peak hitting you suddenly. You screamed, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed and pulsed around your fingers.

“Steve! Fuck, oh my god, I’m cumming -”

“Shit - me too, princess. Oh -” he growled your name as he came and you convulsed and moaned as you thought about it, him spilling into his hand, your name on his lips.

You rode out your orgasm, brow sweating and breathing heavy as you came down from your high. You dropped the vibrator, the stimulation becoming too much. You just heard Steve’s labored breathing on the other end of the phone, both of you needing a moment to gather yourself. Eventually, you withdrew your fingers from yourself, grimacing. Your hand was soaked, coated in the evidence of your orgasm.

“Christ,” Steve breathed after a while, finally breaking the silence. “Baby, that was so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” you asked. “What would you rate it?”

“Five out of five stars,” he joked. “Definitely would do it again.”

You laughed, slapping your palm to your forehead as you stared up at the ceiling. You had a stupid smile on your face, you could feel it. But, you didn’t really care - he wasn’t even here to see you.

“Same,” you said. “So, turns out you are good at phone sex.”

This earned a laugh from Steve on the other end, much to your satisfaction.

“Oh, yeah - but, I’m only going to get better with practice. Couldn’t hurt, right?”

You felt your face heat. You bit your lip, nodding.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Good,” he said. “Because whenever I'm away, I'm planning on doing this a lot."

That time, you let yourself giggle into the phone, practically giddy. And, you tried to ignore the small part of you, deep down, that ached.

******

The next day, you hardly heard from Steve, aside from the odd text exchange here and there. That was fine enough with you - Robin got it in her head to go out again, and you opted to go along. You finally met Vickie, who met you at the bar - she seemed lovely, and exactly Robin’s type. You had been spending so much time with Steve, that you had forgotten what it had felt like to be a normal 20-year-old. So, when you stumbled in the door at 3am and collapsed in your bed, you had hardly thought about Steve at all. That was, at least, until the following day. When you woke up, it was nearly noon, a headache already forming as you blinked groggily in the morning light. You reached for your phone, squinting as the newest message from Steve flashed across the screen:

Good morning :)

morning

After a few minutes, a response:

Did you just wake up?

yeah

Robin and I went out last night

i’m kinda hungover

Should you have told him that? Or, was he going to judge you, reprimand you, ask where you went? Then again, did he have any right to?

That sounds fun. Well, not the hangover, but going out. I hope you had a good time :)

Seemed legitimate enough - over text, you learned, Steve really only knows how to be genuine.

it was, i’m regretting it now tho

Well, take it easy. I’m heading out now, I’ll probably be busy most of the day.

What were you even supposed to say to that? Have fun? Of course he wouldn’t, it was a 12-hour workday. Did he even want you to say anything to that?

ok ☺️

It wasn’t until quite late that night that you heard from him again. You were getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth when his name popped up on your screen - but now, he was FaceTiming you. Part of you wondered if it was an accident, if he meant to just do a voice call instead, or perhaps not call you at all. Still, you quickly spit out your toothpaste and fumbled with the phone to answer. Steve’s face popped up, looking expectant. It had only been a few days since you actually saw him, and you felt your heart tighten anyway.

“Hey,” you said, trying to mask your surprise as you made your way back towards your bedroom. “What’s going on?”

Something faltered in his face, only for a split second - for all you knew, it was a connection glitch.

“Oh, nothing - sorry, should I not have called?”

“No! No, it’s fine, I just - didn’t take you for the FaceTiming type.”

“I’m thirty, not eighty.”

You rolled your eyes, plopping down onto your bed and settling until you were sitting up cross-legged.

“Allegedly, you old man. How was your day?”

He sighed deeply, in a way that you almost wished you hadn’t asked.

“Fine, I guess. Long. We’re really close to closing a major deal, but… it’s just -” he sighed again, rubbing his hand across his face. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details. But it’s taking longer than expected, and we’re really hitting some roadblocks.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, frowning a bit. He looked tired, and stressed. All you wanted was to reach through the screen and kiss it better.

“It’s alright, I’m not expecting you to say anything - I don’t even know why I’m even telling you, I just -”

“-wanted to vent,” you finished. “Yeah, I get it. You can talk about these things with me, you know.”

He smiled wearily. “Thank you. Really.”

A moment of silence passed, before he spoke again.

“So - was your day at least good?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, it was fine. Nothing too exciting. Just did a lot of cleaning around the apartment, to be honest. Cooked dinner, had a night in. You know, nothing crazy.”

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah - nothing hydration and Advil couldn’t fix. It wasn’t too bad.”

You squinted at the screen for a moment, and realized he was sitting at a desk.

“Are you - are you FaceTiming me from your laptop?”

“Uh, yeah - why?”

You just giggled. “Nothing, it’s just… of course you are.”

He rolled his eyes, visibly fighting a smile. “I was doing work, and… I don’t know. I guess I just really wanted to see your face.”

You felt something warm in your chest, spreading through you until your ears tingled and face heated. You did your best to ignore it, just smiling back at him.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you admitted. You felt a yawn coming on, but did your best to stifle it. Still, Steve apparently noticed, as his face set into a frown.

“Are you tired? I can go, if you want.”

“No, it’s okay! Seriously. If I hang up, I’ll just be on my phone for the next two hours, anyways.”

“As long as you’re sure -”

“I am.”

He nodded. “Okay. And I didn’t - I don’t want you to think I called for the same reason I did the other night, by the way. At least, not if you don’t want that.”

You felt your face flush at the memory.

“Then, why did you call? Just to see me?”

“Well, yes. And… this is going to sound stupid.”

“Try me,” you whispered, settling further into bed by the minute.

“I just - I haven’t been sleeping that well, since I’ve been here. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s just being in a hotel, but I usually get used to that after a night or so. But… maybe it’s just because I haven’t been sleeping alone much lately.”

Oh.

“Do you want me to stay on with you?” you asked softly.

He nodded, glancing down to avoid your gaze.

“Okay.”

So you did. You both just started talking, about your days, the book Steve was reading, the TV show you were binge-watching. What you did around the house that day, a quick tour of your (now cleaner) bedroom, which led to him asking about the photos pinned you your wall, and the tchotchkes on your bookshelf. You got the “grand” tour of his hotel room, which he evidently had been spending very little time in. Slowly, you began to carry more of the conversation, his responses coming slower, becoming shorter. You were both in your beds, lying sideways - he had set the computer on his lap, now barely visible through the dim light. 

After who knows how long, you realized you had been talking and hardly heard a response from Steve. You paused, only hearing his slow, deep breathing. He was asleep, finally. Your initial response was relief - he needed to be up early, and if this is what it took for him to finally fall asleep, that was enough for you. But, another small part of you was indescribably sad. Sad for the man on the other end of the call, who was still a boy in so many ways, who couldn’t spend his nights alone, but probably often did…until recently.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you whispered. He, of course, didn’t hear. Maybe that was for the best.

When you hung up, it didn’t take you long to fall asleep. Your last thought before you drifted off was of Steve, and the way he had said I just really wanted to see your face.

*******

For the rest of Steve’s trip, you two fell into a routine - he’d call you late at night. You’d chat about your respective days, just catch up. Sometimes, he’d vent about his frustrations with work; other times, he’d just keep asking about you. It was the night before he came back that it came up.

“You’ll probably be relieved to come home tomorrow,” you said.

“Definitely,” he admitted. He was ready for bed, only wearing a white t-shirt from what you could see on-camera, back pressed against the headboard of his bed. He sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “I really need a break, even if it’s just for the weekend.”

“Yeah,” you said. “We don’t have to do something on Saturday, by the way. In case you’re tired from traveling.”

“No! I mean, I want to see you. My flight gets in around 9am, so maybe we can do dinner?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” you replied, fighting the encroaching excitement at the thought of being with him again. “Just let me know.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, after a moment. “Wait, it’s Friday night - why are you at home?”

There’s an unspoken question in there: you didn’t stay home just for me, right?

You shrugged. “Robin’s out with Vickie, and - I don’t know, I thought about going out, doing something, but I just didn’t really feel like it.”

“Oh, okay - just making sure. Because, you’re twenty - if you want to do something fun over the weekend, it’s okay -”

“Almost twenty-one,” you joked, not even thinking as you said it. He paused, eyebrows raised.

“Almost? Is your birthday soon?”

You looked up, shrugging. “Oh, yeah - it’s next week, on the 18th.”

“Do you have something planned for it?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, not really. Maybe Robin and I will go out to dinner with some friends, or something. I don’t know, I’ve never been big on my birthday.”

He paused for a moment, and you were suddenly afraid that he’d ask why. But, he didn’t. Instead, he just said, “Well, your 21st birthday is kind of a big deal.”

“I mean, in the States, yes. But, I can already go out to a bar here, so the novelty’s kind of worn off. Just means I’m another year older, really.”

“But, still… it’s worth celebrating, right?”

You shrugged, maintaining an air of nonchalance.

“Sure, I guess.”

It went silent for a moment, Steve evidently starting to open a new tab and start typing on his computer.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothing, just… thinking.”

You just shrugged, choosing to not even worry about it. Knowing him, he was probably responding to work emails, despite it being nearly midnight. 

“You don’t want to do too much of that, you know,” you said sarcastically.

Steve scoffed, tearing his eyes from the screen back to you.

“You know, I’ve been keeping a list of all these clever quips you’ve been throwing my way,” he said.

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do with that?”

He smiled then, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Make sure I find ways to shut you up, once I get back.”

You nearly choked on nothing, ears roaring as the blood rushed to your head. Steve must’ve noticed how caught off-guard you were, the way your mouth hung open, eyes wide. He smirked, clearly self-satisfied. That alone helped you regain your footing. In a measured voice, you replied:

“I hope that’s a promise, sir.”

His eyes darkened a bit, and he smiled.

“Take your clothes off. Right now.”

Who were you to say no to that? 

******

When you woke up the next morning, strangely, there wasn’t a text from Steve. You frowned at your phone, blinking groggily. It was Saturday, and nearly noon - after spreading yourself on camera for Steve, both of you coming together with each other’s names on your lips, you had fallen into a deep, blissful sleep. Despite your lie-in, Steve should’ve touched down back in Rome by now. You had figured, at the very least, that he would’ve sent you a text with instructions for tonight.

You groaned, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, before slowly rolling out of bed. As you padded down the hallway, you heard movement in the kitchen. Robin must’ve already been awake. You prayed that she had already made coffee - if she hadn’t eaten yet, maybe you two would order something, or go out.

“Hey, Robs?” you called, stifling a yawn. “Is there coffee on? Because if not -”

You stopped in your tracks. Because, standing in your kitchen with Robin, was Steve. He was dressed casually, just in jeans and a black t-shirt, leaning against the counter with one hand shoved in his pocket, the other grasping a mug. He straightened up when he saw you, smiling.

“Oh - hey,” you said stiffly, trying to figure out if you were still dreaming or not.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Robin said brightly. She immediately handed you a mug of coffee, knowing you well enough that she didn’t even have to ask. You accepted it, eyes darting back and forth between her and Steve.

“I - what are you doing here?” you asked. Realizing you sounded accusatory, you added, “It’s just - I hadn’t heard anything, I didn’t realize you were coming over -”

“Oh, this is a surprise,” he assured, smiling. Even after a week of not seeing him in-person, you felt your heart quicken at the sight of him - how boyishly handsome he was, how he stared at you like you were the only thing in the room.

“A surprise?” you echoed.

“Yeah,” Robin added. “See, Steve asked if he could come over - wait, how did you even get my number?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got my ways, Buckley.”

Robin just rolled her eyes. “Well, anyway - Steve came over because, well, he wanted to talk about some stuff. Well, ask me about - why don’t you tell her?” she asked, redirecting her attention to Steve.

“Right, yeah, okay.”

He locked eyes with you, grinning. “Pack your bags, we’re leaving today, for a week.”

“Leaving? For where?”

“That’s a surprise,” he said. “But, we’re taking a trip, just you and me. And, I came over to run it by Robin, and to assure her that I’m not planning on murdering you. Which, by the way, I would’ve done by now if I wanted to.”

Robin shrugged, taking a sip from her mug.

“Can’t ever be too careful.”

You shook your head. 

“I - so, what’s going on? Why is this a surprise? And, don’t you have work?”

“I took the week off,” he assured. “In my seven years in this company, I’ve never taken a vacation. Not a personal day, anything. I’ve accrued a lot, and this is a pretty damn good reason to use it.”

You cocked an eyebrow, confused.

“What is?”

Steve’s eyes flitted up and down your form once, before settling his gaze back on yours, smiling warmly. You were still in your pajamas, and probably should’ve been embarrassed. But, with the way he was looking at you, you found it hard to be.

“This vacation, it’s my gift to you,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

*******

author's note: thanks for your patience, everyone. The next last few chapters are going to be longer, and have a lot more "plot" (aka fluff and angst). I also can't keep a taglist for this fic anymore - it's too long, which is a nice problem to have, but still a problem! To make sure you never miss an installment, make sure to turn on post notifications for the blog. Also keep an eye out for my new Steve series, coming soon. As always, thank you to Em - she knows why :)

KO-FI ♡

[fanfoolishness]

When You Wake

Written for the @summer-of-bad-batch prompts "Hold still" and "Don't avoid the question."

Hunter wonders what he will tell Omega after she wakes up from her injuries. Set during Plan 99. Angst, grief, overall sads. ~1895 words.

