#khaan x mc

[lizzybeth1986]

Beach Love: "Glasses and Missy" at Komodo Island

(FCs:

Sloane Washington: Nelly Muse

Alana Kusuma: Marion Jola)

So I've always had it in my mind that in both my poly!MCs-verses esp, Sloane and Alana begin to date at some point. I really liked the vibes I got from them in canon, so it's always been on my mind to pair them up. I feel like Sloane would get together with Khaan and Alana at least in every universe of mine, but at different times and with a different set of circumstances (in two of those universes Alana is involved with my polyam!MCs - Basil and Hawthorne - as well)

I envision that for their fifth year as a couple, Alana takes Sloane to Indonesia for a holiday. It's actually part of a group trip, but Alana wanted to treat her to something special and brought her there early.

Alana's not very keen on stuff that seems to indicate commitment tbh, so her doing this for Sloane is a pretty big deal. A few small hcs I have about this holiday:

• They binge out on bakso (meatballs!) and grilled corn

• Both love collecting seashells. Alana likes the worm snail and conch type, Sloane loves the scallop style and horse conch. Also colourful helmet shells.

• Sloane has gone snorkeling with the MC before (Basil gets her a pearl, Hawthorne gets her a seashell), but this time Alana and Sloane go river rafting. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time - but Sloane can always trust Alana to get her to push herself without feeling unsafe.

• They love watching the sunset together.

• Sloane has phases where she loves the beach, and where she isn't at all into it (sensory issues), but this holiday fortunately happens at a point when she's absolutely down for it.

• Sloane develops a taste for Arak Bali during her stay. She takes a bottle home.

• Did they do any skinny dipping? Yes they did, though Sloane did think a thousand times before taking that plunge. Nadia was so proud 😄

Tagging @sloanewashingtonappreciationweek and @sazanes for SWAW Day 4: Happy Valentine's Day!

Tagging @choicespride for the Valentine's Day event:

Book: Perfect Match

Pairing: Sloane Washington (bi) x Alana Kusuma (pan)

[dcbbw]

Trudy Sloane

This story is my submission for #Sloane Washington Appreciation Week. Yes, it’s late. (SORRY!) For those who are unfamiliar, Sloane Washington is a potential LI for the Perfect Match MC, and possibly one of the better characters PB has created. She’s beautiful, highly intelligent, and has a myriad of interests and hobbies including astronomy, science-fiction (reading, writing, watching), coding, Greek mythology; additionally, she has a fondness for penguins. What’s not to love?

There were so many amazing themes for Sloane Appreciation this year, but I chose to go with exploring Sloane Washington, the woman. There are threads of canon here, but mostly it’s head canons. And yes, William Sloane from Rules of Engagement made his way in here.

This has been hastily edited, and not read over by others, beta’d, or any of the things that reassure me the story makes sense and I haven’t crossed any boundaries, so anything that falls flat or sits wrong is solely on me. Call me out in the DMs on it.

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this fic as 100% error-free.

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Song Inspo: Cinnamon Girl, Lana Del Rey

Word Count: 2,225

Pairings: Sloane Washington x F!Kai Park (former), Sloane Washington x Khaan Mousavi

Rating M for Mature due to adult themes

Sloane Washington sits on the side of her bed, her palms running down her face as she scrubs sleep away from her eyes and cheeks. She rolls her neck to alleviate the pain caused by a crick as she exhales a quiet sigh while her eyes adjust to shadowy darkness.

The quiet in her domicile sounds … different somehow. She had been sharing her spaces with not one, but two people in the months following the downfall of Eros, but it was no longer a temporary arrangement subject to arbitrary whims and the trajectory of drunken arguments.

Gertrude Sloane Washington was engaged. To be married. The weight of the question asked, coupled with the permanence of her answer, changed everything. Or perhaps nothing. Time would tell.

Sloane extends her left hand, feeling the heaviness of the engagement ring on her third finger permeate her entire body. The modest gemstone twinkles weakly against the slivers of muted moonlight.

Naked, she rises and pads silently across the bedroom floor to a rocking chair that sits in a corner of the room. There’s just enough illumination eking through the closed blinds for her to make out her robe laying atop the pile of unfolded laundry sitting on the chair’s seat.

Her hair, normally plaited in an elaborate coronet braid, is twisted into two thick ponytails, one hanging over each shoulder blade. She lifts the tresses while black polyester fabric whispers against soft, almond-colored skin as she shrugs into the covering.

Sloane briefly glances over at the still-sleeping body in the bed; it heaves slightly and rhythmically, in sync with slumber-filled breath.

Khaan Mousavi. The man who would be her husband.

Sloane walks over to her bedside table, feeling the stickiness from their earlier coupling between her honeyed thighs before scooping her cellphone and exiting the room. She shuts the door quietly as the soles of her bare feet drag across the top of the carpeting; she takes a few steps before reaching the closed door of the apartment’s second bedroom.

It had been Hayden’s room once upon a time. Now, it was Hamza’s room. Hamza was Khaan’s son from a previous relationship, and soon to be Sloane’s stepson. Parenting was a frightening concept to Sloane, but hadn’t she essentially parented Hayden? The basics should be the same, right?

Brush your teeth.

Look both ways before crossing the street.

Be kind.

Don’t kill people.

She opens the door slightly, peering through the crack. A head full of brown hair lays on the pillow; the child lies on his back, small arms clutching a plush Sonic the Hedgehog. Soft snores emit from slightly parted lips. Blankets and sheets have been pulled away from his body, causing Sloane to hesitate in the doorway.

Should she go in and cover Hamza? She didn’t want the child to be chilled and potentially get sick. But Hamza was such a light sleeper …

Sloane shuts the door as quietly as she opened it, deciding to let the boy rest. She makes her way to the kitchen, her eyes taking in the furnishings that blended the girl she had been and the woman she had become.

Home.

The wall across from the bedrooms is covered with an enlarged photo of the aurora borealis; a corner curio next to the front door is filled with various diplomas, certificates, and awards bestowed upon the young scientist.

The entertainment center is filled with photographs of Sloane: a newborn baby, held in her mother’s arms; with her mother at both her high school and college graduations, both smiling broadly; college Sloane with the STEM club; with her current social circle, her arms wrapped around the waists of Kai Park and Hayden Young.

A bookcase is filled with books and DVDs, mostly science-fiction, dystopia, and documentaries.

The walls are covered with prints and vintage photographs of vaudevillian comedians. Sloane’s a fan of slapstick comedy because of its straightforwardness; there are no nuances to decipher or innuendo to wade through. The comedians share wall space with photographs and posters of historical women of color.

She makes it into the kitchen, walking across tiled flooring that had once rubbed her back salaciously when a former lover covered her face with sloppy kisses before taking Sloane drunkenly upon its freshly mopped surface just before a dinner party.

The same flooring that had taken the beating Sloane’s fists had pummeled against it when the lover left.

She glances quickly at the counter, seeing the stack of mail Khaan had tossed there before dinner. Sloane tightens the belt of her robe as she quickly sorts through the letters. Bill, bill, junk mail; she frowns at the last envelope, addressed to Gertrude Washington.

She knows immediately it’s junk or a solicitation of some sort. Sloane hadn’t been Gertrude in over a decade.

Sloane never bothered to ask her mother why she named her only child Gertrude; she had always assumed it to be a family name, belonging to a favorite aunt or an almost-forgotten great-great-great grandmother.

What she told herself is that she was named after a great woman in history.

Perhaps Gertrude Bacon, an aeronautical pioneer and writer with contributions in astronomy and botany; or Gertrude Barrows Bennett, an American writer of fantasy and science fiction. Sloane’s personal favorite was Gertrude Blanch, the mathematician.

Gertrude grew up in Washington, DC in an era where the options for black residents were limited. Children from lower-income families were encouraged to enter the military; mid-income parents steered their offspring towards the federal government for the job security, or vocational school to learn a high-earning trade such as cosmetology, barbering, or plumbing.

Even as a child, Trudy, as her mother affectionately called her, was different. She was a voracious reader and loved spending rainy Saturday afternoons curled up in bed with a good book. She didn’t watch the other television shows her friends watched; Trudy was a fan of the Star Trek franchise, religiously watched the PBS science series NOVA, and instead of playing with dolls and makeup, she took anything mechanical apart to find out what made it work, in the hopes of improving it.

But her formative years weren’t comprised of only reading, libraries, and mechanics; her mother insisted that her daughter go outside to play and socialize. Summer days were spent outdoors with her friends and other neighborhood children riding bikes, roller skating, walking to nearby parks, and jumping rope on sidewalks.

It was a decent balance.

Sloane opens the refrigerator door, reaching for leftovers from dinner: Chinese food. She’s of a firm mindset that Chinese food and pasta are the foods of lovers. It was a no-brainer when Khaan asked what she wanted to eat after he proposed.

She methodically sets containers of wonton soup, spicy vegetable dumplings, ginger garlic tofu, and onion fried rice on the counter before reaching for a plate from the overhead cupboards. Khaan and Hamza preferred a cleaner diet; Sloane was not opposed, but expected no flack when she chowed down on cheeseburgers and pepperoni pizza.

University was an eye-opener on many levels for Trudy. The college’s population was a sea of diversity Trudy had never been exposed to before; her uptown DC neighborhood was completely black. Her inner-city schools had been filled with black faces of varying hues. Here, on campus, there were complexions of every color, accents and languages that were foreign to her nation’s capital-domesticated ears.

Academically, she soon discovered that high school wasn’t even a blueprint for navigating higher education. Her achievements, her being named valedictorian, her extracurricular activities meant nothing. Trudy was starting from square one, with only a thirst to learn and know more.

Socially, she found the best way to make friends was to network. While her social anxiety made being around strangers and large crowds difficult, Trudy signed up for the newly formed STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) club, the campus chapter of Hogwarts International (she was House Ravenclaw), and volunteered on the Student Government Association’s board. She began listening to AM radio, home of underground music and arguably, the birthplace of the podcast so that she could contribute to pieces of conversations swirling about her in the food hall.

