#it's very cool. this is a light-hearted post y'all.

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

when people in your fandom are having a discussion based around a specific headcanon, and you want to join in but you don't actually believe the headcanon yourself so you're just there like

[witchywithwhiskey]

sweet as honeycrisp

pairing: sugar daddy!ari levinson x sugar baby!female reader

summary: your sugar daddy takes you on an autumn-themed date to the apple orchard, and what starts off as a fun and flirty day unfolds into a meaningful turning point in your relationship.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, biting, brief cockwarming, exhibitionism, light bdsm, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, very light degradation, lots of teasing, pet names (darling, honey), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff

word count: 14.5k

a/n: whew i've been working on this for like two weeks now, and i'm so happy to finally be able to post it!!! i was struggling a bit with the emotional throughline of this fic, and i only decided on it very late in the editing game so if some things don't make sense, just ignore it!!! if you can believe it, i originally just wanted to write about a quickie in the apple orchard and it turned into this 🫣 anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!!

“Kiss.”

The warm, playful voice of your sugar daddy, Ari Levinson, met your ears as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat of his Lexus, greeting you in the way he always did. When you closed the car door behind you, the sounds of the Manhattan street were silenced, leaving you in the relative quiet with Ari.

Eagerly, you twisted on the sumptuous seat of the expensive car to lean over the center console, brushing a teasing kiss to Ari’s scruffy cheek, your lips grazing the edge of his full beard. His skin was warm and inviting, and you lingered for a moment, breathing in the the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne, smelling of vetiver and leather. 

When you pulled back, Ari’s blue eyes were glittering with a hint of mischief that made your heart thump with excitement, a warmth blooming in your core despite the cool air of the car’s air conditioning brushing your legs. It was a warm September day, the last remnants of summer clinging in the air as if it protested giving up its seat to autumn. 

The thought crossed your mind that if any man looked like the embodiment of summer, it was Ari Levinson. His skin was golden with a perpetual tan, and his brown hair had sun-kissed blond highlights that shimmered in the daylight, though they were dimmed a bit in the shadow of his car. 

Still, as he grinned at you, showing off his pearly whites framed by his dark beard, you couldn’t help but feel like the summer sun had taken a liking to you and sat beside you. When he looked at you like that, with that smile and those blue eyes shining like the sun off the ocean waves, you wondered what it would be like to have his attention all the time—to be more than just the sugar baby he took on occasional dates when he wanted to have fun.

Pushing those bothersome romantic notions aside, you raked your eyes down Ari’s form, noticing that he’d dressed down for your date. He wore a soft denim, long-sleeved button-up over a simple white t-shirt and tailored slacks. Casual loafers and sunglasses perched on top of his head completed the look. Even in such a simple outfit, he looked good. 

“Show me.” 

His voice was a deep rumble that pulsed between your thighs, and you flicked your gaze back up to his face, finding heat in his expression, the same mischievousness in his eyes that’d been there since you got in the car. The corner of Ari’s mouth was curved in a smirk, and you felt another throb of warmth in your core.

Your lips curled at the edges, a wicked smile curving your mouth as the energy in the car crackled around you, spurring your heart to beat a little faster. You knew exactly what Ari wanted you to show him, and you knew it was naughty—but that was part of why you liked spending time with your sugar daddy. 

Ari was always urging you to be a little daring, to do something that made your heart race and your breath come a little faster. He didn’t push you, so much as guide you down the path to depravity, and you followed him willingly. You never felt more alive than when you were with Ari.

So while you smiled at him, you spread your legs on the leather seat of his Lexus, the short skirt of your dress falling between your parting thighs. Ari’s smirk deepened with satisfaction as he watched your movements with rapt attention. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your dress, the fabric having ridden up quite high on your thighs. 

But before you could reveal what was beneath your skirt, you looked away from Ari, and it crashed over you that you sat in a car in the middle of a busy Manhattan street surrounded by other people. There were folks driving in their cars just outside your window and others walking by on the sidewalk beside where Ari was parked. There were even people filling up the buildings that overlooked the street. They were everywhere around you.

“Darling, look at me,” Ari murmured, his tone entreating enough to call your attention back to him. 

You noticed his sparkling eyes had lost some of their mischief when you looked back at him. But the steadiness of his gaze had you relaxing when you hadn’t even realized you’d tensed up, and the corners of your mouth flickered in an uncertain smile.

“Do you trust me?” Ari asked simply. His face was open, no hint of pressure in his tone or voice. 

For a brief moment, you considered his question, then you nodded your head. You watched as warmth flooded into his gaze, and it made you feel a little more sure. 

“Lift your skirt for me, darling,” he implored, his eyes dropping to where your thighs were still spread, the flimsy fabric of your dress barely hiding your core. “Show daddy what you have under your pretty little skirt.”

You gathered every ounce of braveness in your body and pulled up the hem of your skirt. There, nestled between your spread thighs, was your bare pussy. The air in the car seemed to heat by a few degrees when you heard Ari suck in a sharp breath.

It had been Ari’s idea for you to go without panties on your date, and you’d agreed, the idea sending excited thrills through your body. Walking through the halls and the lobby of the Manhattan high-rise you called home, you’d felt like you had a secret that only Ari knew, and it gave you a delicious kind of satisfaction showing your sugar daddy how you’d gone without panties, your pussy fully exposed beneath your dress.

“You have such a pretty cunt, darling,” Ari groaned, his hand sliding up your thigh until the tips of his fingers teased the top of your slit. 

You bit back a gasp and squirmed in your seat, trying to hold your hips back from thrusting into his touch. 

“I never get tired of seeing this pussy, and how wet she gets for me.” 

His fingers spread your lower lips and he brushed ever so gently over the tip of your clit, making you twitch in your seat, your legs shaking with the effort it took not to close them on his hand and trap him against your heated core.

“And the way your thighs tremble for me,” Ari rumbled, pulling away from your quickly dampening slit to grope roughly at your plush softness, his grip possessive in a way your sugar daddy rarely was. 

“Ari.” His name was a breathy exhale, an undercurrent of admonishment in your tone as his touches stoked the blazing fire in your core, making you squirm even more on the seat. A sliver of worry wormed into your mind as you remembered the leather you sat on, which would surely stain if he kept touching you, and you gasped, “The seat.”

Ari only chuckled, the sound cavalier in a way that made butterflies take flight in your belly, but before you could chide him again, his hand was slipping back between your thighs. Ari dragged a finger from the bottom of your slit all the way to the top, flicking your clit and wringing a moan from your lips as your thighs trembled on the seat.

Then he was pulling his hand away, leaving you to drop your skirt to cover yourself, and popping his finger into his mouth. Your sugar daddy made a show of savoring the taste of you, and your head fell back against the headrest. You watched him suck your taste from his skin, your breaths heavy in your chest while Ari’s eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“Mm, sweet as apple pie,” he praised, making heat rush to your face while you shook your head and rolled your eyes—even as your chest warmed at the compliment. Ari was grinning shamelessly at you when he grabbed your face gently and pulled you gently across the car toward him. “C’mere, darling, see how sweet you taste,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you.

The musky flavor of your body made you moan into Ari’s mouth, your sugar daddy devouring every little noise you made while he kissed you thoroughly. You sank into him, reveling in the smooth glide of his lips and the possessive exploration of his tongue. Your fingers curled around the collar of his denim shirt and you clung to him, feeling the edge of something more in the way he kissed you. It left you breathless when you finally pulled away.

You fell back into your seat with a soft “oomph,” the breath rushing from your lungs when you looked into Ari’s eyes. His blue gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and there was something in depths of his eyes that you couldn’t quite place—affection or fondness maybe. 

A small, uncertain smile curled your lips, your heart thumping in your chest as you wondered if that’s how Ari looked at someone he truly cared about. Someone special to him, who had a more permanent place in his life than the sugar baby he called when he wanted to have some no-strings-attached fun. 

For the briefest of moments, you could pretend Ari was more than your sugar daddy, and you were more than his sugar baby. 

But then the moment ended, and Ari cleared his throat as he looked away, focusing on the wheel and gear shift of his car to put it in drive. A silent sigh of disappointment gusted from you, and you turned toward the passenger side window, intent on watching the city fly by once Ari eased into traffic.

To your surprise, Ari’s hand slipped into one of yours, his palm pressing against yours while he laced your fingers together. Your breath hitched with uncertainty even as the corners of your mouth flickered in a smile. It took you a moment to get used to the feeling of his hand in yours, turning it over to trace the veins on the back gently while he maneuvered his Lexus through the Manhattan streets.

It had only been a few months since you’d started seeing Ari, and while his touches were often greedy when you were fooling around, he hadn’t been prone to physical displays of affection since the first few dates you went on with him. Back then, he’d reached for your hand a few times, but after a point he’d stopped.

Truthfully, it had been a relief. One of your greatest fears was falling for a sugar daddy who didn’t return your feelings, and considering how handsome Ari was, you’d known it was a serious risk getting into a relationship with him. But he’d been so charming and carefree, you didn’t think it would be a problem to keep your heart out of things. He didn’t seem like he was looking for anything serious anyway.

So you’d focused on having fun, and that had been easy. Ari took you to expensive restaurants with delicious food in New York City, or he’d fly you somewhere else if he was itching to get away for a little bit. During meals, you’d chat about trivial things, then fall into bed together as soon as you were back in whatever hotel room Ari had booked for the night. 

You didn’t quite know why your conversations didn’t go deeper than the shallow things you talked about, but you didn’t question it. It made everything so much easier if you didn’t truly know Ari—if he didn’t know you either. So you just stuck to safe topics, like planning dates and having sex. 

Your relationship with Ari was a nice change of pace for you. He was far from your first sugar daddy, and you’d learned some hard lessons in your past relationships. Too often, sugar daddies wanted to know things you weren’t comfortable sharing, but Ari had never pried. He’d set boundaries and didn’t push them. You were grateful for that.

But another part of you, a part that started off small and was growing with every date you went on with Ari, yearned to know more about your sugar daddy. You wanted to know what he liked to do when he wasn’t working or taking you on dates. You wanted to know if he had any family, if he celebrated the holidays with them. You wanted to know if he’d ever had his heart broken. 

Tamping down on those curious thoughts, you focused on the present—the music that was playing gently in the car, and the scenery passing by your window. The skyscrapers and high-rises of Manhattan had given way to the tightly-packed homes of the suburbs. 

Biting your tongue against all the questions you wanted to ask, not even sure how you’d begin to try to get to know your sugar daddy better—let alone whether it was a good idea—you sat in silence with Ari. The suburbs eventually gave way to the lush forests and hilly countryside of the Hudson Valley, giving you something prettier to look at.

It was too early in September for the leaves to be changing yet, but there were glimpses of golden yellows and warm oranges among the green foliage. A hint of what was to come. Autumn was inevitable and you found comfort in the changing seasons. 

Cozy weather was right around the corner, and you couldn’t wait for it. Hot apple cider and pumpkin pie, butterscotch cookies and mulled wine—you were a glutton for all the food and beverages associated with the autumn months. And you liked to make them yourself from scratch whenever possible. 

It was part of the reason you’d wanted Ari to take you apple picking, though he didn’t know that. He’d just accepted the request and planned the date. 

After a little while more of driving, Ari pulled off the paved road and onto a dirt track. There was a sign for Brothers’ Apple Orchard fixed to a worn, wooden fence, though dense trees hid the farm from view. 

A little ways down the dirt road, the trees opened up into a large parking lot that was already packed with families and groups of friends going apple picking on the warm September afternoon. The sight and sounds of all the people had nerves twisting in your stomach, and you wondered if it had been a smart idea to go without panties to a place that was meant for wholesome fun.

You’d long since learned that Ari had an exhibitionist streak, and that day wasn’t the first time he’d told you to show up to one of your dates without panties. You’d always enjoyed the excitement in the inherent risk of wearing a dress without anything underneath, but he’d never taken you somewhere with so many families before. The consequences of getting caught seemed so much worse than they ever had before.

Ari must’ve felt your fingers tense in his because he gave you a comforting squeeze as he pulled his Lexus into an empty space and put the car in park. Once done, he looked to you, his smile faltering when he took in the way your brows were pinched and the corners of your mouth were turned down in an uncertain frown.

“Do you trust me, darling?” Ari asked, cupping your face and leaning across the car’s console to press his forehead to yours. His thumb stroked gently over your cheek, matching the sweeping of his other thumb against the back of your hand. 

You were quiet for a moment, nibbling on your lower lip as you thought about his question—really thought about it.

It weighed on you a little that you didn’t know Ari very well, especially since a part of you desperately wanted to, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know his character. Ari had never pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do, and he always checked in with you when you were together, making sure you were comfortable and having fun. So while you didn’t know his favorite color, you did trust him. 

Exhaling slowly, you nodded, your forehead shifting against Ari’s. “I trust you, Ari,” you said, your voice little more than a whisper, like you were telling him a secret in the privacy afforded by the enclosed space of his car. 

To your surprise, Ari sighed in relief at your words, the exhale so short and quiet, you wondered if you’d heard correctly. But you didn’t have time to analyze it because Ari was pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then pulling back to open his door and step out into the September sunshine.

You watched as Ari rounded the front of the Lexus, a charming grin on his face as he winked at you over the hood of his car. It was only because you were alone that you allowed yourself a silly little giggle, your mouth spreading across your face in a wide smile. He opened your door and offered you a hand to help you out.

“Careful, darling, wouldn’t want to give anyone a free show,” Ari murmured teasingly while you slid your hand into his, feeling the roughness of his palm against the pads of your fingertips. 

A zing of thrill went straight to your core at his words, joining the sparks you felt when you touched him. The fingers of your other hand played with the hem of your dress as you stepped one foot out of the car. You darted a look around, finding you had some relative privacy between Ari’s Lexus and the next car over, and pretended to rearrange your skirt. 

In reality, you flashed your bare slit for your sugar daddy, biting your lip and ducking your head when you heard his sharp inhale. Ari made a low, tortured sound and squeezed your fingers, practically pulling you out of the car before pinning you against the side.

“Naughty girl,” Ari growled in your ear, pressing his big body against yours so you were trapped between his hard muscles and the warm metal of the Lexus at your back. “You’re going to get us in trouble if you keep flashing that pretty pussy at me, darling.” 

A breathless, disbelieving laugh gusted past your lips before you could stop it, even as your head went a little fuzzy from the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne filling your senses. It felt like the vetiver and leather on his skin was embedded in your mind as a reminder of all the pleasure he’d given you, and with his body pressed against yours, it took you a moment to respond.

“You’re the one who told me not to wear panties to our apple picking date, daddy,” you reminded him, gripping the soft cotton of Ari’s t-shirt beneath his denim shirt, your fingers brushing against the sides of his tapered waist. You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, brushing your body against his firm form enticingly while your lips grazed along his scruffy cheek. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me to show you my achy, needy cunt.”

A low growl rumbled in Ari’s chest and he pressed you harder against the side of his car, his body impossibly warm and hard through the thin fabric of your dress. You could feel every firm line of him against your soft curves, including the thick bulge digging into your stomach. 

Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Ari’s hands skimmed down your sides and dove beneath the hem of your skirt, palming your ass and kneading your soft flesh with firm, possessive fingers.

“Darling, if you keep saying such filthy things, you’re gonna end up in the back of my car with my cock buried in your achy, needy cunt,” he purred, a threat in his tone that he punctuated by nipping at your ear, making you gasp and arch into him, pressing your tits against his solid chest. “You’re gonna get us banned from the orchard because you won’t be able to stop screaming while I pound your pussy—is that what you want?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes. 

In the short time since you’d stepped out of the car, Ari had you feeling wet and aching and empty. Warmth flooded your body that had nothing to do with the sun shining brightly above your heads, and you wanted badly for Ari to free his cock from his slacks and slide it inside you.

But then the shrieking laughter of children punctured the bubble of lust surrounding you, and you remembered exactly where you were. Shaking your head, you dropped your gaze to the edge of Ari’s jaw while you sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the fresh air beyond the scent of your sugar daddy’s cologne. 

Ari’s big body eased back, giving you more room to breathe and you ignored the pang of disappointment at the loss of him. Instead, you let the crisp autumn breeze brushing against your cheeks and dancing between your thighs cool you down. 

After giving you a moment, Ari curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. His brows were lowered and his eyes looked at you questioningly.

“Do you still want to go apple picking?” he asked softly, planting his other hand on the hood of his car, as if he needed to force himself not to touch you so you could answer his question. The thought made you smile, and his eyes dropped to your lips, his thumb brushing quickly over the bottom one. 

“I do,” you said in a light, breathless voice, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. On a whim, you nipped at Ari’s thumb, giving him a smirk when his eyes darkened. “If you think you can keep it in your pants until later, daddy,” you taunted him, pushing your hips forward so his bulge pressed into your belly.

“You’re such fucking trouble,” Ari growled before his mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. One of his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into him while the other cradled your head gently, holding you exactly where he wanted you while he devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping possessively past your lips until you were moaning softly into him.

A loud, clearing throat had you finally breaking apart. Both you and Ari turned your heads toward the sound, finding a blonde woman raising an eyebrow at the two of you before cutting her eyes pointedly to the children beside her. Your cheeks heated and you buried your face in Ari’s neck to muffle a cackling laugh. 

“Apologies, ma’am,” Ari called gruffly, raising a hand in a repentant wave. 

The woman huffed and rolled her eyes, which only made you laugh harder, pressing your face deeper into the warm curve of Ari’s shoulder as you tried to stay quiet. When the woman and her family were finally gone, you leaned back, giving Ari a cheeky grin. 

“Think she’s gonna complain about us and get us banned?” you asked teasingly, sliding your hands up Ari’s chest until they rested on his shoulders, trying not to think about how easy it was to touch your sugar daddy so casually. “Tell them we were acting indecently in the parking lot?”

Ari laughed, chucking you under your chin gently before ducking down for a quick kiss. “If she does, I’ll just buy the farm,” Ari murmured against your mouth. “They can’t ban us if I own them.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at Ari’s pronouncement, surprise making your heart leap in your chest. Your sugar daddy had bought you plenty of expensive gifts since you’d started seeing him, but buying a farm so you could go apple picking in peace was on another level entirely. You had to wonder if Ari was serious, but the look in his eye was genuine when he pulled back. 

“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he rumbled, his heated gaze raking over your face, taking in your wide eyes and parted lips. His thumb stroked over your bottom lip, pulling on it ever so slightly to the side, sending a little thrill through your body. “Or we aren’t making it into the orchard.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing thickly and bobbed your head in a nod. Then, you slid away from Ari, slipping from between his big body and the car and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Even with the warm September sun shining down on your shoulders, you felt a little cold without Ari’s heat and shivered. But you told yourself you were being ridiculous, shaking off the shiver and turning back to your sugar daddy.

Ari was standing with both hands planted on the hood of the car, his head hanging between them while he took deep breaths. He must’ve felt your attention on him because he lifted his head and gave you a charming smile. 

“Just gimme a sec, darling,” he said, shooting you a wink before he straightened and dropped his hands to the bulge in his slacks. 

You tried not to ogle your sugar daddy as he adjusted himself to make his hard length less prominent in his pants, but you knew what was hiding beneath his clothes and you knew how good his cock felt sliding inside you.

A sizzling, delicious warmth cascaded through your body, and you let yourself watch Ari’s big hands adjusting his bulge for a moment before tearing your eyes away and taking deep breaths of the fresh air to clear your head as much as possible.

A moment later, Ari slung his arm around your shoulders and together the two of you walked toward the entrance to the orchard.

It took effort, but you managed not to look down at the front of his pants, sure that if you did, neither of you would make it any further. And you did want to go apple picking. You had so many things you wanted to bake with the apples you were going to pick. 

Keeping your chin up and your gaze forward, you and Ari walked to the small, squat red building that served as the entryway to the orchard. One side was for folks heading into the field of apple trees, and you joined the line while scrutinizing the size of baskets and crates you could get for picking. 

Ari let you choose the size, and you picked a decent size wooden basket, thinking that would give you plenty of apples to use for baking. A farm worker explained that your apples would be weighed when you were done, and you paid per pound. Then they handed Ari a map that specified where each apple variety could be found, and the two of you were set free into the orchard. 

“What kind of apples are we picking today?” Ari asked, peering at the paper in his hand while he snagged the basket from you. 

You leaned into his side so you could read the map, and pointed when you found what you wanted. “Honeycrisp, honeycrisp!” you chanted, letting your excitement overtake you. 

Ari chuckled, folding the map and tucking it into his pocket before giving you one of his charming grins. “Honeycrisp it is, honeycrisp,” he teased, smoothing his hand down your arm to lace his fingers with yours before he began walking into the orchard.

A shiver of delight raced down your spine at Ari’s gentle, familiar touch and the sweet new nickname. He’d only ever called you ‘darling’ before, and while you liked the pet name, ‘honeycrisp’ made you feel closer to your sugar daddy because it was meant for only you. It was something people in a real romantic relationship did, wasn’t it?

Your feet stumbled a little before you fell into step beside Ari. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked up at him consideringly, wondering—not for the first time—what he thought of you. If he thought you were someone worth caring about—if he thought of you at all when you weren’t together. 

Your sugar daddy flashed an easy smile at you, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture, even as you thought about how difficult he was to read. He was always charming and easygoing, and it made it hard to figure out what he was really thinking, let alone what he was really feeling.

You did your best to push those pondering thoughts from your mind and simply enjoy the walk through the orchard with Ari. You reminded yourself that he’d made it clear he just wanted to have fun with you, so that’s what you were determined to do: Enjoy the warm day and pick some apples with your handsome sugar daddy.

The honeycrisp section of the orchard ended up being quite busy, with families and groups of friends forming small crowds around all the trees closest to the entrance of the field. You paused for a moment, your face falling in a small frown.

Ari must’ve seen your expression because he tugged on your hand and led you past the crowds, strolling down a long row of apple trees to go deeper into the orchard. The excited chatter of other people faded until you could barely hear them and the farm grew peaceful. Finally, you came to the edge of the orchard, and Ari pulled you to a stop at the end of a row of honeycrisp trees. 

“Wow, that’s a lot of apples,” you said, peering up at the trees around you. They were bigger and taller than the ones you’d passed that were being picked over by the crowds. Their branches were practically bursting with ripe, red apples, the color swirling with yellow and green as it often did with that particular variety. 

It seemed no one else had thought to escape the crowds and venture deeper into the orchard, because you couldn’t hear anyone else around. It was just you, your sugar daddy and the apple trees. 

It was so perfect you couldn’t stifle the beaming grin that spread across your face.

“Should I go back for another basket—or a crate?” Ari asked, a grin in his tone. 

When you finally tore your eyes away from the trees and their bounty, you found him staring at you, something like fondness in his gaze. It struck you that Ari had no idea why you wanted apples—you’d never told him you liked to bake or what you planned to do with the ones you picked—but he’d planned the date and was offering to help you pick as many apples as you wanted. 

A warmth started in your chest, feeling as though it were wrapping around your heart and filling you up with a dizzying amount of sunshine, until your ribs were nearly bursting with it. Your cheeks felt warm, and your face ached a little from how wide you were smiling. 

When you realized that you were staring back at Ari with just as much, if not more, affection than was in his gaze, you tried to tamp it down, forcing yourself to scoff lightly at his question. 

“I think one will be plenty,” you said dryly, turning back to the trees and trying to calculate how many apples would fit into the basket Ari carried. Would it be enough for the apple crisp cheesecake recipe you’d been dying to try? You decided it would have to be. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, honeycrisp?” Ari asked softly, curling a finger beneath your chin and tipping your face to look up at him. He eased your bodies toward each other and your arms wrapped naturally around his waist. 

It wasn’t until you’d pressed your hands to Ari’s back, your hands settling against the solid muscle of him, that you even realized what you were doing. When you did, you froze, feeling a little spooked by how easy it was becoming to sink into Ari’s casual touches and return them. It felt like there was a growing intimacy between the two of you, and you didn’t know quite yet how you felt about it. 

“Honeycrisp?” you asked, latching on to the one thing you could think to say that would delay you needing to answer Ari’s question. 

He’d never asked you what you were thinking before. When he checked in with you, his questions were always more direct, and more specific about what you were doing. You didn’t know if he really wanted to know, so you hoped a distraction might work.

Ari’s grin turned a little mischievous, like he knew what you were doing, and he wrapped his arms around you, hauling you up against his large, firm body. He ducked his head and nudged your nose with his, tickling your cheek with his beard until you laughed softly into his scruff.

“It fits, doesn’t it?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that sent warmth dancing through your body. “You’re sweet as honey and as delicious as an apple crisp.” He kissed your lower lip, sucking on its plumpness with a slow, deliberate drag that had you nearly moaning into his mouth.

“Yeah, I like it,” you murmured when he released your lip, your voice obscenely breathy as your eyes fluttered open. You couldn’t remember closing them. Being so close to Ari, having his arms around you and his lips on you, was rattling your brain a little.

“Now, darling honeycrisp, tell daddy what had you thinking so hard about those apples,” Ari rumbled, his voice sweetly coaxing as he brushed butterfly kisses along your jaw. His lips were soft and his beard was coarse, and the contrast of the sensations had you sighing softly and melting further into his arms. “Unless you don’t want to tell me?”

There was a thread of uncertainty in Ari’s tone as he voiced the question, like he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too hard by asking you to tell him what you’d been thinking about. 

It was so different to how other sugar daddies—other men in general—had treated you. They’d always demanded you tell them whatever they wanted to know, as if they had a right to every part of you. 

But Ari wasn’t like that. He’d never been like that, and it didn’t surprise you that the first time he asked something even remotely personal, he was still giving you the opportunity to sidestep the question if you didn’t want to answer. It made you want to tell him all the more.

“I was thinking about what I want to bake with the apples we pick,” you answered, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. “And trying to make sure one basket would be enough.”

Ari brushed a kiss to the apple of your cheek, as if thanking you for telling him. Pulling back a bit so he could look at you, he tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

“You like to bake?”

You felt a little shy in the moment, ducking your head under the weight of his sparkling blue eyes, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said shrugging as if it was no big deal. Then, when Ari didn’t reply right away, you went on, filling the silence by answering a question he hadn’t asked. “I don’t usually tell sugar daddies—the one time I did, he got weird.”

Biting your lip to stem the flow of words from your mouth, you winced. You weren’t sure if Ari had known you’d had other sugar daddies before him, but it felt awkward to acknowledge the fact even if you weren’t ashamed of it. Besides, something inside you rebelled against the idea of lumping Ari in with all your other sugar daddies—he truly wasn’t like anyone else you’d been with. 

“Weird how?” Ari asked in a tone gentler than any you’d heard him use before. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, but he didn’t try to make you look at him, just stroked your skin with his thumb. The gesture was so profoundly comforting that you lay your head on his shoulder and gave a sigh of relief. 

“Once he knew I liked to bake, he expected me to bake for him,” you explained slowly, choosing your words carefully. “But not just bake—he bought me an apron and skimpy little dresses to wear underneath it with these ridiculous heels. He wanted me to bake for him and…service him.” 

You pressed your face into Ari’s shoulder, remembering the experience and cringing over what you’d let that man talk you into. He was a major reason you appreciated Ari’s boundaries so much. You felt safer, like things couldn’t spiral out of your control, with the boundaries your sugar daddy had set in place.

After you’d answered his question, Ari stayed quiet, just holding you, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your neck. His big arms felt so steady around you that you couldn’t help but take comfort in them, and you went on, feeling safe enough to tell Ari the rest.

“He took all the joy out of baking,” you said in a small voice. “I stopped seeing him soon after, but he wasn’t happy about it.”

Ari exhaled a sharp breath and he squeezed you in his arms, holding you tight for a long moment before he eased up a little. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “I would love to try your baking, but only if you want—hell, you can come over today and use my kitchen and bake in one of my shirts if you want.”

A relieved laugh gusted out of you, and you were so glad Ari understood that it took you a moment to realize he’d invited you to his apartment. 

You’d never seen where he lived—and even though he paid for it, he’d never been inside your apartment either. Ari had always gotten hotel rooms, even for dates in in the city. 

You hadn’t thought much about it beyond appreciating the fact that Ari didn’t act entitled to be in your space because he paid for it. But now he was inviting you to his apartment, his space, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

Pulling back, you gave him a curious look. 

“Are you sure?”

Ari leveled you with a look of his own, and though his gaze was serious, there was a hint of amusement in the curve of his mouth. “Are you sure?” he countered, his voice going low and rumbly as he went on. “If you start baking in my kitchen wearing only my shirt, there’s a very good chance I’ll eat more of you than whatever you make.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to drive home the lewd insinuation of his statement. 

But despite his dirty warning—or perhaps because of it—you only warmed to the idea of baking in Ari’s apartment. It sounded fun in a way it hadn’t been with your past sugar daddy and you bounced on the balls of your feet as excitement flooded through you. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, shifting your arms to wind around Ari’s neck. You used your hold on him to keep your balance as you pushed up onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I already know what I want to make.”

Ari chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before pulling out his phone and telling you to pull up the recipe so that he could forward it to his assistant to make sure his apartment had everything you’d need. You did as he asked and handed his phone back to him, watching for his reaction to the recipe you’d chosen.

To your delight, Ari groaned like he was being tortured, his thumb flicking over the screen as he scrolled through the recipe to look at all the pictures.

“You’re gonna make this?” he asked, before reading out the title, “An Apple crisp cheesecake?” He made another agonized sound before looking to you for confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, knowing he was excited despite the miserable noises he was making, and nodded eagerly to answer his question.

Ari shook his head with a disbelieving look on his face and tapped out a message on his phone before pocketing it again. Then he grabbed you around the waist and hauled you against him again.

“You’re trouble for my pants, honeycrisp,” he muttered, dropping a too-brief kiss to your lips. “First you make me hard enough I feel like I’m gonna pop my zipper.” He trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck in between his words, his mouth and beard tickling your skin while you melted into his arms. “Next you’re gonna fill me up with apple crisp cheesecake until my button breaks.” 

You made a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan as you tipped your head to the side, giving him more access to nip and lick at your neck while you clung to his shoulders, your knees going weak from your sugar daddy’s attention. 

“You don’t need to eat that much cheesecake, Ari,” you wheezed in between bouts of laughter, giggling harder when he nipped playfully at your ear.

“If it’s as delicious as you, I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop myself,” he flirted, kissing the spot just beneath your ear that had you shivering in his arms. 

“Ari,” you said his name on a breathy exhale, and it was a good thing his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, because you didn’t have any hope of responding to his compliment. Instead, you showed him how much you appreciated it by kissing him back hard, your fingers tangling in his soft brown hair as you clung to your sugar daddy and made out in the apple orchard.

By the time Ari pulled away to let you get some air, you were breathless and happier than you’d been in a long time. To your own surprise, you felt good about opening up to Ari and telling him about your past bad experience. He’d made you feel heard and cared for, all while giving you reason to believe he’d never do anything like that to you. He made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t with any of your other sugar daddies. 

Because of all that, you were actually excited to finally see his apartment. It felt like an important step, the beginning of something new, perhaps something deeper, and though there was an undercurrent of anxiety in your belly, you were more excited than anything else. 

And if you weren’t mistaken, Ari looked excited, too. His eyes were looking at you with affection in their depths, and his mouth was curved into a genuine smile. 

As he grinned down at you, Ari let his hands slide down from your lower back to your ass, groping you through your dress before swatting the soft cheeks lightly. 

“Alright, honeycrisp, these apples won’t pick themselves,” he teased good-naturedly. “And I’ve got a craving for some apple crisp cheesecake now.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, making you laugh.

But you forced a serious expression onto your face and gave him a mocking salute. “Yes, sir,” you said in a deeper voice, trying to tamp down on the smile that wanted to break free.

You lost the battle when Ari gave a loud laugh, his head tipping back and the sun shining down on his golden face while he gave into your silliness. He recovered quickly, though, looking back down at you fondly as he rumbled, “That’s ‘yes, daddy’, to you, honeycrisp.” Then he slapped your ass a little harder to urge you to get a move on before he finally, reluctantly, pulled away and turned in the direction of the apple trees.

To ease some of the disappointment you both felt, Ari gave you a salacious wink that had your cheeks warming again. You couldn’t even blame the September sun on the heat in your face. Your sugar daddy was just so hot, it was hardly even fair.

To distract yourself from wanting to curl up in Ari’s arms and say to hell with apple picking, you snatched up the basket he’d dropped, arching your back and popping your ass to give him a peek at your pussy, then straightened and skipped to the nearest apple tree to start picking. 

When you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you saw Ari’s eyes were heated and staring at the way your skirt fluttered around your ass, his big hand palming his bulge in his pants. You wiggled your ass for him, turning back around to hide your laughter when his long-suffering groan met your ears. 

But you couldn’t keep your eyes off Ari and you turned your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, catching him swiping a hand down over his face while he shook his head. Something about the gesture sent your heart pitter-pattering in your chest—which only got worse when Ari caught you looking and winked while he adjusted himself in his pants.

You felt giddy as you refocused on the tree in front of you, your breaths coming in soft little gasps as excitement and desire swirled in your core. It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts and remind yourself that you could not jump your sugar daddy in the middle of an apple orchard that was open to the public—no matter how much you desperately wanted to. 

With slightly shaking fingers, you began to pick apples, doing your best to pay attention to what you were doing and make sure you were selecting the best fruit you could find. If Ari was going to try your baking for the first time, you wanted your apple crisp cheesecake to be the best that it could possibly be. 

Ari came to stand beside you, and though you wanted him to put his hands on you, you were happy to see him dedicate himself to the task of picking apples, even reaching up to the branches that were too high for you. In turn, you showed Ari how to check for bruises and other unwanted things in the fruit before adding them to the basket at your feet.

Between the two of you picking apples, it wasn’t long before the basket was nearly overflowing, but you were having so much fun, you didn’t want it to end. So when Ari asked if you still needed more, you gave him a shy smile and said just a few. You didn’t want him to go get another basket—because, really, you didn’t need that many apples—but you didn’t want the apple picking part of your date to end just yet.

Your sugar daddy seemed to understand your desire to linger because he didn’t call you out on the fact that your basket could barely hold any more apples. Instead, he flashed you an indulgent grin and nodded, joining you under the apple tree where you’d been picking. 

But rather than moving beside you, as he’d stood while you’d worked together, he came up behind you so that his chest was brushing against your back. His hands settled lightly on your waist, loosely caging you in beneath the apple tree with your body facing the trunk. 

He ducked down so his scruffy, bearded cheek was pressed to yours and pointed to a cluster of apples just out of your reach. “Why don’t you grab one of those?” he suggested, the practiced innocence in his tone nearly making you snort with laughter. 

You knew Ari was playing a game, you could feel it in the mischievous tension crackling in the air, and you were almost certain it would lead to some sort of naughtiness in the orchard. But your body was wound tight, and you wanted to get up to a little mischief with your sugar daddy, so you decided to play along. 

“I can’t reach, daddy,” you simpered, proving your point by reaching your hand up to show that the apples were too high up, your fingertips only barely grazing the fruit. You used the movement to deliberately push your ass back into Ari’s lap and you had to smother a giggle when you felt the hard ridge of him in his pants.

“Let me help, honeycrisp,” Ari rumbled, and though you couldn’t see his grin, you knew it was there by the warmth in his voice. You bit your lip against your own wide smile.

Ari’s hand slid down your side, all the way to the back of your thigh, before he gently grabbed your leg behind your knee to lift it until your foot was planted on a low branch. Then he guided your hips deeper into his lap, where you could feel the long, stiff length of his cock wedging between your ass cheeks through your thin dress.

“C’mon, honeycrisp, reach a little bit more,” he urged, tilting your hips and bending his knees so that his hard bulge was pressed against your bare slit. Then he surged forward, lifting you just a little off the ground while he dragged the thick length of his cock against your weeping pussy. 

You fell helplessly against the trunk of the tree, the apples forgotten as a low moan slipped past your lips. Ari teased you with his clothed cock, and your spine arched to bare more of yourself to his hard bulge. Craning your neck to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder, you gave him a desperate, pleading look. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a whine, pushing back into his lap and wiggling your ass side to side to try to entice him into giving you something more. You’d been teasing each other all day, and you were hitting a breaking point. You needed him to give you something.

Ari chuckled, burying his face in the side of your neck, his deep laughter rolling deliciously down your spine and settling between your thighs, until you were pulsing with desire. He curled around your body until he was surrounding you, your smaller form fitting perfectly within the cage of his arms. 

He reached above you and easily plucked the apple he’d directed you to pick from the spot you hadn’t been able to reach and presented it to you. At the same time, his other hand began to wander, groping your soft tits until you moaned prettily again for him. 

“Does it pass your inspection, darling?” he asked, urging you to focus on the apple he held in front of you. 

Truthfully, you didn’t care anymore about picking apples—you had plenty of them in the basket at your feet—but you did your best to look it over. You turned it over in your trembling fingers, checking for bruises and bugs. Finding it to be perfect, you nodded. 

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Ari murmured, taking the apple from your hands and pulling away to set it on top of the pile in your basket. 

You had to bite back a whine at the loss of him, but he was back against you a moment later, his warmth surrounding you as his arms curled around your body. His hands slid up your sides and cupped your tits, kneading them in his big, strong hands until your head fell back against his shoulder and you let out a soft whimper of need.

“Now is that enough apples, honeycrisp?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Yuh huh,” you mumbled, nodding weakly as you arched your spine and pushed your chest into Ari’s hands. He rewarded you by pinching and plucking your nipples through the soft cotton of your dress, wringing a weak whine from your lips. “Plenty.” 

“Good,” Ari rumbled, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his mouth licking and nipping at your skin like you tasted as sweet as the fruit you’d been picking, his rough beard making you shiver in his hold. “Because if I had to see your pretty pussy winking at me from beneath your skirt one more time while you were bending over or reaching for some apples, it was going to drive me fucking wild.”

A low moan slipped free from your lips while one of Ari’s hands skimmed down your front, sliding under the hem  of your dress and cupping you between your thighs. His big hand covered your entire mound, which was sticky with your juices. 

He growled when he felt just how wet you were, the sound reverberating down your spine and making your pussy spasm, more wetness dripping from your slit and into his palm.

“Fuck,” Ari ground out through gritted teeth, his voice rough with his own barely leashed desire. “You’re soaking wet for me, honeycrisp—I gotta feel you,” he said, an urgency in his voice as he sank two fingers into your drenched hole, pulling another moan from you. His hips were grinding his bulge against your ass so hard, you could feel him throbbing. “Gotta feel this tight warm cunt on my cock, ‘m not gonna make it back to the car—need you now.”

“Ari,” you whispered harshly, trying to sound angry, but the two syllables of his name came out dipped in desire and you felt your sugar daddy shudder against your back, his fingers working harder inside your sopping cunt, his palm making soft slapping sounds every time he bottomed out. “We shouldn’t.” 

Despite your weak protest, you rolled your head to the side on Ari’s shoulder, peering through the branches of the tree toward where you’d left the crowds of other apple pickers. They were still so distant you couldn’t hear them over your soft, gasping breaths, but there was no telling when someone might stray from the others. They could stumble upon you at any moment. 

The only protection you had from wandering eyes were the branches of the apple tree. Thankfully, they were close enough and the leaves dense enough that you couldn’t see much beyond Ari’s big body, but if someone came close enough, they’d no doubt hear you or Ari, and then you’d be caught.

“We’re going to get arrested,” you scolded in a hushed tone before turning your head to bury your face in Ari’s beard and stifle the moan on the tip of your tongue. He hadn’t stopped fucking you with his fingers and your reluctance was ebbing from your body just as surely as your desire was leaking into his hand. 

Instead of responding to your statement with the seriousness you felt it deserved, Ari simply chuckled against your cheek and used his thumb to circle your clit, making your hips jerk into his hand, your body wordlessly begging him for more while you muffled a whine into the underside of his jaw. 

“We’ll be fine, honeycrisp,” Ari soothed in a placating tone that made you growl like a feral kitten into his throat, so he switched tactics, his voice going low and rough. “Don’t you wanna feel me, honey?” He asked, grinding his hard length into your soft ass until you mewled pathetically. “Don’t you wanna drip your sweet juices all over daddy’s cock like a good girl?” 

It was on the tip of your tongue to give in. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew there was a very real possibility that you could get caught, and it was only your fear of the potential consequences that held your words at bay. But Ari was well acquainted with the fear that held you back, and he knew exactly how to help you break through it. 

“Just the tip,” he murmured, his voice so warm you could hear the smile in it. “Just take the tip, and stay quiet, and we’ll be golden.” He nuzzled your face, his beard rasping over your soft skin and sending tingles of delight all through your body. 

You knew it was a ploy. You knew that Ari knew that you’d never be able to settle for just the tip of his cock—after all, you never had before. But it was easier to pretend you could settle for just the tip than to say yes to Ari fucking you in the middle of the apple orchard when there were people not too far away. It was the small step you needed to break free from your fear.

Lifting your head, you looked around. There was nothing to see except dense branches and leaves and endless apples. Ari’s body hid you entirely from sight, and you still couldn’t hear anyone else close by, so if you stayed quiet, you really could get away with a quickie in the orchard. 

A wicked smile spread across your face and you turned your head to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder.

“Just the tip?” you asked, you voice laced with suggestion. You knew Ari was going to end up sinking much more of his cock into you, but you wanted to play along for a little bit. “Promise, daddy?” Your question was meant to sound innocent, but you couldn’t help the way the corners of your lips wavered in an eager grin.

Ari chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, because he knew exactly what you were doing. “I promise, darling…” he said, trailing off as he pulled his fingers from your pussy with an embarrassingly wet sound that made him grin. “Unless, of course, you beg me like a good girl.” 