---

“Please, CT-9901. Hold still,” AZI said. Hunter knew the medical droid’s voice was meant to be soothing, but the words were like shattered transparisteel, tearing at his ears.

Hunter took a deep breath. Tried to listen to the droid. But his eyes kept darting to where Omega lay huddled limply on the bed, still unconscious. Wrecker sat at her bedside, trying to remain strong for her. But the brace around his neck, the slump of his shoulders, the raggedness of the rise and fall of his chest all showed he was barely doing better than she was. 

“Why won’t she wake up?” Hunter asked in a hoarse voice as the droid continued placing a sturdy wrap around his chest.

“She will,” AZI said. “You must give her time. She experienced a concussion and pulmonary contusions. She will recover, but even with my care recovery is not instantaneous. All of your injuries are serious, and will take time to mend.”

Hunter bit his lip as the droid finished wrapping his chest. Between the extra support and the medication the droid had already given him, the pain was finally receding. 

The physical pain, anyway.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about the fall. Don’t --

“Am I good?” Hunter muttered.

“Yes, CT-9901. You will make a full recovery with appropriate rest. Would you like me to stay in here and continue monitoring Omega, or --”

“Go. Please.”

Hunter exhaled heavily. The droid had saved them; Hunter didn’t know what would have happened to Omega or Wrecker without AZI’s work, but Hunter couldn’t stand looking at him and his cheerful demeanor a moment longer. 

“I will be waiting in the bar, should anything in her condition change.” The droid hovered out of sight, his servos buzzing and grating. Everything felt too loud right now, too sharp, too much.

Hunter stiffly got to his feet, resting a hand briefly on Wrecker’s back for support. Together they looked down at Omega, neither of them able to speak.

Hunter shuddered, remembering the sight and smell of her little cap, soaked through with blood. Luckily AZI had been able to stitch the wound in her scalp and clean her hair, though Hunter could still pick up a faint whiff of dried blood in the thick, close air of the back room. 

How could she look so calm right now, like nothing had happened?

When everything had happened?

Wrecker painstakingly stood up, face twisting with effort. “Here. You -- you should sit with her. I’ll go.”

Hunter looked into his brother’s face, seeing puffy, reddened eyes. “But what do I say to her? When she wakes up?”

Wrecker shook his head, tears threatening again. “I don’t know. I can’t -- don’t -- don’t make me.” He grimaced, looking past Hunter as if seeing something far away. “She won’t wanna see me. I could’ve stopped him, Hunter -- I could’ve saved --”

Wrecker, get him up here!

Hunter reached out a trembling hand. Laid it on Wrecker’s shoulder. Shook his head. “No you couldn’t,” he said, voice dull and empty. “And neither could I.”

---

They’d talked about it once, days before their first mission.

Tech glowed. He scribbled his thoughts on the walls, plans a dozen times over, a manic burst of ideas. There were plans where Hunter infiltrated, where Wrecker smashed or exploded, where Tech used the Seppies’ own droids against them, where Crosshair set off a chain reaction with his mirrors. They strategized long into the night, nearly giddy with making up more plans: some of them insane, some of them just good clean fun blowing up clankers. 

Until Crosshair swiped Tech’s datapad five hours past lights out, scrolling down idly and then looking puzzled. “You haven’t gone over this one. What’s Plan 99? There’s no details, nothing else, just the number.” 

Tech grabbed it back. “Ah. It’s -- it’s nothing.”

“Tech, it’s always something with you,” said Hunter. 

“Yeah. Don’t avoid the question,” Wrecker said, yawning. “Unless Plan 99’s going to bed an’ getting some shut-eye. These plans are fun, Tech, but I’m never gonna remember ‘em all.”

Tech frowned. “Very well. You recall 99, our fellow defective clone.”

“Old 99,” Wrecker said, his eyes going soft. “He was a hero.”

“He showed those regs a thing or two,” Crosshair said, nodding respectfully. “But what’s he got to do with our plans? He’s been gone a long time.”

Hunter sighed. “I think I know what it means.” He gave Tech a long look. “Self-sacrifice, is it?”

Tech nodded. “We are soldiers and clones. Statistically speaking, it is highly unlikely that we will die of old age. I had thought that discussing it now might bring down the mood, so to speak, so I had not mentioned it before.” He looked around at them, the smiles from a few minutes ago all faded. “I see I was correct.”

“You all can be emotional about it if you want,” Crosshair scoffed. “But I wouldn’t miss any of you.”

“Bantha shit,” Wrecker said, punching Crosshair in the shoulder. Crosshair winced, rubbing his shoulder hard and scowling. “You’d miss me the most, and you know it!”

“That is irrelevant, if the mission requires it,” Tech said. “As it well may, in service of the greater good.”

“Look, Tech, don’t tell me the odds,” Hunter said. “Let’s just do our best to get through the war. This squad is something special. The regs might call it being defective, but I call it being better. That’s how we’re gonna get through this war -- being better together. So that means Plan 99 should only be the ultimate last resort. Understood?”

“Understood,” Wrecker and Crosshair said.

“Of course,” Tech agreed, blinking and adjusting his goggles. “I have no desire to implement Plan 99. It is only that it is a possibility that must be considered.”

---

A possibility.

An eventuality.

Hunter sat in the chair, his skin crawling, his mind blank hissing static.

Omega still lay unconscious, her heartbeat pulsing faintly, a soft rhythm he could sense beneath her gentle exhalations. The rhythm was slightly off from what he had attuned himself to on countless nights on the Marauder, its pattern disturbed by injury. But AZI had said she would be waking up, and soon.

What could Hunter possibly say to her?

He sat there, desperately hoping she would wake up and be all right, desperately hoping she would stay asleep. If she kept sleeping, he wouldn’t have to see her face when she woke up and realized Tech was gone.

She breathed in. Breathed out. He reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair back from her cheek. His hand froze, and he pulled it back.

He closed his eyes, but then there was Tech’s voice in his mind, resolute, determined, resigned. When have we ever followed orders? 

He couldn’t dwell on that. Couldn’t listen to it again. He reached out, opening his senses, desperately seeking distraction. Anything to keep the memory from playing back again and again. His leg twitched, jittering up and down as he opened his senses as fully as he could.

The room air pressed in on him, warm and stuffy and suffocating. A bead of sweat dripped down his cheek, having slipped past his bandanna. The whine of Cid’s neon lights in the next room buzzed and prickled in his ears. He took a deep breath of the warm air, pulling in the smell of stale alcohol, crumbs of Mantell mix ground into the floorboards, hints of blood and sweat and body odor of a dozen different species. 

The floor in the hallway creaked, the sound consistent with someone stopping at the door and looking inside the room. Hunter didn’t bother turning around to see who it was. He knew it was Cid, between the pattern of the footfalls, the pitch of the creaking, the metallic scents of Trandoshan pheromones. His nose twitched, picking up a difference in Cid’s scent. Something was off with her pheromones, but he didn’t know enough about her species to guess what it meant. Maybe it was worry for the kid. Maybe it was regret. Maybe she was just hungry. 

He didn’t know, didn’t care. The slow heavy footsteps started up again, kept going down the hall.

His hand slid to his gauntlet, unsheathing his blade. Twirling the blade had become a habit long ago, as unconscious and automatic as Crosshair chewing his toothpicks or Tech scrolling his datapad. He hesitated, the blade’s weight and heft wholly familiar in his hand, and yet something seemed off. 

He twirled it lazily. No, nothing was wrong with the knife. He picked up the rhythm, blade spinning dangerously between his fingers -- 

Kriff. The blade clattered to the floor, narrowly avoiding slicing through his glove. It rattled him, looking down at it laying between his feet. 

Nothing was wrong with the blade. It was wrong with him.

Hunter picked up the blade, shoving it roughly back into his gauntlet. What was he doing? Stupid distractions when he should be thinking about Omega. About what he could possibly say to her.

I’m sorry, kid. We couldn’t save him. Nobody could. (But what if Wrecker had been able to get him up in time? What if we’d been faster getting out? What if we’d waited for backup?)

I’m sorry, Omega. Tech knew it was the only way.  (Did he? He was a genius. He should have figured something else out! How could he have fucked up like this? How could he leave us like this?)

I’m sorry I failed him. And you. And Crosshair. (Crosshair should’ve come with us, should’ve left the Empire when he had the chance. Then we would’ve never gone to Eriadu. This is his damn fault, all of it!)

I’m sorry I wasn’t a better leader. I’m so sorry, kid. 

(It’s on me. All of it. All of it.)

The pain roared within him, but it wasn’t the pain of broken ribs and torn muscles. It went deeper than that, dug itself deep into the very heart of him, emptied him out of everything but guilt and loss and disbelief. It took his breath away. He wrapped his arms around his injured chest, fingers digging into his sides, squeezing hard enough that the physical pain broke through again. He threw himself into it, drowned himself in the way his body jangled and ached.

He panted, grimacing. This he could deal with. This he could live with. But the emptiness, the awful truth that Tech was gone -- how was he supposed to live with that? How was he supposed to help Omega through it?

Hunter slumped forward, releasing his grip, taking a deep, jagged breath. His head swam.

He didn’t know how to do it.

He was going to do it anyway.

Hunter swallowed, nodding, and sat up despite the way his body protested. He watched Omega resting, her young face forgetful for just a little while longer.

He’d be there for her, no matter what. His resolve hardened, and he thought of sunny days on Pabu, the sound of waves on the beach, a town of people who did not practice war. He thought of childhood, something none of them had ever known. 

He hadn’t been able to save Crosshair from himself or the Empire.

He hadn’t been able to save Tech.

He’d save Omega if it killed him.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, kid,” Hunter whispered. “I promise.”

[tdinyomomma]

Not Quite Famous- TDI X Reader (Chapter Five)

If You Haven’t Read: Four

"Okay, this is so-way-beyond bad. I'm out of fake tanner already." Lindsay whines, telling Gwen and I her dilemma. I looked down from my bunk bed as I was reading my book. "Whoa, that's tragic, Lindsay." Gwen sarcastically comments. "Now, I have to actually like suntan, in the sun." The blonde complains, "Do you realize how shriveled and wrinkly that can make your skin?" She sounds distressed as she gets up and goes over to Gwen, "Oh, you totally do." She frowns. My jaw slacks open in shock. Does this girl really not have common sense or is this a joke that only she's in on?

"All right, campers, enough beauty sleep. Time to show us what you're made of!" Chris announces over the P.A. after loudly blaring an alarm.

I sigh, placing my book down, jumping off my bed. I fix my clothes, turning to Gwen. "I wonder what stupid thing we're doing today." I smirk and she chuckles, agreeing. "Totally, at least we're actually rested for this one." She points out, getting up as well to change into her daily clothes.

"True, I'll see you wherever we're meeting." I nudged her gently, walking away not realizing I made her blush from the short interaction.

We all sat by this stage on bleachers, Gophers on one side, Bass on the other. "Are we gonna see a musical?" Lindsay questions what's going on with the stage. I roll my eyes. "I love musicals, especially the ones with singing and dancing." She clasps her hands together and I shake my head, sighing because of her stupidity. I look over to see Gwen making her way over to us and I wave her down. "Gwen! I saved you a spot!" I grin, she sits down. "Thanks." She blushes, Cody unfortunately comes over and sits on the opposite side of me.

Behind the three is Heather, glaring down at Gwen in annoyance.

Trent also decides to sit with us but he sits next to Gwen who doesn't know that the boy has feelings for her, and is flirting. Cody smiles at me, as usual and I awkwardly ignore him, thanking the gods when Chris starts speaking. "Welcome to our brand new, deluxe state-of-the-art outdoor amphitheater." He greets us, showing off the stage.

"Okay, this weeks challenge is a summer camp favorite, a talent contest." He says and I frown at the announcement but Owen of course cheers like he does for every single thing we get told. "Yes! Awesome!" He shouts.

"Each team has 8 hours to pick their three most talented campers. These three will represent them in the show tonight. Sing, dance, juggle. Anything goes as long as it's legal." He makes eye contact with Duncan, also motioning to him so he knows. Duncan snaps in disappointment.

"You'll be judged by our resident talent scout, former D.J V.J and rap legend Grand Master Chef who will show his approval via the Chef-O-Meter." He points up and something dings a few times. "The team that loses will send one camper home tonight. Good luck." He walks away, I take a deep breath. Three people means I don't have to try out for some talent so I could really care less about who they pick.

Gwen and I stand up together, and we go back to our cabins picking spots to do the judging.

We sit on our cabin's porch, Heather in front of us wearing a whistle around her neck and holding a clipboard. Blowing into the whistle she speaks up. "Okay, I'm the team captain, so here's how it's going to work." She says with authority. "Wait, who said you were team captain?" Gwen questions, holding a book in her arms. "She did. Just now." Lindsay acts as if that was obvious. We knew Heather picked herself but the team didn't agree to it.

"Lindsay, Beth and I took a vote and I won." The mean girl smiles. "Threatening them to vote for you isn't exactly democratic." Gwen explains and Trent comes over with a muffin in hand. "Hey, snagged you an extra muffin." He whispers, Gwen smiles. "Oh, thank you but [Name] already gave me hers as an extra, sorry." She rubs the back of her head. "Oh, no problem." He takes it back, holding it to his chest.

"Trent, you're cool with me leading this project, aren't you?" Heather asks him. "Right on, go for it." He says.

"Good, Beth, Lindsay and I will be the judges." She proudly states. "Whatever." Gwen sighs and I raise a brow at the whole interaction.

