#last one for tonight. i have a few more sketches i can turn into memes. and also the older 'sparkle on its wednesday' one

[dullard]

your honor my client is just getting a little napoleon bonaparte with it

[popcornforone]

The Winners Circle

A Dieter Bravo Fan Fic

This was in draft form a while, not completed. I’ve always wanted to write Dieter during award season & with Pedro being nominated so much this year it was fitting. Also a huge shout out to @salgal78 she said ahhh I have an idea for a fic for you to write or incorporate & part of it appears in this so thanks my love.

Synopsis: It’s the TV BAFTAS & both you & Dieter are up for awards. Everyone thinks you’re just friends, let’s see if you can convince everyone that’s still the case & not something more.

Word Count: 5800

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV (passionate & kinda getting near rough) sex, oral male receiving, established relationship, cream pie, swearing, alcohol, mentions of party & Dieters previous life style, previously friends to lovers, secret relationships, teasing. Public sex, bribery.

Thanks as always for the read peoples it’s really appreciated. All feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy.

Your silver heels sit in the corner of the hotel bathroom ready to head to the BAFTA’s. Tonight you are certain will be your night. You are up technically for 5 awards.

Best comedy show

Tv moment of the year

Best comedy actor (twice for your co stars)

& best comedy actress for you

You & your long time writing parter & first love came from nothing & wrote a hit sketch comedy show which has now reached its natural conclusion. You are both finally getting recognition for this & tonight as you walk the red carpet at the Baftas you will be validated. You strap your heels on & make sure your purple dress shimmers & makes you look fantastic. You leave the bathroom of the suite & see your husband sorting out his purple tie in the mirror. His eyes catch you in the reflection, & the (for once) smart Dieter Bravo turns around. His lips part as he sees you.

“Bloody hell” he says looking you up & down. “What happened to my wife & the comfortable leggins & hoddies she wears?”

“Oooh she’s here baby, don’t worry” you walk up to him & sort out his cufflinks for him. His pocket square as well matches the material on your dress. He is also up for two BAFTAS . For best performance In an international tv show & also for tv moment of the year. His death in the crime drama he was in last year got rave reviews & became an instant meme. It’s almost as iconic as Hans Gruber falling from the nakatomi plaza. “You do need to remember though Dieter, that no one even knows we are dating & just assumes we are friends” after confessing your mutual feelings for each other a few weeks ago, you decided not to waste any time & got married 8 weeks later. Only your immediate families & 2 friends each in attendance for the most romantic evening of your lives. You are meant to actually right now be on your honeymoon, but when you both got your award nominations 3 day’s before your nuptials, you postponed it by a few days.

“I will baby, don’t worry, remember I’m good at keeping these kinda secrets” he says with a wink & gets his phone out to take a selfie of you both before you head off to the BAFTAS. separate cars are coming to get you, as you are travelling with the people from your show who are in the rest of the rooms on this floor.

“I know you are, I mean people have seen us on the red carpet together before as friends…” you look longingly into his big brown eyes & this scruffy hair which you insisted he kept for tonight. It means if you can sneak a few minutes with him & you run your hands through it, it won’t look like you have done that. You do also prefer him scruffy. “But your mine now baby”

“& so are you my wife” he kisses you.

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing that husband”

“& I’ll never stop saying it” he smiles back. Click goes his camera as you both hold each other & take a romantic selfie. For your eyes only.

*

“To the left”

“Looking fabulous”

“Smile”

“How does it feel to be the toast of the awards?”

This is the craziest red carpet you’ve ever been on. There have been some properly famous people walk this in front of you tonight. But you seem to be the person everyone wants to talk to, have a selfie with, be interviewed by. It’s suddenly dawned on you that tonight will change your life. You are being taken seriously & as you pose you get more comfortable & confident in yourself.

“Dieter” a member of the press shouts. Because you’ve been doing so much fan service, interviews & stuff with your colleagues on your show, Dieter has now caught you up on the red carpet. “Pose with her” is shouted & that’s all it takes. Dieter stops his solo geeky pose he’s famous for & because you’ve always posed at events together, it’s not weird to anyone when he pulls you in close around the waist.

“Smile baby” he says as he kisses your hand & smoulders to you & then turns to the world’s photographers.

“I always smile Dieter” you beam at the press. Your hand is squeezing his bum, the cheek nearest to you. He winks at you & leans into your ear.

“Keep doing that…” he whispers seductively “… & you’ll remember tonight for more than the accolades you receive”

“Dieter” you say loudly in shock & suddenly realise people heard you outloud. “Oooh you know how he gets” you play it off & Dieter rolls his eyes. The press know Dieter is know for his slightly risky comments, that’s why he’s celebrity gold for the tabloids. He plays up to his perceived image, but that was just for your ears.

You continue to work the red carpet & eventually make your way into the auditorium & are handed a complimentary glass of champagne & then someone comes to take Dieter to his seat. You knew you weren’t sitting together but right now you wish he was sitting next to you for today. He wasn’t given a plus one & you gave yours to another member of your cast so they could come to this as well.

“Good luck beautiful” he kisses your cheek & is walked into the theatre. It’s only when you walk in that you realise how near the front you & your show are. You also see Dieter sitting about 8 rows back talking to an usher. You sit down next to your Co writer & ex Ciaran.

“So what are you predicting?” He says.

“Two, comedy show & best actor for either you or Pete” you reply.

“Ha” his wife Jess says “you’re always so modest, we all know full well you’re gonna pick up best comedy actress. If you don’t we all boycott the BAFTAs going forward”

“Jess!” You exclaim “you can’t say that while we are actually at the BAFTAs” you tut & roll your eyes & then you & Ciaran say the exact same thing in unisons. “Wait til we’ve at least won one bloody thing” the whole group of you laugh. It’s one of the lines from the show when you talk to others about how inappropriate they are but to do it once that person has left of the thing is over. If you get no other wins tonight this has all made you have a collective laugh.

*

“To present our first award…” the host goes on, you haven’t checked the program to see what order things are in, you were going to do that during the first award, but then you stop & put the list down & applaud as the words”… Dieter Bravo” are said. The room cheers. Obviously to you & your colleagues & friends they knew he was going to be here, they know your a couple probably the only people in the room that do, but the rest of the room is really enthusiastic too. It’s always good when a big megastar turns up for uk award shows. Out he walks in his charcoal suit, pocket square & tie that highlights the outfit, & he’s got his glasses on. That’s your man right there. He’s yours & you wish he was now sitting next to you to keep you calm tonight.

“Comedy is all about timing, something that’s not my strongest attribute, just ask my friends & how I almost didn’t get to my limo in time.”

“Well we’re a shoe in…”Ciaran whispers to you.

“What?”

“The opening award is for comedy show, Dieters presenting, the world knows your friends, they are doing this for a nice little on stage reunion” Your eyes pop open.

“Ooooh fuck” your hand trembles & Ciaran grabs it like he used to when you were a couple but it doesn’t calm you as it shakes anymore. Proving you work better as writers & friends.

“Breathe, it will be okay” Jess whispers, she has known you both long enough to know that there’s nothing going on between you.

After the little highlight package Dieter announces your tv show the winner & you all cheer & slowly make your way up to the stage. You’ve already made the group decision that the two people who will do this acceptance speech will be Ciaran (because you & Ciarán both know Pete is winning comedy actor) & James the next person with the most input. They all are congratulated by Dieter as they go up to the stage & you are last, & you hug him in a friendly way. You then with the other 4 cast members step back & let James & Ciaran talk& accept the award. You slowly feel Dieters hand go around your waist. You’re still listening to what your friends have to say, but you are suddenly much calmer now that you’re next to your husband.

“Congrats baby” he whispers “my little bafta winner”

“Thanks Dieter, the night is still young.” You’re trying to be professional but the way he just poked his glasses back up his nose has got you desiring him. You then slowly leave Dieters side & quickly leap into the microphone to do one last thank you.

“I know it’s a long night so I’ll be quick but I just want to say James & Ciaran are the reason we are here winning this, because let’s be honest they make us all look funny & you were never going to thank yourselves we’re you.” The room erupts into chuckles & you all leave the stage to do a few small interviews with the press back stage, before returning to watch the awards.

*

As you predicted earlier Pete wins best comedy actor. His performance as Grumpy Grandpa is going to be remembered long after any of you are relevant anymore. It is harsh on Ciaran & his characters he created. He is the better performer but Grumpy Grandpa is marvellous, mainly because of the way you & Ciaran wrote it. You sit there as the nominees for comedy actress are read out. You hate being recognised, you’re bad at self praise, but this was always a definite nomination as you missed out on a supporting actress bafta for something else last year because it didn’t meet the bbfc guide lines for international work. This year that rules has now been changed due to people protesting towards Bafta.

“& the bafta goes to…” says Nathan who is a tv show judge & currently flavour of the month looks wise in the British press.

He says your name.

You freeze.

You thought this might happen. But that still doesn’t mean it’s a shock to the system to hear your name be read out loud. The room erupts in noise & cheers & you sit there as Ciaran hugs you.

“Oh my fucking god” the room is filled with noise & people congratulating you but it’s all silent as your head trys to process what has just happened. You have a solo bafta. The room is a blur as you make your way to the steps to go & accept the award. But as you reach the stage & Nathan comes to hug you, you just catch a sight out the corner of your eye. Dieter is wiping a tear away a few rows further back. He’s standing up & applauding like everyone else but his eyes are glazed. He’s proud. He’s proud of his wife.

You are brought to an even more surreal reality of winning by a hug from Nathan. He tall dark & handsome even more so in person, smells divine & he gives you a hug.

“Congratulations” he says his eyes dancing “finally” he says & he hands you the BAFTA. Your BAFTA. You don’t need to share this one. It’s just where you’re gonna put it. You almost drop it. It’s so heavy. It doesn’t look it but it really is a weight. You get to the podium & put it on the stand & take a deep breathe.

“Well ladies & gents,I can confirm that Nathan does smell as good as he looks” the room laughs. You’ve broken the ice at the start of your speech. You have a rough idea about who you need to thank but you’ve not written it down. You’re going to speak from the heart & then you properly begin.

“Thank you Bafta. This is incredible. As are my 4 other nominees in this category. It’s hard enough to be a woman in this world anyhow let alone showbiz, but comedy is the hardest job of all so I want to say thank you to my fellow nominees & the women who came before us for giving us this opportunity.” You point & look at the rest of the friends from the show.

“I need to thank my guys & gals from the show, mainly Ciaran for being an amazing writing partner for over a decade & to his amazing wife Jess who let him just after they got married to go spend 10 weeks in a room with his ex & trust us.”more people laugh. “I also want to thank my parents, my brother & his wife & all the friends from the beginning who let me tell them bad jokes for years you are always my inspiration & to my new friends that I have now I’m a big shot apparently” you do quotation marks as you say that. A member of the press who doesn’t write fairly about women when they are successful said that you’d soon be a big shot & it would be the end of your tv show. You’ve waited 3 years to own them back.

“I also want to thank the viewers for sharing our show over the years, you watching meant we could do wilder crazier things, so thanks for the support, but the person I really want to thank is whoever it is who’s listening me right now. Be it a girl a guy a they or an I. I never thought I’d be here, I have always been told nah not today or well try this or be this. I may have changed a little recently but I’m am most me in front of my lap top typing. I may now be a comedian & actress but I am a writer, & my dream was to be recognised for that. So whoever you are out there, keep striving for the dream, be it you want to be a doctor or you want to complete the ironing tonight you’ve got this & I believe in you.” The room applauds & you smile & then you raise your BAFTA in the air & finish your speech. “Thank you so much BAFTA & D I adore you” you make eye contact with Dieter as you say that. You always say to each other that you adore him in public instead of saying you love him & he does the same. It does mean I love you to each other though. The room gives you a standing ovation & you walk off back stage to speak to the press about your well deserved win.

*

That’s it for your shows win for the night & Dieter doesn’t win either but next comes the after party & dinner. You are nowhere near Dieter for dinner, but you can now text him & you make a point to walk past his table & he does the same to you. Dinner is finished & the party really gets going. A world famous dj is mcing & the music is banging. You’re stood there chatting to Nathan who presented your award earlier, your bafta has been taken to be engraved & will already be at your hotel room when you get there later. It’s been replaced with a glass of champagne.

“Sorry about the comment about how you smelt Nathan, but you always look phenomenal”

“I mean I do judge a beauty show, I have a reputation to live up to”

“As do I with my comedy & ad libs” you both laugh. “But you do smell good” you then smile. Nathan assumes it’s for him but it’s not. Dieter is walking your way behind Nathan with the other judge from Nathan’s Tv show.

“Ahhh Nathan I thought you should meet the rather Dashing Dieter Bravo, he’s interested in having a new suit” Violet says. Nathan turns & sees the look on Dieters face & looks him up & down every detail taken in. Nathan shakes his hand.

“I know me needing a suit? Ironic” Dieter giggles sipping his whiskey, trying to to keep smiling at you. Violet then interjects.