“Hurry, daddy,” you cooed, wiggling your ass against Ari’s bulge, a teasing smile on your lips as you watched him over your shoulder. 

Ari’s eyes darkened and then he was using his clean hand to fumble with his belt and fly while he swatted your pussy playfully with his drenched fingers. You gasped and twitched, trying to stay quiet and failing miserably as desperate keening sound slipped from your mouth.

At your urging, Ari wasted no time, shoving his pants open and pulling out his cock, pushing your dress up over your ass and rubbing the tip through your drenched folds. Both of you groaned, Ari’s face falling forward against your shoulder while you grabbed onto the trunk of the tree in front of you, trying to stay upright while your knees trembled. 

Then Ari was pushing inside, the head of his cock sinking into the warmth of your pussy. The stretch of him was too delicious, and you moaned louder than was wise, but you couldn’t help yourself. He felt too good. 

“What’d I say about staying quiet?” Ari rumbled in your ear, right before he shoved his fingers in your mouth. The tart taste of your wetness mixed with apples burst on your tongue and you moaned again, licking wildly at his fingers to get as much of it as you could. “Mm, that’s it, clean up your mess, honeycrisp—show daddy what a good girl you can be.”

Ari’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady while he fucked you with just the tip of his cock, pushing into your tight hole and pulling free until the tease of it drove you wild. 

“Mm-oah, mm-oah,” you begged around Ari’s fingers, trying to push back on Ari’s stiff length and take more of him, but he held you still, forcing you to take only what he gave you. You bounced impatiently, the foot that was still lifted on one of the branches shaking it so furiously, the leaves rattled and a few apples dropped to the ground.

“Oh, did you want something, honey?” Ari asked, his tone filled with mocking innocence as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. You shot him a half-hearted glare over your shoulder, pouting. 

“I need more, daddy, please,” you begged, giving him your best desperate, pleading look while you pushed back against his hold, reveling in the way he didn’t let you move to take him further. “Please split me open with your thick cock, daddy—I need it.”

Ari blew out a sharp breath. “Fuck, I wanna tease you some more, but I can’t—need you too bad, honey,” Ari rasped, squeezing your hip while his other arm wrapped loosely around the front of your throat, so the bulge of his bicep was just beneath your chin. 

“Remember, stay quiet.” His hushed words were your only warning before Ari slammed into you, shoving every inch of his hard cock into your wet, needy cunt. 

A scream welled up inside your chest, your mouth dropping open as it clawed its way up your throat, but at the last second before it was set free, you managed to bury your face in Ari’s bicep. Your teeth sank into his warm, golden skin and you bit your sugar daddy while you screamed into his arm. 

His tortured groan was loud, but only because it poured directly into your ear, the sound dripping in pleasure as your inner walls squeezed his hard cock and made room for the thick length of him in the depths of your body.

Bliss consumed you, the stinging edge of Ari pushing inside you so fast and stretching you so suddenly making your body burn all the hotter. Already, your cunt was pulsing around Ari’s cock like you wanted him to stay buried inside you for a long time and you sighed happily, pulling your teeth from your sugar daddy’s arm. 

While Ari gave you a moment to adjust, his hand kneading the plush softness of your hip, you kissed and licked at the indents your teeth had left in his skin. He chuckled, brushing a kiss against your temple, an acceptance of your wordless apology. 

“Ready, honey?” Ari asked softly, nuzzling your cheek while he rolled his hips, grinding his cock into you in a way that had you moaning again. “This is gonna be hard and fast. I can’t—I gotta pound your pretty pussy,” he rumbled, his tone almost apologetic with the urgency in it. “Gotta feel you dripping around me, squeezing me, milking me.”

His hand shifted from your hip to slip between your thighs, his fingers finding your slippery clit and rubbing the puffy pearl. He grunted when you clenched around him, his fingers stroking you harder and winding your pleasure higher while he rolled his hips, fucking you in short, sharp thrusts.

“Fuck, honey, fuck,” he bit out, his breaths heavy in between every word. “Tell me you’re ready for me to move.”

“Please, yes, move,” you cried propping your chin on Ari’s bicep while your nails dug into the trunk of the tree in front of you. You used your grip to brace yourself and push back on Ari’s cock, taking him deeper with every thrust. “Need you, daddy, please, please, please,” you babbled, your voice coming out strained with the effort to keep it quiet.

“Fucking right you need me—just like I need you,” Ari growled, pulling his hips back and slamming forward, driving into you with so much force, you could hear the soft sound of your ass slapping against his thighs. “You have the sweetest, tightest pussy I’ve ever had—best fucking pussy in the world. I dream about it when I’m not with you,” he confessed, his words rough like he’d pulled them from the depths of his soul. “Dream about pumping you full of my come until your belly’s bulging with me, honey.”

Your mind reeled at Ari’s confession even as your body sank deeper into his hold. You were still trying to catch up on processing his words but your pussy was clenching around his cock greedily, as if begging for him to come inside you already. 

In that moment, a singular truth crystalized in your mind: You’d been deluding yourself into thinking you didn’t care for Ari—that he didn’t care for you. It was very clear that Ari did care about you, and you cared about him.

All those boundaries in your relationship, you realized you’d been the one creating them, not Ari. Ari had been patient, chipping away at the walls you’d built around yourself until he’d somehow found his way in. He’d dreamed about you, and you’d thought he was just another sugar daddy looking to have some fun. You’d been so wrong about him.

At the weight of your realization, you nearly collapsed against the tree, but managed to hold yourself up, sobbing with pleasure and emotion. Ari seemed to sense the shift in your mood and he slowed his movements, as if he was going to stop, but you shook your head, feeling feral with your need for him. 

“Please, daddy,” you cried softly, your voice hoarse with the flood of affection filling your heart. It was emphasized by the feeling of Ari inside you, surrounding you, your body cradled in his arms while he fuckd you like he wanted you to never forget the feel of him. “Fill me up, make me your perfect little cumslut, daddy, just keep me—keep me.” 

“Always,” he rasped, his lips at your temple. The promise in that single word buried deep in your heart, taking root. 

Something changed between you and Ari, and you knew he felt it too because he started fucking you faster than before, his hips snapping harder against your ass so he could push deep into your cunt with every thrust.

“Fuck, honey, ‘m almost there, are you close?” he rasped, his tone desperate. 

Your head bobbed in a nod. 

“Uh huh, ‘m close, just need a little more…” you trailed off in a whine, trying to push back on his cock and grind your clit against his stroking fingers at the same time.

Thankfully, Ari understood what you were begging for, and he rubbed you harder, his fingers relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure while he rutted into your cunt.

“C’mon, honey, come on daddy’s cock,” he rumbled in your ear, his voice deliciously deep to match his dirty words and push you closer to the edge. “Be a good little cumslut and milk my cock, make me fill your sweet pussy with all my come, honey.” 

You buried your face into Ari’s bicep again, your teeth sinking into his skin as you screamed your release. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through your body, until your limbs were trembling and your fingers were shaking against the outside of Ari’s arm, having forgotten when you’d let go of the tree to cling to him.

With a grunt, Ari’s cock twitched inside you, reacting to the sting of your bite and the merciless grasping of your inner walls around his hard length. His hips stuttered, then he started fucking into you wildly, his thrusts falling out of rhythm while he chased his own release. 

“Good girl, honey, so good, feel so fucking good milking daddy’s cock,” he muttered, cutting off on a deep groan while his cock throbbed inside you.

Ari spilled himself deep in your cunt and you moaned weakly, pulling back from his arm and licking his golden skin to sooth the indents your teeth had left behind. He tasted like salty skin and sweet apples and you hummed in pleasure as you rode out the remainder of your release with your bodies writhing together.

After a few long moments basking in the glorious afterglow of coming together, Ari took a deep breath and shifted his arm, chuckling lowly when you whimpered at the loss of his bicep to lick and kiss. He made it up to you by turning your head and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, pouring all the affection you finally knew he felt for you into the way his mouth moved against yours. 

When he pulled away, leaving you slightly breathless, Ari leveled you with a serious look. 

“You know you’re special to me, don’t you, honey?” he asked, using the new pet name that you knew was shortened from ‘honeycrisp’. 

You’d been too wrapped up in your own head to notice the way it rolled off his tongue—it was an endearment for someone Ari cared about, someone who was special to him, as he said.

Biting your kiss-swollen lower lip, feeling a little abashed that it had taken you so long to realize what Ari felt for you, you nodded. You could feel your cheeks warming, and tried to duck your head, but Ari only chuckled and caught your lips in another kiss, though it was briefer.

When he’d kissed away your anxiety, Ari set about extricating himself from you, pulling free from your body and helping you down from the tree. He quickly stuffed his softening cock back into his pants and then helped smooth your dress back over your hips before doing up his slacks. You turned to him, brushing his hair back from his face and warming at the way he was smiling down at you. 

Ari had an infectious grin on his face, and you couldn’t help but return it, your heart feeling warm and cozy in your chest. 

The two of you smiled goofily as you helped right each other’s appearances. Once you’d fixed yourselves as much as possible, Ari stooped down to pick up the basket of apples you’d picked, then grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and planting a kiss on the back of your palm before heading off back to the farm stand.

As you walked past all the crowds of people, you were certain everyone knew what you and Ari had gotten up to in the orchard, but no one stopped or stared or said anything. They were all too focused on their own friends and families and the task of apple picking to notice you and Ari, or your big, silly smiles.

At the farm stand, Ari paid for the apples, then loaded them into his Lexus before helping you into the passenger seat. He dropped a kiss to your forehead, then rounded the front of the car and slid into his own seat.

You were quiet on the drive back to the city, your mind ruminating over the beginning of your relationship with Ari. When you thought back to your first few dates, you realized you’d been the one who was hesitant to answer any personal questions from your sugar daddy—and you’d never asked any of him. You’d also been the one to balk at the idea of either going back to his place or your apartment, leading him to get hotel rooms. 

Ari had been the one to respect your boundaries, even as he’d tried to get to know you better. He’d tried to ask you questions you felt comfortable answering—it was how he’d found out you liked apple picking, because you’d chosen it as a fall-themed date. He’d been so careful with you, it made your heart hurt a little that you’d kept him at arm’s length for so long.

Turning from the scenery of the foliage fading into the cityscape of New York, you ran your eyes over Ari’s profile. His expression was easy, relaxed and open, the hint of a smile on his face. You’d thought he just always looked like that, but you realized it was because he was with you. 

Reaching across the center console, you scooped up Ari’s hand and laced your fingers through his before settling your joined hands on your thigh. He glanced at you, shooting you a quick smile and squeezing your fingers, before turning back to the road.

By the time the car pulled into the underground parking garage of the high-rise on the Upper West Side where Ari lived, you were resolved to try to let your guard down a little more around him. Ari had shown you he could be trusted with your heart just as much as your body, and you were determined to show him you trusted him with all of you. 

Still, it was a little intimidating walking into his apartment for the first time, the anxiety that he was only bringing you there because he wanted something from you—something you didn’t want to give—was a knot in your stomach. But then you looked at Ari and you realized he’d never do that to you. He was bringing you to his home because he wanted to, not because he wanted something from you. 

Ari’s penthouse was warm and cozy, decorated in dark brown wood and warm golden tones, with hints of blue that reminded you of the ocean. You realized you knew Ari was a fan of the beach, because so many of the trips he’d taken you on had been close to the water. Walking into his home felt like walking into a reflection of his heart, and you didn’t take that for granted.

After setting down the apples on a table next to the door and stepping out of your shoes, Ari took you on a tour of his apartment, both the upstairs and the downstairs (because it was big enough to have two floors!). He showed you every room, including his bedroom and his study, tugging you into each by your joined hands when you seemed hesitant to enter his spaces.

Ari left the kitchen for last, but the two of you lingered in the living room, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park. Ari wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying you lightly from side to side, almost like you were dancing. 

“You have a beautiful home, Ari,” you said, looking out over the city and appreciating the way the buildings and treetops were cast in the warm, yellow glow of afternoon sunshine. An errant thought crossed your mind, that you could get used to the view from Ari’s apartment. It was stunning.

“Thank you, honey,” Ari murmured, dropping a kiss to the base of your throat while his arms squeezed you tighter. He buried his face in your neck, so his words were a little muffled when he said, “I always hoped you’d like it enough to want to come over again and… again.”

You could hear in the pause of his words where he’d stopped himself from saying something different, and you wondered over it. But you knew yourself well enough not to ask. If just walking into his apartment felt like a big step, you knew asking him what he’d meant to say might spook you a bit too much, and you didn’t want that. So you just hummed in response.

Ari chuckled, like he somehow knew it was taking effort for you to be in his apartment, and he thought it was cute how difficult it was for you. His mouth trailed up your neck, effectively distracting you from your thoughts, before nipping at the edge of your jaw. 

“Want to see the kitchen now?” 

Nodding so eagerly, you nearly head-butted him, you turned in his hold and looked up at him with expectant eyes. Ari gave you an affectionate smile, then grabbed your hand and led the way to the kitchen.

He’d saved it for last, and when you stepped inside, you understood why. A gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the beautiful space. The color scheme of the apartment carried over to the kitchen, with dark brown cabinets and lighter wood countertops. There was a pop of blue in the backsplash, and all kinds of expensive gadgetry. 

You were so busy taking everything in, it took you a moment to spot the brand-new stand mixer sitting on the counter in a color that matched the rest of the room. Beside it were some of the ingredients you’d need for the apple crisp cheesecake you’d told Ari you wanted to make and you realized his assistant must’ve already come and gone. 

Walking over and running your fingers over the sleek mixer, tears welled up in your eyes. It took effort to blink them away, and you shook your head slightly at yourself. It seemed silly to be crying over a stand mixer, but it felt bigger than that, like it was a sign of Ari making room in his life for you. He wanted you there, he wanted to keep you, like you’d begged him to. 

“Everything ok, honey?” Ari asked, coming to stand behind you, but not touching you, giving you some space while you processed everything you’d realized that day.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice thick, no doubt giving away the emotion you were feeling. Before you could overthink it, you spun around and threw your arms around Ari’s shoulders, launching yourself at him for a tight hug. “You bought a mixer,” you stated, as if that was explanation enough. 

A soft laugh rumbled in Ari’s chest and he swept a hand down your spine, comforting you while a few tears leaked down your cheeks and into the collar of his denim shirt.

“Well, yeah,” he responded good-naturedly, a smile in his voice. “I did say I wanted you to want to come back, didn’t I?” 

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, laughing a little at his comment. Then you murmured, in a small voice, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ari said, sounding genuine. 

For a long moment, you hugged him, and then you pulled away, swiping at your cheeks to clear away any tears or makeup. 

“Is the offer still open to bake while wearing only your shirt?” you asked, tipping your head back to smile shyly at Ari while your fingers played with the collar of his button-up.  

A grin spread across his face while shrugged out of the denim shirt. Then, to your surprise, he yanked his t-shirt off over his head, asking you which one you wanted. 

You took the denim one with fumbling fingers, your eyes raking over his bare chest while warmth bloomed deep in your core. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Ari shirtless, of course, but you never got tired of looking at the expanse of his golden skin, dusted with dark brown hair that you wanted to rake your nails through. 

Ari let you look for a moment, using your distraction to help you slip out of your dress. Then he eased your arms into the denim shirt and buttoned it up, his big hands pausing briefly to grope your soft body every few moments. 

There was a glimmer of deep satisfaction in his blue eyes when he stepped back to look at you in his shirt. 

“Mm, you look so pretty, honey,” he rasped, taking one last look before crowding you into the counter at your back. His gaze darkened as he stared down at you, his grin turning wolfish when he rumbled, “I think I need a snack before you start baking.”

That was your only warning. You shrieked with surprised laughter when Ari hauled you back into the living room and tossed you down on one of his leather couches. Your giggles cut off abruptly in a moan when Ari descended on you, burying his face between your thighs and feasting on you like he was starving.

Your fingers twisted in Ari’s brown hair while he ate your pussy, encouraging you to scream your pleasure in the comfort of his home while he made you come against his mouth. You shattered apart with a loud cry while he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth greedily devouring your release, and the come he’d buried inside you earlier, like he hadn’t eaten in days. 

When he finally pulled away, Ari’s beard was soaked in your juices and he grinned up your body while you lay limply on the couch, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Chuckling at the sight of you sprawled out on his couch, Ari pressed wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, licking the traces of your release from your skin.

“Fuck, honey, I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbled, his big hands kneading your plush thighs and hips, proving his point since it seemed like he couldn’t stop touching you. The blatant need and desire in his voice sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“If you keep going, I won’t have the strength to bake,” you warned him in a breathless voice, managing to lift your head enough to give him a stern look. 

Ari laughed into your thigh, pressing one last kiss to your skin before he raised up and gave you a wink. “Can’t have that,” he quipped, grabbing your hands and helping you up off the couch. You stumbled a little, your legs weak from your orgasm, but Ari caught you easily, wrapping his arm around your waist while he led you into the kitchen. 

Once you were propped up against the counter near the stand mixer, Ari left to retrieve the apples from the entryway. When he returned, you noticed he carried a pair of slippers that matched the ones he’d put on. Without saying a word, he set them on the floor next to your bare feet and carried on to start washing the fruit in the sink. 

You stepped into the slippers, your heart warming when you realized they were a perfect fit. For a long moment, you stared at Ari’s bare shoulders and broad back, wondering how you’d ever kept such a thoughtful man at arm’s length. Well, you decided, once again, you wouldn’t be doing that anymore. 

Turning back to the stand mixer and the ingredients, you organized everything on the counter, going to the fridge to pull out everything else you’d need. 

To your surprise, you and Ari worked well together in the kitchen. Once he was done cleaning all the apples you’d picked, he asked what he could do next, and you put him to work peeling and coring the fruit while you worked on the other elements of the cheesecake. 

When it came time to bake, Ari took the pan from your hands and popped it into the oven while you set a timer. Tension crackled between the two of you after the oven had snapped closed, and you came together in a flurry of limbs. Ari guided you back into the living room while he kissed you, his hands making quick work of removing all your remaining clothes.

You rode Ari to another orgasm while the sweet treat baked, the golden glow of the New York City sunset keeping the apartment awash in warm hues that made you feel cozy—like you were home. 

Once you were both sated, you collapsed on top of Ari’s chest, burying your face in his neck and nuzzling into his beard. You inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, vetiver and leather, with a little bit of cinnamon from baking, and melted against him. You wanted to breathe in nothing but that scent for the rest of your life—and you refused to let that thought scare you.

Ari pulled a flannel blanket off of the back of his couch and wrapped it around you both, your pussy keeping his cock warm while you cuddled together until the timer went off. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Ari take the baking pan out of the oven wearing only an oven mitt on his hand. You, meanwhile, stood off to the side with the flannel blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He’d told you the blanket was highly flammable and insisted you stay clear of the oven with a stern look that made your insides go all gooey.

The two of you made out in the kitchen and made dinner while the cheesecake cooled. All the while, you kept thinking how easy it was to be with Ari, how you could see what your life would be like together. And you liked how it looked. You liked kissing him whenever you wanted and asking him about what movies he liked and what was the last book he read.

After dinner, you ate a slice of cheesecake together, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Ari’s face, enjoying every little groan and expression of pleasure he made. It was erotic enough that you left the last bite for him, getting to your feet to walk around the table and straddle his lap. 

He fucked you to another, blisteringly hot orgasm, and laughed only a little when you fell against his chest with an exhausted, but satisfied, sigh. 

In a soft voice, Ari asked if you’d stay the night, and the hope in his tone made your heart warm enough that you ignored the brief flicker of anxiety the question prompted. You shushed the worry inside you and said yes. 

Together, you cleaned up the kitchen and then Ari led you upstairs to the bedroom, pausing every few minutes to kiss you, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there. 

He gave you some of his clothes to wear to bed and showed you where everything was in his bathroom. You couldn’t help but notice that he had all of your favorite products, and a spare toothbrush for you. You smiled as you got ready for bed and slipped under the covers with him.

“Did you have a good day, honey?” Ari asked, pulling you into his body and wrapping you up in his arms. You were wearing one of his t-shirts—a clean one—while he had on a pair of boxer briefs. You hummed happily when your legs tangled together, enjoying the feel of his warm skin and tickling hair against you. 

“Mm, I had the best day, Ari,” you murmured sleepily, the comfort and warmth of his bed making it easy to let your exhaustion creep in. “Kiss,” you said, turning your head and repeating the greeting Ari had given you when he’d picked you up.

Your sugar daddy chuckled, the sound rumbling down your spine and making your heart flutter with delight. Your eyes were already closed, but you could feel his smile when he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll still be here in the morning,” he promised, his words assuaging a fear you hadn’t realized you’d felt, and you sighed in contentment.

Everything had changed between you and Ari, and you couldn’t help but think it was for the better. You were still a little anxious about opening yourself up to someone, especially a sugar daddy, but Ari had shown you that you could trust him—really trust him, with all your heart—and you were determined to do just that.

“G’night, Ari,” you whispered into the pillow that smelled like him, a hint of a smile in the curve of your mouth as sleep claimed you. 

“Good night, honey,” Ari crooned in your ear, his voice gentle and soft and oh so affectionate. “My sweet, sweet honeycrisp.”

[aemondsbabe]

Stick it Out to the End

summary: michael is desperate to get into oxford's prestigious bullingdon club; unfortunately for him, they command him to do the impossible to gain admittance

pairing: michael gavey x bimbo!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, bimbo reader, mentions of hazing but nothing horrible/extreme, virgin!michael, breast/nipple play, praise kink, piv sex, protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), oral sex (f receiving), consensual filming, dirty talk, cursing, what i hope is saltburn-esque humor, mild size kink, mild angst but happy ending, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 12.7k

a/n: images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only & are not used to describe the reader! she's back and she's long as hell but what else is new!!! this is my first time writing bimbo!reader and while she wasn't super bimbo-y, it was fun getting my feet wet! hope y'all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🩷 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

Michael

Michael couldn’t help but feel his heart speed up in his chest as he wound through the quiet corridors clutching tightly to the cryptic note he’d found stuffed in his pigeonhole that morning – just a page torn out of a standard notebook covered hastily written red ink; wholly un-intimidating as far as cryptic notes were concerned. Really, he was surprised to see they didn’t put more effort in; with as secretive and imperious as this little club was, he had been expecting some sort of extravagant stationary, perhaps even some gold embossing. 

Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming janitor’s closet door, he narrows his eyes behind the gold frames of his glasses, staring at the door with a nearly accusatorial expression. Michael swivels his head once more, his brows furrowed as he checks and re-checks every door in the vicinity before turning back to the one he stands before. Scoffing, he unfolds the note with a little irritated sigh and quickly scans the page again, mouthing the words to himself for the millionth time that day. 

The riddle had been easy enough to figure out, some trivial little lines about dead men walking, the mob, finding God, and looking to one’s heart pointed right toward some hush hush basement beneath the Merton College Chapel. That, and it didn’t take a genius to see that each line consisted of a specific number of words, pointing him right to the very door he stood in front of now – 129. 

Fucking amateurs, he’d thought after cracking the code in under half an hour. But that was earlier. And now, as he stares at the stupid dull grey janitor’s closet door in front of him, Michael can’t stop the little tendrils of doubt from creeping into his periphery. He’s sure this is the right door and positive this is the right place and yet… janitor’s closet. He checks his watch, 11:50 PM on the dot, and glances up and down the dark, shadowy corridors once more, half expecting one of the twatty rich assholes to jump out and start snickering at him, making fun of him for thinking that a no one like him would’ve ever received an invite to a club like this. 

Shaking his head, he reaches for the doorknob anyway, he’s come this far so he may as well. He freezes a little when it actually turns and his blue eyes go wide when he pushes the door open, shivering a little as he’s met with a wall of cool, dank air – eau de basement, just as he’d expected. A little actually impressed sigh passes his lips when he pokes his head in, an apprehensive smile blooming on his lips as he takes in the eerie red lighting spilling up the stairwell from the God-knows-what downstairs. 

He winces as the door squeaks when he tugs it open but he doesn’t stop, emboldened now as he knows he had been right once again. He takes the stairs quickly, probably too quickly given that he hasn’t a fucking clue what or who could be down here, but before he can dwell on the idea too much, he’s faced with another corridor. This one, unlike the ones upstairs, is narrow and brick-lined and leads in only one direction, straight to another closed door at the other end. 

Michael squints against the bright red light coming from a spotlight that had been haphazardly set up on the stone floor and walks down the hallway, his steps speeding up as he hears the janitor’s door above him open and close once more. His breath hitches a little as he opens the second door and quickly steps inside, like ripping off a band-aid. 

He freezes once more when a strong hand latches onto his shoulder and quickly jerks him further into the room, making him yelp as he stumbles, trying to keep pace with whoever the hell is leading him. 

“What the –”

Before he has time to so much as blink, his back thuds against a brick wall and finally he looks up, the vicious scowl he’d prepared morphing into a look of disturbed confusion as he eyes a row of other students, about fifteen and all men from the looks of it, dawned with black –

Oh, Christ, are those ski masks? He thinks as he eyes them up and down, How fucking banal… at least it’s not hooded cloaks. He nearly rolls his eyes as he scans the rest of the room, taking in the dim lighting interspersed with blues and greens from more of those stupid party boy spotlights. Glancing to the side, he sees another boy in his year, some guy he only knew from a few classes and passing glances in the hallways, but even still he’s comforted to not be alone down here, no matter how cliché this whole affair seemed. 

His blue eyes snap forward as the door, the only door, to the room is opened once more and some other poor sap is hastily dragged across the room, only to be smacked on the wall to his left. Again, it’s just some other boy Michael knows from classes, though he doesn’t know why he expects any different – it’s not as if he knows many people outside of the forced proximity of a lecture hall. Which was really his only reason for putting up with this bother, for seeking it out in the first place; a quick flash of him placing a tightly folded up sticky note with his name and pigeonhole number in an old, beaten up copy of King Lear in the library played in his mind – the price he seemed to pay for loneliness. 

Distantly, the bells of the chapel began to chime, signaling the hour. Once, twice, and eventually twelve times – midnight. Time to start the show, Michael surmises. 

“Welcome, initiates,” one of the hooded men says in a tone that makes Michael glare judgmentally, his voice pitched down like some idiotic knock-off Darth Vader. He steps forward from the row they stand in and holds his arms out open at his sides, “Consider this your first foray into the Bullingdon Club.”

Again, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a scoff. This was all just so… juvenile? He was beginning to sincerely doubt that this was the über clandestine club that granted its members all sorts of connections to various businesses, societies, and insider information that even the richest of the rich couldn’t buy. 

Unfortunately, his face seemed to betray more of his emotions than he intended and the masked boy steps forward once more, his dark eyes zeroing in on Michael. 

“You,” he says gruffly, pointing a finger in his direction, “Something you wanna say, initiate?”

Out of habit, he pushed his glasses up on his nose before he spoke, perhaps foolishly bold given the situation. 

“Doesn’t this all seem a bit much for three people?” He scoffs, shaking his head slightly, “I mean, masks, really?”

The hooded boy stops for a second and studies Michael closely, one hand on his hip, “What’s wrong with the masks?”

“Well, what’s the point? There’s, what, fifteen or sixteen of you? And three of us?” He asks, glancing around the room, which he now realized very clearly used to be some run-of-the-mill storage room, probably forgotten about by now.

The boy laughs sarcastically and shrugs his shoulders a bit, his voice back to its natural pitch, “It wouldn’t really be a secret thing if we just invited half the student body, mate.”

Michael supposes his reasoning is sound and says as much with a little hum and nod of his head, eyebrows raising dismissively. 

“Anything else?” The masked boy asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The masks don’t really disguise you lot that well,” he observes, pointing at one of the other boys standing in the row, “That’s Harry from Multivariable Calculus.”

“Shit…” Harry mutters under his breath, the sound carrying through the concrete room. A few of the other boys in the row lean over and place comforting hands on his shoulders and murmur words of encouragement, much to Michael’s dismay.

“Why’re you here, initiate?” The lead boy asks, turning back to Michael.

“Dunno,” he shrugs again, pushing his glasses up his nose, “Friends, I guess.”

A couple of the boys in the row make little noises, mutters of empathy that make the blond’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion as he glances up and down the line. 

“And this was your first thought? A secret society?” Harry from Multivariable Calculus asks with a little laugh, “Not like… chess or something?” 

“Don’t really like chess…” Michael says with a little shrug. Apparently a good enough answer for Harry, who makes a little noise of understanding and nods his head. 

After another moment, the lead boy clears his throat, which shuts up the rest. “Anyway,” he says, his voice falsely low once more. “Each of you will be given a task…,” his dark eyes glance between Michael and the other two boys as he paces in front of them, “Perfectly customized to challenge you, to push you to your absolute limits.” 

The masked boy pauses his little speech and gestures back to three of the other boys standing in the row behind him who then step forward and walk over to the dank brick wall that Michael and the other two boys stand against. He studies the boy that walks towards him carefully, his eyes narrowing in suspicion when he notices how much shorter he appears to be.

Finally, the boy comes to stand before him and presents a plain white envelope, though Michael’s lips spread into a hateful smirk when he sees an all too familiar pair of old, beat up trainers on the boy’s feet. 

“Oliver?!” He hisses meanly, shock lacing his voice as he jerks back the hand he had reached out for the envelope, wincing as his elbow collides with the cool wall behind him. He glances around the room, noting the few pairs of eyes that were on him, before fixing his gaze on the boy before him once more with a harsh glare, “You’re in Bullingdon?”

The boy in front of him hesitates for a second, cutting a sideways glance toward a taller boy that was busy presenting an envelope to the boy to Michael’s left, before he sighs and looks back at him, blue eyes peeking out of the holes in his ski mask. “Yeah,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders defensively, “How’d you know it was me, then?”

“You look like a goddamn twelve year old!” Michael jeers, his voice low and vicious as his hands curl into fists at his sides, “How’d you manage to get into this club anyway?” He questions, seething, “They only let you in if you have the money or the marks and I know for a fucking fact you don’t have either.”

Oliver sighs again and rolls his eyes, which makes him see red and grit his teeth, although he doesn’t miss how the shorter boy’s eyes cut to the side again quickly. He opens his mouth, but before he can get a word in edgewise, the blond cuts him off with a little mocking laugh.

“Don’t tell me that’s fucking Catton,” Michael groans lowly with a shake of his head, breathing heavily as he feels the same sense of anger and betrayal he’d felt all those months ago well up in him once more, transporting him right back to the stupid damn pub, “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, is this shite little club only full of cunts?”

��Look, I’m –” 

Oliver starts to speak again, only to be cut off when the head boy traipses over to where they are, coming to stand ominously behind him with his arms clasped behind his back. His dark eyes dart between the two boys before he speaks.

“Problem over here, lads?”

“No,” Oliver answers quickly, staring warily up at Michael as he practically shoves the envelope into his arms, “Just complete the task, initiate. You have thirty-six hours.” 

Before Michael can blink, Oliver turns his back and stalks back over to the other boys, taking his place in the row once more. The head boy looks Michael up and down appraisingly before nodding to the letter in his hands with a sly smirk.

“I can’t wait to see how you fare with that one, Gavey,” he says, his voice low and threatening, as if he’s in on the most delicious joke, “Remember, thirty-six hours, initiate.” He chuckles softly and departs, returning to stand in the center of the room. 

Everyone stands still for a moment, Michael and the other two boys to his left and right holding their respective envelopes nervously, unsure if they were supposed to open them now or not. Thankfully, the head boy clears his throat, commanding all eyes to him once again.

“Initiates,” he says slowly, his voice no doubt already hoarse from this little farce, “Failure to complete your tasks will result in a permanent ban from Bullingdon; no second chances. We expect results as well as proof of those results,” his dark eyes scan over the three boys once more, one corner of his mouth turned up into a mean smirk, “We’ll be seeing you back in this location Sunday at noon. Your thirty-six hours begin now… have fun.” He finishes with a taunting laugh before turning and exiting from the room, the old door creaking as he pulls it open before disappearing into the faint red glow of the hallway, followed by the rest of the fifteen boys in an orderly line.

As soon as the old door closes, the sound of paper tearing echoes around the dimly lit basement as Michael and the other two boys hastily tear open their envelopes. Pulling out a little slip of paper, his eyes go wide as a wave of dread washes over him. His eyes scan over the paper again and again as he nervously shoves his glasses back up his nose once more, silently willing the chicken-scratch words on the paper to somehow change, to give him some other command. 

His heart is pumping so loudly in his ears that he misses it when one of the other boys tries getting his attention, his head snapping up suddenly as a hand waves in front of it.

“Oi!”

“W-What?” 

“What did they give you?” The boy asks, nodding at the scrap of paper in Michael’s hand.

He clears his throat and tries his best to come off as casual, though he hardly cares with the way thoughts begin racing through his mind. “Oh, um,” he starts, glancing down to read over the paper once more, “I just uh, have to sleep with someone is all.”

The other two boys gape at him for a moment before groaning frustratedly. The one that had first spoken to him holds his paper out and smacks it disdainfully with the back of his hand.

“What the hell?” He asks gruffly, glancing between his paper and Michael, “Why’s yours so bloody easy?”

“For real,” sighs the second boy, rubbing the back of his head, “Ours are damn near impossible. They must already be decided on you to go so soft. How am I meant to steal the fucking Selden Map from Bodleian?” He laments, brows furrowed as he stares down at the paper in his hands.

“Yeah, and I have to transfer ten thousand pounds out of the chancellor’s bank account and into mine!” The first boy sighs, shaking his head, “At least your mum’s head of conservatorship here, you can at least get within a stone’s throw of the map. I have to commit fucking wire fraud!” 

The two boys grumble for another moment as Michael silently descends into a tailspin, his blue eyes unfocused as he stares at one of the dingy brick walls of the basement, trying desperately to formulate a plan, any plan. He merely glances up as the other to head for the door, spitballing ideas for each of their tasks.

“Isn’t your dad the president of Julius Baer? Can’t you just get him to pull strings?”

“Oh, yeah, fantastic idea! I’ll just ring him and ask the old man to commit a felony! What could possibly go wrong there?”

Michael tries to tune out their bickering as the three of them ascend the staircase and trail out into the hallway of Merton College Chapel once more; the two other boys don’t pay him any mind as they continue whispering amongst themselves, their voices trailing quietly down the hallway as he leans with his back against the cool metal of the janitor’s closet door. 

Sighing, he reads over the directive again, his blue eyes catching on the sharply scrawled letters of a very familiar name, one that makes his cheeks flush and his heart race. He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

How could they know to do this? He wonders sheepishly. It’s not like he’d mentioned her to anyone; hell, he’d never even said so much as three words to her! No, his pathetic little crush was entirely in his mind. 

Too much of a coward to even say hi, he bemoans, trying to stave off the sense of shame he felt as he considered how many times he’d finished with her name on his lips, her pretty face and soft curves and sweet smell and little girly outfits whirling around his head since he’d spotted her on the first fucking day; he’d pined ever since and she didn’t even know he existed! How could she?

This is fucking impossible, he thinks miserably, wishing that he had any other task. He’d rather steal the Queen’s own goddamn family jewels than this. He glances at his watch once more and groans when he sees it’s almost already two in the morning; pushing himself up off the door, he hangs his head as he scurries back to his dorm room, thoughts spiraling as he plots. 

You

A laugh bubbles up past your lips as you sway your hips, your whole body vibrating as “Umbrella” blasts through the speakers while you dance with your friends, partying to celebrate the end of term. 

“You can run into my arms, it’s okay, don't be alarmed!” You sing happily, yours and your friends voices mingling together with another peal of laughter; you take another sip of your drink as you move along with the beat of the song, savoring the fizzy strawberry daiquiri as you begin to feel a bit warm from the little rush of alcohol, already on your third drink of the night. 

You smile proudly as you spot Felix in the crowd, his hazel eyes already fixed on you, or well, fixated on your chest. His attention makes you preen and you bite your lower lip, the sickly sweet taste of your cherry lip gloss filling your mouth as you purposefully bounce up and down on the balls of your feet. 

The thin straps of your pastel pink dress hold on for dear life as your chest heaves enticingly, and you giggle when you see those hazel eyes widen just a bit, no doubt tracing over the glittering chain of your necklace, following down to where it settles, a little sparkly pink diamond nestling temptingly at your cleavage. You teasingly wink, blushing a little when you get a wink back, and go back to dancing with your friends, knowing from experience that Felix preferred to approach rather than be approached. 

You dance with your friends for a few more moments, grinding up against any warm body you can find as a raunchier song begins pumping through the speakers, before you feel eyes on you yet again. Smiling at the attention, you glance around again, the low, colorful lighting of the pub making it hard to tell exactly which direction your admirer’s coming from. 

Your eyes flit over a few familiar faces, you can’t help but sigh in relief when you notice that Oliver’s eyes are thankfully planted firmly on someone that is not you, though a confused little crease forms between your brows when you realize that Felix’s aren’t either. Turning your head, you sway along to the music still as you look around quickly, your feet beginning to ache finally from the precious little satin Chanel heels buckled around your ankles. 

Your eyes finally lock onto an unexpected gaze, a fresh wash of pink coloring your cheeks as blue eyes glance shyly away from you. A little giggle titters past your lips as you lean over to one of your friends, patting her shoulder to get her attention.

“You know who that blond guy is? With the glasses?” You call over the music, nodding over in your admirer’s direction as he stands awkwardly back against the wall by the entrance, clutching a still-foamy pint. 

She glances over before turning back to you with a little shrug. “Michael something, I think!” She says, her breath warm as she leans in closer so you can hear her, “I thought Oliver knew him!”

Your eyes immediately find the brunette, predictably following Felix around like a lost little puppy, before you look back over at Michael. You can’t help but feel a bit bad when you see him quickly look away from your direction again before staring intently into his pint glass, one hand shoved in the pocket of his khaki pants. 

“I’m gonna take a breather for a second!” You yell over the loud music, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her ear. 

“Aw, babe, come on!” She pouts playfully, tilting her head at you, “Stay longer!”

You shake your head with another little laugh and gesture at your feet, “These are sooo cute but they’re killing me!” You laugh, finishing off the last sip of your drink, “I’ll be over by the notice board!” You tell her, blowing a kiss as you walk away from the dance floor of the small, cramped pub. 

Finally, you reach the little area by the front door and lean back against the wall, taking in a much-needed deep breath as you pull your little tube of lip gloss out of your bra and carefully reapply some more, smirking when you glance over out of the corner of your eye and see a certain blond boy already shyly eyeing you. 

Rubbing your lips together with a little pouty pop, you tuck your gloss back in your bra once more before slowly approaching Michael, prettily manicured hands clasped behind your back to help shamelessly push your chest out more. His wide eyed stare makes you giggle and blush as you study him, eyes flitting appreciatively up and down his lithe frame; so much potential hidden away under a little button down and khakis. 

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you tease, smirking when he blushes and all but chokes on his beer, coughing for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I… Me?” He asks awkwardly, glancing around for seemingly anyone else you could be talking to.

Lucky for him, you find his awkwardness endearing. Truthfully, you had for months, never missing the way his eyes always happened upon you in a crowd. There was something impressive about the boy, something that had made your mind drift to him on more than one occasion, even if you were already under someone else. 

“Of course you, silly,” you laugh softly, leaning against the wall next to him and tilting your head curiously, “You’re Michael, right?”

His eyes go wide again and nods wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, Michael,” he says with a reserved little smile, “Gavey! Michael Gavey…” He adds awkwardly, cheeks flushing even more when you giggle, seemingly charmed by his inability to string two words together. He nods as you introduce yourself.

“I know,” he says before blinking, eyes going wide behind his gold framed glasses as he awkwardly glances away, “I just… I mean I’ve heard your name before, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” You echo with a flirty little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you let the moment linger, just wanting to push him a little. “What’re you reading?” You ask curiously, cocking your head to the side a little.

“Maths,” he nods quickly before looking down into his pint glass once more as if fizzling beer is the most interesting thing in the world, “I don’t really like it all that much, though… I mostly only picked it because I’m good at it.”

“Ooh,” you coo softly, nodding along with his words as you watch him carefully, “You must be wicked smart, I can’t do maths to save my life.” You comment with a little giggle, biting your lip when he seems to perk up at that comment and looks up at you with a little grin. 

“I can do it in my head,” he says lowly, an unexpectedly cocky edge to his voice that has your heart picking up in your chest, “Ask me a sum,” he says, a challenging glimmer in his eyes. 

You hum softly, biting your lip as you think for a second, “Uhm, seventy-two plus a hundred and thirteen?”

“One eighty-five,” he chuckles after no more than a second before scoffing a little, “Come on, give me one that’s hard, love.”

Love? The little pet name makes you raise an eyebrow before you laugh softly. “What do you mean a hard one?” You giggle, shaking your head, “That one was hard!”

“That was hard for you?” He teases, making your cheeks tingle as a pink flush settles over your skin, “What’re you reading, then?”

“Art history!” You chirp proudly, chuckling nervously when you see him roll his eyes a bit, “What? Something wrong with that?”

He shakes his head dismissively, quickly polishing off the last of his pint before setting the empty class on a table and turning back to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with a grin, “Ask me another one, then. Biggest numbers you can think of.”

You don’t know why, but something about his little challenge has you blushing again, like he’s testing you somehow. But still, you take a moment to think of some numbers, biting your lip and quirking your eyes up toward the ceiling. 

“Six hundred thirty-two times… eight hundred ninety-one,” you hum, cocking your head to the side as you watch him closely. His eyes seem to glaze over, only for a second, before once again he’s spouting off numbers like a calculator. 

“Five hundred sixty-three thousand, one hundred and twelve.” 