Slowly, Trudy went from geeky loner to having a small circle of friends which was all she had wanted. She was there for a purpose, not popularity.

On a personal level, Trudy found herself eyeing both male and female classmates; her cheeks would bloom with blush when seeing someone especially attractive, and she would avert her glances when eye contact was made. She had never truly thought about nor questioned her sexuality. She admired physical beauty equally, and if someone caused certain urges to arise, so be it. To Sloane, it was simple: she liked them. In that way. But she never thought to act on anything until William Sloane, her first boyfriend.

William was a business major, with his life planned out for the next 10 years. He was tall, handsome, broad-shouldered, and a known Lothario. It was no wonder he caught Trudy’s eye; for her, the mystery was how she caught his. For a year, they shared study nights, attended concerts headlined by local talent, and found themselves late at night sweaty and tangled in wrinkled sheets before eating bowls of ramen while consuming cheap wine.

After an amicable breakup, Trudy found herself still drawn to the local music scene; she especially liked a group known as Angular Melodies. Trudy found herself traveling to see their shows: Philadelphia, Baltimore, Richmond, Va., and Charleston, SC. It was in the southern coastal town, surrounded by mossy trees, crepe myrtle, and enveloped in the most oppressive humidity known to man that Trudy met members of the band.

She was interested in the female lead singer, who was dating the female bassist. Who happened to have an interest in Trudy.

And that night after the show, in a cheap motel with faulty air conditioning and a bed too small for three bodies, Sloane Washington was born.

Sloane sits on her couch, legs tucked beneath her as she holds her plate of re-heated food. Her eyes are fixed on the television; Something the Lord Made plays on the screen. It’s one of her favorite movies. Her head lifts at the soft slap of bedroom slippers, and she smiles when she sees Khaan. His hair is free of its usual man-bun; he wears striped pajama bottoms and Sloane’s bedroom shoes. His eyes blink owlishly behind his glasses.

“Smells good,” he greets his fiancée as he plops in the sofa beside her.

“Have some,” Sloane offers as she pushes the plate towards him. “I’m getting full.”

“Thank you,” he replies as he takes the food. His eyes look over and meets hers. “For everything.”

Sloane nods before focusing her attention on the screen again.

He acts as if either of us had a choice in the matter.

They both knew their union was built on mutual admiration and respect.

And love. For another person.

Kai Park.

Kai was unlike any person Sloane had ever met before. Free-spirited and slightly irresponsible, but with a wit and knowledge that surprised even Kai herself at times, she breezed easily into Sloane’s life by way of Hayden, whom she had been matched with.

Sloane fought her feelings against Kai; the woman had Damien chasing her like a rabid dog and Hayden wrapped around all her fingers. Fearing rejection, or worse … hurting Hayden’s feelings, Sloane instead forged a friendship with Kai.

It was stepping into the deep end of the ocean without a life jacket.

The more the two women interacted, the deeper Sloane fell. But Kai was falling for Hayden, even after discovering he was not human. She was also torn about her feelings towards Damien.

Sloane revealed that she was bisexual and had been in a polyamorous relationship. It made no difference, and Sloane distanced herself from the friend group until one Richard Cummings was revealed to be a crucial link to bringing down Rowan West and Eros.

Sloane was shocked to discover that Richard Cummings was none other than Khaan Mousavi, the architect of the Matches’ framework. They had worked together previously until Khaan’s mysterious and abrupt departure from Eros. She had always admired Khaan, or rather, Khaan’s keen intelligence and attention to detail.

She respected him.

Kai, however, had different ideas. She had made her choices regarding her love life, and neither Sloane nor Khaan had made the cut. Her thought process was to push the two who hadn’t won her heart together; she teased Sloane constantly about having a crush on Khaan, while foisting the idea of a relationship with Sloane onto Khaan.

The couple knew what Kai was doing, and they were both still so desperately in love with her that they allowed themselves to be “matched” to make her happy. It hadn’t been a bad decision; they had enough in common and had built a professional relationship along with cultivating a deep friendship.

And now they were going to marry.

Kai will be so proud.

Khaan puts the food away while Sloane dozes on the couch. Unknown to them, life is gestating within her body and has been for the past four weeks.

Down on the street, a sleek, black Town Car idles in front of the building. The two backseat passengers clasp hands as they stare up at darkened windows, unsure which ones belong to Sloane.

“They’ve stolen my child,” Soo-jin, Hamza’s mother seethes in a harsh whisper as she brushes dark bangs away from her forehead.

“They’ve taken children from both of us, my dear. They’ll pay. Soon,” Rowan West promises before tapping on the glass partition, signaling the driver to pull off.

 Tagging:  @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations @lizzybeth1986​ @sazanes​ @sloanewashingtonappreciationweek​

[reveluving]

the prettiest of them all

summary: What better way to use a closet mirror, conveniently placed beside the bed than to see you writhe in his arms?

pairing: damien nazario x f!mc (written as ‘you’, no name usage)

warnings: mature/smut (minor DNI!)

a/n: couldn’t just leave our man Nazario out after writing for Beckett, so please enjoy this fic with our favourite private investigator! ‘you’ can be yourself or your OC! and don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another choices fic? check out my m.list!

disclaimer! this is a submission for:

‘CFWC Naughty & Nice’ by @choicesficwriterscreations​ with the prompts (Naughty); “I can’t move.” “That’s the idea.”

‘Picktober: Choices October Challenge’ by @choicesmonthlychallenge​ using the prompts (Kinktober); Biting & Mirrors.

» smut includes; dirty mind, biting obv, fingering, soft!Damien.

'The single piece of furniture, plus your scandalous moans playing in his head on a loop continuously taunting him.' ;

It was hard for Damien to believe that it's been six months since the end of the whole Eros incident. Though he has yet to sleep without waking up in a cold sweat every once in a while, he was definitely getting better by the day.

Plus, with you in his arms at every step of the way, he'd say he's doing pretty good!

Time flies when you're with the right person— as cliché as it sounds, the statement had resonated with him the moment he knew he wanted to be more than just your friend. He remembered Nadia offering him to hang out with the three of you as a thank-you for dealing with her stalker problem. He also remembered having second thoughts about it, considering how he's always ever avoided making friends with his clients. Yet, somehow, it was the need to see you again that pushed him to say yes.

No matter how hard he tried to deny his own feelings, he knew he had no chance of winning, and he'd often thank the universe for it.

So, getting the opportunity to enjoy an entire week in Hawaii with you, especially after a slew of misfortunes and just plain stress in the office, was like dying a hero.

Not that he'd call himself a hero.

Then again, he couldn't say that in front of you. Don't ever say that, you'd probably admonish him, but not out of anger.

Oh, you. Wonderful, wonderful you. Just an embodiment of pure love and hope.

He hasn't moved from his spot ever since he reluctantly let you leave the bed, glancing between the window and the bathroom. He was conflicted between watching the picturesque sunset and seeing you walking to and fro in the bathroom sink as you did your makeup.

You and Damien had just woken up, having been forced to follow Nadia and Steve to visit the local attractions at the crack of dawn. Sloane, Khaan and Hayden's presence made the activity bearable, considering it wasn't just you and Damien in that ten hour-torture. But what could he do? Nadia was the one paying for the trip, so Damien knew better than to bitch and whine about her itinerary.

Plus, Nadia knew he didn't hate it, as long as you were around, you knew your ways of distracting him.

He covered his eyes with one arm, the cloud-like pillow and your humming nearly lulled him back to sleep, only to raise his head at your soft 'fuck!'.

Something about the noise you made immediately had eyes landing on the closet mirror next to him. The single piece of furniture, plus your scandalous moans playing in his head on a loop continuously taunting him.

Fuck it.

And just like, he shot out of bed, unwilling to ignore what he had been wanting to do the second he got here.

Seeing you meticulously work on your lashes, he was nice enough to knock on the door, your expression shifting from extreme focus to a wide grin.

“Morning, handsome,” You joked and yet, you continued with perfecting your wing, “We should be getting ready, Nadia's been torturing my phone for like, 30 minutes now.”

As if on cue, the 'ding!' coming from your phone only supported your explanation, the 17th message from none other than Mrs Park herself.

Damien answered you with a hum, leaning against the door frame and watching you with his sharp eyes. He took in your current appearance; Dazzling and downright luscious, dressed to the nines, despite the lack of clothing covering you up. A naughty little vixen. A single taste of you and his self-restraints will immediately snap.

“Damien?” You didn’t look back at him, despite his lack of response, only for you to freeze up when he came up to you ever so slowly. The way he approached you with such a look made you feel like a prey, a thought that you couldn’t help yourself as you rubbed your thighs together.

He must’ve noticed it, chuckling as he stood behind you, his erection barely hiding behind his briefs as he pinned you against the counter.

“What are you doing?” You finally met his eyes in the mirror, giving him a nervous giggle.

“Just… appreciating.”

“Yeah? Well, do you mind if you…” You motioned him to step back with your free hand, “Move back a little?”

“Now, why would I do that?” His voice got deeper as if your question had offended him despite the mischief in his tone. You only thought of putting the brush down when he placed both of his hands on either side of you, trapping you between his hard chest and the counter.

“I… I can’t move.” The prominent bulge was impossible to ignore, especially when he began rolling his hips into your backside. You choked out a gasp, the mascara was long forgotten as it dropped to the floor, hints of ink smearing the marble top when it slipped out of your fingers.

“That’s the idea.”

He didn't give you the time to process and dragged you out to the bedroom, carrying you via bridal style. Your demands to put you down were as effective as a Pomeranian yapping at its owner, with Damien's chest reverberating with laughter against you.

Surprisingly, instead of placing you down on the bed as you expected, he sat on the edge of the bed, which faced the unexplainably long mirror. Damien knew he got you exactly where he wanted the second he heard your breath hitching, and he knew it wasn’t only because he had you on his lap.

