#my fave couples on earth

[dungeonbf]

ppl who r “bad” for each other but good for each other.. ughhh u guys r cute!!!!! complex, but cute which is sooo real. also for the record PLAY WITH THAT MAN’S HAIR he probably needs the affection anyhow. umm my grey’s anatomy crushes *blinks* *looks away* they r stupid idiots. DEATH TO THEM. I wanted to be normal. I rlly did… and then one of them is like a normal f/o to have, he’s sweet. the other… he is such a dick and he had like a lil bit of development before reverting he’s SO SOOO kill worthy. like buddy, get help. he just has trust issues n stuff but he’s such an asshole abt it.. anyhow. I cld talk more abt them buttt this is a good introduction. sweetie & dickhead.

— @boykujou

@boykujou YESS EXACTLY you get the vision. we are a little insane but in a good way. going to pepper him in kisses now :3

SWEETIE AND DICKHEAD, IM GIGGLING… dickhead reminds me of house from that medical tv show, house - does dickhead also perform medical malpractice? i’m sooo curious about you two. i think loving kill worthy men is sooo based, it should be more widespread. what’s your dynamic with them like?? is he the type to go on dates??

[supurman]

when you say you think superman's boring, this is who youre being mean to btw.

[supercantaloupe]

why do they even make/sell matzo that isn't suitable for pesach

[aria0fgold]

The moment I start listening to three different versions of a song is the moment I just know... I absolutely love it. (As if the amount of repeats I've had of it in the background wasn't enough).

[mickyschumacher]

[DRESS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: being in a secret relationship with lando norris has been a journey in itself. but nothing comes harder than the moments where you both struggle to keep your hands off one another.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), unprotected sex (wrap it before your tap it lol), cumming inside, voyeurism, fingering, slight handjob, boyfriend established but secret, cute cringe couple humour, obvious pining, poor knowledge of pr specialist things, mentions of mental health and stress, mclaren in itself needs a warning, mention of fave menace w*ll b*xton (simply ew), allusion of future marriage

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x mclaren’s pr specialist!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is based of taylor swift’s ‘dress’! okay, so i’m giving you lovelies this one and some others while i study for my last exam 😔 i actually have some requests which are exciting and nerve wrecking but i'm gonna try my level best to do them after my exam. although i’m also supposed be on a plane not too soon after. anyways, thank you so much for your support and patience ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

As a PR specialist, things were constantly changing. For example, for a certain amount of time you were assigned to Fernando Alonso when he was under McLaren. Quite honestly, it was a nightmare.

There was nothing wrong with Fernando. For the time you had spent with him, he was rather sweet. But the media had painted him out as some sort of tyrant of McLaren, claiming that the F1 team belonged to him as opposed to being owned by Zak Brown. Then again, you supposed the Spaniard’s lack of care for listening didn’t help either.

When learning that Fernando was leaving, you could only hope that whoever you were assigned to next was less work than him.

In came Lando Norris, a young driver with ambition and humour, and lucky for you, little work.

Somehow he just knew the right things to say. And if he didn’t, he was always asking you beforehand.

Between the both of you there was only a two year age gap so of course it was easy to befriend each other. You were always talking about something to the other.

His passion for DJing, his childhood or your love for travelling and the gossip of certain celebrities. How you were absolutely certain JLo and Ben Affleck was a PR couple because who on earth had a nude portrait of themselves above their bed?

It wasn’t until almost a year ago where you realised you liked him more than just a friend. There was just something about the way you two communicated that left in trailed sighs, awkward laughs desperate to talk more and grins that got your hearts pacing.

Or perhaps it was the way you had poured your hearts out to one another. As happy as Lando looked, he was one under a lot of pressure which affected is mental health. You were there for all of this ups and downs. You were his number on speed dial for everything.

And when things got a little too much for you, Lando did his best to not only be there for you but to cheer you up. Stupid jokes, random flowers and, teddy bears.

How were you not supposed to like him?

Surprisingly, Lando had been the one to confess his feelings to you. Well, only after one of the engineers from Mercedes was openly trying to court you at an F1 dinner.

Lando had gotten so jealous that he had pulled you aside that evening and begged you to not think of anyone else but him. That you were only supposed to smile like that at him… with him.

At first, you were thrilled and kind of shocked that Lando felt the same way. But that happiness and smile he liked so much quickly faded when you thought about your job.

‘F1’s Lando Norris is dating his PR specialist’…

Yeah… the implications of that sounded terrible. You could imagine it already. What was Lando hiding to date his publicist? Is Lando that good of a person?

And while you and all the people knew the truth, those types of rumours would’ve undermined your job in the first place and honestly, you were sure that McLaren wouldn’t exactly be jumping with excitement that you two were dating.

So you mentioned this to Lando with the suggestion of being secret about your relationship for now.

You could literally see some of the shine in his eyes fade. He was gutted but he understood what you meant. He’d rather be with you secretly than not at all and without his best friend.

our secret moments in a crowded room

they've got no idea about me and you

there is an indentation in the shape of you

made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

Your relationship with him had been a roller coaster. Neither of you had been in a secret relationship and neither of you could deny how fun it was.

Take right now for example. Today was the McLaren’s car launch for the 2023 F1 season. The room was filled to the brim with all sorts of people: journalists, publicists, engineers, marketers, social media managers, the new driver next to Lando, Oscar.

Yet with all those people, Lando and you found it impossible to not find each other. You were constantly meeting each others eyes, especially when you were nearby for his interviews.

There was a thrill, you must admit, about no one knowing about the two of you.

A rush of adrenaline at the thought that no one knew nor expected you to be in Lando’s bedroom this very morning before the launch.

“Remember to be sort of vague about the car and, well, everything. I mean obviously but I don’t think Will’s going down without a fight,” you reminded your boyfriend with an annoyed sigh.

Will Buxton was not only a F1 journalist but a man who got under everyone’s skin. You couldn’t fathom why people liked him in the first place.

Lando, who was leaning on his elbow on his bed, gave a hum of response. He only had half of his mind present as he watched you get ready. “Surely, this can’t be fair,’ He asked.

You raised a brow at him through the mirror. “What?” You queried before putting on a necklace. Sorry, attempting to. You weren’t exactly sure why the clasps of necklaces were made so poorly.

Lando got up from the bed and walked up behind you. He grabbed the necklace from your hands with an amused expression before bringing it to your neck. With one hand, he pushed your hair to the side and joined the clasp to the metal ring. He rested his fingers on the back of your neck, slowly rubbing the area as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“I mean, you get to wear this,” Lando started. His hands ran over the satin silk material of your black dress. It was fairly casual, landing mid-thigh. Perfect enough for you to blend into the crowd. Although, it didn’t matter for Lando. He could always pick you from the crowd. Especially, if you were wearing this. “And I wear this? It doesn’t seem fair,” he whispered into your ear.

You let out a small laugh, eyeing his new uniform for the season. You turned to face him, rubbing your hands over his chest and pretending to dust it. “I think you look quite good, love.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. You felt his hand travel up your neck and to your lips. “When did you even buy this? It wasn’t even in your closet?”

Your heart started to pace when you caught that knowing glint in his eyes. His mended brows seemed to ease when you didn’t respond. Sometimes you didn’t need to open your mouth to say anything. Instead, you let your eyes talk.

A small grin came to his face. He turned you to face the mirror. His hands came alive, roaming your thigh and waist. “Just for me, huh?” Lando smiled.

“Lando,” you warned weakly. You had a feeling where this was going. Honestly, you weren’t opposed to it. But the both of you needed to clock in soon. “It’s supposed to come off after the launch.”

Lando pursed his lips, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck and meeting your gaze. “Oh, it supposed to come off too? Jesus, I don’t think I can’t wait that long.”

Lando could feel the perfume he has come to love so much infiltrate his nose. God, this dress and now the perfume. How on earth was he going to get out of here?

“Fuck,” He murmured out. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on your shoulder. He needed to get himself together. But the thing about your skin was that it was so inviting… so warm.

You felt his his arms wrap around your waist as you added some finishing touches to your look. Lando pouted at you through the mirror.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed, squishing his cheeks with your free hand.

“I don’t think I can leave this room. I can’t,” Lando groaned, starting a line of kisses on your neck.

“Lando…” You whimpered out pathetically, feeling your neck stretch out even more willingly. You could feel him close in on the one area near your ear.

“Fuck, Lando. Not there,” You swore but with no effort to stop him.

Lando’s greed seem to increase upon your exclaim. He furthered his attack on the spot, sucking enough of your intoxicating skin, not only to get his full but leave a fresh purple mark.

Now he was satisfied enough to leave the room.

You watched his lips leave your skin, almost leaving you to pour for a second before that dark spot on your skin caught your eyes.

You gasped. “You didn’t,” you said in disbelief, whacking your boyfriend.

Lando’s blues twinkled at you as he planted a cheeky kiss to your cheek. “I did.”

Now you were in a room of all these people. It was exhilarating for Lando to know that he had given you a tattoo of some sorts. To attend those interviews and know that behind your carefully placed hair, he had given you something no one else would ever… yeah, he was aching to leave.

It wasn’t any less for you. Even last night you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were walking around with the fact that you knew what was underneath the damn racing gear. The scratches and indentations of your hands on his skin caused by the will to bring Lando even closer to you.

all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

my hands are shaking from holding back from you… ha, ah, ah

all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

my hands are shaking from all this… ah, ha, ha, ha

Lando was looking at you probably more than one should look at their PR specialist to the point he was sure you could feel his eyes on you.

But he couldn't help. Every little thing you did in that dress had caught his attention.

Your pinky-red painted lips covering the champagne glass you held. Those lips he wanted for himself. On him. Everywhere. Now.

The occasional brush of your hands that sent shudders he had to surpress.

The lights of the venue practically spotlighting you so everyone could see how beautiful you looked. So Lando could see exactly how nicely the dress clung to everyone of those damning curves.

The polite smiles you offered every single person you met. A gesture that sent his heart racing.

The forced polite laughter and chuckles you gave to the people that flirted with you. A gesture that made him both proud and frustrated. Proud in that you were clearly faking it because he knew what your real smile and laugh was. Hell, he had the pleasure of making it everyday. And that people clearly found you as beautiful as he did. Frustrated because people were clearly into you and he could do nothing but watch in silence.

Lando couldn't blame them either. If he was them, he too would've stopped to impress. But he didn't need to. Not when you were his entirely and he yours.

The more he looked at you the more his hands shook and his patience wore thin. His hands ached for this day to end, for him to take you to his room, and remove that goddamn dress.

He could imagine what his former teammates Carlos and Daniel say. Something along the lines of "stop staring at her like you want to eat her".

Which, in all honestly, wasn't true.

Lando didn't want to eat you. He wanted to devour you. Slowly and gently. He wanted to appreciate you... all of you. So much that only his name was falling from those beautiful lips of yours.

say my name and everything just stops

i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

carve your name into my bedpost

'cause i don't want you like a best friend

only bought this dress so you could take it off

take it oh, ha, ha, ha-ah

Lando couldn't imagine the poor luck he had. The event was finally over and he was home. Without you.

You had become slightly tied with some last minute discussions with the reporters and journalists, even your dear favourite Will.

Which meant for the past hour, Lando had nothing but his thoughts. Thoughts that consisted only of you, that dress, and what he was going to do with you.

What was he supposed to do?

Unbothered to put on a new change of clothes, Lando was in bed only in his boxers which had a very obvious bulge.

Lando let out a sigh, his hand brushing over his clothed cock. "Fuck," he muttered out through a clenched jaw. If it was any other day, he would've lost all self-control and jerked off to his thoughts of you. But you were going to be home soon and he desperately wanted to feel you.

"Lando? Honey, I'm home!" Your voice echoed through his house, teasing him.

Lando whipped his head up, feeling all his thoughts and emotions briefly stop as he darted towards the entrance.

You were taking of your heels when you saw Lando stand in all his glory almost naked. You couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Oh my... I thought we discussed you not walking around the house naked, Lando."

Lando said nothing. Instead, he took a step towards, eyes searching your face and arms encircling your body closer to him.

The hairs on your body stood straight while goosebumps started to sprawl across your skin. Lando's thumb brushed across your bottom lip. "You were later than expected," He said in a tone that almost neared a whine.

You let out a sigh, kissing the tip of his thumb. "I know. I'm sorry, baby."

Lando grinned. "It's okay," He quipped before scooping you up in his arms.

You let out a yelp before smiling as Lando ventured to your bedroom. You could soon feel the soft sheets of your bed touch your skin while Lando hovered over you.

"You have to tell me what the deal with this dress is, love," Lando whispered. His finger slid under the strap of your dress before trailing all the way down to your bare breast.

You opened your mouth to answer but not even a hint of a sound came out as Lando's finger circled your nipple gently. You met his eager blue eyes, waiting for answer.

"I only bought this dress so you can take it off. Simple as that."

Lando let out a low exhale, feeling his cock harden even further. God, were you even real?

"Yeah?" He hummed, pushing the straps of your dress down your arms. He pushed his face down lower, wrapping his lips around your nipple as he continued to pull your dress down your body.

Your back arched on the bed, pushing yourself into his mouth even further. Without a word, you lifted your hips up and Lando had fully taken the dress off.

His other hand reached your other nipple, paying it an equal amount of attention. He rolled the pebbled mound between his thumb and index finger, giving it a slight squeeze.

You let out a small whimper. Your hand navigating through his short curls. You could feel your core tighten and your pussy become slick with your arousal.

Lando unlatched his lips from your breasts, using both hands to gently thumb your nipples. "Tell me want you want, love. I want to hear it from these pretty lips."

God... you couldn't even decide. "I don't know. I want your lips. Your fingers. Fuck, I want it all."

Lando couldn't help but grin as a he felt a surge of energy rush through. "I can do it all," He chuckled before bringing his lips to yours. His tongue darted between your lips and into your mouth. His hands trailed up and down your waist while a muffled moan came out of his mouth.

You kissed him back with the same intensity of fervor, bringing your hands around his neck, willing him closer to you.

Lando could tell by the slight squirm of your legs, you were getting impatient down there. Slowly, he trailed down your waist and reached your panties. His own lips quirked at the damp material. Pressing his fingers into your core, he could feel a shudder overcome you.

Lando continued his assault on your lips as he rubbed you through your panties.

You removed your lips in a gasp for air. "Don't tease, Lando," You moaned out, clenching your thighs so it trapped his hand to your pussy.

Lando chuckled. He used his free hand to brush over your swollen lips. God, he wanted those lips around his cock. Maybe tomorrow morning. Or maybe in the shower tonight. Right now, he wanted to focus on you. "Say please. A good girl should always use her manners, no?"

This good girl thing had always infuriated you. It felt childish. But then it paled in comparison to the tingling and blossoming sensation of Lando's fingers rubbing your clit.

But of course, if you were going to be a good girl, you were always going for extra credit.

"Please, Lando. Fuck. I need your fingers. Please. I love the way they fill me up. The way they feel in me. Please."

Lando wanted to grin. But all he could do was groan in response. How could he not reward his dear overachiever?

His fingers pulled down your panties, snatching down the damp material past your legs. A guttural sound of pure sin fell from his mouth as he saw your pussy. It glistened in front of him, almost as if it was flooded. Sliding his fingers down those soaked folds, he watched you writhe under him and whimper.

Lando kept his eyes on you as he pushed two fingers into you slowly. He could feel your core envelope him and welcome him graciously. He watched your back arch once he began thrusting into a pace, feeling your walls clench around his fingers.

"Shit," you moaned, reaching for your breasts to both add even more pleasure and bring some sort of sanity. "Faster, baby. Please."

Lando sped up the pace of his fingers, bringing his thumb to rub your clit. His eyes flickered to your pussy. He licked his lips. You were swollen and engorged. Your puffy lips continuously took him in and it was almost paining his cock that he wasn't inside you yet.

A new intense wave of euphoria settled over you. Your body convulsed with a buzz that provided the almost silent moans from your mouth. "Fuck.... I... I'm gonna come," You moaned out, head falling back as your mind became clouded with pleasure.

Lando's cock throbbed from not being touched. He could do it no longer.

The whine you released when Lando took his fingers out of you almost made him want to put them back in. But instead, with a speed he had never even found in his car, he took off his boxers and hovered over your body.

"I know. I know," Lando murmured, pressing his lips into yours to silence your begging plea.

You placed your own fingers in your mouth, drenching them in your saliva. Removing them, your hand travelled down his waist, brushing past his v-line before circling your hand around his cock. You could feel Lando moan into the kiss, briefly stilling at your touch.

Slowly you rubbed him up and down, dangerously thumbing the slit of his cock. You watched as your saliva lubed him, giving him a unique shine. Your shine.

"Jesus fucking christ," Lando moaned out. He was sure if you kept up like this, he was going to cum in your hands rather than inside you.

"Fuck, as much I love your hands and touch. I need to be in you, baby," Lando sighed, removing your hand from his cock and slowly pressing into your body to slide his cock up and down your pussy.

You moaned at his words, feeling his lips wrap around your nipple once again.

"Stop teasing," You panted. The buzz created by the tip of his cock rubbing your clit was almost paining and torturous.

Lando didn't even mean to tease. But even just feeling your pussy felt like a different type of high. He groaned, pushing the tip of his cock into your swollen lips. A rush of warmth surged through him as he laid in you for a brief moment.

Your pussy was a safe haven. A cocoon made for his cock. This high... this pleasure... he could feel it with no one than you.

You sobbed in ecstasy. Lando was almost bring cruel. You raised your hips, fucking yourself onto your cock.

Lando had to keep himself above you, almost collapsing at your action. He let out a small laugh at your impatience before he started to move in you.

As he thrusted into you, you could feel his cock glide through your folds, reaching those familiar areas of arousal. You clenched your walls around him teasingly, silently urging him to speed.

"Fucking hell," Lando hissed out, speeding up the movement of your hips.

Sweat and arousal doused the both of you as the room was full of your pants and the obscene sound of your skin slapping.

"I'm gonna cum soon, baby," Lando said once you clenched around him once again. This clenching action always drove him overboard. It pulled him in even further into you and pressured his cock to pulse inside of you.

"It's okay. Cum with me," You moaned, bringing him into a sloppy kiss.

Your muffled moans became impossibly higher as Lando rutted into you at a merciless speed. The wave of pleasure and euphoria that had sprawled across the both of you was inexplicable. A transient unearthly state of mind. A paradox of what was holy and unholy.

Your hands had found their way to Lando's back. Your fingernails dug lightly into the smooth skin of his back. You dragged them down as your hips bucked higher in the chase of the climax.

"Fuck! Lando!" You cursed.

Lando could feel his cock twitch and throb inside you. The nails. His name. Your lips. It was any second now. "Fuck. Say my name, Y/N!"

'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless. 'When your eyes had started to roll, you blinked focusing on the most beautiful boy in front of you. God he was a sight to behold. Blue eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen and puffy... albeit sweaty, but handsome nonetheless.

"Lando!" You moaned, "I love you so much, Lando! Fuck!"

Your loud groans disturbed the quiet peace of the air as Lando and you felt the wave of euphoria hit you hard, his hips stilled within you. His body shook, warming your walls and folds with an influx of white.

Lando let out a soft moan, chin falling into your shoulder while both your sweaty bodies pressed together. You could still feel Lando's cock within you, giving every last dribble of cum to you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you.," Lando's hoarse voiced mantra made it's way into your ear. He planted a lazy kiss onto your shoulder before turning his body to face the ceiling. "Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N."

You turned on the side of your body, leaning on your hand. Your eyes were weighed with exhaustion but nevertheless you smiled at him. "I guess I should buy more dresses often," You joked.

You could feel Lando's body rumble with a gentle chuckle. His hand reached to move your sweat-ridden hair behind your ears. His blue eyes trailed over your face, in awe of how he had gotten this lucky in his life. The woman he loved so much was right next to him and he hoped forever.

Lando smiled at you, bringing your fingers to kiss them. He briefly thought backed to the small box he had managed to hide away in his closet. Three podiums. He was going to get three podiums and make sure that ring adorned your finger.

"Love, I'll buy all the dresses you want. And I'll take them off for you too."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[sunshinehaze1]

Unwrapped

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (f. Marcus Acacius & Lucilla Aurelius)

Summary: You attend your friend Lucilla's annual holiday party and meet someone new.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. Modern AU, no outbreak or battles in the colosseum, meet-cute, fingering, unprotected PiV (do better), creampie, no use of y/n

a/n: This is my Secret Santa gift for my beautiful friend @ak-vintage. Her Pedro faves are Joel, Marcus A., and Din. I hope you like it, Ash! ❤️ and that you'll forgive me for not elaborating further on the party bathroom smut 🤭 tysm to @80ssong for the beta! 🥰 and big time thanks to @pr3ttynpiink for organizing! ❤️

word count: 4,386

ao3 | ml

As you walk up the driveway, you admire the lights trailing along the edges of Marcus and Lucilla's house. They live in a large, luxurious home decked in over-the-top opulence. Roman columns frame the front porch, wrapped in garland and accented with gold bows and lighting. Glittery white lights perfectly line the edges of the house, and more are draped meticulously over the immaculately trimmed shrubs. Their house practically lights up the whole neighborhood. It's hard to imagine their electric bill; you're thankful you don't have to pay it.

You met Lucilla earlier this year while volunteering at the local food bank. You decided to volunteer to meet people after moving to the area recently. Lucilla comes from money; her father was the CEO of a local business, and she inherited a large amount of money when he passed. So she has plenty of free time to give back to those in the community who are less fortunate.