Your eyebrows raise at that as you gawk at him. “Wow…,” you breathe after a moment, blinking as you stare up at him, “You’re, like, super smart, then?”

“Suppose so,” he says, smiling shyly again as he tucks both hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

You study him for a moment as the conversation lulls, finding something endlessly fascinating about the boy; the way he could swing from being so cocky and self assured to shy and awkward makes your stomach do summersaults. Turning your head, you spot your group of friends still dancing and you look back at Michael with a little sigh as another upbeat song blasts loudly through the pub. 

“D’you wanna get out of here?” You ask, smirking when he looks up at you shyly.

“W-What?”

“My dorm’s only, like, a minute from here,” you flirt, sweet and enticing as you make him blush somehow more, “We could go somewhere more… quiet?”

He stares at you for a moment, shocked that you’re asking him of all people to come back to yours before he nods and nervously runs a hand through his wheat colored hair, unsuccessfully trying to act casual. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Yay!” You giggle happily, flirtatiously grabbing one of his hands as you saunter past him, heading for the exit, “C’mon, it’s like a five minute walk!” He nods wordlessly and you can’t help but smirk as he follows you like a lost little puppy. 

True to your word, it’s only a few minutes later when you and Michael reach your dorm room, after you’d stopped for a minute at the entrance to your hall to chat with Farleigh, who seemed very interested in the nerdy boy following at your heels. You just couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you and Michael left him standing at the doors, mouth open and a wicked little gleam in his eyes; no doubt, he’d immediately scurried off to the King’s Arms. 

The door to your room opens with a tiny squeak, blasted old building, and you all but prance inside, turning back to the blond boy still lingering in the doorway with a smile. 

“Am I going to have to invite you in like a vampire?” You joke with a little laugh as you bend down to quickly undo the buckles of your heels, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally step out of them, leaving you in frilly white ankle socks.  

Michael finally steps into your room with a huffed laugh and quickly kicks off his shoes, you smirk when you see his Star Wars themed socks. “‘M no vampire, love,” he quips, gold framed eyes darting around your room as he looks over every detail. You grin at the little blush on his cheeks and perch on the edge of your bed to watch him, head tilted ever so slightly. 

“It’s, uh, it’s cute in here,” he observes, his voice a low hum as he takes in your frilly, lacy curtains, plush white rug, and equally girlish floral bedding, all encased in the faint pink glow of the heart-shaped fairy lights strung up around the room, “Just like how I imagined…” He breathes, so lowly you doubt he meant to say that bit aloud. 

“Like you imagined?” You echo with a little giggle, quickly reapplying your lip gloss before setting the little tube on the corner of your desk. 

“I just… I – It’s just very… you, is all I meant,” he stutters, running a hand through his hair awkwardly, the apples of his cheeks flushed a dark pink. 

His awkwardness is so endearing, you can’t help but grin. The more time you spend with him, the more interesting he seems to become; this bumbling, nervous boy is so different from the one you’ve seen on campus so many times. On campus, he’s comfortable, quiet still, but with a definite air of confidence – clearly in his element as he prowls through bookshelves in the library or explains some complex math formula in the quad. 

“So, you think about me often, then?” Your voice stays sweet, innocent almost, though you can’t help but tease him; he’s so pretty when he blushes. 

“No!” He answers quickly, whipping his head toward you from where he’d been studying the various pictures tacked up on the walls, everything from boy band posters to stills from Clueless and Legally Blonde. “I mean, yes, sometimes, I…,” he fumbles again and pushes his glasses up his sharp nose, “I think about you a normal amount.” He says finally, glancing at you quickly before looking away. 

You hum softly and stand before walking toward him with a kind smile, though you don’t miss the way he keeps glancing down at your cleavage, or the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows nervously. 

“A normal amount?” 

“Mhm,” he nods, gaze unsure as you come to stand in front of him, teeth biting into your plush lower lip as you twirl a piece of hair through your fingers, “As much as I think of anyone else.”

“So…,” you breathe, drawing out the word as you reach up and fiddle with the collar of his button down shirt, the turquoise gingham a bright blue blip among all the blush tones of your room, “Every time I’ve caught you looking at my tits in the library or in the quad or in the hallways… that was just a normal amount?”

You giggle as his eyes go wide, his lips opening and closing like a fish out of water. Deciding to take mercy on him, you run a finger down his chest, playfully fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“Relax, I’m not mad,” you shake your head, smiling when the tension in his shoulders visibly eases, “Why wouldn’t I want a cutie like you staring?”

His lips part at that as he sucks in a little breath, blue eyes widening behind his glasses. “You think I’m… cute?” He asks breathlessly, heart pounding under your fingertip. 

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip once more as you nod, cocking your head to the side just slightly as you peer up at him. “‘Course I do, honey, what’s not to like?”

Again, he gawks at you, blinking in shock and swallowing nervously.

“I –” 

“I do have one question though…,” you tease, pouting a bit as you slowly and carefully undo the very top button on his shirt, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah?” His voice breaks, making you giggle while he blushes somehow deeper.

“Mhm,” you nod, undoing the second button and pausing when you find a splash of hair across his chest, the same shiny wheat color as the hair on his head, causing a familiar knot to begin twisting itself up in your belly, “Why were you at the end of term party?”

He blinks for a second, evidently taken off guard. “I… W-Was it invite only?”

His question nearly makes you snort and you shake your head, the corners of your lips twitching as you try not to laugh. “No, sweetie,” you peer up at him through your lashes as you rest your hand against his bare chest, smirking ever so slightly when he shivers, “I just meant, I haven’t seen you at parties before… doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” 

“I, well,” he stammers, the bottoms of his glasses fogging up from the heat radiating off his cheeks, “I just –”

“It’s for that club, yeah?” You ask finally, giggling at the shocked expression on his face.

“How do –”

“You lot are not nearly as sneaky as you think,” you laugh cheekily, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet, “Plus, I heard Felix and Oliver whispering about something to do with tasks a few weeks ago… and boys are very bad at keeping secrets once you get their cocks out.” You add with a little giggle, taking Michael’s hand once more and dragging him over to your plush bed. You sit him on the edge before all but climbing in his lap, smiling cheekily as you straddle his thighs, your knees digging into your soft bedding.

“So,” you start, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself and smiling a little when he finally touches you, lightly resting his hands on your hips, “What’s your task, hm? I heard they made them, like, particularly brutal this year.”

“I don’t think I should say,” Michael murmurs with a little shake of his head, making you pout.

“Oh, come on!” You bounce on his lap a little, not missing the way his eyes seem to be drawn to your breasts like magnets, “I want to help! Is it something at the King’s Arms?”

“N-No, I really don’t think –”

“I know they keep the important rugby trophies there,” you think aloud, still playing dumb, just wanting him to say it, “Is that it? D’you have to steal one? One of the boys that works there owes me, I could get him to let you in after hours…” You prattle on, speaking faster and faster as Michael shakes his head beneath you.

Finally, he seems to reach a breaking point and his grip on your hips tightens. “I have to fuck you!” He blurts out before sighing.

“Oh, really?”

“I… I have to fuck you –”

“Mhm?”

“And prove I did somehow.”

“How interesting!”

He narrows his eyes at that and peers up at you suspiciously, studying you carefully. You can’t help but giggle, loving the way you feel when his eyes are on you, and you smirk when he finally blinks in realization.

“You… you knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A sly smile spreads across your lips as you nod, squirming excitedly on his lap. “Like I said,” you chuckle with a little shrug, “Not. Sneaky!” You tease, punctuating each word with a little boop to the tip of his nose, unable to resist. 

He stays silent for a moment, gazing up at you with a strange mixture of awe and unease before he finally speaks through a deep sigh. “So, I suppose this is the part where you tell me to leave?”

Well, that comment throws you off. You cock your head to the side, confused, as your eyebrows furrow together. “Why would I ask you to leave?”

He sighs again and grits his teeth, looking dejectedly at the floor. “Come on, love,” he mutters, looking anywhere but you, “I-It’s not like you’d ever want to –”

“Ever want to what?” You ask with a frown, gently grabbing at his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze, “You think I don’t wanna fuck you, honey?”

“Well, I –”

“Michael,” you say pointedly, raising your brows as you smirk slightly, staring deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m the one that came onto you, yeah?”

“I… I suppose.”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding your head as you run your fingers through his short hair, not missing the little sigh that leaves his lips when you push yourself closer to him, your chest pressing tightly against his, “And while I’m not thrilled at our first time being for some stupid little task –”

“It’s,” he cuts you off shyly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “It’s – I’ve never…” He stammers, nervously gripping at your waist once more. 

You can’t help but smile softly, so charmed by him over and over. You nod your head knowingly, raising your brows just a bit. “I know, honey,” you whisper reassuringly, “We don’t have to, I’ll let you take a pair of my panties or whatever else, but we don’t need to do anything.”

He sighs up at you again, so taken with you he feels like he could scream, and shakes his head more, grabbing at your hips tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “N-No, I… I want to,” he nods, swallowing anxiously, “I do, I just… don’t really know what I’m doing.”

You nod again, listening carefully as he speaks. “So, is it all new or…?”

He shakes his head and smiles a little, shyly, though the sight of it still makes that knot in your belly tighten further, making you blush on his lap while butterflies swirl around inside you. “I’ve kissed before,” he says lowly, chuckling awkwardly as he seems to get bolder, causing you to shudder when he lightly rubs his hands over your waist and hips, “And done… hand stuff.”

You giggle at his boyish explanation and bite your lip when you smile at him, wiggling in his lap as a heat begins to settle at the apex of your thighs. “Can I kiss you, honey?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat again, making you want so badly to press soft, glossy kisses to it, but you resist, determined to make this good for him. 

“Yeah,” he nods eagerly, blue eyes fixated on your lips.

You smile softly before leaning in and finally pressing your lips against his, both of you sighing at once. One of his hands stays at your hip while the other comes to rest in the small of your back, pressing you more tightly to him as your lips move together, his motions surprisingly fluid and practiced. 

You make a small noise in the back of your throat when you feel his tongue licking at your bottom lip, and eagerly allow him access with a little sigh. Your fingers busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making him shudder beneath you when you skim your hands over his bare chest and stomach as his tongue flows with your own, the bitter, coffee-ish flavor of the pint he’d had earlier still on his tongue.

Impatient, you pull back long enough to look at him for reassurance, smiling when you earn a little nod. You kiss him once more before tugging his shirt off, flushing when he groans lowly as you trail kisses down over his jaw and neck before swiping your tongue greedily over his Adam’s apple, making his breath hitch. 

“F-Fuck,” he sighs brokenly, bolding tracing over your thigh until his fingers are tucked up under the silky, baby pink material of your dress. His touches make you shiver as goosebumps bloom over your skin, making you whine against the pale column of his throat, “Can I?” He breathes, fingers toying with a strap of your dress while the others slowly inched the bottom of it up higher and higher. 

“God, please,” you mewl, nodding against his throat, your head on his shoulder. He shudders at the feel of your breath on his neck and nods once before tugging at the bottom of your dress. You sit up to help him, whining when you feel his hard length pressing against your thin, lacy underwear, “You don’t need to ask, Michael. Want you to take me however you want.” You whisper as he tugs your dress over your head, blue eyes meeting yours for a second as he nods before they skim lower, widening as he takes you in on his lap wearing only a bra and panties. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, making you giggle shyly as you lean in and softly kiss over his cheeks, “You have…you’re – you’re perfect,” he sighs, brazenly cupping your breasts, skimming his thumbs over your nipples through the thin pink fabric of your bra and smiling proudly when he feels them harden at his touch, “You’re perfect, but these are… holy shit.” He repeats, his voice breathy and mesmerized as he takes in your chest for another moment while you softly card your fingers through his golden hair. 

You gasp through a little giggle when you feel his length twitch, even through his trousers, and wiggle on his lap, blushing when the movement earns you a broken groan. “Yeah?” You whisper cheekily, watching as he marvels at your chest for a second longer before quickly unclasping your bra and shrugging out of it, tossing it down onto the floor with his shirt and your dress, “What about now?” You tease, proudly arching your back as you bite your lip.

He groans again, louder than he has all evening, and instantly ducks his head down. The feel of his soft lips wrapping eagerly around one of your nipples makes you cry out, gasping sharply as he sucks at the sensitive bud before he runs his tongue over it. You cradle the back of his head in your hands, fingers lightly pulling at the short strands of hair, as he switches from one breast to the other, kneading whichever one is free with his hand. 

Needing something, anything, you finally pull him off of your chest after a few moments, laughing when he all but whines, and smiling even more when you take in his disheveled appearance – blond hair sticking up at odd angles from where you’d run your fingers through it, cheeks flushed as his glasses sit crooked on his nose, and his blue eyes staring up at you hungrily. 

You shift back on his thighs just enough to snake a hand between the two of you and he gasps when you cup the bulge pressing against the zipper of his khakis. “You want me to suck your cock?” You ask cheekily, lightly squeezing at his length. 

He surprises you by shaking his head no,gulping slightly with an awkward laugh before answering. “I do, I really fucking do, love,” he breathes, kneading at your breasts as he stares up at you sheepishly, “B-But I really want to last and if you… if you suck it, I –”

“Okay, okay,” you stop him with a kiss, “We’ll table it for next time.” 

“N-Next time?” He questions, fighting to keep his eyes open as you press kisses against his neck once more. You nod against his shoulder and press kisses up to just beneath his ear. 

“I’m not letting you go that easy, honey,” you whisper, chuckling when he shivers. You spend another moment softly kissing and biting at his neck before speaking again, “Have you ever eaten anyone out?” You question, pulling back to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking between both of yours as he looks up at you. “No.” He answers simply, his voice hardly a whisper. 

You can’t help but smirk coyly and cock your head to the side, running a finger through the little patch of hair on his chest just to see him shudder. “You wanna try it?”

He nods eagerly and surprises you once again by quickly swinging you around, maneuvering you until your head rests on the pillows of your bed. You squeal at the movement, laughing with him as he settles over you, his narrow hips slotting easily between your thighs as you silently marvel at his unexpected strength, the shock of it going right between your legs. 

“You want me to lick your pussy?” He asks lowly, grinning when he sees your eyes widen ever so slightly. 

“You’re quite something, huh?” You breathe, still gazing up at him in surprise. 

“Observant,” he shrugs, smirking as he sits up, kneeling between your legs, “You aren’t the only one who is, love.” He teases, quickly undoing his belt and trousers and groaning as he pushes them down his thighs, stopping at his knees. 

Your eyes go wide at the size of his length, it’s clearly very impressive and it’s not even out of his plaid boxers yet. That smirk stays plastered on his face as he leans back down to hover over you, hastily removing his glasses and sitting them on your desk before sloppily kissing you for a moment, surprising you yet again by trailing wet kisses down your neck. 

“Michael…” You sigh dreamily, arching your back toward him when he starts kissing over your chest. He groans from deep in his chest, mouth pressed against the fat of your breast. 

“Fucking hell,” he curses, teasing your nipple again with the tip of his tongue, “Say it again, love.” 

His simple command sends shivers down your spine and you mewl, squirming underneath him, “M-Michael!” You moan again, fumbling over your words as he sucks at your breast again before he lifts his head. 

“Good girl,” he purrs with a sly, easy smirk that makes your heart jump, a soft sigh tumbling past your lips. He shifts further down the bed, kissing down over your ribs and stomach, his confidence seemingly growing every time he presses his lips against your skin; the thought makes your head spin.

Finally, he hooks his fingers into the lacy sides of your panties, and his eyes peer up at you as he tugs them down over your hips before flinging them onto the floor. “Oh, my God…,” he sighs, staring greedily at your pussy, a broken groan sounds from his throat when you spread your legs more. 

You bite your lip and giggle, smiling shyly as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. “Like what you see?” 

He nods his head rapidly, making you chuckle again as he stares up at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I… uh, w-what now?” 

He’s so endearing, you can’t help the little sigh that leaves you and you sit up a little, leaning back on an elbow as you use your other hand to spread your center open. You bite your bottom lip once more when he whines a little, seeing you all spread out before him, flushed folds already slick and shiny. 

“Lick here, honey,” you whimper as you skim your fingers over your clit, so keyed up from only a few kisses that you gasp a little when you feel yourself clench; Michael looks like he may pass out. 

Ever the dutiful student, he gives you one last look before diving in. Your head falls back with a whiny gasp as his tongue snakes over your clit, just as you’d instructed. A long, shuddery moan leaves him, vibrating against your cunt and you watch as his blue eyes all but roll back in his head. 

“Just like that, Michael,” you praise, tugging at his hair ever so slightly, which only serves to make him moan more. Your chest heaves as you watch him, determined not to let your eyes squeeze shut while he licks and kisses and sucks at your pussy like a man possessed, “Holy shit!” You whimper loudly when he pushes his tongue into you, groaning lowly when he feels your walls clench around it as he presses his nose perfectly against your clit. 

“You taste so good,” he gasps, wrapping his hands around your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants. He peers up at you through blond lashes as he feasts on you, sucking eagerly at your clit and savoring the way you shiver and squirm from his motions. 

Unbelievably, you already feel that warm, familiar tug in your belly beginning to grow, making your whole body feel flush and taut. “Just like that, just like that,” you whine urgently, grabbing onto his hair tighter and guiding his mouth exactly where you need it, your eyes finally rolling back and fluttering shut, “Holy fuck, don’t stop!” 

Michael grunts as you tug at his hair, his own hips rutting greedily against your pretty bedding — cock throbbing so hard there’s no doubt he’s leaked through his boxers. He watches you carefully, studying your movements and reactions as best he can while he rhythmically licks at your clit. 

“Oh, shit!” You cry not even a moment later, your whole body seeming to stutter as your muscles finally relax. You mewl as your high finally washes over you, savoring the way Michael groans into your cunt as he feels it contracting on his tongue. Your eyes stay squeezed shut as shivers roll up and down your spine, shuddered cries leaving your lips. 

Just as his touches begin to border on overstimulation, you have enough wherewithal to push him away, and he releases your center with a lewd little pop. 

“Was that good?” He asks through a breathless laugh, swallowing as he looks up at you, evidence of your arousal still shining on his lips and chin. 

“Good?” You huff, eyebrows raised as you gaze down at him, “You’re sure you’ve never done that before?” You question in disbelief, chest still heaving. 

He smiles shyly, already pink cheeks seeming to flush deeper from your praise as he chuckles. You cup his cheeks when he leans over you again, whimpering as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You sign as he kisses down your neck again, making him chuckle against your skin. 

“Just observant,” he grunts, shuddering when you wrap your legs around his trim waist. You gasp as his length brushes over your still sensitive pussy, impossibly hot and hard even through the thin fabric of his boxers. His fragmented sigh makes you smile and you tug his head up, blushing as you look up at him. 

“You ready, honey?” You breathe, giggling when he nods his head again eagerly, his hips stuttering instinctually against your center. “Here, let me…” You trail off, the two of you separating for a moment as you lean over and pull open the top drawer of your desk, pulling out a pack of condoms and tearing one off before laying back down. 

You watch enraptured as he kneels between your legs again, pulling down his boxers finally. “Holy…” you gasp when his cock finally bobs free, twitching up to rut against his lower stomach; he’s long and thick, curving a little as veins run up the underside, leading to a flushed, leaking head. He smiles shyly again at your attention as he shuffles awkwardly out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them off and onto the floor.

You hand him the condom and watch as he rolls it on, giving him a little reassuring smile as he does. Once it’s securely in place, you pull him back to you, eagerly kissing him once more and wrapping your legs securely around his waist. Both of you moan in unison when his length glides through your folds, the head catching perfectly on your clit. 

He pulls away with a little gasp, hovering over you as he glances down at your hips. “S-So, I just…” He trails off, watching as you reach down with one hand, grunting softly when you wrap your hand around his cock. 

Carefully, you position him at your entrance and angle your hips a little. “Go on, honey,” you encourage with a soft smile, running your other hand over his chest. 

Nodding once, he presses forward and swears he sees God. “F-Fucking hell,” he groans, loudly sighing your name as he carefully guides himself into you, absolutely in awe at the way your hot cunt grips him. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips resting firmly against yours as his chest heaves, breaths coming in short, sharp pants. 

You aren’t fairing much better, head spinning at the way he splits you open, pressing incessantly at each and every sensitive spot within you. You pant against his neck as he stills, pressed deeply within you. 

“D-Do… fuck, do I just…?” Michael stutters, giving half-hearted little thrusts to test the waters. 

“Yes!” You answer instantly, anxiously nodding up at him as your hips wiggle against the bedsheets, making him swear and shudder above you, “Just move, honey, do what feels good.” 

He groans again and gives a little nod before experimentally moving his hips again, pulling out more this time before pushing back in. “Shit,” he breathes above you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he grunts with each roll of his hips. 

You pant underneath him, spurring him on by pressing your feet against his backside, urging him to move faster and faster as the frilly lace from your socks tickles his pale skin. “You’re doing so, so good, oh, my God,” you breathe, your voice high-pitched and whimpery as you tangle your fingers in his hair again, knowing by now that it drives him crazy. 

Above you, Michael’s hips slowly but surely begin to stutter, his thrusts starting to peter out as his breathing picks up. “I’m —!”

“Wait!” You blurt suddenly, smiling wickedly as he comes to a screeching halt, pushing himself up enough to stare down at you with wild eyes, “I have an idea…” You tease with a little giggle. 

“W-What?” 

“You have a phone, yeah?” 

“…Yeah?”

“One that can, like, take video?” 

“Yes?” 

“Grab it,” you laugh, pushing him off of you with a laugh. He rolls his eyes with a smirk but does as you ask, clumsily pulling himself from your heat before stumbling over to where his khakis had landed. He shuffles about for a second before pulling a silver phone from the pocket of his trousers. 

“Now what?” He asks curiously, positioning himself back between your thighs, cock twitching meanly. 

“Film me.” 

“What?!” He gapes at you, brows creased. 

“Film me, honey,” you giggle, biting your lip conspiratorially, “For your little task, you need proof, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah, b-but I can just take your panties or something, I don’t —“

“Or you could bring back something better…” You smirk, shrugging your shoulders playfully, “We don’t have to but… it could be kinda hot?” 

He pauses for a moment, eyes flicking between you, your pussy, and the phone in his hand before he nods once, curtly. “We… we can try it.” 

“Yeah? You wanna?” 

“Yeah,” he quips, catching you by surprise as a mean little smirk spreads over his lips, “Wanna see the look on Catton’s face when he sees you creaming on my cock.” 

Your eyes widen and you huff out a shocked laugh, a zing of electricity lighting behind your eyes. “You’re insane,” you say softly, an endeared smile on your lips. 

He snickers, his whole demeanor seeming to change before your eyes as he transforms from this shy, stuttering boy into an astonishingly cocky man. “You like it, love,” he teases, grabbing his dick and positioning himself at your entrance yet again. 

“Wait!” You giggle again, blushing as he groans. 

“You don’t want to anymore?” 

“No, no, not that,” you assure him, affectionately running your hand down one of his shockingly muscular arms, “You can film me… on one condition.” 

“‘N what would that be?” 

“Take me on a date.” You breathe, suddenly shy. You know he’ll agree to it, but even still, your heart pumps wildly in your chest. 

He stares at you for a second, blinking dumbly as he processes your request. “You want me to take you on a date?” He asks, flushing so deeply that the soft pink hue cascades all the way down to his chest. 

Giggling, you nod your head, giving his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “You need to start giving yourself more credit, honey.” 

He sighs at that, a little astounded huff, before he’s suddenly grabbing at your calves and pushing your legs up toward your shoulders, all but bending you in half, anxious to get his cock back into you. You gasp at the movement, and chuckle at his eagerness, a sound that morphs into a whiny moan when he slides back home. 

“Christ,” he grunts, shoulders heaving as he gets used to the way you feel around him once more, “Y-You feel so good, love, fucking perfect.” 

“You’re so big,” you whine, nodding as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, “You’re so good, Michael, you have no idea.” 

He groans above you, hands shaking as he grabs for his phone, flipping it open and quickly opening the camera as his hips rut into you, making the springs of your bed creak softly. 

As soon as Michael gives you a little nod to let you know he’s filming, you truly put on a show — or well, you at least stop trying to quiet yourself down and be conscientious of the people in the rooms next to you. The way he has your legs bent back makes him feel somehow bigger and causes his cock to hit that sensitive spot within you with pinpoint accuracy every time he thrusts in, making you clench around him and moan loudly each time he moves his hips against you. 

You watch as he angles the camera down a bit, no doubt pointing it at the spot the two of you are joined together, letting the camera record his cock sliding in and out of you. When he moves it back up, however, to get your face as evidence, you plaster on the cheekiest grin you can muster. 

“H-Hi boys,” you tease breathlessly, smirking as you lean up on one elbow. You wave with your other hand before blowing a kiss to the camera, which makes Michael cockily laugh.

“Fuck, I gotta…” he mutters after a few more seconds, carelessly dropping his phone down on the bed before roughly grabbing at your thighs with a bruising grip, one that makes you mewl and arch your back toward him. The two of you moan and whimper in unison as he begins thrusting wildly, seemingly too worked up to care about anything but cumming. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant over and over, head spinning as he bullies your sweet spot. 

“That’s it, love,” Michael murmurs, his voice gruff and low as he stares down at you, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead; he looks wilder than you’ve ever seen him, the thought only serving to push you closer and closer to the edge. “S-Shit, that’s it. Fucking come for me, cream on my cock; please, please, please,” he murmurs, leaning down to press desperate kisses against your neck and collarbones. 

The new position causes his pubic bone to rub deliciously over your clit, making you seize beneath him with a loud whine. Your toes curl, heels still pressing into the small of his back. “M-Michael, holy fuck!” You practically squeal as your high finally washes over you once more, stars dancing behind your eyelids as you go lax and pliant underneath him. 

The feel of your walls pulsing around his cock has Michael reeling, his hips somehow thrusting even faster as he both desperately wants to cum while also never wanting this feeling to end. “C-Cum, honey, cum,” you pant softly, cupping his cheek with one hand and turning his face toward yours. 

That does him in and the rubber band in his belly viciously snaps, making him shudder above you as his thrusts come to a halt, cock twitching wildly inside you as he empties himself into the condom. You watch him in awe, taking in every detail from the way his nose scrunches up as his eyes squeeze close to the way he whispers your name over and over like a prayer. 

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, his breath warm against your neck as he slumps against you trying to catch his breath. 

Eventually, you can’t help it anymore and let out a breathless giggle, which only intensifies when he props himself up on an elbow to peer down at you with a smirk. 

“Something funny?” 

“Just,” you breathe, trying to calm yourself enough to get words out, “Just… wow,” you finally say, giggles petering out as you look up at him, the soft gleam in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. 

“Good wow?” He blushes, looking down between the two of you as he pulls himself from your walls with a little hiss. 

“Very, very good wow,” you confirm, grinning as you watch him pull off the condom before he peers up at you with a sheepish grin. “Tie it off, honey,” you instruct, smirking as he does just that, before nodding to the little wastebasket by your desk. 

He gets up with a groan and quickly tosses the condom in the trash before turning back to you, the bashful look on his face making you blush. 

Unable to resist, you grin at him and spread your arms with a giggle, wordlessly inviting him for a cuddle, which he gladly accepts. The bed creaks slightly as he lays back down, relaxing his head on the pillow just beside yours. Again, the two of you stay silent for a moment, content to merely gaze at one another, before he shyly looks away and sighs. 

“I…,” he starts, blue eyes blinking and flitting around your room as he gathers his thoughts, “Thank you,” he finally says, looking back at you with a little half smile. 

Your brows furrow at this as you grin at him. “What’re you thanking me for?” 

“Well, f-for… this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the two of you before sitting up just slightly and fishing around in the blankets for a second. “And this,” he sighs, holding his phone up before twisting around to set it on the corner of your desk, turning back to you. “I just… I know you didn’t have to, is all, so…” 

You cock your head to the side as you prop yourself up on an elbow, eyes narrowing as you study him closely. “And people have the nerve to say I’m thick,” you joke, lips spreading into a wide grin as you gaze down at him, “I wanted to do all this, Michael. I’m the one that came onto you, remember?” 

“W-Well, yeah, but —“

“No buts!” You laugh, pressing a finger against his lips as you shake your head, “I have eyes too, you know.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You haven’t been the only one watching someone for months,” you giggle shyly, pressing your forehead against his, “I meant what I said about that date, too.” 

His arms wind around your waist, holding you tight as he processes your words with a dumbstruck smile, blushing under your gaze. “Whatever you say, love,” he concedes finally, pressing his lips against yours sweetly. 

He yawns tiredly when he pulls away from you after a moment, which only makes you yawn as well, and you glance over at the little clock on your dresser. “Christ,” you gasp, turning back to him, “I didn’t realize it’s already almost four… you can crash here, if you want?” 

He considers it for a moment, knowing he has to be back in that stupid little basement by noon and making a mental map of where exactly your dormitory is in relation to the Merton College Chapel. “I… I can stay, yeah,” he finally nods after a moment. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Love, I’m not sure my legs work well enough yet to walk out of here anyway.” 

Michael

Groaning, Michael slowly blinks his eyes open, rubbing them softly as he sits up in bed with a yawn. Blindly reaching over for his glasses, he’s confused when he doesn’t feel them in their usual spot and finally opens his eyes properly. 

He stares, confused for a moment as to how exactly he somehow got transported into what appears to be Barbie’s damn dream house, before the events of last night come flooding back to him. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes when he turns his head and sees your still-sleeping form beneath your flowery sheets, your hair tousled wildly on the pillow as your shoulders rise and fall evenly still with each breath. Looking around, he finally spots his glasses and puts them on before reaching for his phone, and cursing again when he sees the time. 

11:47 AM. 

He practically falls out of your bed as he tries to extricate himself from the sheets, and he hears you wake with a start behind him as he grabs wildly at his clothes on the floor. 

“Michael?” You ask questioningly, your voice still hoarse from sleep as you, frankly fucking adorably, rub at your eyes before fixing him with a curious look. 

“Gotta, shit, gotta run,” he explains quickly, cursing as he nearly loses his balance trying to tug his trousers on, “Need to be at Merton Chapel in, like, Christ, ten minutes!” 

“Ohh,” you giggle softly, watching with amusement as he finishes getting dressed, hair and clothes so disheveled that he’s sure he looks like the very definition of the walk of shame. 

Just as he’s tugging his shoes on and making a mad dash for the door, you stop him. “Here,” you smirk, holding out the same lacy pair of pink panties you wore last night, “For proof,” you explain, nodding to the phone in his hand, “Along with that. Should be more than enough,” you giggle proudly. 

He smiled sheepishly as he pockets your underwear. “T-Thanks,” he nods, turning to leave before you stop him once more. 

He can’t help but blush when you lean in and press and quick kiss to his lips, your cherry chapstick rubbing off on him some. Pulling away, you playfully smack his chest with a little grin. “Go get ‘em, honey.” 

Nodding, he smiles again before finally pulling your door open and bounding down the hallway. “I’ll text you, love!” He calls, peering back just before he rounds a corner, “About that date!” 

It’s 11:58 on the dot when he flings the basement door open, only to be pulled over to the same stupid dank basement wall, his back hitting it once more with a dull thud. 

Glancing around, he sees the ski-masked boys again, all fifteen of them, standing in a row with the head boy slightly out of line. To his left stands one of the other initiates, clutching a black tube of some sort. 

The basement stays silent for a moment before one of the masked boy’s watch alarms goes off just as the bells in the tower begin to chime. 

Once, twice, all the way up to twelve. Noon.

Right on cue, the head boy steps forward even more and looks between Michael and the other initiate. “Your friend couldn’t be bothered to show his face, then?” He asks, dark eyes peering at the boy next to Michael. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, glaring at the head boy. “He’s still at the bank!” He snaps, “All the way in bloody Switzerland,” he kicks at the dirty stone floor as he explains, “Dickhead,” he finally mutters lowly under his breath. 

“Shame,” the head boy quips, clasping his hands in front of his waist, “Some men are simply not cut out for Bullingdon.” 

The boys in the row behind him nod knowingly, each making some little noise of affirmation until the head boy quickly stops them, holding a fist up by his head, bringing it back down to his side when they shut up. 

“So, initiates, what’ve you got?” 

The boy next to Michael steps forward first and hands the black tube to the head boy with a sigh. “There,” he says, gesturing to it, “There’s your bloody map. My mum could get sacked for that.” 

The head boy pops open one end of the tube, a document sleeve Michael now realizes, and gingerly extracts a rolled up piece of parchment from it, unrolling it just enough to confirm it's what they asked for. 

“Well done, initiate,” he nods, seemingly impressed as he flashes a smile at the boy, white teeth gleaming creepily through the slit in his ski mask. Carefully, he rolls the document up again before sliding it back in the tube, “Your commitment to Bullingdon will take you far. Welcome to the fray.” 

The boy stands still for a moment, eyeing the document tube with an almost regretful expression before curtly nodding and taking his place back against the wall. 

“And then there was one,” the head boy murmurs, dark faze fixed on Michael, “I seem to remember we gave you quite the… interesting task indeed, initiate. How did you manage?” 

Smiling damn near arrogantly, Michael all but skips up the head boy and proudly pulls your panties from his back pocket, letting them dangle from his index finger. “See for yourself.” 

The head boy grabs them by the edge and studies them for a moment, turning back to the row of boys behind him with a questioning glance. The boy Michael knows already to be that cunt, Oliver Quick, glances between him, the panties, and Michael, before cutting a sideways glance to a tall boy standing next to him. 

“These could be anyone’s,” the head boy says, turning back to Michael as he shakes his head, “You could’ve nicked them from your sister or something, we’ll need more than this, initiate.”

“Don’t even have a sister,” Michael quips, shrugging his shoulders with a little frown. 

“Okay, like, your cousin or something then –”

“Don’t have a female cousin,” he says with a shake of his head, “All boys.”

“The point still stands!” The head boy finally snaps, making Michael bite the inside of his cheek to hide a little laugh, though the corner of his lips still quirks up in a smirk, “You haven’t got any proof, do you? Is that why you’re stalling?”

Huffing a little laugh, Michael finally lets himself smirk meanly and steps closer to the head boy as he pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and navigates to his video gallery. “Is this enough proof?” He teases, pressing play on the most recent video. 

The picture is small and grainy but there’s no doubt as to what’s happening as the sound of your pretty whimpers and moans echoes around the brick basement, along with the wet smack of Michael’s cock driving into you again and again. 

The head boy stares at the screen still as curiosity gets to a few of the boys in the row behind him and they all come crowd around Michael’s phone, eyes widening behind their ski masks and mouths falling open. 

The tallest one, the one Oliver keeps glancing at, lets out a long sigh as he peers down at the small screen and brings a hand up to his head as if he were going to run it through his hair before remembering the mask he has on. With him this close, Michael finally notices the little silver barbell stuck through his eyebrow and shivers as his lips curl up into a sadistic Cheshire cat smile, a tidal wave of savage pride crashing through his system. 

Finally, fucking finally, I get something he wants, he thinks as your breathy moans continue to pour from the speaker of his phone, tinny and muffled in some spots where he’d accidentally covered the microphone, but beautiful, beautiful and because of him.

After a moment, the video ends, the tiny phone screen reverting back to it’s little thumbnail as the head boy peers up at Michael, the rest of the club members taking their places back in line, though he can’t help but notice that Felix’s broad shoulders are slumped now and Oliver stands ever closer to him, like some kind of fucked up bodyguard. 

“I’ll be damned, initiate,” the head boy sighs with a shake of his head, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

He watches as Michael merely nods and pockets his phone again, holding it tightly in his fist even still. After a second, he smiles widely and claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Welcome to Bullingdon.”

Some time later, Michael finally exits the basement, a few of the club members, sans ski masks now, nodding goodbye to him as they disperse across campus, meeting adjourned. 

He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from the initial meeting but it was mostly them prattling on about where exactly they had all their grubby little fingers, poked in seemingly every facet of society from Parliament to local newspapers. 

Braggy cunts, Michael thinks as he ambles outside, glancing up at the sky as he steps into the Mob Quad, surrounded by stony old buildings. 

Smiling to himself, he pulls out his phone and quickly finds your number in his contacts list, blushing when he sees you’ve taken the liberty of adding some girly heart emoticon next to it. He hardly has time to press it against his ear before you answer.

“Well?” You demand with that now familiar giggle, some unfamiliar pop song playing in the background.

“I’m in,” he confirms, nodding to himself as he slowly walks in the direction of his dormitory, “Thanks to you.” He smiles like an idiot when you laugh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey,” you tease, he can picture your bright, glossy smile in his head, “You earned that spot.”

Michael merely shakes his head with a happy little sigh. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “About that date… I was thinking the King’s Arms? Tonight at six, if that works?”

“Oooh, tonight at six,” you repeat teasingly, an image flashing in his mind of you twirling your hair around a perfectly manicured finger, “Someone’s quite eager, hm?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you giggle, pausing for a second, “It’s a date then.”

“Fantastic,” Michael sighs, trying with every fiber of his being to sound casual and cool about the whole thing, even as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“See you tonight, Mr. Bullingdon,” you tease, making a little kissy sound into the phone before hanging up. 

Michael pauses for a moment, standing to the side on the pavement as he nods to himself. If it weren’t so fucking cheesy, he’d raise his fist in the air, victorious, à la Judd Nelson at the end of The Breakfast Club. 

Instead, he flips his phone back open and navigates back to your video. Sighing, he stares at the little thumbnail for a second before deleting it, pocketing his phone once more, and continuing back to his dormitory. 

He has the real thing now.

taggled lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[midnight-mourning]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Or at least, happy spookvember! Unfortunately couldn't get this out on time like I wanted, BUT it's here now (or will be soon). I figured since the poll I made back at the end of September was so close, I'd just give you guys a bonus of a Halloween thing for funsies. So, if you haven't guessed it already:

click the read more please

YOU'RE GETTING ANOTHER ONESHOT!

in 24 hours, or less.

Let me explain

So, the promptober ended up being MUCH longer than I anticipated, and I think with how much that happened, y'all need to sit and digest it before i hit you smack in the face with another one. I also need time to write it and it's gonna end up being worked on today and tomorrow both. By the time you see this I will be back at it.

BUT KNOW THIS, it's on it's way, and it picks up right off where we left off in the promptober. It's going to be a much more light-hearted read as well.

So, KEEP THIS POST SAVED, as I'll update it with the one-shot once it's finished, as well as an ao3 link. I'll also post an update with the link so you'll hopefully be notified once it's here. SO, hope you enjoyed the first part, and be on the lookout for part two soon :)

IF YOURE SEEING THIS AND YOU HAVEN'T READ THIS STORY FIRST. DO SO. It's basically the set up for this one.

Okay, here's your story, hope you enjoy! Ended up being much longer than I anticipated but she's fun.

Borrowed Time

Word count: 5511

🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃

"Hurry up! We're gonna be late!" You hear your sister call from outside your room. 

You adjust your shirt collar once more, and double check the green paint covering any and all exposed skin on your body hasn't smeared. Though, you doubt it. Lisa made sure to completely cover you. Be that because she wanted your costume to look nice or simply because it was a ploy to make you miserable, who's to say?

You turn around, facing your brother who's sitting up on the bed, still looking very cute in his pumpkin costume. 

Your sister bursts into the room, "Let's goooo." She moans, marching over to you and starting to shove you towards the door with gloved hands.

"Hey, hey cool it Frankenstein. There's a baby on the bed that has to come with us."

You can't see her eyes through the goggles she's wearing, but her frown tells you she's not pleased. 

You turn to face her fully, "Lisa. We can't leave Gabe at home."

She groans, and starts trudging out of your room, "Fineeee, but hurry uuupp."

"Okaaayyyy," You say, and put your focus on your little brother. 

You put your hands on your hips, "Alright Gabriel, ready to go?"

He sneezes. 

"Good enough for me," You nod, scooping him up and heading downstairs. 

Your neighborhood was filled with people in their 60s or older, all retired types and the likes, with a few families with kids Lisa's age here and there. Meaning it was a gold mine for candy. You make your usual lap around the block, Lisa guiding you as you pull Gabe along in his wagon. 

As you return to your house, Lisa's bucket and the wagon having collected a good bit of candy, you reach down and snatch up a chocolate bar, snacking on it.

You decide you have to mess with her at least a little bit, "You sure you still want to go to the Plex? This is quite the haul, you know."

"Yes! You promised!"

You laugh, ruffling her already crazed hair, "Just making sure. Go dump your candy on the table while I strap Gabe in, yeah?"

She rushes off, and while you're putting your brother in the car and loading up the wagon your phone buzzes. 

It's Abby, 'Hey! You going to make it to the party tonight?

Gonna be super spooky~ :)

And there's a costume contest! Winner gets a sweet prize'

You text back as you start up your car, Lisa rushing back out the door to get in, 'I'll stop by for a bit, team's making me, but Lisa's foaming at the mouth to trick or treat this year and that's my priority'

'Yeah that'd be mine too if I was dealing with her

Thankfully mom and dad have Jack and I don't'

You walk up to your porch, double checking you left the candy bowl out and lock your front door.

'If I have to take a guess, she'll be exhausted by nine and I can drop 'em both off in the Daycare for a bit

but not for long, I wanna be in bed by 11 tonight'

'What are you, 30?'

You get in your car, ignoring Lisa's whining to get a move on, 'Hahahahahaha no.

Just slept bad during my nap earlier'

You pull out, heading to the Pizza Plex. When you arrived, the place is packed, you just manage to grab a parking spot. As soon as she's out of the car Lisa is heading for the entrance, and you have grab her so you can get Gabe out and situated in his wagon. 