It was the first thing you noticed when you checked in, the placement and sheer size of it drove your mind to run wild. It didn’t last long, though, for you were forced to snap out of it when Damien came in seconds later. But you should’ve known better than to think he didn’t notice, too focused on the idea of being ravished in front of it to see the smug on his face. You lied when he asked if you were okay, answering him ever so softly without meeting his gaze before running off to the bathroom ‘to change into your bikini’ despite forgetting to grab your swimwear out of your luggage.

Since then, his imagination, too, became anything but appropriate, though if he wasn’t being honest, he would’ve thought about it regardless. But the real problem was finding the right time for it. Since the very first day, he had you bouncing on his cock in the luxurious bathtub and has gone down on you in the sauna but not once have the two of you used the bed. Whether it was because you were too tired or too comfortable in the sheets, and in Damien’s arms no less, it didn’t matter anymore, because he was going to change that.

To hell with Nadia’s plans tonight, he had other priorities.

The way his warm breath tickled your neck as he perched his chin on your shoulder, his calloused hands running up and down your hips before settling them on your top. He grazed his teeth across your neck, easily finding the sweet spot that sent shivers down your spine. He didn’t spare you a second before biting into the soft skin, huffing out in amusement when you choked out a gasp, writhing in his arms, and he didn’t just do it once.

He didn’t want just one hickey on your pretty neck, after all.

He fondled your breasts, feeling your nipples tighten under the material. He dragged the top down, the material folding under your breasts and accentuating your assets. His mouth was dying to latch onto your nipples, but he was already too entranced by the current view in front of him. That didn’t mean who wouldn’t do it later.

He never said he’d be done with it after one round.

And the second his fingers brushed against your sensitive bud, he knew you were done for.

The way his fingers pumped in and out of your pussy had you squirming in his lap, his lips unconsciously parting with yours as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He didn’t even bother removing your panties, opting to move the offending material aside before easing in his thick, middle finger. The more he curled his fingers into you, the more you soaked both his briefs, down to the bedsheets. Not that he gave a shit anyway. In fact, it was exactly what he wanted to see, the same way he wanted to hear that delicious squelching.

Your head rolled back, resting it against his shoulder as he leaned in and whispered.

“Open your eyes, mi vida,” You whined, both from the nickname and how his voice went so far as to make you tighten around his fingers. He growled at the sensation, but managed to keep it together before continuing, “Look at yourself in the mirror and see how gorgeous you are.”

You tried to, you really did, but with the way rolled his hips against yours, it was almost impossible to even open your eyes, let alone keep your head up.

So, he helped you out.

His other hand moved from your waist, his fingers sliding from the valley of your breasts, tits now hard from when he rolled them just moments ago, before holding you by the jaw. It was nowhere near rough, but enough to help you look up.

If it wasn’t for Damien, you would’ve looked away just as quickly, your body growing hotter than you thought was possible at the sight; your skin glowing from the sheen of sweat and dim light coming from the bathroom, his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your tight hole and those blown out pupils of his as he watched you, right before his eyes met yours, now far less innocent of a situation then your brief conversation in the bathroom earlier.

“Cancel our plans,” You didn’t even know what he was talking about at first, not especially when he turned your head to look at him, hair disheveled and looking feral, “I want you to see how beautiful you cum in the mirror. Over and over again.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

[endless-courtesan]

choices edit meme - Favorite Books (1/5)

perfect match / “the way it makes me feel is just… indescribable.”

[zig-a-zow]

I just HAD to share this little bit of polyamorous goodness with everyone because it made my heart full ❤️ This series will be sorely missed 😢

[bi-outta-cordonia]

T H O R S T

[mysteli]

Watch PB pull another ES stunt and throw away any build up with Eros by making them ridiculously easy to take down, have multiple endings and make MC a fucking robot and sacrifice herself or Keegan, who may or may not turn out to be the real human. 

[walkerismychoice]

Hey, I just wanted to say your Khaan x MC gave me both life and the closure I needed (since PB didn't deliver…) simultaneously and if you ever decided to write more fics about them I would happily give you my first born (unicorn)

Thank you so much for this message. It really does mean so much to me to hear things like this. I do already owe poor @frugalchoicer another Khaan fic from a million years ago, so now I know two people would read it, I pretty much have to write it. I can tag you if/when I do write it if you would like.

I'm seriously conditioned like a dog, guys. Give me enough praise and encouragement and I'll write whatever you want 😂

[littlecrookedheart]

Merry & Bright : The Twelve Days of Choices FicMas

Prompt 9, Santa Claus is Coming to Town

Pairing : Khaan x Dakota & Hamza

Rating : FLUFF

Word Count : 3,985

Disclaimer : I do not own any characters mentioned that are found in the choices universe.

“Do you like it, ‘Koda?”

Hamza outstretched his little hand, a tiny wooden ornament with a blue blob painted in the center sat in his palm. The corner very sloppily read, ‘HAMZA’ in full capital lettering, white dots plopped on the empty spaces.

“I love this, Hamza. Thank you!”

“Do you know what it is? That's Bopper! And he's dancing in the snow!”

“Bopper is the new velociraptor Hamza's babysitter gave him for Christmas,” Khaan smiled, sitting next to Dakota on the sofa.

“I quite love Bopper. He's such a great dancer, too. Did you teach him?”

Hamza shot to his feet, shuffling them as he used his arms to make waves.

“I'd say so,” Dakota giggled, joining Hamza in his arm wave dance.

“‘Koda, daddy says you and me get to make cookies for Santa. We have to make sure they have no gluten ‘cuz we don't know if he's allergic. ‘Kay?”

“I think that's very thoughtful of you. What kind of cookies?”

“I think we have the ingredients for cacao chip cookies and stevia gingerbread. What’ll it be, Lil’ Sprout?”

“Um…’Koda can pick. I just wanna make them look like Bopper!”

“I don't think they make cookie cutters in the shape of Bopper, Hamza.” Dakota said, taking a drink of their tea, the steam rising off of it similarly to the smoke of Khaan's seasonal incense.

“Actually,” Khaan stood up and walked over to the kitchen, opening a drawer and pulling out a mesh bag of various dinosaur shaped cookie cutters. He reached inside, sorting through them quickly and held up one with a blue silicone grip. “They do, and we have one.”

“I stand corrected.”

Hamza zoomed to the kitchen, knocking his knee on the side of the couch. He fell to the floor, eyes welling with tears.

“Ow!” He cried, quickly looking up between his dad and Dakota for assurance.

“Can you bend it?” Dakota asked, kneeling next to him. Khaan joined them, helping Hamza move his leg.

“Yeah…”

“I think all is well, Sprout.”

“Here, I'll get an ice pack.” Dakota grabbed a beaded gel pack from the freezer, gently pressing it to Hamza's knee. A bruise was starting to form, a purple splotch just beneath his kneecap. “How about you go change into your pajamas and we can prop your leg on the couch while the cookies bake? The cold will help it feel better.”

“Go on, I'll be there in just a second to check on you,” Khaan nodded.

Hamza sniffled and went to his room, stopping to pick up Bopper on the way.

“Thank you,” Khaan whispered, reaching over to brush Dakota's face with the side of his hand. “You're really great with him.”

“He makes it easy to be. When you called me earlier, I was just as excited to see him as I was to see you. You're both wonderful.”

He sighed, a genuine grin spreading across his face.

“You're wonderful, too.”

“Daddy?” Hamza called from his room, “I wanna take a bath!”

“Okay Sprout, I'm coming!” He turned back to Dakota, “It won't take long.”

“Take your time.”

Khaan pressed a small kiss to Dakota's forehead, rushing down the hall to meet Hamza.

With a bit of time on their hands, Dakota pulled up a gluten free cookie recipe on their phone and began preparing the two types of dough, mixing in cacao chips and holiday spices. Afterwards, they covered each bowl and stuck it in the fridge, filling a kettle with fresh water to heat up before sitting down.

Dakota leaned back on the couch, closing their eyes for a moment, a smile spreading across their lips at the sound of Khaan and Hamza laughing. This is what home feels like, huh?

Hamza peeked out his room, skipping down the hall.

“Okay! ‘Koda, come on! We got a present for you.”

“It's not Christmas just yet,” Dakota said, turning to see Hamza in a red and green striped pajama set, his arms outstretched with a wrapped gift in his hands. “You look like you’re ready for Santa! What's this?”

“Daddy said I can give it to you! We gotta be ready for when Santa comes.”

Kneeling to meet Hamza's height, Dakota took the present and smiled. “You sure?”

“Yep!”

“Okay. Wanna help?”

Hamza nodded, tearing the paper open to reveal a white box. Lifting the cover off, he laughed at Dakota's raised brow reaction.

“Isn't it cool? We can match.”

“This is very cool, Hamza! Did you pick these out?” Dakota unfolded an identical pajama set, unable to hold back a grin.

“Actually, that was me.”

Khaan strolled down the hall, turning in his own matching jammies as if he were walking a runway.

“Wow.”

The three of them burst into laughter, Hamza doubling over in exaggeration.

“Go put ‘em on, ‘Koda. Then we can make Santa's cookies!”

“Okay. Can you keep an eye on that kettle?”

Hamza nodded, eyes widening.

“When it whistles, tell your dad it's time for -” they moved in closer to his ear, whispering, “Hot chocolate!”

“‘Kay!” He grinned and plopped onto the couch, facing the kitchen

“He's feeling better, then?” Dakota asked, heading down the hall to change.

“Miraculous recovery. Don't you know? That happens often with small children.”

Khaan followed closely behind, stopping at the doorway of the bathroom.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Don't you ever think you have to ask me that,” Dakota sighed, pulling him more in the doorway and out of Hamza's sight. His arms around them were like pillars of strength, lips slightly quivering as they met in a deep rush.

“I'll let you change,” he said, brushing a hand through Dakota's hair. “I think I hear the kettle.”

--

Hamza threw his head back as he cackled loudly, “Ehheheheh!” as he dumped the entirety of a container of sprinkles onto the cookie dough, spreading them all around.

“I hope Santa likes sprinkle overload,” Dakota joked, using the dinosaur cookie cutters to pop out shapes, setting them down on a pan.

“I hope Santa likes overly excited, hyped up children!”