“& congratulations to you, lots of wins today, you created such a wonderful show… have you watched it Dieter?” He almost chokes on his whiskey. He came to set a few days before you were a couple to watch how your show is made. He knows all too well the effort you put into making it.

“Oooh yes I have, I love it, she’s very talented with her hands…” he lingers & then shouts”… at typing” he’s blushing & you just stand there smiling, knowing exactly what he meant.

“I’m sure she is” Nathan winks “Violet let’s go mingle & Dieter you can get my information & I’ll do you a suit fitting” Nathan then shakes his hand again & then hugs you goodbye “I’ll leave you & your other half alone” your face looks a bit shocked as you pull away & look at him. “His face, your eyes & the similar styles & colours on your outfit plus that new glistening ring, I’d say you want some alone time”

“Wow Nathan no one else has clocked”

“Well they are all idiots” & he leaves & Dieter smiles at you before putting his glass down & flinging his arms around you, lifting you up & spinning you around in the air. You do a small scream. People don’t take notice this is what Dieter does to all people, he’s friends with. When your back in your feet he whispers softly.

“Congratulations to my my little miss double bafta winner” he kisses your cheek & you wish you didn’t have to hide your relationship at the moment. You would love the world to know that you are Mrs Bravo.

“Thanks Dieter, sorry you didn’t win”

“Oh but I did, the world wants to speak & be with you but only I get to do that.”

*

After dancing & networking, you leave the party. Both you & Dieter are now a little bit tipsy & not drunk. A line of limos are waiting outside, so you hold his hand & March him into the back of one of them & ask the drive to go the long way to your hotel.

“Have you had an amazing night my love?” Dieter asks as he tucks your hair behind your ear that’s come down slightly & kisses your neck. Your hand goes straight to his thigh.

“Yes Dieter, one of the best nights of my life”

“Well you deserve it”

“So do youuuuhooooo oooh Dieter” his teeth graze down your neck making you shudder with excitement.”im sorry you didn’t win though”

“Oh no I won, the world wants you for 5minutes ,i have you all to myself” you plunge one of your hands into his whispy hair before he hold you in place & you make out in the back of the limo. You know from experience that these driver keep thing’s professional & don’t over step the mark. But as you stroke his length from above his trousers, you can feel his anticipation building. He’s getting hard with each touch stroke & kiss. He wants you & the way he is sighing means he might cum in his trousers soon, if you don’t help him out.

You grab the intercom & buzz it to the driver.

“Complete disgression which will come with a very generous tip?”

“Of course just let me know when your done, traffic is a nightmare tonight so it might take a…”

“Thank you” Dieter announces & slams the intercom off as he unbuckles his belt.

“Dieter?! That was rude!” You scoff at him he likes it when you a bit moody, it’s a turn on but what’s not a turn on for Dieter. “Sorry he’s drunk” you apologise & then really turn the intercom off.

“I’m not that drunk my love, I’m at the right level” he says “& I hope you give me more than the tip”. He winks & he unzips his toruses & from the inside of his boxers out flops his massive erect penis. You lick your lips in excitement. For years you had heard girls & guys talk about how good Dieters cock was for blow jobs & he’d always said they’d been alright but the first time you took his length inside your mouth he came in seconds. Maybe it was just the idea or desperation for him to claim your mouth but he always repays the favour.

“Oooh my mouth likes to go all in baby.” You kneel on the limo floor & push your hair from your face. You spit on his leaking head. It’s angry & waiting to be welcomed for relief. You look up at him & smile. “All the way?” He stares in disbelief you’ve only done that when you were both high on lsd but you enjoyed it.

“You… you…sss…. You’re sure” he man spreads fully.

“Totally ” you’ve been stroking him for the last few exchanges & know it’s time. Down you go. Not all the way starting with the tip you want to go further down with each bob. You want him to get even more lost in desire the further you go.

“Oooh yesss, oooh fuck baby yes” he loves how your small little mouth which always is so polite, accommodates him. Your tongue lapping around it, how the saliva costs him. He grips the seat in the limo looking down as you take him further inside you.

“Fuck, I have won, you’ve not sucked anyone else tonight off” one hand has moved to his thigh, stroking it. Adding extra tension to him. His hips can’t be constrained as they start to gyrate. You know this is your cue to go deeper.

When he fills your cunt with his penis you wonder how it fits. Therefore you’re always shocked that when it hits the back of your throat that you don’t run out of air. It’s always a mess when you’re finished with him, but damn he always feels so good when you give him oral.

“Oooh baby, more, more, can you go further?” You flutter your eyes at him & nod & his hands go into your hair to encourage your bobbing. “good girl, my fucking good fucking slutty wife” he moans & his hips move & his hands go into your head too. The teasing blow job is now a face fuck. & he is grinding his teeth & snarling in desire. He holds your hair keeping you in place so you don’t Bob & he fucks further down your throat. “Eye contact baby” you reconnect as you stare at your husband. “Fuck oooh fuck” each thrust harder. Your taste buds already tasting some of him. He grips your chin in place so it doesn’t budge. He’s going so hard you’re worried about the mess you will make soon.

You gagging around him. Your nose is in his pubic hair when you reach the base each time. There is no relenting. Dieter is getting everything out in this blow job & his shirt is starting to dampen from sweat from the excitement it’s building up inside him.

“Baby I’m gonna,… gonna cum… so…so…” he growls but due to the change in his rhythm you already knew this. You’d pulled back slightly. You didn’t want to choke when he came, that had happened before, it was not a nice feeling for either of you. So he’s not fully down your throat, as his hips shudder. “Fucking fuck oooh fuck” he screeches & Dieter spills into your mouth. Funky & salty, the ropes of his seed have your taste buds standing to attention. Swallowing every drop. His eyes are closed as his pleasure is complete. He leans back on the limo seat, as you slowly let his penis go & give it a few last licks before taking a napkin to wipe it clean.

“Still tastes like a winner to me baby” you eventually state, swiping your thumb to wipe up a small bit of cum on your lips before softly & seductively licking it clean. You wait til his eyes are open before you do this. He lets out a soft giggle & sigh.

“I’ve slept with countless people who have performed oral on me & yet there’s something about your reflex & the way you slurp that always turns me on more than anyone else.” He helps you back onto the seat of the limo & redresses him bottom half.

“Before or after….”

“Oooh the first time you sucked my cock I was like oooh this, this here is next level.” He smirks rubbing your hair in a hazy state. “Everyone before me must have been idiots…”

“Actually Diets…” you interrupt “you are the only man I’ve ever performed oral on”

“What!?” He’s shocked “this is a joke right” you shake your head.

“On mine & yours life…”

“Then why me… why no other guy before me”

“Because i knew you liked it, expected it & I wanted to return the favour, knowing how legendary the rumours were about your own mouth is at pleasuring cunts”

“Wow” Dieter leans in & deeply kisses you. “Well I appreciate it every time, & I will return the favour of making your clit quiver…” his hand goes under your dress & you feel his hand reach for your knickers, but the limo then stops.

“We’re here” the intercom voice announces.

“Probably best to do this in our hotel room actually, much more room” Dieter then leave a £250 in the back of the limo. “For your discression” he says & he then drag the two of you out of the limo.

*

You are woken the next morning by a knock at your door. You ignore it at first but then the phone in the room rings. You unhappily wriggle free of Dieters grip, those long muscular arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let go. Eventually you get the phone & gasp, grabbing Dieters Jacket from last night to put on & answer the door, you don’t want to answer it naked. Your face is full of joy as you sign the security forms & take the large black & gold box back into your room. Dieter has stirred at the commotion, your excitement & you slowly pulling yourself away from him.

“Babe?” He asks half asleep as you stand at the table & open the box. His eyes light up when he can see your bum cheeks popping out the bottom of his jacket. You turn your head & smile.

“Morning sexy”

“No your the sexy one in my jacket” Dieter replys with a big stretch before his hand goes under the bed sheet to try & calm his morning erection, but with the way you look that’s not going to happen, it’s just going to have to wait a few minutes.

You stand there & lift up your 2 Baftas which are now engraved with your name show & date.

“They are here,” you put one back in the box as they are both heavy & slide onto the end of the bed & do the thing you’ve always wanted to do if you ever got your hand on one, use it as a face mask. Both you & Dieter laugh at this. Dieter leans to his bedside table & takes a snap of you on his phone.

“For insta later baby”he says with a wink.

“But I’m all but naked Dieter?”

“You don’t need to hide your body beautiful” he’s taken the bafta from you to look at it but he’s clearly distracted. “What time is your tv show press shoot this afternoon?” He asks as he tussles his hair.

“4pm why?”

“Good” he kicks off the bed sheet showing he’s completely naked & aroused, & put the bafta on the bedside table. “We didn’t celebrate enough last night” he pulls you fully onto the bed so that you’re on top of him.

“Who ever said we did?” You smirk leaning your head to his for a sensual kiss. Your hands running through that crazy untamed fluffy hair.

“Oooh sweetheart” the words escape his lips as both your eyes close as the intense kiss continues. His hands go under the jacket caressing your body, making sure you’re in the right place for pleasure to begin. “My winner, my winner at everything” he slowly puts his hand on your behind & lowers you onto his meaty length, the stretch as always extraordinary. He’s so big & you gasp. He lightly pushes his hands into your bum so you start to rock down onto him, pleasure already spreading through your veins, pumping your blood. His hands after a few motions move to help you undo the few jacket buttons you have as he looks up at you as you both slide it from your body, tossing it off the bed.

“You’re so beautiful baby” he moans, his hips already at a good rhythm. He looks up at you as you ride him. Your pelvis rolling to meet his thrusts, as that special place is starting to be hit. His hands grip your hips. Finger marks will be there for a while after this is over. You trail your hand down your body, eventually stopping at your clit, stroking starts slowly but then gets more vigorous. Dieter would usually do this by he’s in a trace as you make oooh fuck noises, & your spare hand squeeze a nipple.

“Fuck Dieter oooh fuck”

“Yea baby like that, I like that, so fucking good” he pants back. “Why is your cunt so addictive?” He’s moving faster you know what he wants.

“Because your the one fucking it” you whine back your hands now on his chest, those hairs so fine but so nice to run your hands through. It gives you both goosebumps.

You then hoover over him & spread your legs a little more knowing full well what will happen when you kiss him next. He slows slightly his body knows it too.

“Fuck my pussy baby” you hold his face & lick it & he grabs your bum firmly. Your lips connect for a really exceptional kiss full of lust, tongues dancing together, faces almost melting into each other. But that’s all he needs. He thrusts, & pumps & is relentless. Hitting the spot every thrust, the motion of him pounding your cunt, has you screeching quickly.

“Oooohhhh fuck fuck fuck oooh yes yes yesssss fuck oooh fuck” are the only words you can say, as your body shakes as you approach your orgasm.

“Best cunt, my cunt” he crys as he bites your bottom lip not wanting your lips to be apart. “Fucking this tight little pussy til you can’t take me baby”

Your sweating & moaning & the blood inside you is boiling with this feverish sex you are having. You grip the pillow as he gently puts his hand around your throat.

“Dont cum yet baby” he asks but you can tell from the creaking bed & the sloppy sensation as he keeps sliding within you, that he knows you can’t hold it for too long. “Tell me baby, what are you”

“A winner”

“No”

“A slut”

“No”

“The best sex of your life”

“Erm… I was after something else”

“Your cum hungry wife” you whine & then open your eyes as his grip around your neck gets tighter.

“That’s it baby, now you can cum mrs Bravo”

“Dieter!!!!!! Ooooh fuck” you clamp the hardest you ever had, your release sends shives to all your never endings as you cum & your body stutters.

“Damn oooh fuck oooh shit ooooh fuckkkkk” Dieter follows suit, filling you up. Your walls coated in his seed a few thrusts later. Satisfying you both. Your sweat drips onto him as you lay on top of him as your softly take him out of you & you hold each other close. You can feel everything drip out of you onto him but neither of you care about the mess after that incredible spontaneous session.

“So” you eventually whisper when you can make a noise, & lift your head. “I’m the best sex of your life?” Dieter blushes.

“Well when you make me lose control, yes you are” he smirks & boops your nose.

“Hmmm it’s a shame you’re not mine…” you say with a pause waiting for a reaction, you both no that no man has got you off as many times as Dieter in the few months you’ve had sex. But he doesn’t for one instant believe you, his happy little face gives you some side eye. “Of course you’re the best sex of my life Diets & you know I am a very good wife”

“Do you think bafta would hand out an award for best sex?” he asks

“No they aren’t coming to watch us”

You say sternly, Dieters had several sex tapes leak.

“Of course not but we’d win hands down baby” he jokes & you rest your head on him again.

“Do you think that’s the only way you’d win a bafta?” You ask

“Nah I’ve got everything I could ever want to win, right here & turns out I didn’t need a prize to validate how much I’m in love with you” his kiss is soft & he rolls on top of you for a much more sensual round, before you have to come to the realisation that your world has changed so much in not just the last 24 hours but the last few weeks & months since you finally got your amazing husband.