Upon entering, you're actually quite impressed. You'd seen some staff setting up over the past few days, but now that all the decorations were up it really added to the wow factor. People milled about from place to place, all dressed up, and Halloween music played from speakers all across the atrium. 

You look down to your sister, "Alright, where do you wanna start first-aaand she's gone. Dang it, Lisa."

After a quick search you spy her at one of the many tables and booths set up. You give her a brief scolding but then continue on with your evening. 

By seven you're the one that's exhausted, you're pretty sure you've hit every spot once if not twice. Except for one, that is. 

You'd been saving the Daycare because it's where you'd wanted to end, but now you had no choice, Lisa had quite literally visited every trick or treating spot already, and played most of the carnival games. 

The doors are open, and inside you see kids running about playing games and such. Tending to a long line of trick or treaters is Mia and one of the other helpers. She's dressed as a werewolf, while the other helper-Carter maybe?-is dressed as a ghoul.

The former greets you as you approach, "Hey! Good to see you! Love your costume."

"Thank you, I made it for them," Lisa speaks for you, chest puffing with pride. 

Mia drops some candy into her bucket, "Well of course! Excellent work, Dr. Frankenstein. There's more candy and goodies inside if you'd like to take a peek."

Your sister turns to you, eyes wide. You nod, and she's rushing in, almost knocking over Carter in the process. 

You cringe as you watch after her, her maniacal laughter echoing in her wake. 

"Sorry about her," You say as you step to the side, pulling Gabe's wagon up to beside you.

Mia waves her hand, "No worries, but look at this cutie here!" She bends down to Gabe's level, "Hello Gabriel! You look very handsome this evening."

He giggles as she continues to fawn over him. In the meantime, you scan through the Daycare, looking for the bot you're pretty sure was the subject of your crazy dream earlier. 

He shows himself for you, suddenly appearing on the ground in front of a group of kids, who shriek from fear and delight. He raises to his full height slowly, using his cape to cover part of his face. 

His cape bursts open and he poses, hands up and fingers clawed. It causes the little group to scatter, laughing as they run away. 

As he straightens again, he suddenly pauses for a moment, his focus turning to you. His rays spin once or twice and you smirk, waving. 

Another pause, then, one hand to his chest, he bows low. Your phone buzzes as he rises again. 

'We need to talk.'

You frown, but then shake it off, 'Can't even compliment my costume first? Lisa spent like three hours getting me this green'

'It's, fine. Perhaps a bit tacky, but fine'

You have to hide your gasp as you look up to him, he's now busy with several kids,  'You know, there's a particular emoji I want to send you right now, but I won't because at least one of us has class

I hope that glitter glue stains your faceplate'

'You're simply jealous I look better than you, it sounds like'

You grit your teeth, 'When and where?'

'Ball pit. As soon as possible, preferably'

You glance back to see Mia still messing with Gabe, they're playing peek a boo.

"Hey, this is a weird ask, but could you watch Gabe for me for a second? I uh, need to go check on Lisa."

She gives you a thumb's up and a grin, "Of course! Here Gabe, you wanna help me pass out candy?"

With that taken care of, you head off into the chaos of the Daycare. 

Dodging running kids, you do spy your sister among them, viciously trying to win a game with donuts on a string. Her snapping teeth and general, aggressive, energy does make you question for a moment how much sugar she's had already.

You shrug it off, she's probably fine.

Another group of kids running giggling from Sun by the ball pit, but his demeanor shifts as soon as he sees you. Standing tall, maybe even irritated. 

"Well? What's so important it can't wait until say, tomorrow?"

Sun's hands smooth out his shirt, "Something's going on with Fazerblast."

"Yeah, trust me I'm well aware," You scoff and shake your head, "Been working on it for days with no luck, why do you care?"

His eyes narrow, "Because it's an opportunity, Bright Eyes. Surely you see that."

"Opportunity? For what-Oh no. No, no, no, you are not doing this to me tonight."

He clasps his hands together, bending so you're eye to eye, "When would you like me to remind you then, Sunshine? When the attraction and, surrounding areas, are functional again and we're able to do nothing?"

You're mad. Because you know he's right. You hate it when he's right. Much less admit to it. 

The glitches that've been occurring have been, concerning, to say the least. The map bots have been going haywire after using the charging stations, the music that plays throughout becoming warped, distorted. Certain walls and such shifting randomly, in some cases trapping kids in boxed out sections, to the concern of angry parents. 

Not to mention that the guns have also been malfunctioning, misfiring and in some cases, shocking participants when fired. Both the wielder and their target, which should not be happening. And that’s on top of the power outages.

Sun leans closer, voice low, "I believe you are as aware as I regarding a certain, threat, looming in this building. Surely you don't doubt that they may see tonight as as much an opportunity, right?"

You feel your eyes widen a tinge, "You think, you know who, is behind it? Why?"

"It's not her typical method, but it's the only logical conclusion I can come to," His rays spin, "And I'd rather interfere now before it grows worse."

"Mister Sun! What are you two talking 'bout?"

You both jump, looking down and seeing a couple curious kids.

Sun goes into action immediately, taking your hand and spinning you into a dip, "I'm persuading them to join my legion of the undead for all eternity, and if you aren't careful, I'll get you too!"

That does the trick, they run off giggling and chattering. You're still in his arms when you speak up.

"What was that."

He seems to realize he's still holding you, setting you upright and brushing his hands off on his pants, "Acting. Try not to think too hard on it, wouldn't want to damage that brain you're borrowing."

You scoff, "Ha ha. Anyway, since when do you care about other people? I don't see how you're set to gain anything from figuring this out."

"It's not 'people', that I'm worried about, Bright Eyes. Freddy is supposed to be hosting a game of laser tag later tonight and I fear-" He stops himself, looking away. 

You're surprised, but stick to just a simple tease, "Aw, you care about your friends, how sweet. Fine, I'm in. But you better have a strategy for getting out of here without being noticed."

"I think the opportunity may present itself sooner than anticipated," You see he's looking behind you.

The kids from before are back, and have brought many friends, garnering a small crowd. You spot Lisa among them, hands on her hips and angry pout on her lips. 

She takes charge, pointing, "Hey! The only one that gets to boss them around is me."

Once again, you don't get to react. 

Sun laughs darkly, shifting to stand behind you and taking you by the shoulders. He bends so his head is by your ear, taking surprising care to ensure you don't get poked by his rays. 

You glance up and see the wire lower from the ceiling slowly, "I'm afraid you're too late, Dr. They've fallen into my clutches and I won't be letting go so easily. They're mine now, and I'll be whisking them away to live in my castle, forever!"

Suddenly, you're in the air, Sun holding you firmly around the waist to ensure you don't fall. 

"But, as compensation for your loss," He opens his cloak and candy falls to the ground where you'd been standing, "Please accept this gracious exchange."

To your sister's credit, she seems to considered the offer for a moment before, "I suppose this suffices, very well," And she has the audacity to wave her hand.

Your mouth is agape in shock as you're carried over to the balcony outside the Daycare Attendant's room, "Lisa!"

"He had skittles! That's too good to pass up!" She shouts back, already digging through the candy with the other kids.

Sun sets you both down on the balcony shortly thereafter, and ushers you inside.

"And what was that?" You look up to him, only for his hands to cover your eyes.

"Still acting~ Now, no peeking. I don't need you invading my privacy."

"But you're the one who brought me up here!" You protest. No fair. You didn't even get a single glance around the room.

He scoffs lightly, "Semantics, Sunbeam. Start walking."

If you were in a worse mood you'd have ignore the demand. But, you want to get this over with as quick as possible. You feel bad just leaving your siblings in the care of the helpers without any notice, and you'd also like to actually enjoy Halloween a bit instead of doing what you do every day. 

You hear a door open and shut, and the hands are removed. It's still dark however, and turning you see the other Attendant is standing behind you.

"How do you manage to completely change your outfit?" You nod to the lack of shirt and cloak. 

His faceplate spins, "Trade secret."

"Fair enough, how's your Halloween going? Besides this I mean," You start walking down the hall to the theater, where you hear a Halloween movie playing.

He walks beside you, passing out a candy or two to the kids who notice you pass, "Delightful. I rather enjoy holidays when they're open to the public. Thought a day off is nice every so often."

"Tell me about it, I'm glad we decided to take a half-day today."

You reach the door and Moon bids you farewell, "Good luck, and try not to be too hasty, Icarus."

"No promises," You wink and start to walk out of the theater, only to pause and spin around to watch the transformation but, "Oh come on! That was way too quick."

Sun adjust the collar of his shirt, "You have better things to be worrying about, let's get going now, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me twice."

You set off, walking through the busy Plex to Fazerblast. It's actually easier than you expected. No one questions why you and the Attendant are together, which is a nice change of pace from always being concerned about being caught. With the added factor and chaos of Halloween, it's no trouble, save for a few kids wanting pictures and candy. 

You run into Chica along the way, she's dressed up as Roxanne. While the chat is cheerful, it's also useful in confirming that yes, Freddy will be hosting a Halloween tournament in the next twenty minutes. It also confirms your fears. 

"I feel so bad for him! He's been practicing so much, even choosing to charge over there as opposed to his room the past few nights," Chica sighs, "And yet, he seems so tired, kind of out of it, you know? Not to mention his laser gun keeps causing problems..."

Sun and yourself share a glance but say nothing.

Chica waves her hand, "Well, don't let me keep you anymore, have fun you two!" She shoots a wink and a finger gun your wave and you look away, embarrassed.

As you walk off Sun questions it, "What was that about?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it," You shake your head, coughing, then notice how he's paused, optics dim, "What?"

His eyes brighten again, but his tone is grim, "Freddy's not responding over the FECN. And after discussing with the rabbit, he apparently hasn't for over an hour."

"I'm guessing that's not normal?" 

Sun shakes his head slowly.

You curse under your breath, "Come on, we're almost there and now we know we don't have any time to spare-"

Your hand is grabbed by someone, Abby you realize, "There you are! Come on, we just watched Pete dunk Jesse's head in the apple tank and now they're fighting."

"It was so funny, Bri's trying to break them up but I don't think it's going well," Savannah puts her hand on your shoulder, also guiding you along.

You glance back in time to see Sun get pat on the back by Liv as she follows after you three, grabbing the bot's arm, "You should join too! Come on!"

Your eyes meet Sun's and you think you share the same, slightly panicked look. You don't have time for the party. Knowing what you do about Freddy there's no telling what's going to happen at this tournament.

But you can't think of an excuse as an easy out and thus, you have no choice but to join in the festivities and look for a chance to escape in the meantime.

Thankfully, Sun seems to think the same way, not resisting as the two of you are paraded into the west arcade. 

The music's booming, people are chatting excitedly, and laughter is heard every so often. The decorations here are just are spooky as those throughout the Plex, cobwebs and bats and pumpkins hanging off railings and the ceiling and so on. 

Sure enough, you spy a soaking wet Jesse and Pete sitting across from each other by the stage. Tyler meanwhile, is chomping on an apple while leaning back against the stage, you see it’s one of several. He shoots you a ‘hang loose’ upon seeing you.

Bri is standing over the pair on the ground and appears to be scolding them. She perks up when she sees you arrive though.

"Well look what the cat dragged in!" She grins, giving you a brief hug, "And Sun! You look great!"

He mutters a quiet thank you as she continues to chat with him. Meanwhile you scan your surroundings for any kind of distraction to you get out of here.

"Looking for something?" Pete asks from below you, drawing you out of your worried thoughts. 

You glance down to him, "Just observing. What's the deal with you two and water?" You gesture between him and Jesse.

The later stops rubbing his hair with a pumpkin towel, "Pete thinks if he waterboards me it proves he's right."

"That is not true, you started it! He said my costume wasn't good," He looks to the other man on the ground, sneering "Which, by the way, yours is shit."

Jesse throws up his hands, half-dried cloth flailing in the air, "You're the one who picked it out for me, and did my makeup!"

They start bickering and Savannah comes up beside you again, shaking her head, "Ignore them, they're especially annoying tonight because they're both drinking."

"Not surprising."

She pats your shoulder, "Hey, I know it's a party and I really don't want to talk shop, but, I had a breakthrough with the trigger pins."

"Oh? I'm listening," You can't leave currently, might as well find a way to pass the time. 

"I snagged one of the faulty guns and just, took it apart to see what I could find, you know, quality engineer brain," She takes a sip of her drink, "And there's nothing wrong with it. The triggers are fine. It's a software issue, got to be."

Your eyes widen slightly, and it occurs to you what situation you might have on your hands here. 

Unfortunately, the lights cut before you can react. The emergency lights come on soon thereafter however, so the room's only in relative darkness. People seem slightly alarmed, but once someone boots up a generator and the music starts again, they settle. 

You hear a couple whistles behind you, and several compliments. 

"Woah! That transition was slick, and your costume looks great!"

A quiet, shy laugh, and, "Thank you, Officer Perry."

You turn, finding Moon standing in Sun's place. And, yet again, you've missed the change in costumes. Damn. 

But, you know a chance when it's put in front of you like this, and checking the time you see you've got a little under ten minutes. 

You walk over to the bot who's still getting many compliments and take his hand, looking up to him, "Come with me to get a drink."

He nods, and giving a wave to your friends, you head off. 

"I don't believe this is the time for beverages, Pandora."

When you get far enough away you stop, turning to him, "I know. Just needed an excuse. Hopefully they'll buy it." You realize you're still holding his hand and quickly let it go, mumbling an apology.

You notice he seems on edge.

"What's wrong now?" You're almost afraid to ask.

"Freddy has been, removed, from the FECN."

"But the last time something like that happened-" You stop, swallowing your fear, "How fast can you get down there?"

Moon chuckles, "Depends on how much you trust me, Diana. And how strong your grip is."

You find out what he means as you're rushing through the rafters and the halls and over balconies to get to the laser tag area. You hold on for dear life, only able to hear the whooshing of air as Moon carries you.

"You're quicker than I thought!" You say over the noise.

You feel his chuckle more than hear it, "Is that a compliment?"

"You can take it as one, how's that?" You squeak and huddle closer to him when you drop from one railing to another.

"Still bitter about my costume change?"

You take the provided distraction, "You're hiding a modern engineering feat from me on purpose. That's cruel. Something I'd expect Sun to do to me, not you, Moon-man."

"You think so highly of me," He beams, "I'll keep that in mind for future use."

The conversation helps ease you a little. You don't think he would drop you, intentionally or unintentionally, but his secure hold along with teasing words offers you a bit of comfort as you worry over what you'll find once you arrive at Fazerblast. 

When you arrive in the staff hallway, it's as dark as anywhere else, only emergency lights being the way to see. It's enough, however, for Sun to reappear. 

"Still no sign of him?" You ask as you walk over to the door. 

You hear a click or two, "No, not yet-"

Suddenly, before you can get out your keycard you're pressed back into the door, Sun's body covering yours as he uses a hand to shield you. 

"What?"

His tone is low, pointed, "We're not alone."

You peek through the gap between his other arm and the wall. Sure enough, under one of the red lights down the hall, there stands a figure. You think it must be Rabbit Lady. Though, she looks different. 

Covered in shadow, it's hard to make out her features, but her build looks much bulkier than usual. More like Bonnie. It's decrepit as well.

Gaps in her costume that look like they've been torn away, small strands of something poking out at odd angles in spots. Her eyes are two small, purple pupils which stare you down. 

A sound from the opposite end of the hall, you both turn to see another shadowed individual standing at the edge of the light. This one, you don't know who, or what they are. Also bulky, but more human in stature. One of their hands is a giant claw though, and their pigtails look like they're made of thick cables and not hair. Their pupils are green.

There's a smell of smoke in the air. But it's, faded.

"Unlock the door," Sun mutters.

 You nod shakily and fumble in your pocket for the keycard. No movement from anyone. You slowly start to raise the keycard by your side.

There's a noise from down the hall. Rabbit lady-that has to her right? what who else could it be?-has taken a step forward. A sound from the other side of the hall. Pigtails has also taken a step.

In a moment's hesitation, you drop your keys and they clatter to the floor. 

"Shit-"

Both figures start rushing towards you and you fumble to snatch up your keys in time. Just as you grab them Sun takes hold of you to shelter you. You hear both of them rush closer and realize it's too late.

You squeeze your eyes shut when there's a loud noise of something booting up. Opening your eyes, you find the lights are back on, and the figures are gone. Like they were never there in the first place. Like,

"Ghosts..." You whisper. 

Sum murmurs in agreement at first, then shakes his head.

"Ghosts aren't real." He states, releasing you.

"Okay then how do you explain that?" You motion to how the hallway is completely empty save for the two of you.

His rays click, "I can't. But we don't have time for this, hurry now, before it's too late."

You huff, but nod, unlocking the door and rushing inside. 

Fazerblast is up and running, and you spy everyone gathered around in the center of the arena. The contest hasn’t started yet. More importantly you spy,

"Freddy!" You rush over, Sun in tow. 

He turns to face you both, zombie costume doing nothing to hide his friendly demeanor, "Hello Y/N! Hello Sun! What are you both doing here? Have you come to join laser tag?"

"I, you, you're okay?" You're slightly out of breath, and confused. Very confused. 

His brows furrow, "Well of course, should I not be?"

"Friend, you're not on the FECN," Sun steps forward and puts his hand on the shorter bot's shoulder, "No one could contact you, we were all so worried!"

Freddy's eyes widen, "Ah, I forgot! Lizzy removed my access for the time being to save my battery for the competition! It will be restored once it is over."

You feel a bit relieved, and you can tell by how Sun's posture relaxes he does too. But still, you need clarification.

"Chica said you haven't been yourself lately, would that be why?"

The bear looks down, hand coming up to scratch his neck, "I... have not been charging properly the past few days due to improper power flow to the charging station. I was so focused on preparing that I did not realize I wasn't getting enough rest until they informed me of the issue. I am sorry for making you all worry."

"No trouble at all, Friend!" Sun steps back to stand beside you, "We're just glad you're alright!"

Sometimes you forget how nice he can be. Your eyes a squint as he puts a hand on your shoulder. But then you snap out of it and shake your head, turning back to the bear in front of you.

"So wait, would that be what caused the issues with the staff bots? Just faulty charging stations?" The fact that it's not related to the previous issues, that it's not even a glitch, has you relieved.

"Not quite."

You turn, and see Lizzy standing there, holding something covered by a white cloth. Their hair is manic, and they're covered in cobwebs and grime from head to toe. You cringe, at least they're wearing coveralls. 

They approach, "Figured out the source of all our issues. Want to take a guess?"

"Have anything to do with that there?" You nod to the white sheet. 

"Oh yeah."

They remove the sheet, revealing a cage filled with-

"Mice?" You and Sun both question. 

Lizzy looks ready to lose their mind, "Yup. I know. Turns out, there's a crawlspace behind where all the machinery is for this place and these little guys," They lift the cage, "Decided to make it their home. Then when they got tired of that, they thought that the generators running Fazerblast would make for a great sub-division to their mousey-neighborhood. You have no idea the number of mice nests I've cleared out of there. Not to mention the number of wires I'm going to have to finish replacing that they chewed through."

"So, it's not related to the mechanics, or the software at all," You say in awe, "Just the power, and some mice."

"And some mice," Lizzy repeats, sighing, "So, so many mice."

You look up to Sun, he looks down to you.

"Huh." "Huh."

You're half out of it when you stumble back into the party upstairs. You brought the Attendant with you because, well you don't really know but you're both here now.

You find your friends in front of the stage, who greet you as you arrive. 

"Long time for a drink," Bri quips, "You get lost?"

You laugh weakly, "Something like that."

"You're just in time for the contest results!" Liv exclaims before turning back to the stage.

You sigh, leaning back onto the bot behind you, not caring if it bothers him, "Oh goody."

Sun huffs, but allows you to stay leaning against him while Abby gives her brief spiel on stage before announcing the runner ups and then the winners.

"And in second place, in a surprise entry, but with many votes, we have the Daycare Attendant! Congratulations, Sun!"

People start cheering and clapping and you stand straight, shocked.

"You're joking."

Abby speaks up again, "And in third place, with their killer Frankenstein's monster costume, Y/N!"

"You're joking."

Sun snickers quietly behind you as the two of you are ushered onto the stage beside your friend. You do your best to hide your complete and utter disbelief and frustration.

You're handed a sack of chocolate coins, you're too mad to pay attention to what Sun's prize is. His head is held high, waving and posing and it makes you want to throttle him.

Abby clears he throat, "But of course, we still have first place, which goes to, none other than the other Daycare Attendant, Moon!"

"What."

You bust out laughing, and continue to do so as the lights dim to only a few blue and purple ones remaining, allowing the Naptime Attendant to claim his prize. After the ups and downs of tonight, you'd consider this a pretty good way to end it.

"So," You pop another chocolate coin in your mouth, "You don't think those were ghosts?"

You're sitting on the floor of the Daycare, an hour or so later. Halloween night isn't over yet, but it's starting to wind down. A few straggling kids run through the Daycare here and there, and Mia and Carter are finishing out with the trick or treaters. 

Your sister is asleep, laying partly in your lap. Gabe is still awake, but his eyes are drooping as he plays blocks with Sun. 

The Attendant looks up from his task, scoffing, "Don't be ridiculous, of course they weren't."

"Okay, well we aren't in a panic situation anymore, so give me an explanation."

His rays spin, staring at you, then glances back down to your brother, "I don't have one."

"Ha!"

"Yet. There's a logical explanation to what we saw, I'm sure of it." He shakes his head a smidge, muttering, "There must be..."

You crumple the gold wrapper in your hand, flicking it so it hits square in the middle of his faceplate, "Well, we thought Rabbit Lady was causing the glitches, and it was just a couple of mice, so I guess anything is possible."

He nods. Then, reaches behind him, holding out two items stacked on top of each other. A folded up t-shirt, and a mug. The second and first place prizes for the costume contest, respectively.

"Here. These are useless to us. You should have them."

You're, incredibly surprised.

"I, wouldn't you want to give them to someone like Bri? Or maybe one of the kids?" Sure it was just silly prizes, but still. It's, kind of flattering? You don’t know how to feel, really.

Sun shakes his head, urging you to grab the items, "You're the only one that makes sense. Take them before I change my mind on the shirt."

"Okay, okay," You do, and after maneuvering around your sleeping sister, switch out your coat and undershirt for the orange t-shirt. It has print on it for 'Fazbear Frights'. You forgot that attraction even existed until you saw the shirt.

You finish putting it on and fix your hair, "Well?" 

Sun stares down at you, rays clicking. You raise a brow. 

"You know, I think it probably would look better on me."

You gasp, and he snickers, narrowly dodging your hand as you swat at him, before hitting him with more crumpled wrappers that were laying around, ignoring his complaints about needing to 'clean up'. 

All in all, not a bad Halloween. 

Maybe, just maybe, one of the best.

Maybe.

🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃☀️🎃🌙🎃

And there you have it, my written spooky month content is done! I have to finish my trick or treat asks, but that'll be it. Though, there is of course, the OTHER things on the spookvember schedule, wonder what they could possibly be referrring to?? 🤔🤔

Ah, you'll find out soon enough, thanks for reading!!

Also, before I go, THE GHOSTS ARE JUST GHOSTS AND HAVE NO DEEPER MEANING IN RELATION TO CONFUSED SPIRIT, they're just here to add to the suspense and the spookiness I promise

on another note totally DONT read into that pause from Sun

[apolsup]

So uhh I finally decided to watch the new clone high season... it was as bad as you would think

But it wasn't a total Joan like the last one so that's a win I guess. Anyways you know the rest, this is an art post so I'll talk a bit about my new favorite ship and then y'know the usual (skip to the end if ya don't want to read my very short silly opinions on it)

Spoilers if it wasn't obvious‼️‼️‼️

Sooooo joanfucius, I wasn't expecting it that's for sure but I wasn't expecting khalopatra to break up as well so I guess we all got surprised. Uhhh, I think Joan x Confucius is actually kinda cool! I genuinely like them and I'm (sadly) already attached so I know I'll suffer when they break them up in favor of joanabe in the end (literally, who even likes them??? No offense if there are actual joanabe shippers out there, love y'all but seriously, it should stay fanon because... Yikes)

They're made up of like- all of my favorite tropes ESPECIALLY the fake dating one like AHHHHH so why wouldn't I love them?? I was kinda bummed that it didn't last that long BUT that's what fanfiction is for, right? (What? Noooo I definitely don't plan on making a fanfic about them making their fake dating part longer pshhh)

Joanfucius for the win I love them, they're my absolute favorite sillies now (well, Joanfk still has my heart but y'know) so I've been working at the speed of light and I have a few drawings of them on the making!

It's a redraw of this scene because it was amazing and made my brain go RAAAAAAHHSHDHWJJDDJJ :3

I love joanfucius so much already I just know it'll hurt like a bitch when they break up 🤕

Btw JFK and Harriet was an awful idea I hope they break up because WOW they have 0 chemistry, it should have been JFK and Abe 😔

[missvelvetsstuff]

Fandom leap

Chapter 6

Winter Soldier x Reader

Notes: Here is my contribution to the Fandom Leap collaboration, my first. I'm excited and a bit nervous about posting this after reading those who came before me. I hope I can live up to the standard they have set.

Thank you to @supraveng for letting me take part in this very cool idea.

Hope y'all like it.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

Check out the full story.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 5

*Last* You sigh as you soak in this moment, this feeling in your heart, the smell of Sam and the feeling of his hands gripping onto your hips. Just as quickly as all of those feelings went through you, they all went away and that eerie familiar feeling rose up on your throat.

No, not now. Please, not now! And before your head could wrap around what was going on, you were torn away from Sam but his presence still lingered on your skin*

You shook your head and groaned, the leaps seemed to be taking more of a toll each time.

You were sitting on the bed in a dark bedroom but could hear sounds in the house, music and talking, like a party. You sat up and looked around, unable to see much with just the sliver of light from under the door. It was a nice room, not too fancy but clean with solid wood furniture and crisp bedding.

A half opened door led to a bathroom and there was another door you figured was a closet. You looked down at yourself and realized you needed some clothes as yours were dirty and ragged.

You got up and went into the bathroom to take a quick shower to keep from drawing attention to yourself. The hot water definitely helped clear your head some.

You found a single, white dress alone in the closet, that fit you well but was an older style, maybe 60's and some white flats. You hurried to fix your hair and when you were satisfied moved towards the door with the light underneath.

You grabbed the doorknob and took a deep breath before carefully opening the door and stepping into a lit hallway. You followed the sounds, noting how dated and campy the orange, green and yellow decor was before stepping into a loud room full of people, also looking dated and campy. Beehive hair, brightly colored dresses and men with skinny neck ties. You chuckled at the idea of happening into some theme party but the more you looked around and heard bits of conversations you considered the possibility of jumping to yet another era. The talk of the space race and Frank Sinatra solidifying that idea.

You looked around, walking carefully through the groups of people, mostly all male or all female. No one seemed to be surprised at your appearance, simply nodding at you before returning to their conversations. A couple gave you small smiles but their eyes were all empty.

You noticed a small group speaking another language, it sounded Russian but you couldn't decipher anything they said until one man looked towards the back of the house and whispered one word.

"Soldat"

You turned in the direction he was looking but couldn't see anything from your vantage point. Before you could try to speak to anyone the chatter stilled and the record playing scratched and landed on a different song. Then the gunfire started and you froze for a moment before bolting back down the hall to go out the window of the bedroom you had started in.  When you realized the window was barred you tried to think calmly but the gunfire stopped and heavy footsteps came closer and stopped at the bedroom door which slammed open.

You froze, holding your breath until you saw the Winter Soldier taking up the doorway. A whispered "Bucky" left your lips before you could stop it.

He looked at you coldly "Who's Bucky?"

You shivered, hoping you could reach him somehow because you were obviously no match for him and forced a soft smile "You are. James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky to your friends."

He shook his head "I have no friends"

Your smile turned sad "I know it doesn't seem like it but you do."

"No, no friends, no family. Only missions. You are my mission. The girl in the white dress."

Your stomach dropped and your breath caught as you shook your head quickly

"No. No. Please, I'm not supposed to be here. I woke up in this room but I'm not part of whatever they were doing. I just threw on the only dress in the closet." you waved vaguely towards the party which was quiet except the music was still playing.

"Where are you supposed to be?" He cocked his head, eyes puzzled but softer.

"I'm from" you stammered "It's, it's really complicated and unbelievable."

Your heart thumped out of your chest and you wished you could do something for him during whatever time you had here, try to ease some of his suffering.

There was also some hope since he hadn't killed you yet. You looked him over and decided to change the subject

"You're hurt. We should get out of here. Is there a safe house nearby? I could clean that cut on your arm."

He shrugged "I'll be fine. Follow me."

You struggled to follow him through the house, trying to avoid the bodies without actually looking at them. The smell was already making you queasy and you were relieved when you made it outside. Until you felt the chill and saw snow on the ground. You weren't dressed for this.

He turned around to grab your arm "Hurry up or I'll have to kill you."

Then mounted a motorcycle and looked at you expectantly. You really weren't dressed for that.

You looked down at your dress, not thrilled with wearing it on the back of a motorcycle, much less in this cold but there weren't any other choices so you held the skirt down the best you could and climbed on behind him. He gave you his helmet and you barely had time to secure it and grab onto him before he peeled away from the house.

You looked around while he drove, trying to keep your mind off the cold. You were in the middle of nowhere with buildings here and there but mostly snowy trees and hills. The view didn't change until he slowed down and pulled onto a dirt road, driving awhile longer before stopping in front of a small cabin.

When he turned the motorcycle off you struggled off of the bike with aching cold arms and legs then removed the helmet, offering it to him. He just grunted and headed into the cabin so you followed him quietly and as quickly as you could move.

The interior wasn't any fancier than the exterior but it was warm and dry after the back of a bike at night in a dress. One room, single bed in the corner, wood stove with a small sink next to it, counter with a pair of barstools.

Bucky quickly made a fire while you looked for a first aid kit. When you found it in the tiny bathroom you asked him to sit so you could sew up his arm.

He shook his head "I can do it, I don't need any help."

You smiled at him "I'm sure you can but I want to help. To thank you for getting me out of there."

He frowned "But that's-"

You placed a finger over his mouth "Please? I want to help you."

He shrugged and grunted as he took off his tactical suit leaving him in a tank top and briefs. He sat heavily on one of the stools, waiting.

You carefully cleaned the cut on his bicep, trying not to hurt him. He flinched when you wiped it with antiseptic and clenched his jaw as you carefully stitched it together. As soon as you finished stitching and started cleaning up the mess he jerked away from you and went into the bathroom. You heard him start the shower.

You put the first aid kit away and went to the kitchen area after your stomach growled, looking for something to quiet it.  You found a couple of cans of stew and a pot to warm them in but no can opener anywhere.

As you looked all over the kitchen for a can opener and tried to figure out how to open the cans, Bucky came up behind you, reached around with one of his knives and cut both cans open. Your heart stopped while you waited to see what he was doing with the knife. Then it raced at how smoothly he moved with it, that was pretty hot.

You emptied the cans into a small metal pot and warmed the food up then poured half each into two bowls you had washed. Adding spoons you offered one of the bowls to him.

As you ate he stared at you, contemplatively. You started feeling uncomfortable but before you could say anything he spoke up.

"Tell me your unbelievable story."

You shook your head "It's pretty out there. You'll think I'm nuts."

"I've seen some pretty crazy things so try me."

You could tell he wasn't really asking anymore and sighed "I'm from an alternate universe. Apparently there are many realities and for some reason I've been shifting from one to another for the last few days. I've been to realities that are fiction in mine."

He looked at you skeptically "so I'm supposed to believe that you just shifted into that room? And just happened to be wearing the only white dress in the entire party?"

She shrugged "I told you it was unbelievable but it's the truth. Who was the woman in the white dress supposed to be?"

Bucky sighed "My mission. They don't give me much in the way of details. Sometimes there's a picture or description but this time all I got was the woman in white. That's you."

She nodded "Ok, I get it. What are you supposed to do with me?"

He shrugged again "Dunno. The mission was, eliminate the partygoers, get the girl in the white dress and bring her to the safe house. Here."

He ate a few more bites before speaking again.

"What do you mean about realities that are fiction in yours?"

Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out how to explain "Well, where I'm from the Winter Soldier is from a comic book about super heroes. We don't have enhanced people or anything."

He was silent again as he finished his food. He stood up, took your empty bowl and tossed them into the sink. "You need some rest"

"Wait, what's going to happen to me? I don't want to wait around to become some Hydra prisoner. I need to get out of here."

He scoffed "Where will you go? You'll freeze out there dressed like that. I don't have any choice. You're my mission and aren't going anywhere so go lay on the bed and rest."

You stood there motionless trying to calculate an escape but you knew it was hopeless and slumped over in defeat as he pushed you towards the bed.

You took your shoes off and sat on the bed, it was small and lumpy but he stood over you so you couldn't get up. With a sigh you lay down and tried to get comfortable.

Bucky sat on the side of the bed and looked at you expectantly.

You stared back "What?"

"Could you make some room for me? I would like some rest too."

Your heart sped up "But wait you want to...here....with me? But I-"

"Shut up and move over"

He laid down, facing you and you fidgeted, trying not to touch him on the narrow bed but it was impossible.

He sighed again "Jesus Christ, just relax I'm not going to hurt you."

He pulled a scratchy blanket up to your shoulders, wrapped his arm around you and pulled you flush against him so you were chest to chest. He smelled so good, fresh like outside with a hint of musk and was so warm.

You started to relax into him and right before you fell asleep felt him kiss your forehead and whisper "I'm sorry."

It seemed like only a few minutes later when you were shocked awake by a rush of cold air and a bright light. You covered your face with your arm and felt your heart freeze when you heard that voice.

"Well miss, seems like you might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time

Unfortunately for you, I don't have the time to figure out what happened so you will have to do." It sounded like Arnim Zola, which meant you were in big trouble.

Bucky just sat there, wanting to protect you but knowing what will happen if he tried.

Rough arms pulled you away from him and handcuffed your wrists behind your back. You turned to look at Bucky, to show him you would be alright, and were gripped by the sadness and regret in his eyes. You saw tears fill them, like they had yours, and forced a sad smile before you were turned away from him.

As you were pulled to standing, for the first time since this all started, you were relieved to feel a shift coming on.

@supraveng @potterhead2207 @jamneuromain @herdreamywasteland @vibraniumarm06-bucket @imyourbratzdoll @swiftlymoniquesblog @rosedpetal @crazyunsexycool @nickfowlerrr @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

Chapter 7

[adiosterror]

Another quick ramble about Homestuck Ultimate Tiers because my friends brought up a very interesting theory!

The theory is essentially that some aspects have their ultimates being so powerful that a human body can't comprehend it, such as Rosebot and Davebot. Light and Time are far too powerful of aspects to where if you fully realize your ultimate tier in a human body, you can straight up just die. Which is why they were put into robot bodies, so they can handle their Ultimate selves.

Dirk on the other hand is an aspect all about the self, so it seems to me like an easy aspect to comprehend. He's the most powerful self he can be, which is still himself, hence, his fleshy body can hold Ultimate Heart just fine.

Now here's where you know this is a post I made.

What about Ultimate Breath? What about an Ultimate HEIR of Breath??? I saw a post in the john tags today with a new Ult John design of him being robotic, which reminded me of this convo that me and my friends had.

Him being robotic as well makes sense to me, his aspect holds itself physically like Rose's would. Dave can't be comprehended due to literally being time and Rose would probably just explode. John? If you ask me, I think he would literally just vanish if he kept in a human form.

As an Ultimate, his Breath would be so vast and incomprehensibly huge that it couldn't be compacted enough to create a physical form. He would become not just the wind, but ALL wind and probably all sources of air or just negative space in general. So, having a robotic body too would probably make sense if he wanted to keep a physical body.

I love the idea of omnipresent Ultimates,,, I mean, Dirk's already got it down, but I think John or Jade being ultimates would be super cool,,, they're literally everywhere all the time

Let me know y'alls thoughts on this, i'm interested

[torithehoshi]

CCCC Digital Doodle Dump - Oct 2023

Right - bear with me. Due to the sheer amount of digital doodles I have (and yes, I am emphasizing digital for a reason) and the amount of thoughts I have didn't make posting them separately feel right so I'm trying a different format for this.

The TLDR is, I had a lot of fun drawing CCCC related things last month. And y'all may as well be prepared for the long-run with me. My main goal was to get used to drawing HMS in my style (mostly hair and little design things based on my interpretations) and it's still something that'll be changing? But it's cool to see how things have changed and I'd like to share them.

Right - with that out of the way. Everything's under the Read More due to the sheer amount of text.

Second First attempt at drawing the trio in my style - and you can especially tell with the little notes I have (trust me - there's a version with even more notes).

A lot of my references were from the videos, especially Light & Night as well as the instrumental album cover, and fan interpretations I've seen that I liked and wanted to give a shot at (primarily Mind's mechanical hands/arms were from seeing @/maybedr3am's design) and some of my own interpretations or thoughts (but I wouldn't be surprised if some of those mixes with fan interpretations. Most of them I can't recall for the life of me except Heart having sharp teeth. I know others have done it - I just hadn't at the time seen a lot). But for the most part, there is a lot of me getting used to drawing hair specifically since I wanted them all to look somewhat different and it was good to practice that.

Some of these notes do not make sense to me right now - and I doubt they made sense at the time tbh (looking at that one near Soul)

While I much preferred starting primarily going off of the videos, Mind was an exception. ...Accidentally. I struggled really hard with him and still do so that note is funny in hindsight. I liked the robot/android-esque (?) angle/reference to 'mechanical hands' folks went with but forgot I don't draw robots much. It was frustrating me and in that time, I gave him snake bites to, as I say in the notes, mirror screws. ... And now they're just part of my Mind design because I like them too much.

Also!! I mentioned that I have a version with a lot more notes (and a different attempt at Mind I hated). I didn't really want a bunch of doodles of my sona around, so this version is for somewhat easier reading. It also left me with extra space for one more thing and I was listening to Dream so, a doodle based off the last verse it was! (I love that song, it's so good)

Second one which is a compilation of a bunch of different doodle sheets I did!! These are ones I really liked and also were mostly finished. But also each of the sheets (which is an amalgamation of three) were done at different times which you can see in my indecisiveness in what I liked in making Mind look more robotic bar just the arms and the one doodle where the hair sticking a top of Heart's head changes.

Soul, surprisingly, changes very little bar me not being able to decide if he'll have that accessory or not. Also me being stupid inconsistent with remembering to color in his hands (his whole body has that split color).

Anyways - like three of these are meme/shitpost adjacent. You'll also see me trying to think about how to incorporate the crown to Mind's design since I hadn't really tried - but I've since moved it to post-Cacophony or post-Light design ideas/headcanons. I like the hairpin idea a lot. (Note: In this headcanon, Heart also has something but it's a bracelet and... there's a lack of hands in this so... yeah. Mind made it) Also me doing a thing I like to just give random new outfits when drawing a character and... Heart's the one I had the most fun drawing.

The only completely separate one! Mostly 'cause I already had it set to be separate.

It's a height headcanon thing I drew to visualize things for myself since I'm not the best with height. All it is, is that I think they're all the same height based off of what CJ said in the Medium Q&A. But then you have little details like Mind wearing platform shoes that basically make him 6'0" and Soul slouching a lot making him "the shortest". (Also hi completely human Mind design)

This was also originally done on the same doodle sheet where the "Fuck it we ball" one was on btw. Time wise, that was before I started changing how I drew the little hair sticking out on Heart's head which - speaking of...

Despite still drawing them interacting, I started to make clip files to practice drawing them on their own. I was already kind of doing that traditionally and I thought this would be a good way to get me to focus on one of the members. Especially since drawing with my tablet pen and pencil feels different but especially with these three.

Also - focusing on them individually felt like a good way to get used to how I draw them overall. I have one for Soul and Mind now, but not at the time. Idk if I'll share more of those later unless I can format them like actual reference sheets.

Fundamentally, this serves the same purpose as the first sheet. Trying out a bunch of things, just letting my hand... draw and seeing what I like and don't. Maybe even noting some little actions that I see myself drawing them doing (like the hands balled up in fists a lot). Also! It explains why I changed the shape of the hair at the top! I think the heart shape is cute - but as I did it more, I found with me trying to make his bangs look like a heart... just for me and my style specifically, it started to feel much. But then I had another idea in making it a bit more cartoon-y, which was the kind of circle/halo shape to create an angel motif and it fit well with how I see Heart. So that's how it is now!

It's actually fascinating seeing that I suddenly started changing how I drew his hair? I started this after making this for the record (which now I remember - I referenced these), and something just... changed. I don't like it considering I was actively trying to draw curls. I have a better grasp on it now though - I think.

-----

Anyways - that's everything! Uh - thanks for reading all my ramblings if you did. I have no idea if I'll format any future art dumps/doodle dumps like this again but we'll see. Doing this made me notice both advantages and disadvantages to this so... It'll really depend if I have the same amount to say, haha.

[helleboretks]

Heads Up!

Y'all I am very well probably gonna post a fic for my new fandom tmr bc by God I cannot WAIT-

So lemme tell y'all what fandom I'm hyperfixating on rn, just to give y'all a heads up!

Anyone ever heard of Lego Monkie Kid?

BECAUSE OH MY GOD IS THAT SHIT STUCK IN MY HEAD TWENTY FOUR FUCKING HOURS A DAY-

For those who don't know! LEGO Monkie Kid is an animated Lego Show loosely based off the ancient Chinese Mythos, more specifically one of the four greatest classic novels, Journey to the West!

It's super fun and light hearted, but it's also got its moments where you're like 'hold the fuckin' phone, how dis a kids show????'