Khaan rolled balls of dough onto the sheet, popping each pan into the oven.

“Okay! Time to clean up now,” Hamza reached for a cloth on the counter, “I'll do the wipe down. Daddy? You gots to spray it.”

Khaan winked at Dakota, pulling a spray bottle out from under the sink. “Set the timer, please.”

Dakota spun the timer backward, helping them clean the counters up.

“Santa is gonna love ‘em, isn't he?”

“Of course he will, Lil’ Sprout. You made them very festive and they already smell delicious.”

“I love cookies. Wanna sing a song? ‘Koda, do you know the song with Donner?”

“Donner? The reindeer?”

“Yep!” Hamza pulled a small wooden step stool in front of the sink, sudsing his hands as he sang, “...Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzer! But do you remember the most best reindeer of all….”

“Oh!” Dakota flung their arm around Khaan, singing, “Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose-”

“But did you ever saw it, you would even say it glows!”

Khaan chuckled and shook his head before belting, “All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names-”

“They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games- take it away Hamza!”

Hamza jumped off of the stool, swinging his arms around as if he were playing guitar, “Then one foggy Christmas eve, Santa came to say HO HO HO-”

Khaan swept him in his arms, spinning around as the two of them sang, “Rudolph with your nose so bright! Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?”

“Then all the reindeer loved him, as they shouted out with glee-”

“Rudolph, the bestest reindeer, you'll go down in history!”

Hamza ran to the couch, Khaan and Dakota speeding after him, covering his ribs in tickles. He shrieked, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe before yelling out,

“I'm gonna pee! I'm gonna pee!”

“Oh! Get to the potty then, Stomper!”

Hamza ran into the bathroom, giggling as he closed the door behind him.

Dakota panted, trying to catch their breath, “I bet this never gets old.”

“He keeps me young. He loves having you around, you know. He's so much more vibrant.”

Their eyes twinkled, crinkling at the corners, “Khaan, I-”

“I'm done peeing and I washed my hands!”

Khaan cleared his throat, “Yeah? Did you flush?”

Hamza paused in his step, turning back to the bathroom to flush the toilet.

--

“Daddy, can ‘Koda tuck me in?”

“Of course,” he smiled, kissing the top of his son’s head, “Sweet dreams, Sprout.”

“Love you!”

“I love you, too,” he said, closing the leftover cookies in Tupperware containers before rolling up his sleeves to finish the dishes.

Hamza snuggled into the couch, teeth freshly brushed and eyelids heavy.

“‘Koda, did you ever meet Santa before?”

“I can't say I have.”

Dakota tucked the blanket under Hamza's sides, handing him an extra throw to hold close.

“Do you know Santa goes all over the world? He brings everybody one present and it's ‘upposed to make us happy for Christmas.”

“The whole world?!”

“Yep! Daddy says he gots to start way before Christmas here, because some other places are Christmas yesterday.”

“Santa is one very nice person, isn't he?”

“Yep!” Hamza yawned, “What did you ask him for this year?”

“To spend Christmas with my best boys,” Dakota sighed, patting Hamza's arm, “And he gave me that, didn't he?”

“‘Koda?”

“Yeah?”

Hamza's eyes were closed, face halfway hidden behind his blanket, “You’re my best friend.”

Dakota smiled and whispered, “And you're mine, Hamza.”

--

Dakota stood up and made their way to Khaan, gently brushing his back and kissing his shoulder.

“He's asleep.”

“Thank you for tucking him in.”

“Of course.”

Khaan dried his hands on a towel, leaning his back against the fridge. He looked sad, almost, concerned.

“What's bothering you?”

“Am I so obvious?” he ran a hand over his face, looking toward Hamza. “I feel like I'm doing something awful by lying to him.”

“About what? Santa?”

Khaan nodded, shrugging.

“He's five, he should have something magical to believe in.”

“I'm unsure of the best way to go about this. I don't want him to have false hope.”

“Did you believe in Santa growing up?”

“I did. When I was nine, kids at school told me the truth. I didn't confront my parents, but I didn't pretend to believe anymore once I'd learned that it was all fabrication.”

“Did you ever have animosity toward your parents for telling you that Santa was real?”

“Of course not. I didn't understand why they had, but I never felt negatively toward them.”

“Why would he feel that way toward you, then?”

Khaan sighed, looking toward Dakota, unable to meet their eyes.

“He wouldn't, you know. Hamza is a great kid.”

“Dakota, I am so afraid to hurt him.”

“How could you ever hurt him? You love him so much, so wholly, you’re always putting yourself last in every single situation. You give him the world. You do everything you can for him.”

“I want to be the father he deserves. I give my all...I'm just afraid I won't live up to my own expectations.”

Dakota reached across the counter, taking Khaan's hand in both of theirs.

“You have to get out of your head, darling. Look at me.”

They moved around the counter, sidling up next to Khaan, placing one hand on his cheek, the other on his waist.

“You are the most loving, kind, incredible father I've ever known. Hamza loves you more than you'll ever believe. Please be kinder to yourself.”

Khaan's face flushed in heat, making him turn away briefly. “Thank you.”

Dakota's lips sprinkled kisses across his face, a smile forming on them as they pulled away.

“Hamza is happy, Khaan. You deserve to be, too. He'll be even happier if he sees you smiling as much as you deserve. You don't have to sacrifice your happiness in order for him to love his life. Look at him,” they gestured toward the couch where Hamza slept, his hand tightly holding Bopper, cheek smashed into the cushion. “He's living the life already.”

Khaan chuckled, brushing a thumb over Dakota's lips.

“You're right. I must be doing something right to have a kid like him.”

“Exactly,” they grinned, “You’re the magic Hamza sees in Santa. He just doesn't know it yet.”

Khaan choked back a sob, shaking it off. His gaze caught on the flickers of tree lights in Dakota's eyes, their hazel swirls seeming to illuminate a golden glow. He took a breath, pressing his forehead to theirs, “I can never be as happy as I desire.”

“Don't say that.”

“I can't lose my inhibitions, not when I have someone else to protect.”

Dakota's brow furrowed slightly, drawing both arms around Khaan, pulling him into an embrace.

“Just...let me keep making you smile. That's all I want from you.”

“I can't tell you how much I wish...”

“You don't have to, believe me. I already know.”

Khaan moved to kiss them, lips soft and comforting against one another, slowly dancing together as if they'd never missed a beat. Like fighting a current, Dakota broke the affection, swallowing hard as to shake away the emotion welling in their chest.

“We should try to sleep.”

“You're right. That little stomper will be awake before we know it.”

Khaan gently met Dakota's lips once more before leading them to the couch, lacing his fingers with theirs as he dozed off.

-

“Khaan, wake up.”

“Hmm?”

“Seriously, wake up.”

Dakota's voice was faint, barely there. Their eyes were fixated across the room, nodding toward the Christmas tree.

“What is it?” Khaan reached for his glasses, blinking vigorously when he saw what Dakota did. “What...is that?”

A flurry of silver and gold orbs bounced like sparks near the tree, a center of many of their lights formed together.

“I've never seen anything like-”

“Listen!” Dakota whispered, holding a hand out to pause him.

At first he was met with silence, only the tick of the kitchen clock filling the room. But then, as if all at once,he heard the most beautiful chime, an undeniable chorus of bells in the distance. Khaan looked to Dakota with wonder in his eyes and stood up instinctively, slowly approaching the light show near the tree. He jerked his arm back after reaching out, a deep chill surging through him.

“Are you okay?”

“They're freezing cold and warm at the same time,” he said, his eyes wide, “This is going to sound unbelievable...impossible, even, but it's like I saw something…”

Dakota crossed the room, reaching both hands out. As the orbs scattered reflections across their skin, a mixture of vanilla and pine filled the air, memories of childhood Christmases rushing forward. They turned to Khaan, taking his hand to feel the lights once more.

Khaan's face lit up as he watched Dakota open a miniature piano on their tenth Christmas, the aroma of baking pies in the air. The sound of laughter, a young Dakota in the kitchen eating candy, their grandmother finishing a knit sweater. And then pure light, Dakota's face the moment he'd revealed his feelings to them, and moments that hadn't happened ever before - Hamza and Dakota sledding down a hill together, Khaan's fingers placing a golden band behind a pillow. An older version of Hamza, smiling at the foot of a staircase in a tuxedo, Dakota snapping pictures with tears in their eyes. ‘It’s just prom!’ ‘Prom is a huge deal!’

Khaan blinked away the mist in his eyes, pulling his trembling hand away.

“What did you see?” They asked, leaning closer to him.

“You were young... I saw your grandma knitting...and a little piano. You were so happy.”

“So were you,” Dakota giggled, “I saw you open your first chemistry set.”

“What is this, Dewdrop?”

“Santa's magic,” Hamza yawned, sitting up on the couch.

“Hey, Sprout. Sorry we woke you.” Khaan crawled over, sitting on the floor next to Hamza's spot on the couch.

“Did he do it?”

“Hmm?” Dakota asked, running a hand through the dancing lights again.

“Did he help you? I asked Santa to help you know what you really want for Christmas.”

“What do you mean, buddy?” Khaan asked, softly patting Hamza's knee.

“ ‘Cuz remember? I said, ‘What did you ask Santa for this year?’ and you said, ‘I don't know.’ So I said to Santa in my letter that Fiona helped me write, ‘Dear Santa, for Christmas I want you to help my daddy remember what he wants and then give it to him! Because this year I got a lot of presents for my birthday and I really want daddy to have a present too!’”

Khaan smiled, glancing to Dakota before hugging his son with one arm.

“That was really kind of you, Lil’ Sprout. But you know, Santa will still bring you a gift.”

“Well, what are those? Are those my presents?” Hamza pointed to the lights.

“I thought you said they were magic!” Dakota smiled, taking his hand, “Wanna feel?”

Hamza's face brightened, nodding quickly.

“I'm not so sure if that's-”

“Please, daddy? I promise, just one time!”

Khaan gave a nod, watching as Hamza spun in a circle beneath the shimmers.