[2seokfan]

Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 3

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

word count: 6k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3. ch.4

summary: 

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year?  So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a roller-coaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

a/n: Hello, Jun here! Whew this took a while to write but thank you for your patience!! (poor Y/N still doesn’t know their real names but maybe she’ll find out soon?) Any feedback is appreciated <3 

tag list: @wilhelminalucinda​ @ghostkat23​ @ayoo-bangtan​ @sadgurllayha

2 months later.

August is relentless. You’re sweaty all the time and you have no choice but the crank up the a/c every single day. This heat wave is incredibly brutal because all you want to do is stay at home eating ice cream in your underwear but instead you’re stuck working overtime to pay for what you assume will be a record-high electricity bill. Fuck you global warming. 

It’s currently Tuesday. You’re on lunch break at work, chowing down on a falafel wrap and scrolling through your phone, when a text pops up from Karli.

Karli: Don’t forget!

You: ???

Karli: This friday?

You scratch your head. Wtf?

You: What’s on friday?

Karli: Umm the date? Remember?

No you didn’t. Your dumbass actually forgot about a whole date. You can’t believe yourself. Karli finally set you up with that accountant guy from her job. What’s his name again? Brad? Brandon?

You: oh yeah! my bad haha

Karli: You forgot his name didn’t you?

You: …maybe

Karli: Lol it’s Bryce sweetie

Karli: He’s really sweet! Just give it a shot

You: of course i will

You: i’ll turn up my maximum charm

Karli: Dats my girlllll

Karli: Ugh gtg it’s my boss

Karli: Bye!

You: bye babe

You set your phone down, trying to envision this upcoming Friday. Karli mentioned she gave Bryce your phone number, and he’ll text you sometime this week about your date, so at least you don’t have to make any moves first. She did show you his picture though, being the wingman that she is by stalking all his social media just for you. You’ve gotta admit he is cute, the profile picture showed him sporting a casual smile, with blonde hair and blue eyes. The classic boy-next-door look.

“And he’s most likely not a serial killer!” You remember her declaring a few weeks ago, after scrolling through all his tweets. And when you say all his tweets you mean EVERY Single tweet from when he created his account in high school till now. Your best friend does not fuck around. 

“Thanks I appreciate that. Glad he’ll ‘most likely’ not kill me.” You rolled your eyes and grinned at her.

While you munch away the rest of your lunch, you think about how you just aren’t acting like yourself lately. In any other circumstance, you would’ve found yourself more excited for the date. Hell, in any other circumstance you would’ve at LEAst remembered his name, or thought about what to wear by now, or even stalked his social media along with Karli. There’s just a teensy problem though. See, in the past few months you happen to have met two boys who completely changed your standards in men. And you may have maybe developed the tiniest crush on both of them, at the same time. Like how?? You didn’t think you were physically capable of doing that?

You sigh, staring at the rest of your falafel wrap, and force yourself to accept reality. As much as you adore them, you know that your little crush will be completely unreciprocated. This you found out through your group chat, now named ‘Hazel’s Nuts’ (courtesy of Scarlet). It’s not that you confessed to them or anything, they just happened to let slip to you one day that they’re a mated pair. And hybrids mate for life, so they take that shit very seriously. Although this news stung a little, it didn’t cause you to be envious in any way. At the end of the day, crush or not, you’re just glad you have two more people in your life you can confidently call your close friends.

For the past two months you’ve actively kept up with them. Sometimes you’ll send memes back and forth all night, sometimes you’ll group call each other after work. Every once in a while, when they’re not busy doing whatever it is they’re doing, they facetime you. These are your favorite moments because you get to see them in all their attractive glory. Just because they don’t like you that way doesn’t mean a girl can’t deny herself some eye candy. 

You guys never run out of things to talk about. Each day you check the group chat and it’ll be popping. Your topics range from the movie that just came out, restaurants they discovered, to even discussing new criminal cases (you got Hazel into watching true crime Youtube videos and now he’s entirely hooked). Sometimes you just sit back and watch the two boys bicker back and forth. It’s hysterical how they decide to argue through text since you’re sure both of them are probably in the same room together, but you appreciate them keeping you in the loop. 

At this point they’ve already virtually met Karli. She’s been in the background of one or two of your facetimes. You’re glad she approves of them instantly and you wonder if it has a little something to do with their, especially Scarlet’s, boyish charms. She does keep you grounded though, never failing to mention how it’s suspicious that you don’t know their real names yet.

“I don’t think they mean any harm and they seem genuinely nice,” she had reassured, “But you gotta admit not telling you their names is a little sketch.”

You just shrugged. “They have their reasons.”

Internally you do believe she has a point. Even though you don’t want to force information out of the boys, you’re a naturally curious person. Your mind has already compiled a list of all the unusual facts you’ve discovered about them. 

A couple of things have become clear to you over the span of the last few months. The most important fact is that although they share tons of content with you, you still have no idea what they do for a living. You’re also 90% sure they don’t have an owner since there’s never anyone else around them. Another, more interesting fact is that you suspect they’re actually pretty wealthy. Every time you facetime, they’re in some sort of lavish looking hotel penthouse, with fancy furniture and artwork hanging in the background. They also dress designer, occasionally flashing their Balenciaga hats, or little Gucci necklaces, or other fancy logos your peasant-ass is unfamiliar with. You actually googled one of Hazel’s t-shirts from your most recent facetime, having no idea what the FG logo stood for. You remember your eyes bulging out of your head after discovering his plain white shirt with two black letters cost more than $200. TWO HUNDred dollars?!!! Do you know how much food and gas you could buy with $200? Why in the fuck would he spend that much on a shirt??

If only you knew how much their watches cost.

Friday rolls around faster than you can blink and before you know it, you’re rushing home from work to get ready. Bryce texted you for the first time on Wednesday to see if you wanted sushi (hell yeah you did) and you were fortunate enough to notify your boss so you could be let out early. You’ve been such a work horse the last few months that they had no choice but to let you leave in advance. 

So far Bryce seems nice enough but you can’t get a proper gauge of his character through text. Oh well, guess you’ll find out tonight.

The sushi place you’re meeting at is on the fancier side, and includes a bar. Knowing yourself, if there’s a bar, there’s no car, which means you won’t be driving. The last thing you want is to leave your car parked somewhere sketchy overnight cause you accidentally got too tipsy to drive. You like to think you have some semblance of control but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

You were let out at 4, which means you have only 2 hours to get ready. As soon as you get home you sprint to your closet at lightning speed. You rummage through your drawers, hoping to find something, ANYthing, that’s appropriate for this occasion. For one quick second, your eyes dart to your forbidden drawer, aka the ho drawer. It contains the remains of your slutty party dresses and tops from college. Being the hoarder that you are, you never like throwing away things, even if you have no need for them anymore. Wait, what the hell am I thinking? You snap your eyes back to the rest of your closet. You’re going for sushi, not to dance at some club. Besides, you have no intention of sleeping with anyone tonight.

After an hour of deciding on a suitable outfit you finally start on your makeup. Your work makeup has dried up, and now feels gross and cakey on your face, so you remove it all and start anew. At least you had the decency to shower this morning so your hair isn’t too gross.

The place is around a 10 minute Uber ride away but you took your sweet ass time getting ready so now you’re in a frenzy. When your phone buzzes, signaling your driver is here, you swipe on some lipstick last minute, grab some chunky heels, and practically fly out the door. 

You stare out the window of your ride, wondering why you’re lowkey wishing you could spend Friday night at home watching tv instead, or even just spending the evening facetiming two hot hybrids. This all feels a little too rushed. But no, you shake your head and attempt to hype yourself up. C’mon Y/N this is the first real date you’ve been on in ages. At least TRy and be a little more motivated. 

The car pulls up and you thank the driver, stepping out into the warm night air. August is still hot, even in the evenings, and you’re glad you didn’t bring a cardigan. Bryce has already texted you, letting you know he was inside, sitting at your reserved spot. You take a deep breath. Ok, time to put on your game face. You strut in, trying your very best to push the faces of two very good-looking friends out of your mind.

You spot Bryce in a corner, head buried in his phone, his wavy blonde hair not easy to miss. You slide in the seat across from him, prompting him to quickly look up and flash you an easygoing smile.

“Hello there!”

“Hi!” You chuckle nervously. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“Not all all!” He slides his phone back in his pocket, smile still on his face. “You’re just in time.”

A waiter comes by and you both take your orders. You make sure to order a drink because you have a feeling you’ll need the liquid courage to strike up more conversation. Maybe some sake will help ease you.

The first couple minutes are kinda awkward, not gonna lie. Bryce tries to get you to talk about work and you do answer him, but honestly work is the last thing you want to discuss right now. You try to shift the conversation to his job, but that only ends up being worse as he quickly launches into the ins and outs of life as an accountant. Maybe your two hybrids friends have spoiled you because you barely remember the last time you had to fill empty space with small talk.

When the food comes you quietly sigh a breath of relief, hoping the sushi in front of you will help you both get settled and give you time to think of more interesting topics to talk about.

“So,” you wrack your brain, “let’s get to know each other more! Like, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” That’s got to be a safe enough question.

“Hm, I’m actually more of a yogurt kinda guy, ice cream’s not really my thing.”

You freeze, California roll halfway to your mouth. Ok, ok, cool, cool. So he doesn’t like ice cream, that’s fine. You sweat a little. Hurry Y/N think of something else to ask.

“Yeah, I guess that’s not everybody’s thing.” You grimace. “Then what about, i don’t know, cookies? What’s your favorite kinda cookie?”

“Actually I prefer crackers, you know, like the saltine ones? Cookies can be too sweet sometimes.” He’s devouring his dragon roll, not noticing the panic in your eyes. He’s caught you off guard twice today.

This isn’t going well and you’re genuinely surprised because you know Karli has done her research, certain that you two would get along. Guess life really likes to throw you some curveballs. 

Who the fuck prefers crackers over cookies anyway?? Ok. Code red! Change the fucking subject before the silence becomes unbearable. Your dessert-related ice breakers had never failed you before but there’s always a first for everything, you guess.

You take a generous swig of sake. “Right, crackers are... good.” You’re mumbling at this point. “Ok, um, what about hobbies? Got any?” Please throw me a fucking bone here! Your mind is reeling but externally you try to act calm and composed, dabbing at the corner or you mouth delicately with a napkin.

“Oh yeah!” His face lights up. Oh thank god. “Do you like football? Me and my buddies at the office sorta formed this team, and we play against other departments. It’s really fun! You should come by and watch sometime!”

“Uh, sure!” Football. Huh. The last time you were anywhere near a football was when you met someone from your college team at a bar. Well he wasn’t holding a football per se, but that counts right? You only remember how much of a douche he was, trying to hit on one of the girls from your group after getting entirely too wasted.

“Awesome! I’ll hit you up when the next game is set!” It’s almost impressive how he doesn’t notice all the tension emitting from your body. In fact, you have a feeling he’s actually enjoying himself and your company.

The rest of the dinner goes by in the same manner. With him happily answering all your questions and you slowly discovering just how little you both have in common.

He is a gentleman though, that you can’t deny. When all the food has been cleared away he immediately swoops in to pay the bill, ignoring your insistence at paying for your half at least. He really isn’t a bad person, just the opposite. Besides your difference in interests, he is a sweet guy overall, and you do find him to be physically attractive. There’s just no spark, no silver lining that keeps you wanting more. When you both get out of your seats he offers to drive you back to your place but you politely decline. You say it’s because you don’t want to trouble him but in reality you need space for yourself to think.

As soon as you arrive home you take off your shoes and plop yourself down on the couch, running your hands through your hair. You check your phone, a few notifications from ‘Hazel’s Nuts’ popping up.

Scarlet: Do you think she’s done with her date yet??

Hazel: Hey Y/N how was it?

You had told them about this date beforehand and they were excited to root for you, which did bruise your ego a bit since it reaffirmed your unreturned attraction to them, but also prompted you to go through with it. This last notification was from 45 minutes ago but you couldn’t reply since you were still at dinner.

You: hi I just got back!

You don’t expect them to respond right away but to your surprise:

Scarlet: And???

You: it was meh

Hazel: That bad huh?

You: no nothing like that!

You: he’s really cute and all, it’s just we basically have nothing in common

Scarlet: Aww poor Y/N (sad emojis)

Hazel: Hey happens to the best of us

Hazel: Actually I wouldn’t know cause I’ve only been with fox boy

You: thanks anyway, i appreciate it Hazel

Maybe it’s cause you’re a little tipsy, or maybe you just feel so open and vulnerable around them tonight, but the next text you send is especially honest.

You: ughhh idk guys i’m just so lonely!!! why can’t things just work out for me for once! Like the first real date I go on in years and this happens :(

They don’t respond for a long time. So long in fact you start to get worried that you exposed too much about yourself.

15 minutes pass by but to you it feels like hours. You’ve already removed all your makeup and changed into your pajama shirt. You relocate to your bed, checking your phone again, thinking of a way to play off your last text as a joke when:

Hazel: If you’re so lonely maybe you could adopt?