Now one by one each person shows off their talent of who wants to even show it off. Owen's first, drinking a whole liter of soda. "Are you gonna audition?" Trent turns to Gwen, "Doubtful." She replies. "You should be in this, Trent, you play an instrument." I remind him and I can tell he got annoyed from me being there but oh well. "True!" Gwen nods, looking up at me. "Are you going to do anything? Didn't you say you play the drums?"

"No," I nervously laugh, "I did say that but I'm not auditioning." The only things I know how to play on the drums are from my embarrassing metal loving past. And I am far from being that person. "I'm sure it would've been awesome but I get it." She leans back on me since I'm sitting behind her on the stairs just one above hers.

Owen starts burping the ABC's, the guys all root for the guy as most of the girls look disgusted. "Yes!" Owen punches the air. "That was excellent, man." Trent high fives him, Heather scoffs. "Well, you're not going to do that in this contest. That's disgusting." She exasperates.

"Do you know how hard it is to burp the entire alphabet in one go?" Trent stands up for the bigger blond boy who ends up ruining it by bending over. "I can also toot Beethoven Fifth."

"No! No, no, no." The girls try to shield themselves. "Owen." Lindsay whines, Gwen starts to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Heather integrates her. "Anywhere that's not here." She carries on with where she was heading.

We move on from whatever that was and Heather shows us her ballet moves, wearing a light pink leotard and tu-tu. We all clap at the end. "Thank you." Everyone continues to clap and she looks over at her minions, clearing her throat. "Oh, I vote for Heather to be in the contest!" The blonde one out of the two raises her hand. "I second that." Beth agrees. "Guys, that's so sweet. Okay, so I guess I'm in. Why doesn't everyone take five?" She disbands everyone. "Except you [Name]! Wait right there!" Heather calls after me, I scrunch my nose in confusion but do as I'm told, leaning against the porch railing as she talks to Lindsay about something.

She gives the girl a walkie talkie then shoves her away.

"What did you need me for?" I quiz as she walks up to me. "I thought about what you said. I want to be friends. Real friends." She smiles, I glance around to see if this is some sort of joke since we're alone. "I'm serious." She folds her arms. "Okay." I shrug, going to head back inside the cabin. "Wait, that's it?" She exclaims loudly and I snicker. "We're friends now, what else do you want? A ceremony declaring it to everyone?" I joke, she stays silent for a moment. "I don't know, I just thought there was more to this."

I shake my head. "Nope, just acting normal. Can I go now?" I ask and she only nods in return.

I ended up joining the group by sitting on the picnic tables as Izzy did her audition. "I call this the dance!... Of the Rattlesnake!" She dances getting in Owen's face while making a noise, the bigger boy actually looks hypnotized.

Then there was Beth, Lindsay and Heather joined us in watching more of the auditions. The shorter girl is twirling fire boutons. "Are you sure this is safe?" Heather gasps and the four of us lean back when she gets too close. "It's okay, I've been practicing." She throws them in the air but she runs when it starts to fall down and we all hide behind the tables.

"I kind of missed the catching class." We all crowd the burnt hole in the ground.

"Uh, guys the bush is on fire." Trent points. Justin comes out and extinguishes the fire out wearing sunshades. Leshawna brings him a bottle of water, for some reason he rips his shirt off while drinking the water. Everyone drools over him while I stand there not understanding what's going on.

"Okay, so I think it's me, Trent and Justin. Any objections?" Heather asks, everyone shakes their head and I just walk away. What's his talent though?

I sit in the cabin on Gwen's bed and start to read my book once again. I also changed into my bathing suit since it was getting hotter outside and I thought about going to the water.

I hear talking outside the door then it opens to reveal Gwen.

"Hey, I'm going to the water, wanna join?" she smiles, turning around to change, I stare down at my now closed book. "Mmm, I might not swim but of course I'll join you."I place the book down, averting my eyes from her as she finishes changing and we leave the cabin.

"You're joining here?" Heather scoffs. "Yeah, I'll see you later, darling!" I wave her goodbye jokingly using a fake British accent. "You two are friends?" Gwen turns to me and I shrug. "Sort of." I question it, myself. "Oh so you do charity now?" She jokes and I laugh. "I've been doing Charities for ever now, I got you, remember?" I tease and she gasps, playfully pushing me and we both burst into laughter.

We sit down on the dock and calm ourselves, watching the moves of the water.

"Sometimes I just need to get away from everyone here, you know?" She sighs, "I mean it's like they're all driving me crazy." She pauses then smiles at me. "Well, almost all of them." She blushes and I mentally gasp.

Does Gwen have a thing for me? No, I could be imagining things. The sun is bright today. My thoughts are cut short when the dock starts shaking. We look behind us to see Cody and Owen running down. "Cannonball!!!" Owen shouts, the two jumping and the water splashes mainly Gwen. "Ugh! I hate this place!" She storms off.

"Nice going you idiots." I shake my head. "Yeah, nice going guy.."

I huff, leaving the place as well and going towards the bathrooms. I hear crying from inside one of the stalls so I hesitantly head over to it. "Hey, is everything okay in there?" I ask a bit loudly so the person knows it's for them. "Mm, no but-" they sniffled. "I'll be fine, I guess." From the voice it sounds like Courtney. "Want to talk about it?" I offer, backing away from the door once I hear the person unlocking it and then coming out.

"Oh, it's you." She seems disappointed so I apologize.

"What's going on, pumpkin?" I go over to the sink, washing my hands and face. "Don't call me that and you're on the other team I'm not telling you anything." She folds her arms, her tears air drying on her face. "I get that but I can still be a friend to vent to." I look at her through the mirror, smiling.

She doesn't say anything, obviously considering it. "I'm sorry-" "Don't apologize, you're thinking of what's best for your team." I turn around and go up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Good luck with the talent contest." I close my eyes smiling before heading out of the bathroom.

I join my team in sitting on the bleachers, being next to Gwen as usual.

"It's the T.D.I. Talent Extravaganza!" Chris shouts. "Welcome to the very first camp Wawanakwa talent contest, where six campers will showcase their mad skills and desperately try not to humiliate themselves. First up for the Screaming Gophers is Justin!" Chris declares, we clap and cheer for our teammate, and as he performs it's just him posing a bunch of different ways and then ending it with him leaning back in a chair and dumping water on himself.

"There are two syllables for hot, "Jus "" and "Tin." Man, that guy is just so hot I could kiss him." Owen's eyes go wide from what he just said. "Because he's a good teammate. Dah, why'd I say that?" He beats himself up.

"I don't see why people gawk at Justin. He's a man who uses his attractiveness to get this. Plus as I said. He's a man." [Name] rolls her eyes.

"Okay, I don't know what that was, but dang you got some moves, dude." Chris puts his thumb up and the Chef score moves pretty high. Eight out of Ten."First up for the Killer Bass, make some noise for the big guy, DJ!" He calls and DJ des some ribbon dance, but gets caught on the pink ribbon a few times.

"Dainty and Masculine, let's see what Grandmaster Chef thinks." It was only two points. "Not much." DJ frowns and sadly walks off the stage.

"So, with two down and four acts to go, it's the Screaming Gophers screaming ahead. Next on deck... Trent! Take it away my bro." The boy comes on stage with his guitar, sitting down on a stool. "This one goes out to someone special here at camp." I wince, and hide my face knowing it's for Gwen who does not reciprocate the same feelings. She acts oblivious, not knowing it's for her either. I zone out through the whole song, not wanting to cringe out.

Chris runs out at the last strum, "Nice work, I'm liking your style, dude. So does the Grandmaster Chef." He got half score and for some reason waves at the camera for a really long time.

"All right, quit hogging my light, buddy." Chris shoves him and I try not to laugh. "Three down and three to go, and the Killer Bass are totally sucking so far. Let's hear it for Bridgette."She doesn't come out right away and then shows up doing a handstand. Burping and then throwing up, projectile vomiting. "I'm hit! I'm hit!" Owen shouts.

She continues and hits Katie and Sadie who scream, Katie throwing up as well. And then hits most of my team with her vomit. Luckily Gwen and I didn't get hit.

The poor girl slips and falls off stage and onto tyler. "Hey, puke on your own boyfriend!" Lindsay shouts at the girl who was just sick all over the place. "On your own what, Lindsay?" Heather questions angrily, hands on her hips. "I didn't say boyfriend." The blonde back tracks.

Chris plugs his nose, coming back out on stage. "Clean up on aisle three, four, five and six. In the meantime, we'll take a short break to hose the joint down." He says.

"Going home won't be so bad. I could always work at the surf shack." Bridgette frowns, wiping a tear.

"Welcome back to the T.D.I talent Extravaganza! Okay, so in a strange turn of events, Bridgette's chunk-blowing fest registered two thumbs up by Grandmaster Chef. But it's not enough to pull ahead of the Screaming Gophers who hold the lead with Trents love song. So without further delay here she is for the leaders... Heather!" Chris announces and the girl walks out on stage, sitting on a stool.

"Originally, I was going to dance for you but instead I want to celebrate team spirit with a collaboration." She holds out a familiar book, I tilt my head. She gently shakes it a bit, staring at Gwen. "She wouldn't." Gwen whispers after gasping and I sat there in shock. "No fucking way." I shake my head. "So with words by Gwen, performance by me, enjoy." She clears her throat before reading it off.

"Okay, so I tried just being her friend, but she's just so cute. If they were trying to find the perfect person to distract me with her they got the right one, McGorgeous. We just totally connect. She's pretty much the only person I trust and relate to here and I know it's a cliche but I love how different we are but also so similar. She's so nice to everyone! Even Heather."

Gwen slides off the bleacher and runs off, I furrow my eyebrows in anger. "Thank you," Heather closes the book and makes eye contact with me. I flip her off then run after Gwen.

"People thought I was mean to Gwen. Whatever. All I needed was four votes against Justin. Lindsay and Beth were easy. Izzy's just crazy and Owen, piece of cake." She looks at her nails.

Owen's eating a piece of cake giggling. "Piece of cake." He hums.

I finally catch up with Gwen who was holding herself. "Hey-"

"Could you please save me the embarrassment for right now." She cries out, not looking at me and I frown at the sight.

"But-"

"Please, we can talk later on." She pleads and walks away and I decide to listen to her, plopping down on a tree stump to think about everything that just went down.

"Kudos to you all for an incredible night of entertainment, music, drama, barfing." We all hold our marshmallows and now Gwen is avoiding me so I stand next to Leshawna, staring down at the white fluff in my hands.

"There's only one marshmallow on this plate. Justin you reminded us all that looks matter a lot. And Heather you're full of surprises, but reading another chick's diary out loud to the whole world? Man, that is whack. No kidding, that's really messed up dude." Chris talks in a serious tone which was weird to see since he likes the drama that radiates off of us but even he can admit that what Heather did was extremely wrong.

"Oh, please, just give me my marshmallow already." Heather rolls her eyes. "Justin, I personally think this is very wrong, but tonight hotness just wasn't enough. The last Marshmallow goes to Heather." Chris says with disappointment laced in his voice.

"Time to catch the boat of losers, bruh." Justin sadly walks away. "Later, bruh." Heather waves to him, eating her marshmallow.

"If that evil little cow thinks she's getting away with this she has another thing coming." Gwen states.

"Befriending Heather was the worst move I have made all summer, and it's just begun." [Name] huffs.

The camera catches Gwen knocking on the door to reveal Harold. "You mentioned you brought a red ant farm with you, correct?"

"Yes." He nods.

Next clip is Heather running out of the cabin screaming with ants all over her.

"Sweet dreams everyone." Gwen giggles, closing her eyes to go to sleep.

Links To Other Writings

If anyone wants to be added let me know

Taglist

@pulling-out-my-eyes

[electricbluebutterflies]

“did you ever stop and think that maybe just maybe the person you’re looking for is me?” + eddie/chrissy

PG-ish and also on ao3. I haven't written these little bbys in a hot minute and I missed them.

Chrissy floats, after.

It makes an amount of sense. Something happened – she’s still not totally sure what happened – and she spent the end of senior year in the hospital, and now-

She’s not sure who she is anymore, but nothing will ever be the same.

No one from her old life wants to talk to her that summer, she knows that much. The circumstances of the incident are too damning, and she can’t say she blames them, but also screw them all, and-

At least she has the boy who was there when it happened. The boy who most of the nurses thought was her boyfriend, apparently, and she’s pieced together bits of what happened when her consciousness wasn’t reliable and it’s all so sweet and-

Boys like that don’t actually fall in love with girls like her. Chrissy knows how the world works better than that. She’s a little uncertain of herself right now but she can’t imagine she’ll stray too far from what she’s been, whereas he’s…

If she admits to herself that she’s had a secret crush for a couple years, that makes it worse, but she’s ignoring the issue there.

Regardless, there’s also the thing where Eddie is one of the few people in her life who doesn’t treat her weird now, and if anything he’s just… decided to stay present, probably out of some weird sense of obligation but whatever. Chrissy is a little too desperate to question this, and it’s nice to have someone go out of their way for her, ask her to meet him in safe neutral places and they just talk and-

He’s midway through one of his big daydream tangents, mid-afternoon at the overgrown park that’s becoming their spot, and she could listen to him for hours and she has so often and-

Summer is almost over. She’s almost stable enough to start trying to have a normal life again, and she thinks she’d be a decent receptionist since there’s no way she’s going away for college now that she’s fragile, and she doesn’t know what he’s doing and it doesn’t seem like he knows what he’s doing either, and she feels like they’re running out of time, and-

“Did you ever stop and think that maybe, just maybe, the person you’re looking for is me?”