After one of your volunteer shifts, Lucilla invited you for coffee. You found her to be surprisingly down to earth. It's not typical of your experience with people who come from money and have had things handed to them. She's very grounded and wise. You quickly became friends, and she's like the big sister you never had. She has at least a decade on you, and you've often turned to her for advice as you assimilate to Austin. It's comforting to have a support system in the area.

You've been invited to her beautiful home for dinners numerous times and met her handsome husband, Marcus. He's around Lucilla's age with soft, greying curls, always perfectly coifed. His face is framed with Romanesque features and a prominent nose. Having retired a couple of years ago as a general in the Army, he still maintains a thick, sturdy physique that offers an intimidating presence. He's anything but. You've only seen him as soft, gentle, and welcoming. You've spent enough time with them that you've been able to observe their relationship quietly, and it's nothing short of "relationship goals." You hope to find a loving relationship like theirs for yourself one day.

They throw these holiday parties every year, and this is your first time attending. You're bound to have a great time based on what you've heard about past years' parties. And you look forward to meeting new people. Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone.

Lucilla and Marcus go all out. The outdoor decorations were only a precursor to what awaits you inside. It looks like a Christmas store blew up. Garland is wrapped around the staircase banister and the fireplace mantle with perfectly placed ornaments. Every door frame is adorned with mistletoe dangling over the threshold, waiting for unsuspecting guests to pass through. Santas and snowmen of varying sizes sit on tables and shelves. Silvery snowflakes decorate the walls, and you spot not one but three different Christmas trees. Each has its own theme.

The expansive kitchen island has a beautiful spread of charcuterie, wines, and liquors and a punch bowl of spiked egg nog; holiday songs, clinking glasses, and the smell of mulled cider waft through the air.

--

Joel is a good sport. He's not a fan of large gatherings. He'd much rather hang out in the backyard with a beer, catching up with his brother. Or when Sarah was still at home, a night on the couch watching a movie. Nights that would end with Sarah falling asleep halfway through the movie and Joel carrying her upstairs to bed. With his reserved nature, he tends to be a wallflower at parties and a quiet observer. This one, which his employee, Marcus, invited him to, is no different.

He's found himself in a corner, making small talk with another partygoer who, unfortunately, found out what Joel does and has since been bending his ear about house renovations. Joel spots you as you walk through the door, ignoring the man in front of him, who continues to prattle on how he can't decide which faucet to place in his half bath.

Joel finds himself gawking at you. You're a vision in your eggplant velvet wrap dress with a satin sash tied into a bow on the side of your waist. The dress hugs every curve of your body, with a skirt that falls to your mid-thigh, providing Joel a view of your shapely legs. The dress's neckline cuts into a deep v, hinting at what's underneath. You're a fucking knockout.

He observes as you juggle a wrapped gift box for the white elephant exchange and a hostess gift in your other hand. It's a lavender-scented candle. You've noticed Lucilla wears the scent often. You greet Lucilla with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Offering her a wide, glowing smile. Oh god, you're beautiful. Joel is shaken from his enamored haze when the sound of broken glass interrupts his thoughts. He must find a way to talk to you before he leaves tonight.

--

Over the last hour or so, you've had a chance to meet everyone at the party—neighbors, family friends, Marcus's old Army buddies, and their spouses. All of them were very nice, but the small talk was exhausting, so you're thankful when you hear Lucilla quiet the guests with a shout, "ALRIGHT EVERYONE TO THE LIVING ROOM! It's time for the gift exchange."

You enter the living room and look for a place to sit. Various chairs are lined up around the couches, almost all already taken. You decide to remain standing rather than scramble to find an open seat.

While Lucilla explains the rules, a basket with small pieces of folded-up paper is passed around the room, with numbers 1-30 written on each. You select yours and pass it to the man beside you; rough fingers graze your hand as you complete the handoff. He thanks you, and you turn to get a better look at the owner of the deep, gravelly voice.

You're struck by how ruggedly handsome he is. A sharp nose, plush lips, and patchy facial hair sprinkled with greys. He's wearing a crisp light blue button-up and dark jeans that hug him just right. It seems you haven't met everyone at the party yet. How did he escape your notice?

He catches you staring, "What number did ya get?"

"Um…" you look down at your paper, "29. How about you?"

"Looks like I got lucky tonight," he turns his piece of paper around to show you, "30." He winks.

Uh oh. He's handsome and charming. You're in trouble.

"Name's Joel. How do you know Marcus and Lucilla?"

You introduce yourself and tell him about your volunteer work and how you met Lucilla. "And you?"

"Marcus works for me." Your surprised reaction amuses him, and he continues. "After he retired, he was looking for part-time work to keep himself busy. I own a contracting business."

That explains his rugged appearance and calloused hands. You take in his broad shoulders and biceps, which cause the seams of his shirt to work overtime to stay together. Lucilla interrupts your thoughts, "OK, now that everyone has their number, we'll go ahead and get started!"

A woman named Simone starts things off. After selecting a gift from under the tree, she tears the wrapping paper to reveal a cat-shaped ice cube tray. The crowd erupts in laughter when she shows it around the room. It's not a very appealing gift, which likely means she'll be stuck with it. You doubt anyone will want to "steal" it from her, but at least it has practical use. 

The game continues with half the participants taking their turn. Lucilla's son, Lucius, is next. You met him briefly when Lucilla introduced you earlier. He's in town to spend the holidays with his mother. After over a decade apart, he reconnected with Lucilla a few years ago. The relationship is still in repair but moving in the right direction. You know how important it is to Lucilla to have him here.

You haven't gotten the full story from Lucilla, but you know it's a sensitive subject for her, so you've never pressed too hard. You've left the door open for her to share if and when she's ready. He and Marcus seem to have an agreeable relationship and get along fine, which you're happy to see. Stepparent and stepchild relationships can be pretty fraught. He's a handsome kid who resembles Lucilla, but you think he inherited most of his looks from his father.

Lucius takes his turn and decides to steal a gift that was already stolen, securing it himself. The game continues as the room works through the numbers. A steady din of laughter echoes through the room as the exchange becomes more cutthroat. It's all in good fun, though.

Finally, it's your turn. You walk over to the tree where two gifts remain. One is a box covered in teal wrapping paper with a gold diamond pattern and embellished with a twine ribbon. The other one is a tall, slender gift bag that is the perfect size to hold a bottle of wine. You choose the box and return to your spot next to Joel.

All eyes in the room are now on you as you unwrap the gift. Pulling the paper away, you squeal when you see it's a Funko Pop figure. You try to remain calm when you remove the rest of the paper and recognize it is The Mandalorian and Grogu.

This is a score, and you can't believe your luck. You love Star Wars, especially The Mandalorian. And it's not just because you have a crush on the actor who plays him. You love the storytelling and the world-building. This isn't something you'd buy for yourself, but you'll proudly display it in your home. With Joel as the last person left, you hope your brief interaction with him has earned you enough favor that he won't steal your gift.

However, you don't know that Joel and his daughter watch The Mandalorian over Facetime every Sunday night. It's a way for them to stay connected now that she's miles away. They're on their third rewatch, and he treasures these nights with his daughter. He eyes the Funko Pop in your hand and thinks Sarah would get a kick out of this cute figure. Even if he has no clue what a Funko is.

Joel hems and haws, trying to decide if he should go for the last gift under the tree, which he suspects is a bottle of wine. He wouldn't have much use for it as he's more of a beer guy. Or steal your gift and potentially derail any opportunity he may have had to get to know you better. After a few moments of quiet deliberation, he opts to steal.

You huff in defeat, bummed that you lost out on your gift, and hand the box over to Joel. You know it's all in good fun, and Joel had no malicious intent behind his decision. You retrieve the last gift from under the tree, confirming your suspicion of what was inside.

After the gift exchange is complete, the guests disperse throughout the house. You're looking over the wine's label when you feel an elbow nudge your bicep. Your attention turns to Joel, who has a sheepish look. "Sorry for that. My daughter and I love The Mandalorian. We watch it together every Sunday night while she's away at school," he sighs.

Now, how can you be upset about that? Of course, he had a heartwarming reason behind his decision to steal. "Oh, it's no big deal. I'm just happy he's going to a good home."

Joel chuckles. "Would you like a drink?"

You nod and follow him into the kitchen.

--

With your cup of eggnog, you settle at a threshold out of the way of party traffic. He tells you more about the contracting business he owns with his younger brother. You share more about yourself and how you moved to Austin for a job opportunity. He's incredibly handsome, and you get lost in his brown eyes. His quiet confidence and sense of humor are extremely sexy.

Joel recounts a time when his brother screwed up an order for a job. He ordered the incorrect size of lumber and set the project back a week. Joel took over placing orders after that. He shares his hunch that his brother purposefully messed up the order, so he no longer has to do it.

His retelling is endearing. Through it, you get a good sense of his love for his brother, but as with most sibling relationships, some things drive him crazy. You can relate.

A silence falls between you two for the first time since you began talking. You're not even sure how much time has passed. However, it's been long enough to cause a crick in your neck since you've had to look up at Joel this whole time. You tilt your head, rolling it back and forth to stretch it out. When you open your eyes, you're frozen as you realize where you and Joel have been standing. Your chest begins to warm at the implication of where this could lead.

Joel follows your gaze to see what's caught your attention. He gulps when he spots the leafy instigator. His palms sweat as he straightens, and you make eye contact.

The warmth in your chest has moved up your neck as Joel's eyes lock with yours. The swirl of the party moves around you two, and you feel frozen in time. At this moment, it is just you and Joel. A soft smile appears on his face. "Welp. Do you know what this means?"

You swallow, take a deep breath, and offer an inviting smile. "It can only mean one thing."

Joel leans in. You feel his hot breath as his face nears yours. This sweet, funny, handsome man is about to kiss you, and you remind yourself to breathe. His index finger lifts your chin toward him, his lips brushing over yours. It feels like hours have ticked by at this standstill when only seconds have passed. But your patience still wears thin, "Well…what are you waiting for?"

Joel laughs and finally closes the distance. His lips capture yours in a chaste kiss, aware you are not alone. You press your lips to his and let out a soft moan. The sparks you've only read about in novels start to fly, butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you see fireworks shooting off behind your eyelids. You keep them shut out of fear that you'll wake up from a dream if you don't.

You blink back as you pull yourself away from Joel. Knocked on your ass over a kiss. If his kiss can feel like that, you can only imagine what more would feel like. And you would love to find out.

Wide-eyed, you coo, "That was a really good kiss."

Joel nods, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"Me either," you giggle, feeling bold, "and maybe more?"

Joel quickly grabs your hand, determination in his eyes, "Follow me."

--

There's no shortage of privacy in a house of this size. The large amount of guests allows you and Joel to sneak off unnoticed. With your hand in his, he pulls you behind him in search of a more conspicuous location. At the end of the hall, you spot an open door that leads to a beautifully appointed bathroom: marble countertops, travertine tile, and a glass-enclosed shower with a waterfall showerhead. Large mirrors with an intricately designed gold frame sit over each sink. This is just the guest bathroom?!

He whips you around to face him and pulls you in for a kiss, not chaste this time. This kiss is brimming with passion. A mix of tongues dancing around, exploring each other's mouths. Playful nibbles leave their marks on each other's lips.

Your palms flatten against his firm chest, and you grip the lapels of his shirt and yank it open. The top buttons fly across the counter's surface and bounce every which way—ping, ping, ting—until they land flat on the surface. Hiding your giggle behind your hand, you look up at Joel apologetically. "Hey! I liked this shirt!" he bemused.

You walk your fingers up his now bare sternum and pinch his chin mischievously. "Oops, my bad!"

"Oh, you're fucking trouble, aren't you?!"

"Only one way to find out," you tease.

"Oh, honey, you bet your sweet ass I will." His hands caress your waist and hips, enjoying the feel of the velvet over your soft curves. "But first, I want you to see how gorgeous you are." He kisses you before he turns you to face the mirror.

Joel stands tall behind you. His hands roam along your body when he captures your gaze. With pleading eyes, he asks, "Can I unwrap my gift now?"

You nod. He pulls down the neckline of your dress and frees your tits from the cups of your bra. You let out a small gasp. He looks at you in the mirror while he kneads them, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index finger. He nuzzles into your neck and ascends with featherlight kisses to your earlobe, and whispers, "You're so fucking gorgeous."

With a gentle squeeze of your breasts, "gorgeous tits." His husky voice sends a shiver down your spine.

One of his hands moves down your body. His fingertips trail up the back of your bare thigh and underneath your skirt to your ass. A sly grin appears on his face when he doesn't feel any fabric impeding his exploration. You decided to wear a thong tonight to avoid panty lines with the way the fabric of the dress clings to your figure. With a firm squeeze of your bare cheek, "gorgeous ass."

You whimper at his attention and praise, overwhelmed by his adoration of your body. Both hands make their way to your neck, and he turns your face toward him, "gorgeous lips," and he devours you in a toe-curling kiss.

He hisses when your ass backs into him in response. His hardened cock straining the front of his jeans. You suck in your breath, apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

He chuckles, "It's ok, baby." He brushes his lips over your nose and tilts back with a glint in his eye, "You can make it up to me."

You quirk your eyebrow, "oh yeah, how so?"

He doesn't answer you. Silently, he grips your hips to turn you back to face the mirror. He grabs your hands and places your palms flat on the cool marble. He watches your tits bounce in the mirror and feels his cock get impossibly harder. "Stay. Just like this."

You feel the arousal pool in your belly at his command. His hands travel down the sides of your thighs and up under the skirt of your dress. His fingers slip under the elastic band of your thong, and you hear the lace fabric rip.

He slides a calloused finger through your slick lips. A growl escapes him as he feels how wet you are. "This pussy's just drenched for me, isn't she?"

You whimper out a strangled "yes." Overwhelmed by the feel of his thick fingers through your folds, teasing your entrance and brushing against your clit.

Finally, he shows mercy and slides a finger inside you. You clench around his thick digit as he enters you to his last knuckle, his fingertip reaching that spongy spot just right, sending an intense wave of pleasure through your body.

He leans forward, his whole chest pressed against your back. The heat from his body envelopes you. His husky voice vibrates in your ear, "Fucking dripping."

You groan when Joel pulls his finger out to taste you. "Such a sweet fucking pussy. I can't wait to make a whole meal out of her."

He breaches you again with two fingers, and you buck forward at the pleasurable stretch. He begins to thumb against your clit while his two fingers thrust inside you at a steady pace.

"Fuck. I can't wait to get you out of here. I want to take my time with you. The things I want to do."

"Tell…" breathless, "…me."

"I want to eat your pussy until your legs shake." he continues his exploration of your cunt. "Suck on your perfect tits. Fold you in half while I fuck into you until you scream my name."

"Yes, fuck…Joel, I want all of that." Your imagination is running wild at his ideas, the tension is building, and you're ready to snap.

"You'll get it, but I need you to come for me, darlin'." Desperation in his voice, "My cock needs to be inside this perfect pussy."

His words were all you needed to push you over the edge. You brace yourself on the counter as your orgasm moves through you, your walls fluttering around his fingers.

As you come down from your high, Joel quickly unfastens his jeans and lowers them along with his boxer briefs, releasing his throbbing cock. You feel his length bop against your ass. His fingers run through your pussy to coat his dick with your arousal. He lazily strokes his dick while bunching up the skirt of your dress over your waist with his other hand.

His palm runs over your bare ass cheek and slowly navigates your curves to your other cheek. You whimper when he pulls his palm away, already missing the warmth of his skin against yours. The unexpected strike of his palm causes you to jolt forward with a whine.

"Fuck! This is a juicy ass," he growls as his fingers dig into your flesh.

"Do it again. Harder." you pant.

You catch his devilish grin in the mirror as he lifts his arm with a flattened palm. The din of the party muffles the sound of it moving through the air before it lands on your other cheek. Harder. Just like you asked. You feel another wave of arousal rush through you.

"Oh, baby. We're going to have so much fun."

Joel takes his cock and runs the tip through your folds, You haven't seen it, but you can feel it's big as he teases your entrance with just the tip. Your mouth begins to water as you fantasize about taking him between your lips, the heavy weight of it on your tongue as you take him down your throat.

You're so distracted by the thought of choking on his dick that you yelp in surprise when his cock enters you with a forceful thrust; his pelvis slams into your luscious cheeks.

"Oh, she's fucking…" Joel pants, "she's fucking, tight."

He begins a steady pace of fucking you. His hands gripping your hips, fingertips digging in with a bruising force.

He reaches around your waist to rub your clit while he continues a relentless pace. Your walls clenching around him. Breaths increase, and your chest is slick with sweat. His thrusts push you into the counter, driving into you while he rubs your clit. The marble cooling your heated chest. "C'mon, baby. I feel you squeezing me. Let go for me."

You wail out his name as your climax takes hold. He pulls you up against his chest, his hand cupping your breast as he fucks you through your orgasm. Hot breath against your ear as he seeks his release. You wrap your hand around his neck and pull his head toward you. Your lips brush against his ear, and with a whisper, eyes fixed on him in the mirror so you can see his reaction, "Fill me up. I want to feel you dripping out of me."

Joel whimpers. He fucking, whimpers. He's at the precipice of his orgasm and grasps onto your tit tighter. You squeak at the pressure. One. Two. Three more thrusts before he spills into you, drenching your pussy with his seed.

His forehead collapses onto the back of your shoulder; his labored breathing begins to even out. When he looks up, your eyes meet his in the mirror. You both are completely fucked out. Half dressed, tits hanging out, disheveled hair, smeared lipstick. He leans back to get a good look at his spend leaking from your pussy. A boyish grin expands on his face into a toothy smile as he pushes his cum back inside with his finger. "Gotta keep my gift wrapped up."

You roll your eyes and laugh.

Joel grabs a clean washcloth from the towel bar and runs it under warm water. He gently runs the damp cloth over your inner thighs and sensitive folds, cleaning himself before tossing the washcloth in the hamper.

You notice it's after midnight, and you'll need to get home soon—even though you don't want the night to end. You both scramble to dress. Joel stops short when he realizes he can't button his shirt back up all the way. He looks around to find the loose buttons on the counter and pockets them. Softly, you brush his forearm and coo, "I can sew those back on for you."

He winks and kisses the tip of your nose. "Worth it."

--

You accept Joel's offer to walk you to your car, but not before you say your goodbyes. The two of you part to find Lucilla and Marcus to thank them for the party.

When you find Joel again, he guides you toward the door, holding his gift in one hand and the other against the small of your back. He leans toward your ear and teases, "We'll need to discuss visitation arrangements." shaking the figurine in the air.

You playfully swat his chest at his teasing.

You and Joel are unaware that Marcus and Lucilla are watching this exchange from afar. Lucilla turns to Marcus and wonders, "Now, why didn't we think to set those two up? They're perfect together."

"It doesn't look like they needed our help anyway." Marcus wraps his arm around his wife and kisses her temple. "Another successful holiday party, my lady."

Lucilla rests her head on his shoulder and lets out an exhausted but contented sigh. "Until next year, my love."

--

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

I've got an idea brewing to revisit these two (four)...if I get a wild hair, I may take a swing at it. 😏

npt for folks who were interested in this WIP: @baronessvonglitter @kilamonster @half-moon16 @peepawispunk

[sleepyangelkami]

Okay but imagine - Tommy and Maria have a daughter (reader obvs) and is shy and quiet while ellie is all outgoing n stuff eeeek they would make such a good couple

CRYBABY e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 7.6K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - reader is tommy and maria's daughter and while she had always been on the shyer side, she can't help but fall into a loop upon becoming best friends with the ellie williams. and how on earth is she going to come to terms with the sudden feelings bubbling insider her when she finds ellie has begun to pay more attention to her 'fling' cat.