And like-hear me out y'all-

The TRAUMA these characters have gone through-

AND THEY ACTUALLY PORTRAY TRAUMA REALLY WELL??? NOT ONLY THAT BUT THERE ARE VILLAINS WITH COMPLEX PERSONALITIES AND GOALS, LOTS OF FUCKING IDENTITY CRISIS IN THE LATER SEASONS, AND LOTS OF FOUND FAMILY AND FRIENDSHIP AND THEY EVEN HAVE THE MC (who's male) HAVING A GIRL BESTIE AND THEY'RE LITERALLY BESTIES NO ROMANTIC FEELINGS INVOLVED, OH MY GOD-

And I end up obsessing over the one side character that doesn't get much screen time, and LEMME TELL YOU-

YOU'LL UNDERSTAND WHAT I MEAN IF YOU WATCH THE SHOW!!!

It's got four seasons rn, probs gonna get the fifth on either this December or somewhere in January-

BUT BY GOD DO I RECOMMEND IT-

I RECOMMEND IT A LOT BECAUSE ALL THESE CHARACTERS ARE SO TICKLABLE AND IT'S GIVING MY BRAIN PROBLEMS Y'ALL

NOT ONLY THAT, BUT NON-TICKLE RELATED, ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE FUCKING FANTASTIC-

WE GOT MONKEYS

WE GOT BULL DEMONS

WE GOT CELESTIAL DEITIES

WE GOT DRAGONS UP IN THIS SHIT

DRAGONS

AND THE CHARACTERS ARE ALL SO FUCKING WELL DEVELOPED, AND THEY'RE ALL SO FUCKING EASY TO LOVE AND SHIT AND I JUST-

I can't-

Imma fucking implode on myself-

Not only that, but bc of how Lego Shows are naturally with character design, y'all can go batshit wild with design headcanons and shit-

AND I CAN NOT RECOMMEND IT ENOUGH!!!!

If it's not your forte, that's totally all cool and shit, don't let my post pressure you into watching it =w=

SO FOR THE PEOPLE WHO'RE INTERESTED IN AN MC HAVING SILLY LITTLE ADVENTURES TO UNDERSTAND HIS NEW FOUND POWER WHICH THEN TURNS INTO 'TRAUMA TRAUMA-oh found family-MORE TRAUMA-aw, these characters are so cute!-EVEN MORE TRAUMA-WHY IS THIS A KIDS SHOW???-MORE TRAUMA' THEN WATCH LEGO MONKIE KID CAUSE THESE CHARACTERS ARE SPINNING THROUGH MY HEAD LIKE A FIDGET SPINNER AND I NEED YOU ALL TO BE AWARE OF THIS-

[author-of-kimyona]

so the design process for each character is very lengthy, and added with now getting ready for college, it's taking a bit a LOT longer than expected to finish every character's designs.

BUT. i do have the base sketches finished for 3 characters that I'm proud of

Kimyōna:

i decided to give her a more rugged look. her life wasn't that easy, and I wanted for her clothing to reflect that. i still wanted to make her look cool-and maybe a bit dystopian-so I reflected that in her design as well.

here's a closeup of her profile because it's kind of hard to see in the initial photo

Ami Himura:

this isn't her final look, but I still wanted to share this to show my design process. she still has a sailor uniform-esque outfit on, but I also gave her a letterman jacket that hangs off her shoulders and a sleeveless top underneath. the belt connecting her skirt and her top is made of metal to give it a more futuristic look. the middle of her belt has a heart on it <3. she still has her hair and signature bow because I love it

because of story reasons, i changed it (no you will not know why. that will be spoilers >:()

I wanted to Ami's outfit to fit a more traditional look, but still have the ✨Ami flare✨. But I didn't know how I would go about it, so I tried combining different pieces of traditional Japanese attire to see what would work. i settled with a combination of a haori and a michiyuki, and this seemed to work the best as being both traditional and appealing to Ami's character.

It's main color is blue because it's her favorite color (and I color coded Ami to be blue at the very beginning) and I added some pink accents and added some red flowers because it looks nice (Ami's surname "Himura" literally translates to "dark red village" so the flowers work there too). her belt is less traditional and is more similar to our modern belts but I think it works here.

now here's Ami with her new fit :D

I also made her face and body type less mature to fit her age and personality

Indigo Jelani:

my notes aren't lying when I say that I loved designing her

her appearance didn't change too much from what y'all may have seen in my previous posts, but there are some stuff that are worth mentioning.

her scarf is not attached to her top. it's its own thing! i also gave it a more ombre pattern-going dark to light-and the rest of her outfit is going to reflect the same way in the future. i gave her shirt longer sleeves that just go down to below her elbow. she no longer has a turtleneck and instead had a u-collar thingy (don't know what to call it). her shorts now have a flower pattern, but I'm still trying to find what flowers they should be.

here's a closer look at her profile since it's harder to see in the initial photo. forgot to mention that her scarf has a clasp in the front

i lied. here's my process of trying to create a cuter design for Jelly:

i made this a while back and y'all probably seen it in my sneek peak of redesigning everyone, but I thought I'd share it now. i want Jelly to be less annoying but still charming. i basically experimented with shapes until i found a combination that made me happy, then finished the character from there

[blu3-j]

Table of Contents:

Introduction

Are Requests Open Currently?

Are Commissions Open Currently?

Request Rules (both fanfiction and art)

How to Request (both fanfiction and art)

Things to Keep in Mind

Link to Writing Master List

Introduction:

Hello, fellow strangers! I'm blu3-j, but you can call me J. I do fanart! (Along with regular art, but you'll have to ask for me to share my other social media with it on there. This account is supposed to remain a secret and irl mutuals follow my other social medias, haha!) I also do fanfiction, apparently! I love writing, truly! It brings me great joy! I only begun after I joined Tumblr, so I'm very happy you all like my writing! (If you want to see my other non-fanfiction works, hit me up, bestie! I'd love to share!)

Are Requests Open Currently?

As of current, yes! Feel free to send them in! Make sure to look over the rules and "Things to Keep in Mind" sections before you do!

Are Commissions Open Currently?

As of current, no, commissions are not open. I'm still in the process of setting them up. I will make a seperate post about them once I open them up, though! (On top of updating this)

Request Rules:

(May be updated in future)

Fanfiction:

No NSFW (I do not feel comfortable writing it)

No child x character unless it's platonic or familial (they're just a kid, dude.)

No OCs

No racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.

Reader will always be gender neutral unless specified otherwise in the request

Art:

Keep in mind this is more so just casual stuff, so don't expect it to be full illustrations (I may do so if I feel like it and like the idea well enough, but don't get your hopes high in the chance I don't, okie? I don't want to hurt your feelings if I don't! Your precious heart needs to be cherished! There's no replacement for it, after all!)

K.I.S.S. it! Keep it simple, stupid! (You're not stupid, that's just part of the saying I was taught.)

There may be minor gore allowed (light blood. I will be picky if there's gore.)

No NSFW (only if you were commissioning me, but there's a special fee for that. Commissions are currently not set up. Keep a lookout for that, though!)

How to Request:

Fanfiction:

Send in an ask through the little ask button on my thingy! (Make sure to read the rules, first!)

Specify characters and if reader is involved

Specify what kind of relationship it is (platonic, familial, romantic, poly, etc.) (If that's what you're requesting, of course! It can just be a general idea or situation.)

If you're more into headcannons, you can send in requests for those, too!

Art:

Send in an ask through the little ask button on my thingy! (Make sure to read the rules, first!)

And put in the situation/suggestion/idea! You can also specify characters and if viewer is involved. Simple as that! You've got it down!

Things to Keep in Mind:

Don't be shy about requesting! I do my best not to judge, and if I do, you'll never know. You shouldn't need to know, regardless! It's you, after all! You don't deserve that. If I don't have anything good to say, I won't say anything at all!

If you don't know what I'll take as a request, ask me! I'll gladly answer. I won't bite! Promise, cross my heart! With a pinkie promise, too! You're safe here.

I can, however, deny requests. I'll simply just not do anything with them. I won't talk about them on my blog posts, ilI won't show anybody, nothing. Please don't ask about requests you've already sent in and if I'll do them. If I will, I'll get to it eventually.

I have my own life filled with busy-busy events! I may take a while to get to things, and I may occasionally not have requests or commissions open. I also have to take care of myself and mental wellbeing. I'll let y'all know if I'm taking a break from doing things on Tumblr, okie?

Just want to ask me something general or tell me something cool! Go ahead! I love making conversation! Just because I take requests doesn't mean I don't want to get to know you all better! (You all are so amazing! How could I not?)

Link to Writing Master List

[rae-gar-targaryen]

amor fati [druig x fem!eternals reader]

A/N: Ya girl is back and officially posting writing again. I know it's been a while, but thank you for sticking with me. I didn't think I'd write for Marvel again, but, well, like all of you, I was just taken by Barry's performance as Druig, who (along with Makkari) quickly stole the whole movie for me. Keep an eye out for an upcoming TASM!Spidey and/or Matt Murdock fic, as well. Might as well go full-tilt Marvel now… 

This piece is probably a cliché, but oh well. I hope you like! Please tell me what you liked, what you didn't, and what, if anything, I should do for Druig in the future. There is a playlist for this, as well. 

Reblogs are always appreciated! 

Pairing: Druig x fem eternal!reader (Reader’s legend is that of Artemis, the hunter goddess. No Y/N); some Drukkari x reader, if you're looking. 

Word Count: 16.1k of eternal love, the stuff that poems are made of, and my usual abuse of simile and metaphor. Cotton candy sweetness -- but careful, lest it dissolve between your fingertips. Who said romance wasn’t a little tragic? All’s well that ends well.

Warnings: my writing is its own warning, angst, eternals-style heartbreak (y'all have either seen the movie or read enough fic to know that our boy leaves), canon-typical violence, misuse of power. Also? Smut, so 18+ ONLY -- touching, biting, outdoor naughtiness, mutual masturbation, and other things that occur more than once in here, okay? 

Summary: A love for the ages, yours and Druig's feelings for one another have persisted throughout time and distance. Stoic as Druig is, winter snow melts in the light of spring, and a little hunter has held his heart in her hands for millennia. Gently traipses through the plot of the movie.

---

By starlight, everything was serene. A luminous, crescent crown.

Your awakening was like the warp and the weft, weaving the threads that comprised your personhood through a grandiose loom. It was simultaneously soft and scraping – A yarn-like itch behind your eyelids compelled you to open them, only to be met with a room full of strangers. 

You saw him then -- eyes of twinkling, galactic starlight. Serene. 

You tilted the corner of your lips in a soft smile, hoping to convey similar softness. Welcoming. And his face? His face remained stoic. Passive.

As you would come to learn, as history unfolded, it all was positively Austenian. Dickensian. Shakespearean, maybe?

Here he was: The crystalline-eyed boy with raven hair and blooming-lily skin, so superior in his indifference. Who carried himself with a power that transcended time. A cool, quiet tempest. Burning insight and demand into the deepest corners of a mind, like the golden, fiery sun.   

There you were: The doe-eyed girl. Quick in wit (and to anger), the sharpness of your tongue second only to that of your arrows. Fearsome, to be sure, but soft for him. (As he would be for you). Graceful and generous. A flower known to bloom by the silvery light of the pale moon. 

There was no way to know it when you awoke. But the two of you would be wrapped in one another throughout eternity, as threads pulled tightly around a finger, woven through a loom. But perhaps you had been before then, if man could comprehend a “prior-to” eternity. If you could remember a time before now.

But forever is made of little nows...

Perhaps this is where Austen, Dickens, Shakespeare, and the like would come to draw their inspiration. From the legends of godlike warriors who would cross the universe, if it meant even a moment together. Who guarded and tended the fragile sapling that was the human race. Who stole clandestine moments to bask in one another, exchanging endearments and creating traditions that would become symbols of love throughout time. Everything starts somewhere. 

For the very moment you opened your eyes in the cool, eerie light of the Domo, you were invigorated with purpose. You had awoken with Arishem’s booming voice in your ears, permeating your mind. Dictating to you. To protect the human race of Earth. To defeat the Deviants. 

You padded softly across the chamber, smiling and nodding at your fellow Eternals, introducing yourself as you went, until you stood before him. Rugged, roguish, and still somehow boyish, he stood with his arms clasped behind his back, appraising you. His black armor replete with details of curving, curling red, his eyebrows quirked as he looked down at you, awaiting your word.

You gave him your name, holding out your hand for him to take.

“Druig,” he responded, the lilt of his accent strange and soothing to your ears as he clasped your hand gently in greeting.

You nodded, a warm smile gracing your features as you looped his hand through your arm and made to cross to the nearest window together. 

“Are you excited?” You asked him; the feel of his arm was warm against yours as you took in the marble-like appearance of the planet you were assigned to. Comforting. “This is my first assignment since leaving Olympia … ‘Earth,’ you sighed. “I wonder what it will be like.”

Druig chuckled softly at your eagerness, taking you in as you observed the blue-green planet of Earth through the glass of the Domo. 

Your armor was rosy, copper-like in appearance with striking details of silvery-blue twining its way across your body, as the red did with his. 

Fitting, he thought. That your very warmth should be reflected in the very nature of your kit. Not just anyone would immediately approach Druig and hold his hand. He wasn’t exactly known for his sunny disposition on Olympia. 

Was he? 

Yet, here you stood fearlessly by his side as though you belonged, your eyes shining by the light of space, ethereal. By starlight, everything was serene. 

Not for the first time since he had met you did Druig find himself quirking his brow in assessment of you. Intrigued. For what could someone so seemingly gracious, gentle, do in battle against Deviants, of all things?

“Ta. Well, we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?” Druig answered both your question and his own musings before another voice snapped the moment. 

“It is time,” your leader – Ajak, your mind supplied – spoke. Summoning you all to prepare yourself for the journey to Earth. 

As you took your place alongside the others, you couldn’t help but feel the elation coursing through you. The determination. You would protect this planet with everything you had. Whatever time you had to learn the beings of Earth, and your fellow Eternals, was like a book waiting to be pored over.  Your lives stitched together, piecemeal, made by some unseen, Celestial force. Woven. Throughout eternity, woven. 

How could you have known just how much, little hunter?

— 

In some ways, fighting was as easy as breathing, as weaving. It’s what you were made for, wasn’t it? 

As you and your fellow Eternals progressively cleared each corner of the globe from the Deviant infestation, you learned to operate together. To move as one to defeat the beings that threatened the development of this planet. 

Somewhere along the way, between the immeasurable conjuring of your golden arrows to fire through the bow you could weave at will, it became, well, fun. Centuries spent side by side with the universe's finest warriors had taught you a thing or two. And as humanity had developed, thanks in part to Sersi's gentle patience and Phastos's ingenuity, so had you.

As Thena and Gilgamesh cut through their enemies like tissue paper, you and Kingo would offer coordinated support through the benefit of distance attacks and hawkish aim. Determined and quick, you never missed. Kingo made for an excellent partner, releasing the beaming power of the sun from his fingertips as though it was nothing. Shooting down Deviants, the two of you covering the backs of your fellow Eternals, and working seamlessly in tandem. 

Kingo would offer you a smirk when he connected with his mark, and hollered a “nice shot,” when you aimed true. Whether the two of you had a running competition as to who could strike the most targets from the greatest distance was for the two of you to know, and for no one else to find out. The tally marks surreptitiously etched into the corner of the Domo were for the two of you alone. 

And Ajak -- a mother in some ways and the commander of a battalion in others -- saw fit that when you weren't fighting the deviants, you spent ample time training to fight deviants. 

It was this training time where you would partner with those Eternals whose skills were the most unlike your own – trying to prod the blur that you knew to be Makkari with a plinking, blunted arrow. Or seeking to best the taciturn Druig in hand-to-hand before he could bewitch you with eyes of molten gold. 

Truth be told, Druig was no slouch at close-quarters combat. But against an opponent with the coordination and entrenched anticipation of an archer? Besting you was no small feat. If he could best you, that is.

The two of you traded blows as easily as you traded quips. Druig, so usually reserved, flourished. He was agile as he jumped and spun to avoid your strikes, twirling around you to make his move.  You dodged his attempted strike to your face, using the momentum to lean back and swing your leg to knock Druig’s from under him. As Druig’s shoulders met the floor, you rolled, fluidly conjuring a small dagger, which you brought to his bare throat. Meeting him with the weight of your forearms against his shoulders to keep him fixed to the floor. 

You beamed down at your quarry, batting your lashes. An innocent smile – for no being with a smile so bright could have done what you just did, right? You? Topple someone so fearsome? Never. 

“Don’t toy with your food,” Kingo called to you teasingly, unable to contain his chuckle at your position over Druig. “Leave the poor boy with some pride, archer.” 

“Pride?” You quirked a brow down at the man below you, shifting your weight to stand above him and offering a hand. “Do you feel proud?” You teased. 

Druig clasped his warm hand into yours, panting lightly with the exertion of sparring, and allowed you to hoist him to his feet. Using the momentum of your pull, he leveraged himself into crowding your personal space, swarming your senses with nothing but Druig as he smirked back at you. 

“Of you? Immensely, hunter,” Druig breathed so that Kingo couldn't hear, the cadence of his accent a pleasant hum against your ears. 

He released your hands, circling you as though preparing to spar once more. As a panther would, replete with inky hair and coiling muscle. 

“You’ve felled your prey bravely. What deviant could stand against you?” 

You snorted, pleased with Druig’s teasing demeanor, a warm little thrum coursing through you. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be. Time and gentle patience had taught you that he wasn’t always as dour as he could be with the others – given the right circumstances. 

Or perhaps the right company?  He was never quite so cross with you or Makkari. 

“Perhaps you think too highly of the threat you pose, dear Druig. For what are men compared to deviants?” you asked, your eyes tracking his progress around you. 

Druig’s pacing ceased at your words, his eyes a brewing storm as he swept a glance up and down your form. Stepping to close the gap between the two of you once more and deliberately brushing his shoulder into yours, he paused to look down at your profile before he passed you by. 

“Be on your guard. I am no mere man, little hunter,” he murmured, leaving your side with a parting wink. 

Your gaze never left Druig as he departed, making his way down the verdant-lit halls of the Domo. Leaving your body buzzing pleasantly with something as you recalled the way his lips had ever-so-slightly grazed the shell of your ear as he taunted you. 

Just one of many threads serving to weave you both together, twining colors of dawn, of star-crested trees, and a crown of holy branches. Of breaking tides and moonlit swaths. You couldn’t choose the threads within the loom, obsequious at the facile hands of fate – or something else. 

— 

Clearing corners of the globe did allow you to take in the many splendors of this planet, as you had so hoped all those years ago on the Domo before coming to Earth. To allow you to get to know the people of Earth, your fascination with them and their development as endless as their apparent fascination with the Eternals. 

But it wasn’t just the people of Earth that held your attention. 

Nature had offered an escape, a reprieve from the endless conflict with the Deviants. You did not seek the next battle, as Thena did. Nor were you as entrenched in development as Phastos.

No, you preferred to spend your days exploring the countryside, climbing rocks, swimming in the ocean. Tending to the deer in the forest.

One such day found you enjoying the lake near where you had settled. It was an atypically quiet day, and cool babbling was soothing to you as you observed the clear water, taking in the colorful rocks like a rainbow embedded beneath its surface. The fish paid you no mind as you waded in, unable to help yourself. 

“Not t’ cold, is it?” You turned at the smooth, accented voice of Druig as he made his way through the treeline, coming to stop along the shore near where you had waded in, hands folded as he observed you in the sunlight. 

“I don’t mind a bit of cold, demeanor or otherwise,” you acknowledged. “Besides, the humans bathe and wash their linens here. If they don’t mind it, I don’t see any reason why I should.” 

Druig snorted at that, wading his way into the water not far from where you stood, the current gently rippling around your bodies.

“I've heard them talking about you, you know. Sprite's been spinning her web of tales in every city we dock,” Druig said offhandedly as he tossed a stone atop the clear lake, rippling the water’s previously-unblemished surface with the skips of the smooth rock. 

“Oh?” You plucked a unique-looking grey-blue rock from the shallows, your dress bunching in the water and flowing about your knees. “And what do they say?”

You turned over the rock you had chosen in your hands, noting, pleased, how its shade was so similar to the eyes of the man who stood beside you, plucking and skipping stones of his own.

“They call you Artemis. Some call you Diana. Others Selene. Different names for the same, stunning entity. Goddess of the forest, the hunter, the protector of young women throughout their land." 

You laughed. 

“That’s a kind and gentle way to describe conjuring arrows to destroy Deviants in bloody battle. Are you sure they aren’t referring to Sersi instead?” you chirped, leaning down to trail your fingers through the cool, clear water, admiring the way the blue of the rock looked so striking when held beneath the surface. 

“And what of your legends?” You queried. “So powerful that Sprite has invented an entire mystical order to explain away the one man who can grasp a million minds. The druids. Does that not tickle your pride somewhat?”

“An attempt to make me sound useful and utilitarian, perhaps?” Druig tossed another stone, ignoring its skipping progress across the water’s surface in favor of wading gently closer to where you stood. 

“Even so. Solitary folk they are, eh? The druids. So Sprite says. Any truth to that, then?” Your eyes tracked his progress as he disrupted the cool river’s surface to stand by your side.

Druig shrugged, coolly, but still affable. Willing to banter with you a bit more. The stretch of patience he would extend to you, to your conversations, after centuries still never ceased to amaze you. You often wondered what it is that had separated you from the others. Why he would extend these courtesies to you, to Makkari, and offer you glimpses of himself. 

“You know I prefer solitude if I am gifted it. Too many minds around and it gets a bit … crowded … up here.” Druig made a motion with his hands, circling around his head. “Like the buzzing of so many busy little bees,” he sighed. “But you know my power. You know me.”

You shuddered a bit at the heat that had laced Druig’s voice. “Do I?” You looked across the water, teasingly refusing to meet Druig’s gaze. “And what do you suppose my estimation is?” 

“Other than finding me roguishly handsome, you mean?” Druig teased. 

Your eyes widened at Druig’s jest. Although, in every joke, a kernel of truth. Had he been reading your thoughts? 

“Bah!” You huffed, “Don’t be a scoundrel. Especially not with someone who can best you in a fight.” 

“You still think you can best me, then?” Druig challenged, his voice light and bantering. 

“Oh, I know I can,” you bent your knees ever-so-slightly below the water, ready to spring should Druig challenged you. “You think I would expel all of my energy when we spar? Please.”  

“I could always just compel you to lose,” Druig said, tapping his chin as though deep in thought. 

“You would have to be faster than Artemis to do that,” and with that, you pounced, lurching forward and giving Druig’s shoulder a purposeful shove, causing him to slip on the stones beneath his feet topple into the water with a resounding splash, the sound cracking against the trees. 

You laughed as you backed away toward the shore, out of Druig’s reach as he broke the surface of the water, spluttering.

If you had thought he resembled a large cat before when you were training, the comparison was certainly apt now. He fixed you with a glare as he shook the water from his hands, and then his hair, now wet and matted to his head, his clothes stuck to his form, dripping. 

“Cheeky, hunter,” Druig breezed, his voice taking on a low timbre, but with no hint of malice, as he waded toward the shoreline, giving way to the chase you were leading him on as you darted from his grasp. 

He bent at the shoreline, dragging his hand through the water and attempting to splash you as you ran down the shore. 

Druig certainly could be fast when he wanted to be, you thought, too little too late as he closed the gap between you, catching you with an arm around your waist and causing you both to topple onto the pebbled shore. 

 You laughed together, Druig taking the moment to stroke a stray hair at your crown back into place.

“How could we have never met on Olympia?” you asked him, softly, “I feel as though I should have known you my entire life. And yet … we have only met now. It hardly feels fair. Years without the discovery of one another.” 

“We know one another now,” he shrugged, knocking an affable shoulder into yours as you sat beside one another, taking in the lake once more. 

Druig’s company was easy. Summer rain, the soft tapping on glass, warm, sweet and refreshing. 

You reached for the canvas bag you had brought with you that rested near where you had stopped together on the shore, pulling a fiery-hued orange from the depths of your bag. 

“Is this where Makkari keeps getting these then,” Druig asked as he watched you peel the orange. “She’s always snacking on them.” 

You nodded, offering Druig a wedge, its skin visibly thin and membranous by the light of the sun, ready to burst with zinging, crisp flavor on your tongue when you bite into it. 

Druig held up his hand to you, making to refuse. But you gently took his wrist, opening his palm to you and placing the wedge in his hand. You had opened the rind as you were slowly opening yourself to him, splitting the orange down its center and offering to share. To share its brightness, its sweetness, as you would endeavor to share yours. 

"You need to enjoy yourself more. The world is full of small treasures waiting to be discovered. Take a page from Makkari’s book,” you bit your own wedge, Druig taking in the little slip of juice that made its way from the corner of your mouth. 

He shrugged, following suit and biting into his own wedge. 

"Do you like them?" You asked through a mouthful of sweet, zipping orange. 

He nodded softly, savoring the sweet, syrupy flavor. “And Makkari?”

"She likes sharing with me," you shrugged.

Druig’s brows quirked at that. He knew you knew that he was also close with Makkari. How he would anchor the quicksilver woman in tender moments. And she, him. He had hoped it wouldn’t be a point of contention as you and he developed into … whatever you were that felt dangerously like affection. 

It seems he was mistaken; for you and Makkari were clearly also … affectionate.

To you, Makkari was milk and honey. Sweetness, nourishment, home.  Druig was oil. Rich and incendiary. He was the sagebrush you smelled in the desert before a storm – A cautionary comfort you could never quite quantify. 

And as the traipsing trail of time slipped past, thick like honey, you were eager for this to unfold. The path before you now lay, heavy and unblemished, like freshly packed and fallen snow. Tread lightly, little one, lest you sink too far. Or mar the surface of yours and Druig's tenuous friendship. 

And the  humans, it seemed, had grown to adore their protectors. 

And your friendship -- no, that seemed too soft a word … partnership?? -- had blossomed. Sharing your observations on humanity, sparring, your cheeky little intrigues with Makkari, helping her "obtain" treasures she sought. Your sniper's eye was good for more than just combat, after all...

And, at the celebration the humans had held for you within the stronghold of Babylon’s walls, you basked in the warmth of the evening from your chosen perch. 

Watching Sersi dance with the humans. Watched as Sprite weaved her tales with the accompaniment of shimmering, golden illusions. Watched as Makkari haggled with the townsfolk. You had turned down Kingo and Gilgamesh's offer of a drinking contest in favor of observation. Perhaps you were waiting for the offer to dance, instead?

“You know,” Druig pushed himself off of the wall at the periphery of your vision, his lilting voice breaking your thoughts, “I asked Makkari where she got some of those artifacts to trade. She started to mention something about them being won in a ‘shooting contest,’ before becoming suspiciously forgetful. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you, dear hunter of mine?” 

Druig ambled his way over to where you held court, your gaze fixed solely on him now. 

“Now, Dru, you know I respect Ajak’s rules far too much to aid in any kind of scheme where thievery is involved. Besides, were they really thieved if I won them fair and square?” You smiled at him then, a quick flash of tilted lips and teeth, like a fox might bare its teeth at its prey. 

The flicker of ferocity behind your grin was a direct juxtaposition to your usually-calm demeanor, and the softness of the dress that adorned your body. So different from your usual stiff, copperish armor. 

A heady combination, Druig thought, your contradictions continuing to surprise him. 

“And what did Makkari promise you in return for your assistance?” Druig stood before you, arms clasped behind his back in apparent repose. But you knew better. Lightning roiled beneath his skin, in the contrasting gold-and-blue of his stormy eyes. He merely awaited his moment. 

“Alleged assistance, my love,” you teased. “And Makkari’s and my arrangements are our own. No business of yours …  not unless you ask nicely for it to be your business.” 

At the heated lilt of your teasing voice, Druig’s mind was awash with the possibility and entendre of what you had said. 

“You’ve compelled me to ask, but for my own self–preservation, perhaps I’ll save that for later,” Druig replied, circling you slowly. “That’s a lovely dress, by the way.”

You smiled at his compliment, your desire to tease gone as you felt flush at his compliment. Almost shy. You shifted on your feet. 

“I almost feel more comfortable in my armor, but Kingo insisted. He’s got more of a flair for this sort of thing than I do, anyway,” you offered, glancing at your Apollo from across the room as he laughed with Gilgamesh at Sprite’s illusions. "And some of the women in the village made it for me." 

The upswing of a new song caught your attention, and you turned to the man beside you, who was likewise observing the others. Ever-watchful, your Druig. 

The two of you had shared tender moments. Conversations far too personal to be purely platonic. Hell, the two of you had even shared a few kisses over the years. Embraced. Held one another in private moments just for the two of you. Or three of you. But the urgency to progress something wasn't really a factor when you lived forever. 

Nevertheless, yours and Druig's… whatever you might call it… had not really progressed past a certain point. Call it respect for the being you knew to be reserved in his affection, but you didn't feel the need to be overly-physical it it wasn't something he had instituted.

That doesn't mean the desire wasn't there. At least on your part. The burning thrum of something just shy of need. The hope to hold onto Druig as more than just your friend. To press the planes of your skin along his in quiet moments. To feel his hands caress parts of yourself that no one else would. His hands were quite maddeningly beautiful, weren't that? Craving the resplendent mutualism of shared ardor.

Had centuries not been long enough? So, while you didn’t know what came over you, you felt compelled to ask nonetheless – 

“Would you care to dance?” You piped up suddenly, your own voice (or perhaps the suddenness of your own courage) causing you to jump a bit, like a startled fawn. 

Had you really just done that? No sense in playing coy now.

You gestured at the circling crowd. 

Ah. So, perhaps it was a foolish request.

Druig quirked a brow at you, tilting the corner of his mouth into a barely-there half smile. For his part, he seemed to hesitate a tad before taking in the magnitude of the crowd and responding,

“I’m not much of a dancer, I’m afraid, love,” he replied. “Besides, can’t have anyone knowing I have two left feet.” 

You tried to quell the rush of icy disappointment and proverbial cold water his response had shot through you.

“I’ve seen you fight, Dru, your feet are precisely as they should be,” you teased gently, masking the mild sting of rejection you felt with a joke. “Ah, well.” 

With that, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and patted his arm softly before making your way from the room, and outside of the city walls. 

A blurring rush came to a stop beside Druig as he watched you go. He turned to find Makkari at his side, a stern look fixed to her usually-gentle features, prominent chin jutted in Druig’s direction and eyes awash in a frown. 

“Why would you do that?” She prodded at Druig, her hands flying. 

“I’m not much of a joiner,” he responded, signing back his dissent to your invitation. 

“She just wanted to spend time with you. Even you aren't that dense. Go on, go find her. You can thank me later,” Makkari was insistent, shoving him in the direction of the door you had left from. 

“Nosy,” Druig chuckled, rolling his eyes over-dramatically to ensure Makkari would see, before smiling at her in thanks and following your path.

Your invitation to dance had taken him a bit by surprise. It's not as though the two of you weren't … affectionate with one another, by any stretch. And it's not as though he didn't want to be. 

The thought of the two of you sharing everything together had crossed his mind. Of course it had. The idea that you would feel even an ounce of the ardorous devotion he felt for you was a heady one.

And there it was -- devotion. 

Druig was no fool, far from it. He simply wouldn't allow himself to be flung into anything without first understanding the parameters involved. It's not as though his reserved demeanor was a secret amongst his fellow Eternals.

Moments spent with you… by the lake, in his chambers on the Domo, gentle teasing and the tug-and-pull of something more in the heartstrings between you. While the long life Druig had been gifted was full of many moments, those with you, those with Makkari, these were his favorites. 

That he could have all of you was a thought he only desired to entertain if it could come to fruition. And now, the possibility was so very tangible, he could feel it beneath his fingertips. It felt like the brush of your lips, the gentle promise of something more.

Druig made his way to find you, determined. 

You had sat yourself outside of the city walls, staring at the moon as it hung over the city. It was luminous, as though it, too, wanted to join in, to celebrate the Eternals’ victory. 

The cool, quiet air was necessary after being exposed to the heat of the party. And … something potentially more embarrassing. But for the second time that night, a familiar brogue interrupted your thoughts.

“And what are you doing out here?” Druig called, coming to sit beside you, legs propped up to allow an arm to sling over his knees, reaching for your hand. “Were you not enjoying the festivities?” 

The gentle nature of Druig's rolling accent put your mind at ease. His tone implying repentance, an olive branch.

"Oh, I was. But someone wouldn't dance with me," you pouted, rising to your feet and brushing off your dress to twirl away from Druig's grasp playfully. And perhaps to mask the small bit of hurt that you had felt. 

But, now that the two of you were a respectable distance from the crowd, not to mention the prying eyes of your fellow Eternals, you felt perhaps Druig might be willing to engage. That the two of you could have a moment just for you, as you had so many times over the years. Something to cherish. You loved the others, but they could be so nosy.

Druig chuckled in spite of himself, a low, clear sound, like breaking thunder in the middle-distance of a cloudy day, his eyes never leaving your form.

"I've never been much of a joiner. You know very well I prefer to watch you," he said with a shrug, his voice taking on a heat that you would follow, directly into the burning sun if you must. 

You wouldn't back down now. He had sought you out, after all, hadn't he? 

No more tenuous dancing of an anxious doe. You were a fearsome hunter, after all. And if he could toy with you … well, turnabout was fair play.

"You would rather watch me than move with me?" 

You were coy, your lips pouting in a teasing smirk. You reached for Druig, lacing your fine-boned fingers through his firm, warm ones, pulling him up to sway with you and guiding his hands toward your hips. 

Your grin faltered slightly as you looked up at Druig through your lashes, his icy eyes melting with the warmth of his gaze upon you. His fingers were still laced with yours, which you used to your advantage as you continued to guide his touch over your hips, a gentle graze over soft curves, with only the stars in the heavens to watch over you, twinkling and winking their approval of your loving flirtation, your steady adoration. 

Druig dropped his forehead to touch yours, his eyes never leaving yours as his towering frame leaned into your swaying figure. 

Breaking one hand free to trail up your side, Druig grazed your chin with molten, idolatrous fingertips, letting them come to rest on the side of your jaw, as though it were the most natural resting point for him. And perhaps it was.

"You know I would move however you asked, goddess of mine," he rumbled. "You need only to ask."

"You would?" You murmured, bringing your free hand to read on Druig's chest, where you could feel the low, steady beat of his heart. "And that's enough for you, is it?"

"I would. The eternity we've been given is not enough," Druig's thumb that was resting along your jaw is now pressed into the plush of your lower lip, which he drags lightly down, his eyes following the movement. "For I could never have enough time with you."

You had lived for thousands of years; knew you would live for thousands more yet. But this was what you had been waiting for. This must be your purpose, Arishem be damned, to be loved by the man before you. 

For In all of that time, nothing compared to the feeling of Druig's lips on yours, nor the feeling of his touch to your skin. Nothing compared to what rushed through you, heated lightning and a rush of euphoria, of honey, as he held you outside of the city’s formidable walls. 

In Druig’s arms, you had found your own stronghold. 

You had once thought this type of love was for humans. For stories. Or just for Ikaris and Sersi. You did not think you would feel its keen sting, its quavering devotion, its promises and it's aches. 

But he had pressed his lips to yours. And As Druig’s mouth moved, slightly fumbling before becoming insistent when met with the soft petals of your lips, your resolve crumbled. 

“And I’m sorry about earlier,” Druig murmured his apology into your lips. “I would dance with you from here to eternity, and I lo–” his voice broke, “I love you.” 

You smiled at him then, beaming and radiant as one of your golden arrows. As the sunlight peeking through the forest trees. As only the goddess Artemis could. 

“Well then,” you murmured, your lips brushing along Druig’s… brushing, but never pressing, “I suppose you’ll just have to show me?” 

He had smirked then; his face, so normally smooth and impassive, quirked into a manner so self-assured. 

The moon and the whispering wind were the only witnesses to your moment alone. To the way Druig’s hands had slid beneath your skirt to brush along your thighs and through your folds as he held you tighter, tighter, impossibly tighter. To the honey-dipped slip of his tongue into your mouth, the warmth of his firm arms around yours, guiding you to the earth in the shadows of the great wall behind the both of you.

To the way he cradled your head as though you were the most precious gift. 

And would you be the goddess of the hunt if you did not seek out your quarry in kind? 

You had caught Druig’s wrist as he strummed and stroked his way to and through your glistening folds. You were nothing if not disciplined, the urge to seek out your prey its own kind of gratification to you. 

You flipped the two of you then, resting atop Druig’s hips, and caging him into the orbit that was your sheer power, leaning over him to tease, to stroke, to lick your way into his mouth. To press your own marks into the beautiful pallor of his throat. To roll your hips over his and feel all of him beneath you. 

As you divested him of each layer of cloth, you had left no part of him untouched, unwanted, your warmth surrounding him as you sank onto him. 

Truly, only nature would witness to what you and Druig had shared. To your gasps and moans into the others’ mouths. To the way you had dug your nails, crescents mirroring the moon above into his shoulders, his back. As you surged your hips into the rhythm between the two of you, poetry for yourselves alone, with a crest and a declaration shared only in this moment. To the way he had shattered alongside you, sharing this moment with only you. 

Weaving your way. Its own kind of dance. And you would twirl about one another until you couldn’t any longer.

And you had told him you loved him too. The genuine smile you were rewarded with would be something you would savor in your dreams for years to come. 

— 

But time has a way of twisting your ambitions. And the breaking point comes in Tenochtitlan. Amidst the fires, chaos, the fall of another Empire.

As the smoke and the popping of flames and guns alike rose around the Eternals, Druig’s mind was similarly aflame – burning with churning thoughts of war, the feeling of sticky blood beneath human hands as the people in the city below fought on. He tried to push it from his mind – tried to render himself immune to their conflict as Ajak had so frequently bid. But how could he? When he could hear their thoughts of unrest. Feel their blistering, itchy hatred for their so-called enemy?

When Thena broke beneath her Mahd Wy’ry, Druig felt himself splintering, too. Not in the same exact manner, but … beneath the crushing weight of waves of blood, historical conflict magnified throughout the millennia. One could only take so many human lives lost – the lives his Selene held so dearly – before it all became too much. 

“Do you have any idea what that does to someone after centuries?” Druig bellowed, refusing to meet his beloved’s eyes. Compelling the mortal men below to drop their weapons, Druig turned his rage on the others. On whomever would challenge him. On Ajak. On Ikaris. 

But, oh, you did. You had some idea. For to feel the heart of your beloved in so much pain was splintering you, too. If the weight that broke you did not come at the cruel, gnarled hands of Mahd Wy’ry, it would surely come with the fracturing of your family. If Druig were to leave now … well, even Eternals felt pain. 

The tears stung at your eyes as you watched Ajak plead with Druig to embrace Arishem’s purpose. A fool’s errand, you knew. Once Druig had set his mind to something, he would be loath to change it. Each word hurled between the two split your heart a fraction more. You could bear it no longer.

You stepped forward, opening your mouth to speak – but not before Kingo could sweep his arm before you, gently catching your waist. Turning to him, the pleading question in your eyes was met with morose understanding, with a bidding invocation from his heart to yours to please, don’t make this worse. 

You shook your head softly, gently removing his arm from you as you made toward Druig, but not before your beloved could strike the final nail into this coffin – 

“If you wanna stop me, you’re gonna have to kill me,” Druig hissed, turning on his heel and sparing an unreadable glance at you as he descended the stone steps of the temple, the men he had compelled making to follow him into the woods. 

You were so beautiful in that dress he earlier said he had admired. So soft and beautiful, a stark contrast to the smoke and violence that was drowning his senses. To the foggy commands he had implanted in the men’s minds, bidding them to stop fighting.  

Druig knew you would follow him – had dared to hope that perhaps you would come with him. Surely, he thought, you would see things his way. As the others had not. 

You padded down the steps behind him, Ajak’s sorrowful glance following your form as you trailed after your beloved. Knowing she would either lose two children this day, or that you would return with less of your heart than you had left with. An untenable situation, the outcome outweighed by the cost to the both of you.

“Druig,” you cried, “Druig! Wait, please!” 

The way your voice had broken over the word “please” caused Druig to stop, turning on his heel to watch you make your way toward him. The smoky, red fury smothering his heart dissipating slightly as he took in the desperation in your expression. 

“I won’t go back, hunter, please don’t ask,” Druig spoke before you could meet him. “She’s wrong, and you know it!” 

You faltered in your steps, approaching your beloved cautiously, as you would a skittish, newborn fawn in the golden wood. 

“My love, you know Ajak means well,” you spoke softly, tenuously, so as not to stoke the flames you could see licking their way behind Druig’s eyes, feeding his fury. “You know she loves you. We all do.” 

“Whether they do or not, I won’t be a pawn in Arishem’s game,” Druig clipped. “Not while people suffer needlessly. Look at them, my love. You love them. How can you let them … do this?” Druig gestured at the destruction around you.

“Because I have to trust that this … thirst for war, like all thirst, will eventually be quenched,” You knotted your hands into your skirt, the anxiety wheedling it’s way through your bones. “I don’t know if the humans will ever achieve harmony, but isn’t it up to them to try? Isn’t it an expression of our love to let them try? To trust, to hope?”

Druig scoffed, a harsh noise to your ears in its derision. 

“Up to them? Beneath the weight of their greed? Their jealousy? Their violence? They are buried,” Druig pleaded, eyes wild. “I can unburden them. You know I can.” 

"By controlling them! You think you know more than them?" you pressed, unable to believe just what you were hearing from the person you thought you knew so well.

"Please, love,” Druig scoffed, “I know I do. I can see into their minds. I know their limits. I know their weaknesses.” 