Suddenly, the lights dissipated, a wave of glitter bursting from each of them, raining down around him. The sound of the bells seemed to surround the room, the twinkling tree lights buzzing brighter, and in a split second -

“Santa!” Hamza shrieked, pointing out the window before running over to it.

Khaan and Dakota looked out, mouths falling open in perfect synchronization. Hamza giggled profusely, bouncing up and down, “Santa!”

The silhouette of a reindeer led sleigh dashed across the sky, glimmers of orbed lights following closely behind. The gift pile under the tree had grown substantially, leaving Khaan with a quizzical look on his face and Hamza with a racing heart.

“Daddy, can we open one?”

“In the morning, Sprout, you need your sleep.”

“Just one? Please? Then I'll sleep, I promise!”

“Please?” Dakota chimed, falling to their knees next to Hamza, “We deserve it!”

“You both deserve the naughty list,” Khaan laughed, passing both of them a gift labeled from The North Pole.

Hamza ripped open the paper, thrusting a stuffed stegosaurus into the air. “Just like I wanted!”

“Whoa! How cool is he?” Dakota grinned, petting the toy. “What's his name?”

“Um...Nelson.”

“Very cool. Nice to meet you, Nelson!”

“What did you get, ‘Koda?”

“Let's see.” Dakota opened a small box, a folded piece of paper sitting in the center. They unfolded it, covering their mouth in awe. “Hamza...did you draw this?”

Hamza leaned over and smiled, “Yep! How the heck did Santa get that?” He turned away, wrapping his toy in a hug as he buried his face back into his pillow.

Khaan leaned over, tucking the blanket around his son, gently brushing his hair as he fell asleep.

Dakota sat between the couch and the tree, running their fingers through the air where the orbs had been. Khaan sat cross legged next to them, resting a hand on their thigh.

“Can I see what you got?”

They passed Khaan the paper, eyes glistening as they looked away from him. Inside was a crayon drawing of three stick figures holding hands, each labeled underneath. Across the top was scribbled yellow flowers and the words, “My family.”

The first, drawn in green, with black glasses, “Daddy.”

In the middle, a short one drawn in blue, “Me”

At the end, drawn in purple with curly hair, “Koda.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“It says everything,” Dakota said, their eyes brimming in tears, “I need for you to know something.”

“What is it, dewdrop?” Khaan pulled them close, concerned and very confused at the entirety of the nights happenings.

Dakota sniffled and laughed, looking to Hamza.

“He is the smartest, funniest, most amazing kid I've ever met.”

“He is pretty great, isn't he?”

“He's incredible. You've done such a wonderful job raising him, Khaan. He has the best man to look up to.”

“I don't know if I can take all of the credit-”

“No, stop. Please take my compliment. You never, ever let me tell you how perfect you are.”

“I'm not perfect, dewdrop. But I won't fight you on it. Thank you. You are rather perfect to me, too.”

“I love you.”

Khaan tilted his head, meeting Dakota's gaze as they continued, “I don't want anything from you. This never has to be anything more than it is right now, but I need for you to know that I love you, and I love your son. You are everything to me.”

“Dakota, I-”

“‘Koda?”

Hamza reached outward, patting Dakota's shoulder from where he lay.

“What's up, buddy?”

Eyes still closed, he drowsily mumbled, “We love you too.”

Dakota chuckled as tears ran down their face, rubbing Hamza's back as he fell back asleep. They curled up on the couch, smiling once more at Khaan before closing their eyes, too.

“He's right, you know,” Khaan whispered, wrapping his arms around them, pressing a warm kiss to their neck. “We really, really love you.”

--- a year later

“Look at my handsome boys!” Dakota beamed, finding Hamza and Khaan already dressed in their Christmas Eve pajamas, each of them with a mug of cocoa.

“Go change, ‘Koda! We wanna watch Polar Express!”

“Okay, okay! I thought you wanted cookies,” Dakota giggled, passing a plate of warm gingerbread men to Khaan.

“I was the one who wanted these. He's just ready to wait for Santa again.”

“I'm not waiting for Santa this year!”

“How come?” Dakota asked, sticking their head out of the bathroom as they changed into their pajamas, “Last year was so fun!”

“Because I already know he's real. Besides, daddy already got his best present.”

“My best present was you, Sprout.”

“My best present was Bopper.”

“My best present was both of you,” Dakota grinned, sitting between the two on the couch.

Hamza snuggled up to them, dancing in his seat as the title screen popped up. Khaan and Dakota joined in, swaying back and forth for a moment before pressing play.

-

“The first gift of christmas!” Santa Claus announced, holding up a silver bell on the screen.

Khaan reached behind Dakota, tapping Hamza on the shoulder. He stirred in his seat, climbing behind the couch.

“What are you doin’, silly?”

“Getting the first gift of christmas! Close your eyes!”

“Open your hands,” Khaan said, covering Dakota's palm with his own.

“Okay ‘Koda, open your eyes.”

“Okay...what's this about?”

“We love you!” Hamza smiled, two of his baby teeth missing from the front of his mouth.

“We want to know…”

“Do you wanna?”

Dakota's eyebrows raised, a look of confusion in their eyes, “Do I wanna what?”

Khaan laughed, rolling his eyes. “What Hamza meant to say is-”

“Oh! Do you wanna be a Mousavi!”

Dakota's chest filled with an ache, a deeply embedded rush of emotion, their heart feeling as if it had dropped completely to the ground.

“What?”

Khaan moved his hand, revealing a thin golden band in Dakota's palm. Dakota gasped, speechless, staring at the ring.

“Say yes,” Hamza whispered, taking a bite of a gingerbread man.

“Yes. Yes! Of course I do!”

Khaan wrapped his son and new fiancé in an embrace, his glasses fogging slightly as his eyes misted over.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he sobbed, pressing kisses to both of their faces.

“Ew, dad! That's gross!”

Dakota chuckled, wiggling their eyebrows at Khaan as he pulled back, face stained with tears.

“So we’re gonna be a real family now?” Hamza asked, mouth full of cookie.

Khaan smiled, kissing Dakota's cheek tenderly, “We already are.”

[lizzybeth1986]

Harvest Moon

Book: Perfect Match

Rating: PG

Pairings: Basil Park (m!MC) x Sage Young (f!Hayden), Basil Park x Sloane Washington, Kim Washington

Summary: It's Sage's first ever birthday! And what better way to celebrate it than a fun road trip to a place where they can see the last supermoon of the year - just her, Basil, Sloane and Kim. But this time might be a little different - because this time around, Kim knows Sage is a Match...

Word Count: 4, 099 words

Note: While looking up this year's celestial sightings would be, I discovered that 29th Sept is when we will see the last supermoon of the year. PM is set in the future but for sure I felt like it would be just extra special for me to do a similar setting for a birthday fic 😁 The events of this fic are referenced in "Saffron Sugar, Turmeric Spice"

--

Sage is pretty sure no one-year-old has ever had a birthday surprise quite like this one.

Though technically, there was no way it could have been a surprise. This road trip was planned and booked two months in advance, Sloane and Kim have been wanting to check out Cherry Springs State Park's dark sky view for a while, and Basil and Sage have checked the Yearly Astronomical Reference Guide on seasky.org often enough to know that the very last supermoon you'll see this year, will make an appearance on Sage's birthday.

Sure, there are people who'll wonder at the wisdom of driving five hours for a view they could enjoy anywhere in New York. But combining road trips and amateur astronomy is a family tradition. Their family tradition. A tradition the Washington women created and enjoyed themselves; a tradition both Sage and Basil both love. Because the Washingtons are their family.

Sage lets out a low, trembling sigh, and clutches her jacket closer to her body.

Were, she reminds herself, maybe "were my family" is the better phrase to use here. Would still be, if she hadn't opened her big mouth on a visit to DC last week. While Kim stood outside her door, frozen in stunned silence.

The memory is humiliating enough now to make Sage train her eyes with unusual focus outside the car window. She doesn't want to see the worry in Basil's eyes, or the pleas to talk to her in Sloane's.

She isn't sure what she'll see in Kim's, because it's been hard maintaining eye contact with her ever since that moment in the doorway - but she knows for sure whatever warmth she'd seen there before must be long gone.

On the face of it, everything seems the same. After that awkward first day, Kim seemed eager to steer things back to normal. So normal, in fact, that it began to freak Sage out.

It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to talk like everything was okay, while their stares and body language said something else altogether. Damien's wariness. Khaan's clinical interest. Winona's transparent-as-glass attempts to look away from her shoulder. The brief flash of pain in President Thompson's eyes every time she saw Sage. And while there's been enough press releases and outreach designed to change public opinion on sentient andriods....the path to real transformation is slow. And hard. And sometimes downright exhausting.

Sage is tired. She doesn't want to have to go through conversations like that again. And to have Kim - the woman she considered mom even before they met - be the person she had that talk with...would practically break her.

Better to keep off that eventuality for as long as she possibly can.

"Sage, baby," Kim says, distractedly, eyes on the road. "Which song next? Come Fly With Me, Fly Me to The Moon or The Girl from Ipenama?"

Nervous, Sage bites her lip. Kim has never had this much trouble choosing Sinatra songs on a road trip before. Still, maybe guessing why Kim would want these tunes in particular would distract her. The first one probably for the travel vibes. The second fits the theme of their trip and Sage suspects Kim would put the third one on just to get her to translate the Spanish verses again.

"Come Fly With Me for now," she says, "I don't care if it's about going on a plane and reminds me how sick and tired we all got of airplane peanuts last year - it's still a travel song."

Kim's laughter is light like a summer breeze, as she fiddles with the radio. Sloane joins her, her voice so like her mother's that they sound like double echoes. Sage can see the swing of her new earrings as Sloane turns to look at them. Bright yellow hoops that contrast so perfectly with her purple blazer, the spiral-like curls at the edges intricate and made entirely of paper.

Sage feels a glow of pride, looking at the immaculate detailing. Kim had taken up quilling as a hobby only early this year, and already her craftwork could rival any seasoned professional.

"Wonder how Dipper's doing," Sloane murmurs, suddenly rummaging inside her bag for her phone, "maybe I should give Nadia and Steve a call?"