☆ warnings - mushy fluff, angry love confession, kissing, loser lesbians?, stupid grumpy x sunshine trope (my absolute fave), reader is kinda innocent, slight suggestive themes, angst if you squint, mentions of cat, reader is mentioned to be shorter than ellie, tinsy bit of tommy and maria slander? mentions of bullying, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proof read 🩷

the princess of jackson. ellie williams could remember the day when she very first met her, the prized possession, the adored and loved. you.

of course, you were both only fourteen then. ellie williams stood with a small scowl on her face, standing parted from joel as he had a heated conversation with tommy, your father. she hadn't even noticed you, too caught up in her own feelings. she needed to get to the fireflies and quickly, she had no time to 'dilly dally' while waiting for tommy miller, she had decided he was nothing but a cowered, unwilling to help.

she only met the man, so naturally such an opinion hadn't stuck with her. but then, oh how she hated his stupid face. rolling her eyes over something stupid he had said, she turned her eyes to his wife, who was standing off near her, though completely engrossed in the conversation between the two older men. And then, her eyes landed on a pretty girl, standing in a woollen jumper that hung from her frame, covering her hands whole. you.

it was that moment, ellie realised, that she had fallen completely head over heels for y/n miller. she didn't know you then, you were just a child and a shy one at that. you stood practically clinging to your mother, hands fiddling with one another as you listened to your father raise his voice, nothing new, it was apparent that tommy miller had anger issues at times.

she merely stared, too embarrassed to so much as part her lips fully, simply turning her nose up. it wasn't until you turned your head that you noticed her impending stare. instantly, your face heated up like a match lit on fire. eyes widening slightly, you whipped your head back around, ignoring the way your hair now covered your face from her view but she could still... sense it, the way your face had turned beat red. if it were anyone else, she would have chuckled, threw her head back and laughed at whoever was embarrassed to make mere eye contact amiss an apocalypse. but she didn't laugh, didn't even smile. instead, her face softened into an expression you were still yet to decipher.

it didn't take long for you and ellie to meet again.

you didn't talk to her before she left, didn't even bid her a hello or a goodbye. she simply stared as you all but cowered behind your mother. your mother introduced you, however, knowing you weren't going to do it yourself. "this is y/n, y/n this is ellie." and you simply nodded as ellie wore a small smile, growing more impatient to leave the town as the seconds scraped by.

and you thought you had gotten away, weaved your way out of making a new friend, you always did hate it when maria pushed you. you were adored in jackson by all the elders, all the adults and yet if there was one thing you couldn't do, it was talk to people your age. let alone a pretty girl like ellie williams.

but when the girl reappeared soon after, your parents were just over the moon about a girl your age living so close, having such a close connection with your family as your uncle practically took her in. you could remember the first day you were told to talk to the girl, you remembered hating every single second of it.

you had to walk all the way from the main hall to her house, and for some reason the fourteen year old girl was given her own house, you weren't sure of, maybe a bad call by your father. nonetheless, you didn't think much of it, too focused on the angry mumbles tumbling from your lips as you puffed your cheeks out, reddened with the cold. you had to return a jacket, a jacket for god sake. you hadn't felt like it when tommy pulled you aside, shoving a green jacket in your hands and telling you to return it to the girl, stating she'd need it in the morning. you simply cringed, stating that your uncle could return it when he was passing home but of course, your parents would never give up a chance for you to communicate with teenagers your age, and so, they shoved you out the main hall door.

you cursed every star and constellation that she had managed to leave it behind. looking back, you weren't even sure why she had been in the hall in the first place. she did so many jobs for the town it was difficult for you to keep track. you almost grew envious of how everyone had come to adore the girl. it wasn't as if they had adored you any less, you simply envied the way she could keep the conversation flowing with the people of jackson, how she stood up tall and didn't have to glance down at her fingers every five seconds, attempting to come up with some form of a response. unlike you, that is.

puffing out another breath, you ignored the white smoke in front of you, painting an image that you had been smoking. it was almost humorous, the thought, y/n miller would have gone near no such thing. you brought a balled fist up, knocking on the door gently. almost instantly, you retracted it back to your side, chomping down on your bottom lip. you didn't know why you were so embarrassed but you could feel your face getting hot already and for the love of god it was the middle of winter in jackson.

you mentally cringed when no one answered the door, knowing you'd have to knock again. what if she had heard it and chose to neglect it? what if you came off much too annoying? what if she opened the door in the middle of knocking? what if she was in the bathroom? your thoughts were cut short by your own actions, knocking on the door once more only this time, not as softly. and when you received no answer this time, the door slowly creaked open.

eyes widening, you turned to look around as if casper the ghost would appear at any given moment. you slowly pushed the door open further, who leaves their front door unlocked in the middle of the night? you made a mental note to remind ellie to lock her doors, you know, if you ever actually gained the confidence to speak to her. swallowing harshly, you peeked your head in from the front door. "ellie?" your voice slightly raspy. "uhm, ellie!" attempting to project your voice just a little louder this time, of course failing in your attempts.

then your eyes caught it. her.

she was sitting at her desk, pen in hand and bushed brown ponytail sitting on her back. you took note of the earphones plugged into her ears. of course she hadn't heard you, you could practically hear her music blaring from where you stood all the way at her door. you had been near ellie at least a thousand times by now, she was always creeping close, her eyes always strained towards your face. you always pretended not to notice the way her eyes would stay fixated on you, the way you completely ignored her presence every single time. not on purpose, obviously, but you knew the minute you were pushed into her bubble, you'd find some way to absolutely humiliate yourself, you swore yourself against that, embarrassing yourself in front of ellie williams. and yet here you stood, awkwardly holding her jacket in your hands as you slowly entered the room. her house wasn't massive but it was very homely. shutting the door with your back facing it, you called out her name again in hopes of her somehow hearing you despite the loud music plugged into her ears.

you bit down on your bottom lip, moving closer to her. you reached your hand out, wincing knowing you were going to scare the girl however you truly did have no other choice. you softly patted her shoulder causing her to completely whip around.

you flinched as her book went tumbling to the ground, a yelp falling from her own lips as you took a step back, eyes screwed shut momentarily.

"y/n, jesus christ!" pressing a hand to her chest as she ripped the earphones out from her ears, heart thumping quickly.

despite no one scaring you, your own heart was thumping swiftly against your chest. "sorry, sorry!" instantly feeling guilt washing over you.

"you're okay." the girl chuckled, pushing the ear buds onto the table. "just scared me is all." puffing out a breath to show she was merely breathless from the scare.

"sorry, i didn't mean to." instantly falling to your knees to pick up the book that had fallen off the table. "your door was open and you had earphones on — i called your name but you didn't hear me- did you draw these?" suddenly, your breath caught in your throat, rambling being cut off as you peered down at the sketchbook in your hands, filled with mystical drawings. there was a dragon splayed across two pages along with gargoyles hiding at the corner of the pages, many other creatures you didn't even know the name to on the pages.

"uh- yeah." sitting back in her seat. her eyes were glued to yours, watching your face as your own eyes scanned across the page, face shifted into complete awe at her amazing art work. you stayed silent, eyes blown wide in complete shock. how could someone so young be so... talented?

raking your eyes over the drawing of the dragon once more, you tried to ignore how well the creature had been captured onto the single page, head tilting as you viewed such shading you thought only artists could do. "they're... amazing." breathing out as you looked back up, handing her the book as you suddenly realised you had been overstepping.

"thanks." she chuckled, taking the book out of your hands. with your eyes glued to the ground, you let her take it from your soft grasp. but when her fingers brushed against yours, you tried all that you could to not look up at her with pink flushed cheeks, simply ignoring it as it seemed she had. she placed the book back down on the table, turning in her chair to view you once more. "uhm... did you need something..?" she hadn't said it in a rude way but it was enough to send you back to reality.

"oh!" looking down at the green jacket in your hands. "uhm, maria and tommy said to give you this, you left it in the main hall." it was simply easier to call your parents by their first name in front of ellie, you didn't wish to embarrass yourself by calling them mama or daddy in front of her, it was beyond shameful so you simply stuck to their names, shooting your hand out to hand her the jacket.

"oh, thank you." grasping the jacket but this time her fingers never grazed yours. "probably gonna need this in the morning. last thing i need is to be going on patrol with no jacket." laughing softly at the very unfunny comment before tossing the jacket to the side.

your head perked up. "you're on patrol?" confused brows furrowing together.

"yeah." she squirmed in her seat. "why, something wrong with that?"

"no, no." you quickly defended, shaking your head. "it's just... you're a little young for that, no?"

she shrugged her shoulders. "nothin' i haven't seen before." you nodded your head at that, a little unsure but nonetheless, you were not one to interject. if she said she knew what she was doing, she probably did, after all she had spent more time on the road than anyone else in jackson. "hey, uh, the storm has gotten pretty bad out there." you turned your head in confusion, eyes peering out the window. she wasn't lying. snow now tumbled down outside at a much quicker pace than the small flakes that had fallen on you on your way there. "why don't you stay here for the night, probably too dangerous to walk back now anyway."

you turned your head back slowly, mind registering the words ellie had just spoken. you had never had a sleepover before, and you were sure that this wasn't a sleepover at all, but your mind couldn't help but jump in ecstasy. "uhm..." your parents wouldn't even notice, if anything, they'd be over the moon at the thought of their daughter spending time with someone her age. "are you sure you don't mind?" shuffling your feet against the wooden floor, hopping from foot to foot.

she almost laughed at you, blinking at you. " 'course not." as if you were being absurd. she stood from the seat, pushing herself towards her drawers. "you can wear some of my clothes for the night but they uh, might be a little big." she eyed you, noticing that you were shorter than her, not by a great amount but enough to make her clothes baggy on you.

"i don't mind." you smiled gently at the girl who was already grinning at you. "thank you, ellie." you weren't used to people your age being nice to you. usually, they were beyond rude which was more or less why you had put yourself in a shell. you knew you'd get nowhere in making friends so what was the point? your parents obviously thought very differently. so it was safe to say that ellie williams, a rather scary teenager, being quite kind to you was a rather foreign feeling, something inside you screaming at you, stating that she was playing some kind of a joke on you, it was a game, all a game. but the way her eyes softened when she looked at you had your knees weak and the wall you had built up slowly chipping.

she shrugged, tossing a long white shirt your way. "that's what friends are for."

you caught the t shirt. friends? the ellie williams wanted to be your friend?

that was the first sleepover of many. ellie williams was an exact opposite of you, that was the exact reason why you were the perfect match. everyone in jackson adored you as if you were their own daughter but despite that, you were rather reserved. you didn't have many friends your age, dina and jesse maybe, but you weren't close with them, not like you were with ellie. she was outgoing, bubbly, everyone adored her just as much, the only difference was that she was much more popular with the people your age. she had gone through so many girls it baffled you and now she was on the next, cat was her name, and ellie seemed infatuated by her.

but despite her going through her fair share of girls she always told you one thing, as corny as it was that you were 'her main girl' always and forever, you couldn't deny that the words had your cheeks heating up an embarrassing amount.

you were never good with people your age, not good at keeping conversations or starting them. you always had a problem with opening your mouth around them but with ellie, it was the exact opposite. she was so easy to talk to, a complete breath of fresh air in a world you never imagined yourself being happy in.

you did everything together, went everywhere together, you were practically attached to her hip by the time you were both nineteen. like now, as you stood with your hands on her shoulders in attempts to keep your balance. she was leaned down on one knee, the other propped up with your left foot placed on it, tying your shoelaces with ease. "should we check the east estate?" you questioned, fumbling with the fabric of your gloves. this wasn't a new thing, it seemed as though you always tracked around with your shoe laces untied, ellie constantly commented on it, stating that you'd someday fall and break your head open. you always rolled your eyes and called her dramatic until you actually fell over and then she'd bend down and tie them for you, despite your angry protests. today wasn't like no other, the white snow dusting across the knees of your jeans served as proof.

"jesse and dina did yesterday." she shrugged. you had been designated patrol partners upon the day of your very first patrol, you begged your parents to assign you together. they tried to get you out there, talking to other people and making new friends but after too many nights of you returning with tear stained cheeks, they decided that ellie was enough. her face suddenly contorted. "yeah we should probably check." patting the back of your calf to let you know you could bring your foot back down.

the boot on your foot crunched against the snow while you looked up at the girl as she stood, taller than you, she had grown a great deal since she was fourteen. "thought you said jesse and dina checked yesterday." following her in the snow, she knew the tracks much better than you did.

she gave you the smallest of smirks that you couldn't understand. you were so innocent, she thought, then again it was hard to be educated in a world alike their own. "they weren't doing anything except for getting in eachother's pants, sweetheart." that pretty nickname that always had your cheeks set aflame.

a mix between the pet name and the words that had fallen from her mouth as if it were nothing had your whole face a beat red. "oh." fell from your lips while the girl chuckled at you, fixing the straps of her backpack. you were thankful to be standing behind her now for you were sure that if she had been at eye level with you, she would have seen your flustered face and that was simply something you didn't need her seeing.

the east estate came into the clearing quicker than you thought, you had also finished much earlier than intended so there was nothing to do other than raid the nearby houses. "so..." you trailed off, attempting to make conversation from behind ellie, her gun in her hands as she peeked around a corner, nervous as your nonchalant figure stood behind her, gun hidden somewhere in your bag. you really were too clumsy for this job. "how are you and cat." the name rolling off in a way you didn't like, it made you almost disgusted in yourself.

"fine." she opened the last bathroom door, shoulders relaxing as she began rooting through the shelves. you made yourself busy in the bedroom that was attached to it, you couldn't imagine living in a house so big. "I told you we're not serious."

"wouldn't matter if you were." you mumbled so lowly that the girl didn't even hear it, she had just assumed that you dropped the subject altogether. the silence was swiftly cut off when you opened a box, finding a chess box inside. "oh my god!"

ellie came out from the bathroom swiftly, her gun clutched tightly between her fingers. you hadn't even noticed her demeanour slouching as she realised you were excited, not scared. "hey, weren't you lookin' for one of those?" nodding at the box of chess inside your hands.

"yeah, it's so cool!" it was a glass set, the one that you had in fact, been searching for. you adored chess, it was a way to ease the mind but you had never come across a glass set, as badly as you had wanted it. "wonder if the people who used to live here liked chess." you placed it down on the bed and moved around to the other side of the room, pulling open one of the drawers.

"what are you doin'?" leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, you turned to her baffled, confused as to what you were doing wrong. "I mean, why aren't you packin' it?"

you shrugged your shoulders, glancing back at the set. "no room in my bag." and you were travelling on feet today meaning you didn't have your horse to carry an extra bag. your own bag had been filled to the brim with both food and some medical supplies along with your gun lost somewhere, you didn't have room for a stupid chess board. besides, you were sure that if your mother saw you bring it in through the gates she would wear a disapproving face and tell you that you shouldn't be looking out for things like that, you were out there to get stuff for the town, there was no need to be so selfish.

ellies brows were furrowed. "but you wanted it." as unfair as the situation was, you simply rolled your shoulders with a small laugh.

"doesn't matter." you stated, closing the drawers. "it's not that important anyway." ellie loved tommy and maria, truly, but she couldn't deny that they were more leader than they were parents at times. they often belittled you, stated that your interests didn't matter, that you were truly just a spec in the massive town but ellie knew they had to realise you were much more than a member of jackson, you were their daughter. "should we go back now?"

ellie took a glance out the window, it was beginning to get dark. "one more house, then we can go back." to which you nodded her head and exited the bedroom. the bedroom in the next home was an exact replica except for the different sheets and the wallpaper, along with the fact that the vanity was from a different store. this made you realise that the houses were probably already furnished before they were sold. "oh, look." ellie spoke as you looked up from the magazines you were flicking through. "cat loves cats, ironic." she laughed and stare down at the necklace in her hands, a black cat pendant on the silver chain.

you moved closer towards it, it truly was pretty. it reminded you of how ellie had given you a necklace once of a pink gem heart, you still wore it around your neck every day. you ignored the rising bile in your stomach and swallowed harshly, unsure if why you suddenly felt a little hot. "why don't you bring it back to her?" looking at it over ellie's shoulder. the sudden thought of ellie standing behind cat, clasping the back of the necklace together with a smile on her face caused your head to spin, and not in a way that you liked. you couldn't understand why you were feeling like this, perhaps it was because ellie williams was your best friend and the thought of her leaving, picking someone over you, was truly bone crushing. or perhaps it was because you never really had a best friend before and you didn't wish to loose the one you had made.

"nah." plopping it back down on the table. you furrowed your brows at her, if she knew that she would like it, why not gift it to her? when ellie turned, she noticed the confused look on your face. "I told you, it's not like that." and suddenly you were hyper aware of the necklace around your neck that she had gifted you, surely you weren't like that either. then again, it didn't really count because it was for your birthday and as your best friend, she probably just felt the need to buy something for you. maybe it was pity, maybe it was guilt, you just had to accept the fact that ellie williams in no way felt that way for you. then again you didn't either, right? so what was the big deal. perhaps you were just jealous that you thought your best friend had picked a new friend, you decided to ignore it, swallowing down the annoyed feeling. "you okay?"

you swallowed, pushing your feet around. "are we ready to go back?" dodging the question completely, it was easier to do this than lie, you didn't like to lie, especially to ellie. lying that you were okay was one thing but you knew ellie, she wouldn't leave it there, she'd make you promise and you don't break promises.

ellie knew better than to start something here, now, so she simply nodded her head, pursing her lips as she picked her bag up off the ground. "yeah, lets go." you nodded your own head, making sure to fix the straps of your bag before leaving the house you were in, ready to walk back to jackson with snow crunching beneath your feet.

the walk home was quiet, not an uncomfortable silence but instead one that hazily loomed over you both, one that you were well used to by now. "so..." kicking the snow underneath her feet, ellie cleared her throat. "your mom talk to you about that party tonight?" it was a gathering in the main hall, one with alcohol so naturally ellie's brain wired itself into believing it was a party, she had convinced herself and everyone around her.

you knew better than to contradict what she was saying and instead nodded your head. "mhm." humming. "you going?" you turned to face her, nose upturned. you were always forced into these events, whether you wished to be there or not. usually, the reasoning behind this was to 'get you out there' was what your parents told you, anyway, stating that you 'needed people in your life other than ellie' you begged to differ, ellie williams was enough for you.

"probably." kicking the snow underneath her feet, you could hear something in her bag rattling, you shrugged it off for cans hitting against one another or something hollow holding small continents that didn't take up enough space. "can't leave you all alone now, can I?" and despite the fact she spoke with a grin, you nodded your head, knowing that the only reason she was actually going was, in fact, to make sure that you weren't alone. "why're you so silent today?" though you had only begun your silent spell the minute the name 'cat' was uttered from the girls lips.

you shrugged your shoulders. "jus' tired." but you couldn't wear the image from your head. cat turned around as ellie tied the necklace to her neck from behind. cat wasn't a girly girl, though, unlike you, no, she never wore skirts, had little to no jewelry and was rather tough, you supposed that had nothing to do with being girly but everything to do with your insecurities. you were shy, small in tough situations, ellie was sort of a protector, you supposed you were insecure in knowing that ellie didn't have that weight on her shoulders when she was with cat, she didn't have to worry about 'taking care of her' not in the way she did with you, you couldn't deny the guilt that begun to sprout.

"y/n." ellie chuckled, slightly tugging on the bottom stand of your hair to get your attention, you pushed your head away, gazing up at her, you hadn't noticed the way your eyes ever so slightly had begun to gloss over. god, you thought, this was beyond embarrassing. or at least, it should have been. your face should have been red raw and you shouldn't have been able to form a coherent sentence, but it was ellie you were talking to, she knew you inside out, better than you knew yourself, there truly was nothing to be embarrassed about. "get out of your head." and she knew your overthinking like the back of her hand, she knew that once set off, you fell down a not too sweet rabit hole and despite the fact she had absolutely no idea what you were thinking about, she could tell that expression from anywhere, in desperate need of an escape, she provided you with one.

"sorry." you spoke lowly, eyes gazing down at the wet patches on the knee of your jeans, from when you had fallen in the snow beforehand.

"nothin' to be sorry for, angel." head turned upwards as the gates of jackson came into her view. "i'm gonna tell joel to come too, you think your mom and dad need anything?"

you assumed joel would be coming anyway, seeing as tommy was his brother, but you hadn't known for sure, joel wasn't exactly the most reliable man you'd ever met, despite the fact he was your uncle. "doubt it but you should tell him to ask daddy anyway."

you both entered the gates of jackson, smiling to jesse as he took your bag off your back without a word. "will do." ellie turned, a smile slowly curving up on her lips, but before you could bask in her angelic features, she was stumbling backwards, hands pushing out to hold herself and... cat up. cat had thrown her arms around her as if she were a long distant girlfriend, meeting her in an airport, ellie's own hands came down to her waist to stablize her, you suddenly felt the bile rise to your throat, you were going to be sick.

as your breathing turned shallow, your mouth dry and cold, you ignored the way your eyes suddenly stung and simply turned around, you couldn't face it, the sight of them had become too much. you could vaguely remember hearing your name being called from behind you, though you couldn't remember if it were jesse, ellie or even cat who had called it, one task at hand, getting home.

luckily for you, your house wasn't mere minutes from the gates so you arrived home rather briskly. the only downside to this, your eyes had become red rimmed and it had not yet wore off, your mother also stood inside the kitchen with a woman named donna, a lovely woman who was helping out with tonight's gathering. "hey sweet-" she cut herself off, noticing the small tears in your eyes. "what happened?"

you turned, embarrassment filling your face. "I- uhm, cut my knee really bad, gonna go up to the bathroom and clean it." you were a bad liar, a terrible one even but what else was there to say? you couldn't even decipher why you were sad yourself. you couldn't possibly be... jealous? could you? no. not a chance.

"show me a look." she almost demanded, voice still as soft as honey.

"no- no, it's okay." already halfway up the stairs as your concerned mother stood next to a confused donna. "it doesn't even hurt that bad, i'll be down soon." and without waiting for another word, you had pushed yourself right up the stairs and into the bathroom, locking the door.

for as long as you could remember, your bathroom had been a solitude for you, a safe haven. sure, your bedroom had a lock but it wasn't used unless emergencies so you knew better than to use it every time you were upset, which proved to be often as you grew up and realised just how utterly sensitive you were. you sat on the bathroom floor, breathing irregular but you squeezed your eyes shut, pushing your head onto your knees and wondered, what was all of this even from? surely, you weren't that upset just because you thought you weren't ellie's favourite anymore.

whatever the case, all you knew was that the tears didn't stop until later that night when you sat in front of your vanity, applying little blotches of make up.

you weren't typically a make up girl but you knew you had to do something to get rid of these stupid tear stains on your cheeks. finally, you had fixed your face enough to know that no one, not even ellie williams herself, would be able to spot how hard you cried that morning. then, you slipped on your dress that your mother had picked out for you.