You could not believe what you were hearing -- as the remnants of the battle raged in the distance beyond you, you felt the rising bile of scourge and the heat of conflict rising within yourself. The man before you prided himself on being collected. A little derisive at times, sure, but never cruel. Never so casual in disinterested supremacy.

"We're meant to protect them, Dru,” you urged softly, firmly. “To help them. Not to rule them. It is not our place."

"But it can be mine,” he stepped toward you, fingers outstretched as if to take your hand. 

You stepped back, shaking your head and withdrawing from him, pulling your hand away so that his fingers could not meet your own. You tried not to notice the subtle flinch, nor the flash of pain behind your beloved’s eyes as he saw you retreat from him. Drawing away as you would draw your shortsword from a defeated Deviant, detached in your victory.

But you felt no pride in this. This was not victory. 

You tried again. 

"Your place was to be beside me, and mine beside you. Is that not what you want?" The wind blew the smoke from the warring fires around the both of you, swirling your skirts and stinging your eyes. Yes, that was what the prickling behind your eyes was. It had to be. Druig would never make you cry. 

"That can still be, my Selene, my Diana,” Druig implored, the usually cool lilt of his brogueish accent was now tinged with what you might mistake for panic. If you did not know him any better. Druig did not panic. “Come with me. We'll watch over them together." He reached for you again. 

You shook your head, trying to shake the smoke from your scratching throat and the tears from your eyes. 

Couldn’t he see this was tearing you in two? Splitting you to the bone? 

"That -- that's not our purpose, Dru. It's -- it's perversion. Our duty is sacrosanct, our gifts from Arishem himself, and you mean to use yours to corrupt that duty. To corrupt your purpose. Corrupt them. Corrupt us."

Druig's eyes flashed, a licking, complex damasque of anger, heat and betrayal.

"Is that what you would think of me, my love?" He spat the last word, carefully avoiding meeting your eyeline where he could see the glimmer of tears forming along your lashes. Better to look above you, to look down upon you. Through haughty eyes and the slope of angular cheekbones. “So powerful as to destroy even us? Can you not see that the purpose you speak so highly of is flawed? That perhaps we can do more?”  

"I don't know what to think, Dru," you whispered, stepping forward and reaching for him this time, for his palm, yours outstretched. “I -- I’m so confused.” 

As your fingers grazed his hand, he yanked it away, perhaps more violently than you had done moments before. As though your touch were as cutting as one of your arrows, laden with weighted, creeping poison.

"But,” you implored again, ignoring the rush of hurt his actions had wrought, “I know you're not right all of the time. None of us are. We're not perfect -- how can you say you're fit to do this? That you know what's best?”

"We know more than they do. They’re feeble, flawed – but I can keep them safe! We can keep them safe,” he pressed, noting the way your hand was still seeking his.  

You gazed upon Druig’s features, twisted now with the heated passion of his speech, awash in the darkness of the night sky and the shadows war rumbling around him; his eyes flashing a blue-grey, a troubled sea roiling in a storm. A painfully unfamiliar mask comprised of features you once recognized. Intimately. 

How unlike the usually cool, impassive face of the man you had come to love. 

“We can’t,” you murmured, your eyes meeting Druig’s once more. “I can’t. We should stick with the others – we cannot walk this world alone.”

Druig scoffed, but before he could berate the others whom you would choose to stay with over him – Ikaris, with his bullheaded, proud devotion to Arishem; Ajak with her secrets, her unyielding sense of purpose; Kingo, the Apollo to your Artemis, whose sunny disposition you would never wish to be parted from -- and how he would follow Ajak and Iakris both to the end; Sersi, too delicate to stand up to anyone  – you broke him with your words, again.

“With or without the others, with or without you, I will guard these people, love them. But I won’t control them. We are not gods.”

“You’ve been talking to Kingo –” 

“No, Dru. They deserve their freedom -- freedom to choose, freedom to love ...” you trailed, finally capturing Druig’s fingers in your own, stepping into his space and bringing your hand to delicately graze the peak of his cheekbone. His hand atop yours, destined to follow yours in its journey, mapping the familiar landscape of his own face through the beauty of your hands.  

Druig tilted his head down toward yours, his lips mere centimeters from meeting yours, foreheads not-quite brushing -- a gesture still so tender, even in absence of actual touch. Your affection had always had an atmosphere, an orbit. 

“Even the freedom to hurt? When I could prevent it?” He murmured to you, eyes downcast to your lips, your gaze upon the fan of his lashes. 

“Yes, love, even that," you sighed, shaking your head softly. 

“And what of your freedom? Do you not choose to love me?” Druig lifted his hand away from its place atop yours, a cool breeze caressing the backs of your fingers in the absence of his touch. 

He trailed his fingers to you now, mirroring the path your touch had taken, this time upon your own face. Cupping your jaw gently. The two of you now locked in a crescent moon’s embrace, arced and amorous, but not quite complete. Not quite whole. 

“I have no choice but to love you,” you whispered into his lips, “for I fear I wouldn’t recognize myself without the pieces that belong to you. You are everything to me. Of the gifts this eternal life has given me, I could thank Arishem for you each day, and still not have enough time to express my gratitude. For you, for Makkari, for the pearls of love this life has bestowed,” you paused to catch your breath. Were you really about to deny him once more? “But, Dru, this is wrong. We cannot leave the others, cannot abandon our purpose to protect, as we have been asked. You cannot leave us.” 

You tore your gaze from your beloved’s, the tears you had fought so hard to cage now slipping freely down your cheeks, gliding coolly over the corners of your downturned mouth. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Druig’s face fall, as his shoulders set. A pillar of resolute sadness. You could feel his tension; the climbing heat within him at your stubbornness. 

Your mind was moving a mile a minute. The world fell into a wash of white-noised nothingness, the army of those men Druig had bewitched stood, unnaturally silently around you. 

Everything around you was fading, as your thoughts flitted from scenario to scenario, through doubt and distrust, before finally – a previously-unfelt rosy calm washed its way into your mind, settling and easing, soothing you --

Was this plan really so bad? Could it really be so bad? When had Druig ever steered you wrong? It was reasonable, wasn’t it? There was so much you didn’t know, and Druig would be there to guide you, as he had promised he would be. Together in all things, with Druig, Druig, Druig … 

The pleasant haze of your thoughts was rudely interrupted by a sharp, puncturing arrow of doubt within yourself, an uncomfortable prodding and wriggling sensation through your brain, deflating the rosy cloud as you met Druig’s eyes -- 

– Only to discover they were unfocused, far-seeing, golden. 

Suddenly, you were awash in white heat, blue flames tearing their way through your body as you realized what he was doing. Rage.

“How dare you?” You bellowed, stepping forward and shoving Druig by the shoulders. “You think you can control me, as you control them? You really think so little of me, that you can alter my ‘feeble’ mind? I won't be what you say because you say it!” 

You gripped his wrist, squeezing, so that he might feel the weight of your words. You had never truly raised a hand against him before; even when the two of you were training together, you had always pulled your punches. But this? You were livid with him now. And you knew that Druig would be defensive, in turn.

His mind was racing, full of memory, of that night outside of the city – your keystone moment of passion. A core memory.

Remember this love, for surely you would never feel anything like it again.

Of the night when perpetually-young lovers wrapped themselves in one another, awash in the heat of one another and the haze of summer. Druig’s lily skin burned alongside yours, bright and entirely incandescent, awash with the glow your attentions had wrought upon him. 

You had pulled Druig ever-closer, closer, closer to you, breathing his name into his ear as you moved together beneath gleaming heavens. A reverent whisper of your voice that made him feel entirely godlike. The rest of the world may as well have been made of tissue paper – transparent and prone to crumbling beneath the strength your love had imbued. 

To look at you, Druig knew the starshine clarity of your honest eyes would be the last thing he desired to see on this planet should he be forced to leave it.

But, but, but … he could not bring himself to meet them now, for the fear that yours would reflect only derision, revulsion at what he was about to do. He truly had savored that night. And other nights like it. And every moment of affection between then and now. Of shared orange slices and stolen moments in quiet corners. Spoiling, curdling in his mind through this disquiet. Through his cruel words. The quickest way to kill you was to poison your heart – the heart that loved him so. 

"So much for your love, then," Druig spat, his touch abandoning your face to peel your fingers from his, flinging your hand away from its rightful place along his skin. 

He would be finished with it all. Even if it meant being finished with you.

Druig turned on his heel, retreating into the forest with the people he had compelled at his back, their unnaturally-uniform steps marching in unison, in time with the heavy thudding of your heart. 

You watched him go, his form fading into the darkness, stealing your heart away and carrying it with him, ripping it from your chest and into the depths of the forest, forever with him --  though he didn't know it. Or if he did, it was not enough to make him turn around. To come back to you. You would forgive him already if he would just turn around. 

With every step Druig took away from you, you could feel your heart cracking. You opened your mouth to wail, release some of this pain that had suddenly washed over you at the reality that the other half of your soul was marching out of your life. But no sound escaped your lips. 

Instead, you fell to your knees, your intricately-woven dress that Druig had complimented mere hours before now dirtied, as you looked to the heavens, more tears soundlessly escaping down your cheeks.

Praying for Arishem to guide you. For no Eternal had died before, but this pain? Worse than pain of battle. This must be what death is, you thought. It wasn't a quick, clean end after which your soul would know peace. No. It was a serrated knife that sawed slowly, uncaringly through you with the cadence of departing footsteps, leaving you to bleed alone until nothing was left.  This was not something even Ajak could heal.

Makkari had found you then, stock-still on your knees, staring at the spot where Druig had vanished into the treeline. She had rested her head against your cheek, silent through your sobs.

Remember this pain; its burn unique. For surely, you would never burn so wholly from within again.

Promises, promises.

—

Now, your family had found you at your homestead in Guadalajara. On the outskirts of the city. 

Sersi, ever the gentle diplomat. Ikaris, the man intent on becoming king. And Kingo, the sunshine through the trees of your forest. And … Kingo’s delightfully human friend. 

Never they mind that you had built a life for yourself. That after Makkari had found you five hundred years ago and told you of Ajak’s parting words – “When we meet again, tell me what you’ve found…” that you had found a corner of the world with sunshine. With greenery. With bursting flavor and color. With the life you had always imagined you could have had if you had been born mortal on this planet. 

But without a partner.

Sersi and Ikaris had broken the news to you. Kingo there to soften the blow. Of Ajak. Of Gilgamesh. Of the Emergence. Of the true purpose of the Eternals on Earth. 

“So,” you mused, as they sat around your table, steaming mugs of freshly-brewed Mexican coffee before them. “Druig was right, after all. The design was flawed.” 

You looked up to meet Kingo’s eyes – his chocolate orbs melting into yours with soft, serene understanding. That you would mourn Ajak. That you would mourn the lives you had led, tainted by deceit. 

“No wonder we never remembered one another from Olympia,” you intoned, taking a sip. 

Your family urged you to pick up your bow. Whether the plan was to delay the Emergence, or to merely stave off the Deviants, you were needed, they had said. 

So, here you were, trudging behind your family, to where the others stood. Phastos, with hands ringed in gold, ready to create something to once more save humanity. Sprite, with her sharp wit and illusions. Thena, ever the stoic warrior, though never the same since she and Gilgamesh had left as she crumbled beneath the weight of her Mahd Wy’ry. And … him. 

"My beautiful, beautiful hunter," Druig purred when he met you, trailing a finger from one of your shoulders, over your collarbone, to the other, walking in a semi-circle around you to rest his chin on your shoulder, tilting his chin slightly so as to whisper to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Did you miss me?" The low, even hum reverberated from his mouth, straight through you.

The easy breeze of Druig’s lilting accent surrounded you, tickling your ears and pricking them with familiarity and warmth. 

And here, you hadn’t decided whether you had forgiven him, yet. 

You closed your eyes, letting the feelings the familiarity of his voice brought forth wash over you. 

"You are … you are -- insolent" you spluttered, “¡Atrevido!” 

Presumptuous. 

“So that’s a yes, then,” Druig smirked. “I missed you, mo shíorghrá.” 

You conjured an arrow that slipped between your index and middle finger, flipping him a rather rude gesture with the weapon of your own making as you stalked off, Kingo chuckling at your back. 

They had mentioned unearthing the Domo, of finding Makkari. And the sooner you had all started, the sooner it could end. 

One way or the other. 

Still, you couldn’t deny what it had made you feel – to see Druig again. And you’d had a feeling he had known it, too. If the flickering grin of his full lips had been any indication. The sunglasses were of no obstacle to you. For your hunter’s eyes knew his too well. That they danced behind the dark glass, ever teasing you.  

The return to the Domo had brought memories long-buried. Of days spent with the object of your affection (and current object of your avarice).

Of one memory in particular: 

You had smiled bashfully, wanly, eyes diverted downward as you lightly shove Druig's shoulder.

"Don't tease me, Dru," you chuckle. "It's unbecoming of a man of your particular ability."

Druig was silent as he brought his hand up to cup your chin, trailing his fingers along your jaw, light as the tickling of leaves that dance upon the wind as he traces his way down your neck and along the peaks of your collarbones, feeling the evenness of your breath beneath his fingertips.

"I do not tease, darling." His eyes locked with yours.

"What a shame," you countered, "sometimes unbecoming can be fun."

Druig pressed his fingers into their resting place along your collar, pressing his ardor firmly. How sobering his gaze could be -- as clear, cool and shocking as the river, wild in wintertime. 

"You can tell me what you feel, can't you, little one?" Druig broke his gaze from yours  to whisper in your ear, nuzzling the curve of his nose along the shell of your ear as he did so, feeling of warmth. 

"I…," you trailed, "you know what I feel for you. I won't stroke your ego."

"Perhaps I just like to hear you say it."

You sighed, relishing in the feel of Druig's lips near your ear, over your cheek, and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Who invented this as an expression of devotion, I wonder," you murmured, drawing back from Druig, your lips separating, noses still brushing.

"The kiss? Who knows. Maybe we did?"

"You cannot think us so important as to take ownership of every human development. That's … generous."

"Maybe it's innate, then," Druig pondered, his eyes gazing upon you as he propped his head in his hand. He did not need to render his eyes gold in order to determine that the gears in your mind were turning. He'd rather wait until you chose to share a fully-formed thought. How wondrous the conclusions of your mind could be.

"Is it innate to us because it is innate to humans? Or is it the other way around?" You wondered aloud. "Are we awakened knowing how we choose to express our love? Do we all recognize love once we've felt it, and are all drawn toward the same compulsion to express it?"

Druig barked a laugh.

"If you were human, perhaps you would have been a philosopher," he mused, reaching across to his night table to pour himself water from the pitcher that rested there.

You wrinkled your nose at the thought.

"I don't think so," you said. "I'm not suggesting you can't think properly out of doors, but I quite think I would prefer to contribute through the use of my hands."

"You don't give your mind nearly enough credit," he said, taking a drink, his eyes never leaving you over the rim of his cup. 

Sensing your protest, he continued, "I think I could be considered an expert on the subject." 

He had wrapped his arms around you then. 

Now, now that you had been reunited, and the plan unfolded (though you were still wary of Ikaris), Druig had stopped you on your way out of Phastos’ lab. Pleading you for a word. 

Ever unable to resist him, you acquiesced. Standing next to him beneath the cool light that emanated from the halls of the Domo. As it had all started. You hadn’t traded words with him in over five hundred years. And now you stood before him, the man you had given yourself to, bidding him to speak. To say anything that would ease the lashing pain that you had felt amidst the fires of war as he had marched his army of compelled men into the forest of the Amazon, and beyond your keen archer’s sight. 

“You know why I chose the forest, don’t you?” Druig asked.

You shrugged, cool and indifferent. 

“The convenience of proximity? Where they found you … Those were the same woods where we were all those years ago?” You queried, voice level. The “when you left” remained unspoken, removed from the end of your sentence; though, Druig didn’t need to be a mind reader to know it was there, hanging between the two of you. 

“Because, love, in all of Sprite’s stories, you were the goddess of the wood. The hunter. I know it’s where you would feel most at home,” Druig turned his head from you. “If you had ever decided to find me, to choose me, I wanted you to find a home. Someplace you would love, as you once loved me.”

You remained silent, mulling over Druig’s words. It was austere. Foreign, this silence between the two of you. And Druig’s revelation was an olive branch, of sorts, as well as a surprise to you. You had thought Druig would not want  to see you again after you had stayed behind. 

“Would you have let me?” You asked, “After everything? Choose you, I mean. Would you have welcomed me with open arms after we left one another alone in the fires of war?” 

Old habits die hard, and resentment is left to fester, filling your gut with rot. Corrosive. And the storms within his Druig’s beget flashing lightning when he looked at you, splitting you to your core and burning you from the inside out. 

Druig shuffled his feet, weighing his words before answering. 

“I think of that day by the lake often,” Druig admitted. “When our friendship was young. How much time has passed since. And now, here we are, at the end of all things on this planet. Before it was too late to say anything, I would tell you how I regretted leaving you that day. How I longed to reach for you. To tell you I was wrong. But only if you would hear it?” 

“I would hear it,” you murmured. “But, Dru, you weren’t wrong. You were right. I was wrong. About Arishem. About our purpose. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Tears welled in your eyes, your voice breaking over the admission you had weighed in your mind for centuries. 

“Thena would have a field day,” you sniffled. “Look at me, crying before a man.” 

Druig shushed you, turning to touch you at last, to cup your face in his warm palms, thumbs skating over the apex of your cheeks to wipe away the silent tears as they fell. You thought the world would end and you would waste away after millenia before feeling the tenderness of his trailing touch smoothing over your skin one last time. It was a revelation. A gift from whatever Celestial force was listening. 

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have you cry over this. I shouldn’t have asked you to choose. Between me and them, our family, the humans,” Druig softly brushed his lips to yours for a fleeting moment, as if to brush the surface anew. To wipe away the tears and leave the surface of your mouth with something pure. “You were right – we never were better than them. Look at us now. Can’t we both have been a tad right, and somewhat wrong?” 

You chuckled weakly through the breaking remnants of your emotion. 

“That would make us so remarkably normal wouldn’t it?”

They say lightning never strikes twice. Never to meet the same corner of earth, leaving it with an eruption of destruction and then bereft of feeling. But you knew that to be untrue, for the same feeling bloomed and burned within you every time Druig turned his gaze to you, flashing quickly through the gale. His eyes stormy, his affections quick and ferocious. Not for the first time, nor the last, would you say your beloved was so like lightning. 

And you found yourself awash in the amorous wave of feelings you had always felt with him. No matter how much time had passed. 

“I missed you, my hunter,” you folded your way into Druig’s arms, burying your head into his chest and allowing his arms to wrap around you. To hold you for a moment before the end of all things. “Now what do you say we save the world?” 

You pressed your hands to Druig’s chest, palms flat, pushing yourself from his embrace and tilting your chin up to look into his eyes, the wave of relief you had felt at Druig’s forgiveness replaced with mirth and the promise of a challenge, to do battle together again once more. 

“Think you can keep up with me, then?” You trailed a finger along his jaw to tweak his chin, spinning a conjured arrow at your side in the other hand. “We’ll see, amor.” 

Druig watched you walk away from him, ready to do battle. It was a welcome of some comfort, knowing that as he watched you walk away it was nothing like the way he had walked away from you 500 years ago. That you would be by his side as they combatted the Emergence.

You donned your armor once more, prepared to become the hunter once again.

Thread can be used to patch. Even your prior hurts. To right wrongs and make your picture whole again. If only you nudge them along a little, with willing fingers and strength of mind. 

— 

Ikaris’s betrayal was nothing less than heartbreak of the cruelest kind. As you prepared to merge to lend your power to Druig, the pain of Ikaris and Sprite’s defection were additional wounds on top of your already heavy heart. You had lost so much in such a short amount of time. 

And while you understood Kingo’s decision to leave rather than fight, you wouldn’t like and say it didn’t make you question which side of this debate that you were on. 

“You know you’re my favorite, dear Selene,” Kingo had smirked, bending down from his considerable height to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “And I’m glad you’re okay, after all this time. And that we’ve found each other again. But I can’t do this. Please don’t hate me.” 

And when Ikaris had shown up to disrupt the uni-mind and to stop Druig and Sersi? When he had flown down from on-high and tossed Druig away like he was nothing, you saw red. 

You had never conjured your arrows to fire at another Eternal before. Not with the intent to harm. But you refused to pull your punches now, as you took aim at Ikaris in the sky. Covering Makkari as she struck her blows. 

Ikaris flew over you, attempting to shoot your bow from your hands with the beams from his eyes. 

You worked quickly, wishing for Makkari’s power as you dodged, rolled and leapt away from the surges he fired at you. 

"Stop this Ikaris,” you shouted at him as you shot an arrow in the direction he was flying, grazing his shoulder as he zipped past. “This won't work!. A true leader is unselfish. You can’t do this," you pleaded.

"And what would you know of it?” Ikaris called back to you, “What would you know of how to lead?” He landed before you, squaring his shoulders. “You choose to spend all of your time with a man whose ability is telling others what to do and think. Hardly an unselfish leader."

Heated rage flooded your body at his mention, his insult, of Druig. Quickly, you drew, taking aim for Ikaris’ heart. 

“Hardly the same thing, and you know it. Stop this or I’ll stop you.” You anchored the string of your bow to your chin, ready to fire. “You may be able to fly, but I’ve always been faster.” 

Your distraction had worked, long enough for Makkari flit by you and to knock Ikaris from his feet, the two of you continuing to hold him at bay. 

As the battle waged on between Ikaris, the Deviant, the Eternals, Phastos’ uni-mind had worked once more to allow Sersi to freeze Tiamut. It was a victory that didn’t feel like a victory, for now you had lost Ikaris, as well. The weight of battle, of the endless conflict that you learned was responsible for advancing the universe, felt heavy on your shoulders, abridging your feelings of relief at having stopped Tiamut. Was this what Ajak felt during the entire millenia of her burdened leadership? 

The appearance of Druig making his way across the sand, had eased this bleak weight somewhat. As he embraced Makkari, embraced you, you felt the faint glimmer of what you might call hope. For if you were together, maybe you could use what you had learned to help other planets.  

To do something actually good. Together. 

—

Time heals all wounds. Who knew that better than beings who had been alive for millennia? Losing Ajak, Gilgamesh … even Ikaris … and now the others who had gone when you had only just met again. 

Perhaps this was your curse, to feel everything too deeply. Perhaps it was penance for having a power capable of taking lives. Ever trapped in your own head.

The ache that had taken residence in your chest since learning of Ajak's death rattled dully behind your heart. Not even the success of abating the Emergence, of once more helping humanity, could ease it. You had, after all, only recently come to terms with five hundred years of loneliness. 

But sitting wedged on a couch with the two who had become other parts of your soul would certainly help.

You munched on your pizza, seated on one end of the Ajak's couch with your thigh pressed into Makkari’s, Druig on her other side. Phastos's son, Jack, had presented you with a half of the orange he had absconded from the kitchen with, with Thena’s aid, as Phastos scolded Thena for conjuring her weapons near his child. 

“But dad!” Jack whined, “Artemis was showing me her bow-n-arrows earlier, and she and A-thena are so cool.” 

You shrugged from your place on the couch at Phastos’ swift, accusatory look, arching a brow. 

“Makkari made a good point, you know. He’s ten, P. I’ve been shooting arrows since the dawn of time. He could pick up a bow at ten," you called to him, not eager to leave your perch on the couch with your beloveds. Not when you had only just  been reunited.

At Jack’s eager look, Phastos sighed, weary, rubbing his temples. You all seemed determined to drive him to an early grave. 

“Oooh-kay. No babysitting with Auntie Thena or Auntie Artemis.” 

You rolled your eyes, a smile nevertheless making its way across your lips as you split the orange half Jack had given you into its preordained wedges and passing them to your partners. Your fingertips first brushing Makkari’s, as the sticky orange sweetness passed from your hand into hers, and then to Druig. You pressed the remaining wedge to your lips, winking at them and settling back into your seat, keen to relax before you all were to depart. 

And when that time had arrived, you and Druig traipsed through the tall grass to the Domo, his hand in yours, Makkari on your other side, pressing her warmth into your waist. 

Before your group had departed, you had pressed a kiss to Phastos’ cheek, bidding Ben and Jack goodbye. Giving Jack a hug, you surreptitiously passed him one of your golden arrows with a wink – the arrow was blunted of course. By the time Phastos noticed it and had his subsequent heart attack, you would be long gone. Far from Phastos’ delicate, spinning rings and anxious-parent wrath. 

You settled once more into the space of the Domo, Makkari breaking off from the two of you to make her way to Phastos’ lab and her collection of treasures – some of which you had definitely, legally, helped her obtain. Never anyone mind. 

As you made your way down the hall, you brushed your fingertips over the corner with the tallied etchings of yours and Kingo's not-competition, a mild pang of sadness accompanying the ache in your chest.

You had wished Kingo was there to tell you goodbye. The Apollo to your Artemis, bidding you on your way with a sunshine smile and a wish for luck.

You and Druig made your way to his chamber, the room where you had spent so much time together, debating and discussing humanity, spirituality. Where you had discovered more about yourselves and one another. Where Druig had expressed his love for you time and again. 

You made to cross the room and settle yourself amongst Druig’s collection of pillows, as you had done countless times over the course of your years together. Never missing a beat at making yourself at home, no matter how much time had passed. 

“Wait,” Druig caught your wrist. “I have something for you.” 

“Oh?” You turned into his arms. “Was it this?” Fluidly shifting to the tips of your toes, you pressed a kiss to Druig’s lips, capturing his lower lip between your full ones and sucking lightly. Druig sighed softly into the kiss, his grip on your wrist tightening. 

Druig broke from you, looking down his prominent cheekbones at your countenance, his eyes flitting between yours and your sinful mouth. 

“Temptress,” he purred. The washing waves of his cerulean eyes reflecting his internal debate – to give you your gift, or to kiss you again? Five hundred years was so long a time to make up for.

The latter won out as he struck like a snake, decisive and agile, fastening his lips to the base of your jaw and trailing them down the elegant plane of your neck, tilting your head back as you groaned at his attention. The vibration from your throat a pleasant hum against his full lips. 

"Druig,” you sighed, “We've been alive for thousands of years … Helped nearly every conceivable language develop, and yet …” 

At the feeling of Druig's warm lips pressing firmly into the column of your throat, trailing down to kiss along your collarbones peeking through the soft collar of your shirt. The feeling of your voice reverberating beneath his attention as you graced him with your affectations, drowning one another in your mutual ardor, you found the will to speak.

"... Yet I'm not sure words still yet exist that would adequately convey the depth of my emotion, my feeling for you. But I can show you." You wound your fingers through Druig's soft hair, tugging lightly to break him away from your neck and bringing his eyeline back to yours. 

You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love.

Druig's crystalline eyes sparkled, a dizzying oceanic effect that made you feel as though the world had turned upside down -- for, surely, stars did not shine during the blue-skyed daytime. Or perhaps they did, as evidenced by the mischievous, adoring, cerulean gaze of the man before you.

"Show me?” At your nod, Druig understood. “So you would surrender control to me, my little hunter?" Druig murmured, his voice suggestive, a warm and pleasing bolt of silk against your skin.

The idea was a heady one, leaving you feeling drunker with power as the moments passed. Ironic, really. Everything was a bantering game between you and Druig, a display of companionable, bursting power met in equity. You, a marksman of singular focus; he, a man with a mind that was able to bend others to his will. 

The thought that you, the most powerful being he knew, would surrender yourself, the most secret corners of your mind, to him was enough to make him weak in the knees. And he was supposed to be the one with unsurpassed will. 

A promise to give him the thing he had tried to take before your separation all those years ago – the thing that tore you apart, to willingly allow him to use his power on you. The magnitude of your assent was not lost on him. 

Druig’s fingers skated along your arms, down your sides, to rest at your waist, his eyes never leaving your form as your eyes fluttered closed at his touch. 

You disentangled your fingers from Druig’s hair to bring a hand to grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger, nuzzling his nose with your own before trailing down to brush his lips with yours once more. The petal-like trace of your lips along Druig’s jaw whispered the long-held truth of your devotions into his skin. 

“You don't need your tricks for me to bend to your will,” you murmured, your lips brushing the skin of Druig’s cheek, “I'll bend however you like.”

A rumble emanated from your love at your proclamation. A subtle purring from Druig’s chest at your promise. 

“You don’t trust me, little hunter?” Druig murmured. “Trust that I know your mind … your body? Hm?” Druig’s hands slid from your waist, down your curves.

Druig guided you down to lie back on the pillows you had been heading for before, shedding his leather jacket as he went and allowing it to drop to the floor with an unceremonious, soft thump. 

Druig turned his attention to you. The stylishly torn jeans and simple, soft tee you had tucked into them were nothing but a nuisance to Druig now. Though you were delightfully beautiful in your modern garb, it was an obstacle to be absconded with as he became a man of singular focus. At the promise of what was to come; of what you would allow.

You reached for your beloved, allowing him to fold his body over yours as your lips met once more. Druig trailed his hands to your waist, where you swore you could feel his fingertips burning through the soft material of your shirt. 

You thanked whatever deity was listening for allowing you to feel this way again. 

Memories of your night together outside of the walls of Babylon flashed in your mind as Druig tugged your shirt from your waist and up, over your head, cradling the back of your neck as he did so. Always tender, courteous. 

The winking promise of mischief danced behind your hooded eyes as you looked up at your beloved from his place above you, a soft smile gracing your lips. His cheeky little hunter. Fox-like in disposition, quick and intuitive. True to your nature, you struck, shedding Druig’s shirt with quick, lithe fingers, and baring the pale canvas of his skin to you. 

As you made for the button of his jeans next, Druig caught your wrists. His grip firm, but not punishing, he leveled you with a glare you could only describe as warning. Guiding you back once more, Druig hovered over you, like waves returning at the turn of the tide, rushing and momentous. 

Druig squeezed your wrists before releasing them, allowing his hands to map the skin of your arms, your torso, reveling in the feel of you beneath his fingertips, every plane and prickling goosebump that awoke at his touch. 

The rasp of his skin along yours was something both you and he had thought you may never hear again, never feel again; and now that you had, you wouldn’t relinquish them so easily. And nor, it seemed, would he. 

He leaned forward, kissing his way down your neck, your chest, unclasping your bra and trailing his lips and hands down your torso before you knew what had happened. Your eyes fluttered closed at Druig’s affections, his touch ever-present and bordering on overwhelming as the honey-heat burning between your two bodies climbed, washing through the rest of the room. Druig’s attentions trailed golden lines of heat along your skin, sending sparks of starry champagne bubbling their way through you. 

You pulled Druig closer to you, winding your arms around him and bringing your legs up around either side of his waist, lacing your fingers along the back of his neck and threading your way through his hair, tugging lightly to bring him back to your eye-level.

You captured his lips with yours once more, nipping a teasing bite into his plush lower lip, delighting in the flush of the blood beneath the skin of his lips as a result of your attention. That his body still reacted to yours. You tugged again at his hair, causing him to groan into your mouth before breaking yours away. 

“I trust you, my love,” you hummed. Druig’s fingers teasing their way ever-closer to your center as you tugged his hair, the two of you panting into one another’s mouths. “You have my body. You can have my mind.”

At your declaration, Druig pressed his lips once more to yours, grinning wolfishly into his kiss. With no more preamble, the sky blue of his eyes bled gold, your beloved now nestling himself in the warmth of your mind, not unlike how he had in your body time and again throughout your centuries together. 

This was nothing like the time before in Tenochtitlan when he had tried to encourage you to leave with him. Then, your mind had been battered with conflict. Tormented with your inability to mend the fractures in your family, to soothe the ache wrought by their warring beliefs. A stormy sea frothing and roiling. Trying to appease him.

Now, your mind was balm. It was smooth, drifting snow. Crisp and even, as you gave yourself over to your beloved. It was the shining sky during a winter’s night – clear and bright, despite the surrounding dark. Every star alive, and all was shimmering lavender.

Another night in the sway of the flower moon.

Druig was awash in the warmth, the romance of your mind. The gold of his eyes was reflective of the rosy gold of your amorous thoughts, of your suit, of you. He could die happy amidst the loving, blushed hue that surrounded you every time you looked at him, thought of him, of your past, of your reunion, of your future. 

Every bit of the impulsive, pure love of Romeo and Juliet, none of the tragedy. Not anymore. You were besotted with him, amorous in the deepest sense, sure as the moon hangs in the night sky. 

Druig’s kisses were pure, like lake water. Blue-green and brisk, drowning you in its depths. A stark contrast to the heat of the room, yet, ironically, the cause and the symptom of said heat. His aura -- strength and subtle amusement, so like derision -- a tinge of cockiness… you supposed these things came from the ability to know the depths of a mind, to control it if he so saw fit. 

He would do anything you asked, because you asked it. And so, it seemed, would you … but only for him.

"Lie still, my love," Druig bid, your legs dropping from their place around his waist as he pulled back to kick off his boots and the remaining articles of his clothing.

You watched your beloved bare himself to you from behind the honey haze of Druig's influence that clouded your eyes. He leaned over you again, hooking his fingers in the belt loops of your jeans to tug you down the mass of blankets and pillows to meet his body, slotting yourselves gently together.

Reverent was the only way to describe the way he was looking at you now, trailing his fingers along your torso to pop the buttons of your jeans.

"Will you undress for me, Selene?" Druig's voice was everywhere. Inside your mind, in your ears, echoing in your mouth like the taste of copper.

You did as Druig bid, your hands following the familiar lines of your body through the strange filter of your love's mind. Rendering your own touch foreign to you, get familiar all at once. 

What a strange dichotomy, your mind whispered to you from somewhere far away. 

"Isn't it nice like this?" Druig breathed, "So … compliant."

Your head was buzzing, full of warm pleasant thoughts that hadn't been there before, thoughts of touching yourself, of trailing your fingertips along your breasts, across the plains and valleys of your body. Of sliding them through your now-damp folds. 

You could distantly hear yourself, sighing in pleased gasps at the touch that was yours, but also not-yours.

Druig felt himself harden as he knelt before you, over you. He had dreamt of you nearly every night for centuries. He wouldn't let slip the opportunity to touch you, to make his dreams a reality. 

That he could make yourself touch you in all the ways he had dreamt … that you wanted him to. He could feel, hear your assent, pleasant in your thoughts.

He watched and dictated as you slid a finger inside of yourself, swearing he could feel the warmth of your core as it registered in your own mind at your touch, as you teased your own body. First one finger, then another, slick building. Swearing that he could register the heat climbing through you, as though it was his own, as you fucked yourself on your own fingers, hips rolling to meet your touch.

“Feel your way,” Druig coaxed, his hands sliding along your thighs. 

A keening moan tore it's way through you at his words. When had your other hand cupped your breast? The rolling of your nipple by your teasing, plucking fingertips was like kindling to the fire building within you.

Was it your own idea, or was it Druig's, that had you withdrawing your fingers from your center, sliding the wetness gathered there along Druig's length, and pumping him slowly as he leaned over you. Overwhelming your senses. 

Your touch on his body. The taste of his kisses in your mouth. The sound of his groans in your ears. His thoughts melding with yours in a pleasant, burgundy haze that tasted vaguely warm and metallic.

Druig's touch replaced yours along your own body as he allowed you to continue toying with his. Willing you to touch him as he liked best, while he made to kiss you again, his fingers slipping down to glide through your soaked, heated folds before swirling over your clit. 

The heat in the room continued to climb as Druig played and plucked at your body. His grip on your mind began to slip as your collective pleasure climbed. You were coming back into your own mind, your own body as you were simultaneously inching closer to unraveling.

Even in his lovemaking, Druig couldn't resist cleverness and irony, it seemed.

You used your newfound faculties to release Druig from your grip, to pull him over you, his body dwarfing yours. To tug him closer, closed, closer to where you wanted him. Druig's fingers continued to toy with you, fingers curling inside of you as his thumb delicately traced and pressed against your clit. You wiggled your hips, desperate for more, wrapping your legs once more around Druig's tapered waist. 

"Please," you gasped, eyes locked with his molten ones, swirling like melting ice in the heat of your passion.

You gripped Druig's arms, scratching at his shoulders, his biceps, his back, everything you could reach as you felt yourself inching ever-closer to your peak.

Druig could feel that you were getting closer at his hands. Could feel the way you clenched. The way you throbbed around his fingers. Could feel the ache in your body as he toyed with it, and with your mind. The way you bucked your hips into his hands.

"Will you tell me what you want, my little hunter?" Druig teased from his position stop you, leaning into your space to whisper hotly into your ear. "I'll do what you ask," he parroted your words from earlier.

"Please, Dru, w-want this -- w-want you," you whimpered, a broken moan cracking it's way through the end of your plea at a particularly, deliciously cruel curl of Druig's fingers inside of you.

"Of course, love," his tone would have been cruel, would have been mocking, if you hadn't known that was all part of his little game. You rolled your hips again at his tone, willing him to do something now.

Even if he wasn't capable of reading your thoughts, the intention would have been enough.

Druig slid his fingers from your core, causing you to emit another broken whine, this time at the loss.

Quick as a flash, he lightly swatted your thigh.

You yelped, meeting his haughty eyes with a glare of your own. 

"Don't be insolent, hunter," Druig rumbled, inclining to press his front to yours more fully, bringing a hand to your throat and pressing lightly along it's column as he hissed into your ear, "Little girls who whine don't get what they want. I won’t help the ache you feel if you aren’t nice."

"Please, my love," you urged again, sweetly, sweetly. 

Druig chuckled darkly, nodding as he lined himself up with your center, hand still wrapped loosely around your throat as he surged into you. 

And oh. The throbbing emptiness you had felt without him was almost worth it if it meant you could feel so full, so whole, now.

You gasped into Druig's mouth, pleased with the groan he emitted in turn at being once more inside of you. Ever-haughty.

He met your lips with a nipping bite as he began to thrust into you, your hips rocking to meet him in kind. At this rate you were certain your lips and throat would feel the sting of his teeth, of his grip, for days. A blooming feeling rushed through you at the thought, the flickers blending into your pleasure.

Everything was swirling. White, fogged glass like looking out at a winter snowstorm.  Blinding, stark pleasure building within you both.

"Missed you, Selene," Druig whimpered, his moans becoming slurred as he rocked harder, rougher into you. His needs outweighing the control he prided himself on.

Druig relinquished his grip on your throat to rub once more at your clit. 

You knew Druig wouldn't last much longer if the cadence of his thrusts, his gasps, was any indication. You had wanted to take more time to mark him, to make him yours. A swath of purpling blooms growing along the expanse of Druig’s pale skin beneath your lips, blossoming beneath your attentions in equal parts pleasure and pain as you toyed with him in perpetuity.

The thought was enough to spur you forward, ever-closer to your peak. You settled for gripping, scratching at Druig's back, causing him to groan. Your touch on his body, your hands -- so very wanted.

Your orgasm washed over you at a particularly clever thrum of Druig's fingers, rolling your hips against him to ride out your high, clenching and releasing as Druig followed after you with a drawn-out groan.

You took in the sight of your beloved, delightfully open and so removed from his usually stoic demeanor in moments like this. Just as you remembered. He was panting lightly, skin flushed and lightly glistening with the sweat from your encounter, eyes starry and far-seeing.

He was beautiful. Like this, yes. But ever-so. And he was yours.

You pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of Druig's mouth as he withdrew from you, the two of you in no hurry to disentangle, but gently righting yourselves.

"I missed you too, my love," you said softly, trailing your fingers over the peak of his cheekbone. "I don't wish to be parted from you."

You don't know how long the two of you lay together, enjoying the feeling of the other's body pressed into them, of even and serene breathing. Perhaps the two of you had even drifted off, dreaming of the promise of a true eternity together.

When you were ready to emerge, the two of you had dressed, orienting yourselves before going to find the others. Druig had arranged his jacket once more over his shoulders. He crossed the room to you, standing over you and pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and once more allowing himself to feel your presence alongside his. 

You leaned into his touch. Allowing yourself to greedily bask in this moment. No matter how many moments your long life had graced you with, few had carried this magnitude. Few had made you feel as safe, as wanted, as you did with the man before you know. 

"I love you, Druig," you speak plainly, firmly. No quaver of doubt in your voice.

At that, Druig broke from you softly. Digging into the pocket of his leather jacket for the gift from before, shoulders flexing beneath the fabric as he withdrew his hand from the pocket.

His palm upturned, revealing the gift he had been keeping for you for centuries. In the hopes that he might see you again to give it to you. 

“You mean more to me than their silver and gold. But if this is how I can show my love on this planet, I'll do it." 

With that, Druig slid a delicate rose gold band onto your finger, causing you to smile warmly at him, at the symbol of his eternal bond to you. 

“I wonder who invented this as a gesture of devotion,” you had mused. 

The memory, which had taken place in this very room, clearly prominent between the two of you. The symbol, reminiscent. 

“It is beautiful, Dru. But you know I don’t need objects to reflect or accept your love,” you affirmed. “It is enough to be with you. By your side. To receive your warmth.”

With that, you slid your arms across Druig’s shoulders, divesting him of the leather jacket so quickly he would have thought he had imagined it had it not been for the cool air biting the now-bare skin of his arms. 

“So much for not needing an object,” Druig chuckled, bumping his shoulder into yours. 

You slipped Druig’s jacket over your shoulders, Druig’s body heat soaking into your skin like the radiance of the sun through the silky lining of the jacket, the zippers at the cuffs clinking as you adjusted the garment to your form. 