You grin to yourself, glad that they’re not being judgmental. Their concern for you resets your mood.

You: ha ha you know my apartment doesn’t allow pets

You: but honestly if i could i would, cause i’d definitely get a little kitty

Hazel: I’m flattered

You: thanks but i meant a real cat

Hazel: Either way i’m flattered

Scarlet: HEY what about foxes??

You: pretty sure owning a pet fox is illegal here Scar

Scarlet: (angry emojis)

Hazel: You heard what the lady said

You: anyways i’m going to bed

You: thanks for making me feel better guys <3

Hazel: Anytime

Scarlet: But hypothetically if foxes weren’t illegal you’d get a pet fox right??

You: of course i would sweetie

Scarlet: (happy emojis)

Scarlet: Yay!!! Goodnight Y/N!

Hazel: Night Y/N

You: night boys

You wake up next morning on your own time, checking your phone to see that you slept in till 11am. Wow, you haven’t slept that well in a while. Maybe it’s the stress from the previous weeks of non stop working, or the pressure to maintain your composure last night, but either way you knocked out like a rock. You sit up, lean back, and stretch your arms as far as they can go.

Today you’re meeting Karli at her place up north. She couldn’t ask you about last night since she was occupied, her seven year anniversary with her boyfriend Sunny coinciding with your date. But she assured you a couple days ago over facetime that today was going to be a girl’s day, no boyfriend included.

“Hey!” Sunny had popped out of nowhere in the video when he heard the news, a look of mock shock on his face. “I live here too! So what, you're just gonna kick me out of the house and leave me on the streets to starve?”

“My god stop being dramatic!” Karli had shoved him playfully off the screen. “I need girl time with Y/N and it’s not girl time if you’re in the house.”

“I can be one of the girls! Right Y/N?” He sounded betrayed.

“I know you can but I’m not the one who makes the rules.” You pointed out.

He sighed. “You got me there.”

Since you’re just spending time at Karli’s and getting takeout, you felt zero need to dress up. You washed your face, threw on an oversized t-shirt some old hookup left at your place (hey it was cute) and some tights, and tied your hair out of your face. This entire process took less than 30 minutes and next thing you know you’re ready to head out.

You sent Karli a quick text, letting her know you’re on the way. You grab a bottle of prosecco, your purse, and keys, saying a quick goodbye to your roommate Ayah on your way out. She gives you a small wave, reminding you that she, yet again, has to leave today for a whole week. You backtrack to give her a quick goodbye hug, telling her to drive safe, before you take off.

Karli’s place isn’t as far as the beach coffeehouse you frequent, but it’s still located in the wealthier side of town. The drive lasts a good 20 minutes but it feels a lot faster since you spend the whole time singing along to your favorite songs.

You pull up to Karli’s apartment complex, driving yourself to the guest parking space. Her apartment building is pretty tall, with a distant, but gorgeous view of the beach. 

Karli squeals when she opens the door, immediately giving you a big hug. When you break apart you hold up the bottle of prosecco in your hand, waving it in front of her face.

“I know you have the ingredients here so let’s make some spritz!”

“Yay!”

Aperol spritz is your favorite at-home drink to make with Karli. She had gone on a short trip to Italy in the summer between her two years at grad school and tried the drink there, completely falling in love. She googled the recipe, made it for you one day, you had said “Oh FUck that’s good!”, and the rest is history.

She grabs the bottle and quickly relocates it to her kitchen. Her energy levels are sky high today and you wonder what’s got her so elated. She’s skipping everywhere she goes, there’s a permanent smile etched on her face, and she’s humming non stop as she pulls you away from the front entrance.

Sunny emerges from the hallway, two hands in the air in surrender.

“I’m heading out, I swear!”

Sunny is a big teddy bear of a man, with tattoos splayed across his arms and a well-kept beard. There’s a term you learned online called ‘lumbersexual’ and that’s exactly the word to describe Sunny. He almost reminds you of Jason Momoa, the actor who played Aquaman. Those who just meet him think he looks intimidating at first but once you get past his height and size, you see just how much of a softie he is. He’s also extremely intelligent, working somewhere in the computer industry developing software.

Karli bounds over to him and gives him a big snuggly hug and tiptoes all the way up to give a quick kiss to his lips.

“Have fun babe! Love you!”

“Love you too! Also bye Y/N!”

“Bye Sunny have fun!” You smile as he treads out the door.

You both head to the kitchen and start making your drinks.

“Aren’t you extra chipper today!” You mention as you pour a splash of club soda into your glass.

“Am I?” She doesn’t look at you, wearing a mysterious grin, stirring her mixture with a straw.

After you both finish making your drinks, you head to her living room and settle onto her plush sofa.

Karli yawns, almost too dramatically, covering her left hand over her mouth. You quirk your eyebrow at her, wondering why she’s acting so weird until you spot it. There’s something large, something shiny, on her left ring finger.

“Oh my god….” Your entire mouth hangs open. “Oh my GOD!!! Is THAT…?”

“Yep!”

“Did HE -?”

“Yep!!”

“AND YOU - ?

“YEP I DID!!”

“YOU’RE ENGAGED?!?!?!”

“I KNOW!!!!”

What happens after is a shriek rivaling that of a pterodactyl taking flight after spotting prey, except the sound is just the two of you screaming and jumping up and down in Karli’s living room.

You bring her into a tight hug, so emotional that you’re about to tear up. And you’re not one to cry that easily.

“I’m so happy for you!” You pull apart and wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

“Thank you! I’m so happy too!” Her smile is also a little watery. “Like I knew he was gonna do it soon since we’ve been together so long but I’m still shocked you know?”

“I know!” 

“And I’m sorry. Today was supposed to be me asking about your date last night.” She dabs at her eyes. “Bryce really likes you too. He even texted me thanking me for introducing you!!”

“Oh shit...” You take this chance to drink your Aperol spritz. “I’m gonna be completely honest with you. It’s true he’s cute but there was no spark.” You give her an apologetic grin, knowing she really wanted this to work out for you. “Like don’t get me wrong he’s super nice and stuff but I just couldn’t find anything we have in common. I can’t believe he’s still into me?!” 

“Aw I’m sorry babe.” She pouts. “I really did think you would be a good match.”

“It’s ok. Anyways,” you wave her off, bringing up the more important subject at hand. “I’d much rather talk about your engagement! Like, hello?? You’re getting married, girl!!

Another squeal. You really hope her neighbors don’t complain.

“I know!! I literally don’t know what to think!” She smiles wistfully, like she’s on cloud nine, then brings her attention back to you. “Also you’re the maid of honor and you can’t back out of that.”

“I would never!” You gasp dramatically, one hand clutching your chest.

“But don’t worry!” She sets her drink down. “The wedding’s not happening till next year at least. We don’t have to start planning till way later.”

The rest of the day you spend chatting to Karli, prompting her to spill every single detail about the proposal. Even though you have no need to help her plan a wedding just yet, you can’t hold back from offering some ideas that spring to mind.

“I got it!!” You shout.

“You got what?”

“Hear me out,” you may or may not be a little tipsy at this point. “Goth wedding!” You say with jazz hands. Then you reach down to take another sip of your drink.

“Hmm…” She pretends to think about the idea, then giggles. “And that’s enough prosecco for you.” Plucking the glass out of your hand, she transfers it to her kitchen sink.

A couple more hours roll by. You both decide to watch a cheesy Netflix horror movie to sober up, paired with the Mexican takeout you ordered. By the time the credits roll, the sun has long since set, along with your alcohol buzz. You check the time on your phone, deciding it’s best to head home since poor Sunny has been respectfully out and about all day, giving you your girl time.

You give Karli one last big hug, murmuring into her hair how happy you are for her situation. She walks you to the apartment elevator, where you proceed to blow her a swift kiss right before the doors close in your face.

Reality sets in the moment you’re alone. Your head swims with thoughts as you drive back. Most of them are happy about your best friend’s engagement but you can’t discount the little ugly bubble of jealousy that wells down deep in your gut, reminding you of your own current situation. It’s not until you reach home that you realize you didn’t even play music in the car.

Ayah has long since gone on her business trip by the time you arrive at your apartment. The whole place looks dark and unwelcome, only highlighting the emptiness you feel inside. You trudge to your room and slump onto your bed. You try to scroll through social media as a way to distract yourself but you’re met, instead, by all the pictures and posts of happy people, showing off their achievements or bragging about their seemingly perfect lives.

You immediately lock your phone and throw it onto the blanket, the stress and anxiety from the last few months building to a boiling point in your mind. Your biggest concern is you still haven’t figured out your lease situation, and you only have two more months to move out or find someone new. Ayah has tried her best to help you but she’s bombarded by business trips so no luck so far. You let out a small groan and bury your head in the pillow, deciding to sleep it off and worry about your problems tomorrow, even though it’s not even that late.

Right as you’re about to drift off into dreamland, your phone rings. You fumble around the covers until it’s in your hands and check that you have a facetime call from your two favorite boys.

Immediately your body jerks awake and you sit up, swiping the answer button.

“Hey guys!”

“Hi Y/N!!” Scarlet’s heart-shaped smile is taking up most of the screen but you can see a sliver of white and grey hair behind him.

Hazel elbows him out of the way. “Sorry were you sleeping?” He tilts his head, ears twitching. “Wait, it’s only 10 pm where you’re at. You never sleep this early.”

“No I wasn’t... I mean, yeah I was trying to sleep but…”

You sigh. It’s their faces. Just seeing them through a screen, their wide, innocent eyes blinking up at you, makes you want to spill everything.

You nibble on your bottom lip for a moment. “I was just kinda having an existential crisis so I decided to sleep it off. No biggie.”

Scarlet’s eyebrows furrow in concern. After only two months, he can already tell when something is off with your tone of voice.

“Y/N what’s wrong?” He looks up for a bit, pausing to think. “Was it the date last night?”

“The date?” Oh yeah the date. Yet another thing that didn’t go well. You totally forgot about that can of worms. “Not really… or actually kinda?”

You try to reorganize your jumbled mess of a brain and put your thoughts into words.

“So you know how I said I was going to Karli’s today?”

“Mhm,” they nod at you to continue.

“Well turns out she got engaged last night.”

“That’s awesome! I’m so happy for her!” Scarlet bounces a little, then quickly returns to a more serious tone. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Yeah I’m happy for her too.” And you genuinely are.

You pause for another moment, teetering on the edge of playing your emotions off like it’s no big deal or exposing all of your concerns yet again. Your need for an outlet to vent to wins in the end. For the first time you find yourself unable to confide in Karli because you want her to be happy and focus on the engagement rather than to be preoccupied with you. Before you know it, the words flow from your mouth like running water.

“It’s just that her announcement really brought me back to earth, and I started thinking a little too much about my own life.” You purse your lips. “I don’t know… I feel pretty selfish right now because she’s doing so well and I just can’t help comparing my life to hers. I’m so proud of her but it’s like everything in her life is coming together and I just want that for me also.” You throw your hands up in frustration, almost knocking the phone off from where it leans on your pillow. “I mean we’re the same age for god's sake! Why can’t I get my shit together??”

“Well you should be proud of yourself though,” Hazel cuts in. “Cause we are.” He gestures to Scarlet and himself.

“Yeah!” Scarlet chimes. “I mean you’ve got a full time job and a place to stay. I know you don’t feel like it’s the most ideal situation right now but please don’t discredit yourself.”

“Thanks guys.” You calm down a bit, but then you remember the whole issue with your apartment. Scratching the back of your neck, a habit you’ve picked up whenever you’re nervous, you say in a much smaller voice, “although my ‘place to stay’ might not last much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Both boys’ eyebrows are raised in confusion.

You realize you never mentioned your living situation to them, the topic always pushed to the back of your mind whenever they initiated conversation.

“Yeah.” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “My lease ends soon and Ayah wants to move to a place of her own. And I have two months to figure out where to live or find another roommate.” You let out a frustrated huff. “She’s been so helpful but still no luck I guess.” You shrug in defeat.

You feel like a balloon that’s lost all its air, brain exhausted from running through all the problems in your life.

“Actually that’s pretty convenient for- ” Scarlet starts, but is elbowed again in the ribs by Hazel. “Ow!”

“Not yet!” The cat hisses quietly to him.

“Huh?” Now you’re confused. What in the world are they talking about?

Hazel turns back to you. “I’m really sorry about everything Y/N. If there’s anything we can do to help please let us know.” 

“Thanks buddy.” You offer him a small smile, choosing to ignore what just happened since they clearly don’t want to reveal anything just yet. 

Hazel then shifts to a more nervous stance, ears slightly flattening and both hands grabbing his floofy grey tail for comfort. It’s the cutest goddamn thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So Y/N, um, there’s a reason we called you tonight.”

You’re glad for a change in subject, a much needed distraction away from your downward spiraling thoughts.

“Oh right! Yeah. What’s up guys?”