(the dress bc i want you guys to be able to see the idea i had with this)

and in less than a half hour, you stood inside the main hall, a bowl of treats in your hands as you went around to the younger ones, passing them out, also passing them out to the adults who stared a little too long, making their longing and shame both very apparent. you didn't mind however, smiling sweetly before offering them one to which they greedily dug in.

you spoke to a lot of people that night, stopped to conversate with some that you wouldn't have if you were under different circumstances. you could feel eyes piercing into you, the ones belonging to giddy teenagers who, for some reason, found enjoyment in what you could only guess was talking about you. you didn't much care for the teenagers of jackson, sure, you adored ellie williams with your whole heart and you found comfort in dina and jesse, an on and off couple from the minute you met them but other than that, you didn't really have friends. they made you feel different, a kind of different that made you question if there were something wrong with you, there had to be, if so many people truly could not get along with you. you talked to the elderlies, to the adults, even to the kids, but the teenagers... the teenagers you steered clear of.

you spoke to dina and jesse earlier that night, however, they had run off the minute the alcohol that they shouldn't have been drinking hit their system and suddenly they had disappeared into thin air. your eyes searched the room as you bit on your thumb, well aware of the teenage laughter behind you, aimed directly at you.

where was ellie? it was approaching eleven o clock, some people had headed home, the couples too lazy to wait any longer, the parents who's kids needed their rest, some of the elderlies who needed sleep just as much as the kids. ellie said she'd be here, the thought of her missing it because she and cat had some sort of run in made your stomach sick and yet it was the only thing you could think of, it had to be the only excuse. i mean, cat was no where to be spotted either.

you sat at one of the tables, chin resting in the palm of your hand, your shoes had begun to get uncomfortable and your hair seemed too tight, you were sure a little mascara had smudged beneath your eyes too, despite the many times you rubbed it away with your finger. ellie wasn't one to not stick to what she told you, she wasn't one to stand you up either. but you knew how it was, cat was hers and she was cats despite the many times she told you they weren't, you knew that, so why were you disappointed to think she chose her over you?

the thought of ellie hugging her tight, kissing her lips, even down her neck, you could feel your stomach turning. you wanted nothing more than to get the image out of your head. to your luck, or maybe not, you were brought back to life with a tap on your shoulder. "y/n, hey!" that was a voice you recognised all too well, your stomach turned even more than it already had. was there anything that was going good for you that night?

you turned around, standing up as if you were nervous to be in the girls presence, she giggled at this. "hi, kady." kady was a pretty girl, one that was beyond popular, for reasons you were still unsure about. sure, she was pretty, she had a large circle of friends but to this day you couldn't decipher why people liked her. she was a cruel teenage girl, one who invalidated others to make her own head bigger than it already was, truly, it was a surprise to you that she could even fit in the door.

upon the years that you grew up in jackson, kady had always treated you as though you were someone below her. and maybe you were, you had grown used to the way she acted around you, her unacceptable behaviour towards you had grown seemingly acceptable, simply because you wouldn't stand up for yourself. "having fun by yourself?" she had a grin on her face, one that would have looked polite and sweet but truly was nothing other than conceited. "oh gosh, i don't mean it like that." quick to correct herself noticing the way your face had fallen. "I just mean... you know, i thought ellie would spare some time away from cat for the evening but i guess not."

you simply shrugged your shoulders, not wishing to buy into this any longer. "she's probably just busy." mumbling. you always felt yourself become smaller around kady, as if you were truly a child once more and she was picking on you once more, causing you to go running home to your mother with dewey eyes, they brushed it off with you being too sensitive.

"probably with cat, if you know what i mean." wriggling her brows at you suggestively, you simply bit your lip and turned away. "i was kinda surprised when they got together, i always thought you guys would get together."

your head snapped towards her at that statement. "what?" suddenly your breath grew short. "why would you think that?" you had a secret, one no one could know, not even the pages of your diary, one you had begun to accept that very morning, now, however, you wished nothing more than to flush it down the drain.

"come on, y/n, we're not blind." rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her black tank top. "you follow her around like a lost puppy, it's pathetic." your gut twisted, her words forming a knot in your stomach. "i mean, it's probably for the best she's with cat, i don't think anyone would be able to stick a relationship with you."

you looked up, ignoring the way your eyes annoyingly began to sting. you hated how sensitive you were, you were a crybaby, an annoying, pathetic crybaby. "kady can you just... leave me alone." your voice broke, as did your heart, shattering right on the floor in that very second.

"god, do you hear yourself?" she was laughing, as if any of this was truly funny. "face it, y/n, you're never going to be anything other than the irritating little girl you were as a kid, you're never going to change, you're never going to get someone like ellie williams to love someone like you." what did that even mean? your mind spun, your head felt queasy, your eyes hazy.

you didn't say anything else, you weren't going to entertain it, you pushed past a laughing kady, practically throwing her head back at the state you were in now.

you pushed past everyone else, ignoring the strange looks you got at the sight of your tear stained cheeks, ignoring the way your throat begun to hurt an abnormal amount. only one thing in your mind.

"you're never going to get someone like ellie williams to love someone like you."

it rung through your mind causing your whole body to shift, you wanted to go home, get to bed and cry. you wanted to cry your heart out and ignore ellie williams for eternity. why? because you knew that you had already fallen deeply in love with her and there wasn't even the slightest possibility she felt some way remotely alike that to you. you blamed yourself, not her, but that didn't mean you could ever face her again.

just as you though the night couldn't possibly get any worse, already drowned in the heavy rain pattering against your skin, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. you walked directly into something, or more specifically, someone. arms instantly reached out, stabilizing you both. you turned your nose up, just about to apologise for your rudeness before you caught sight of who it was. "y/n, what-" you cut the brunette girl off before she could speak anymore.

"where were you?!" your hands pushed her back and ellie stumbled backwards, stunned at your actions with wide eyes and mouth fallen agape. "you told me you'd be there and you weren't! you told me you would!" she couldn't understand why you were so mad and why your face had been covered in mascara and ugly fat tears that clouded your pretty eyes.

"y/n, i'm sorry i didn't think it would be a big deal-" attempting to walk closer to you once more. "I was with cat and-"

"of course you were!" taking your own steps back, ellie's brows furrowed in confusion. "you're always with s-stupid cat!"

ellie couldn't understand where all of this was coming from, she thought you liked cat for you had gushed over how sweet she was a number of times before she and ellie were ever even a thing. "y/n, i'm sorry!" she pushed herself towards you but before you could get away, her hands were falling on your forearms. "i should have been there, i know, i'm sorry, i messed up."

you shook your head, ignoring the way your tears had mixed with the heavy rain pattering against your frail skin. "y-you picked her." your words just above a whisper and due to the heavy rain, ellie had hardly heard you.

"what?" sudden confusion washing over her. ellie was a girl of her word but it wasn't rare for her to not show up to things, she always apologised profusely and did everything in her power to make it up to you, what was rare, however, was this reaction sprouted from you.

you turned your head, sighing heavily and squeezing your eyes shut, you wanted to be at home, in bed. "it doesn't matter." hands moving to wipe your face, ignoring the way ellie's own hands fell from your arms, causing instant warmth to be retracted. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry." suddenly, you felt as though it were all your fault.

ellie was your best friend, albeit, just a friend. she owed you nothing. and you had no place to be this angry with her for being with someone when you were nothing. "what- no, no, why are you sorry?" you shook your head once more, taking a step back. she wasn't having it. she was in front of you again in an instant, her hands coming down to take in your face.

silence washed over you both, the only sound to be heard was the constant patter of rain against the ground beneath you and your breaths that had grown slightly heavier now that you were so close. her warm hands completely contradicted your freezing face, a beautiful contrast as they slowly caressed your pretty skin. "talk to me, angel." her words a soft lull. "don't shut me out."

your mind was racing as ellie williams stood exactly where you wanted her, where you needed her. but would you risk everything you've ever created with her for something she may not even have thought about before? no, you told yourself, you couldn't. but the louder, the stronger, part of yourself screamed at you to. "i can't say it." you opted for, mouth scrunching in distaste as your voice wobbled like a child. an absolute crybaby.

ellie shook her head, auburn locks shaking with it. "yes you can, baby." thumbs moving against your skin. "say the words and i'll make the sentences if i have to just... say something." and the way her own voice cracked, the way her desperate walls began to fall down, suddenly, you wondered if she already knew. she had to have. did she think the same way you did? had she already had this conversation a thousand times in her head like you did? did she imagine this very scenario a million times over just alike you did?

suddenly, your head felt light.

suddenly, your breath slowed.

suddenly, your thoughts fell right out of your mind.

suddenly, her lips looked so sweet.

suddenly, your own her on hers.

you pushed your head upwards, your lips crashing into her own. her hands instantly fell to your waist, holding you. your own hands were brought up, sure the cloth of your sleeves were still stuck to your hands but you didn't care, for you would have much rathered to hold her face no matter the situation. slowly, the tears vanished as your lips moved against her own, you melted into her, in a way that you had never melted before, you were a puddle. ellie took over in an instant, her face pushed against yours, lips moving hasitly as if she was scared you'd disappear.

however, you eventually pulled away for air, your lungs squeezed together as you panted against her lips, one hand holding her cheek, the other at the back of her neck. you looked up at her with your pretty doe eyes, a smile soon formed on her lips as they curved upwards. "just so you know." she panted, too out of breath. "i'd choose you." lips pushing against yours for a gentle peck. "a million times over."

that night was filled with a thousand more kisses and a gift from ellie, surprisingly enough. a certain glass chess set sitting a top her bed as she grinned at you. it was like that. not with cat but with you.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[hugs2doie]

hi !!! could u do a haech scenario based off round&round? i luv ur stuff sm !!!!!

round&round. — l.d.h

PAIRING. haechan x gn!reader

GENRE. idk cutesy, js haechan being whipped ngl

WC. 491

NINI’S NOTE. haechan??? my ult?? with round&round??? one of my fave nct dongs rver??? u want me so bad anon.. AND I LOVE U TOOO. fid this at 3 am and i dont yhink its proofread… not v proud kf this but i jope u liekk it 💞💞 (turn on light mode for the banner to look prettier 😓)

“smile a bit!” you had told haechan with a big smile of your own, as you were holding his phone up, ready to take a picture with him.

but if only it was so easy for haechan to stand close to you without feeling his heart beating faster than the speed of light.

his pretty brown eyes bore into yours in nervousness after you scolded him, but he nevertheless stood closer to you, and slowly threw up a peace sign and a small smile.

“say cheese!”

and just like that, the picture that he was looking at with the goofiest and biggest grin ever on his hand, was taken.

he wasn’t even looking at himself in the picture, he was looking at you.

you and your stupid smile that got him feeling like he’s a little boy who just got his first ever crush. you who made him feel like he was so close but so far away from you. you who made him scared to make the first move, because you’re just friends, what if you reject him? but also you, who makes him the happiest man with just throwing a glance on his way.

he wasted his time today again. and before he knows it, it’s 2:30 am.

2:30 am.

he’s been tossing and turning under his bed sheets for a while trying to sleep, yet both his heard and brain won’t let him. what is wrong with him? he simply wanted to have a nice night sleep, and not think about his stupid teenage-y boy crush on his friend, those were for kids anyways.

but no matter how hard he tried, thoughts of you just won’t leave him alone.

did he seriously have to be so pathetically in love with you? his friends have called him a loser multiple times ‘cause of this but he just can’t see why. i mean, it’s not like he’ll confess and then boom you’re dating! it’s more complicated than that, a lot more.

he just didn’t want to lose you. a simple confession between friends can ruin the whole friendship.

his overthinking was really eating him up this late at night.

you really were his everything. you were his sun and he was just the earth orbiting, and always wandering around you. he’d seek for you everywhere, but sometimes he’d think if you’d feel the same. i mean you have said a couple of “i love you”s, but those were just in the friendship way, right?

he needs you deeply. it’s like he’s a drug addict and you’re the drug.

at this point he’s surprised you haven’t figured out he likes you. the poor boy stutters and avoids eye contact with you all the time.

but he can’t help but be obvious when it comes to you.

he wasted his time yet again today,

but who knows,

maybe tomorrow he won’t.

[itsjustaninchident]

Our Song 🎧

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader

smau

summary: our song might've been yn's and daniel's song❣️

warning/s: none

author's note: got this sudden idea because of how daniel mentioned that his favorite taylor swift song is 'our song' (he's definitely a swiftie because he didn't go for the generic straight man answer for his fave ts song)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and 572,402 others

yourusername i was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car, he got a one hand feel on the steering wheel the other on my heart❤️

view 59,284 comments...

user1 AWWWW

user2 NOW WHERE DO I FIND SOMEONE TO DO THIS W ME

user3 where's my silly race car driver driving for me and jamming to our song?????

landonorris he's definitely enjoying that

danielricciardo baby, is something wrong?

yourusername nothing, i was just thinking how we don't have song.

user4 THE SWIFTIE AND YNDANIEL FAN IN ME IS SCREAMING

user5 THIS IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user6 im too soft for this

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, scottyjames31, and 1,293,574 others

danielricciardo our song is the slamming screen door. sneakin' out late, tapping on your window.

view 48,392 comments...

yourusername when we're on the phone, and I talk real slow, 'cause it's late, and my mama don't know :P

danielricciardo the first date, "man, I didn't kiss her, and I should have" 😗

user1 THIS IS SO SILLY AND IM HERE FOR IT😭

user2 i love how they're both so down to post silly stuff like this its just so cute

user3 lord i actually love my parents sm

user4 as a swiftie, I didn't know we're now required to vibe to our song by pair😔 anyone wants to be my partner?

user5 im so single😭

user6 THIS IS THE VIBE

user7 taylor wrote this about them

yourusername and danielricciardo

liked by lilymhe, scottyjames31, and 1,897,374 others

yourusername and danielricciardo asking god if he could play it again

view 39,394 others...

user1 did u post this to physically cause chaos and hurt amongst the single nation of this earth

user2 the fact that they went to the eras tour and their surprise song was literally "our song"?! they're like the luckiest couple ever

taylorswift ❤️

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 29,483 others

yourusername I LOVE U TAY

user3 MOTHER LIKED AND COMMENTED

user4 yn is just like us

user5 yn is such a swiftie and im here for it

user6 where's mine😭

user7 this is so pure

user8 oh to have a boyfriend like daniel who supports your fangirl life😭 yn is so lucky

liked by yourusername and 1,293 others

danielricciardo I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song

liked by yourusername and 3,924 others

yourusername you're my favorite song🤍

[8hsaturn]

astro observations #3

Pisces moon coupled with earth, especially Capricorn, are unrivaled when it comes to philosophical and social breakthroughs. they have the spiritual awareness and collective vision of Pisces hand in hand with the objectivity and discipline of earth signs, and they can therefore be masters at deconstructing the functioning of society and the psyche. it’s such a consistent pattern with notable examples such as Joan of Arc (Cap Sun and Mercury), Benjamin Franklin (Taurus Saturn, Cap Venus & Sun), Henry Dunant who founded the red cross movement (Taurus Sun and Mercury, Cap stellium), Edgar Allan Poe considered to have invented the detective fiction genre and one of the earliest contributors to the genre of sci-fi (cap sun and mercury, Pisces stellium).

Venus conjunct Mercury could purchase books just because they look pretty and aesthetically pleasing lol. The type to look for the prettiest hardcover of a book to get.

Pisces stelliums with mercury, especially if it's retrograde, have such a hard time staying focused during a conversation, other people might think they're actively ignoring them but they just can't stay attentive for too long unless it's something they wanna know more about 😭 lowkey adorable when it’s not annoying lol.

A Virgo/gemini moon is a common placement amongst rappers known for being fast. Whether it's Doja Cat, Busta Rhymes, Min Yoongi, or Dizzee Rascal… after all, the moon (emotions and the inner mind) is ruled by fast-paced mercury (an exception would be if natal mercury was deeply afflicted). Jupiter conjunct Mercury as well can indicate the same.

5h moon transits are the times when you start to develop a crush or meet up with friends, decide to practice a particular hobby, binge tv shows/movies or read books, etc… one of my fave transits particularly because my 5h is in Pisces so I spend this transit often reading and consuming/creating art, and being delusional 🤭.

3h Pluto transit can indicate a gradual shift in your mindset, gradual because it’s a very long transit. It can either be positive or negative depending on how both your natal and transit pluto aspect your natal chart + transits. As my 3rd house is in Capricorn squaring my Aries moon, I spent this transit working on my work ethic and long-time consistency, as well as my self-esteem being dependent on how much I achieve and not my thoughts and core beliefs as a person (natal 2h pluto is in Sagittarius).

12h Leo can be such a humble bragger, and very obviously so… the type to complain about how being pretty sucks because guys like them too fast, or about how being rich isn’t easy, etc… I have six friends with this placement and only one isn’t like this but they’re also far older and more mature.

9th house in cancer people are very likely to be feminists or just very passionate about gender equality if the moon is well-aspected. If not, and if Venus and IC were not well-aspected, they could be deeply misogynistic and against gender emancipation.

that's it for today, thank you for reading my observations, and don't hesitate to ask and/or comment about anything!

[writingstoraes]

in his eyes 📸

pairing: charles_leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine/social media au

notes: not proofread hehe plz expect errors! seemed like it was a good idea so 🤷‍♂️ lmk what u guys think!

about: the launch of lec.jpg on instagram drives everyone crazy well because - majority of it is just you.

lec.jpg

liked by daniel.jpg, landonorris, pascale_leclerc, and 1,782 others

lec.jpg The most beautiful woman to ever walk the Earth. I just fall deeper in love with you every day.

P.S. Still unsure whether we'd finally get a dog 🤷‍♂️

daniel.jpg Such good pictures, mate! Beating me at my own game now? 😆

lec.jpg I just have the prettiest muse that's all

yourusername do you promise to attend to him if he goes number 2 or are u gonna leave me alone 🤔

lec.jpg

liked by alexalbon23, maxverstappen, lorenzotl, and 1,113 others

lec.jpg Had the best time tonight with the greatest girl in the world 🌍 Never a dull day with you, amoúr

carlossainz55 So sweet it physically pains me

landonorris Amazing, Daniel owes me 50 dollars

lec.jpg What was the bet, Lando?

landonorris That this account will be filled with Y/N's pictures 🫢

lec.jpg

liked by isahernaez, arthurleclerc, pierregasly, and 1,073 others

lec.jpg My baby and I in black and white 🤍

pierregasly A smile wouldn't hurt

lec.jpg Timer went off earlier than it was supposed to 🤷‍♂️

lilymhe My fave couple! ❤️

lec.jpg

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen, pascale_leclerc, and 1,450 others

lec.jpg Went karting with Y/N today, safe to say she is very lucky she's pretty hahaha i love you still, baby

yourusername i went easy on you cause your ego wont be able to handle it 😷

lec.jpg Okay Ms. Can't Drive Straight

lec.jpg

liked by pierregasly, lorenzotl, landonorris, and 1,001 others

lec.jpg Abu Dhabi. My lucky charm in the paddock all ready to cheer me on ❤️

yourusername my world champion, je taimè 😘

lorenzotl Best of luck, brother!

danielricciardo Charles come on I don't want to lose another 50 dollars to Lando can you post my face just once

lec.jpg

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, maxverstappen, and 1,293 others

lec.jpg So incredibly in love with you it's unbelievable

yourusername the exact same can be said to you, you know?

arthurleclerc Tell Y/N the cousins miss her

arthurleclerc Just her, not you hahaha

lec.jpg 🤦‍♂️

---------

tagging: @slytherheign

notes: currently working on split's part 2! let me know if u guys want to be tagged <33 thanks so much for reading!

[thehypnone]

Say It One More Time

WC: 10k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Love Story, Friends To Lovers, Mutual Pining, Falling In Love, Soulmates, First Kiss, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mating, Insecurities, Suggestive, Fluff, Cuddles, Anxiety, Self-Esteem Issues, Referenced Panic Attacks, Retirement, Fear Of The Future, Jamming Sessions, Nightmares, Literal Sleeping Together, Cuddle Piles, Pack Dynamics, Building A Home, Cooking/Baking Date, Domestic Fluff (old married couple coded), Growing Old Together

The story of Swiss and Mountain. From the beginning to the end. (But not really.)

Notes: Commissioned by the amazing @jimothybarnes! Thank you for letting me basically ramble about my faves fgfhdsgf

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Mountain joined the Ghost project in…trying times. So much chaos all around, there was not a moment of peace and the earth ghoul despised it. He thought he would be begging to get sent back to the Pit after one tour leg.

He did not.

Still, he never thought life like this was for him. He always doubted he would ever be really happy. Dewdrop’s elemental transition changed things; first it took away all hope, but then returned it double as he survived it and made full recovery—at least a physical one. That is when Mountain started seeing the human world a little differently.

He started wanting to have a life there, to settle, and that alone guaranteed him success already. Once his mind was set it did not take long for him to see it all changing in front of his eyes.

Or rather appearing in front of his eyes.

In the shape of a rather good looking multi ghoul.

Mountain has to admit he has found Swiss very attractive since the moment he stepped out from the summoning circle; even though he was slightly underweight and generally neglected when he did. The more time he is spending Topside, the more handsome he gets and, frankly, it is slowly getting out of hand, if you ask Mountain.

He is simply ridiculously gorgeous.

Over half a year since Swiss crawled out of the Pit Mountain has to admit that the amount of time he spends just…looking at him may be slightly concerning. So many times Dewdrop or Aether, who know him the best, had jabbed their elbows into his side teasingly and called him a creep. They never once told Mountain, though, how happy they are to see him thriving and blooming just like his element as he and Swiss get closer.

They are growing a friendship—a meaningful, deep connection.

Despite Swiss’ chaos contrasting Mountain’s calmness they found a common language in music and nature and soon enough it turned out the multi ghoul’s loudness is not all that he is, and the rest is easy to balance.

He and Mountain love working in the greenhouse or in the gardens together just as much as they enjoy jamming out in the rehearsal room with wide grins on both their faces. Swiss could not be happier, whatever it is they do together. Nobody has ever tried to get to know him, to overlook the complete mess that he seems to be at a first glance.

Mountain does and the multi ghoul doubts he is aware how important it is to him. Today the multi ghoul got an idea on how to show him. Or at least try to.

He pops his head into the greenhouse after lunch, knocking so as not to startle the earth ghoul; not so much asking for permission to come in.

“Hi, are–uhm, you busy?” he asks, getting startled himself instead, at the sight of Mountain shirtless. He turns and a small knowing smirk grows on face.