She broke him. That’s her first thought. Eddie Munson, infamous for having no idea when to shut up (among other things), is currently looking at her like some wire got snipped in his brain and-

“Is that… an option?”

She’d kiss him if she thought that’d get her anywhere, and she thinks she’d like kissing him, he wouldn’t be weird about it like other boys, but it would be too soon and sudden and Chrissy has spent most of her life being told not to be that way and-

“Do you want it to be?”

“Weird enough you even hang out with me, so…”

Chrissy laughs, and she knows he thinks she’s extra-cute when she does that and it’s not the point and it’s entirely the point, and-

“You saved my life. Isn’t that already the most fairytale thing you’ve ever heard?”

“You don’t owe me-“

“I know. But it got me thinking about what I want, and… you’re sweet to me, you’re a good person…”

“You really-“

Okay, now she needs to kiss him. She does, most of her body leaning across the picnic table, and it’s awkward in the way that first kisses are always awkward but also fluttery like she’s never really had before and-

“I want that,” she says like it’s the most real thing in the world. “And we can figure out everything else later, and-“

“Okay if I move over there so we can hold hands?”

“Yeah. Please.”

[bumblebeehug]

Lovely Seasons - Autumn

Summary: Happy takes a moment to observe his two best friends. Notes: Don't quote me on any hedgehog-facts Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 of the Lovely Seasons series Ao3

***

Happy felt his fur rising as the cool wind grabbed hold on the three friends. He definitely should have put some more clothes on, since his winter fur hadn’t grown in properly yet. Still though, here they were, in Natsu’s and Happy’s back yard, late in October.

Lucy had initially come over in order to tidy up their house and to hang out, but she didn’t even get inside before she started working. She wasn’t expecting their garden to be as overgrown and messy as it was - to be fair, the only time Natsu and Happy even looked at their land was to see if anything had magically grown during the summer. The last time it got remotely taken care of was when Lucy took the lead late in June, but by then most plants had already gotten quite deep roots, so she tried giving Natsu “homework” to fix it before she came over. As if that would ever happen.

She had been clearing the flower bed for almost an hour before Natsu came out to look. He had been expecting her to at least pop in to say hi before complaining about the condition of his home, so as he waited he had decided to take a nap. To say the least, he got quite an earful when he greeted her, Lucy sighing and complaining about Natsu’s “forgetful nature”. Happy was laughing like a fool - he flew out to say hi to Lucy the second he saw her from the window, so he was in the clear of any scolding.

“I cannot believe you!” Lucy’s eyebrows were close together in a fierce frown, but Natsu could see a slight grin in the corner of her mouth. “Didn’t I tell you to fix this place? You’ve got so much space and healthy soil here, do you know how much money you could be saving from groceries?”

Natsu grinned gleefully, scratching the back of his neck.

“I forgot. You’re never here anyways, so I didn’t think you’d notice.” He really wished she could come by more often though. He liked having her company, and if they were at his place she couldn’t kick him out if he annoyed her too much. Besides, Lucy coming over gave him more reason to actually keep the place tidy. He would also light the fireplace more often - as a fire mage he never needed to do that, since the house always was warm enough with him just being there, but even if he’d never tell anyone about it, he loved the cosy mood that the fireplace gave.

“Well if me coming here is all it takes for you to take your home seriously I might have to step by a few times a week. Do you know how many people there are that would kill for their own house and a big garden to take care of?” Lucy’s frown had disappeared, but her arms were still crossed to mark her slight annoyance.

Natsu just grinned. He knew that she was jealous, and rightfully so, knowing how tough it was to pay rent to an annoying landlord every month. A landlord who would do almost anything to get rid of you, to add.

“You could always move in with us,” he half-joked. Lucy would probably rather have a one-on-one fight with Erza than to live with a man before marriage, but Natsu knew that his offer was tempting. “But you’d have to deal with the stench from Happy’s fish-stash.”

“Yeah no, fat chance,” she scoffed, turning her back to return to her digging.

“Rude!” Happy exclaimed. His fish was always fresh and of highest quality - with his trained nose he could smell bad fish immediately. “He’s right though Lushy! You make yummier food than Natsu, and maybe he’d get a proper bed if you lived here!”

Lucy just shook her head, desensitised to their pleads. They sounded the exact same when they wanted to fill Erza’s dorm with worms, so she knew they were being unreasonable. Though, the offer was tempting. No money would go to rent or heating, and they could use that extra money to renovate any rotten parts of the house. Before she got too convinced to accept the offer, she grabbed a rake and started raking up leaves, earning a tired look from Natsu. Yard work was boring enough for him to experience the most tear jerking yawn in history, probably.

Happy watched as Lucy made their lawn more pleasing. She looked serious yet happy, despite acting angry at Natsu. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail to keep it out of her face, and maybe to hide the fact that it was a bit greasy. It still looked good though, and she was dressed in a big warm jacket and a warm chequered scarf that was wrapped twice around her neck. Happy thought it looked a bit suffocating, but he knew he was in no place to comment on it, since he was freezing a bit himself in today’s weather. Lucy still wore the minimal amount of clothing needed on her legs, standing in one of her short skirts and a pair of tights underneath them. Good thing she was moving, because that looked cold. Natsu stood behind her, arms crossed in lack of any instructions. He was dressed as usual, even sporting the slippers on bare feet - in his defence he thought Lucy would come in when he went out to greet her. It didn’t matter thanks to his warm nature, but it was seriously unsettling to see that outfit a day like this. Well, Happy was used to it, but it still looked silly.

“Heeeey…” Natsu moaned, not too pleased with today’s chores. “Do we have to do this now? Aren’t you cold?” As he complained he started leaning on Lucy, making her lose her balance for a split second.

“Heey, yes we have to do this now. It won’t be cold if I keep moving.” Lucy groaned slightly as Natsu continued leaning against her, with more weight now. “Besides, don’t you want to make autumn cosy for the hedgehogs?”

Natsu’s interest piqued slightly.

“Well how do I do that?” He mumbled, standing back up on his own legs. Lucy smiled a little. Natsu never said no to helping animals, unless he could eat them - then he hunted them.

“Well you see, if we rake all the leaves in your garden and leave them in a big pile, the hedgehogs can dig through them and live there for some nights. The leaves work as insulation, so when their body heat radiates off of them, they’ll have a nice warm room to sleep in!” Lucy explained, getting a bit excited herself. “We can also leave out wet cat food and water, if it’s above freezing temperatures at night. That way it will be like a bed & breakfast!”

Natsu looked really excited. Calling it a bed & breakfast was definitely stretching the truth, but it was enough for Natsu to feel motivated to help her. He grabbed another rake and started working, making sure to get every single leaf. Happy, who still felt colder than he would like, flew into Natsu’s scarf, stretching his body over his neck. It made the work a bit harder for Natsu, now that he couldn’t freely move his neck and shoulders, but the work got done nevertheless. A big pile of yellow, orange, red and brown leaves stood in the middle of Natsu’s backyard, high and proud. Lucy had worked up a sweat and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

“It turned out great!” Lucy beamed, looking at their work.

“But how do hedgehogs live in there? They don’t have rooms or anything!” Happy puzzled, now waking up from his short nap.

Natsu lit up with an idea.

“Happy, you go in there and make rooms for them! It’ll be the perfect size, and Lucy and I can make little doors!” Before Lucy could protest, Happy had already gotten thrown into the pile of leaves.

“Wait, you’ll mess it all up! Stop this!” Lucy tried to grab Happy, but somehow he was already lost in there. She could hear snickering but no matter how many times she stuck in her arms, he always seemed to be too fast.

“Now you’re the one messing up,” Natsu snickered, getting kind of impressed by how fast the leaves returned to their original position, spreading out all over the lawn again.

Lucy, who got annoyed over how things turned out, could only grab a handful of leaves and throw them in Natsu’s face in an attempt to wipe that grin off. One throw led to another, and soon enough leaves were flying around as the two mages tried to smash the biggest amount of dirty wet leaves in the other party’s face. Happy, who no longer had a pile of leaves to hide in, had flown to the side so he could brush off the worst of the dirt. Laughter and yelps of surprise filled the air as Lucy and Natsu chased each other down. To their defence, leaves were no easy weapons, especially when the wind managed to make every throw into a curveball.

As Happy watched them, he caught himself with a huge smile. Natsu and Lucy were always so fun to be with - never had he felt seriously bored or upset with them. Natsu could be called a mastermind with his great creativity. He was more cunning than he himself understood, solving many fights by using his head to find loopholes with enemies. He also always made sure the three of them had something to do. While Lucy could entertain herself with a book, the boys rarely found themselves satisfied with such mellow activities. And that was where Natsu came in, often dragging them out on new adventures of all sorts. If the guild wasn’t open with missions, he’d take them to the park, or the mountains, or maybe the ocean if he could bear with the train ride. All of these adventures always ended up to be so fun, Happy found. They could be a bit scary at times, raising their adrenaline, but they always managed to get out safely. After all, Natsu would always protect them from any possible dangers. If you asked him, he’d probably claim it was his job, though Lucy would disagree. Lucy’s greatness didn’t come from her creativity. Well, some of it did, but that wasn’t what Happy liked most about her. In Happy’s eyes, Lucy was the definition of safety, believe it or not. Natsu might be the one that took the most pride in protecting them all, but he was also the one that most times put them in danger. Lucy on the other hand brought comfort in the calmer parts of Happy’s life. Early mornings and late evenings were glazed with Lucy’s stories from her childhood, as she told them about the small things that made her life in the mansion manageable. She would tell them about her mother’s early morning walks, and Natsu would make it a habit to open a window to let the fresh morning air in. Lucy would describe the tea that Layla drank when she felt drained from her hectic life, and then she would serve it after dinner, when the birds had quieted down outside. Even without focusing on the calm attributes Lucy had, Happy still loved her presence. When Natsu did or said stupid things, Happy could joke about it with Lucy and she’d be completely on Happy’s side, even furthering the joke at Natsu’s expense. Other times Lucy would do the stupid thing herself, and thanks to their deep bond Happy could joke about it without any hard feelings. Her reactions to the crazy daily lives they led, were big and raw and frankly, quite hilarious. Even after being a guild mage for many years, she found a lot of things baffling. Maybe it was the way someone talked, or maybe it was a fact about a big animal that roamed the forests. Her emotions had always been perfectly in tune with Happy and Natsu, and Happy could only love her for it. He had never laughed as loud as he had with Lucy, and he never slept as good as he did in Lucy’s bed, in between her and Natsu.

So watching them play around like this in the murky nature, truly filled Happy’s heart. He knew they cared deeply about each other - they cared about Happy too, just not in the same way. While Lucy would look at Happy with love and affection, she’d gaze at Natsu with longing, admiration and pure joy. She looked at Natsu with so many emotions that only calling it love would be dull in comparison. Natsu would be tender and kind to Happy, making sure he felt seen and loved at every possible moment, but the way he treated Lucy was once again beyond those actions. They’d be soft, slow, attentive, and they’d hold fondness, devotion and respect like none other. Happy knew about their feelings towards each other, but he chose not to say anything. Not because he didn’t want them to get together - he just knew that they’d find the right way eventually. The occasional “he liiiiikes you” would of course slip out in a playful manner, but since the joke had run empty for a long time it never seemed to bother anyone.

As the laughter quieted down, Happy started paying attention to the mages again. It looked like Lucy had called time out, as she stood catching her breath and reaching down into her collar to scoop out the wet leaves Natsu had managed to get in there.

“Can we continue with the cleaning up tomorrow?” Natsu asked, no longer feeling up to recreating the hedgehog-bed & breakfast. “I bet you wanna wash off.”

Sneaky move, Happy thought, since Natsu knew how much Lucy loved long, warm showers - especially after getting cold and dirty like this.

“... Fine. But tomorrow we get the garden ready for winter, I don’t want to come here in spring and look at a jungle.” She tried to look strict, but after playing and laughing like this, not even she could pretend to be mad. “Let’s make some tea as well.”

Natsu flung an arm around Lucy’s shoulder as they went into the house, Happy flying in shortly after. Whenever Natsu and Lucy were ready to confess their feelings for each other, Happy would be there with unwavering support, but for now he didn’t mind waiting around. After all, hanging out with each other brought all the happiness and comfort the three of them needed.

[octuscle]

Hi, i could really use some support. I was supposed to go on a big trip to Turkey for some sun, but I've busted my knee and now I'm bed-ridden in Wales instead. My doctor gave me this device to "help me experience a Turkish holiday" but I've no idea how to set it up.

Your doctor is absolutely right, Chronivac Travel offers great and authentic travel experiences. Here's something I think you'll like. Turkish guest worker on home leave. You can get your boarding pass at the Turkish Airlines counter. And until then, I've booked you the wheelchair service at the airport. After that you won't need it any more.

From the moment you check in, you will become a month younger every minute. And you'll have spent an extra month in Cardiff working on the rubbish collection. Hard work during the day. Hard training at the gym in the evening. And save every penny. After all, you want your family to be proud of you. You live in Cardiff with your cousin. He's the one who got you the job. That's why you speak very little other than Turkish. And in addition, every hour one of your grandparents becomes a real Anatolian.