Scarlet steps in front of him again, blocking most of the screen.

“We have a surprise for you!” He’s so close to the camera that you can only see half of his unblemished face but from the way his eyes crinkle, you can tell he’s giddy with anticipation.

“A surprise- ?”

“Yeah!!”

Hazel nudges himself into view again. “Quit hogging the whole screen fox! I swear to god next time we’re using the tv. I can’t see anything! Anyways,” he turns to you and smooths his shirt, expression back to stoic, “are you free next weekend?”

“I should be. Why?” You’re still a little lost on what the surprise is.

“Cause we’re coming back to town!” Scarlet blurts out.

“You are?!” Suddenly all your negativity melts away, replaced by excitement. Hard to believe just five simple words can shift your mood a complete 180°.

“But wait, there’s more!” You snort at how much Scarlet sounded like an infomercial just now.

“We’d like to invite you to dinner next Saturday night. If that’s ok with you?” Hazel isn’t as physically expressive as Scarlet but the hopeful shine in his eyes gives himself away.

You melt at his expression, heart rate speeding up. “Of course that’s ok! I’d love to!”

“Great!” He flashes one of his rare gummy smiles. “Saturday night. 7 pm. We’ll text you the details.”

“Yep!” Scarlet pipes in. “There’s something important we gotta ask- !” He lets out a small gasp, tail bristling, and clamps a hand over his mouth as if he just said something he shouldn’t have.

“What’s important?” You’ve gotta admit, your curiosity is at its peak right now, and it doesn’t help that they’re acting a little weird today.

Hazel rubs his temples in exasperation, groaning at Scarlet. “What part of ‘not yet’ did you not understand?” He then addresses you. “Sorry Y/N I promise we’ll tell you when we see you in person.” 

“Ok.” Cool. That’s fine. You’re a little nervous about what they have to say and it’ll be torture to wait but you’re a big girl and you can handle not knowing for a week. “I can’t wait to see you guys!!” you added.

“Me too!” Scarlet’s personality is so bubbly and contagious that you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Same.” Hazel lets out a small yawn. “Well we’re in a different time zone than you and it’s really late here so I gotta hit the hay.”

“Mk, go get your beauty sleep.” You give them a little wave. “And thanks for everything. I mean it.”

“No problem Y/N.” Scarlet also gives off a yawn, stretching his tired limbs. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

After ending the facetime call, you lie on your back, staring at the ceiling. Your mind is active once again, but this time it’s not clouded with self-deprecating thoughts. Instead, you spend the remainder of the evening theorizing about the ‘important’ things the boys have to tell you. Maybe you’ll finally find out their real names. Or maybe they’ll reveal something else about themselves, like why they’re constantly travelling, or what they actually do for a living. Either way you can’t wait for next Saturday to come around.

Previous | Next

[toziers]

78 👀

every little thing she does is magic / every thing she does just turns me on / even though my life before was tragic / now, I know my love for her goes on - #78: every little thing she does - sleeping at last

bill denbrough is a moron. like, he’s not stupid stupid — well, he is, he’s a little stupid — but god, is he an idiot. bill’s the kind of guy to hear the waiter say careful, it’s hot, and take a big, scalding bite anyway; the kind of guy who searches his entire house from top to bottom looking for a pair of jorts only to find he’s been wearing them the whole time (and, obviously, the kind of guy to own jorts in the first place). bill’s the kind of guy who throws his entire body weight into pushing on a pull door, bounces off with a confused “oh!”, and then pushes it again, like it might work the second time.

(it’s okay, he always gets it by the third.)

bill’s also the kind of guy who, when he was a kid, set out little bowls of milk in the garden to help the snails grow big and strong; the kind of guy who bought nice china to put the cat food on so that dr. peanut butter could feel fancy during his meals — the kind of guy who named their cat dr. peanut butter.

bill denbrough was an idiot, but he was a kind, good-intentioned, sweet as hell kind of idiot.

and fuck, if mike wasn’t head over heels for him because of it.

actually, mike was pretty sure bill was head over heels right back. there are moments (moments that stacked up into hours, probably days) when mike’s so positive that bill feels the same way he does that it hurts a little to think about for too long. they’ll be sitting in the field by the hanlon farm talking — well. bill will be talking, and mike will be listening, his smile growing a little bit bigger each time bill calls the barn the “sheep house”. regardless, they’ll be talking, and eventually bill will trail off, and mike will look over to find bill staring, big blue eyes soft and unwavering. when bill realizes he’s been caught, he’ll give this quiet, nervous laugh, and flush as red as the sheep house behind him.

mike never says anything, though. it’s not that he’s scared — at least, he doesn’t think he’s scared. actually, falling in love with bill had happened so gently, so easily, that there was never time to feel anything but safe. bill, with his kind eyes and tender hands, makes mike feel the bravest he’s ever felt. it’s also not that mike doesn’t want to say anything either; mike just doesn’t say anything because it never feels like quite the right time.

there’s a lot of almosts, though. bill pours his entire glass of water on the floor one day after eddie asks him what time it is; it’s not his fault, you know, the watch was just on the wrist of the same hand he’d happened to be holding the glass of water in. mike almost says something then.

once, mike had to watch bill try and make hot chocolate: bill filled up a mug with milk and tried to put it in the microwave, but found the mug was too tall. so he’d dumped out some milk, and tried to put it in again. mike almost says something after that, too.

last week, bill had called mike in a rush of stuttered words and frantic breaths.

“m-my car has been stolen!” he’d said once mike had calmed him down. “i g-got off the bus after w-work and it was just gone!”

“bill,” mike asked, that same little smile on his face. “how’d you get to work this morning?”

“i d-drove, but—“ the man’s voice trailed off as the dots connected.

mike had been so close to saying i’m in love with you bill denbrough he had to literally bite his tongue.

somehow, he’d managed. he’d driven bill to work and followed him back, and then he’d stayed for supper, and when bill finished an incredibly intelligent rant about the importance of the oxford comma by showing mike a minion meme on his phone, mike managed to keep his silence once more.

it’s like everyone in the world has their own little superpower: their own, daily magic. maybe bev’s was always being able to pull off an outfit — even one that shouldn’t have worked on anybody. maybe richie’s was always being able to make someone laugh — even if it took a few tries to get there. maybe bill’s was being the smartest, kindest idiot in all of maine; maybe mike’s was falling in love with him, and being able to keep his mouth shut about it.

“i juh-just think that it could use some s-sprucing up is all,” bill says one day, talking.

“mmm,” mike hums, listening.

“a fresh c-coat of paint, you know?”

“we painted it last fall,” mike points out, because bill had been there to help — his first fall out of college as a bonafide adult with his own apartment and everything, and he’d still chosen to spend most of his free time painting the barn and house so that the hanlons didn’t have to hire anyone.

“i m-meant the inside.” bill sits up in the grass, excitement creeping into his voice as he makes plans. “i think it’d b-be nice if we painted mur— mura— landscapes inside f-for them. so even when they’re s-sleeping, they can s-still be outside.” the man’s on a roll now, practically vibrating with how passionate he is about the whole thing. “i c-can sketch out some ideas later and s-send you pictures. maybe i’ll pull out my wuh-wuh-watercolors tonight, juh-just for fun. it might help them feel less lonely.” bill’s eyebrows furrow: a snag in his thought process. “i don’t know if sheep feel luh-lonely, but, you know. if they do, a home m-makeover might help.”

mike closes his eyes; he can’t take it. it’s so goddamn adorable, honest-to-god fucking precious, that he feels pinned to the ground where he lays. bill wants to paint murals of fields and flowers for his sheep. so they feel less lonely. bill wants to hand paint the sheep house as a favor to the sheep that live there.

if little magic was supposed to work every time, maybe mike’s little magic was only the loving bill part; maybe the keeping his mouth shut was just a herculean restraint he could no longer control.

“bill, you have gotta’ stop saying things like that.” mike’s voice is low and relaxed, and the tornado of butterflies that usually spin around his stomach after bill does something particularly endearing is, for once, absent.

it feels, for the first time, like the right time.

bill pauses in his mental planning, confusion seeping into his face. “things like wuh-what?”

mike opens his eyes, squinting against the rays of the sun before tilting his head to look at bill through the tall blades of grass. “things that make me wanna’ kiss you.”

for a second, bill’s face pulls down further with confusion, before his eyebrows rocket into his red-brown hairline and his cheeks go pink. then, he looks nervous. “wh-why would you—“

bill’s not a total moron. he’s not; he can write a paper so beautifully eloquent it will make you think you’re reading poetry, not just an essay for a history class he only took for elective credits. sometimes there’s just not enough power in bill’s body to power both his brain and his giant heart, and usually his heart won out.

and because bill’s not a total moron, he can’t say he totally didn’t see this coming; he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what this means, and he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly.

bill tries — not very hard, but he tries — to hold back the smile that threatens. “what will you d-do if i don’t stop?”

like honey, mike’s grin appears: slow and sweet. “i guess i’ll just have to kiss ya.”

“alright.” bill looks over his shoulder at the barn behind him, and when he turns back to the man on the ground he’s got this coy little sparkle in his eye. “sh-sheep house,” he says, and then:

“o-oh. guess you have to k-kiss me now.”

so mike sits up, and he does just that— because bill’s little magic always, always worked.

[magicsmutshop]

When You See My Base Line - Pt 1

part 1 of 4

Pairing: Jung Hoseok/Reader Genre: Multi-chapter smut Rating: Explicit Word count: ~2500 Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, drooling over Hoseok’s perfect face and body Summary: You need a hobby, so you take a figure drawing class. Hoseok is the nude model. Note: this is my first fic so please take good care of me! Navigation: part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Who is that man talking to Namjoon by the desk? You’ve never seen him before, but as you look him up and down, you definitely like what you see. Dark, wavy hair with blond streaks flops over his finely-drawn eyebrows. The man’s eyes appealingly crinkle as he beamed at your art teacher, showing off a wide, heart-shaped grin.  He looks a bit short standing next to Namjoon--but who doesn’t, next to that tree of a man? More importantly, his loose hoodie and baggy yellow shorts reveal swathes of honey skin and lean muscle. He has the look of a dancer, slender but powerful. Your eyes catch on his exposed thighs (those shorts were really rather short, weren’t they?). Damn, those are truly something to behold. You’d never considered yourself a leg woman before, but those yellow shorts are changing your outlook. 

As you drag your appreciative gaze back up his body and face (was that a freckle on his top lip?), you realize Yellow Shorts is looking right back at you. You get lost in his dark brown eyes for a moment until it dawns on you that you’ve just been busted checking this gorgeous man out. His smile grows impossibly wider as your cheeks grow hot. Damn your easy blushes.

You quickly break eye contact, busying yourself with digging through your leather satchel, pretending to look for your pencils. Your hands are actually trembling a bit, and you can feel your heart pounding. How can a 5-second eye lock have such an effect on you? Yellow Shorts is still talking to Namjoon, but every time you accidentally look in their direction (who are you kidding? Your stare is drawn to him like you're magnetized), you can feel the weight of his gaze on you.  

Suddenly, Namjoon breaks the tension by clapping his hands together, drawing the attention of everyone sitting at their easels. You turn your attention towards your teacher, but out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Yellow Shorts slipping away towards the screen in the corner of the studio. Is he the model for tonight? You could only be so lucky.

“Hey guys, welcome to week three! Glad you could all make it out on this rainy evening.” Namjoon addresses the class, a dimple appearing in his right cheek as he smiles. “By now, you’re all pretty familiar with the drill, right? We’ll start off with 5 minutes of quick warm-up sketches, and then move into some 10-minute poses. 15 minute coffee break at the hour mark, and then we’ll do a 45-minute pose. Sound good?” He nudges his black-rimmed glasses up his nose as your classmates murmur their agreement. 

As you pull your sketchbook out of your bag, you think back to how you’d ended up in this studio in the first place. 

---

You’d just ended an 18-month long relationship a few months prior. It was a reasonably amicable breakup--no cheating or dramatics. You had just… fallen out of love. In fact, you weren’t sure if you were ever actually in love. Your relationship had quickly fizzled out of the honeymoon stage, so towards the end, you were in a rut of watching bad tv together on the couch nightly, your ex playing Overwatch on his laptop while you browsed Twitter on your phone. Your sex life wasn’t any more interesting--you hadn’t even “Overwatch and chilled” in quite a while. One night, you looked over at him and realized you had no desire to do this for the next 40 years, and told him it was over. He shrugged, barely looking up from his game.

However, no matter how boring it had been towards the end, it had been comfortable companionship, so your apartment now seemed empty at night. Even the stereotypical post-breakup gym routine couldn’t fill the hours, although you had never looked better. You thought about getting back into the dating game, but the selection of men on the apps was, to put it lightly, terrible. 

One night, you were out at a bar with your best friend getting wine-drunk and complaining about your boredom. Ashley took a long sip of her drink before looking at you over her glass. “You know what you need? You need a hobby. And no, Twitter and Tinder don’t count.”