“No, not at all, just finished my work.” Mountain says and stretches. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to go for a walk and…” Swiss has some trouble remembering what he initially came there for as he struggles to rip his eyes away from the slight sheen of sweat on the earth ghoul’s chest, “uh, I was wondering if you’d go with me? I want to show you something.”

“Yeah, I’d love that! Give me just a minute, I’ll get this to the den and I’ll be right back.” Mountain points at a box filled with…something before picking it up. Swiss only nods and hangs his head to hopefully hide the blush on his face at least a little.

“Alright, I’ll wait here,” he mutters, hoping Mountain hears it as he has already walked out of the greenhouse. Swiss paces around the place waiting for the earth ghoul to return and takes a moment to appreciate all the work he does there. He is also happy to notice the plants he himself tended to and how they are flourishing. He smiles with pride.

Swiss is not used to anything thriving after it has been touched by him; that’s Mountain’s skill. His heart warms at the thought that the earth ghoul made him thrive just as he did the flora under his care and changed him; made it so he can bring good into the world, too. That is the greatest gift the earth ghoul could have ever given Swiss.

Soon enough he comes back and they set out into the woods.

“You probably know about it, it’s not like it’s super hidden,” Swiss says, “but I never heard anyone mention it and I just came across it one time and…I dunno, I just like it and wanted to take you there.”

Mountain nods with a smile; intrigued and charmed by the fact that Swiss has possibly found a place no one else knows about and he deemed the earth ghoul special enough to share said spot with him. 

They walk for some time—sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting away about various things—before Swiss stops. If not for Mountain's connection to the element they are currently surrounded in, he would be confused; there is nothing there at a first glance, but he can feel there is something.

Swiss takes one more step towards something that looks like a fallen tree resting against a hill and peels some of its branches away to reveal an entrance.

It’s a cave.

Mountain follows the other and they crawl through the tight space and into it. It’s huge and beautiful and the earth ghoul is enamored.

“Swiss, this is–woah, it’s gorgeous here,” he gasps and he is not overreacting. The cave really is something magical.

“So you didn’t know about it?” Swiss asks, slightly surprised. An earth ghoul not knowing every single inch of the local grounds?

“No,” he chuckles. “I heard from Ivy there were some caves around but I never went looking.”

Swiss does not answer, he only grins; proud of himself. He lets Mountain look around for as long as he wants to—the multi ghoul is already familiar with every single nook of the cave.

“There’s a raspberry bush over there,” Swiss says after a few moments, pointing at the other side of the cave where some light is coming from its top. “They’re really good.”

“Let’s see it,” the earth ghoul winks and follows Swiss to them. Before they get to the berries, Mountain crouches by the bush and places his hands where it pierces the ground. He closes his eyes and murmurs something under his breath. Swiss knows what he is doing; thanking the earth for such a gift.

It may just be Swiss’ imagination but the bush seems to brighten when Mountain stands back up.

“You have to teach me that sometime,” he says and the earth ghoul nods before picking up a raspberry and popping it into his mouth. He moans at the taste; they are good.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” He smiles at Swiss. “I really appreciate you.”

The multi ghoul returns the smile with a rosy blush dusting his cheek.

One evening seemingly changes everything. In reality, it changes nothing.

Another tour leg, another city, another show, another venue, another bar to let off some steam. Everyone has a drink or two in their hands, holding onto their human disguises and having fun in pairs or small groups. The music is loud, the lights are bright and it absolutely reeks of sweat, but it doesn’t bother anyone too much.

It’s the charm of such places, really.

Even Mountain is fine with all that; even though he’s not a huge fan, he’s content sitting in a dark corner with a mocktail and watching his packmates.

He sighs. Who is he even trying to lie to? Himself? Lucifer?

He’s watching Swiss.

Beautiful Swiss, laughing and smiling so brightly Mountain thinks he missed his destination; he should have been an angel, not a demon. The earth ghoul zones out staring at him as he laughs amongst their pack, as he dances and sings and Mountain can not help but think Swiss is the most perfect thing in the world, and…

Oh.

Oh.

He’s in love with him

Fuck.

Mountain can’t look at him the same after that realization. He ran away from the bar and avoided everyone for as long as possible—a whole ten hours—not knowing what to do with himself. Now that he knows what that feeling warming up his heart every time Swiss smiles at him is, the earth ghoul only knows need.

He needs him so bad.

He needs to hold him, to kiss him, to be held by him, to be kissed by him. He needs to be devoured and to devour and it feels like the longer none of that happens, the more breath he loses, and it does not take long for Mountain to feel as if he is suffocating.

Little does Mountain know, that he is actually a fucking idiot.

Swiss feels the exact same way; burning for him.

He’s not even discreet about it—he’s painfully obvious, actually—but Mountain is so focused on the doomsday scenario of getting rejected that he’s blind to the signs Swiss is throwing his way. Right under his feet.

It’s another few months before any of them do something more direct than stare yearningly at the other, and it’s not even either of them's idea. It’s their pack that all but pushes them into a tight broom closet and threatens not to let them out until they kiss. Or fuck.

Metaphorically, of course.

What they actually do is a whole scheme of talking them into it. They play a little dirty, they have to admit; showing one of them the messages that were never supposed to see the light of day from the other one, and the other way around.

They just have to make them believe it isn’t one big joke; neither Swiss nor Mountain have enough faith in themselves to accept that someone they see as absolute perfection could even consider…loving them. Oh, how wrong they both are.

Favorite method of Aether’s became getting Swiss high and filling his head with the images of a beautiful future he and Mountain can share if he only stops being such a cunt. He does not even need his quintessence for that.

“Mount’s a romantic, you know?” Aether sighs—slurring a little on purpose, so he seems more high than he actually is after only taking a few hits and feeding the rest to Swiss. “He loves spoiling people he loves and he gets all into it.”

“Mhm,” Swiss hums, sprawled out like a starfish on the quintessence ghoul’s bed. “He’s real sweet.”

“Yeah, he really is,” Aether confirms. “He likes giving gifts. He makes a lot of stuff and then gives it to people. It’s one of the ways he shows affection.”

“I got a few things from him,” the multi ghoul notes. “He grew a flower for me.”

Aether wants to scream at how stupid they both are.

“That’s cute,” he says instead. “What kinda flower?”

“A rose, orange and red.”

Aether face-palms himself. “That’s really lovely.”

“Yeah…” Swiss sighs dreamily. “I’m not so good at…being sweet.”

“Bullshit. You just do it in a different way.”

“Meh.”

“You help everyone,” Aether explains, trying to direct the conversation onto the multitude of times Swiss helped with or did something for Mountain. He also might pull up an article on love languages on his phone and force Swiss to read it, but that’s plan B. “I think that’s how you show affection.

“Huh…I guess it is.”

One evening it all comes to a climax. Swiss is returning from chores with Cirrus and the air ghoulette is laughing at how heart-eyes he gets the moment she so much as mentions Mountain.

When they get to the den they notice said earth ghoul resting in the common room on his own. Swiss tries to turn on his heel and run away—not in a state he would wish Mountain to see him—but Cirrus is done with them jumping around each other.

“Oh, no, you don’t, loverboy!”

She pushes Swiss into the room and Mountain notices him right away. Well, if he can’t run away, maybe he should just…go for it, like the air ghoulette advised him to.

Mountain is looking at him questioningly as he just stands there, contemplating, and he decides he can not make it worse. At least he hopes so.

Swiss walks up to the earth ghoul and plops down onto the couch next to him.

“Hey, can I ask you–” he starts, but Mountain speaks at the same time.

“Hi, I was actually–” 

“Oh, you first, but–”

“So I wanted to–”

“I was wondering if–”

They both pause this silly exchange—blushing bright red—and take deep breaths before speaking again.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” Swiss blurts out, tired of the thoughts that could not be let out jumping around in his head.

“Yeah…” Mountain sighs and giggles to himself before cupping the multi ghoul’s cheek and bending down to kiss him, indeed. Swiss melts into it and nothing else but the two of them exists anymore in this chaotic world.

If their pack that is looking out of the windows cheers as they watch, Swiss and Mountain will never know.

Ghoulish nature is a curious thing.

There are many strange things about it—at least to humans—but it’s understandable considering they are quite literally demons from the pits of Hell. One thing that humans are always particularly amazed by is mating.

It’s not as common as it is sometimes believed. It’s unlike human marriage; that is something frail and all but an act—it does not influence one’s very core.

Mating does.

The spirits of ghouls that mate split and twist together and bind them with a bond unbreakable.

That is why some deem it too dangerous.

Swiss and Mountain, even if they are not aware of it, have both dreamed of committing such an act.

Swiss, who despite his confidence always feels out of place, wanting to experience the comfort of being someone’s, of belonging. Being owned, even.

Mountain, who despite his metaphorical wealth always feels like he’s lacking something, wanting to have someone to be there for him, to choose him.

For years they have both been scared of bringing it up, fearing the other would laugh in their face or push them away.

At the end of the day, neither of them bring it up, really.

“You stink!” Dewdrop announces one day as he storms into the common room where Swiss and Mountain are lounging comfortably on a sofa. “You’ve both been stinking up the place for days now and we all decided to keep our mouths shut because you’re cute, but I’m done with it! You know you should keep away for a while after mating! Besides, how are you just laying here and not fucking twenty-four seven!?”

The pair looks at the agitated ghoul with confusion.

“What the hell are you on?” Swiss snorts.

“We aren’t mated,” Mountain adds.

Dewdrop’s jaw drops as he realizes they really are clueless.

“Except you are, idiots!” the fire ghoul yells. “Last friday, did you fuck?”

“Dew, that’s–”

“DID YOU FUCK!?”

“Fucking Lucifer, yes, we did,” Swiss laughs. “So what?”

“Oh, let’s see! Whoever was topping, did you happen to knot and bite the other one?”

“Well…yes, but we’ve done that so many times before, and–” Mountain mutters, now calculating in his mind.

“SURPRISE, you’re mated! I don’t fucking know how you managed to do it by accident, but you did, so I wish you a happy mated life and now get the fuck out to the woods, I have to air the den out.”

Mountain is the first to stand up—or rather shoot up—but he does not wait for Swiss. No, he runs out of the common room, leaving the remaining two ghouls confused.

The multi ghoul swallows the growing lump in his throat as he follows, albeit way slower. As he leaves he can hear Dewdrop swearing under his breath as he slams the windows open. Swiss is about to cry. Did Mountain…he claimed him by accident and ran away when he was made aware. Does he regret it, does he not want him? Does he not love him?

The multi ghoul wraps his own arms around himself as he leaves the Abbey. He does not know where Mountain went to, but he is sure it’s not to the cave in the woods. Swiss hopes so, at least, wanting to have that space for himself.

Indeed, he does not find his mate there, but it does not make anything better. Swiss crumples to the floor with his claws digging into his sides as he sobs.

He thought he finally found home. He thought that after hundreds of years of loneliness and abuse he found love, but now…it seems it was all a lie. He spends the night curled up in one of the nooks of the cave; with stone digging into his cold body.

Mountain does not sleep.

He ran and ran until he ran out of breath and collapsed somewhere by the other edge of the forest. He cried, realizing how many mistakes he has managed to make.

He knows Swiss, knows his insecurities. He knows what the multi ghoul is now surely thinking.

That he hates him.

The truth is that Mountain panicked once it hit him that Dewdrop was right. Some instinct must have overtaken that last friday and the earth ghoul claimed Swiss without realizing. He did not run away because he regrets it, he–well, he does regret it, but only because he did it without Swiss’ consent.

They have never even talked about it and he just did it to him; Mountain feels like a monster. What if it’s something Swiss never ever wanted to do?

It doesn’t matter now; if he wanted it before, now he certainly wants nothing to do with the earth ghoul. Not only did he violate him, but he ran away like a coward after.

He has fucked up beyond measure.

It’s a few days before either Swiss or Mountain emerge from their hiding spots; though still not knowing what next step to take. They are both clueless that they’re getting closer and closer as they’re trying to return home; only realizing once they bump into each other.

“Fuck, sorry, ‘m sorry,” Swiss mutters and immediately turns on his heel to walk away.

“Please, don’t go,” Mountain begs, voice cracking. The multi ghoul snaps his head back with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why?”

“I’m an idiot, I–I panicked,” the earth ghoul whines, “I didn’t know what to do so I ran, I’m so sorry, my darling.”

“Why?” Swiss repeats.

“You never agreed to it.”

Swiss’ eyes widen.

“That’s…that’s it? You felt bad for claiming me because I didn’t say you could do it?”

“Yes, darling,” Mountain breathes out. “I know what you must’ve been thinking and I’m so, so sorry for making you think any of this was on you. I love you so much, Swiss. I always have and always will.”

The multi ghoul stares at the ground, swallowing thickly. Mountain is all but shaking with anxiety; not knowing whether he is about to be rejected for good or not.

It all dissipates when Swiss throws himself at Mountain, jumping up into his arms. The earth ghoul grabs him as he stumbles backwards and clings to him for dear life as their lips meet.

“I love you, too,” Swiss cries into his mouth. “I’ve always wanted to be yours.”

“Fuck, Swiss, can we–uh, can we pretend it isn’t done yet?” Mountain mutters. “I want to do it properly. Will you let me?”

“Yes, my love. Let’s do it properly.”

It is a few more days before they actually leave the woods.

Swiss always complains when he and Mountain have to work not only separately, but also in the opposite sides of the Abbey. It’s cruel and, frankly, homophobic—as Aeon likes to joke, having picked the phrase up from Tik-Tok.

The multi ghoul would much rather work with Mountain, or not work at all, and he tried to use an argument that he’ll be much more productive with his mate by his side, but one time was enough for Sister Imperator to know it would make them both way less productive. Swiss will not agree, of course—at least not out loud—but he realizes that defiling something they were about to clean was not a great way to prove they could work together on a daily basis.

Anyway, knowing his mate is close enough keeps him as calm as he can be without being in his arms. Swiss can never wait for the work to be finished so he can fall right back into Mountain’s hold, of course, but at least he can survive the hours leading to it.

M: hi my heart, i finished my chores early so ill be in the practice room if you need me, see you soon <3

Swiss grumbles reading the text from his mate. How on earth does Mountain always manage to finish all his work hours before the others? It’s truly unfair, he thinks. It is definitely not caused by Mountain actually doing what he is supposed to instead of getting distracted with a multitude of other things as Swiss happens to.

S: alright, ill catch u when im done, love u

Groaning at having to be away from Mountain for another hour, at least, he gets back to work. Thankfully he’s been left alone in the room without many distractions. Still, an hour is way too long, so when Swiss shoots his next text, half an hour later, he may or may not have forgotten about some of the tasks yet to be done.

S: i’m done, my love, still practicing?

Lack of an answer is an answer enough for Swiss, so he bolts in the practice room’s general direction before someone can notice him ditching chores. He catches Mountain’s scent just before he gets to the sound-proofed door and takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of fresh grass, blooming flowers and pine. He can not hold back the smile that grows on his face as he enters the room.

Mountain is—as usual—fully immersed in music, smiling to himself and moving his entire body to the rhythm as he plays. Swiss closes the door behind him and hangs by it, watching his mate all heart-eyed for the next few minutes. Only when the earth ghoul finishes up another song and pauses to check his phone does he look up and notice Swiss.

He chuckles, “How long have you been standing there?”

“A little bit.” The multi ghoul shrugs and makes his way over to the drum platform. “I like watching you play.”

“Creep,” Mountain teases before closing the remaining distance between him and his mate and wrapping his arms around him, sweat and all.  “Missed you.”

Swiss is immediately purring up a storm, nuzzling under Mountain’s cheek and breathing in the scent he loves so much. “Mhm, I missed you, too, my love.”

“Let’s get something to eat,” the earth ghoul proposes, “and then we can take a nap.”

“Okay, but…” Swiss sighs, “in a moment. Wanna stay like that just a minute more.”

“Of course, my heart.” Mountain smiles against his hair. “However long you need.”

Ideally, Swiss would never pull away. He would stay glued to his mate for eternity if he could. Alas, just standing there is neither comfortable nor really fun, so eventually he does. He grabs the earth ghoul’s hand instead and they go back to the den, talking about their day. Soon enough they reach the commons and head for the kitchen first.

“What do you want to eat, my love?” Swiss asks, already rummaging through some cabinets. Mountain hums as he trails a hand over the multi ghoul’s hip before he wraps his arms around his waist and glues himself to his back.

“You,” he rumbles, pressing a kiss under Swiss’ ear.

“Maybe later,” he laughs and turns in the other’s arms. “You can get a taste, though.”

Mountain would never deny, of course; he grabs Swiss’ chin and tips his head back gently to lick into his mouth with near reverence. The multi ghoul sighs into it, sagging in Mountain’s arms. He hooks his hands under Swiss’ thighs and picks him up to sit him on the counter before stepping in between his legs to get that much closer and kiss the breath out of his mate.

“So sweet,” he breathes between kisses, “could just–eat you up.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Swiss giggles, “but maybe some actual food first, hm?”

“Fine…” Mountain rolls his eyes as he pulls away, making his mate grin widely. The earth ghoul turns to the fridge and grabs a yogurt. “Want some, too?”

“Yeah, gimme.” He scoffs at Swiss’ grabby hands and pulls out another one before shutting the fridge. The multi ghoul is already waiting with two spoons.

They chat some more as they snack, spreading some Abbey gossip as two ghouls do. Soon enough the empty yogurt packets end up in the thrash and they move to the living room.

Mountain sits in a big armchair in the corner of the common room, sprawling himself out in the deep plush to get comfortable. Swiss plops himself in his mate’s lap once he gets the go-ahead and curls up against his chest, rubbing his nose up and down Mountain’s neck. 

“I love you,” He mutters. The earth ghoul kicks up a low, rumbly purr and wraps his arms around Swiss, holding him close.

“I love you, too.” Swiss starts his own purring and it is easy to fall asleep enveloped in the comfort of having each other so close.

Mountain has learned how to fight his anxiety relatively well long ago. It’s not something that can just be cured or gotten rid of, of course, but he manages it as well as one can.

But if you can’t get rid of something permanently, it will resurface every now and then.

The earth ghoul has always struggled with low self-esteem. He used to lack any confidence, always preferring to hide behind his drum kit.

It changed a lot over the years.

Mountain’s pack and Swiss helped him a great deal; proving every single day how kind, smart, beautiful, and most importantly loved he is. It took him years, but he finally believes it all and now he knows his worth.

But doubts creep back into his brain, sometimes.

That he’s not good enough, that he’s worthless, that he’s useless, that he’s a burden, that he’s unlovable. All lies, of course, but it’s hard to ignore a nagging voice inside one’s head repeating it all over and over again.

Whenever it does speak up, Mountain goes to Swiss.

Today has just been…rough for the earth ghoul and he finds himself in a not-so-good headspace around dinnertime. He had seen Swiss barely half an hour ago but he feels like spiraling and he knows he should not wait until he’s down there.

But on the other hand…Swiss is probably busy now, he can’t just go and bother him and–

No. Swiss loves him, he won’t–

Mountain squeezes his eyes as if it can get him rid of these awful thoughts and goes to find his mate before they change his mind and force him to hide.

It’s happened before, many times. There were times when he would panic so hard he would run to the woods, blend in with his element and not emerge for days—convinced nobody had even noticed he was gone.

They always did and they always looked for him.

He gets to the den, unsure if Swiss is there at first, but he catches his scent quickly. It leads him to their shared bedroom and Mountain tries to compose himself a little bit before knocking on the door and entering. Swiss is doing something by the closet—probably taking care of the freshly washed clothes.

“Hi, my love,” the multi ghoul grins as he sees him. He is always an image of pure joy when he sees him.

“Hey,” Mountain responds quietly, dragging his feet as he comes closer.

“What’s wrong?” Swiss asks, having immediately picked up on the sadness in his voice, the sour edge in his scent, and the slump of his shoulders.

“Nothing, can I just…” Mountain sighs and drags a hand down his face as his voice cracks, “can I get a hug?”

“Oh, baby,” the multi ghoul coos with a sad pout on his face, already coming towards him with open arms—all but running to comfort him, “of course you can, come here.”

Mountain melts the moment these strong and warm arms wrap around him. He sags in Swiss’ hold and hides his face in his neck. He can not hold back a dry little sob that breaks its way free at the newfound comfort.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Swiss mutters, “I’ve always got you.”

It doesn’t take long for the comfort of Swiss’ embrace to make Mountain’s tears fall. He lets out a choked sob and hides further in his mate’s neck.

They stand like that for a while; just being. The multi ghoul holds his mate close and sways them side to side a little, letting him cry out whatever it is that has been bothering him. He does not need to know, not if he can help without that knowledge.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he repeats, rubbing his back. “You’re alright.”

Moments like these always make Swiss think about how he has seen Mountain when they first met. A huge ghoul with a stoic presence and yet a kind smile.

He thought his name was fitting not only because of his height. He thought the earth ghoul was unshakable, unmovable.

Swiss was pleased to find out Mountain is all but the definition of a gentle giant.

“Do you want to move to the nest?” Swiss asks once he deems his mate calm enough to move. He nods into his neck and the multi ghoul kisses his hair before gently maneuvering them over to their nest without untangling their limbs. It is not very easy and they end up having to pull away at least for a second.

“Sorry, I’m–I’m a mess,” the earth ghoul mutters, wiping tears and snot from his face as Swiss gets comfortable against the headboard. He opens his arms again once he is settled. Mountain falls right back into his embrace.

“You’re my mess, baby,” Swiss chuckles and kisses his forehead before poking his nose with a finger, making him giggle wetly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

Mountain cuddles up to Swiss’ side with his head over his heart and their hands clasped together. Their tails wrap around each other, too; Swiss’ tapping lightly against the mattress as he purrs. It relaxes the earth ghoul and he can feel the tension leaving him as he gets heavier against him.