"In the lap of luxury, for sure," Basil says, smiling.

"That dog is so spoiled," Sage lets out an unladylike snort.

Kim looks too preoccupied with the road to say anything, but no more than two minutes later the song on the car radio changes. To a song that Sage is pretty damn sure isn't a regular one on their playlist. Mama Will Bark. With its humourous whimsy, terrible dog puns and periodic howling. Sage almost chokes on her own laugh.

Her eyes meet Kim's in the front view mirror for less than a second; so belief that she's convinced she has to have imagined that Kim winked at her.

--

Basil and Sloane give Sage her birthday gift at the Campgrounds, just before sunset. She gasps at the beauty she's just unwrapped - A GoPro Hero 35 Black camera kit; the Creator Edition Bundle, the kind that comes with a chest mount, a head mount, a tripod - the works. It's the kind of camera that would work like magic any time, any terrain, any weather. An adventure lover's dream.

"Wow..." she breathes, her chest tight, "Fucking wow."

Behind them, Kim clears her throat. Very audibly.

Spying from beneath her lashes, Sage spots a slight smile. "Oops," she says, not feeling very sorry at all. Secret jokester that she is, Kim likes to front like she cares about the group's collective tendency to cuss at the drop of a hat, but does such a poor job of it that it's become an inside joke among them all now.

Kim chuckles. "What say we all take a small walk after half an hour?"

The three of them nod, and stuff the wrapping paper and used tapes into a bag they've reserved just for garbage, to be thrown at the sanitary dump area before they leave the premises. Basil looks around the near-empty expanse of greenery, "We could go now if you want, Kim."

A small huff of laughter. "Not yet. The moon will be out any minute now. Go put that camera to good use and...moongaze, I guess...I'll just take care of a few things in the tent."

Soon enough, the harvest moon does come out - more swollen, more rounded, more golden than the full moon they're all used to. Its colouring takes on an almost ombre tone - a light gold at the top, melting into an almost red-orange hue towards the bottom. It feels so close you could be tempted to reach out and touch it.

It wasn't like they didn't know what to expect. Sloane told them. Showed them videos, pictures, all peppered with jargon they could barely understand. Explained the science so that by the time they came here they knew that, technically, this was an optical illusion caused by the moon's elliptical orbit. They knew what a perigee was. Enough documentary nights have passed between the three of them to make the moon sound like less of an object of magic and whimsy, and more a funny little rock that orbits the earth every 28 days.

But...but seeing it up there like this, up in a sky unmarred by smog and bright lights, where on any other night the Milky Way would be laid out across the sky like a carpet of stars. And so close, that you could make out - ever so faintly - the lattice work of the craters and the fine lines that connect them. Sage wonders at the sheer intimacy of this experience; of being here, watching this, with the two people who mean the world to her.

"Yknow what," she murmurs, rummaging through boxes and protective cases and quickly setting up the GoPro, "now would be a good time to try this baby out. Like, it is my birthday."

Basil grins. "I'm game," he says looking at Sloane, "have any ideas, babe?"

Sloane looks up, nose scrunched in deep thought. "Would silhouettes take too much time? The moon could shift position too soon if we don't time it right."

"Leave that to me," Sage says, smirking. "I'm the photographer here, remember?"

Sloane rolls her eyes in a way that reminds them eerily of Alana. "I built you from scratch a year ago, remember?"

"Touché," Sage chuckles as she gets to work. The setup isn't easy, and the fact that the moon could shift position anytime makes Sage's movements almost frenetic, but just as she is about to signal to Basil and Sloane to move together for a silhouette shot perfectly set up on the backdrop of a Harvest Moon, she sees Sloane approach her.

"You're the birthday girl," she says, panting, "You should get first dibs on a shot."

Sage giggles. "Trust you to spoil me as much as you do Dipper." She makes a few final adjustments, then turns to Sloane. "You know how to work this?"

"Sure I do. I looked up at least 8 - no, 9 - tutorials!"

She lets out a belly laugh, playfully punching Sloane in the shoulder. "Show off."

Sloane has only one instruction to Basil and Sage when they finally position themselves to her satisfaction. They're already in each other's arms; Sage winding hers behind his neck and fiddling idly with the mess of curls there, Basil flattening his palms against her waist, nuzzling her nose with his.

"Kiss already!" Sloane yells.

Basil grins. "As the lady wishes," Sage barely hears the words over the rush of sensation flooding her, as his mouth descends on her top lip. She smiles into the kiss, her hands already moving to fist themselves in his shirt.

Almost a year since they first met, since that first life-altering kiss outside his apartment door. So much has happened to them since then...but still. Her pulses still race like it's the first time all over again.

Sage takes a deep, shaky breath when their lips part, her forehead touching his, not fully ready to break contact yet. She caresses his back slowly as she lets go, and she knows that the biggest, goofiest, sappiest grin must be showing on her face right now.

She calls out to Sloane as she makes her way to where she's standing. "Your turn, space princess!"

Sage lines up her shot and stands back, noting with satisfaction that the moon looks suitably large - overwhelmingly so - and still very close to the horizon. Basil and Sloane's silhouettes stand out perfectly against the backdrop; Sloane cups his face with both hands as she usually does, her shoulders folding in on themselves as she allows herself to settle into their kiss. Sage knows it's always been this way between them; sharing physical space isn't easy for Sloane, and she needs a partner who will ease her in rather than rush her.

Sage doesn't know what that feels like - she needs an element of surprise, the thrill of brief, needy kisses in hidden hallways. She's always been the more tactile one - for her, touch is comfort. And somehow, inexplicably, Basil seems to understand both their ways of loving, and enjoy it. Love it, even.

Stop being sappy, Sage shakes her head, laughing, you're gonna take the best damn pictures of them they've ever seen, just wait.

The camera captures everything - Sloane standing on tiptoe to kiss Basil, one of his hands tenderly cradling the back of her neck and the other wrapped around her, the shape of their parted lips so heart-stoppingly close as they move away. Sage has taken so many that it will probably be harder to pick the best one from the lot.

They take more pictures by the moon (Kim pops by shortly after Sage's last shots of Basil and Sloane, telling them she'll take fifteen more minutes before joining them for their walk). Sloane and Sage forming the cheesiest-ever heart shapes with their arms, making Basil laugh so much they're sure his photos will come out a blurry, incoherent mess. Spotting a nightjar on a low branch, lining the shot up so its silhouette is caught in sharp contrast to the supermoon too.

Sage wants to take other, simpler pictures: just them sitting and talking, the moonlight casting a golden glow over their faces...but she can't. She won't. Without Kim, pictures like that would feel incomplete. No matter what problems they may have among themselves, no matter what Kim would think of her...Kim matters too much to be excluded from her most personal, most vulnerable photos of this night.

Almost as though summoned by Sage's thoughts, Kim appears. Her smile seems a little tired, and her right hand seems to curl loosely into itself. A fist, but not quite. She carries a flashlight with a red filter on her right hand, the ones they all bought two weeks ago to preserve their night vision. For the first time Sage looks back at her, and when she looks at Basil and Sloane a few seconds later there is something strange about their smiles that she can't exactly place.

They're ten minutes into their walk when Sage realizes that Basil and Sloane are far behind her and Kim, seeming to take their own sweet time to catch up.

Panicking, she turns to Kim, searching her face for a mirror of the confusion she feels. She finds none. Kim is instead taking deep breaths, putting her hands in her pockets and soaking in the fragrance of the dark cherry trees nearby. Like she isn't in any real hurry either.

An invisible fist seems to close around the center of her chest. Sage can hardly breathe.

"Sit with me for a bit, Sage." Kim's voice is warm, gentle, like the handmade quilt she'd made Sloane one Christmas, that now covers the three of them in their own bed. For the first time she doesn't trust the emotion she reads into it.

Sage doesn't give much thought these days to the inner workings of her own body. Whether she has heartbeats, what causes the fizzing sensation beneath her skin whenever she gets too nervous, how her blushing (which not many notice) isn't a result of too much blood rushing to a singular place but a mechanism set in motion by commands and code. But it's times like these - when her body feels too much, all at once - that she wishes she understood better how it all worked. That she wonders why the magnitude of what she's experiencing alone doesn't cause her body to shut down.

Right now, it's just one emotion - fear - and there's too much of it firing every synapse in this manmade (womanmade? Sloane created her, after all) body.

She feels Kim's eyes boring into her as they settle on the grass.

"Sage, honey. Did I do something wrong?"

For the first time in a week, Sage looks up at Kim and actually holds her gaze this time. Those weren't the words she was expecting to hear, nor is this soft, worrying look in her eyes the one she was expecting to see. She lets out a deep, shuddering breath.

"Thought you hated me," she presses her lips together, hating the way tears form a film over her eyes and blur her vision, hating her inability nowadays to pretend she was strong when she most needed it, "For lying. For not being human enough."

The force of Kim's sudden embrace feels as powerful as a gut punch. Sage gasps at how strong Kim's arms feel, wrapped around her shoulders, engulfing her so that Sage's face is buried in the space between neck and shoulder. She breathes in Kim's distinctive fragrance - fresh herbs and warm tea - and is hit by the sudden sharp memory of the phantom figure she rarely thinks about now. The mother who hugged her just like this when her first crush rejected her in front of the whole school. The mother Sloane programmed her to remember.

"Oh, honey," Kim whispers, hands rubbing down her back in a rhythm that Sage always associated with soft blankets and lullabies. "No. No. No. Never." Her voice is soft and hoarse, almost like she's trying to hold back tears. "I could never hate you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever allowed you to think that."

Sage turns her head in the opposite direction towards the moonlit horizon, cheek still pressed against Kim's shoulder. It isn't Kim's fault, not really. She was trying to tell her nothing had changed. It was...it was just hard for her to believe.

She takes a few deep breaths, tries hard not to let her tears fall. They fall anyway.

When Kim speaks again, her voice is still soft, barely louder than a whisper. "I...I think I know where I got it wrong. That first day, wasn't it? Because I barely said anything."