“What?” You shrugged at Druig’s look of mild surprise. “I said I’d like your warmth. What are you going to do? Fight me for it?” You challenged, arching your brow at him as a golden arrow weaved its way between your fingers, tapping it against Druig’s thigh in playful, mock-warning.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mo shíorghrá,” Druig chuckled. “Keep it. ‘T looks better on you anyway.” He slid a companionable arm over your shoulders as the two of you made to leave the room and find the others. 

“We can agree to disagree on that, but I’ll hang onto the jacket until a quorum is reached,” you teased, bumping your hip against Druig’s as you walked in tandem down the hall of the Domo toward Phastos’ lab where you could hear Makkari sorting through a pile of what sounded like books.

“Benevolent of you, really,” Druig pressed a kiss into your cheek, brushing his nose across the prominent bone there. “Suppose we have time to decide.”

As you made your way into the cool light of the lab, Makkari greeted you, placing her warm hands in yours. You wrapped your arms around her, delighted in your reunion now that you all could breathe and enjoy one another’s company again, departing on another adventure. Together.

The next thread warping its way through the loom of your lives. To and fro, to and fro. Together you remain, body and soul. 

–--

Tagging: @aphrogeneias @luxurybeskar @youhavemysaber @thematthewmurdock @inklore @joannasteez @blessedboo @cinewhore @superhoeva @themarcusmoreno @vaxxildan @justanotherblonde23 @spoopyredacted @ifimayhaveaword @phoenixhalliwell @forever-rogue @cryptidcody @noturjacky @flightlessangelwings @bendro-pascarnes @pettyprocrastination @agirllovespaghetti @jenrebloggingfics @steeeeeeeviebb-deactivated20220 @imogenswitchbolt @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @artsymaddie @wvndasmaximoff @moonlight-prose @cryinginsanity @miss-me-jack @xthenewgurlintown @calsjack @raegansthings @acciosiriusblack @druigsgold​ 

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - PART 8! (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Mentions of sex. Nudity. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: PG-13 (ish?) (but other parts are very NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 4994

A/N: Our Reader is feeling it, y'all! I am, too! Getting into the right headspace for this part was tricky for whatever reason, and it's a bit long, so thanks for your patience. I wanted to get a bit more backstory in there, so hopefully the flashback scene works well. And a little Young!Elvis doesn't hurt anyone, right? I also couldn't help myself and HAD to include the detail about his stutter because I just keep finding all these deliciously real and human parts of him that make him such a rich, full person/character, so forgive me my indulgence!

To all the babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments mean the absolute WORLD to me. Finding out that some of y'all are liking it enough to be reading it MULTIPLE times blows my freakin' mind. Like whaat?! This story (and EP) has taken over my heart and soul, so for those of you still with me, and to all the newcomers, I'm sending you all the love! And I promise there's more good stuff coming ahead, complete with more smut, angst, and tension.

I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks since now I know how they work lol)! I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues.

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 

1957

“So, I hear you’re gonna make an honest man out of our Jacky Boy.”

You look up from your seated spot on the cool grass, Elvis’ tall frame lording over you in the dark of this humid midsummer night and you smile.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you blush happily, playing with the small, simple diamond that now adorns the ring finger of your left hand. It’s not much, but it’s yours. You can barely stop staring at it, you are so excited.

Elvis folds himself down next to you on the lawn, his long limbs a little less lanky than they used to be. A couple of years of being well-fed after a lifetime of poverty has done him well. He looks good, albeit tired. Hollywood and fame have certainly made him more beautiful, his resting face now always looking like it’s ready for a close-up, but the lightness that used to surround him is a little heavier, a little darker now, like he has the world resting on his shoulders.

He turns his head to really look at you, taking you in. It’s a look that might’ve made you self-conscious at any other time, but it’s dark and you’re too distracted by your engagement ring to really notice. “You happy, doll?” he asks, but answers it himself, “You look happy.”

You can’t stop smiling. “Yes, I’m most certainly happy,” you reassure him.

“Good,” he nods as if this has satisfied him in some way. Then he leans back, laying down in the grass, and stares up at the stars. That look comes over him again, the heavy one. It worries you a little. He’s been gone so much lately, and things have been moving so quickly for him, you’ve barely had a moment to talk in what feels like forever.

“How ‘bout you, E, are you happy?” you ask quietly, looking down at him.

He is silent at first, and you almost don’t catch the sigh he lets out before speaking, “I ain’t got nothing to be unhappy about, baby. All my dreams are coming true.” He says it almost as though he’s trying to convince himself of it. He doesn’t look at you, instead focusing all his attention on the sky.

“You didn’t really answer the question,” you say gently.

He finally looks over at you, those big blue eyes of his exhausted, rimmed with dark circles. “It’s all been moving so fast, I barely got time to catch my breath. I’m constantly around people, but sometimes I feel so lonely, y/n…and Hollywood ain’t all it’s cracked up to b-be,” he says quickly, but in a whisper, as though he’s terrified to be overheard.

You open your mouth to speak, but he rushes to continue: “And I don’t w-w-wanna seem ungrateful or nothin’ b-b-b-because I-I-I am gettin’ to do what I love to do and I’m supportin’ my family and it makes lots of folks happy, and God’s b-b-blessed me with that…b-b-but so many people hate me, makin’ it their mission to misunderstand me and they don’t even know me.” He takes a deep shuddering breath, frustrated and trying to get the words out.

You know he’s emotional and tired because his stutter keeps getting in his way as he tries to speak. Most people don’t even know he has one because it doesn’t happen when he sings, and he sure as hell doesn’t let it stop him from doing what he wants to do, but you’ve heard it pop up now and again in conversation over the years, usually with nerves or when he’s “excited,” as he calls it. He told you how he thought he’d blown his initial screen test in Hollywood because of it, because he was so nervous that he couldn’t get the words to come out like he needed them to. Luckily, he said the director liked it and even said it made his acting seem more genuine. You find it endearing because it’s a very real part of him and his humanity, which you think is something much needed when the world is striving to make him a commodity. It still makes him a little self-conscious, though, so you don’t rush him or react, you just wait for him to continue.

 “Sometimes I-I feel like I’m b-b-being pulled in a dozen different directions, all at o-once. I-I-I constantly feel like I’m tryin’ to prove myself. Sometimes it just gets to me, is all. So, to answer your question, yes, I am happy, but it sure comes with a price,” he pauses. “I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t’ve unloaded on you like that, today of all days,” he says, eyes now downcast and concerned.

“Don’t you feel sorry. I asked, and I’m glad you answered me truthfully. Seems like you needed to get that off your chest,” you say kindly, with a small smile. You hate to see him so weighed down. But you are pleased and surprised by him being so vulnerable with you. It makes you feel like you’ve got your friend back.

“You won’t go tellin’ no one, will ‘ya? Not even Jack,” he pleads, looking at you wide-eyed.

“Of course not, Elvis. I swear it,” you say seriously. You wouldn’t dream of betraying his trust.

He nods, relieved, and looks back up at the stars.

“I’m real proud of you, E, all of us are. It takes a special person to do what you do with the grace you do it with. God knows I couldn’t do it,” you say, suddenly feeling a little shy.

Elvis looks at you with surprise. “Thanks, y/n, that means a lot comin’ from you,” he says and the way his pretty eyes search your face sends a strange feeling through your body.

You don’t know what to say to that, so silence sits heavy, but not uncomfortably, between you.

Playing with your engagement ring, knees pulled into your chest, you look into the night sky.

“How’d ya know? That Jack’s the one?” he suddenly asks, out of nowhere.

The question both surprises and delights you. “Hmmm, well, let’s see,” you ponder. “He’s there when I need him. He makes me feel special, like the only girl in the world. I know he’ll always take care of me. He is mine and I am his. Sometimes I almost feel like we were made for each other, ya’ know, like we were meant to be,” you rattle off. “That may seem silly and saccharine and hopelessly romantic, but it’s true. So, I suppose that’s how I know I love him and want to spend the rest of my life with him,” you say, a giddy excitement running through you.

Elvis is quiet, his face unreadable. You’re not sure why, but you feel like you’ve said something to upset him.

“Why? You got a special girl or three, Mr. Presley?” you ask, in a faux-reporter voice, holding a pretend mic to his mouth to try and lighten the mood.

“Ha!” he scoffs with a laugh and a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, it must be so hard for you, to have thousands of beautiful girls to choose from, all clamoring for a piece of you,” you tease. You know he is dating quite a bit because he brings some of them home, whether from Hollywood or somewhere on the road. He always seems to be falling hard and fast for a new girl, but they never seem to last.

“No, there’s no one special I’m datin’,” he says, sitting up, intently playing with a blade of grass. “I mean, I’m seein’ lots of nice girls, great girls, even. It’s just…none of them’s the one.”

You are a little taken aback by his honest answer. “Well, you can’t force it, E. You’ll know when it’s right,” you say, patting his hand.

Elvis looks down sharply at your hand on his, almost like it’s burned him. “Yeah, I reckon I will,” he says, looking back up at you, his face unreadable once more. He’s gotten too good at that in Hollywood, you think, shutting the vulnerable parts of himself off from an untrustworthy world.

For the second time this night, silence hangs over you. This time it feels charged, but by what you do not know. You can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

“You gettin’ enough sleep, E?” His moodiness has always been worse when he’s tired.

“Oh, you know me, doll. I was barely sleeping before all this and now I sleep even less,” he replies. “There’s too much to do and I got all this-this crazy energy, ya know?” He wiggles his limbs, exaggerating. You can’t help but laugh.

But your laughter dies out quickly. “Seriously, Elvis, promise me you’ll at least try to get some rest while you’re home. It worries me to think you’re running yourself ragged.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything, as if he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t keep. Instead, he abruptly changes the subject.

“C-c-congratulations, y/n. Jack’s a lucky guy and I-I’m glad you’re happy. You—you both—deserve all the happiness,” Elvis says, his gaze kind but guarded. Then, unexpectedly, he leans over and presses his lips softly to your cheek. They are warm and plush against your skin, lingering there for just a moment too long. Your breath catches and you can feel heat blossom through your body and into your cheeks in a way that surprises you.

Then, just like that, he pulls away, getting up and brushing himself off, like nothing happened. He holds his hand out to you to help you up off the ground. “We should get back,” he says.

You blink rapidly, trying to process the last few moments. You are glad the darkness hides the red on your cheeks. Elvis seems unaffected, so you take his hand and let him help you up. You chalk whatever strangeness that has happened up to Elvis being exhausted, pushing whatever silly, fleeting thoughts you have far, far away.

*

The long-buried memory hits you hard as you stand at the door to Elvis’ bedroom, poised to knock. You’ve spent all night in anticipation of this moment, excited and nervous about whatever comes next, but this memory shakes you, knocking something loose in your brain. Something you had forgotten until just now.

You are trying to grasp it, the thing that is niggling at the corners of your mind, but before you can lock on to whatever it is, the door swings open, startling you. You didn’t remember knocking—it’s like Elvis just knew you were there.

And immediately everything else is forgotten because the tantalizing smell of him wafts over you, and your heart starts to pitter patter in your chest because he’s just so beautiful, and the brilliance of his light blue, dark-rimmed eyes nearly knocks you over.

Elvis pulls you in to the room quickly, trying to avoid any possible prying eyes, shutting the door quietly. The light is much dimmer in here and it’s silent, save for the sound of your breathing. He is so, so close, his eyes travelling over your body approvingly. His eyes ignite flames within you wherever they linger.

“I knew you’d be a showstopper in this, baby. And the tan is a nice touch,” he says, smiling coyly, running a finger down your bare arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

Words get lost in your throat because all you know is that you need him. So instead of words, you grasp his face and kiss him as if your life depends on it. You sense his surprise at your boldness in the way he tenses at first, but it takes only a second before his arms wrap around you, and those soft, pliant lips open to yours.

But the butterflies happening in your stomach now are different than the heat you’ve experienced when kissing him before and that surprises you. Scares you, even, because the heat and the sex make a certain kind of sense. It’s biological, you think, natural to be drawn to him. Everyone is drawn to him. What you’ve already shared physically, what he is teaching you about pleasure, is addicting—you want more. Of course, you do. But what’s happening to you now is more than that, as much as you want to push it away and deny it.

You pull back from him slowly, his lips chasing yours with another gentle kiss. Your eyes raise, meeting the endless blue of his, and you are caught there, drowning, as you try to understand the man he is now. You can’t help but think that these are the same eyes that looked upon you on the lawn of Graceland so many years ago. Reconciling that Elvis with this Elvis feels so utterly strange. So much life has happened between then and now, yet under it all, you can still see that sensitive young man, striving and eager for everything life has to offer.

“Well, hello to you, too, honey,” he says softly, searching your face, trying to gauge what is going on with you.

“Hi,” you breathe out, “I missed you.” It just falls out of your mouth, a truth you aren’t sure you should reveal, but it’s too late now. It feels silly—you saw him less than 24 hours ago, but it feels like a lifetime.

This pleases him, his mouth turning up in a small smile. “I missed you, too,” he replies, giving you another soft kiss.

This invokes your own smile, a shy one. Your stomach continues to flutter like a schoolgirl’s.

He pulls you into the room, your hand small in his, the Vegas skyline bright outside the huge windows. To think, just a few nights ago, you stood in this very spot, furious and ripping him a new one for ruining your life. Feels like a million years ago now.

Elvis is barefoot, wearing a set of satiny deep blue pajamas, which somehow, even though they are sleepwear, still flatter him. You suddenly feel quite overdressed. You’re not sure what he has in store for you because his countenance doesn’t quite match the sexual fire from when he dominated you on the couch and sent you to the stars last night, but he is somehow no less intense.

His fingers brush through the pink fringe of your top, feathering over the bare skin of your back as he moves around you to a box on top of the piano. Curious, you move with him, stopping as he lifts out a slip of a nightgown that matches his pajamas exactly. Your eyebrow quirks.

Setting it back down, he glides towards you, wrapping his arms around your back. “Let’s get you more comfortable,” he says, unzipping your top slowly, removing it, throwing it to the side. You shiver under his gaze, exposed in the lacy petal pink bra he bought you. He looks delighted that you are wearing it, though his gaze is still light and controlled, even though he is undressing you.

“Shoes,” he tuts, and you slip out of your heels, kicking them to the side. Your eagerness builds, the fluttering in your stomach wild and catching fire, but you let him guide you, as he seems wont to do.

He reaches around and unzips your skirt, pulling it gently over your hips and it falls in a heap at your feet. He hums and looks over you approvingly in your matching underwear, and the look alone has you weak in the knees. It’s criminal how handsome he is and what it does to you. Based on your previous encounters, you half expect him to take you right there, but he makes no move to do so. Your breath is shallow, your body on alert, waiting on pins and needles.

Next, moves in close, his fingers brushing up your spine. A shudder courses through you. He unhooks your bra, sliding it off you and placing it on top of the piano. You think for sure he will now devour you, but he waits.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Elvis whispers, taking in your figure and you suddenly feel shy under his adoring gaze. You resist the urge to cover yourself, your nipples standing at attention in the cool air. He doesn’t touch you (you desperately want him to), though you can see by the smoldering in his eyes he wants to, too. Instead, he hands you the nightie. “Put it on,” he requests, and while you are confused, you do as he asks. The expensive, silky softness drapes over you, hanging perfectly off your frame.

Nodding as though some requirement that is unknown to you has been fulfilled, he pulls you into him, kissing your forehead. His embrace is warm and comforting against the cold of the air conditioning and you wind your arms around his neck, fingers weaving into his fine hair. While there is heat growing in your belly for him, it is like glowing embers rather than an engulfing flame.

This feels different. And then you realize, it all feels so domestic.

The thought is jarring, yet not unwanted. You had assumed (rightly so) that he wanted you here so you could fuck all night long. But this, this is a decidedly different vibe to your uninterrupted night together. And while you are a bit confused and surprised by it, you are curious.

“Elvis,” you say quietly, without expectation, “what is this?”

A boyish grin spreads across his face, reminding you of the memory that blindsided you before, the one you still need to dissect. “I want all of you, not just a part of you,” he says, nuzzling your nose with his. It sends tingles down your arms. You’re not quite sure exactly what it means, but you get the gist that he wants more than sex from you and that is surprising.

Is it, though?

He pulls you up and onto the huge bed with him. You lean back against the pillows, the ornate headboard, and he turns to you, brushing flyaway hairs off your face. His crystalline eyes have an openness you haven’t seen in a long time, as though all the glitz and glamour of “Elvis” is stripped away and it’s truly just the man here in front of you.

“How was your day?” he asks.

It’s such a simple question, yet the fact that he asks it of you almost has you in tears. Perhaps it’s because until this moment you haven’t realized that it feels like no one has asked you that, or truly cared to, in a very long time. And the fact that it is coming from him, of all people, makes your heart simultaneously break and leap at the same time.

You clear your throat, pushing the emotion away. “I…uh, well, I went to the pool with Sandy. Hence the tan. She happened to be in the room when your gift arrived, though, so that was interesting to try and explain,” you say.

“And what did you tell her?” he asks, resting his head on his hand, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. You are distracted by them and almost forget what he asked.

“Um, I basically told her I couldn’t tell her anything. How could I? I mean, we haven’t really talked about…” you motion between you two, “us, this. I couldn’t very well talk to her about it before I talked to you.”

He smiles that crooked smile of his, the one that melts your heart. “And how did she take that?”

“Oh, she was disappointed but didn’t pry. As soon as she saw the underwear, though, she’s made it her mission to figure out who the mystery man is. She’s been my shadow all night. It’s gonna be hard to keep this from her for very long,” you say dismally.

He laughs. “You can tell her, honey,” he says.

This floors you. “What? But aren’t you afraid…I mean...?” you worry.

Elvis puts his hand on your cheek. “Baby, I wanna keep seein’ you, and I think you wanna keep seein’ me.” The way he says it sends warmth radiating through your chest. But that warmth is quickly chased by cold, pragmatic fear.

He continues, “And I know she’s your best friend and y’need someone y’can talk to. Jerry knows already, anyway. I’ll make sure she knows to be discreet.”

Your mouth opens then closes. To say you are flabbergasted by this response doesn’t quite describe what you are feeling. It’s a mixture of relief, surprise, elation, confusion, and terror, and what seems like a hundred other things, all at once.

If Sandy knows, it makes this all real. Too real. This was only supposed to be a one-time thing. A way to stick it to Jack. A way to take some power back. A way to quell the unbridled sexual tension that had grown between you and Elvis.

But now you feel wildly out of control. Mind-blowing sex with the ethereal man in front of you has morphed so quickly into a passion you didn’t expect that you feel like the air has been knocked from your lungs. The more you think about it and the more you remember, no matter how much you are shoving it away, you know that this was never going to be a one-time thing for Elvis. He knew it, too. The fact that you are here right now, like this, is proof. And you are not sure if that makes you elated or angry. Maybe it’s both.

This is too dangerous. Go back to Memphis and forget this ever happened.

Maybe that would have worked two nights ago, but the thought of leaving him now fills you with more despair than the anxiety of staying.

What happens if this all blows up in our faces? Because you think it will. You can feel the pressure building even now, though you aren’t sure to what end.

Elvis seems so utterly calm, so sure. You don’t know if this is because he lives in a world so above everyone that everything seems possible, like a strange naivety, or if he is just an optimist, but either way, you don’t know how to respond. You know you have to say something, though, because of the way he is looking at you, his eyes expectant and watchful.

“How? How are we gonna keep seeing each other, E? I go home tomorrow. And what about Jack?” you say in a whisper, all your emotions caving in on you at once. Tears spring to your eyes, which is not at all what you want or expect, and you are mad at yourself for ruining the mood.

“Hey, hey now, darlin’,” Elvis says with concern, sitting up and taking your face in his hands. “Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry. I got it all figured out. I’ll take care of you, honey,” he reassures you. He kisses your tears as they fall down your cheeks, his lips soft and warm.

Then, unexpectedly, he leans over and presses his lips softly to your cheek. They are warm and plush against your skin, lingering there for just a moment too long.

The memory flashes back to you, startling you as the past and present meld together.

He kissed you then much like he’s kissing you now. You pull back and look at him with wide eyes.

“Baby, y’look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” he asks, eyes searching your face.

So many seeds have taken root, blossoming in your mind. (Or maybe they’ve always been fully bloomed, and I just never saw them.) You shake your head. Your heart is beating too fast. This isn’t the time to dive into this.

But when? you wonder.

How long has he…?

No, absolutely not. You won’t let yourself go there, you can’t, not now, not when he’s looking at you like this.

“I’m sorry, E, I just got caught off guard and got overwhelmed,” you finally respond, wiping your cheeks. “You—you said you have it all figured out?”

Throwing it back to him is the right call because now he’s excited. “You’re stayin’ in Vegas, honey.” He says it so matter-of-factly that you want to believe him, but you don’t understand.

Your heart drops into your stomach, as if you are plummeting down a roller coaster, the feeling where fear and excitement meet. “Elvis, you’re not making any sense. If I stay in Vegas, Jack is gonna want to know why, and I certainly can’t say I’m here for you. And I’m pretty sure Jack doesn’t particularly want me here, anyways,” you say with distain.

“Jack’s got his fuckin’ head wedged so far up his ass, he can’t see straight,” Elvis says, blatantly annoyed. “Don’t you worry ‘bout him.”

Don’t worry about him? He’s my husband! You almost say it, then think better of it, not wanting to get into that right now. Plus, you are curious as to this solution Elvis has miraculously come up with.

“Baby, remember the other night when you’s was tellin’ me you’re unhappy, that you don’t know where you belong, what your purpose is?” he says, practically bouncing.

You nod. How could you forget? That’s what started this all in the first place.

“Well, I figured it out. You belong here, with me, with us,” he says, beaming, taking your hand in both of his. You can feel him vibrating with energy.

“Wait, what…? Us? Who’s us?” you say, utterly confused.

“Us, the show. We’ve been talkin’ about needin’ someone to sing the high voice parts, along with the Sweet Inspirations. And it just came to me, after you were singin’ in the shower. It’s you. Of course, it’s you. Now you have a reason to stay. We get to be together, and the show will have a new member. It’s perfect.” His excitement is palpable, he’s nearly glowing with it.

Oh, this man is outta his goddamned mind. You shake your head, shock and fear like ice in your veins. “Elvis, do you not remember me telling you how terrified I am of singing in front of people? I could barely sing in front of you without having a meltdown!” you practically shriek, dousing his elation.

“Hey, there’ll be none of that!” Elvis raises his voice at you, eyes darkening. It’s not a yell, but it’s stern as hell, and you realize that Elvis probably doesn’t like having his “good idea” shot down before it’s barely out of his mouth. His change in demeanor shakes you enough to calm down a little. You know him well enough to know his mood can change on a dime, and you don’t think you can handle that on top of your own panic right now. You force yourself to take a long, deep breath.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re gettin’ up on stage with me tomorrow, honey, but I am sayin’ that maybe you need a little trainin’ to prepare you for the possibility that it could happen. And that trainin’ needs to happen here, in Vegas, with a vocal coach I already got comin’ in,” he explains more gently.

You are starting to understand what he’s getting at, and your fear abates a little. He’s not saying you’re joining the band (yet), but if you are training for it, whether it happens or not, you have a reason to stay.

“Now, I know you love music, baby, I know it in my bones cuz I see it in you, always have, plain as day. Maybe this is that purpose you’ve been lookin’ for. It’s kismet, I’m tellin’ you, honey, all this happenin’, here at once. You and me. Us needin’ another singer. Even Jack bein’ a dipshit. Can’t you see, baby? It’s meant to be,” he says fervently, holding onto your shoulders, his eyes wild with passion. He’s so enthusiastic, it’s hard to not be swept up with him.

It's meant to be…

You nod, letting him pull you along down this road. You do love music. You have been searching for something, a purpose. And you’d get to be here with him, not thousands of miles away, being sad and lonely in Memphis. What do you have to lose?

A lot, a voice counters. This is a bad idea.

You quash that voice, wanting to believe in this as much as Elvis does. As scared as you are of how out of control he makes you feel, how your feelings for him (and his for you) terrify you, you know that the stifling sadness of your old routine is slowly draining the life out of you.

If nothing else, Elvis makes you feel alive.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Elvis beams. “Really? Okay?” he asks.

“Okay, I’ll try it. I’ll work with your coach. But I can’t promise I’ll be any good or even be able to get up there,” you add pointedly.

You have to give him credit, though, because the more you think about it, the more genius the idea becomes. It could actually work in terms of your relationship, whatever it may be. But more importantly, the thought of doing something with music, something outside yourself, is enticing.

“That’s okay, we’ll just take it one step atta time,” he says, ecstatic. He grabs your cheeks and kisses you. “I just want you to be happy, baby. I wanna make you happy.”

God, he says it with such fervor, such sincerity, that you can’t help but be enveloped in it with him. The fact that anyone out there has your happiness at the forefront of their mind is amazing to you, much less it being Elvis Presley. And he seems to believe in you in a way you haven’t even believed in yourself in a very long time.

And that does make you happy.

Even if it scares the hell out of you.

**

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @rainydayz101

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

[koishua]

⟡ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 ─── park jay

synopsis ─── at seven years old, heather brown finds a friend in jay jeongseong park. at ten years old, she realizes that she found a lifelong partner in him. at eighteen years old, she wishes that she had told him she loved him for the first and last time (she does not—could not, of anything— and it's all because she can't live a life without daniel yeonjun choi).

starring ─── daniel yeonjun choi. heather nabeom brown, a female original character. jay jeongseong park. additionally, beomgyu choi, sunghoon park and heeseung lee.

genre ─── angst, childhood best friends to almost lovers, drama, hurt/comfort.

length ─── 10,019k words (part one)

warnings ─── mentions of hospitals, illnesses and death, some minor scenes depicting familial issues.

author's note ─── (heads up not edited whatsoever we die like newt.) damn. this has been brewing in my docs for exactly two years and i have rewritten it countless times and waz unsatisfied each time and couldn't finish it. im sort of very tired of it just sitting there, so here i am, posting this in a few installments so maybe i can get the motivation to finish depending on your reactions haha. make note that although the romance is still there, it's not as prevalent as the pure bond between the three protagonists. i have so many feelings bottled up in my wee lil heart for this fic because heather, jay and daniel are my babies and i love their bonds so much and i have so so much planned so yeah i hope y'all enjoyed what i have so far and we'll see. maybe you can read the second part next spring lolol. also heather and her thought processes are totally me lol

taglist no. one ─── @junityy @jeonqquk @leavethemonsteralive @iuwon @envirae @i-luvsang @rae-blogging @jitaros @jdyunvrs @kdyism @yourlocalhotgf @mark-lees-world @99outros @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @tyongishs @yutaalove @yangianwon @icywhatim @sunshine-skz @sooblvr @whoe-dis @injanggarden @90sni-ki @wccycc @sunfics @woo-minhee02 @yyxy27 @bigsobforskz @soobin-chois @jaysbestie @ni-kiii @jungwonerz @sunoosbestie @95sjcc @ja4hyvn @ant-ton-ya @stealanity @pshflrts @norifilms @shekllls @eternallyhyucks @yjwfav @luvningkai @youreverydayzebra @mosviqu @w3bqrl @candysofthours @moontines @rielleluvs @lebrookestore

reblogs and feedback are super appreciated y'all !!

“Hello! My name is Jeongseong Park, but you can call me Jay!” she blinked twice, clutching the hems of the older woman’s skirt. The short-statured younger boy leaned to its side, his head tilting curiously. “Is she shy?”

She chuckled, affectionately running her fingers through her daughter’s soft locks of light hair— well, lighter than his, at least. “She really isn’t most of the time, dear. Maybe she just doesn’t feel well right now.”

She held the chubby hands that tighten around the fabric on her waist, crouching down to the little girl’s height. Her frown seemed evident by the way her brows narrow, big and bright eyes hesitant on meeting her mother. “Come on, Heather. Don’t you think that it’s a little rude to not greet the young man?”

“I don’t want to.” She had a higher voice than Jay was used to, but that was only because he had been hanging around older people all the time, excluding the other boys his teacher had introduced him to in his new class last month. He took slight offense to that statement, however cool his outer kiddy demeanor covered it.

Without wasting a single moment, her mother beats him for a response. “You have to make friends, darling. Don’t you think he seems nice?” 

The unintentional innocence that radiates off her peer takes Heather off guard. He did seem nice enough with his doe-like eyes focused on the tropical mix capri sun, struggling to poke through the plastic with his thin, orange straw. He seemed like he liked to feed pigeons with his bread even if he himself was hungry.

She liked that— he didn’t look like those older kids who always drew on the walls behind school. Heather hated those third graders with a passion, but Jay seemed nice enough. He didn’t wear those black ripped jeans and shirts and he didn’t sport their messy hair. All of those kids did and they were mean towards even the teachers.

She wondered if their clothes and style were the problem, but maybe that would be a little shallow of her. Daniel always told her not to judge anyone by their face, body or clothes, so she would always trust his judgement and come to the conclusion that it wasn’t the clothes that made them seem rude.

Daniel was always right, he was probably the only person that told her that, though— he was the nicest person Heather knew of in her six years of life. He told her that she needed to be nice and accepting of everyone. He was older than her, almost ten years old. That was, in her mind, ancient enough to be considered as good as an adult like her mother and father.

She took in a deep breath, reluctantly letting the silk between her fingers go and came out into the open. “Fine,” she mutters underneath her breath. Daniel would be very proud of her, “My name’s Heather. I will be seven years old on the twenty-first of March. I hope we can be good friends.”

The young boy takes a look at her extended hand, thinking about how odd of an introduction this whole thing was. But he accepts the very formal shake of hand anyways, his smile lighting up the room within seconds. “I’ll be seven after you will, then! My birthday is in April.”

Nodding, she leaned back to inspect his attire. He had weird hair, she noticed. “You have weird hair.” Her mother gasped, “Little lady, that is not how you speak to people.” Though her mother reprimanded her, to which she took no caution to, she was a tad bit taken aback by the quiet snort that had escaped the odd boy’s lips just now.

“It’s okay, I hate it, too.” He did? “My dad thinks that all boys have to have this hair at least once in their life, so he made our hairdresser cut it this way. I like those hairs that they show on television, though! The ones where they cut it short until here and leave it long on top.”

Did he mean an undercut, Mrs. Brown scratched her head with wonder. She shook her head, accepting defeat and patted Heather’s shoulders. “I have to attend to my work, Heather, so why don’t you go off with Jay here and play with him a little bit until John’s father comes to pick you up for your music class later this afternoon?”

She didn't like John, nor did she like his father.

“But, I told you that I don’t like classical music. Do I still have to go?” She tugs at the hem of her mother’s crisp white blouse, an unhappy look etched onto her childish features. She supposed she didn’t look all that intimidating, but she liked to believe that she was either way, however intimidating her puffy cheeks and pigtails could be.

“Heather Brown, you will attend these classes for as long as we tell you to. You must grow up to be as refined as possible, understood? Don’t you think that it would be nice to be able to play the violin well? Look, even Jay here takes piano lessons! And I heard from his mother that he is an excellent student.” The six year-old gave the poor fellow a side glance, backtracking on her older thoughts for a moment.

Scratch that, maybe she did dislike him just a little bit now. 

Resigning to her fate, she pulled away, “Okay, I’ll do it for you.” With a satisfied nod, the older woman took her silent leave and Heather watched as the tall doors click closed, leaving her alone with her new acquaintance in a large hall surrounded by glass windows, the bright twelve p.m. sun peeking through the thin grey sun blockers.

“My mom tells me that it’s always good for you to wear sunscreen,” Jay took notice of the way she seemed stuck on the way the beams of light escaped through the cracks. He pulls his miniature version of a duffel bag out of the large cupboard from the back of the office, navigating his way through the leather seats surrounding the oval oak table to accommodate for large meetings.

“Do you want some? I was told that you have to apply it every two hours.” You stare at the uncapped orange bottle, a tiny bit— pea sized, if she had to give it a relatively accurate description of the amount— of the creamy substance already on the back of his palm. 

Why was their first conversation alone about the many effects of under-protection from the harmful rays of the sun, Heather never knew. Though he might have been a little odd, she supposed he wasn’t that bad of a kid. As far as she could see, he was just her mother’s husband’s friend’s son who had a knack for knowing the most random of knowledge that no six year old usually could know of— he also liked dancing, but she wasn’t about to tell him that she liked that small bit of fact.

Heather made her first friend the same age as her at seven years old. She didn’t like his haircut— and neither did he— but he was nice enough to let her draw stars on his cheeks with face paint on the first day he met her.

⟡

For her entire life, all Heather knew of were three things: she hated bullies, she hated music, and she hated the way Jay was having a growth spurt when she was stuck in the same height as before. She was ten years old now— mind you, she was older than him, however much a gap of a single month was worth— and she was now shorter than Jay Park.

“Are you not bored of always staying in this hole?” Heather whispered into his ear, mindful of her volume with all of the overbearing adults in the office. Although, to be fair, this ‘hole’ that she had been talking about was a 25 stories high corporal building made of expensive glass windows and tall ceilings adorned with chandeliers everywhere she looked if she craned her neck just a little— it was the furthest thing from being a mere hole that they had been stuck inside together for the past three years.

Jay nodded, “I asked my dad if we could just stay back at home, but he said no. He thinks that we will be in danger as soon as we are out of their direct sight, even if the staff are there to clean the house.” Being the only children of two business giants did come with its disadvantages, Heather could only cry in silence.

“Surely, they won’t notice if we go out to buy ice cream, right?” she nudged the pondering boy, urging him to respond. The mischief swimming inside those familiar brown eyes was an exciting thing to witness. 

He glanced at the busy adults, all gathered to sit around a table for a long discussion. “We can go to the store next block and then run back here, how about that?” Heather muttered in a low tone, almost too quiet for him to pick it up, but he did.

“Fine, but if they notice and get angry, you’re the one who is responsible, okay?” Jay took her little block of rosin from the intricately made coffee table, storing the object away in her violin case, carefully clasping the two sides shut together to pick it up— when he had grown into the habit of carrying the large black container for her, he didn’t know for sure, but she always left the instrument behind, so it was up to him to tuck the bow and violin away securely, lest Mrs. Brown reprimanded her daughter for protesting against her music lesson again.

Slinking out of the adults’ way was easy of a task, you only had to be quiet and tuck yourself away behind the walls and just keep on moving before someone actually decided to check the odd moving shadows behind the long blinds. What was difficult, however, was pulling off a maneuver like escaping through the front entrance where security guards were always planted.

“Are you ready?” Heather wrapped her arms around his shoulders, taking notice of how much wider they seemed to have gotten in the two years she had known him. She had stashed her case away in one of the empty offices on the fourth floor where all of the marketing workers were stationed.

The quiet stalking they had done from the twentieth floor all the way down to the first— all the while still going unnoticed by the hundreds of personnel frantically buzzing through the hallways like bees to their nests— had proven to be the most exhilarating part of this sneaking out ordeal.

She peeked a head through the small gap between the door and its frame, allowing Jay to slide a small head through the same gap as well— they looked like characters from cartoons, comically peering at something they shouldn't with heads stacked above each others’— only to speedily hide back inside the small closet filled with cleaning supplies after seeing her father’s secretary dashing their way with a phone held next to her ear.

Once they heard the click of her low heels fade away into silence, Heather turned the handle of the door to slide it open, gesturing at Jay to follow behind. “Look, Freddy is going away to get a drink now. Let’s make a run for it, quick.” Freddy, the tall and grand security personnel who looked similar to the Five Nights at Freddy’s animatronic bear that had given both of you a good amount of nightmares after deciding to play the game together during one of your many stays here in the company building.

Jay took a hold of her hand, fingers wrapped around her palm with a tight squeeze and they sprinted off towards the automatic sliding doors and bursting into the sunlight. A few onlookers took a brief glance at the two children panting as they rounded the corner of the building, hiding away in the comfort of the crowded sidewalks, the tall structure of the enterprise looming over their small bodies that sped through the roads of Washington D.C.

“That was wicked!” The taller one of the two eased them both into a jog, not noticing the fact that their hands were still intertwined, tightly wrapped around each other— neither did Heather, for that matter, too caught up in the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

The cars honking at the ones in front of them did not bother the children at all, not when they were tasting the first bite of freedom they had ever gained. It was a hot summer day and middle school was about to start in a few weeks— dreadful, they knew.

The sad, sob-worthy trek back towards the building was to be expected not even ten minutes after their grand escapade. They had forgotten to bring money to buy their ice creams.

But everything was okay, though. They might not have gotten their cold treats, but their way back inside had gone by as silently as their adventure outside had been. No one had noticed a single thing, save for the one staff member monitoring the security cameras.

Heather had just finished fourth grade when she broke the rules with her best friend for the first time— it felt good. Jay was taller than her now, sure, but she still could put him in a chokehold if she wanted to and that was all that really mattered.

⟡

“Daniel?” The older boy hummed, looking up from his extremely important job that was meticulously peeling bananas to make them smoothies. She settled herself on the tall leather bar stools to watch as the fifteen year old threw in a handful of frozen strawberries from the large freezer inside the sturdy blender with a splash of milk to add to the silky smooth texture of the cold drink.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” The solemn look on her face forced him to turn the machine off for a moment. He examined the way the edges of her eyes seemed to redden by the second, glazing over to signify the oncoming wave of salty tears. 

Yeonjun sighed, making his way to her side to cradle her in his arms, leaning her head against his chest to run his hands through her hair. He didn’t say anything even if he heard the muted sniffles or the thick in her voice.

"You know what 영원한 means?" She shook her head, "Well, flower, it means eternally— forever. I promise you— cross my heart and hope to die— that I will be with you until the end of time, okay?" 

Her mother was leaving, but at least Daniel was staying. She wouldn't know what to do if he left, too.

Daniel was funny. He was always the one that had pretended to be an ox to chase her around the empty complex when her father was glued to his chair in his office at the top floor and her mother was occupied by her endless meetings that she never understood what the need was for.

She knew him ever since she could think back in her memories, maybe he was secretly her brother. That would make a lot of sense, wouldn't it? Or better yet, maybe he was her dad— or her mom. He felt like one anyways, he was always the one that took care of her.

Eleven year old Heather knew that he couldn't be her parent, he was extremely young to be so, so maybe he was either her long lost brother— she didn't understand why her parents never told her, though. That is, if he was actually her older sibling hidden away— or an angel disguised as a fifteen year old middle schooler who liked to teach her to be nice to other kids.

Daniel was nice, he got that from his mother who was working as her own family's cook for the past ten years. Mrs. Choi was always smiling and she never scolded her whenever she snuck into the kitchen to steal all of the freshly baked cookies one by one. 

In all honesty, ten year old Heather really did think that she was the stealthiest living being while crawling her way towards the kitchen island. The woman had always managed to find her slipping away through the sliding doors with a half munched cookie in her hand, melted chocolate smeared all over her lips.

Why did she never get angry? She always gave her a small plate of them after wiping away at her messy face, she always had the kindest eyes as well. Why?

She supposed that was why Daniel was so patient. He was the nicest person Heather knew and she would forever stand by the fact that Daniel Choi would be the most perfect person in all of mankind.

He was nice.

Her mother was leaving, leaving her to her father— was he even her real father? Heather didn't think that she had a single ounce of similarity to him in herself. He had the yellowest hair she had ever seen. Even the pale kid from her old fourth grade didn't have hair as saturated as his.

Heather had smooth brown hair, she was a brunette, and yet he had the curliest of blond hair ever. Her mom, on the other hand, had the silkiest of rich black hair. How did biology work again? What if she wasn't related to any one of them? She had eyes that looked like her mother's milky coffee, very light brown— Mrs. Choi always said that her mother never knew what actual coffee tasted like, always mixing it with soy milk to the point where it was more of a coffee flavoured milk.

Her dad had blue eyes, they were pretty— not to say that her mother's dark eyes were not, but eleven year old Heather was just saying. What if she was adopted? She really needed to pay attention to her biology classes. The short quiz about how genes work was closing up on both Jay and her, but her best friend didn't have anything to worry about anyway.

He had always been smarter than her, but that was fine. She could always be the brawn of the duo— or the cutest one that got all of the attention of the adults to distract them while he slid out of the room to buy a pack of Mentos candy from the nearest vending machine— it was always ten stories below his father's office, but that was fine. Jay was fast— so that they could try to make a bottle of Coke explode out in the garden.

Her thoughts were muddled up yet again, mind running at incredible speeds, remaining unexhausted from hopping on one train to the other. Where was she again? 

Ah, yes, Heather wiped her tears away with the back of her sleeves, noting the way Daniel looked much older than before as he looked down at her with a concerned frown.

She wanted a cat.

“Danny?” 

“Yes, flower?”

“Do you think mother is leaving because she doesn’t like dad anymore?”

“I don’t know, flower. Maybe.”

“Will you ever decide to leave if you don’t like me anymore?”

“Never. I will die before that could ever happen.”

“Okay, Danny. I believe you.”

“Good. Now, let’s drink our smoothies before they get warm.”

⟡

“Blue?” Heather whispers, the vast ceilings of her dark room didn’t scare her like it used to— now that she had him, she didn’t think she would ever be afraid of the empty and lifeless room ever again. The baby dolls her mother had bought for her when she was five years old were still lined up on her window sills all across her walls. The moon wasn’t coming out of its hiding place tonight— it was a rarity these past few months, shrouding her room in the darkest of shadows. 

She wasn’t afraid of the dark, though. She had Jay, he would hold her hand and tell her funny stories that had happened during the day and he would lead her to sit on the velvet stool with him to play a little song for her on the grand piano that her father had made the staff set up. 

Thirteen year old Heather still despised classical music— she wondered why she hadn’t dropped out of her tutoring sessions yet with her mother not around anymore. Perhaps it was a sense of duty towards the older woman, the same way she kept the hideous dolls around. She still lingered around— the ghost of her had never left, she sort of hated it.