Mountain is half asleep when Swiss speaks again. He does that on purpose; knowing that as sleepy as he is, the earth ghoul will not argue.

“You’re the smartest, kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Swiss tells him. Mountain can only listen and breathe softly into his neck. “You give my life meaning, I love you so much it hurts sometimes and I need you, my love. I’m a part of you and the best part of me is you, Mountain. I don’t know what your brain was telling you earlier, but whatever it is, you know it’s not true and I’ll spend years proving it to you, okay? Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

It may not be so easy to believe all that Swiss is saying right away, but the one thing Mountain will never dare doubt is the multi ghoul’s devotion to making him believe.

He nods weakly in agreement just before he falls asleep in his arms.

Swiss always feared that retirement was going to bore him to death.

What would he do with his time? Stuck in the Abbey all year long with no opportunities to travel and have fun, really? How would he—a creature that lived on the adrenaline that playing shows all over the world provided—survive not touring? Sure, he would have his mate and his pack and they could play together in the rehearsal room as much as they wanted, but it would not be the same without both exhaustion and excitement of the real thing.

The multi ghoul could not see a point in living like this and he was scared.

He did not think he would be able to return to his old life after getting a taste of something bigger. He has spent countless nights worrying and coaxing himself into pointless panic attacks.

Now that the time to leave the Ghost project behind has come, Swiss realizes it may not be so bad.

Sure, it has only been a few months—no more than some breaks they had between touring—and he already feels a hole in his heart that is never fully going to get filled. But it is not so bad.

He thinks he has Mountain to thank for that.

When touring was the only thing for him, he used to think life would lose all meaning without it, but now it is Mountain that is Swiss’ life. He’s not scared anymore because he has his mate.

His life is full even though a big chunk of it was ripped away.

It’s slower now. They can sleep in every single day if they wish. They can go for week-long walks into the woods. They can do anything they want, really.

The only thing that matters is that Swiss and Mountain are together.

Mountain does not really miss touring—having had more than enough of it—but he doesn’t consider it all bad memories. Quite the opposite; all these years going around the world with his pack are the best of his long life. He misses the good moments, both on and off stage.

That is why he never declines when the pack asks him to join them in jamming out like the old times. It always feels good to climb his platform and sit behind his fancy drum kit again, to overlook the rest of the musicians as they run and jump around the stage.

Just like the old times.

They all still play a lot, but it is usually on their own, in their bedrooms. Each of them also spends a lot of time teaching both their instruments and elements to the new generation of ghouls summoned to continue the Ghost project.

Dewdrop—to everyone’s surprise—seems to have found his calling as a teacher; he loves it, and both he and his pupils are doing exceptionally well.

Aether and Aeon are switching between teaching the new quintessence ghoul guitar and quintessence, introducing them to the infirmary already.

Rain and the new water ghoul spend as much time in the lake as over their basses, just like Mountain with his pupil in the greenhouse and behind their drums.

The ghoulettes are—as always—rather secretive about their doings, but the old one’s voices can often be heard overlapping with the new trio’s.

Even Swiss has a pupil—a multi ghoul as chaotic and joyful as he is; perfect fit for replacing him.

But sometimes their pack meets in the rehearsal room purely for their own enjoyment.

Mountain turns to the right and relies solely on his muscle memory as he watches his mate on his platform—dancing and singing and laughing and playing. It hurts him sometimes, the fact that even if he does not, Swiss clearly misses it. Mountain would let him tour for decades if he only could, even if he would not go with him. He wishes he could give that to him.

Swiss looks at it differently now.

Yes, he misses touring terribly, but he does not regret being forced to retire. His life Topside until now was full of…everything, really, and now it’s time to tone it down, to go slower.

The rest of his life is for Mountain and he could not be happier about that.

They all get lost in the music again. All of them, Dewdrop, Rain, Aeon, Aether, Cirrus, Cumulus, Aurora, Sunshine, Swiss, and Mountain.

The ghoulettes are all dancing on two platforms, holding hands as they fill the room with the beautiful sound of their combined voices. Dewdrop keeps chucking picks at Aether. Aeon leans against Rain, nuzzling up to him like a car.

Swiss seems alone, but it could not be further from the truth. In that moment he feels less alone than ever.

Mountain can only smile and thank Lucifer for sending all these amazing ghouls his way when life was rough.

For sending Swiss his way when life was rough.

Their fun ends too soon, with the entire pack exhausted, but content. They slowly filter out of the room, thanking each other for the amazing time they had.

“Did you have fun, my love?” Swiss asks, coming up the platform behind his mate.

“I did,” Mountain sighs as the multi ghoul drapes himself over his back, not minding the sweat dripping off of him. “Did you?”

“You know it, baby,” he laughs. Mountain hums before turning on his stool and sweeps Swiss off of his feet. He yelps as he ends up in his mate’s lap with his arms around his neck. They both laugh like they are the happiest people in the entire universe.

They are the happiest people in the entire universe.

Mountain leans in to rest his forehead against Swiss’, knocking their horns together. They close their eyes and breathe the same air for a moment.

Despite all the little things they miss, their life could not be more perfect.

Swiss does not think his nightmares will ever go away. They have become less frequent over the years since he has been summoned, but once in a while—when he least expects it—something will hit him again. The less often they happen, the more frightening they are, though, and sometimes it takes the multi ghoul as much as a week to recover.

He wakes up gasping and sweating bullets for the first time in a few months and his first instinct is to blindly pat around for Mountain. He finds him, of course, and lets out a shaky breath of relief as he grabs his limp hand, but the dream still leaves him unsettled. The earth ghoul shifts in his sleep after being smacked a few times, but does not wake up.

Swiss was all alone again. Alone and cold in the Pit, but not like it was before he got summoned. He was alone then, yes, but he was also clueless. This time he was left with memories, knowing he had a pack and a happy life that suddenly was gone. Lacking and missing something is so much worse when you know exactly what you have lost. He felt like he was never going to experience the warmth of being loved again and it was horrible.

But he is awake now. He is awake and Mountain is right there.

Swiss stares at his mate; watching his chest rise and fall rhythmically and his nose twitch. It’s completely dark in their room, but his water part allows him to see well anyway. Mountain looks so peaceful and the multi ghoul’s heart feels like it is about to burst with the amount of love he has for him in it.

At some point the earth ghoul turns onto his side and unconsciously reaches out for Swiss, flopping an arm over his lap. He chuckles wetly and lays back down to snuggle into Mountain’s chest, his face slotted right over his heart. The tears that have been lingering in his eyes fall when his mate’s warmth envelopes him; falling in cold drops onto Mountain’s skin. This and Swiss’ heart pounding against him wakes him up.

“S’iss…’r you okay?” he slurs, all syrupy with sleep as he nuzzles into his hair.

“Yeah, baby. You’re here, I’m okay.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Swiss sighs, cuddling up even closer. Mountain wraps his own arms tighter around him.

“I’m here,” he assures. The multi ghoul nods and tries to focus on his mate’s heartbeat and go back to sleep, but he can not quite shake off the fear that the dream has filled him with. 

What if it is his future? What if he will be sent back before others? What if they will be sent back together but won’t manage to find each other? What if it will all be different and everyone gets sent back but him? Being alone Topside would be as bad as being alone in the Pit.

The worst part of his dreams is always that they are not completely unrealistic.

He sits up again, thinking Mountain has managed to fall back asleep and intending to just stare at him for the rest of the night and assure his brain all is fine. The earth ghoul did not, though, and he rises with Swiss.

“Wanna talk about it or just…be?” he asks as he intertwines their fingers.

“I don’t know, I just–didn’t have that one in a while and it got me all messed up.”

“I understand, my heart.” Mountain kisses his forehead and adjusts them, all but manhandling Swiss so he is in his lap, curled up smaller than it should be possible considering his actual size. “It’s okay, I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

He is, but…their family is bigger than the two of them.

“Do you, uh–do you think we could go check on the others?” 

“Yeah,” the earth ghoul mutters, “yeah, of course.”

Swiss nods with gratitude and crawls out of their nest. He grips Mountain’s hand tightly as they leave their room and go down the corridor, intending to check their packmates’ bedrooms one by one. Mountain pauses before they can open Rain’s door, though, and his ear flicks.

“What is it?”

“Let’s go to the common room,” the earth ghoul says without actual explanation, but Swiss trusts him. He trusts him more than he trusts himself, so they do indeed go to the common room. Swiss looks with an anxious stare at each door they pass without checking, but Mountain just drags him along; albeit gently.

When they reach the commons Swiss understands.

Their whole pack is there, cuddled up in one big pile on the floor lined with tons of bedding. They are all snoring away, tangled in a way that makes it impossible to really notice where one ghoul ends and the other begins. Dewdrop is curled in a little ball on Aether’s chest; his face shoved between the other’s pecs. Rain is on his side, snuggled up to the two with his tail wrapped around the fire ghoul’s leg. Aeon is spooning Rain and drooling into his hair. Aurora is laying perpendicularly to him; her legs are thrown over the quintessence ghoul’s middle. Her head is resting on Cumulus’ stomach while Cirrus’ head is in the crook of her neck. Sunshine is sprawled half on top of them two.

The multi ghoul smiles and kisses Mountain in a way that expresses more than words ever could. He understands.

“Do you want to join them or get back to our room?” The earth ghoul asks.

“Here…” Swiss mutters, “but you don’t have to, your back will–”

“I’ll stay. I’ll always stay.”

Swiss doesn’t have it in himself to disagree; he nods and finds a spot where he and Mountain can lay down with the others. They slot in perfectly right next to Aether and the moment they get comfortable someone’s—most likely Dewdrop’s—tail drapes itself over them.

“You will never be alone again, my heart,” the earth ghoul whispers, kissing Swiss right below his ear. “No matter what happens, we will always be together.”

A couple of years into their retirement, Mountain and Swiss start to fantasize about having a space that would really be their own. Moving out of the Abbey isn’t an option. Not because of the Clergy’s control or some binding magic. Well, not unless the bond between a pack is considered magic, but truth be told it’s as close as it gets.

They simply don’t want to leave their family.

They would hate being unable to see them at least every other day, being unable to have cuddle piles; they would miss them terribly, even if they would not travel far. They are older now, though—especially Mountain—and the chaos is sometimes too much. That is why they started thinking of their options.

The Ministry’s grounds are big.

Swiss and Mountain share not only the element of earth in their cores, but also deep love for it, and when they are offered by the Clergy—or rather Copia himself, always the one to spoil his ghouls—to be provided with supplies to build a house in the woods, they accept without a second thought.

They begin planning immediately.

They have to have a little patio to drink tea in the mornings and to lounge with a book or guitar on. They need a big kitchen to cook and bake together as much as their hearts might desire. There must be a speaker system all over so they can have music they so love surrounding them at all times. Their bed has to be big and sturdy for…obvious reasons.

Thankfully both Mountain and Swiss are good at drawing.

They spend hours online, looking for inspiration and appliances they are going to need. They plan and draw everything, spilling their shared dreams onto paper.

Once it is all done, they insist they can do it all by themselves, but Copia does not agree. Not because he does not trust them, but because he loves them so much he only wants the best for them—he hires an actual architect and construction team for them.

It does not dull their excitement to bring their drawings to life; only now they are sure their house will last years. And they still do participate in the process, of course, but while the professionals are working on their cabin, Swiss and Mounty focus more on its surroundings.

They must have a garden, too.

They divide the space around the house into three parts and surround it all with magical hedge to keep away animals that might want to steal some of the things they plan on growing. The middle part they leave empty—apart from some flowers just to keep it in their style—to later on equip with chairs, tables, a swing, and anything that they might come up with that would make it a place that one wants to spend time in.

The other two parts are divided into growing fruit, vegetables, and even some grain. Whatever is possible, and considering Mountain’s power it is a lot.

Swiss and Mountain are standing there one evening, holding each other in a place that will soon be their patio, after the construction team has already left. They watch the sunset; sky painted oranges and pinks just behind the house that is steadily growing. It is as if Lucifer is congratulating them on the peaceful life that is just around the corner.

“We should get a cat,” Swiss hums into the space below Mountain’s jaw.

“What?” the other laughs quietly, slightly surprised by the proposition.

“Yeah, like a little kitten. They’re so cute.”

Mountain thinks about it. Yes, they are cute and now that they are about to have their own little home it would be precious to have something—someone—to raise there. They can not have kits Topside, so a pet would be the next best thing.

“Yeah, we should,” he mutters after a moment. Swiss pulls away and looks up at his mate, beaming. “What? Were you joking?”

“No, I just didn’t think you’d agree,” he giggles and stands on his tiptoes to kiss the earth ghoul. “I want a little calico girl.”

“Whatever you want is yours, my heart,” Mountain whispers and brings his mate closer. Swiss purrs at his warmth and he knows the earth ghoul means it; Mountain would bring the stars down from the sky and rip out his own veins to wrap them in if that would be Swiss’ wish.

The building of their house takes just short of a year. The final step is, of course, furnishing and decorating it, and the pair invite their family to help with that. The younger ghouls may not be aware, but in the Pit there is a certain tradition regarding couples that mate and leave the pack to live on their own. The pack or packs that the ghouls come out of build shelter for them to live in as a sign of the claim they still have on them. Not a possessive, objectifying one, but an affectionate one. It is simply extending the whole pack’s protection over the ghoul’s mate and their potential future kits.

That tradition is not cultivated by ghouls that get summoned Topside, and it would be especially senseless considering how unusual Swiss and Mountain’s pack and life is. So they come up with their own version.

Each ghoul of their family has a part of their cabin to decorate as they see fit.

It ends up being a patchwork style that would absolutely horrify any professional designer, but Mountain and Swiss could not be happier with how it all turned out.

Once their house is ready to move into, they walk into the fresh space and stand in the middle of it with proud smiles. They did it and it is not only their house now; it is their home.

“I think we should…initiate it,” Swiss says after a moment of just taking it in.

“As in…baptize?”

“Well, yeah, but I wouldn’t say that’s the right word for what I have in mind.”

“Oh…oh.”

The little kitten held against Swiss’ chest seems to agree as she meows loudly.

One of the things that have become a habit for Swiss and Mountain is their little kitchen dates—Mountain baking while Swiss cooks next to him.

They have them often, now that they have so much time to spare on their hands, and it never gets old or boring.

 They plan their whole day in advance, prepare their recipes and make a list of groceries they need to get. Most of the ingredients Swiss needs to make dinner can be found in their garden, and most of the ingredients Mountain needs to bake dessert can be found in the pantry they have worked years on supplying. For anything else they make a trip to a local grocery store, holding hands and mirroring the smiles older ladies send their way.

A spacious kitchen with a lot of working space was one of the priorities when they were planning their cabin; they needed space to be able to cook side by side comfortably. Besides, the two-in-one living room and kitchen turned out to be the place they spend most of their time, followed closely by their bedroom and the outside.

Both Swiss and Mountain are usually clean about their cooking and baking—that is until one of them starts a food fight. They each have their favored bowls and spoons and dishes and rags. They have a silent agreement about the division of the counter, too, but that one blurs more often than not.

The pair prepare everything; they wash the vegetables and eggs, measure the dry and wet ingredients separately, and pick out all the utensils they’ll need. The last step is putting on their matching aprons they got as a gift. They switch them sometimes, but usually Swiss wears the one saying big spoon, while Mountain’s says little spoon.

They always have music on put through the speakers scattered all over; the type depending on their mood. Sometimes it is quieter, sometimes they turn it into a full blown cooking party with the music loud and their dancing energetic.

Today, though, they are enjoying the peace of it; they are humming to the soft music Swiss put on, swaying their hips as they work. 

“How’s it going for you, my love?” Swiss asks, bumping his hip into Mountain. He looks over his arm into the bowl clutched between his hands and hums, unable to recognize what it is that his mate is working on.

“Alright,” Mountain says. “It’ll need a moment to rise before I bake it.”

“You won’t tell me what it is?” the multi ghoul whines jokingly, poking his mate’s arm with his horns.

“Nope,” he giggles, “you’ll see.”

“Fineee…” Swiss is not one to accept such mortifying defeat without a fight, though. He turns back to his own station and waits for Mountain to let down his guard before he strikes; shoving his fingers into one of the other bowls and pulling back with them covered in some kind of cream.

“Swiss!” Mountain throws his arms up; acting offended even though it’s a regular occurrence. “You menace!”

The multi ghoul only giggles as he skitters away to lick the cream off of his hand out of the other’s reach. It is sweet and kind of fluffy; that is probably what Mountain was beating the eggs for earlier. It’s delicious and Swiss tell his mate as much.

Mountain shakes his head and huffs as he goes right for Swiss’ own cooking and dips a finger in a warming up sauce in Swiss’ favorite green pan.

“Oh, you!” he laughs and walks up to him to wrap his arms around his waist from behind. The earth ghoul can not even pretend he is mad at him when Swiss kicks up a low purr and nuzzles his face against Mountain’s back. He can't help but set everything down and turn around to steal a kiss from his mate, too.

Thankfully nothing on the stove needs urgent attention; they can take their time loving on each other during their little break. They hear a little meow behind them and they pull away to look at someone who loves interrupting.

“Hi yourself,” Swiss laughs, turning to their cat Aira. He reaches out for her and she nuzzles her little fuzzy head into his palm. Mountain shakes his head but he can not deny their little lady is so adorable it is impossible to deny her affection. He comes closer, picks her up, and immediately brings her to his chest.

“Cat thief!” Swiss accuses. Mountain only shrugs; it can not be denied.

Aira is purring loudly all relaxed in the earth ghoul’s arms as he hops onto the clean end of the counter. Swiss mutters something about unfairness under his breath as he returns to his cooking, stirring something and poking a finger in to taste it.

He focuses on and gets lost in it all over again and Mountain watches him intently despite his attention seemingly being focused on the cat. He is not in a rush; his dough has to rest anyway. The earth ghoul is grinning at his mate by the time the alarm he set goes off and he has to put Aira down and get back to work.

In the evening they eat what they made, sitting on the opposite ends of a small table that’s just barely wide enough to fit their plates. They devour the meal so carefully and lovingly prepared by the multi ghoul; Mountain always praises the food and Swiss himself to the heavens. Not long after, Swiss does the same to Mountain and his dessert as he picks every single crumb from his plate and licks the cream off of his fingers.

Providing for each other is one of the love languages they share and love indulging and it fills them with more and more affection every single time; until they feel like they are about to burst with it. That is a part of the reason why every single one of their kitchen dates ends up the same—with them making love in a significantly different way than cooking for each other; kneading something else than pasta or cake dough.

When you have someone you love by your side, time goes by simultaneously slow and fast. It is slow when you look into your beloved’s eyes and get lost in them, when you enjoy every single second spent with them. But at the same time no amount of time feels enough. No matter how many years you have spent with the one you love, it will never be enough—in that way it all moves too fast.

It is different for ghouls; for any being that is considered immortal. Nothing can really come to an end for them and while living forever may feel like a terrible sentence, it does not have to be.

Swiss and Mountain are not afraid of eternity.

For them it is a gift. Not many have the chance of never running out of time. So many humans do and it is something neither Mountain nor Swiss can even imagine experiencing.

The curse of humanity is a horrible one.

They know how lucky they are and even though the ghouls being demons are called the damned ones, it could not be more wrong a description when it comes to Swiss and Mountain.

They are the blessed ones.

They have lived a big, full life already and there is still so much waiting for them.

The bonds of their pack loosen a little over time, mates distancing themselves to focus on each other—it is a natural way of things, even for a pack as unusual as theirs. Most of them stay in the Abbey—they of course spend more time together—but those who don't, hear from each other every few weeks and meet ever less often.

It is a little sad, if you think about it, considering all that they have been through together over the years.

But again, it’s different for ghouls.

They aren’t tied to one lifetime; they have multiple, and they divide them fairly.

Ghouls do not die. When—and if—they or somebody else decides their life Topside must come to an end, they simply turn into ash. Their spirits, something we could call a soul, retire back to the Pits, to the very place they were summoned from. Down there it is as if they never left, but their minds and hearts know otherwise. They are filled with memories and affections of what was and with them they continue their endless existence in Hell. It is not torment, it is not eternal damnation.

Not if they can find the one they linked their soul to.

When the time comes—whether it be tens, hundreds or thousands of years—Swiss and Mountain will find each other again. One single day they will spend apart; not more, not less.

And maybe they will find others, too.

Rain and Dewdrop, who will have left earlier to rid the water ghoul of the pain tied to his mortal vessel. The ghoulettes, all four of them, who will have enjoyed what the human world has to offer for as long as it is enjoyable. Aether and Aeon, not mated, but linked by something as strong; a brotherly bond like no other.

Maybe they will find older ghouls also. Alpha and Omega, Zephyr and Ifrit, Mist and Delta, maybe even Chain himself. Maybe the Emeritus brothers will be there, too, if the old rumors of them being favored in such a way by Lucifer turn out to be true.

For now, it is all a mystery; a riddle that is not to be solved for centuries or millennia. There is only one certainty in all of it.

Swiss and Mountain will always be together.

[suzukiblu]

Parasite WIP is so good and I desperately want more of it! I voted for it in the poll and I’m so sad it didn’t win

Friend, I appreciate you asking after it because it really is one of my fucked-up faves that I really need to work on more, so uh . . . have all 4500 words of the prose so far all together, hahaha. Yes, yes I DID reformat this whole thing into Tumblr-friendliness all for you. THAT IS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOUR APPRECIATION, FRIEND. ( so definitely we are gonna need that read-more down there, lol. )

Clark wakes up. 