“Twitter is a perfectly valid hobby. I’m keeping up on the latest political news and memes! Plus did you see the latest posts from Mark Ruffalo? That guy is a genius.” You drained the last of your glass and looked around for the server. You needed another drink.

Ashley scoffed. “You’re not even keeping up with politics. You’re getting into flamewars with people over the latest episode of the Bachelorette.” Damn. Your best friend knew you too well. She turned her head and effortlessly flagged the server over while checking her watch. Twenty minutes left for happy hour specials. “Hi, can we get two more glasses of the rosé please?” 

You resisted the urge to check your Twitter account and incur more of Ashley’s scorn. “What do you suggest, then?”

“My coworker, you know the one that had the breakdown after she walked in on her husband fucking the babysitter?” Ashley paused as the server dropped off the fresh drinks.  You nodded--that was a juicy story you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. “Anyway, she started taking art classes at the rec center. She does everything from pottery to watercolors. Apparently, her psychologist recommended it, but she loves it. She never stops talking about how healing it’s been.”

You wrinkled your nose. “The rec center? I thought those classes were for kids and senior citizens.”

“She did mention there are a lot of old people in her classes. But get this--the drawing teacher was this really hot Korean guy. With dimples.” Ashley gave you a meaningful look. She really did know you too well.

“Ehh… art class? I don’t know if that’s really my thing. I haven’t touched a sketchbook in years.” You had actually been a decent artist in high school, but had dropped it in college as you got wrapped up in your classes and parties. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you’d done anything artistic, outside of mandatory bridesmaid crafting duties for bridal showers and bachelorette parties.

“Hot. Korean. Guy. With. Dimples.” Wine splashed out of Ashley’s glass as she jabbed your finger at you for emphasis. “Plus, getting some culture could be healing for you. It worked for Jessica. You really need to get out of the apartment more.”

You gently grabbed Ashley’s glass, rescuing the wine from her flailing and promptly. pouring it down your throat. “I’ll think about it.” You weren’t going to think about it. There was no way you were going to take an art class with a bunch of senior citizens, even with the lure of a hot instructor.

Two drinks later for each of you, Ashley was squinting at your credit card, trying to type the numbers into the rec center’s shitty website on her phone. “Boom, you’re signed up. Class starts Monday so you’d better get your supplies this weekend.”

In your rosé-induced haze, what you hadn’t realized is that Ashley had signed you up for a figure drawing class. You were in for a double shock when you walked into the rec center 10 minutes late that first Monday night. The first shock, that the teacher, Namjoon, really was that hot (with fantastic dimples)--and the second shock, that there was a nude middle-aged man posing on a couch on a small stage.

Much to your surprise (and Ashley’s smugness), the figure drawing class really was enjoyable. Namjoon was a great teacher--patient and encouraging--and you’d forgotten how good it felt to create something rather than just passively consuming media. You’d even gotten used to the nudity as you focused on capturing the model in efficient pencil strokes in your sketchbook. Your first few figure sketches were horribly amateur, but you soon got caught up in the art, and the first two classes had flown by. The second week’s model had been a young college-aged woman with the most amazing tiger tattoo covering her back, which had been a lot of fun to draw. You had been looking forward to what week three would bring, but you had no idea what was really in store for you.

---

As you finish setting out your pencils and erasers, you notice motion from the corner of the room again. The hot guy from earlier emerges from behind the screen… and he's no longer wearing the shorts, but is wrapped in a knee-length gray robe. Oh holy shit, he really is the model for the night. One of your pencils goes flying out of your suddenly-clammy grip and clatters across the floor, rolling to a stop in front of Yellow Shorts. Your face bursts into flames again.

His face scrunches up into a warm smile. “Oops! You might need this.” He bends over (don’t look at his ass, don’t look at his ass), scoops the pencil up, and saunters over to your desk.  The pencil appears in your line of vision where you're staring fixedly down at your sketchbook. Slowly, you look up and meet his twinkling eyes. His smile doesn’t dim as you stare blankly up at him and the little dimples in his cheeks, but he waves the pencil in front of you again. Your attention caught by his hands, you suddenly notice how long and elegant his fingers are. He wears a silver ring on his middle finger, and a delicate chain on his wrist. 

As if in a dream, you finally take the pencil from him. Your hand brushes his. His fingers are warm and dry, but you feel your breath catch at the light touch. He drags a fingertip across your palm as he lets go of the pencil. Your eyes snap up to his, which look decidedly darker. But his light tone of voice doesn’t match his eyes as he simply says, “Here you go! Please use it to draw me well!” He turns away to join Namjoon in front of the stage.

Namjoon chuckles quietly. “Everyone, this is Hoseok, our model for tonight. Some of you might know him already. He’s the dance teacher here at the rec center, but moonlights as an art model in his free time.” A dancer, of course. That explains the muscle. Your blush still hasn’t gone down and your palm is still tingling as you try not to stare at his toned legs. Namjoon turns to Hoseok and claps him on the shoulder. “We’ll start with the 5-minute warmup first, so just change your pose every time you hear the timer beep.”

Yellow Shorts--Hoseok--nods cheerfully. “Aye aye, boss!” He steps up on the stage and unceremoniously shrugs out of his robe, laying it to one side and sitting down on the chaise lounge. All of the blood that had previously been in your cheeks is now rushing down to lower parts as you’re treated to an uninterrupted view of his sinuous body. He’s perfect. His collarbones catch the light as he turns his face to the side, revealing a sharp profile. His biceps flex lightly as he lowers himself down on one elbow, accentuating the line from his elegant shoulders to his narrow waist. A very defined v-line draws your eyes from his lean abs to his relaxed cock resting on one of his gorgeous thighs. You subtly squeeze your legs together under your desk at the sight. Shit, even his dick is perfect. You genuinely think your heart might stop--but what a way to go.

Suddenly, your lustful reverie is broken by the sound of the timer going off, indicating that a minute in the quick sketch period had gone by and it’s time for Hoseok to switch poses.  You haven’t drawn a single line in your sketchbook yet. You’re fucked.

read part 2

[mayve-hems]

Wrapped Around Your Finger | Michael Clifford

Type: IMAGINE | ONE SHOT | MULTI CHAPTER

Summary: After hearing her brother gossip that Michael is wrapped around her finger, Maverly Hemmings decides it’s time that she knows if he really is wrapped around her finger.

Word Count: 5.0k

Note: If you would like to request a one shot / imagine / story prompt then I am accepting requests currently and I would love to take them! This has also not been proof read, just editing for spelling errors. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Cussing, smoking, implied smut

-

Michael Clifford’s fingers dug into the plastic of his red XBOX controller as he twisted the joystick around to face his best friend's characters. He dug a pickaxe into Luke’s character, forcing Luke to respawn without any elements he had in his Minecraft inventory. Michael let out a spurt of laughter into his microphone, letting all of his friends hear him.

“Sucks to be you now, doesn’t it?” Michael asks Luke. Just an hour before Michael went on a homicidal mission to destroy Luke, Luke accidentally shoved Michael off the edge of a cliff and onto stone blocks that ended Michael’s Minecraft life. “Hemmings!” Michael screamed into the microphone. Ashton winced from Michael’s loud voice, regretting turning the volume of his headset up high to hear Luke’s whispering.

“Shut up, Clifford!” Luke whispered into his microphone. Luke’s least favorite -and favorite- siblings lives in the room right next to his. Maverly and Luke agreed that after midnight, Luke wouldn’t scream during video games, and Maverly wouldn’t wake him up in six hours with a bucket of cold water. Maverly also wouldn’t be loud if she was doing something like playing video games -Maverly pretends to be Jack Hemmings on a lot of video games- or listening to music. After Ben and Jack graduated, the twin Hemmings were left to disagree with each other. Luke took his brothers’ room, and Maverly was finally by herself. “Don’t make me get May in here to kill you a thousand times over.”

Michael laughed. “It’s Minecraft, bro, now Call Of Duty.”

“Suck my dick, Clifford,”

“Hey!” Ashton whined. He placed a few more blocks of dirt down into his optical illusion island. He created the realm by himself for when he had been struck with boredom and the inability to actually do homework. Michael logged onto Ashton’s account a few weeks ago and discovered the replication of H.H. Homes Murder Castle and the not-so optical illusion he was attempting to create. Michael whined until Ashton shared it with everybody. “Don’t cuss.”

“Fuck off, Irwin,” whispered Luke.

Michael finished his arrangement of a villager hotel made for absolutely nobody, with purple stained-glass windows. His Minecraft character ran away from the hotel before turning around to make sure he’d moved enough so he could see the entire building on his TV. White quartz outlined the outside thirds of the hotel while orange cement outlines the floors of the middle. Three-by-three windows are the walls for each of the eighteen apartments, showing the single red bed next to a furnace. Michael made every single floor grey, except for the lobby of the hotel. He made the lobby floors oak wood with a jungle wood-plank counter.

“Okay bet my dudes,” Michael says, setting his controller down after viewing the hotel. He’s satisfied with how it currently looks. “I think I’m going to go to sleep.”

“That’s gay,” replied Calum. “It’s barely two, Pussy,”

“Nah, dude,” Luke interjected. “I should probably sleep too. When May falls asleep early, she wakes up early. I’m not fond of having soaking wet clothes.”

“Pussy,” Calum muttered.

“Same,” Ashton paused his game, already starting to log off. “I want a cheese toasty.”

Calum groaned. “I hate all of you wimps.”

They all said their goodbyes and insults before logging off, leaving Calum playing Minecraft by himself in his own realm. Michael opened the sheets of his bed, ready to fall in between the duvet and mattress. Luke shut off his TV and attempted to navigate his way through his bedroom in the dark. He stumbled onto his bed, banging it against the wall. He’ll hear about that from Maverly in the morning. Ashton snuck into his kitchen and began to make one of the best cheese toasties he’s ever tried.

Michael looked through memes on his phone before falling asleep. He stumbled upon ones from his favorite band and let out little spurts of laughter at the inside jokes. He swept to the next meme, ready to laugh again. Tapping against the window above his bed distracted him from reading the meme. The orange-haired teenager glanced at his window, seeing nothing wrong, before looking back at his phone.

Tap . . . tap . . . tap.

He looked at the window again to see a small rock striking the glass and bouncing back to its origin. Michael waited for another to hit the window, and when it did he opened the frame to stare out at the culprit. A curly-haired girl with a leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans was holding a bunch of pebbles in the palm of her hand. Without thinking, she pitched another one at the window, almost hitting Michael in the face. He was suddenly wishing she wasn’t the pitcher of their softball team.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Michael called out to the golden-haired beauty. She resembled her brothers a lot in personality and looks except in her own little way. She was the youngest of the Hemmings kids, but she knew how to hold herself as if she were the oldest. Ben and Maverly compete for control . . . a lot.

“You coming down or what?” Maverly asked through a snicker. She spoke as though it was obvious; I’m throwing rocks at your window so you’ll come down and visit me. What else would I be doing? In certain angles, you could see how she also resembled her mum more than her brothers. “Hello? Mike?”

“Luke said you’re sleeping,”

“And you say you’re not a nerd,”

“I’m not a nerd!” Michael protested.

Maverly reached into her pocket for a cigarette. The boys aren’t stupid -it’s completely obvious that Maverly’s breath smells like cigarettes every so often- but they keep the secret from her family. In return for keeping the secret, she does assignments for them that they’ll fail otherwise. “You were just playing Minecraft with my brother for eight hours straight,” She stuck the butt of the cigarette between her lips and flipped open the Zippo lighter. She lit the end of the stick before sucking in the smoked and pulling the cigarette out of her mouth. “I can leave if you want me too. Just thought we could do something fun tonight.”

Michael considers her offer for a moment. “I’ll be down in a second.” Michael jumped into a pair of jeans off his bedroom floor along with a tank top he ripped out of his dresser. He slipped into sneakers and a snapback before bolting down the stairs and out the back door. Maverly is flicking ash off the cigarette when Michael reaches her. “What do you want to do?”

“Go to the beach?”

“You literally called me out of the house at two AM . . .” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “. . . to go to the beach?”

Maverly rolled her eyes. “If you don’t want to go then you don’t have to,” She put the cigarette back into her mouth for another drag. She offered it to Michael, the one of the group that’s never smoked anything before, and he accepted it. The blonde watched her elder friend figure out how to smoke. He took a deep breath of the smoke before sporadically coughing up smoke. Maverly laughed. “Your decision. Take it or leave it.”

The group jokes that Maverly has Micahel wrapped around her dainty finger, which is absolutely true. Michael denies his crush on the Hemmings girl and claims that they’re just friends. Several times, Michael has dropped whatever task he was working on just to hang out with Luke’s twin. Though their hangouts only lasted a few hours in Luke’s basement with a game of Guitar Hero and a bowl of popcorn, he’d still do anything Maverly wanted to. “Let’s go,”

Maverly went to take back her cigarette but Michael flinched away. He shoved the end back into his mouth and took in a deep breath. Maverly laughed and pulled another out of her pocket. “You’re so innocent.” Maverly giggled. “I’m going to end up corrupting you, Clifford, and your mum is going to hate me.”