She hated a lot of things, Heather had long before accepted the fact that she was just a petty person in general, she hoped that Jay did as well. She abhorred the smell of watermelons, same as the taste of tomatoes and the sound of her violin when she played another piece composed by Sibelius or Paganini— why couldn’t she play whatever she wanted? Where was her freedom?

Strangely enough, though, perched on the cushions of the mahogany stool next to Jay, she didn’t hate the way his fingers softly stroked the keys to lull her to sleep with Berceuse in D flat major, Op. 57— or as they liked to call it, Bercy. For Heather, this was Jay in his core.

Park Jay had a beautiful heart— the sweet tone of the melody sounded different when he was the one playing— she loved listening to him. For an older Heather, one that was not a six year old brat anymore, music sounded nice when it was Jay the one playing for her. She liked music only when it was Jay playing for her.

“Yes, Heather?” There he was, calling her by her name again. Her mother always used to call her little lady, her father only used her korean name, 나봄 Nabeom— the only one to do so, oddly enough. Her teachers didn’t call her by her name either, were they scared of it? What reason would they have to call her dear? 

She didn’t have friends, though— she didn’t need them anyway, they were all terrible little liars— Jay was all she needed, all she ever wanted. Jay liked to call her by her name, just like Daniel often did, save for the few endearing terms he used— mostly about flowers, given her name, Heather, but she liked them all. Anything Daniel said to her, she liked them all.

“Heather? Did you want to tell me something?” He played with the thin bracelet wrapped delicately around her wrist, the one he had made for her when he was twelve— admittedly, not that long ago, but enough to wonder about why she hadn’t taken it off yet. The warmth of her hands was like a reminder of her existence to him.

Do angels exist? He didn’t know the answer to this question, not even after the countless visits to the enormous church, but maybe, it was lying right next to him all this time. Maybe angels did exist in the form of a lonely thirteen year old girl who had hugged him tightly after he had won first place in yet another competition— it was memorable for a reason, he had never been hugged for any of his achievements before, big or small.

A clap of thunder stripped her of the bravado she had guised herself behind, she felt her limbs frozen in place, unable to find a good emotional foothold to hide away from the next set of thunder booming behind her glass windows. 

Jay did not say anything else. Instead, he opted to let his closest friend find solace in the way they linked their arms together, pulling the covers over their heads akin to a comforting cocoon. This was enough for Heather— just her and him together, hiding from the stormy weather underneath her thick white blanket. This was all it took to calm his best friend down, to be there for her.

Just hold her hand.

⟡

Niccolo Paganini, her worst nemesis following the likes of Bach and Sibelius, was the sole reason for her months spent cooped up in her room, going over each one of his rigorous pieces with great care. Oh, how she would have liked to tear those stark white and black sheets with the most disgusted of scowls smeared on her face— right in front of her mother’s scrutiny, might she add.

The years and years of practice— as far back as her mind would allow her to remember— lead up to this one moment of battle between her and the devious fourth caprice in c minor she could barely fly over, never mind the twenty fourth. It was vomit worthy if you asked Heather herself.

Despise was the only word she had for the pieces given to her by her instructor. Why did she not give this up yet? Eleven years— nine of them by her mothers’ wishes, two more she had decided to continue on her own— she had spent cooped up either in a damn skyscraper or a closed off mansion to run through the counts by herself.

Why didn’t she just stop playing? Everyone knew how much she loathed her time playing her instrument. Was it to remember and keep a piece of her mother with her?Maybe, but she remembered that they didn’t even have the best of a parent-child relationship in the first place. Was it really because of her mother?

Jay.

Maybe the only reason she had not quit yet was her very own Jay. He always did play beautifully, coaxing her to join him if she so desired to. And how could she ever say no to him? Park Jay, she never knew how much of a hold he held on her, not even years later.

Indeed, maybe she didn’t quit yet just to keep an even ground with her childhood friend. Soon, she would leave her violin case behind forever.

⟡

Heather could not keep even grounds with her childhood friend anymore.

“Are you okay, miss?” A worker asked her with concern evident in his eyes. She blinked up at him, his form all but a blur going in and out of focus as she desperately tried to come to herself and shake the ringing out of her ears.

A few strands of her hair slipped out of her neat bun tied on top of her head. She tried to push herself back up on her feet, swaying as her knees buckled under her weight once again. The suited man from her father’s office stabilized her by her shoulders, leading her to one of the leather seats pushed against the crisp white wall.

“I’m okay, thank you.” Heather really was okay. It was probably just the fatigue growing on her after the hours of practice she had endured, or the fact that she had forgotten about her breakfast on the counter and lunchbox near her bag. She had to be okay, so she would continue believing that it was nothing, that everything was just fine.

He nodded, unconvinced but not prying any further, “If you say so. Be careful, okay?” 

So she would do just that, but alas, even with great care, fate would continue running at its own pace and it would forever continue to break and build lives. It had done it millions of times before and it would do it again and again.

“I can’t believe you keep tripping over nothing, honestly. Watch your own feet, Heather.” Jay ruffled her hair, effectively destroying her long minutes of hard work at putting her hair together that morning. He always liked to do that, she noticed. Jay liked to systematically mess with her hair and then tuck the strands back behind her ear at least once every single day.

Every day, huh. How many days had it been since they had first met? How old was she even? They had probably spent more years together than without each other being by their side, well over six years she’d say, maybe even eight. Funnily enough, she remembered his long hair as a child as if it was just yesterday.

“Watch your hands, Jay, or else I’ll be the one to keep them in check for you.” she deftly slapped his hands away from cupping her cheeks, puffing out her lips like a fish. He only sniggered at the irritated pout on her lips, “How scary, I’m running for my life.”

“Shut up, I’m older than you.” 

“Only by a few months at best. That’s not much. I’m way bigger than you, how about that?” His noticeably taller frame towered over her, if only by a few inches, but he still liked to take every opportunity to bring the difference up to her just to get her riled up time and time again.

It was somehow oddly cute.

“I will break your kneecaps, how about that?” her raised feet, ready to strike at any moment, made him take a cautious step back. “Only if you can catch me, but that’s hard because your legs are way too short to catch up to me, shorty.”

“That is it, Jay. You’re so dead.” Her roar of indignation did the trick to make him burst into a sprint for his life with an excited howl, heart beating in his throat. The sparkling floors make his brand new shoes squeak with every impact on the surface. “Catch me if you can, Heather!”

And without a single glance at the girl chasing him, he darted off into the hallways with various workers scattered throughout, all letting a noise of surprise out when they saw the boy bulldozing his way between them all, “Jay? Be careful!”

Unhearing of the words from the adults’ mouths for the time being, he dashed left into an open meeting office, countless wheeled armchairs set neatly next to each other around a heavy oval table. Heather ran straight inside, fearsome and glowing with determination to tackle him into the next galaxy, “Don’t think you can escape from me, Jay!”

⟡

“Sweet sixteen, Heather.” Jay brings the small cake closer towards her, urging her to make a wish and blow the sixteen individual candles away. He looked older now— he had shoulders that had grown wider by the day and his baby fat was slowly, but surely, melting away to reveal his strong jawline, his roundish features now prominent in their shape without the softness that came with being a child.

He had gotten rid of that god awful haircut as well, giving himself a brand new and welcome look— his undercut dreams had come true and Heather admitted that it suited him extremely well. He always did have that underlying promise of a handsome future, but now it was clearer than ever. Jay had the prettiest smile.

Much to her dismay, she hadn’t gotten around to beat his height, not when he was half a head taller than she already, or was it more than that? She didn’t know and ten years into their friendship, she didn’t really care anymore. The last time she had asked Daniel to measure their height was two years ago— the lines and dates lining up her door frame would gladly serve as proof of that.

Speaking of Daniel— she looked at the much older and much taller twenty year old across the room filled with just the three of them— he was still there. 

Daniel liked to sing, he loved it and he loved to stand in front of hundreds and thousands of people to just let his voice out and perform to his heart’s content. He was good at it as well, she was not envious of his gift, though— not in that way. She was never jealous of the amount of praises and compliments he would get from people all around the world that had come to watch his concerts.

Big people with big names that wanted to take him away to bigger places than the good old Washington D.C.

Heather was never jealous of the love he had always received, even as a young middle schooler. No, she was never ever green with envy— in hindsight, she would always tell others that she was probably the one person proudest of him next to Mrs. Choi. Would that— could that— ever change?

No, absolutely not. Heather still was a strong believer of the extent of Daniel Yeonjun Choi’s perfection. If anything, she was just downright petrified that one day, he would break his promise of five years that he would never leave her behind in this cold world. That new friend of his seemed all too eager to do so.

What was his name again? Ah, yes, Beomgyu Choi. He was a pretty guy— now, that she was jealous of. Daniel was pretty, too, wasn’t he? Pretty people deserved other pretty people. Was she willing to let him go just yet, though? Not a chance.

Maybe she would, maybe she could, she thought as she looked at the sixteen flames illuminating Jay’s pretty face. Why was everyone so pretty? 

“Come on, Heather. Blow it out or else the wax will drip all over the icing!” There it was, his signature whines that would never cease in her presence— which, technically, meant that he complained all day, all night. That was, if the term in her presence was taken literally.

“Happy birthday, flower. You’ve bloomed beautifully.” Jay let out a snort, a quiet ew right after. “Do you have to be so cheesy all the time?” 

The man playfully jumps on the younger one’s back, quick tempered with his siblings— they were not real ones, but the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, right?— pulling Jay in a chokehold.

Heather had learned that move from him years ago, not even Jay had been around at the time. Heather was five years old when Daniel had come up from behind her and put her head between his arm and torso, lightly giving it a squeeze. Enraged, she demanded he teach her how to do it. An hour later, mrs. Choi would enter the room to find her eldest son being choked out by a five year old little girl as he lay limp on the marble floors.

"Stop flailing around, I'm blowing it out now." The two separated themselves from each other, eagerly waiting for the dessert to be cut into slices for them to enjoy. Deliberately, she gave the older male a larger piece, finding joy in the way her two friends started bickering again over the unfairness of it all. She let them fight it out for a while before giving Jay a smaller second slice to even things out.

“You’re an adult, Daniel. I think it’s embarrassing for you to fight me like this.” Jay quipped from Heather’s bed, stuffing his face with the smooth icing. The girl eyed the cream in disgust, nibbling on the sponges cake instead. She’d never understand why bakeries preferred a seven to three ratio of cream to cake.

“I’m not technically an adult yet. I live with my mom.” Daniel retorted from his seated position on the carpet. Heather sat next to him as always, succumbing to the natural gravitational pull whenever the older male was around. She always felt the safest when next to him, then Jay, but she’d never tell him that. Who knows how he would react if he heard it from her own mouth that she liked him just as much as Daniel. He would never let her hear the end of it.

Sixteen year old Heather finally quit music. She cut it out of her life, the motion done as quickly and soundlessly as her mother had a few years ago, leaving her behind forever as she ran back to Korea. Heather wondered where she’d be in life right now if she didn’t have a Jay Park or Daniel Choi with her.

Lost, probably.

It’s March 21st, Heather turned sixteen at last, safe and sound with Daniel right next to her as she smiled at her best friend sitting on her bed in front of her.

⟡

The next morning, she made her way to wash her face, slowly slinking out of her soft bed and trying not to wake up the boy snoring next to her. She’d slid a pillow under his arm to replace her. Planting her feet on the floor, however, did not come to her as easily as before. Almost instantaneously, her knees buckled beneath her, knocking the breath out of her lungs as she groaned in pain after the impact on her palm registered. She’d reached out blindly, using her hand to brace her body.

“Heather?” The ruckus woke up an exhausted Jay, who still looked incomparably better than her even with an early morning puffy face. He smoothly kicked the blanket off of his body to help the newly turned sixteen year old back on the bed.

“Hey,” brushing away the few strands of hair that had escaped the braid Daniel had put it into the night before, he held her arm, concern etched all across his face, “Are you okay?”

“Damn it.” The brunet winced at the few tears that escaped Heather’s eyes, stomach dropping at her sniffles. She covered her face with her palm, the other clutching the fabric of her sweatpants. 

“This sucks.”

He tucked her in his chest, running his fingers through her hair and waiting till she calmed down from her abrupt meltdown. Looking at her tightened fist, he gathered her tighter in his arms, putting a warm hand over hers, slowly making her release her clothes. “You’re okay, don’t worry.”

Heather sniffled, trying to regain a steady breathing and pulling in deep breaths to soothe her hiccups. Jay kept smoothing a hand through her soft strands, patiently waiting. “I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry.”

Jay shook his head, pressing a kiss on her temple, “Why apologize?” 

“I don’t know,” she sighed, wiping away the last drop of tear that slid down her cheek, “I just couldn’t hold it in. It didn’t even hurt. I guess I just felt disappointed.”

Jay hummed in understanding, bringing the pad of his thumb to swipe away the moisture around her eyes, “It can happen sometimes, I get it. Come, let’s wash up your face. You look prettier when you don’t have snot all over your face.”

The comment made her chuckle, giving his shoulder a friendly punch, “You don’t tell a girl that she’s ugly, especially when she’s crying her soul out. That’s super rude.”

“Am I supposed to lie, then?” Jay retorted, taking Heather gently by her arm and leading her carefully to the bathroom on the other side of the large space. Truthfully, Heather could never be ugly, not in his eyes at least. No matter how much he liked to tease her about the minor flaws in her appearance here and there, nothing ever seemed less than perfect in his eyes when it came to his closest friend.

Close to two years ago, Jay realized that Heather Brown was prettier than the angels his mother told him all about when he’d been younger. The purest beings, breathtaking and beautiful, those were traits Heather held as well. 

Even with eyes bloodshot, nose running a river and cheeks flushed from exertion, she was prettier than ever. 

“I think we should tell uncle about what happened.” He quipped from behind as Heather patted her face dry. He was leaning against the doorframe, frowning at something she couldn’t see on the floor.

“It’s getting too frequent. You literally fell over while doing nothing yesterday too.”

Heather stayed silent, assessing his words, “It’s getting worse, Heather. I’m just worried about you, your dad too.”

So many words were left unsaid, they both knew that, but with Heather’s insistence on keeping the progression of her disease a secret from her already busy father, Jay swallowed back his thoughts of concern and let her be.

For how long he’d let her live a life of lies, however, he didn’t know. Three years ago, their life had turned upside down with the few words of a man in a crisp white coat and this was the only way he could keep Heather Brown happy.

Just stay quiet, and let her be. He couldn’t possibly shoulder the heavy burden of being the one who insisted she stay locked inside a room surrounded by white walls, unwilling to be the one who ripped her away from her happiness. For now, he’d just let her be and do as she said.

⟡

Winter came quicker than expected that year, heavy clouds creeping over the lifeless buildings of Washington D.C.

Heather never expected her last Christmas break before she graduated high school to be spent cooped up inside a room that made her feel lonelier than her own one did whenever she was left to her own. The only thing accompanying her throughout her days was the large, framed picture of lilacs on the wall to her adjacent, the monotonous monitor to her side, a leather white couch next to the tall windows and the nurses who’d occasionally come and go.

Daniel Choi was busy these days, too. She hadn’t seen the older male in two weeks, quite the record for someone who’d talk to him face to face almost every few days. If not face to face, then at least on the phone where he’d tell her all about his day. He would always complain about something his friends had done, affectionately calling Beomgyu an annoying gum that was relentlessly stuck to him.

She heard that name a lot more often since the first time he’d introduced him to her almost a few years ago. Beomgyu this, Beomgyu that, Beomgyu here, Beomgyu there. It seemed like he lived and breathed by that name, not that Heather was jealous at all.

It was nice seeing Daniel befriend someone closer to his age. What was not nice was the fact that she felt like he was slowly drifting away. He wouldn’t pick up her calls when she missed his comforting voice, only answering hours later at times when even she wasn’t awake.

Daniel felt so far away, more so than he’d ever felt like.

What happened to her Daniel who’d nag her to eat her meals on time, scolding her for not drinking enough water? Where was he, the one who’d drive away all of her worries with a single smile, a lame joke? With a sinking feeling in her gut, Heather realized that Choi Beomgyu was stealing the most perfect human being in this world from her.

The thought brought a certain heaviness in her chest, the walls enclosing in on her. Her hands trembled, heart racing inside her ribs and her lungs felt like they weren’t getting enough air. Fear had her in a merciless clutch as she curled into a fetal position, cupping her hands over her ears, not even taking the presence of the nurse next to her in.

Daniel was leaving her and it was all Choi Beomgyu’s fault.

⟡

Nighttime crept over the sky, for once the moon reflecting light over those on the streets, illuminating the city in a soft glow. 

Heather felt better, good enough to wander down the halls of the large hospital in hopes of finding herself some entertainment, having already slept the day away. Energized for the night, she skipped down the empty corridors, careful to avoid any workers who might recognize the dreadful hospital clothing she’d been forced to put on when she first arrived last week.

“Snacks. I need snacks, lots and lots of them in fact.” She muttered at no one in particular, tracing an unending line on the wall as she went, taking a ninety degree turn to the right after confirming that her chances of getting caught were minimal. 

The automated machine stood proudly at the other corner of the corridor, as she found out after an unnecessarily lengthy trip around the quiet floor, lost in the maze while trying to follow a random blue line that led her to nowhere in particular, not that she knew of. Snickers or KitKat? She weighed her choices, fishing out a few coins out of her frankly quite shallow pocket.

And then she saw black.

Rubbing her forehead in defeat, she pushed herself up to sit on her knees, half having the mind to let out a string of less than pleasant cuss words as she massaged the area that throbbed. Her momentary blackout had led her to collapse right before the vending machine.

Heather pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching out to wipe away the small droplets of red with her sleeve. She hoped her nose didn’t look too bad for wear, “Great, just great.”

With a grunt, she made an effort to stretch her legs out to stand. That’s odd, wait, giving up on trying to hold a hand over her nose, she put out both arms and flexed, wondering why her legs didn’t seem to be functioning properly. I can’t feel anything, she tried reaching out to grab the handle of the sitting bank just an arm’s length away.

Her fingers strained as she clawed the air, hoping to get a grip on the metal bar. Tears of frustration welled up behind her eyelids while she dragged her limp feet with the help of her upper body, strength quickly dwindling as she had to handle all of her body weight. This cannot be happening, not now, she begged for a semblance of power to return to her muscles.

Please, a stray tear slid down her chin as anger rose within her. “Move already.” She slammed a closed fist over her incapacitated limbs. What a joke, cursed to a life of being a burden to everyone around her. “Just do as I say, why won’t you?”

Cursing, she harshly bit down on her lip, making a grand effort to slide her body and carry herself over to sit on the metal bench. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the adrenaline that had allowed her to will herself up slowly ebbing away. She laughed, a reaction forced out of her as she laughed and laughed.

She didn’t feel the traitorous tears trailing down the side of her face for the nth time that week, she didn’t recognize anyone’s voice as people started approaching her. Heather laughed at the injustice of it all, wondering what she had done wrong to go through and struggle with something most people did on a minutely basis. 

She laughed, bitter and tired of everything. 

Nurse Willows sat her on a wheelchair, a kind smile ever so present on her face despite the late hour and exhaustion probably wearing her down from the long day of hard work. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”

She liked Ms. Willows too, something about her giving her the same feeling of comfort that came with Mrs. Choi, Daniel’s mother and her cook. She had traces of age where her smile creased, but she still looked youthful, lively. She was just as kind as Mrs. Choi as well, she’d rejoiced at having someone nice to talk to when she would inevitably grow bored sitting around on her stiff bed. Heather barely saw her around after their first encounter, though.

Tonight was the second time she got to interact with Ms. Willows. Albeit the less than pleasant conditions, Heather fell back asleep on her way to her room as the older woman pushed her forward, pleased that it was Ms. Willows and not anybody else.

Tomorrow would be a better day, she hoped. It was Christmas after all.

⟡

Finding a snoring Jay next to her the next morning was the best thing that she could have ever asked for. 

He stirred in his sleep as she watched in awe, taking in his peaceful face like she always did. It had been months since she’d properly gotten to see him this close. She slowly smoothed over his cheek with the back of her fingers, barely hovering over his skin. Despite her best efforts at being subtle, his eyes fluttered awake anyways.

The sunlight was nowhere to be found at ten thirty-four am, right when Jay found himself staring into the eyes of his best friend. The room was dim with the only light coming from the hallway beneath her closed door. With what little brightness came in through the open blinds, shades of blue covering the sky behind the large glass panels, he took in her tired features.

Brown eyes never looked as good on him as they did on Heather Brown. Something about the way she looked at him felt like home, though to be fair, everything she did felt like home to him. There was no one in his life as clearly defined in who they were as Heather. His father, sure, along with his mother, but the person he’d wholeheartedly bellow the name of into the wind when asked who felt like home to him, was his one and only Heather, the girl peering right at him through the curtain of her lashes like he was her everything.

Like he was her everything.

And he was, to a certain extent. Heather thought back on the past ten entire years of her life, recounting the times Jay Park had proven time and time again that he’d always be the one person she could call her everything.

“You’re up.” Jay whispered, tracing small circles on her back with the hand he’d slung over her waist. He rejoiced in the way she fiddled in her position, feeling ticklish by his subtle pokes here and there where he knew she felt the most tickled by. Giggling at his onslaught, she quickly snatched his soft cheeks with her fingers and stretched the skin wide in an awkward grin.

Moving his cheeks around and bringing her hands together to make his lips puff out like a fish, she replied, “Who said you could invade my bed like this? It’s probably against the rules.”

Despite his hammering chest, he pulled her closer to himself, “It’s fine.” He could barely utter the few words through his squished face. “You wanna go out?”

Blinking, she strained her neck to spot the folded up wheelchair next to her small closet. Jay pushed himself to rest on his elbow, “It’s totally okay if you don’t feel like it, I just thought it’d be nice to see the snow.”

“It’s okay, let’s go. Help me up.” She stretched her arms forward, making a give me motion and pointed at the transport device she swallowed her pride and sat on with his help. “Push me as fast as you can.”

“We didn’t even notify the nurse or anything. You wait for like, a second, and I’ll be back in a minute.” After setting her down, he faced his body towards the door, rubbing the sleep quickly out of his eyes. He stopped when a hand pulled him back.

“Wait, why are you here anyways?”

“What do you mean?” The boy feigned innocence, half heartedly pulling his arm away from her loose grip. Heather steeled her expression, “I swear, Jay, if you pulled some funny business, then I’m sending you right back.”

It was at the beginning of year ten of school when Jay had decided he wanted to dance professionally. It was also in tenth grade that he’d finally convinced his father to let him audition, nearly spending the entire year coming up plans with her for the older man to finally cave in and let him quit the orchestra.

Heather had watched him dance for hours and hours on end, audition and then fail twice in a row before getting accepted into a small group. She had watched him pour his blood, sweat and tears throughout the past two years, every moment that would lead up to the big event not even a month away now.

There was no way he’d ditched going to the practice sessions just to take her out for something as mundane as a walk. “I’m actually gonna call uncle, Jay. I know how important the performance is, you shouldn’t be blowing off Sunghoon like that.”

“Chill,” He chuckled, flicking a finger over the bridge of her nose, “The regular meet up was postponed to tomorrow, because it’s a holiday and people have to be at home, exchange gifts and all of that jazz. The studio is closed for the day.”

“It better be.”

⟡

“I don’t have a gift for you.” Heather crossed her arms, looking at the small box resting on her lap. It wasn’t any bigger than the size of her palm, neatly wrapped with a white polka dotted paper, contrasting with the red background and glittering green ribbon tied around it in a typical festive fashion.

“I don’t need one.” He replied, sitting on the comfortable sofa across her as Heather fiddled with the small box. “Go on, open it.”

With great care, she unfolded the colorful wrap. “I’m gonna flip if it’s what I think it is.” She commented offhandedly, trying to cover up the glee seeping out of her voice. The velvet box felt familiar to touch, something she’d held in her hands once before, but never got around to bring it home with her.

“Oh, you bet it is.” Jay hopped off of the couch, flipping on the switch to her room. “I didn’t have the time to do anything special this year, but I know how obsessed you are with this, so yeah, sorry for the last minute surprise.”

“Want me to put it on for you?” Heather nodded at his offer, moving her hair to the side to allow him to clasp the dainty chain around her neck, the small pendant resting pretty on her décolleté. 

“There you go,” Jay stepped back to rake his eyes over her appearance, “You look very pretty.”

And indeed she was. Jay, for all of his life, prided himself in the fact that he had never once lied to anyone about anything. He wore his heart on his sleeves and kept his words simple and honest, truthful in everything he said or did. At times, his frank words hurt those who hadn’t heard what they wanted to from him, driving quite a few people away with the bluntness in his words. 

Everyone wanted to hear pretty white lies from him, turning their backs once they didn’t receive what they thought they would no matter how not unkind his delivery was. Honesty and sincerity, that’s what Jay prided himself in the most. Jay never lied, Heather knew that better than anyone else.

And so whenever he called her pretty, she felt like the most beautiful being in the world. If the words came from him, she’d take them to the bottom of her heart and encase it in a fragile glass container, cherishing it for a long, long time, because it was Jay’s words and Jay never lied.

For that night, she would truly feel beautiful, because he made her believe so.

⟡

July 21st only a couple of years ago, a summer day she remembered with every detail. Daniel had graduated high school just a little while ago and had decided to stay around, continue to make music on his own with his small group of friends, working small part time jobs in his other free time.

Heather had nothing to do that day with Jay away with his father on a trip and her own dad as busy with his business as always. It was Daniel who’d pulled her out of staying cooped up in her room all day. He’d dragged her out of her lonesome and taken her to a small ice cream shop next to the skatepark where kids mostly around her age usually hung out.

“You should try this mint chocolate one.” He’d begged her to try the minty flavored ice cream, to which she’d adamantly refused, knowing how he was aware that she hated it all the way to the depths of hell. Daniel could be annoying like that from time to time whenever he decided to shed his role of the ever loving, wise older brother.

“Suit yourself.” He’d replied with a sulk, typical Daniel fashion.

The heat rose from the asphalt, visible in the way it distorted the view of the park in front of the shop. She wondered if an egg would cook if she dropped it on the ground. It sure seemed like it was a possibility. Just like everything else however, she threw that thought behind, opting to enjoy the moment and her very delicious, very non-mint-chocolate ice cream.

The older male jumped right into step with her as they wandered out into the street, mindlessly wandering through the crowd of families and friends. He had an arm slung over her shoulder, chattering away about his plans for the next week. “You know what would be nice?” He piped up, nibbling on the cone in his right hand.

Heather didn’t reply, tilting her head to lock eyes with him as though she was questioning him. “What if we go on a little trip to the amusement park with Jay this Saturday? It’s been a while since we all went out together.”

She knew what he meant, the underlying message in between the lines. Still, she decided to ignore the unpleasant feeling, dropping her faux displeasure at him to contemplate on the suggestion. It had been a while since they’d had fun together, all three of them. “I’ll have to ask my father for permission, though.”

In a typical Daniel fashion, his lips curled into a lopsided smile, “If there’s anything I know about Mr. Brown after all these years, it’s that he won’t say no if I’m there to be your babysitter.”

“First of all, I don’t need a babysitter, much less someone like you.” Heather jeered at the older boy. “And secondly, remember that one time you almost let me drop from the fifty-first floor’s window when I was eight? And that one time you almost slipped down the wet stairs and dragged me down with you last year? I’d hardly consider you a capable sitter.”

She didn’t mention the time he’d gently held her while she mourned her mother’s departure, or when he’d patched her knees up when she’d fallen down from a tree branch while she and Jay were playing hide and seek at the park, or when Daniel had built them the biggest blanket fort the two younger ones had ever seen and have a movie night just because they’d both gotten great grades in their exam, or the time when he’d carried her on his shoulders because she couldn’t see the artist’s perform at the local music festival, or the time he’d trimmed her hair for her after she’d very unsuccessfully tried to give herself a new haircut.

She didn’t need to mention any of those instances where he’d been the angel taking care of her because he knew. Through her vulnerability with the boy she considered to be family, her constant little praises she liked to shower him with, her pulled back play-punches when he’d annoy her. Daniel knew that she saw him as the one that could do no real wrong, that he was her ever-loving and caring guardian.

Daniel knew, so when she said he wasn’t capable, he didn’t take the words to heart. He was so much more than just capable. Heather is an easy person for him to see through despite how others claimed the contrary.

Daniel knew that he was her everything, though it would be him in the end that would shatter her world.

© KOISHUA 2022, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik]

"A TOUCH-STARVED WARREN WOULD INCLUDE" HC.

Note: HEY, so in the next post it's just going to be a bunch of random shit about Warren's shannanigans, i'm dead ass sure it's awfully written but fuck it hehehe... Happy 2022 to y'all ✨💖

First and foremost, Warren has always been a loving person.

Sirsly, ever since he was little, he used to be one of those children who would hug random strangers and blow kisses to anyone who looked his way.

Always making drawings and handmade gifts for his teachers and nannies.

Always trying to get closer to anyone he appreciated.

Even if Warren's parents seemed to act cold and aloof most of the time around him, he would still look for ways to be near them.

Like how at night, his mom would let him brush her hair after finishing her skincare routine, leaving the room with a slight flowery scent, especially lavender.

Lavender will always evoke those nights where it was just the two of them, no nannies nor servants around.

Once the clock ticked 9pm Warren will get all giddy and expectant bc of how uncommon it was for him to spend some quality time just the three of them alone.

They would sit at the end of her bed, side by side.

After he had made sure his mother's hair was free of any knots he would comb it with his fingers, just to get a better feel of her.

Warren always adored how silky and smooth it felt against his skin.

He made sure of pressing a kiss to the crown of his mother's head each and every single time.

Sometimes they would switch places.

They would talk about their days or sometimes his mom would speak in French or German for Warren to practise what his governess taught him.

Somehow she would always end up reciting her favourite french poems to him.

The melodic sounds and the calmness she would send him into gave him the most blissful of sleep, without fail, each and every single time.

His dad was another story.

Although his mom was strict and definitely not as affectionate as other moms Warren knew of, she was still very kind and, in her own way, loving. Always making her son feel safe and secure around her.

Oh dear, how much he missed that.

To be able to let his guard down knowing no harm could come his way

To feel protected.

But his dad... Warren loved him dearly because, after all, he was his dad, but if he was being 100% honest. Warren always feared him.

He could never truly feel at ease around him, not even as a 6-year-old.

As he grew older his father became more severe, always punishing and scolding him.

But since 'talking some sense into the little boy's mind' wasn't doing it. He chose a more physical approach.

The ghost from the heavy metal of his father's family ring hitting his face never truly disappeared.

Needless to say, he was forced to shove his caring for others down from an early age.

And then he was all alone.

Faced death face-to-face and experienced in his own flesh the worst of humanity.

And Warren finally lived up to his father's wishes.

He went from a loving child to a hateful and bitter young man.

but thank god he found the X-MEN.

And to his surprise, it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

It took a lot of time, effort and mental breakdowns to break his tough shell.

And great friends.

And you... Especially you.

Warren couldn't help the familiar feeling of calmness and safety you caused in him.

He couldn't quite understand it but he felt drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Wherever you went, Warren followed.

But... casually.

Trying really hard to keep it cool.

To act like you weren't such a big deal.

OH BOI HOW USELESS IT WAS.

To pretend you didn't cause his heart to skip a beat each time you locked eyes.

Like he didn't end up with a foolish ear-to-ear smile after your meetings.

His eyes would light up each time he saw you.

His wings would puff subconsciously in your presence.

He couldn't hide how much he loved your rooftop talks.

And your nightly escapades.

You weren't selfish with your loving touches.

You never hold back any gentle stroke to Warren's hair.

Unfaced if people stared when you pulled him by his waist to kiss him.

Even if it was just a small kiss on his cheek or his forehead his face would heat up immediately. A wonderful way to erase the reminiscent sensation from his father's strikes.

It was so alluring how nonchalant you were about showing your love to him.

You adored holding hands with him. Walking everywhere holding each other.

Sometimes you would hold hands with your fingers intertwined.

Sometimes you would hold him by the arm.

That one was his favourite.

Warren would never EVER let go first, only doing so if he had no other option.

Leaning onto him was another gesture you did frequently while chatting under the trees or while watching TV in the common room or simply while standing.

The first time you did it... he froze in place.

He was so scared to move because if he did, Warren was afraid you might shift into another position... away from him.

Even now, each time you rest your head on his shoulder or his lap, Warren remains almost motionless.

He's way more relaxed now but the stupid lingering thought won't leave.

The first time you outlined the tattoos on his face he forgot how to breathe altogether.

And when you had decided to cup his face he felt like passing out.

There is no better feeling in the world to Warren than nuzzling his face to the crook of your neck during hugs.

Needless to say, Warren loves hugging you and holding you in any other way.

It makes the world fade into white noise.

His night-terrors are almost gone bc of it.

He can only fall asleep while being wrapped around you bc of it.

The scent so peculiar of yours just utterly intoxicates him.

Simply put, The Angel fell for you hard.

[fueledbysano]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒. ʀɪɴᴅᴏᴜ ʜ.

summary: It's fun being each other's dirty little secret. One time, before a night out, you catch Rin pleasuring himself to one of your thongs...

✧ pairing: bonten rindou x fem!dom reader

✧ includes: detailed smut, friends with benefits relationship, panty stealing, masturbating (m), unprotected sex.

✧ a/n: comeback post, I know it's the holidays but I'm drowning in a lot of work. Decided to cool off with this one. HOPEFULLY I can publish If Then's first chapter as well. Also I've been thinking about domming this mf alot lately I can't help but write it

You may have been in some sort of situation with your colleague, the one and only Rindou Haitani. and the two of you couldn't exactly show people outwardly that you were together, mostly because of your work environment.

y'all run a criminal organization, for fuck's sake.

which speaks for your place of living— a luxurious penthouse in the heart of the city which you shared with Sanzu and the two executives.

The pink-haired man grew close to you, even way before working for Manjiro. And he also grew to trust the Haitani brothers alone around you without a second thought as they were also your and his best friends.

But, then again, he didn't know that you may have been a little too close with Rindou, specifically.

“Yo, Rin, hurry! Me and [Name] are gonna leave your ass here, man.” Ran spoke to his brother who was yet to change at the other side of the door.

You may have impulsively planned to attend an exclusive event at a pool club party tonight, explaining the cramming.

Rin opens his closet, taking the first formal clothing he landed eyes on, but dropped it by a black, skimpy piece of clothing.

“Motherfu—” When he knelt down to take the outfit, his eyes were caught instead by a black piece of lingerie.

He picked it up, feeling the familiar lace and texture that he'd tear off you.

exactly what he did a few nights ago...

”Oh shit.” He cursed under his breath, feeling himself pitch a tent just at the thought of how prettily fucked out you looked the other night, sprawled out just for him in the bed.

and he was right— it was the lacy black thong he tore off of you the other night; wherein your innocent movie marathon turned into a rather tempestuous bang session.

how could you be so careless? just leaving your underwear in his room which could've been seen by Ran or Haru?

Rindou balled up your underwear in his fists upon hearing somebody's footsteps from the other side of the door.

“Bro! You coming with us or what?!” Ran knocked once more. Rin stiffens on the spot, having a moment to think.

“Yea, gimme a moment! I mean, I'll meet you guys there. Go on.” He lied, knowing well that what he was planning on doing would definitely take more than just a “moment”.

Ran only shrugged, heading down the staircase assuming that Rindou just needed time to get ready.

“Is Rin coming?” You questioned from the doorframe upon seeing Ran emerge without his brother.

Oh, he's coming alright.

Ran shrugged in response, inserting a flask into his jacket pockets. “He needs a moment to get dressed.”

You sigh, knowing that Ran wanted to leave so badly already and didn't want Sanzu to wait any longer in the car outside.

“You know what, we'll meet you there. Go ahead.” You insisted, perking up Ran's expression quickly.

“Alright, if you say so.” He nods, opening the huge doors of your penthouse. “See you there.” He gave you a light tap on the shoulder before leaving, the doors closing made an echo upn his leaving.

“Okay,” you mumble to yourself upon heading up the stairs. You walked down the hall and towards his door, ready to scold his ass to go.

But upon touching the doorknob, you froze on the spot when you heard very familiar noises from Rindou than you couldn only recognize on the bed.

“Mmhm, fuck! Oh, shit, [ Name ]! So good,” Rin breathily moaned your name to himself.

Is he seriously jerking off right before leaving for a night out?

You burst through the unlocked door, taking in the sight of your casual lover laid on the bed, being a complete mess.

Arm thrown over his eyes, wearing nothing but boxers pulled down his thighs, Rindou had his hand wrenching his impressive length along with one of your thongs.

So, that's where it went...

“Oh,” Rin's eyes shot open upon hearing your voice, his face now heating with embarrassment and movements frozen.

But his next move was rather bold, turning you on right on the spot. Rin's half lifded eyes locked with yours, his movements carrying on with.

“Like what you see, darling? Ah, Sh-it!” A smug smirk was now evident over his sweet lips which were just moaning your name just a minute ago.

“Oh fuck!” You watched his hand continuing to work on his own pleasure.

“Do you know how pathetic you look? Getting off on my thong from the other night?” You swiftly took the lacy material away from his hand, tossing it onto the floor.

“Fuck you.” He cursed.

“Oh you're about to.” You swiftly slipped off your skirt, letting them hit the floor before hopping onto the bed, trapping the man in between your thighs.

“So hard.” His breath hitched upon feeling your underwear press against his leaking tip. “What a good fucking girl.” He spoke, never breaking eye contact as his thumb brushed over the delicate skin over your hip bone.

You were surprised by how easily Rin let you dominate him, not completely sure what this leads to. But he let you continue.

You slowly begin to roll your hips against his, taking your lips down his lips for a soft kiss, gradually escalating into a heated make out.

He could only continue to kiss you with such aggressive passion, running his hands through your hair messily through heavy breaths.

At the same time, eyeing you fiercely, trying to maintain his moaning but failing at your breathtaking actions and sight.

You heavily breathed against his ear, grinding against his own hips and feeling his abs cave in hard. Until he finally took his hands to the waistband of your underwear, sliding it off your legs before tossing it to the carpet.

You wasted no time in lowering yourself onto Rin's dick, slowly feeling him split your core just right. “Fuck, atta girl!” His breath hitched once more, loudly cracking a moan and couldn't contain himself any longer.

You continued to bounce and writhe on top of him, the sounds of your juices lewdly mixing with his length.

“[Name], baby, I— Oh! shit,” His face looked so pretty underneath you, hands desperately clinging onto your hips. You loved it when he looked just like this— so pussy drunk and on the verge of finishing.

As you both felt yourselves near your highs, you leaned down to kiss him eagerly once more, enjoying the feeling of his breath against your lips.

The more aggressive your thrusts became, only the worse Rin held himself together.

He let out soft whimpers as he shut his eyes and threw his head back, enjoying the sensation of your hips meeting against his own.

“You're so cute! Fuck, I'm so close.” His moans were light and came out as whimpers.

Soon, you two felt the familiar surge of overwhelming ecstasy, signaling your orgasms at their endpoint.

“and to think... you wanted to use my thong.” You teased.

You and Rindou moaned heavily at the same time, feeling the release of each other's enjoyment. The room was now filled with humidity of your bodies' arousals, along with heavy breaths as you fell from your orgasms.

“This was so much better than what I could do on my own.” He admitted, watching you trace your fingers over his tattooed torso.

“Should we leave now?” You ask, remembering the party at the club. Ran and Haru are probably in there already.

“No, I don't think so.” He replied, locking eyes with you. “We're not finished yet, I'm on top this time.” With a groan, you were flipped to your back in an instant, trapped under his control.

“What?” Rin spun on his seat, meeting gaze with his brother. “One of the guys we took in last week is a fucking mole.” He explained, going straight for Rin's gun vault.

“Unbelievable!” Ran's angered voice almost made you toss your phone away upon he entered Rindou's room, wherein you peacefully peace hanging out.

Thank god, it's just a stupid rat. You genuinely thought he busted you. Shrugging it off, you continued to go through your phone.

“Yo, what's up?!” Sanzu was next to enter the room, hopping onto one of the couches to finish his glass of scotch.

“I'm gonna fucking end someone.” Ran explained, loading up a handgun.

“Cool.” Haru nodded, now bringing his attention to you and Ran who scrolled through his laptop on the desk beside you.

“Didn't see you two last night, did you even leave?” He questioned, swirling the liquor in the glass.

“Yeah we did.” “No.” You indistinctly mumbled.

He was confused from your opposing answers, but didn't really bother making you elaborate. His eyes now freely roamed the room, enjoying the drink in silence.

“Alright, I'm off.” Ran excused himself and headed to the door.

“Bye.” The three of you responded.

Sanzu continued finishing the golden liquor, until he sees a prominent damage on a certain spot on the wall.

“Yo, what happened to this, man?” The shot glass making contact with the table made a clink as Sanzu got up, walking towards the headboard just a foot away from you.

His question instantly took you and Rin's attention, heads turning to him. And once you see what he was talking about, all the words seemed to have knocked off your vocabulary.

He was examining the dent you made last night.

“This wasn't here yester—“ Sanzu's sentence was cut short upon a realization, slowly turning his head to you and Rindou who already had your eyes on him.

“Oh,” He spoke.

“OH— Oh shit!” He laughed at the horrified looks on your faces. “Fuck, man! Damn!” He continued to laugh over the fact that he'd just busted his best friends secretly banging.

“Rinnie and [Name]... Goddamn!” He whistled.

“Did I miss anything?” Ran peeked through the doors.

Oh, this couldn't get any worse...