Your knee problems are history within a minute of picking up your suitcase. And you can even say "goodbye" and "have a nice day" in Turkish. Your backpack is suddenly a hipbag. Almost a real Louis Vuitton. Your cousin has good sources for almost everything. And when you finally get through the one hour security check, you are 35 years old. Your father's father was Turkish. And for the last five years you've spoken almost nothing but Turkish. Your style of dress has already changed completely. Fake leather jacket, ripped jeans, expensive trainers. The latter are fake, of course. Your hair is short, your beard freshly shaved, but your beard growth is getting stronger. You already have a beard shadow again.

You spend most of the time until boarding in the smoking cabin. The flights to the family are okay, but the fact that you can't have a smoke for four hours is torture. At the beginning you read the sports section of the Hurriyet. But after a few minutes you start to discuss football passionately with the other fellas around you.

You are 30 years old when you leave. Your father is a proud Anatole. And so are you. Proud of your manly body and your manly genes, which dominate those of your mother. No one takes you for a Welshman. And when you change planes to Antalya after a total of four hours in Amsterdam, you are no longer one either. A 20-year-old Turk through and through. Macho at its best. But if you can't fuck a chick, you fuck a cousin. If you don't make eye contact, it's not homo.

And when you finally get to your family's summer house and sit on the leather sofa, proudly watching everyone unwrap their presents, you check out your cousins. One or the other is due tonight!

[enam3l]

love, lola / chapter seven / banana and the band (5.6k)

Summer is in full swing. As pregnancy occupies your time, Eddie finds his own groove. But will it lead him to a future without you?

a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie! tw: if pregnancy details and adoption

ok guys if you hadn't been wondering where this story was going, i think this chapter might give you a clue! we are really getting going now.

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

The summer of '86 was so far, looking pretty sweet for Eddie Munson; a striking contrast to the events of the spring. On top of being a high school graduate, Eddie was now gainfully employed at The Hideout. Once graduating, for the first time in his life, he'd found himself swimming in free time. No school to waste his time, his drug dealing hat hung up and unfortunately, Corroded Coffin disbanded. The other guys occupied with summer jobs or preparations for leaving Hawkins behind for college. Adventures which were not on the horizon for the likes of himself.

Then, there were only so many times he could interrupt Steve and Robin at Family Video. Eddie had already been scolded for messing with Steve's precious returns piles and Keith was threatening a Munson-ban. As for the kids, they already had so much of their childhood stolen, Eddie wanted them to have the summer to reclaim some. The lanky presence of a twenty year old former drug dealer didn't aid that - which had became painfully obvious when he'd been mistaken for Dustin's dad by the shop assistant at 7/11. And of course there was you. 

Now, you did have the same endless free time as Eddie, yet he was terrified of imposing. Whereas previously, spending countless hours together wasting away the summer months had been second nature, it was no longer. The feelings Eddie first noticed when he was fourteen were bubbling back up to the surface with vengeance. During adolescence it had been easy to coexist with the love he held because being in your warm presence was all he'd known. The blissful ignorance of youth meant he hadn't quite grappled with the overwhelming nature of love. Then during those peak years of realisation from eighteen onwards, you hadn't been there.

The distance college provided was Eddie's saving grace. Allowing him to compartmentalise his feelings towards you and store them in a locked box in the attic of his mind. Two years later, you've now returned. Bursting through the attic hatch, wielding bolt cutters to break open the industrial chains he'd put on that dusty box to keep it sealed. Unwittingly you've now unleashed a lifetime of all consuming love. The kind that has Eddie no longer knowing how to be normal around you. Bubbles fizz in his stomach in your presence, pressure rising to the point he fears the cork will pop and every soppy thought will flow from his mouth. Like a lovesick teenager he feels his palms sweat as his uncontrollable hand itches to take yours. So if anything, Eddie needs something to occupy not only his time but his mind. Something to prevent the impulses that zap through him. 

So that's where Eddie found that for once, the universe offered him a sprinkle of luck. On a summer evening as he nursed a beer, longingly watching you twirl around with Robin, he was propositioned. From behind the bar, Carl, the owner of The Hideout croaked. 

'So, Munson, now you're a free man, take it you been finding yourself with a lotta time on ya hands?'

Eddie scoffs and nods, he doesn't know the half hour of it. Yesterday he took apart and reassembled Wayne's radio just for something to do - it now only plays stations in what they think is Portuguese. 

'Well, can always do with extra hands round here, man...' Carl shrugs. 

Eddie whips his head round, raising an eyebrow. 

'Carl, let's be serious, we both know I am not twenty one, right?' 

Carl cracks up. 

'No shit, kid. You don't think I can tell a Sharpie job on an ID?'

They both laugh, he'd lost the flawless looking fake ID you'd made for him whilst you'd been away. Resulting in him feebly attempting forgery. He quickly realised that fake IDs and forgery were not something he could add to his portfolio of criminal services a long with dealing. 

'Not gonna get your ass shut down for having someone underage kid working?' Eddie asks. Carl shakes his head. 

'Hell no, you think they send agents to check in at this shit hole? Pretty sure we're on file as going out of business a decade ago. Nah, man, your only problem would be Chief Hopper and he'd let it slide for you, right?'

Eddie mulls it over. It's the best offer he's been given... the only offer he's been given. He could get a few drinks for free, maybe use the stage and equipment to practice, see a few gigs. Do anything other than obsess over you. 

'Yeah, yeah, Hopper would be cool. What would you have me doing? Need some muscle on the door,' Eddie smirks, flexing his lean arms like Popeye. 

'Sure, I'll call you if the stray cats outside get rowdy... I was thinking more like the bar. Means I can stay in the office, means the girls we already got on the bar have someone to look out for em, plus you know all the wiring and shit better than me. Can sort all that out for the bands?'

Carl sees the smile spread across Eddie's face and offers out a hand. 

'We got a deal, Munson?'

Eddie's ringed hand grips Carl's aged tattooed one. 

'Fuck yeah.'  

By August you're four months pregnant and every morning is a nauseating guessing game even without the morning sickness. 

Once the creeping morning light wakes you, a ritual that started at the beginning of summer, starts. Five deep breaths, eyes squeeze shut, then you raise your duvet, open your eyes and see if over night your stomach has miraculously blown up like a balloon. Then you convince yourself that sight deceives you and obsessively probe your stomach to see if it feels rounder than last night. All this plotting and secrecy was pointless if your body betrayed you, the bump appearing and giving it away like a pointing neon sign. But thankfully, the universe had granted you a sliver of luck and the bump was barely bigger than the aftermath of a large dinner. Nothing anyone would notice. Nothing Eddie would notice. 

Still, there were other factors you constantly feared would give up the game. You wondered if anyone noticed your reluctance to enter the pool all summer. Both Gran's and Steve's remained untouched by yourself despite numerous days spent lounging around it with your friends. 

'The baby can't drown when it's inside you,' Steve had snorted. 

You knew that, having approached pregnancy as you would a school test. Meticulously revising in attempt to make pregnancy appear as something to learn about and not something happening to you. Swimming was listed as a pregnancy safe exercise. But you're sure the subjects tested weren't in a pool with a gaggle of sun drunk teenage boys and a lanky best friend who insisted on hurling you around. You don't believe it would be best pleased to find itself wobbling around on Eddie's shoulders as you wrestled Robin on top of Steve. Plus, wearing a swim suit that exposed your stomach, highlighting it to the world, felt like tempting fate. And a shallow lovesick part of you didn't want Eddie to see you in a bikini, skin exposed, unless you looked perfect. 

The other glaring giveaway was you weren't drinking and what was summer without boozy evenings with friends? This all became even trickier now Eddie was behind the bar at The Hideout. No longer could you pretend there was rum hiding in your coke when you were ordering from him. Luckily, Steve was a true friend and stepped up. A true friend who had never drank so much in his life. Making sure to always drink your decoy or order on your behalf. You were glad Eddie had got the job, had something to motivate him and get up for. The downside was now he was the Hideout's resident eye candy. Every night out you were forced to witnessed the girls flocking to the bar and pawing at him. Big lashes batting at him, asking for their fourth drink in the last hour; pouting that they'd spilt their previous glass. Infuriatingly, despite being a goof, Eddie was painstakingly charming; something he failed to realise. His natural charisma oozing as he smirked at the girls needing a replacement, 

'Oh it just fell out of your hand? Well we can't be having that, doll. 'Pose you want the same again?'

You watched the girls fluster, knees buckling and not just from the booze and heels, a reaction you'd had a plenty. It only grew worse once they found out he was talented eye-candy as they caught him on stage doing sound checks or providing back up when a band's guitarist had one too many.  The kicker was the female clientele of the Hideout were exactly what you'd imagined his type to be. Buxom heavy metal cover girls with smouldering eyes and a music taste much more in tune with his. A lethal combination of heartbreak, jealousy and fury bubbled inside, only aided by raging pregnancy hormones and again without alcohol to numb the pain. Your only comfort was Steve's protective reaction where he would slide you a warm hand to squeeze. 

That warm hand was there again when you finally caved and went to get your first scan.  Admittedly, you should've already had one but you had buried yourself in denial. Not wanting to hear that tiny pulsing which would cause you to crash land into reality. But at twenty weeks, you knew you had to, it would be irresponsible not to. The adoption agency you had been in contact with needed to know a due date and ideally a scan for prospective parents. It made you feel a little queasy, the thought of the now banana sized being inside you getting advertised. A little grainy picture used to grab the attention of the highest bidder, like a used goods flier pinned to a bulletin board at the grocery store. What could you do though? That was the process, this is what you had to do.

The appointment came round on the 22nd August, a Friday which was far too sunny when you felt so blue. Not even the air conditioning of Steve's BMW could prevent the sweat that beaded on your forehead; a mixture of anxiety and the abnormally warm summer. The car was silent in anticipation, thick with the looming sense of how real the situation you'd gotten yourself in was about to become. You stare at the backs of your moral supporters' heads. Gran staring wistfully at the blur of orange, blue and green outside. Steve's gaze fixated on the road as his knuckles whitened with his grip on the wheel. The blaring WHAM! tape a stark contrast to the somber mood. 

Steve's hand gripped yours in support as you reclined on the bed in anticipation for the nurse. Gran's firm on your shoulder. The two people who you knew were going to keep you grounded until this blip in your life was over. The nervous energy was interrupted by the chirping of the nurse. 

'Hi, Miss Y/L/N?' you nod, 'good morning! How we feeling today? Excited? Nervous?' 

You could tell she was good at her job, had mastered the art of talking to ease people. 

'How about you, Mom or I guess Grandma now? And Dad to be?' 

Gran winces. Steve's breath hitches. Oh crap, you think, I'm about to foil up this poor woman's routine. One top of that, the message that no one was going to become anything other than what they already were, clearly hadn't been passed on. The three of you look between each other grimacing. Your voice croaks nervously. 

'Oh urm, this is actually my Gran... and he's not the father...'

Steve gives an awkwardly cheerful salute 'Just a good friend.'

The nurse clearly looks as if she's about to say something nice but you have one final blow. 

'And, urm...' you squirm on the squeaking bed, 'I'm not keeping it. The baby - sorry. They're getting adopted.' 

For the first time, her kind smile falters as she flusters on her word. 

'Oh - oh god. I'm so sorry! There's usually a note and - oh, my apologies... well... shall we make sure they're all okay in there?'

You nod, making sure to put on a big smile to ease the nurse so she can get back into her rhythm. Carefully you roll your top up to reveal your belly... or lack there of. 

'I... don't really have a bump? Is that normal? Are they okay?' 

The nurse is quick to reassure, 'Don't worry! Bump size is different for everyone. Nothing to worry about but we'll double check, alright?'

Both Gran and Steve offer another soothing squeeze. Brandishing the gel, you’re given a warning.

‘Okay, hon, now this will be cold. You ready?’

You nod but the response is quickly cut off as the thick gel hits your stomach like ice sludge. An involuntary squeal escapes. Steve let’s out a snigger at your response and is met by glares from every woman in the room.

‘It’s not that bad, surely?’ He attempts to crack. 

The unamused look on your face should’ve warned him not to push it. Quickly, your free hand swipes up a glob of the gel and slathers it on Steve’s exposed forearm. The squeak that escapes him is far more girlish than you ever could’ve produced. You smirk at his frown. How was this the response from a man who has been mauled by inter-dimensional creatures? Gran and the nurse cackle as he untwines his fingers from yours to rub at the frozen patch of skin.

‘Ok… point proven,’ he sulks. 

After reapplying the gel, you all watch with bated breath as the scanner makes contact with your stomach. The smooth surface glides over the skin, searching. No one in the room dares to exhale. Now, your mind races with potential problems. You feel foolish for not being more concerned about the lack of bump. Despite everything, despite the colossal detour this baby has taken your life on, you want it to be there. You want it to be okay. 

The sonogram screen looks nothing but like static to you. Jarring flickers of black and white. Nothing your eyes can recognise as a life form. It's all silent. 

Then finally, a soft pulsing begins to echo out of the tinny speakers. The two hands digging into your skin finally relax a little. 

'There we go,' the nurse beams, 'looks like we have a little burrower on our hands.' 

The image stills and she pauses over the right spot. It's not exactly a breathtaking picture of what grows inside you. The edges are fuzzy, it's abstract. Like an impressionist painting of life. 

'C-could you point it out... I'm not sure where they are on screen,' your voice is laced with embarrassment. As if not being able to instantly recognise the baby made you a bad mother. But I'm not a mother, I'm not going to be you have to remind yourself. 

A blue gloved finger outlines a section on screen. 

'Oh,' you gasp. It's so obvious now she shows you. 'A little banana.' The internal musing manages to pass your lips and three sets of eyes look at you confused. 