“Babe,” Michael said before taking a drag off a cigarette and leading Maverly to the fence gate. The Clifford’s don’t live too far from the Santa Cruz boardwalk and beach -just an hour drive- which has prompted a bunch of midnight beach visits from Michael, his family, and his best friends. It’s always been normal for Maverly and Mali-Koa to tag along with their brothers to the beach. Michael’s never gone with just Maverly to the beach before. “You’re not going to corrupt me, don’t worry.”

“Whatever you ‘wanna believe, Clifford,” Maverly chewed on her lip piercing. Maverly and Luke were at Calum’s house when he prompted a tattoo idea to his mum. A beautiful one- his sister's name tattooed on his arm. Maverly sketched a design for Calum to go off of, and Joy Hood signed the document for teenagers that wanted to get tattoos. Maverly pulled her wallet out of her pocket while Calum was receiving the needles ink and asked for a lip piercing. Luke got one too. Liz Hemmings had a heart attack. “That eyebrow piercing-”

“-Is because Luke has a lip piercing and Cal ‘n’ Ash have tattoos,” Michael finished. He took another drag of his cigarette. Maverly stopped walking towards her Jeep and turned to her friend. “What?” Maverly slapped a tattooed area on Michael’s arm. Michael looked down at his now-reddening arm to see what her problem was. He understood that she meant the ink underneath his skin. “Shut up.”

Maverly giggled.

“Luke is such a pussy,” Michael dropped the rest of his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his foot. “His brothers and friends have tattoos. Hell, his own younger twin has a damn tattoo and he still won’t get one.”

Maverly shrugged. Underneath her leather jacket, the one that matches her older brothers’, she has an entire sleeve of tattoos sitting on her skin from her wrist to her shoulder. A beautiful feather with her brothers signatures in chronological order starting from the stem to the middle point where blue baby footprints start walking to the end. Above the rainbow-shaded feather is the quote ‘Die with memories, not dreams’ delicately written in Liz’s handwriting. The chain of a pocket watch holds onto the top of the feather and wraps all the way around her wrist once then loosely wrapped around her forearm once until it’s right below her elbow. An exact replica of Andrews’ old pocket watch, down to his full name engraved on the glass. The arrows point to the time Maverly was born. Between the feather and the pocket watch sits a sunflower mixed halfway with a yellow rose; in the middle of both flowers are bother of her great-grandmother and great-grandfathers signatures. That whole configuration was her first-ever tattoo; she sat still for several hours just for that.

“Why doesn’t he just get a tattoo with your parents or literally anyone?” Michael asked. “You have a twin tattoo already, he just needs to match it.”

Liz and Andrew got small tattoos to replicate their youngest daughter. Liz got the feather Maverly has, along with all of her kids' signatures in chronological order with six blue baby feet and a single pink pair walking towards the end of the. Hers was shaded with black instead of a rainbow, though. Andrew got the pocket watch wrapping around his arm as a father-daughter tattoo just like Liz and Maverly had already done. Everyone hypothesizes that Luke’s just afraid of needles.

“He’s a pansy, my friend,” Maverly unlocked her Jeep and reached for the drivers' side door. She hopped in and pressed the clutch to the floor. The key turned in the ignition to which Maverly changed the gear to reverse. She waited for Michael to put on his seatbelt before pulling out of his driveway. Maverly enjoys having a manual transmission Jeep Wrangler; Luke is less likely to drive it. She pointed to the fraction on her wrist bone for Michael to see. “He just has to get one-half tattooed right there and the twin tattoo would be finished. But no!”

-

“I’m starving,” Maverly complains, gripping her steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. Their hour-long drive has been delayed almost another hour due to road construction. You’d think the highways wouldn’t be as busy at literally four-in-the-morning but Maverly has been stopped in the same spot for roughly fifteen minutes. “Michael!” the tall girl screams, startling her passenger.

He stirs from his sleep and rubs his eyes. “Pizza.”

“There won’t be a pizza place open for like three more hours,” Maverly realized she’ll be stopped for a while longer so she shoves the gear shift in neutral and lets the vehicle idol while she searches up stores around their current area. Nothing seems interesting. She notices a Walmart sitting near the boardwalk. They’ll last a while longer and stock up with food there. “I’m bored.”

“I’m tired,”

Maverly brushes hair out of her face. She’s not tired- she’s wide awake and kicking. Absentmindedly she outlines the four skull rocker hands at the top of her wrist. The fourth one is shaded pink, while the others have no color at all. Her older brothers got theirs shaded in with blue for the place they took in the chronological sibling order; except for bare-skinned Luke.

Her parents agreed that the only way they would sign for a tattoo is if it has meaning; otherwise, she has to wait until she is of legal age to get anything else. As a result of that rule, she’s filled her entire arm with tattoos honoring her family; from Luke’s favorite guitar with the sound waves of ‘I’ll go with you’ substituted for the frets, to a red outline of Ben, Jack, Luke, and Maverly standing in order when they were younger shifted a little bit above an outline of them standing together at Ben’s graduation in the same order. One of her favorite tattoos has to be a replica of her Grandma’s recorder player with flowers and planets shooting out of the brass horn. Maverly cried when that one was finished.

“Michael, wake up,” Maverly demanded. Michael let out a loud groan, sitting up complete to stare at the piled-up road ahead. “What’s your favorite color?”

The orange-haired boy wanted to smack the shit out of Maverly for asking him such a question instead of letting him sleep. “Red,” Michael bit. Maverly chewed on her lip ring with a smirk. She thought it was red, and boy was she correct. “What about you, Maverly Stella What’s your favorite fucking color?”

“Orange,” Maverly answered before shoving the gear shift into first gear. The line in the construction zone was starting to move. Maverly looked at Michael’s orange hair with a smile; he didn’t know that orange has always been her favorite color but she admired the bright color sitting on top of the blonde strands. A little part of her had hoped that it was orange because of her. “What’s a weird fact about yourself?”

Michael sighed before rubbing his face with his large hands. His fingers rubbed his eyes until he began seeing swirling colors in his eyesight. “My middle name is Gordon. Yo-”

“-Give me something that’s actually weird.”

“Um . . .” Michael thought aloud. “There’s this hella’ cute girl I know and she would never like me back. That’s weird. What’s a weird fact about you?”

“There aren’t any weird facts about me, Gor, I’m a normal human being,”

Michael let out strings of laughter. He could barely contain the giggles erupting from his body. “You’re not weird? Your name is Maverly, while you have brothers named Luke, Ben, and Jack.”

“Dad joked that Luke and I would be twins to Mom and said she’d name one Maverly if we were,”

“Your arms are covered in tattoos!”

“They all have a specific meaning.”

“You smoke cigarettes and nobody in your family knows!”

“Ashton’s my supplier and you guys keep secrets.”

“You’re fucking beautiful and you don’t have a boyfriend!”

Maverly giggled a little bit. A blush was beginning to creep across her cheeks, but at night illuminated by only dim headlights, Michael would never see. “I’m saving myself for someone certain.”

“You drew up all of your tattoos!”

“Natural talent in drawing.”

“You have an excuse for everything, don’t you?” Michael asked. He crossed his arms and looked out the window. He was no longer feeling tired. Maverly sped the Jeep up, leaving the construction zone and going into an area where she could easily speed. “How do you drive this thing anyways?”

Maverly moved her hand from the gearshift the grab Michaels. His hand felt warm from her palm as she set it over the stick. “Just wait,” she sped up a little bit before hearing the engines correct pitch for turning over, then released the gas pedal and stuck the clutch to the floor. She gripped Michael’s hand and changed from third gear to fourth. Her feet switched positions with the clutch returned and the gas pedal back down. She replicated the same thing to put the Jeep in fifth gear, then she released Michael’s rugged hand. “It’s easy. You just have to hear it and remember.”

Michael stared out the window again. He hated how his hand felt underneath hers- rather he hated that he liked being able to touch her hand. Luke’s had a strict No Touching My Sister rule for the boys. That doesn’t stop Maverly cuddling Calum or Ashton. They’re like her brothers also. “You’ve been driving for long enough that you remember.”

“That’s the point,” Maverly snickered. “So. I was thinking we could get something at like Walmart or whatever. You hungry?”

-

“How the fuck do you pick out a cantaloupe?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maverly you’re supposed to know this shit. Which cantaloupe is the best?”

“I don’t know, Michael!”

“Fuck it. I’ll just get this one. Do you have a knife?”

“No?”

“Then get one!”

-

Maverly dug a brand new metal spoon into the meat of her half of the cantaloupe. She pulled the melon away from the skin and shoved the huge bite into her mouth. “This is good, you picked out a good one.” the blonde laughed.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he dug into the other half. “Just eat your stupid cantaloupe.” the juice from the melon dripped down his face from his first bite. He wiped it away with the collar of his shirt. “It’s getting everywhere.”

“Michael, we’re at the beach. You’re going to get some type of wet no matter what,” Michael stopped chewing to stare at his younger friend. Maverly broke her stare on the dusk sunrise to see why the boy was silent. Michael blinked a few times, trying to insinuate a sexual innuendo that Maverly barely understood for a few moments. “I mean that works too, but-”

“May, why are we here?” Michael set his spoon into the carved out center inside the melon. “Not just wanting to go to the beach at literally two AM. Why are we here?”

Maverly laughed. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Michael pleaded. “I just want to know why you didn’t choose your brother or I don’t know . . . Calum?”

“If you didn’t want to come then you didn’t have to, Mike,” Maverly shoveled more melon into her mouth. Her belly was empty and running on a McDonald's coffee she bought herself before entering Santa Cruz. “I would have left you alone and bothered them.”

“It’s not that,” Michael set the round end of the melon into the sand. His hands grabbed her face so she’d look at him and understand that this was a real question of his. Why did Maverly choose Michael over the ones closest to her? “I wanted to come. But why did you chose me.”

“I still can’t tell you that,” Maverly stared at Michael’s face, feeling herself fall a little bit more in love with him. Without looking at her end of the cantaloupe, she still carved out a piece with the spoon and stuck it into her mouth. “That’s confidential.”

“That makes it sound like you’re going to kill me, May,”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

It’s no secret to Luke that Michael is absolutely smitten over the youngest Hemmings; the rest of their friend group always torments Michael that he’s wrapped around Maverly’s skinny little finger. Ashton jokes that hidden in one of Maverly’s tattoos is a meaning for Michael and her hidden crush on him, but he only says things like that to Maverly. The first time that was said, Maverly was laying next to Ashton, helping build his H.H. Homes Murder Castle. Maverly set TNT off inside of the castle in frustration towards Ashton and destroyed almost the whole outline. Even though he was angry, Ashton understood that Maverly fancied his younger friend and that she did not want to talk about it. Calum laughed when he realized the Clemmings ship was practically in love with each other and did absolutely nothing to push them together.

“Then why are we here!” Michael screamed.

“I want to go swimming,” Maverly shrugged. She forced herself away from Michael so she could see the sunrise again. Maverly Hemmings is known for appreciating nature and basic artistic masterpieces. She’s amazing at makeup. She’d be wearing a full face of makeup if she didn’t feel comfortable around Michael. She wants to paint the sky onto a piece of paper and replicate it into an eyeshadow look for somebody, but she knows that nobody would appreciate it. “I thought you’d like to go swimming with me.”

“It’s five.”

“And?”

“We could have swum in your backyard.”

“That’s not the same.” Maverly set her melon down into the sand like Michael’s. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to taste the cantaloupe on his lips and the cherry chapstick he denies using. The blonde wants to run her fingers through orange strands of hair and the stroke of his calloused thumbs across her cheekbones.

“Yes, it is,” Michael stared back at Maverly. “Why did you bring me out here?”

“I wanted to swim,” Maverly stated again, but slower.

“Why didn’t you tell me to grab something to swim in then?”

Maverly paused to think up a reason. It took her over a minute. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Yes, you did,”

“No, I didn’t,”

“I bet you ten dollars that you’re wearing a swimming suit under your jacket,”

A blush made itself apparent on her face. She’s not wearing a swimming suit under the jacket; she’s not wearing anything underneath her clothes beside a red bra with matching panties. “Then fork up the money, Clifford.”

“Prove it to me then,” Michael said with complete seriousness. He was almost certain that she had planned on embarrassing Michael by being the only one in the water, or if he wanted to swim he had to skinny dip or wear soaking-wet underwear all the way home. Of course, Maverly Hemmings would be the one to do that to him. He can’t believe that he’s practically fallen for her thousand times over. “Prove it to me that you’re not dressed to swim in the ocean and try to embarrass me.”

Maverly blushed even harder. “You don’t want me to prove it to you.”

“Yes, I do,” Michael was angry. His mind had completely convinced him that he was just going to be embarrassed. If so, he had a few friends in Santa Cruz that would take him home. Or, he’d wake up Calum or Ashton and request that they drive to the boardwalk. Maybe he should just be a dick and wake up Luke, spoil the news that his perfect little sister snuck out and drove two hours to embarrass him.