Clark didn't even know he wasn't awake. 

"Superman," Bruce says with absolute neutrality. He's wearing the cowl. Standing in rubble. Clark is . . . not standing in rubble. 

Laying in rubble. That's what Clark is doing. 

Bruce is looking down at him very, very carefully, and seems . . . reserved. 

Reserved for Bruce, even. 

"What happened?" Clark asks, trying not to concentrate on the little seed of dread that the sight of that reservation invokes in him. He can hear the heartbeats of other League members, here and there in the wreckage of the street around them. Hear civilians and city noise. Hear Lois and Jon, distantly, and Ma and Pa, even more distant. And . . . Kara–both of her–and . . . 

"We'll go with 'electrocution', but I think we can safely say just about anyone else would've been virtually incinerated," Bruce informs him, distracting Clark from his mental rundown of people he's currently worried about. "Or just exploded."

"Ah," Clark says with a grimace. Well, that explains why his head hurts so damn bad, he guesses.

At least it was him, then, and not any "anyone else"s. 

He pushes himself up. Looks around. He . . . isn't sure where they are, exactly, except that it's probably somewhere on Earth and within the continental United States, judging by the architecture and signs he's seeing and the accents and languages he's hearing. 

He has absolutely no idea how they got here, though. The last thing he remembers is . . . 

. . . he's not actually sure what the last thing he remembers is. 

Not a great sign, that.  

Bruce is watching him. Like he's . . . expecting something, almost. Clark would ask, but there's an odd feeling distracting him. Something's . . . off, somehow. 

Missing. 

Bruce's utility belt is a new design, he notes absently. J'onn is down the street a bit and his costume looks a little different too. And Diana . . . 

Diana is over across the way, and her hair is a couple inches longer than he remembers it being. 

Clark would assume he was mistaken, except for the eidetic memory and all. 

"Hm," Clark says. 

"Hm?" Bruce says. He still sounds faultlessly neutral. 

"Trying to figure out if I'm in the right reality. Things look a little off," Clark replies, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in concentration. No unexpected sounds or scents. No particular feeling of disorientation that can't be accounted for by being apparently electrocuted. No additional pains past the dull pressure in his head or any immediately obvious peculiarities beyond the minor little scattered differences here and there in his teammates. 

But something is–

"I can't hear Kon," Clark realizes abruptly. He doesn't usually especially keep an ear out for the kid, at least not deliberately, but . . . 

Bruce . . . pauses. 

"You can't," he says, very carefully. It doesn't sound like a question. 

It sounds like something, though. 

"I can't," Clark confirms anyway, glancing around again. He still doesn't know where this is. "Where are we, exactly?" 

"What's the date, Kal?" Bruce asks, and Clark's heart sinks. 

He answers the question. 

Bruce's mouth thins. 

Hell, Clark thinks. 

"We're currently in Keystone City," Bruce says, very carefully expressionless. "We've been here for three days. The date you just provided me was a full fourteen months ago. And Kon-El has been MIA for roughly thirteen and a half of those months." 

Hell, Clark thinks, and doesn't let himself process anything past that. 

"We need to get a scan of your brain," Bruce says. "For starters." 

"For starters," Clark agrees tightly. 

Bruce tells Diana they're leaving, then abandons the rubble and takes Clark up to the Watchtower. Clark goes. He doesn't ask what electrocuted him or who's died in the past fourteen months or if there's anything immediately urgent that he should know. Bruce would've already told him, if there was. 

And he thinks he'd choke on the question if he tried, anyway. 

They go to the med bay. There's a total stranger standing in it who smiles at them when they step through the door. 

"Haven't seen you in here in quite a while, Superman," the stranger observes in amusement, tapping a pen against the clipboard in their hands. "You still haven't been in for that checkup I owe you, you know." 

"He doesn't know you," Bruce informs them evenly. The stranger blinks. 

"Sorry?" they say. 

"He was electrocuted," Bruce says. "Now he thinks it's fourteen months ago. We need a brain scan. Immediately." 

"Hell," the stranger says, their eyes widening in alarm. 

Clark gets the brain scan. 

He and Bruce wait in a convenient exam room for the results, which seem to be taking a while. Bruce seems a bit more guarded than usual, which means Clark is standing next to goddamn Fort Knox right now. He sighs to himself. 

"Suppose at this rate I should call and tell Lois and Jon I'll be late for dinner," he jokes wryly as he folds his arms, no real humor in the comment, and Bruce goes very, very still beside him. 

. . . hell. 

They're not dead. He knows they're not dead, he heard their heartbeats before they left for the watchtower, Bruce would've already told him if either of them were–

"They aren't expecting you," Bruce says with absolutely no intonation whatsoever in his voice. "You moved out eight months ago. The divorce is already finalized." 

"Ah," Clark says, very slowly. He doesn't let himself process, again. Not–just, not yet. "What happened?" 

"You left them," Bruce says, and Clark . . . blinks. 

"I left them?!" he demands incredulously. Leaving Lois is one thing, horrible and impossible a thought as it is, but– "Not just–I left them both?!"

"As you explained it to me, you were no longer interested in maintaining the . . . 'persona' of Clark Kent," Bruce replies carefully, looking just past him. "You said you couldn't stand the screaming anymore. That you appreciated us . . . humoring you for so long, but you couldn't just keep walking around making excuses and lying to everyone while people were suffering and dying just because you had to pretend to be human for a while. So yes. You left them. Haven't visited since Lois finally signed the divorce papers. Haven't spoken to your parents either. You've been . . . erratic. Since Kon-El's disappearance. When we couldn't find him . . . when we couldn't even find out what happened to him . . ." 

"Oh," Clark says, and his heart sinks again. 

He doesn't understand, though. Kon is–he cares about the kid, obviously. Cares very deeply about him. He's pretty sure he even loves him, at this point. But he's not . . . 

It feels terrible to think it, but Clark doesn't understand why Kon disappearing like that would affect him enough to stop being Clark. It's awful, and he still hasn't let himself actually think about it happening at all because he really can't process it right now, but that awful? Really? Awful enough to abandon being any semblance of a normal person? Abandon Lois and his parents entirely? 

Abandon Jon entirely? 

Apparently, yes. 

"Technically you're on unpaid sabbatical from the Planet," Bruce tells him. "We thought you might . . . reconsider, once you'd grieved properly, so Lois pulled some strings with Perry White. He thinks you're having an early mid-life crisis and your co-workers think you're off finding yourself in South America with a bad cell phone plan." 

"I guess I don't believe in satellite phones?" Clark says, trying for wry again. It doesn't work, but he tries all the same. 

"This is unfair of me, but I'm going to take advantage of your current mental state," Bruce says. He's looking at the wall, though there's nothing there to actually be looking at. Not even anything on the other side, at least not according to X-ray vision. "Try to remember how you feel right now, when your memories of the past year return. Try to remember who you are right now, when those memories return."

"Why?" Clark asks, watching him carefully as he does. The corners of Bruce's mouth tighten. Just barely, but undeniably. 

"You've been . . . gone, Clark," Bruce says slowly. "You won't even answer to 'Clark' anymore. You aren't the same man that I . . . that we all . . ." 

The stranger comes back before Bruce has to admit to too many personal feelings or Clark can figure out what to say to any of that, which might be a mercy but might also be–

The stranger looks . . . strange, Clark notices. Nauseated, almost. And definitely distressed. 

"I haven't done brain scans on Superman before," they say, their grip on their clipboard concerningly close to white-knuckled. "And my predecessor apparently hadn't done any in a while either. Last ones in the system are over two years old." 

"What's wrong?" Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. Honestly at this point Clark figures a kryptonite brain tumor would really just be the icing on the cake, and frankly would probably explain some of his apparent behavioral changes and current memory loss. That genuinely makes more sense than anything else, really, even with grief and guilt to contend with.

More sense than abandoning his own damn kid does, at least. 

Although a tumor's the worst-case scenario, obviously. And it can't be any worse than that, really, or any worse than anything he's apparently done to his family this past year, so at least he's braced for–

"There's an . . . organism," the stranger says, swallowing uncomfortably. "In your brain." 

"What?" Clark says. 

"A dead organism, now," the stranger clarifies. "But it looks like it's been there for a while. There are . . . roots. And . . . lesions, too." 

"An organism," Bruce repeats very, very slowly. "In Superman's brain." 

"Yes," the stranger says. 

"I don't . . ." Clark trails off. 

"We need more scans," Bruce says. 

"I ran it four times on two different machines," the stranger says. "It's organic. It's not giving off any recognizable life signs. It seems like it might've been . . . you mentioned electrocution, before?" 

"You think the electricity killed it," Bruce realizes. "And then Superman forgot fourteen months?" 

"I'm not sure Superman ever experienced those fourteen months to begin with," the stranger says tightly, gripping their clipboard even harder. 

Clark was in no way whatsoever braced for this. 

"Fuck," Bruce says. 

More scans happen after all. A lot more scans, a lot of specialists, and a lot of arguing. Everything's a bit of a blur, in a sense. Clark absorbs very little of it, and mostly leaves things to Bruce unless he's asked a direct question about his medical history. His judgment might be compromised right now, after all, whether the . . . organism is dead or not. 

The emergency OR gets prepped. The red sun lamps get set up inside it. 

"Should we contact Lois?" Bruce asks as Clark's shrugging into an ill-fitting hospital gown and preparing himself to possibly die in pursuit of getting a dead who-knows-what out of his brain before it can start to rot there and potentially kill him that way. "Or your parents?" 

"No," Clark says. "Just get this damn thing out of my head." 

If he doesn't survive the removal process . . . 

They don't know what's been going on. What he let happen to himself, somehow.

He isn't going to tell them he's back just to immediately take himself away again. 

He records something for Jon, just in case. It's not enough, but it's–something, he tells himself. It's something. 

It's all he can bring himself to do. 

He leaves the disk with the recording on it with Bruce and asks him to have Dick deliver it, if it's necessary. 

Things proceed from there, and Clark wakes up again a week later in a private room in the med bay, connected to half a dozen machines and needles and tubes and directly facing the sun. Diana is dozing in the chair next to his bed. Bruce is pacing at the foot of it. They're both in costume. Clark feels weak and groggy, but he can hear half a dozen other heartbeats lingering in the hall, so presumably they were expecting him to wake up around now. 

"Mm," he says. Diana snaps awake. Bruce stops mid-step. 

They both look at him. 

"The operation was a success," Bruce informs him. "Textbook. Or as textbook as removing a mind-controlling parasite of unknown origins from a Kryptonian brain can get for mostly-human surgeons, anyway." 

"Do you need anything?" Diana asks. "Would you like us to call your family yet?" 

Clark shakes his head, then closes his eyes and sleeps for another week. 

"Sleep", he supposes, counts as something that he needs right now. 

The next time he wakes up, he's alone in his room and disconnected from the machines and just feels . . . normal, really. Like nothing was ever wrong at all and he didn't just have major surgery that was, essentially, the equivalent of multiple traumatic brain injuries. His hair is already starting to grow back from where it was buzzed down for the surgery, and there's not even any bandages on his head. 

There's no noticeable scarring, Clark observes when he makes it to the little ensuite bathroom to take a look in the mirror. The surgeons told him there probably wouldn't be, given both the methods they'd been intending to use and the nature of his own physiology, but seeing the total lack of proof of what happened to him is just . . . strange, somehow. 

It feels almost like a cheat. Like it should be obvious, in some way. 

There was a parasite in his head. Something controlling him. Pretending to be him. Passing for him. It could've done anything it wanted. 

It did do things that Clark still has no idea about. 

So many things. 

He couldn't even fight it. Wasn't conscious or aware enough to, or just not strong enough to, or just . . . 

He couldn't even fight it. 

And he doesn't know what it did. 

The door opens. Diana walks in. 

"Would you like us to call your family now?" she asks. 

"Yes," Clark says roughly, curling his fingers around the sides of the sink in front of him. "Please." 

"Of course," Diana says with a terrible and merciless gentleness. 

Clark sits down on the lid of the toilet and just . . . cries. Just for a minute. 

Or twenty. 

Diana kneels in front of him and holds his hands in her own. 

Fourteen months, Clark thinks, all twisted up with grief and pain and so, so much regret. He missed so much. He wasn't there for Jon or Lois or his parents. He wasn't there for Bruce or Diana or the League, for either of Kara, for . . . 

For Kon. He wasn't there for Kon. 

Wasn't there for Kon when the kid needed him. 

Kon completely vanished, and who knows if the damn parasite even pretended to help look for him? If it did anything at all for him? Who knows if Clark could've found him, could've saved him, if he'd still been himself at the time? 

. . . who knows if the parasite isn't what made Kon disappear to begin with? 

It took fourteen months of Clark's life, and Kon . . . Kon disappeared two weeks into those fourteen months. 

If nothing else, the timing is a screaming red flag. 

Clark abandoned his son and might've murdered a kid who only ever looked up to him, a kid who he was never really able to fully understand but literally named, and he can't do anything to bring Kon back or to make up for the year that he wasn't there for the rest of his family. 

Their family. 

God, what has he done? What has Clark done, and did Kon die feeling afraid or shocked or terrified? Did he die feeling betrayed? Did he think it was Clark doing it, however it happened? 

Did he die thinking Clark wanted him to die? 

Clark doesn't even know what happened to his body. 

There won't be another resurrection.  

Clark chokes. Diana squeezes his hands. He grips hers like a lifeline and shudders through it. The grief is a terrible, ugly thing. It's one of the worst things Clark's ever felt. 

The guilt is worse. 

"Lois," he murmurs finally, feeling like the weakest man alive. "Could you call . . . Lois, please, and just . . . ask if she'll come. I'll explain it all to her, just–could you call her, please." 

"Yes," Diana says, squeezing his hands again. "Of course." 

"Thank you," Clark says. 

He pulls himself together, more or less, and Diana goes to make the call. She comes back a few minutes later and tells him Lois agreed, but needs to find a babysitter first. Clark in no way blames her for not bringing Jon along and frankly is surprised she's willing to come at all. 

He's not sure what he could even say to Jon right now. 

What can he? 

Diana makes sure he eats something, then leaves for monitor duty. Clark tries not to overthink things. Tries not to think too much at all. 

He spent fourteen months not thinking at all, though, all of it lost in one oblivious blink, so that doesn't work out all that well for him. 

An hour later, he hears the Zeta platform activate on the opposite side of the base, and hears Lois's heartbeat appear inside the watchtower. 

Clark exhales, very slowly. 

He waits. 

Lois comes to the med bay. She doesn't stop to talk to anyone on the way. Doesn't talk to anyone except that stranger Clark still doesn't actually know the name of, who tells her where to find him. 

And then a minute or a millennium later she's standing in the open doorway of his room, and Clark is looking at her. Her expression is neutral, and her hair is shorter than it was the last time he remembers seeing her–the last time he was the one actually seeing her. An inverse bob, not shoulder-length anymore. He recognizes the blazer and heels that she's wearing, but not the blouse or the pants. Not the earrings or the necklace, either. 

And there's no wedding ring to recognize either way. 

Clark wonders what happened to his. 

God, but she's still the most amazing woman he's ever seen, and he's still never once deserved a single part of her. Not even a fraction of a part. 

Especially not now. 

"Kal," she greets, tone just as neutral as her expression, and Clark aches. 

"Clark," he says, just a little too abrupt, and Lois–pauses. 

"Clark," she amends casually as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her blazer, and if he didn't know her quite so well he wouldn't have even heard the crack in her voice around his name, super-hearing or not. "Never seen your hair this short. I kinda miss the curl, not gonna lie. It has charm, you know? Very boy scout next door." 

"I had emergency brain surgery," Clark says. Lois pauses again. Tilts her head. He keeps talking. "Two weeks ago, now. Just woke up again fully today." 

"What?" she says, just staring at him. "You–what happened?" 

"It's . . . unclear, still," Clark replies slowly. "But as far as we can tell, roughly fourteen months back an unidentified alien parasite moved into my brain and . . . took me over, essentially. I don't actually–I don't remember any of that time. At all. Then two weeks ago I got electrocuted in Keystone and the parasite died. The surgery was to remove its body so my brain could heal from the damage it did without it rotting in there." 

Lois keeps staring at him. 

"Fourteen months," she echoes very, very carefully. 

"I'm so sorry," Clark says tightly. "Bruce told me I left you. Left you and Jon. That I stopped being . . . myself. I can't imagine how difficult that was, or how it must've felt." 

"I can't imagine how waking up and hearing that none of us even noticed you were gone felt," Lois says. 

"You never do pull a punch, do you," Clark says with a weak attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," Lois says evenly. "I should've known." 

"No one did," Clark says, then . . . hesitates. "Or . . . we think no one did." 

"You think that's what happened to Kon," Lois says, because of course she's already done the math, and of course she's already had the thought herself. Obviously she would've. 

"The timing is . . . likely, at least," Clark says. "And really, if anyone was going to see my face and notice that a different person was wearing it . . ."

"You have a point," Lois murmurs. She steps into the room. Clark wants to hold her. He also wants to bury himself in the coldest, darkest place that he can find and never, ever let himself see the sun again. 

He doesn't deserve it anymore. 

"I'm so angry that I want to cry," Lois says, her voice very distant and her eyes locked on his. Clark can see her hands fisting in her pockets. "I'm so . . . god. I should've known. You never would've left Jon. Not like that." 

"Bruce made it sound like the parasite was . . . very convincing," Clark says. It convinced Bruce, who may just be the most paranoid mind on the planet, so . . .

"It was," Lois agrees, still without taking her eyes off his. "But I still should've known." 

Clark blinks a little too quickly. Lois tightens her jaw. Takes her hands out of her pockets and leaves them at her sides instead. Clark never thought he'd see them without her wedding ring again. 

"It's been–months, I know," he says, hating himself for thinking he even deserves to say this. "For you. But I still . . ." 

"I love you," Lois says. "Come home." 

There is no possible world in which he could tell her "no". 

Med bay makes him wait for another two hours of observation and runs some scans, but then they let him go. Lois waits with him the whole time. She doesn't call anyone or send any texts. Doesn't leave the room. Barely says a word. Hardly even takes her eyes off him, like she thinks if she blinks he's going to disappear. 

Clark can hardly keep her heartbeat out of his ears, so he doesn't blame her. 

He doesn't blame her at all. 

They go to Smallville. Bruce had said he'd send Dick to pick up Jon from the babysitter's and get him to the farm, and as much as Clark had wanted to go straight to him himself . . . 

Ma and Pa first, he reminds himself. This is going to be upsetting for Jon–most likely traumatic, once it all sinks in. And definitely disorienting. It'll be best if as many of the adults in his life as possible know what's going on in advance, so he can go to whoever he needs to go to; get whatever comfort they can prepare themselves to offer. 

Clark doesn't know how to do this. 

He doesn't . . . 

They don't take two steps onto the farm before a familiar blur is crashing into him head-on. 

"Oh," Clark manages, and Krypto barks excitedly and flies up to lick his face, tail wagging wildly as he jumps all over him. Like he's missed him. Like he's been waiting for him. 

Clark nearly cries again.

"Good boy, Krypto," he tells him, quiet and rough. "I missed you too, boy." 

He scratches Krypto's ears. Strokes his back. Krypto nearly bowls him over in delight. 

Clark buries his face in his neck and cries a bit after all. 

Lois watches. 

Waits. 

Clark spends . . . maybe a little bit too long crying on his dog, and then they all head up to the house. Ma and Pa are both standing on the porch; presumably they heard Krypto barking. They both look a little bit startled and a little bit confused and a lot more pained at the sight of him, and Clark swallows painfully and stops just before the porch steps. 

He looks at them, and he loves them so desperately. Everything they ever did for him, and everything they've ever been to him, and . . . 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just . . . there was . . ."

God, the way this hurts. 

"It was mind control," he says. "The past fourteen months or so. I was . . . I wasn't. Wasn't here. Or . . . anywhere." 

"Oh," Ma says, and her eyes are instantly wet with tears. Pa blinks very quickly, his hand curling against the porch railing. 

"I'm so, so sorry," Clark repeats tightly, his own hands in useless fists. "But I'm–back now. I'm home." 

"Oh, Clark," Ma chokes, and then they both throw themselves at him. Clark's been hugged by people with strength far past superhuman, but it's never felt . . . 

No. It's never once felt the same way as when his parents do it. 

They cling to him. He clings back. Krypto barks again and swoops around the knot of them, wagging his tail hard enough to nearly knock Lois over with the force of wind it stirs up. Definitely some of the porch furniture gets displaced. 

Clark feels so much. 

They sit together on the porch, Krypto sprawled contentedly across Clark's lap and Lois on the steps beside him. Clark gives Ma and Pa what explanation he can–tells them everything he knows about Keystone and the electrocution and the watchtower and the surgery and waking up. They watch him just as intently as Lois does the entire time. 

He doesn't . . . he doesn't mention his suspicions about what might've happened to Kon. Not . . . not yet. 

He doesn't know how to. Not to Ma and Pa. Not after he brought the kid here and left him on their doorstep with no real direction and . . . 

Just–he'll tell them. He'll tell them soon. 

Just . . . not yet. 

It's not a very long talk, in the end. Ma and Pa take in everything he says and just take it all in stride, just like they always have. Baby in a spaceship? Kid with superpowers? Son who thinks he can save the whole damn world? 

Of course they take it in stride. 

Clark loves them too much to even define. Too much to even wrap his own head around. They're the best people he knows. The best people he's ever known. 

They don't even think there's anything for him to be sorry for. 

It's . . . painful, a little, when Clark realizes that. 

Or a lot. 

So, so damn painful. 

Clark hears the definitely-not-a-Batmobile coming, far down the road. Three heartbeats inside it. Dick, Damian, and . . . 