'That's what the book said,' you stutter, 'by twenty weeks they'd be the size of a banana...' 

The nurse chuckles along with Gran as Steve remains fascinated by the little wiggling form on screen. 

'Yeah, that's about right,' the nurse adds, 'although I would say this is quite a little banana, but...'

She scans back over again to be sure, 'a very healthy little one!'

Gran leans presses a kiss to the side of your head. 

'I knew it, it's all okay in there. You've done good,' as it did when you were small, her voice still soothes you like nothing else. 

The question you've been dreading finally comes. 

'So, Y/N, would you like to know the baby's gender?' The nurse smiles. Before you can stop yourself and compose a more succinct answer you blurt out,

'No!' 

You're met back with surprised and alarmed blinking eyes. The nurse, Steve and Gran looking between each other to work out what just happened. 

'The adoption agency don't require it. Just as long as they're healthy. That's all, that's fine,' you attempt to reason. Gran tucks a finger under your chin, her sharp eyes analysing your own. 

'Are you sure you don't want to know darling?' She drawls out the 'sure' for emphasis. 

'I'm sure. We're done.' 

In the car home you feel embarrassed by your sharpness over the gender. Again you travel in awkward silence. One of the more exciting parts of pregnancy for most, just an uncomfortable experience for you. The open window causes the printed sonogram picture to flutter between your fingers. The motion causing the black and white haze to dance around like it had on screen. As if your banana size baby was hopping around. You wonder if they will start to bop around inside you, the nurse said they should start to move anytime now. Will they stay a little burrower or would they become a relentless little wriggler? Eddie's baby would definitely be a wriggler. You pinch your thigh for that thought. Thoughts like that now intrude daily, as if your own mind is trying to torture you. It's why you didn't want to know the gender.

The last thing you needed was another sliver of information that could paint a fantasy for you. Your imagination would only take the gender and run with it. It would allow you to truly picture the baby. What they'd look like, who they'd be or all the things they could've been had they been Eddie's. It feels cruel to say and it's why you didn't explain in the hospital room, but you don't want to humanise the baby. The more you pretend this is nothing more than a project or a transaction, the easier this will be. Already your heart hurts too much. 

Over at The Hideout, Eddie squints in concentration, pushing escaping strands of hair out of his face. Sweat drips down his neck, skin exposed due to the ponytail. The stage lights are hot on him as he toys with the wiring for the amps and speaker system.  All day he's spent setting the place up for a big gig. A few repeat guests supporting a once regular band that had gathered a lot of heat. Setting this night up made Eddie, for the first time, feel important and valued. A sensation that sent electric bolts through his body and not in the same way as earlier when an old wire sparked.

For a rundown bar in a dead end town, The Hideout had garnered a cult venue status for metal and rock bands dotted between Hawkins and Indianapolis. The headliners Kraven were familiar to Eddie, having played a few of the same shows as Corroded Coffin. More rock than metal but still good, very good. They had garnered a big hype, getting shows at real venues in the city and those getting rave reviews in magazines and the paper. Eddie had been pretty surprised they'd been down to come back to The Hideout for the end of summer event he'd organised. Carl had been impressed with his ability with the bar, quick to let Eddie become his right hand man. The ultimate approval was now getting granted permission to throw his very own event. 

'Shit, bro. You fuckin set all this shit up already?' Taylor, the lead of Kraven appeared beside Eddie. Tanned skin littered with tattoos and messy waved bleach white hair; the perfect image of a rockstar. 

'Um yeah, pretty much. It was no problem...' Eddie shrugs. 

'Wicked, thanks dude. So, you still playin yourself?' Taylor asks casually as he strolls over to his guitar. Fingers artfully tuning it. 

'No, not really. Band kinda broke up. They're all off to college and shit.' 

Eddie feels a little embarrassed under Taylor's confident gaze. Embarrassed to admit his band had fallen apart to someone whose was thriving. 

'Damn fuckin shame!' Taylor bellows into the microphone. His impressive voice echoing through the empty venue. 'You guys were pretty sick, y'know? Especially you bro. Fucking shredder!'

For a different reason now, Eddie blushes with embarrassment. But this time because someone like Taylor thinks he's talented. Thinks he hadn't just wasted his time with music. 

'Oh, shit, well... thanks! Means a lo-'

'Wanna play with us tonight?' Taylor casually asks like it's nothing. He must notice the bafflement in Eddie's face so he continues. 

'We're a man down. Lead guitarist ain't here. Was gonna just cover myself but... dunno, think it would pretty hardcore if you filled in?' 

Eddie feels his jaw drop; now he's really flattered. The thought is nerve wracking but god, did he miss performing. 

'Fuck... are you sure? I mean I don't even know your stuff?'

Taylor scoffs, 'Fuck yeah. Look you'd be doing us a favour and you're good, you'll pick it up easy over practice.'

The electricity running through Eddie increases tenfold. Who is he to refuse a guy as cool as Taylor? Plus, a desperate part in the back of his mind whispers a fantasy of you swooning seeing him on stage again for the first time in years. 

As the stage lights came on, Eddie desperately resisted the temptation to rub his eyes; now lined in perfectly smudged black kohl. The Kraven look was a little different to Corroded Coffin's, more Studio 54 than biker bar. The rest of the band all exposed glittering skin, tight leather and mesh. After rehearsals, Eddie had gone back to the house to rummage for anything that fit the brief. His chosen look of skin tight shredded black jeans, home cut vest and leather jacket was met with approval. 

'Let me just add the finishing touches,' the drummer's girlfriend had said. 

She sat Eddie down, hovering over his lap as she artfully smudged the liner. Her eyes fixated on his own whilst smearing a layer of glitter over it. The intimacy of his pre-show rehearsal caused his imagination to picture you instead. When he closed his eyes it was you straddling his lap, soft fingertips sweeping on his eyelids and wishing him words of encouragement. Just as he had in the dressing room, Eddie stood on stage wondering what you'd think. Would you like this new look? Would you find it hot? He knows you like Bowie. Then there were other concerns, you hadn't seen him play since you'd left for New York. He's pretty sure he became a much better musician since then. Losing himself in Corroded Coffin in a desperate attempt to fill the void you left. Eddie prays you like this. Prays you enjoy watching him perform. 

The spiralling thoughts are knocked out of Eddie as Taylor strums the first note on his guitar and the performance begins. 

When the stage lights illuminate the figures on stage, you cough up your swig of cranberry juice. There is one guitarist up there who you definitely recognise. You'd arrived with the gang earlier, excited for the evening Eddie had worked hard organising. He'd miraculously left out the part where he would be performing himself. Steve pats your back from your choking whilst the rest of the group gawp. 

'What the fuck?!' Robin shouts, 'is that Eddie?'

You nod feebly, still speechless. This band looked like a real band, Eddie looked like a star. Even from where you all huddled in your usual booth you could see him oozing effortless swagger. 

'Did you know he was playing tonight?' Nancy asks in bafflement. 

'No,' you reply meekly, 'not a clue...'

You hadn't seen Eddie play since you left for college. It appeared in the meantime he'd gotten even better. Argyle was up and rallying you all. 

'Dudes, this is fuckin sweet! Come on we gotta go up there!' 

Everyone was quick to file out the booth, weaving into the crowd to get closer to the stage. As if Eddie's guitar was a siren's call, you found yourself following them until a tug at your sleeve pulls you back. 

Steve frowns, 'what are you doing? Are you sure that's safe?'

'I don't want to miss it! It'll look weird if I'm not there as well,' you're sure your voice whines like a teenager. 

'Yeah but...' Steve's eyes full of worry flicker down to your stomach. 

'It'll be okay, you'll stay with me right?' A dramatic sigh signals you've won the argument. 

'Yes, fine, of course I will.'

Steve firmly grips your hand, shielding you as he pushes through the crowd until he finds the others. 

Only a few rows back from the stage, you now see Eddie fully. 

Framing his dark chocolate eyes are smudges of eyeliner and glitter that reflects the colourful lights. The make up makes his eyes even more intense. The two orbs seem to find you in the crowd and light up. Their magnetism making you feel like you're the only one in the room. His ringed fingers move faster and in more intricate ways than you've ever seen him do before. Fuck, Eddie was always a talented musician but he'd improved tenfold in the last two years. Not just him, however, the whole band look professional. All the members in perfect harmony. The songs not just covers or tunes thrown together in a garage, they're hits. You have no idea how Eddie has ended up a part of them, whoever they are but they're electrifying.  

It's not just you who thinks so. The whole crowd moves like a wave, losing themselves in the music. In the corner of your eye you see Robin, Jonathan and Argyle's hair whipping round wildly. The sheer energy in the room makes the air thick and sticky. You can't help the way your eyes fixate on the beads of sweat trickling down Eddie's thick neck, over his collar bone, past his pecks and disappearing under his vest. This was torturous. As the band stop whilst the lead singer talks, you watch as Eddie removes his leather jacket. Strong but lean arms revealed. 

When the band start back up a gasp sticks in your throat as he begins a solo. Damp curls falling as he concentrates on the notes he plays. Veins flexing under the taught porcelain skin of his arms. Like the rest of the crowd you scream. A family of bats dancing. You're unable to ignore the volume of female voices joining in on the cheering. Your blood boils with envy that others should be looking at your Eddie and thinking thoughts that slip out when you're alone in bed. You can't believe he's real. Yet, he is and painfully, he isn't yours. There's a room full of women here who he could go home with. Who aren't his best friend. Who aren't pregnant. 

When they finally finish and file off the stage, Eddie's heart is still going like a jackhammer. Adrenaline from performing still coursing through his veins. Holy fuck he'd missed this. The other factor causing his pulse to race is raw jealousy. The entire show his eyes burnt at the spot where Steve's arm was wrapped tight around you. Large hand possessively gripping your shoulder, tucking you in beside him. That is not right, Eddie fumes, Steve isn't your protector or comfort, that's his role. 

Congratulatory claps on his back shake Eddie out of his sulk. The guys from Kraven flocking round him. 

'Eddie, bro that was fucking hardcore!'

'You're a lifesaver, dude, honestly!'

'You were on fire out there, my man!'

Eddie's cheeks flush with the praise from people he can't believe like him - think that he is talented. 

'Oh, urm, thank you!' He stutters, 'thanks for letting me play! Look, I'm just gonna to see my friends, caught them in the crowd. I'll see you in a minute?' 

The guys nod. 

'No worries, bro. Just come back to the dressing room when you're done!' Taylor shouts after him as Eddie throws a thumbs up. Quick to run back into the bar and find you. 

It takes Eddie a matter of seconds to spot you in the crowd. He's certain even if this were Madison Square Garden and he was blindfolded, he'd find you. 

'Sweetheart!' He bellows over the chattering crowds and pulsing speakers. 

Instantly your head whips round to see him, stood there in all his sweat covered glory. You're quick to slip out of Steve's arms and run into Eddie's. 

'Ah I'm sweaty I don't wanna get you-' his protests are cut off as you slam into him. Oblivious and uncaring of his damp skin, you wrap your arms around his neck. Instinctively your fingers finding the damp curls at the back of his neck. He indulges and wraps his own tightly round your waist. 

'Teddy, you were so fucking amazing,' you pull back so you can swat at his exposed chest from the sagging vest. 'Why didn't you tell me you were playing!'

Eddie chuckles at your childish frown and pout. His now calloused finger reaches to smooth down the line in your furrowed brow. 

'Wasn't planned, sweets. They were a man down so I guess surprise...'

You let your fingers linger on his chest. Running your tips round over the hot smooth skin, a move that feels too intimate but you can't resist. It takes all of Eddie's strength not to groan at the feeling. He wonders if you feel how hard his heart beats under your touch. Wonders if you realise you're the cause. 

'You were amazing. I mean, you always were but... now. That was something else! How could you keep that from me!'

His cheeks flush at your compliments. They feel so much more meaningful leaving your lips. 

'You really think so?' He mumbles, 'guess I had a lot of time on my hands without you...'

The words pierce your heart. You knew the feeling, days became endless without Eddie. You didn't realise he'd felt the same through those two years. Pulling him back into a hug, you bury your face into the crook of his neck. It smells like sweat, smoke and his aftershave but it's all Eddie. It's home. 

'I'm sorry,' you whisper. Your lips move against his skin and he lets himself pretend it's almost a kiss. He closes his eyes in bliss having you close like this. One arm pulling you tight against him, fingers trailing up your spine. The other wrapped round your shoulder, his tired hands running through your soft locks. Eddie sees how far he can push his luck as he presses his lips and nose to the crown of your head. Inhaling your smell whilst lightly pressing a kiss. 

Back in the dressing room, Eddie is surprised to find the band gathered as if they're holding a meeting. A bizarre contrast to see such animated people wear such serious expressions. 

'Eddie, hey! Come sit,' Taylor waves him over, pointing to a chair.  

He sits down and looks around at the other guys awkwardly. All their eyes on him. It feels like a very strange AA meeting. 

'So... you guys good? Happy with the show?' He asks to try and break the tension. 

Keith the drummer chirps up. 

'Yeah bro, we're good, real good. The show was sick. That's what we wanted to talk about actually...'

Keith nods to Taylor as if to signal for him to go on. 

'Look, Eddie, I'll be real with you. Kraven, we're doing well. It's not been announced yet but... we're signed. We've been working on a debut album for a few months...'

Eddie's eyes widen. It does make sense, he wonders why they hadn't said though. 