Sage doesn't answer. There's too much she wants to say; none of it feels right for this conversation. Kim pauses for a beat, then speaks again.

"I think I wanted to take time to process. All those times I saw you crying about your mother, all those times the three of you would look at me...like there was something you needed to hide from me."

"Sorry," Sage says, giving Kim's arm an apologetic squeeze. "We were going to tell you at some point, I swear. I guess we just keep putting it off."

Kim places her hands on either side of Sage's face, raising it as if she wants to take a good look at her. Her eyes are moist too, and the pain she feels at making Kim sad twists inside her stomach like a knife. "Sloane told me you had no clue who you were until you saved Basil from a taser."

Sage nods. "I had all these memories. Huddling under a table with my mom during a storm. Getting jealous when my friends were hogging her attention," Kim chuckles a little at that one. Sage looks down before she whispers, "road trips with Sinatra on the radio..."

Kim's hands come to her shoulders now, as she shakes her head. "Sloane told me about that. All I could think of was what my poor Sage had been through. I felt like I needed to fully reevaluate everything I thought I knew about you with all that in mind. And when the time came to talk...I guess I didn't know how to actually talk about it."

Sage nods and looks away, finally understanding. Her brain is too much on overdrive to immediately respond, the words she doesn't hate me, she doesn't hate me, forming a tattoo in her head.

Kim speaks again. "I wanted to show you that it didn't matter to me...that's why I started speaking to you like before. Except...that backfired, didn't it?"

Sage sighs. Kim doesn't know about all the people who tried to pretend and then screwed up anyway, and Sage doesn't want her to know. "Maybe. But I don't know if I was ready to talk either," she says slowly, "And I can't blame you for taking a day to think."

Kim seems to search Sage's face for... something - Sage can't figure out what - before she moves away, raising her knees in front of her and winding her arms around them. There is a small, tight smile on her lips. "I guess you could say I was...processing."

For a few moments, Sage can do nothing but blink. Several times.

"Oh my God, Kim," once Sage gets it, she can't stop laughing, "that joke was terrible!"

The smile widens. "Sorry my load time took most of the day."

"No! Worse!"

Kim stares at her, all placid innocence. "Kim.exe has stopped working."

"Stop! Stop!" Sage almost punches her arm in her attempts to stop laughing, just like she did at Kim's jokes several weeks ago, and every golden, sunlit, wonderful week before that. "You're killing me here!"

Kim and Sage fall over each other, finding themselves in loop after loop of giggle fits. So much so that they forget what they were actually laughing about - they only have to look at each other before they start again.

When they're done clutching their stomachs and wiping tears from their eyes, Sage keeps her head on Kim's shoulder. Kim keeps her arm around Sage's. All the laughter is gone from Kim's voice now; it is low and measured, as if she's been practicing the words.

"It isn't fair."

Sage tenses. "What isn't?"

"That anyone would make you believe...that how you were built, should make you any less of a person."

Sage smiles wanly. It's as if all the stress and all the pain, all the fear of having to face hostility again, has leaked out of her - leaving her in a weird mix of exhaustion and bliss. She winds her arms around Kim's midsection, closing her eyes against the faint memory of doing this as a child, to a figure who feels more phantom than mother.

"I have my people," she says, "and before you ask - yes, you're one of them. I was just afraid I'd lose you."

Their arms tighten around each other. "Never," Kim says it like a vow, then tilts her head to where Basil and Sloane stand, holding hands and gazing at the harvest moon.

Sage grins, briefly dislodging herself from Momma Kim's embrace and calling out to them.

"Get here, you two! Stop pretending to moongaze or whatever. Kim and I patched up!"

"About time you did!" Basil calls back as they both make their way towards Kim and Sage.

Sage pretends to look annoyed. "We spent, like, a whopping ten minutes yapping here. The least you could've done was sneak in a good makeout sesh."

"Sage!" Sloane says, grinning and hiding her face in Basil's arm. "Not in front of mom!"

Kim laughs. "You two expect me to believe that? I've seen more than my fair share, Trudy!"

Seeing the four of them laugh together in a way they haven't all week, Sage's chest feels so full she can hardly bear it. They all stand together, switching between giggly banter about the rest of the group and gazing up at the golden moon again. They know it's the last time they'll see a supermoon this year.

Kim stops Sage just as they're all about to return to their tents, ready to settle for the night. Basil and Sage look at each other, smile, and go inside.

"C'mere," she says, taking something out of her pocket. Whatever it is, it's small enough to nestle in the palm of her hand. "In the middle of all that yapping I forgot to give you your birthday present, darling."

Sage lets out a soft gasp. In the brief but intense rollercoaster that was today she almost forgot she had a birthday to celebrate.

Kim opens her palm to reveal two large, gorgeous, teardrop shaped earrings - the quilling pattern on them so intricate it reminds Sage of arabesque designs. Even in the dark the colours dazzle: electric blue on the outside, sunset orange on the inside. The double-toned hues remind Sage so much of a fiery sunset, sinking into a deep blue sea.

"Happy birthday, honey," Kim whispers.

This work of art. One that must have taken blood, sweat, tears, paper strips, glue, tools. One that must have taken Momma Kim hours to get right.

Sage tries to swallow a lump in her throat, cursing herself for the fresh onset of tears. "For me?"

Kim lets out a laugh that borders on watery. "Anything for my girls." She steals a glance at their tent, "and boy, of course. Basil's getting a pendant. Don't tell."

She giggles; another implanted memory emerges as she holds out her little finger. This time it doesn't appear with the wave of bitterness that usually follows...this time, she holds that memory to her chest, with joy. And love.

She links her pinky with Kim's, laughing again as the older woman's eyes brighten. "Pinky promise."

--

They'd asked for a two-night stay when they'd made the bookings. Cherry Springs is an internationally-acclaimed Dark Sky Park, Sloane had explained back then, before slipping into what they all dub her personal "Guide to Understanding Astronomy Jargon for My Very Confused Boyfriend and Best Friend", That means a place that restricts artificial light so you can experience true darkness. The stars can never be clearer in the night sky than in a place like that! You just won't see as much of it when you have a big bright supermoon on the horizon.

Which is how they end up staying another night at Cherry Springs, soaking in the brilliance of the stars against a slowly waning moon, shrunk to its usual size. The three of them are huddled together beneath a quilt that Kim had knitted for Sloane, long before she had ever met Basil and Sage.

Kim herself has turned in for the night, early sleeper that she is. She'd kissed them all goodnight before leaving, and Sage couldn't resist tightening her arms around her so she could hold on to her warmth a minute more.

Sage marvels at how comfortably the three of them fit against each other right now: her head on Basil's shoulder, Sloane's lying sideways against his chest, her fingers idly playing with the smaller curls above Sage's neck, taking full advantage of the fact that she feels ticklish there. Sage squirms and buries her hushed laughter in Basil's arm.

Dangly, beautiful, handmade earrings - yellow and blue-orange - swing joyously against Sloane's and Sage's necks. Hugging the quilt tighter to herself, Sage begins to play with Sloane's lovely yellow hoops. Sloane returns the gesture, grinning cheekily, and Basil lets out a small huff of laughter.

They'll head home tomorrow - wind in their hair, the sun on their skin, singing New York, New York. Just as they did before they came here...but not at all the same. They will probably return louder. Happier. More one with each other than ever before.

She looks around at the two people with her, and the woman already sleeping in a tent inside. When she releases a breath, it comes out in a happy sigh.

My people, Sage thinks dreamily, as her eyes follow the long, winding, heaven-bound path of the Milky Way. My family.

--

Harvest moons refer to the final supermoon of the year, which usually shows up towards the end of September. It's called so because it coincides with the harvest season. This year it actually did happen on 29th Sept. Learn more about harvest moons here, and different kinds of supermoons here.

References for the quilled earrings Kim made for the girls:

I HC that Sloane likes hoops, and this is the first design Kim masters. So the one on the left is Sloane's, and the blue-orange one on the right is Hayden's birthday present.

Currently the latest GoPro in the market is the Hero 12, but since this is set in the future I've given it a different number.

Faceclaims:

Sage Young - Lupita Nyong'o

Basil Park - Eric Mun

Sloane Washington - Nelly Muse

Kim Washington - Aunjanue Ellis

-

Tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW and (possibly) Bisexual Awareness Week

Tagging @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 for Day 4 - Moonlight, Moon (pls ignore if the entry is too late)

Tagging @choicesprompts for Flufftober, "Birthday Surprise".

Tagging @haydenyoungappreciationweek and @sazanes for Day 5: Happy Birthday Hayden!

[mychoicessuck]

Damien WHO?

They fucked around and let me kiss Khaan.

[cordonianredruby]

He’s such a dad lmao

[soniacantopme]

Have I mentioned that I love him. Cause I do. 😭😍

[aprincessofgaul]

[ladynonsense]

8 Nights in Paradise (Perfect Match, Khaan x m!MC)

This is the first fic I’m writing with my male Perfect Match MC, Reggie! I’ll keep his separate from my f!MC Rory in my masterlist, and you can assume he’s in his own little universe (but honestly both his and Rory’s stories mostly stick to canon).

So here’s my little retelling of the “moments in-between” during that gang’s stay in Indonesia. Enjoy!

Pairing: m!MC x Khaan Mousavi

Rating: PG-13

Genre: is sexual tension a genre because that’s what you’re getting

Words: 2000

Tags: @choiceslife @blackcoffee85

Day 1

Reggie hung back from the group as they headed out of the cave, hoping to steal a moment with a certain someone. Khaan hesitated to follow the others, glancing back at Reggie, who grinned in return.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t strip down like the rest of us,” he teased.

“The water is freezing in here, Reggie.” His voice was serious but the corners of his mouth were creeping up into a smile. “I bet you wish you were wearing a sweater right about now.”

Reggie rubbed his wet, bare arms, starting to shiver. “Actually...I do.”

“Oh...well then...” Khaan pulled off his cardigan and wrapped it around Reggie’s goosebump-covered shoulders, his hands lingering for just a moment too long before pulling away. “Is that better?”