“One-hundred percent sure?” Maverly asked. “No doubt that you want me to prove to you?”

“One-hundred,” Michael enunciated. “Prove to me that you’re not just a bitch.”

Maverly swallowed. She tugged at the zipper of her leather jacket with shaking hands. Slowly, if fell down the track to Maverly’s jean button. She was sweating, a result of a black leather jacket and a humid beach, so her palms and fingertips felt slick when she pulled the zipper completely away from the attaching side. She opened the jacket and felt thankful the beach was empty besides them. The skinny girl shrugged the heater off her shoulders and let it fall into the sand. Like it was just something she normally did, her hand reached for the melon to take another bite.

“I swear I didn’t think about that,”

Michael’s eyes were sitting on her boobs in the red bra. Two inches of lace wrapped around the bottom of the bra and covered a tattoo Michael didn’t realize she had. He couldn’t stop staring at her not-so flat chest.

“If I knew you fetishized boobs so much, I would’ve worn actual lingerie,”

“I’m not- I don’t- I . . .” Michael felt the smallest bit of constriction in his pants. He forced his eyes to the dark sky to ignore the topless girl in front of him. “Again, why are we here?”

“I can’t tell you,”

“Why can’t you tell me?!”

“Because I was seeing if something Luke said was true!” Maverly screamed. She turned to grab her jacket from the sand and put it on as quickly as she could. She wasn’t feeling confident enough to show her bare torso anymore.

“What did Luke say?”

"Nothing," Maverly dismissed. She waved her hand like it was the end of the conversation and fished her keys out of her pocket. "Let's go."

"You drug me out here, Maverly Hemmings!" Michael screamed. "I said I would go with you to Santa Cruz and two AM, you woke me up to share fun facts, I helped you pick out a cantaloupe, I bought you cigarettes with my ID, I- I am sitting in the sand with you at five AM after walking around Walmart and testing how soft pillows can fucking be!"

"I'm sorry!" Maverly cried. "I . . . I shouldn't have brought you out here and- and I just thought-!"

"-What did you think, Maverly?"

"Would you shut up and let me talk!" Maverly yelled. She didn't have an excuse, just that she wanted to see if Michael really liked her. "Would you like to know the real reason I drug you all the way out here?"

"Gladly!"

Maverly grabbed a handful of his shirt to bring them together and she shoved her lips to his. It felt like lightbulbs burst around them with such power that their ears were left ringing in the darkness of Santa Cruz. It felt like sparks were fusing their lips. It felt like when you bite into sweet fruit. It felt like the sun after a long rainy day. It felt like electricity flowing through every vein and nerve. Maverly was the first to pull away and rest her head against Michael's with her fingertips dancing through small strands of hair.

"Luke told you guys how you're practically wrapped around my finger," Maverly whispered. Michael pressed his thumb to the corner of her lips. "Michael Clifford, I've loved you for years and . . . I just thought that-"

"You're stupid." Michael laughed before kissing the girl he loved again. His hands ran their course on the curvature of her body, leaving tingles over every area they touched. He released her lips from his and watched how she reacted. She smiled and seemed relaxed as if she just smoked. But she didn't- it was just the effect that Michael had on her. "If anybody asks," Michael whispered. "I threw rocks at your window instead of the other way around."

-

"Wake up!" Maverly screamed before pouring a bucket of ice water on her sleeping twin brother. Michael laughed from the open doorway of Luke's room as Luke jumped up from his bed in just a pair of blue boxers, confused and whipping around to face Maverly. "Hi, I love you but-"

Through shivers, Luke lifted Maverly in a bridal style and exited his room. He didn't say a word; just walked past Michael and into the hallway. Michael followed behind, wondering if Luke even realized he was there.

"Luke?" Liz asked. Luke ignored his mother and continued towards the open balcony.

He's had enough of being woken up with water in a bucket and having to change his sheets and dry his mattress! He's tired of being freezing and having to sit in a bathtub of boiling water just moments from waking. He's tired of it. He stood on the balcony and held his little sister close.

"Luke, no!" Maverly pleaded, not wanting to be thrown in the pool. She had just showered and put on clean clothes! She didn't want to repeat the same process!

After a make-out session with Michael on the Santa Cruz sand, they skinny-dipped in the ocean like it was something normal. Michael slept on the way back to his house but only grabbed clean clothes from his bedroom. Michael and Maverly managed to have a -quiet- shower together with lots of making out and 'Stop looking at my boobs, Maverly Hemmings!' They dressed, took a few-hour nap, and thought of the best way to wake up Luke. Maverly knew she had to go with what she normally did.

Luke swung his sister over the railing of the balcony, and she landed in the pool. A belly-flop hurt her stomach but she still surfaced infuriated with her brother. Luke clapped his hands together as if removing dirt and started back into the house.

"Go help your girlfriend," Luke demanded tiredly to Michael.

"How do you . . ?" Michael trailed off to his friend.

"The hoodie, dumbass," Luke answered.

Michael looked over the railing at his girlfriend going up the ladder of the pool. Maverly peeled the 'CLIFFORD 95' hoodie off her body and cursed at Luke. "Whoops.”

-

Request here

[chalantness]

Hi, I don't know if you're still taking those six sexy word prompts but if you are CaptainHill #5.

5. Teach me something new. I’m ready. (six sexy words meme) (also for @romanovascap because I still owe you your Steve/Maria request)

It’s something they don’t do very often, though not for lack of wanting. Their schedules are simply too crazy, too unpredictable, and what little time they manage to steal for themselves is almost always spent in a tangle of limbs, a blur of hot breaths and frantic touches and sweet whispers from underneath the sheets. They both have important roles to play out in the world.

But the ones they find together, in the safe haven of her apartment?

Those are her favorite. And oh, is he good at following her lead.

They never really have a plan, never follow some kind of script. Playing a role is second nature to both of them, and yet, this is different. She never feels most like herself than she does with him, even when she slips into another persona.

Like tonight, when she’d come home to find him sitting at her desk chair in the spare room, still dressed from the meeting he and Tony had to attend a few hours earlier. His blazer had been shrugged off and draped over the desk, his tie loosely draped around his neck, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. He was sitting with his ankle resting on the knee of his other leg, a pencil held in his hand and his sketchbook opened in his lap. His forehead had been creased in concentration, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted ever so slightly.

And every nerve in her body had tingled to life.

He’d lifted his head to when he noticed her in the doorway, of course, lips starting to move in a greeting, but she pressed a finger to her lips. And he blinked, eyes darkening in immediate understanding as he nodded once.

And now, here she is, sitting on top of the desk while he sits in his chair and sketches her. Her legs are spread, her Burberry skirt bunched around her waist and her unbuttoned blouse falling off of one shoulder, exposing the burgundy lingerie she’d worn underneath. He’d had her hitch one heeled ankle up on the desk, had her tip her head back just so. She knows she’ll be at least a little sore in the morning from holding this pose, but she hardly notices it right now. Not when her skin feeling this flushed. And definitely not with the slick ache between her legs.

“You doing alright there, Miss Hill?”

She licks her lips, nodding once, her hair falling over her shoulder.

“Because there are other ways we can go about handling your art grade,” he goes on. His voice is perfect: smooth yet firm, patient yet slightly teasing. Like a man who knows how to indulge in what he wants. “Not that I mind you as my muse.”

“What… other ways?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to find out?”

“I just really want to impress you,” she tells him, voice soft, as if admitting a secret. She tilts her head, glances at him from under her eyelashes.

She swears she sees his lips twitch in barely-restrained amusement. Not that she blames him. They may both be reserved, yes, but neither of them have ever been timid people. It should be ridiculous for this to turn her on, except it does, and she can’t quite help it.

“Get off,” he orders, setting his sketchbook aside so he can stand. She slides off of the desk and onto her feet. “Turn around and bend over.”

She follows, bending at her hips and slowly folding herself over the desk. It’s just slightly too short, causing her to bend at an angle, and she slides her hands over the wood and grips the edge of it for support. She glances out the window overlooking the parking lot of her complex, and a side of apartments from the building next door. She realizes it’s very unlikely that someone would be able to look over and make out her face from this distance, or ever make out the two of them in this room, but still. The thought alone makes a shiver roll down her spine.

Then Steve slips his hand between her legs and slides over her clit, making her hips jump.

“You have the perfect curves to your back, Miss Hill.” He’s standing close enough that she can practically feel his legs against the backs of her thighs. But not enough for him to actually touch. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

She shakes her head. “No, sir.”

“That’s unfortunate. Would you mind showing me?”

He’s circling gently, almost lazily, over her clit, over and over, making her mind hazy, and it takes a moment for her to realize the command he’s hidden under his question. She peels herself out of her blouse, tosses it aside. He uses his other hand to sweep her hair over one shoulder, baring her back to him, and he leans over her and presses a kiss just above the band of her bra.

“I could spend hours on the curve of your back and never perfect it,” he murmurs into her skin, then snatches the clasp of her bra between his teeth and snaps it off. It falls from her shoulders, and he spreads a hand over her back and gently pushes her down, making her nipples graze the cold wood.

She bites down a whimper.

“What was that, Miss Hill?” He gently nudges her ankles further apart with his foot before she can even think to respond, dips two fingers inside of her, and she bites down even harder to muffle a mewl. “I don’t think I quite heard you.”

She lets out a shaky breath, rolling her hips back into his hand.

He slides a hand between her body and the desk, cupping one of her breasts and tugging at her nipple. Her forehead drops to the desk, a quite but harsh breath hissing from her lips, and then he’s curling his fingers, pulling back out and sinking a third in, and she lets out a long, low moan.

She can practically hear his smirk. “You’re doing so well, Miss Hill.”

“Maria,” she breathes out, voice surprisingly steady.

He pulls his hand away, and her heart skips when she hears him undo the buckle of his belt, letting it clatter to the floor as he unzips his slacks.

“Given our relationship, I don’t know how appropriate that would be,” he says, leaning over her until his chest flushed to her back. She can feel him between her legs, brushing against the inside of her thigh. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but he pushes into her without warning, and she’s so slick that he slides in easily, bottoming out and causing her to toss her head back and moan his name. She curls her fingers over the edge of the desk as he starts thrusting, slow and steady at first, and she’s not sure if it’s to give her time to adjust to how much deeper and fuller everything feels at this angle, or if it’s to tease her, but if she’s being honest? She thinks it’s a little bit of both.

But he doesn’t keep the pace for long. He only lasts a few more thrusts like this before his hips grow more frantic, sinking in deeper and harder and faster, and he grasps her hips with both hands to bring her body to meet his thrusts.

“O-oh, oh, god.”

He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss over the pulse in her neck, suckling gently, and her eyes flutter closed.

“You have no idea how often I draw you, Miss Hill,” he groans out. “How many different times I’ve pictured you. How many different ways.”

He hooks a hand behind her leg and bends it, hooking her knee onto the edge of the desk and opening her up wider, sinking in even deeper. She moans a little louder, a little longer, her every thought dissolving into a haze of white-hot pleasure. She can feel her stomach tightening, tightening, her walls fluttering.

“You, bent over this desk, like right now.” He cups one of her breasts again to tug at her nipple, making her mewl as he rolls it between her fingers. “Or you completely bared and spread out, so I can use your perfect skin as my canvas.”

“S-St…” She can’t think straight. She can’t think at all. “Sir.”

“Me sitting at my chair with you above me, riding me, taking your pleasure,” he goes on, reaching between her legs to circle her clit, once, twice, three times. “Your thighs wrapped around my head, not caring that everyone can hear us.”

Then he finds her clit, rubbing it over and over and over, a little harder and a little harder, and she unravels at the seams with a whimper, dissolving into a keening moan as he keeps thrusting, keeps circling over her clit, making her chest squeeze, her lungs burn, her body writhe. She flutters around him and jerks her hips back, trying to keep up, but she’s overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

It only takes a few more thrusts and he’s right there behind her, falling apart with a low groan as he presses his body over hers, peppering wet, sloppy kisses to her back. He’s still circling her clit, but there’s no rhyme or reason.

It takes a long moment for them to start to come back down, and then his forehead drops to her shoulder, his body leaning more against hers, sated.

“You alright, Maria?”

God, yes. She’s more than alright.

And they’re nowhere near done.

She hooks her hand over the back of his neck, twists her head and brings his lips to hers in a deep kiss. Even with the last tremors still rippling through her body, she feels her sex pulse, her heart thrum. She’s already craving more.

“I thought that was inappropriate, sir?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.

Steve’s lips quirk, and she taps his hips, whimpering ever so slightly as he pulls out. Then she turns around and hitches herself on top of the desk again, tugs open the side drawer he’s commandeered for his art supplies and fumbles for a moment until she grasps onto a few tubes of oil paints and pulls them out.

“There’s something else I’ve had trouble with,” she tells him, holding up the paints for him to see. He smirks. “Maybe you can show me how it’s done?”