'Shit, guys, that's awesome. Well done-'

Taylor cuts Eddie off. 

'That's not all... we may have come with ulterior motives. Our lead guitarist, tonight wasn't just a one off. He quit...'

Eddie's mouth forms a little 'O'. 

'He decided going pro, it wasn't for him. It's cool. So we've been looking for a new lead. Then you called offering the gig and it was like, fuckin' serendipity. We all remembered how hardcore you were with your band.'

The rest of the band nod whilst Eddie's brain feels like it's about to malfunction. 

'W-what are you guys saying?' He stumbles out. 

'Well... we knew you were talented. Then tonight just proved our theory correct. Eddie, bro... we want you to join the band.'

For the first time in his life, Eddie Munson might be speechless. The silence is filled then by Spike their bass player. 

'I know this sounds fuckin batshit brother but we were so good out there, together. You're better than this place, too talented to just be managing a bar in a random ass town. You could be doing the real thing with us, man. We've been out in Cali recording...'

Eddie scans the room, at the pleading faces before him. This feels like a dream. This can't be happening, shit like this is from movies, they don't happen to Eddie the freak Munson. And California? That's like a million miles away. He's barely left the state. It's a million miles away from you. From that New York plan he'd wishfully proposed. But then, what else does he really have? He can't just tag along on your life forever. Taylor coughs, interrupting his freak out. 

'So, what do you say, dude... wanna be Kraven's lead guitar?'

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

[alexanderflowerbird]

DAY 15 AND 16

Sheesh... busy busy busy. Yesterday I didn't get to this because my sister and her partner and my sweet little niece were over and spending time with them was my top priority for the evening. My sister only lives an hour away, but between work and gas prices and her having a new baby, it can be hard to make sure we see each other as often as we'd like to. My niece is SO cute and SO loud and she loves to be bounced and sang to and she loves looking at lights and she kicks ass in her dreams and she smiles, and I am honestly obsessed with her. BESOTTED. She is so cute and sweet and I can't wait to know her better as she grows up.

Seeing my sister is wonderful too, our relationship has been very complicated, painful and off and on for much of our lives, but I'm hopeful we've finally hit a place where we can consistently be good to each other. She's an amazing mother and I have been banned more than once from crying about how proud I am of her lol. I'm the sappy, emotional sibling, and it shows when we're together, but I can tell as much as my sister doesn't wanna be sappy about stuff, she is glad to see me too and loves me back, and that's sufficient.

Today, I'm getting this done early because I don't wanna get too far behind and I have so much to take care of today. Having a single day of actual weekend REALLY sucks, let me tell you. I have to do laundry and errands and cleaning and all my grown up shit on Saturday even though it's my only day off, because I prefer to then go to work and come home and relax on Sunday then to relax all of Saturday and have Sunday be a very stressful jam packed kick off to my next week. Anyway- I'm going to the library at some point to drop off books and pick up new ones, and then I need to go and once and for all empty out my storage unit.

My husband and I are coming up with a game plan to get me to where he is, and at the base of that strategy? Money, honey. So changing my ridiculously high insurance for a more affordable option and getting rid of this extra bill where I keep stuff that is mine but I never look at or think about is a change in the right direction towards saving buku bucks that will take me home to my man. I think today I'll just give you one extra long excerpt instead of two, I hope you don't mind! Have a whole chapter, in fact. New Faith Chapter 8, to be specific. Oh! And my word count at the half way mark is 22,225 so we're doin' great and well on our way to 30k

Taglist: @thelittlestspider @theskeletonprior @badscientist @tragedycoded If you'd like to be part of my taglist, please interact with this post

Mercutio can feel the anger radiating off of Vincente like he’s personally responsible for the hottest day in summer. He isn’t helping cool the blaze with his ‘and what are you going to do about it’ expression, but luckily he was wrong about the idea of Vincente wringing his neck. That’s probably because he was only recently strangled and shaking Mercutio by his neck won’t change the fact that he spilled to a cop of all people. Vincente has already given him the spiel, chastizing him like a child about his rashness and how police are only ever trouble, how Deputy Thompson is a cop and a white man and a nuisance and will likely come back to throw Mercutio in jail until he figures out what “really happened” like cops always do when faced with things their tiny cop brains can’t explain. Vincente is usually only quietly judgemental towards people, he tries to be graceful and act as though he’s got no room to judge other people’s vices, but with cops? All the cheek turning goes out the window. It’s a little gratifying, watching Vincente make a hypocrite of himself while roaring up a sermon of ‘Cops suck’ and ‘What were you thinking’ and ‘This will cause us so much trouble’. They’re already in so much trouble, it hardly makes a difference at this point. This is exactly how he wanted to react when Vincente admitted to talking to Bishop Vigil, so he can only manage to be indignant when Vincente goes off like a flash bang. He keeps almost finishing his ranting and then looks at Mercutio, perched on his couch with a mug of coffee looking very intentionally smug and unmoved and it starts him back up again on a myriad of new points to hold against Mercutio for doing something so stupid. Mercutio would normally be moved by parts of this, riled by others, but he is honestly so tired that all of Vincente’s words roll down his back like the broiling heat of his anger. 

“Even if he believes you, he’s going to latch himself to you and expect you to be his expert guidance on this. We don’t have the answers yet on why this is happening and we can’t afford to have a-... a novice following us around demanding answers. He’s probably never even seen the things we’ve seen, Mercutio, what were you thinking to involve someone from here, a cop from a place like this who’s probably only ever seen a dead cow or dog?” It’s funny that Vincente is now acting like he’s concerned for the sanity of Deputy Thompson, but it is a new angle from what he’s said so far and it does prick a little because it’s occurred to Mercutio too that if their town is suffering a mass possession event like the other towns they’ve read about, Deputy Thompson will see more blood and rot and death and horror than he probably ever thought possible. Even if he believes, he won’t be prepared for what will happen. No one can prepare themselves for such things, it’s unnatural. 

“I have a theory as to why this is happening,” Mercutio redirects, both to drive away from the discussion of Thompson and to avoid admitting any guilt for involving him. His voice is a little hoarse, he’ll probably end up signing again by the evening, but he wants to try talking and if he’s smoking, which he is, he might as well speak too. “They’re trying to become us.” Vincente looks at him with an exasperated confusion, so Mercutio sighs and continues, “Humans. They’re trying to become human. It’s not possible of course and God knows why they’d want to try and be like us, but that’s what it sounds like based on Dorrance’s note. They’re trying to take the bodies and stay.” When he says it like that it sounds like the plot of a cheesy old sci-fi movie, but he’d spent the morning thinking about it before he came over to Vincente’s to confess about spilling to Deputy Thompson. Manifest destiny. They’re trying to become us. The special part of a person the demons in Alaska were searching for. While Mercutio wishes this revelation hadn’t come on the back of Dorrance’s death, it makes sense to him more than anything else. “If that’s what they’re trying to accomplish, it’s impossible. But before all this, we were sure mass possession was impossible, so. We’re in entirely untread territory here. You wanna run that up to Bishop Vigil?” Mercutio smiles when Vincente glares at him for that little dig, but Vincente only sighs at him and turns on his heel to continue pacing across his living room carpet, which by now surprisingly doesn’t have holes run into it with how many times he’s gone back and forth. 

“If you’re right, we have to figure out how to put a stop to it. If we can prevent the mass possessions, we put a stop to the loss of life.” Vincente reasons, rubbing at his chin with a fingertip as though he’s planning a strategy when really, they’re up shit creek without a paddle. Demons trying to inherit the earth? What the fuck are they supposed to do about that? It’s just like Vincente though, to be hopeful and stubborn enough to not realize they’re out of their depth. Mercutio doesn’t have the heart yet to tell him, especially when if he’s right, their town will be the next attempt at this impossible demonic goal and they likely won’t figure out what to do about any of this in time to save anyone. Such a bleak consideration he’ll save for when he absolutely has to say it, when it’s necessary to save Vincente from throwing himself into a losing fight.  

“I went digging for more incidents, searched world wide, but it’s only happening here, right now–” Vincente says, Mercutio interjecting, “No surprise there, America sucks and we came up with the whole Manifest Destiny thing anyway,” but Vincente carries on, “Everywhere sucks, but let me finish. There are other incidents, but I was right about what I’d told you before. All the initial victims. They’re women.” 

Vincente paces back and forth, pauses, continues, “They’re all female, and old enough technically to have children.” He corrects. Mercutio holds up a thumb and makes a sound of approval.

 “Inclusive, well done.” 

“If it’s happening here, then we have to start there, looking for people that fit that demographic that are showing… signs of possession. After Dorrance Crawford… His possession would suggest that our initial victim is already possessed, already drawing people in.” He looks particularly troubled to say this, and Mercutio can understand why when this little suburban nest of simplicity is full of people that are in danger of being the ground zero to this strangeness, and many of them Vincente knows, at least adjacently. Mercutio can’t think of anyone off the top of his head, some of his coworkers perhaps, but if that had been the case, he wouldn’t have seen them at work over the two weeks he’d been putting in overtime to avoid Vincente and his own feelings. They’d have been out sick, or sent home for acting strangely. He’d have felt them, certainly, if they’d been in the store… the same way he’d felt Dorrance. 

“That’s a needle in a haystack sort of situation.” Mercutio says, trying to be gentle and appropriately grim at the same time. Vincente looks at him sidelong for it. He knows. They both know that the hardest part of their work is that often they only can do the work when things are at their worst. He’s about to say something more when he stops his pacing abruptly, looking out one of the windows that faces the street and shows through the blinds a direct view of Mercutio’s neighbor’s house. Ms. Dorothy’s house. He’s looking at Ms. Dorothy’s house, and the pair of police cars that have pulled up in front of it. Mercutio follows his gaze and is immediately concerned for the old woman, getting up and abandoning his coffee mug to head for the door. Vincente grabs ahold of his elbow then to slow him, and instead directs him bodily to the window to watch as a pair of officers emerge from their cars, regarding each other before heading up the steps of her porch to knock at her door. They eclipse her from view, it seems like some sort of wellness check based on their postures, but Mercutio tenses almost instantly as her dark green door swings open. The feeling comes. The nonsensical constellation of burning he’d felt. It radiates even at this distance, because demons do that– they have reach some how, a bigger, more intense presence than people do. Vincente is still holding onto his arm and his concern pierces into the radiating heat of a demonic presence. The skin contact does that, overrides most anything, and Mercutio is reminded in feeling it cut through that he ought to say right now what he’s feeling. 

“Ms.Dorothy’s got it.” He says, because how the fuck else is he supposed to say it. In so many words, she’s got it, whatever it is, dimly, new somehow, more new than Dorrance Crawford, but she’s got it and it’s radiating off of her like a furnace, throwing sparks against Mercutio’s tattoos. Now that he has a chance to feel it without his life in danger, he knows he has to make sense of what he can even if he’s momentarily stricken with fear for Ms.Dorothy. He pulls his arm out of Vincente’s hold and wrenches off his shirt from the nape, touching across his chest, reaching at his back and along his biceps. He has to touch it as a sort of ritual, point to it for himself, to remember where everything is. Vincente watches him intensely, too focused on what he’s said to be squeamish about his suddenly exposed chest. He’s seen this before, after all, seen Mercutio trail over his ink filled skin searching for the exact markings that are ablaze with warning heat. [Do some research here cuz ya know, be religiously respectful you are doing something deeply sacrilegious by writing this in the first place but you might as well get it right if you’re gonna offend a bunch of people lol]

He looks up from examining the votive patchwork of his tattoos to meet Vincente’s gaze and then looks across the street as the officers are turning away to leave Ms.Dorothy alone with this darkness weaning itself into her, oblivious of course, but looking at each other with a veiled, half hearted concern, a repulsion they share but don’t intend to do anything about because they don’t have to do fucking anything, really. Ms. Dorothy watches them from her doorway, and she looks mostly like herself. She looks like she’s herself but she’s ill. There’s an old paper yellowness to her that’s replaced the rosey whiteness of her skin. Mercutio has always thought Ms.Dorothy runs hot, her hands, bony and thin as they are, are always so warm and she’s got a redness to her cheeks and chin and forehead that almost make her look cold-chapped.

Now, that color is replaced with a jaundiced, spoiled cream color that’s only so clearly visible because rather than coming to the door presentable (she’s always quite concerned with being presentable and lovely to look at), she’s in a nightgown of sorts, arms and clavicles and calves exposed, the aging state of her body not hidden away behind frills and knitted sweaters and pearls. Her hair is in disarray, barely kept in a braid of goldish grey that looks like it’s been whipped from her tossing and turning in bed. She normally wears it in a style that would make you think she’s an old Texas bell, high up in the back, teased to perfection, bangs curled and not a hair out of place… Mercutio can’t fathom it, her answering the door like that. She never would, he recognizes instantly- she’d sooner die, than let anyone see her in such a state, and that tells him even more than his tattoos ablaze across his skin that something is terribly wrong. He watches her close up the door, disappearing into the cavernous darkness of her home that is normally full of light, windows open and full up with trinkets. The feeling fades like the ending sting of a sunburn, and he’s only able to tell that it’s different. Still unclear, and not any stronger or more intense than any other demon that’s blazed his flesh, just… different. Disturbingly so. 