“Much...” their eyes met and their walking slowed, and suddenly Reggie felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Khaan’s gentle chuckle broke the sudden and unexpected tension. He shoved his hands in his pockets bashfully. “We should get back before we both get chilled to the bone.” And so they walked back, shoulder to shoulder, perfectly in time to each other.

Back at the house, Reggie headed straight for the shower, washing the seawater from his skin and letting the hot water warm his shivering body. The bathroom filled with steam as he pressed his forehead to the shower wall. Dizzy, light-headed even. Was it from the heat, or from him? 

He shook his head, trying to snap out of the spell he’d been put under. He turned the water off and dried himself with a towel before slipping on some fresh boxers and wrapping himself back in Khaan’s sweater. Back in his room he found the bed uncharacteristically empty, Sloane and Hayden’s voices drifting in from the kitchen where they were still chatting and laughing.

Exhausted and a little relieved, he curled up under the blanket alone, pulling the sweater over his face and breathing deep of the sweet smell of sandalwood and some exotic incense he couldn’t quite place as he drifted off to sleep.

Day 4

“Don’t listen to any of them,” Reggie insisted, turning away from his traitorous friends. “I’m an excellent cook.”

Khaan looked up for only a split second, barely meeting his eyes before turning his head back towards to the vegetables he was expertly chopping, trying to conceal the dopey grin on his face. Reggie felt his heart leap up in his chest at that tiny look, and mentally chastised himself for being such a hopeless softie.

“I would never doubt you, Reggie.” Khaan thrust a potato at him, not meeting his eyes. “Peel and dice this for me?”

“Last time I saw him try to peel a potato, I ended up driving him to the emergency room,” Damien announced from the living room. Hayden and Sloane giggled, and Reggie groaned.

“That was two years ago, can you please not...” Suddenly Khaan’s hand was wrapped around his own and he lost all powers of speech. 

"Don’t use that knife,” he said warmly, nothing in his voice mocking or cruel. “There’s a great peeler here, see?” He handed him the peeler and got back to chopping carrots, Reggie still breathless from the small and unexpected touch.

He focused all his attention on the potato, trying not to think about those long, slender fingers that had held his own, and the only things they might do to him, given a chance.

Day 6

“You’re not staying?” Damien sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. The sight of his bare chest and wild hair made Reggie bite his lip, reconsidering. He walked back to the bed and placed a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s just Hayden...I’m worried about her.”

Damien nodded sleepily, settling back into his bed. “I know. Go take care of her.”

Reggie tip-toed out of Damien’s room and into the living room, where Hayden was curled up on the couch all alone. He sat gingerly on the edge of a cushion, softly stroking her hair. She stirred but didn’t wake.

“How’s she doing?” a gentle voice asked. Reggie blushed; he was dressed in only his underwear, not having planned on encountering anyone other than his girlfriends.

“She’s OK, I hope,” he half-whispered, trying to act natural despite the blush blooming all the way from his cheeks down to his neck and chest. Khaan leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, hands in his pockets, watching from a distance.

“I wish she would let us run some diagnostics...”

He stood, moving away from Hayden so as to not disturb her. “She doesn’t want anyone in her head, is all. I can’t say I blame her.”

“That’s fair,” Khaan sighed. “I can’t say I ever imagined them becoming this autonomous. She really is incredible.”

Reggie nodded, still moving slowly towards where Khaan stood. “And what about you?”

Khaan straightened up, brow furrowed. “What about me?”

Feeling bold, Reggie stepped closer, a little too close to be casual. Khaan held his breath. “You made the matches what they are. You made life. You’re pretty incredible yourself.”

He stared up into Reggie’s eyes for a long moment, speechless. “Reggie,” he breathed, finally.

“Khaan.” He leaned against the top of the door frame, biting his lip as he stared down the man in front of him.

Khaan reached out and squeezed his hand gently before letting it go. “Good night, Reggie.” He turned and walked away without another word.

Day 7

“Oof!” Reggie hit the ground with a thud, whatever air wasn’t knocked out of his lungs from the fall being squeezed out by Khaan on top of him. He gasped for air as his sparring partner finally let up the pressure.

“Not gonna let me win to boost my confidence? I heard that’s a great learning technique...”

Khaan leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Not when I’m trying to impress you, Reggie.” His voice was hoarse and low, and the air between them felt charged as they both caught their breath.

“...Oh.”

Khaan bit his lip and looked away, trying to contain the sly grin spreading across his face. “Anywho...” He offered Reggie his hand, helping him to his feet without meeting his eyes. They dusted the sand off their clothes before he cleared his throat and continued. “You did great. One of these days, you might even beat me.”

Reggie reached out to brush a stray leaf off of Khaan’s shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”

Khaan winked at him before turning back to the group. “Fantastic training, everyone! Coconut water on me!”

They fell into step beside each other, following behind the others once more. “So...about last night.”

Reggie swallowed hard. “Yes?”

“Does she always sleep out on the couch like that?”

“Oh...she has been lately. She’s waking up a lot. I told her she doesn’t have to leave, but...” They both looked over at Hayden, cheerfully bargaining for coconuts. “Anyway...”

“That’s not all I wanted to talk about.” He stopped walking, letting the others lose them. “I feel like we should address...”

“We don’t have to...”

“We should, though. Reggie, I...”

“Reggie!” Sloane called, jogging back towards them. “I thought you were heading back with us. I was hoping to invite you snorkeling with me, if you’re not too busy this afternoon...” She looked nervously between the two of them.

“Oh, of course!” Reggie took Sloane’s hand, thankful for the reprieve from the awkward conversation. “I’ll see you later tonight, Khaan?”

“Right...of course. See you then.” Khaan forced a warm smile and jogged away from them, eyes cast down towards the sand as he returned to the house.

Day 8

“No plans tonight?” Khaan looked up at Reggie, who had just plopped himself down dramatically on the couch next to him.

“None. Hit the hiking trails with Damien earlier and now I’m beat. I’m not moving from this couch unless I absolutely have to.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me keeping you company, since I was here first.” Khaan smiled at him over his laptop.

“Of course not. In fact, I insist.” Reggie settled in against the cushions with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “So...find anything good in the Eros files?”

“Nothing too compelling so far. Lots of data to sift through.” Khaan sighed and closed the laptop, setting it down on the coffee table. “Maybe I could use a break.”

Reggie turned to face Khaan on the couch, pulling his legs up under himself and leaning into the plush cushions. “You absolutely do. Let’s talk about something other than Eros.”

Khaan’s eyes traveled conspicuously over Reggie’s body, lingering a little too long at his lightly parted lips. “What would you like to talk about?” He turned towards him, sitting cross-legged on the cushion.

“Hmmm...” Reggie adjusted himself, inching forward just a little. “Tell me about your next project.”

He laughed. “Next project? I just launched a massive VR game; don’t I get a little time to come up with my next idea?”

“You seem like a guy with plenty of ideas. What would you do next if you could just follow your passion and not worry about anything else?”

He considered silently for a moment, as Reggie wondered what brilliant ideas and schemes were whirling around in his brain. Finally he answered.

“I would do this.”

And then his lips were pressed against Reggie’s, softly, hesitantly at first, his strong hands lightly holding him by the shoulders. A soft groan of pleasure arose from deep in Reggie’s chest and he wrapped his arms around Khaan, deepening the kiss with a hunger that surprised even himself.

In a moment he found himself lying back on the couch, Khaan’s warm body on top of his, hands in each other’s hair and long legs intertwined. The building heat left him breathless as he pulled him closer, letting his hands slip under his shirt to the warmth of his skin beneath.

Khaan gasped and pulled away, propping himself up with one arm. “Reggie,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, I...”

“Boooys, we’re home!” Khaan jumped to his feet as Reggie scrambled to sit up. Hayden and Sloane were already skipping through the front door, arm-in-arm and giggling. “What have you two been up to tonight?” Hayden asked, raising an eyebrow at Reggie.

“Just taking a break from saving the world,” Reggie answered, smoothing his clothes. “How was horseback riding?”

“It was amazing,” Sloane answered, sitting down and pulling out her phone. “I took so many photos! Let me show you...”

“Hey, maybe we should get to bed and do this in the morning?” Hayden gently pulled Sloane to her feet, nudging her towards the bedroom. “Let these two finish catching up.”

“Oh, but it’ll just take a...”

“Good night, Sloane!” Reggie chirped, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to Hayden as she whisked Sloane towards the bedroom, still protesting.

He reached for Khaan’s hand and pulled him back down to the couch. “Where were we?”

Khaan raised his hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm. Reggie’s pulse quickened as he held his wrist, his lips lingering against his sensitive skin. But then he let go, standing back up. “We were about to say good night.”

Reggie frowned, standing to look Khaan in the eye once more. “I don’t want to say good night.”

Khaan took a deep, steadying breath, avoiding his gaze. “Neither do I,” he whispered, “But I’m not ready for this right now. I shouldn’t have...”

“Please don’t say that.” Reggie kept his distance, not wanting to push his boundaries, but the sudden space between them felt like torture. To his relief, Khaan smiled warmly and took his hand once more.

“You’re right. Regret is pointless.” He leaned into him, pausing only when his lips were so close to Reggie’s they nearly brushed together when he spoke again. “It felt wonderful to finally kiss you.” He chuckled softly. “And now I’m going to bed.”

Finally, Reggie remembered how to breathe. He struggled to compose himself and offer a warm smile in return. “Good night, Khaan.”

“Good night, Reggie.”

[countessogilvy]

[Playlist] Perfect Match

Listen to the playlist on Spotify

G.U.Y - Lady Gaga

Liquorice - Azealia Banks

Sin Pijama - Becky G

21 Questions - 50 Cent

Sunflower (Rmx) - Post Malone

Location - Khalid

What If I Go? - Mura Masa

Naughty Girl - Beyonce

Promiscous - Nelly Furtado

Sucker - Jonas Brothers

Use Somebody - Kings of Leon

Side to Side - Ariana Grande

Felices los 4 - Maluma

Take Care - Drake

Solo para Ti - Camila