Vincente is looking at him with an urgent, hopeful concern, and ventures to put his hand on Mercutio’s bare shoulder. Mercutio has to fight not to flinch away as Vincente’s emotions slap his senses and make themselves as clear as words, the skin to skin contact making everything clearer and more vibrant than feeling people at a distance. He’s worried, but not just in the exorcist sense, not just over the state of things and how Mercutio has discovered that Ms. Dorothy is in terrible danger. The feeling is a fractured vein that leads from Mercutio to Ms.Dorothy. Ms.Dorothy is Mercutio’s strange, sweet friend. Ms.Dorothy is someone who, other than Vincente, gives a shit about Mercutio. She buys him things that remind her of him and has him over so she can steal his cigarettes and say she’s getting around to quitting. She’s important to Mercutio in a way most people aren’t because before they settled, letting anyone be more important than by the purest moral standards was to devastate himself needlessly. They saved people because it was the right thing to do and they cared because someone fucking had to. They should help Ms.Dorothy because it’s the right thing to do, period, full stop. But Vincente’s feelings are also right… This is different, and Vincente has recognized that instantly and with such intensity that his gentle touch has poured it on Mercutio like sheets of rain. 

“We have to get over there to help her.” Mercutio tells Vincente hoarsely rather than commenting on the emotions that Vincente’s touch allows him to feel unbidden, using the excuse of putting his shirt back on to pull away at last. 

“Yes.” Vincente says with all of his holy fortitude packed into the single word. “We should go now.” Mercutio scoffs softly at that and shakes his head. 

“We can’t go now, we’re not ready for whatever the fuck that is. We need to go over what we’ve got and figure out a plan. If anything, we should wait and see if she wanders off to the source. Source meaning, whoever the fuck in our town is Jennifer Tomland.” The suggestion tastes like acid coming out of his mouth– he wants to help her now just as much as Vincente does, but he is grasping at the emotional stillness he used to adopt when faced with a situation where due to the victim’s age or circumstances, or just the very hideous nature of what demonic possession does to a body, they might fail. They really, truly might fail Ms.Dorothy, and that brings out this cruel strategy. Vincente’s expression twinges with something akin to disgust before it smooths out, his feelings a skipping stone across Mercutio’s senses from hot, furious righteousness down and down into practical understanding. Mercutio waits patiently for that to happen. It’s alright, it’s really fucked up that he’d say a thing like that– he allows Vincente to find his way past judging him. 

“If she doesn’t move by nightfall, we’ll go. And we’re bringing the cop.” Mercutio decides. The blaze of anger comes right back like opening an oven. 

“What? Why?” Vincente seethes, exasperated that now of all times Mercutio would bring up the police officer he had so adamantly insisted would make problems for them. 

“We need a witness, someone who has at least some medical training- more hands never hurt. You got anyone in mind? Who's a better idea that you can call? Wanna call up the Dowagers and say ‘Hey, sorry but could you call a babysitter and come help us with an exorcism? Ms. Dorothy’s rotting from the inside out and we could really use some extra eyes on the situation.” Mercutio knows he’s being needlessly cruel about it, but once again, Vincente’s feelings swim through different shades of irritation, each becoming more and more rationally driven. The anger doesn’t go away, it’s just compacted by the understanding that Mercutio has the right idea, or at least the best idea they can have given the circumstances. He’d never bring the Dowagers into this part of their lives… Vincente abhors lying and is often pretty fucking bad at it, but he has lied to them for years to keep them clean and safe and to make sure the Dowagers never, ever know that his past is swarming with horrors they can’t even imagine. Mercutio waits for the dust to settle, for Vincente to agree because even if they want to strangle each other a little, they’re a team and he won’t make moves that they don’t agree to. That’s how they lose each other, and in a circumstance like this, it would be how one or both of them might fucking die. 

“Fine. Let’s get together what we know and then call the officer. I don’t want to waste precious time explaining to him our methodology. He needs to be prepared to help us keep her alive and that’s all.” Vincente says with a stiff, seething conviction. Mercutio nods and then looks back across the way to Ms. Dorothy’s house. Like this from across the street, it seems so ordinary… A sight he’s seen a thousand times. The fact that what’s happening inside of Ms. Dorothy isn’t flashing like a neon light off of her ivy green house, isn’t turning her white window sills yellow or growing insidious vines all over her porch… It's unnerving, and really unfair. If they hadn’t been looking, they’d not have known until it was too late. He tries not to think of that. They saw, there’s still time. 

[nancypullen]

SPRING!

Spring has sprung and I've got an itchy trowel hand. I'm dying to get stated in the gardens. Raise your hand if you think I need at least one raised bed for herbs.

I chose those baseball players because it's also baseball season! Opening day is March 28th. Hit 'em where they ain't boys! Name that movie. Here's a hint.

If I sound chipper today, it's because I am. I HAVE A DAY OFF! Hallelujah! This job has become all-consuming and honestly, not fun. With spring in the air I'm longing for home and time spent playing in the dirt. The flower beds in the front of the house wave me off every morning and greet me every night - and I miss them!

Those gorgeous irises ae from Stoner Creek Elementary where I spent many years working. When a tornado wiped out the school some of my sweet teacher friends dug up and divided irises from the grounds. My dear pal, Dina, gifted me with several and they're thriving. The tulip bulbs were sent by my sister-in-law last December. I put them in the ground and, lo and behold, all 40 bloomed! Isn't it special when you can look at parts of your gardens and feel a rush of love for the people who made it possible? Double the pleasure. Our high today is just 47 and there's a chilly wind blowing, but the sun is bight and skies are blue. No complaints from me. I spent a little time cleaning up winter debris from the flower beds and making plans for what I'll grow this year. Every fall I swear I'm not planting sunflowers again, and every spring I come across seeds that I saved and I'm pulled right back in. Of course I'll plant them. They did really well on the east side of the house last summer, so that's where they'll go again. I surrounded them with zinnias for extra color (is there anything easier to grow than zinnias?) and the grandgirl liked making bouquets with them. I'll do that again. My Zepherine rose bush arrived last week and went into the ground, crossing my fingers that she'll really show off. Of course, this is her first year so I shouldn't expect too much. I shouldn't, but I will. I need to do a lot of things with my time off, but I have a feeling most of it will involve dirt. I'm okay with that. I just want to wear old t-shirts, make things grow, and feed the birds and squirrels. I've become an old swamp witch. There are worse ways to spend my time, right? I've got a roast in the crockpot, I'll roast some broccoli and mash some taters for dinner. We eat a lot of salmon and salads, generally avoiding red meat, but I thought the mister deserved a big hunk of cow meat tonight. He has been absolutely wonderful about keeping things tidy and making dinners. I know, I know women do invisible work for decades and no one ever applauds or thanks them. We're criticized when we don't do it all, but never thanked. Still, I appreciate that he's not leaving everything for me to do, so I will shower him with beef. I know it's been forever since I posted, and I really hate it. HATE it. I ask myself at the end of every nine hour day at the library why I'm doing this. I just wanted to volunteer somewhere and meet some nice people.

I know that most folks don't see what happens behind the scenes in a library, it seems like quiet people just sit at desks and check books in and out. There's constant work to be done, lots of big plastic tubs of books coming and going that have to be processed, inter-library loans,etc. I also spend time at the information desk which is always wild. Some of the questions that people call with would blow your mind. I enjoy working in the children's room, that's always fun. I really love when I can put the right book into a kid's hands and they come back and ask for more like it. Shelving never ends...ever. I'm already working on April's displays , two in the main library and one in the children's room. I just really wish that the days weren't so long. This week is a short week for me and I am delighted. Next week will be long. If they'd just have me come in from 9 to 1 daily, I could knock out all of my work plus others' tasks and still have a life. I work every hour that I'm there, others do not. If I have down time I will float around and pick up the slack in other areas. If everything is caught up, I'll clean. I never thought I'd be that senior citizen that complained about "young people today", but my gosh there's a whole lot of dead weight on staff. Seems like everyone has a special reason why they can't complete a task or show up for work. Ugh. They're all making more than me and getting health insurance, why am I the only one worried about the work getting done? I'm the part-time granny! Okay, I'm not going to end this happy blog post with whining about work. It has been good for me to get out and meet people, I'll stick with the positives. I skipped lunch today because I was working in the yard and now I'm feeling snacky. Since we're having a big dinner I guess I'll just have some cucumbers or a cup of yogurt. That'll keep me from wasting away to normal. Might even sit down and watch some murder tv. I've really been missing my shows! I have to catch up on all of the heinous things people do to one another. I wouldn't be surprised if someone calls the library asking how to dispose of a body, I'll just consider this research. I'm off for a couple of days so I'll blog again tomorrow. Hooray!! I miss the old days of steady blogging. Until then... Stay safe, stay well, HAPPY SPRING! XOXO, Nancy

[drugstoreglitter]

location :   uncle joe’s crab shack, fort lauderdale, florida.

featuring :    FRANKALLIE !!!!! but it’s an au in which they’ve never met

for :    @gallagherisms​

       it’s a red-hot florida summer, tide low, coast sandy, and the temperature’s already pushing ninety. saturday was meant to be her day of rest and relaxation in a rare week off from the yachting season, but so far all she seems to do is pick up the slack left by her brothers. she should be out in the van, tearing down the highway with dolly blaring from her tinny speaker, flowers in her hair and incense hanging from the mirror. she could even be tanning on an aft deck off the adriatic coast right now, a shammy in her hand and the sun on her back, had she booked on for another week of work rather than taking a so-called ‘holiday’. instead, she’s trapped inside uncle joe’s crab shack covering for leo while he plays hooky to nail some chick from arizona, because technically she owes him one, and when a castro makes a promise they take that shit to their grave. but fuck if she doesn’t wish she were someone else right now. take that cute curly-haired chick with the killer smile, for example — probably a holiday maker, sat with a bunch of other fresh faces, laughing at kai who runs the whiskey cove paddle board tours — looks like she’s having the time of her life, a stress-free existence, where all she probably has to worry about is what colour bikini to wear and whether or not she’s gonna let kai get the home run tonight. why do girls like that always end up with douchebags like kai. it’s fucking unfair. still, frankie’s trying to be a force of positivity, live laugh love in the moment and remind herself of everything there is to be grateful for, but it’s hard when it’s hot enough that it feels like sweat drips from the ceiling like stalactites, and her supposed ‘break’ has been pushed back so many times that she’ll likely have to go without. whatever. four’s only like, an hour away. she can manage ‘til then.

      can you check on table fifteen, it’s the big one with the out-of-townies, kelly’s asking her, loading frankie with another two plates before she can leave the kitchen, wince bitten in by her teeth. feels like being a stewardess all over again, but there’s a reason she’d made the switch to deck crew. she’s not good at saving face and sucking back how she really feels when faced with opposition. she can’t just lie back and think of england, never had a mother who stuck around long enough to teach her the secret handshake that held the code to being a girl.  “ can’t you just get bodhi to do it ?  i’m already covering, like, five tables, and those guys look super picky. ”  kai’s always asking for like, the weirdest thing on the menu, and then adding on a load of vegan, gluten-free, soy-free extras, as if he wants you to fuck up his order so he can write you a bad review on tripadvisor. the only thing worse than working when you’re supposed to be on holiday is serving people your age who are actually out having fun.  “ fine, whatever. i can get their drinks orders. but then i gotta take my fifteen minutes. let me just run these lobsters over to table twelve. ”  

      somewhere in the short commute, the instructions get lost in translation, frankie instead standing before the HBO remake of forgetting sarah marshall at table fifteen, all of them fresh from the surf and smelling of saltwater.  “ two surf ‘n’ turfs ? ”  frankie asks, ignored at first, then clears her throat, asks for the second time, cutting through the conversation a little more coarsely.   “ anybody order these surf ‘n’ turfs ? ”   these plates are fucking hot. her eyes are kinda pleading with the curly girl on the end, and it’s only when she feels a tap against her back and a child’s voice that says, uh, i think those are ours...  that frankie realises her mistake.  “ balls. ”  embarrassed, she whips around on her heel with such a voracity that there’s no time to slow her roll, and there’s a body where an empty space is meant to be, an edgar wright smash cut to something wholly unexpected, like that scene where regina gets totalled by a bus. she smacks straight into bodhi, now outfitted in the contents of his two seafood platters, her own spread of steak and lobster flying into the customer behind her’s lap, too startled to even hear the gasps of the hawaii five-o extras or the kid that’s covered in chowder. prawns hanging from her uniform, frankie turns back to the to the customer ; a lobster now sits like a cat in her lap and beef dripping clings to her shirt.  “ holy fuck... i am so sorry. like, you have no idea. ”  kelly’s gonna put her fucking head on a roasted halloumi and vegetable skewer. cautiously, frankie plucks the lobster from her lap. in her head, he grows an animated mouth, tells her cheer up, kid, it might never happen. well it fucking has happened. the most ridiculing moment of her life, thus far.  “ please don’t tell my boss, i’m not even meant to be working today, i’m just covering for my stupid... jesus, why am i saying this ? you don’t care about my idiot brother. ”  foot in mouth disease. sighing, frankie drops down, and begins plucking the fragments of plate from the floor where the sad steak sits in a pool of it’s own trimmings.  “ um, i can like... cover your meal ? ”  she says, her eyes scanning back up to the surfer chick covered in surf ‘n’ turf, the full florida experience.  “ or your drinks, if you’re just drinking. ” though it’ll probably cost her the entire day’s pay check with the shit they’ve been drinking. it’s like margaritaville on crack.  “ look... can you just... tell me how i can make this up to you ?  because if i don’t then i’m not gonna sleep tonight. i’ll just keep seeing your face and bolting upright in bed like that rigged little dummy kid in monsters university, y’know. ”