Jon. 

Obviously. 

Clark strokes Krypto's ears one last time, then gets up. No one asks him why, but he supposes the look on his face must be answer enough right now. 

He steps off the porch and goes to wait by the driveway. 

It's not that long a wait, but it feels like the better part of eternity.

[forgotn1]

I've been watching the Expanse for the first time over the last couple of weeks. Just finished episode three of season six and holy shit, it's so good. Easily one of the best sci-fi series ever produced. I'm just disappointed they didn't do the last three books and truncated the sixth season. One of this show's strengths was its pacing and how it was able to tell a compelling story while also doing incredibly deep and brilliant worldbuilding.

The Belter society is amazing, especially the Belter Creole they speak. Which was invented and fleshed out specifically for this show. I love how it parallels the poor and working class here in our world and the exploitation they face. It's brilliant how they give us so many different versions of what their fight for recognition and independence looks like, each with its own unique benefits and flaws.

I think Camina Drummer is my favorite character. I love her strength and fierce loyalty. Her and Naomi definitely dated while she was on the Behemoth. Amos is another fave. I get really strong autistic vibes from him, but a lot of it could also be how he deals with the immense trauma from his childhood. Which is also one of the most interesting and heartbreaking backstories in the show.

There's so much more I could get into to that makes it so great. Like everything that is Chrisjen Avasarala. Or Bobbie's escape on Earth and how it showed Earth wasn't all rich people day drinking. Or the freaking protomolecule! But I think I've rambled enough. lol

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #13] Work of Art

warnings: jaykay discovers boobs! we rejoice! wahooo!! okay so this entire chapter is basically titty worship (no titty sucking (sad)). lots of paint. curious art. shower (again) mutual masturbation (for realsies this time) jaykayyy aka my dream man. the chess plot device is born! the mirror kink is also born! WE THRIVE!! Still one of my fave chapters, some would argue we peaked early!!

soundtrack: vibez- zayn

wc: 11.8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Why did you write it like that?"

"Like what?" you say, coming to sit beside Jeongguk at a pair of easels towards the back of the room. The last few tasks were carried out by the pair of you, Jeongguk insisting on helping despite the fact he had no clue really what to do. You'd ended up asking him to move a couple of boxes you couldn't reach just to appease his need to lend a hand.

He looks at your bird once more, and holds it open for you to read again. You knock your head to the side and shrug.

"Guess it's just how I feel about it."

"Like screaming?"

"Kind of," you laugh. It's written in just the same way as the last one - full capital letters, zero context, and more exclamation points than any one person should use. "I guess it's like... a big one for me?"

"How big are we talking?" Jeongguk asks as he looks at it again. It's just a single word, but he knows there's more to it than meets the eye. There always is with you.

You pull one of your feet up to the chair and wrap your arms around your knee. The apron you'd been wearing earlier is up on a hook, and Jeongguk finds the simplicity of your outfit all very intriguing. You're monochromatic, which isn't much of a surprise, in a large white shirt and black slacks. The caps of your hightops peek out from the hem of your trousers, and a satin scrunchie is around your wrist instead of in your hair.

You're lacking a little sparkle. There's still some across your lashline, and little specks on your skin that your makeup remover hadn't managed to get, but what with the paint and the two showers you've had since the paint party, there's really not all that much left.

He wonders if there's any glitter glue in the art supplies. Thinks you should just use that instead. You're really not quite yourself without it.

"My ex was a tittie guy," you say, and Jeongguk's eyes widen as if he'd forgotten the topic of conversation. You laugh. "Is it really that much of a surprise? Ass guys are hardly gonna go for me."

"Your ass is fine," Jeongguk says. He means it as a compliment, but realises 'fine' isn't the way to ever really describe a woman's assets - and so he corrects himself. "Good, I mean. Your ass is good."

There's a look of disgust on your face as you question why on earth he's been looking at your ass, which causes him to roll his eyes. There really is no winning with you.

"I'm an ass guy," he shrugs.

"Doesn't give you any right to look at it."

"Oh give over," he laughs. "It's literally just a body part. No different to me looking at, I don't know... your wrist. Something like that."

"Well, it depends," you argue back. "Are you into wrists?"

Regretfully, the answer is yes .

"I don't know!" Jeongguk protests when you grill him for how the fuck he can be 'into' wrists. "They're just dainty! And pretty! I don't know! It's not my fault."

You narrow your eyes, and hide your exposed wrist behind your knee. He looks at you with a poorly hidden smile, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His lip ring always dances along his peachy bottom lip when he does so, and it makes you laugh - but you're still feigning disgust.

In all honestly, you like your wrists. Would put them in your top five for your physical attributes. Completely understand why he would be into wrists, just like you're into forearms. You like arms that feel safe.

Kind of like his.

But still, he's an ass guy.

"See, this is why you and I would never work," you tell him, and nod to the piece of paper he's still holding, adorned with a singular scribble:

!!!!! TITS !!!!!

"We want different things," you clarify. "You're after a good ass, I'm after a guy who knows how to handle a pair of tits."

"Hey! That's not fair. I never said I didn't know how to handle them," he scoffs - although now he comes to think about it, he's not sure he actually does. "Like, sure, maybe my exes have all had great asses, but they all had a pair of tits, too. I'm not opposed to a pair of tits."

"Yeah, but there's a pair of tits, and a pair of tits , yanno?" You say, using your hands to really emphasise the point. "Anyway my ex really liked them."

"So?"

"So, I really liked that he really liked them," you shrug. It's painfully obvious to you, but Jeongguk is still a little confused. "I just... The idea of someone else doing what he did to them just... makes me wanna run, yanno?"

"The fuck did he do them?" Jeongguk laughs.

"Nothing obscene," you smile, though when you think about it, perhaps 'obscene' is the only way to describe how much he enjoyed them. "I guess it's more so that it was always a part of sex? Most guys I've been with pick and choose whenever they want to deal with them, but with him..."

You don't mean to trail off, but fuck. You're thinking about Seokjin, how his plump lips would trail down your throat. He'd inhale the scent of your perfume and fucking whine, only stopping to latch himself to your nipples. Would spend more time on your tits than he would any other part of your body. Spent so long once that he made you orgasm from the simulation of it all alone.

And so now they're off limits. It doesn't matter who it is. The second someone reaches for your bra, you shake your head, reposition their hands, and pretend you hate your tits being touched. It's not like it's an unreasonable lie. You know it's one of Danbi's least favourite forms of foreplay. If anything, she'd be a good match for Jeongguk. In fact, now you come to think about it, she's got a cracking ass from all of her dog-walking.

Maybe you should cool the deal off. It's highly likely they're compatible. Fucking around with Jeongguk would only complicate things in the future if they discovered that themselves - but you know Taehyung's interested in her, and Jeongguk hasn't given any indication of interest further than friendship with her.

It's not like this is anything beyond friendship, you reason with yourself.

Jeongguk stays quiet as you work through your thought process. Assumes you're skimming through traumatic memories. Doesn't realise you're actually playing matchmaker in your head for him and your best friend.

"But with him?" He asks.

You're drawn from your thoughts. Feel a little guilty. Wonder if you should really be doing this - not for your sake, but for his.

"Are you sure about this?" You ask, ignoring his question entirely.

"About?"

"Doing my birds?"

He purses his lips - and now he feels guilty, too. Funny, how you're both more concerned about one another than yourselves.

"It's entirely your choice," he says. Doesn't want you to feel pressured into it - but it just makes you feel like he feels pressured into it.

"No, but, that just feels to me as if you don't want to," you tell him. "And like, that's totally fine, if you don't, but-"

"Byeol," he says all rather plainly. "I'm the one who suggested it. If I didn't want to I wouldn't be here right now, would I? I sought you out. I came here. This is all on me."

The worry on your features softens, and he's pleased to see you smile again no matter how subtle it may be.

"Only thing I will say is that I don't actually know what 'exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, tits, excla-' "

"Gguk, you don't have to say every single exclamation point."

"Right," he nods. "Well, that. I don't know what that exactly entails."

And truth be told, nor do you. So you just sigh. Press your lips together a little tighter than usual. Think about it for a moment. Draw a blank. Furrow your brows.

Jeongguk looks just as perplexed as you. He's looking away, trying to find inspiration in the room around him - and when his eyes land on the 'gallery' wall where there are imitations of famous works, an idea comes to mind.

"So this is all about separating physical acts from emotional intimacy, right?" He says, and when you nod, he continues. "So what if we do something that involves-" he laughs, because he's a child. "-touching your tits-"

"Real mature."

"Shut up. We'll do something that involves touching your tits," he has to pause so that he doesn't laugh, but you're grinning too. Just as immature as he is. "But something that isn't sexual at all."

"Alright," you muse. "I'm listening."

"You got any black paint?"

You narrow your eyes. Turn your nose up a little. Question if he's lost all of his brain cells. "Jeongguk, this is an art cafe."

"I didn't wanna just assume," he feigns offence. "Are there security cameras in this place?"

"Only by the front entrance. None into the studio area."

"Okay, good. Go get some black paint and I'll get the blinds."

"No blinds," you say, nodding over the windows. "Chiffon curtains. If we turn the main lights off and just keep the lamps on, it should all be obscured. Let's just... not be too close to the windows - and what's the paint for?"

"Will tell you in a bit," he says as he heads to the windows. "Chop, chop, Byeol. We've got a fear to overcome."

You stay as you are for a moment, watching him with unrivalled wonder. There's an enigmatic energy to him that makes it seem as if he's the one constantly covered in glitter, not you. It's quite alarming that this is Jeongguk operating at half capacity. His confidence was knocked quite considerably after his heart was broken, and he's yet to recover. You know this. Know that's what his birds are all about. Know that once you've worked through them with him, he'll be an unstoppable force of nature.

In the time you've known him, he's been nothing but an angel. Cocky? Yes. A little petulant? Make that incredibly petulant. And yet he's a joy to be around. Shines without the need for artificial sparkles. You envy it. Wish you could emulate it.

It's as you're getting the paint, and a few extra supplies that you'll figure you'll need - some brushes, some washcloths - that Jeongguk begins to explain himself. He's drawing the curtains shut, glancing over at you every few words just to check you're paying attention.

"So I saw a video the other day - something to do with easy Halloween crafts, don't ask - and there are two options for you. One of them is quite literally painting your tits and pressing it against a canvas-"

"You are not painting my tits."

"Noted. The other one was way more family-friendly," he says, before he mulls it over and changes his mind. "Kinda. Maybe. It's a skeleton hand shirt."

"Okay..."

"It's super simple, one person covers their hands in paint and basically just grabs the other persons tits-"

"Does that mean I can grab yours too?"

"I don't have tits, I have incredibly defined pecks," he states rather sharply. "Please rephrase the question, Byeol."

You just grin. "Can I grab your tits?"

"No."

"Boring."

"Look," he smiles as he walks over to the easels where you'd been sat before. He turns the chair and sits on it backwards, arms resting over the back of it. There's a casualness to the way in which he carries himself. One that you quite enjoy. "This is a quick, easy and totally platonic way for you to have your tits touched, and it not be sexual at all."

"It'll just ruin my shirt."

"Or not," he says as he nods up to the wall where canvas sizes are displayed. There's also a plain tote bag and white tee pinned to the wall, still up from a promotion put on during the back-to-school season. It had been Hoseok's job to take them down, but he'd just broken up with his girlfriend at the time and had spent the entire week face down in the back room - getting him to do anything had been impossible - and so they remain as they were. "Would your boss notice if one went missing?"

You shake your head. Your boss really has no clue about the day-to-day goings on.

Still, you're hesitant. "If I get fired-"

"Then I'll fire Yeonjun and you can have his job," Jeongguk bullshits. If he was gonna fire anyone, Yeonjun would be the last to go. "C'mon, you gotta stop stressing the small stuff, Byeol."

You're making excuses. You know you are, and so does he.

"Can we at least do it at your place?" You ask. It feels rude to invite yourself to his apartment, but it's honestly probably where you feel most comfortable. It's where the birds are, and it feels like a sanctuary for your fears. When done in the confines of his room, you're able to shut them away and never think about them again - at least not until you return.

Jeongguk thinks it over. He's got no problem with it, just isn't sure if Jimin is in. He tells you as such and is met with a shrug.

"If he's in, he's in," you say. "We can just say we're working on planning an event for Tae's exhibition, say that I'm using you for cheap labour."

"Oh shit yeah," Jeongguk gasps, suddenly reminded of the fact Taehyung had been here with a purpose. "How did it go? You think your boss will approve."

You nod. "Don't see why not. It's a solid pitch and we haven't held an exhibition in a while. I have some contacts saved up from our last couple of shows so can get together a guest list for the opening night."

It's more than Taehyung would have hoped for. The painting cafe is unassuming, in a way, which makes it a great underdog location for hosting such events.

"Sorry to have sent him here without warning," Jeongguk adds. "I wasn't even sure if you did things like that."

"Not often," you admit. "I really enjoy them, though. I'm always keen for more."

The pair of you gather up your things and head back to Jeongguk's place, talking about his friends, and their careers. You learn Taehyung is an artist by night, but a teaching assistant by day, which makes his love for arts and crafts all the more sweeter, you decide. Jimin works at a local interior design firm, which suddenly makes so much sense considering the books you remember being on his desk when you were bent over it.

Namjoon works at the local off-branch of the national paper, with a focus on environmental reporting, which is how he'd met Yoongi, who works as a sustainable carpenter, specialising in local woods and materials. Running his own studio, Mins , he'd done a promotional interview a few years back around the time it opened, and had then introduced Namjoon to the rest of the boys.

Their friendships run deep, and it's nice that Jeongguk is so willing to share that part of his life with you. The way he sees it, you're well on your way to becoming a part of the group, too.

When you arrive at Jeongguk's place, he enters first.

The shower is running, loud enough to obscure any noise of his arrival, so he ushers you in and straight to his room. The sneaking around is getting a little old already, but he figures soon enough it will be commonplace for you to hang out with the both of them.

Jimin isn't naive to your friendship, he just isn't aware quite how friendly you've become.

And so you keep your voices down, even when the pair of you are trying your hardest not to laugh, hands covered in paint, neither of you wanting to be the one who goes first. He's in a black shirt, so your hands are covered in white paint. You're in white, so his hands are coated in a layer of black paint instead.

It's stupid and it's juvenile, but also incredibly sweet. You appreciate how much Jeongguk tries to ease you into things. Baby steps.

"No, no," you whisper. "I'll go first. On you. Easier that way."

He knows it will make it no more difficult nor easy no matter who goes when, but he understands what you're saying. It will make you feel more comfortable. Of course, he obliges.

"Stand behind me," he says quietly. "Can you see in the mirror?"

"Not really," you say. His back is broad and he's obviously far taller than you, which pretty much obscures the entire mirror. If you lean around, you can see part of it, but it makes it harder for your to get an equal placement on his chest.

"Okay, just stand straight. I'll guide you."

The way he knocks your hands into position, mostly because his are also covered in paint, is just as gentle as the tone of his voice is.

"Three, two, one," he counts down. "Now press."

You do as you're told and are confronted with potentially the firmest pecks you've ever laid your hands upon. Sure, Seokjin had a body built like a God, but Jeongguk? Jesus Christ. He must be something entirely... unhuman.

"Anddd pull away," he whispers. The shirt sticks a little bit, but as your hands peel off, Jeongguk smirks. "Your hands are so small."

You take great offence to this for absolutely no reason other than to bicker with him. "Says you!"

"Sorry?"

"You don't exactly have massive hands," you goad him, seeing if you can get a rise out of him, and as if by magic -

"Turn the fuck around, Byeol," he says, almost forgetting the volume control. You do as you're told, grinning like the smug little bitch you are. "Don't have massive hands? I swear you say shit just to piss me off."

"Who me?" You feign innocence. " Never ."

"Yes, you," he laughs, but he makes no attempt to reciprocate the shirt creation. Instead, he holds back. Wants to make sure you're okay with it. You tell him you are, but he still doubles down on confirmation. "If it's too much at any point, just say."

You nod. Wonder if he can see the beat of your heart running through your veins. He can't. But he can see your eyes in the mirror, and recognise the trepidation they're drowning in.

"You ready?"

And again, you nod. Exhale. "Ready."

He's tentative in his approach, palms wide, fingers outstretched. He lets his palms rest on the sides of your chest first. You stop breathing for a moment.

"You okay?" He checks, to which you nod. "Okay, Byeol. We're going at your pace. The second it's too much, you let me know, okay?"

He waits for your go-ahead, and then lets his fingers squeeze into the softness of your chest. He sort of assumed he'd eclipse them like he always has done with his former partners, but he doesn't quite manage it with you. It takes him by surprise. Stops him in his tracks. Makes you nervous.

"Gguk?"

Whatever trance he's in, he snaps out of it. Realigns his focus. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod. "Are you?"

"Yeah, yeah," he parrots back. "Just being careful."

"It's fine," you smile. "I'm not a porcelain doll - and this is fine, actually."

"It is?"

"Mhmm. This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be."

"You're welcome."

You laugh, and tell him to shut up. He squeezes ever so gently around your chest, and as much as you hate to admit it, a fucking moan is lodged in your throat. You don't let it out. Don't want him to know it feels electric having his hands on you like this. God, it's nice . It's good . Comforting. That's what surprises you the most.

You've spent so long avoiding contact like this, that you had forgotten why you liked it so much in the first place.

In fact, you find yourself pouting ever so slightly when he pulls away, revealing two black handprints cradling your tits. His is the reverse, white paint on a black shirt.

"See," he smiles. "Told you it was cool. When they're dry, we can go in with markers and outline the skeleton shapes."

The pout on your lips as you look at him is sweet, eyes full of wonder. He thinks he's only ever seen you like this when you're drunk. It's all hazy, and it's like the glitter that's normally on your cheeks is in your pupils instead.

Silence resumes in his room, both of you conscious of Jimin milling around in the kitchen. Jeongguk tells you to take the shirt off - "be careful, don't let the paint touch anywhere else" - so that it can dry properly.

It's as you're both standing there half naked with your backs to one another, that he's caught off guard.

"Let's do it."

"Hmm?"

"Let's do it," you repeat. "That first idea. The canvas. I packed one just in case and I... I didn't think we'd need it - but it wasn't entirely horrible, and-I-think-I-wanna-see-if-maybe-"

"Byeol," Jeongguk laughs, cutting you off, but doesn't turn around to face you. He's still trying to be as respectful as he can be. "Breathe. If you wanna do it, we can. No biggie on my part."

"It's a biggie on my part," you say quietly.

Jeongguk frowns. Doesn't like how vulnerable you sound. "I know. It's okay. We can make it not a biggie."

Your mind races at a mile a minute. You've not let anyone other than Seokjin touch your bare chest in such a long time. The idea of Jeongguk doing it now makes you feel nervous, but you're ready for it. Ready to feel renewed. Ready to finally fucking let go.

"How do you want to do this?" You ask, because one decision is enough for you. You'd rather let him be in the driver's seat, now. Leave your destination unknown. Leave it up to him. You're just here for the journey. Here for the ride.

"Can I turn around?"

"Yeah," you say. You don't mind him seeing you like this - you're shirtless, but you still have a bra on. He takes a second to look at your back; how your spine trails down it. Wonders if there are dimples at the bottom of it. They'd be hidden by your trousers now, and he doesn't really remember checking after the paint party.

He shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts, as he heads to the curtains and draws one of them shut. The other curtain remains open, but neither of you will be standing in front of it, so he doesn't think it matters all that much.

Jeongguk comes to stand behind you, turning you to face the mirror. His hands are on your shoulders, still a little paint-ridden, but nothing that bothers you.

"So I'm thinking," he says quietly, eyes on yours in the reflection as he toys slightly with the bra straps over your shoulders. "That this comes off."

You swallow so hard that Jeongguk thinks you might choke. You don't.

But you also nod.

"Is that a yes?" He checks for consent.

"It's a yes."

His hands are slow as they stroke down your back. He's not really thinking. Just working on auto-pilot. This isn't about him. It's all about you. What you need. What you want.

"Then, I think we need more paint," he says, his fingers working to unclasp your bra. You feel the tension ping and release, and you think you might have a heart attack. He notices the change in your breathing. "If you need to stop, you just say, okay? Tell me okay?"

"Okay," you nod, knowing you're in the safest hands you possibly could be.

"What will you say? Give me a word. Something obscure. A safe word."

You shake your head and shrug, trying to think. "I don't know - chess?"

Jeongguk laughs, knowing exactly where your eyes must have been focused - on the shelf by his desk, where his chess set sits undisturbed. "Okay. Chess."

"Chess."

"Just say it, and I'll stop."

You're silent as he reaches over for the paint, and tells you to toss your bra on his bed. The click of the acrylic bottle opening and closing beats in time with your heart. Jeongguk's warming the paint between his hands, trying to make this as comfortable for you as he possibly can.

You're entirely bare from the waist up, and don't take much comfort in the fact that he is too. It feels a hell of a lot scarier for you, and you both know it.

"I'm gonna touch you now," he says, and waits for you to nod. You close your eyes. Bite on your lip. Wait for the contact - and when his palms softly connect, your brows knit together. Jeongguk watches on, apprehensive. It almost looks like you're in pain, but as he begins to spread the paint over your breasts, they ease. "That okay?"

You nod. "It's okay."

When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away - and Jeongguk notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch."

He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know.

It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care - he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided - it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it. The girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.

Jimin's fully aware of the friendship. Knows you've been in the apartment a handful of times. Jeongguk never hides it from it; just tells him after the occasion. He doesn't mind.

In fact, Jimin quite likes your company whenever he bumps into you. Is quite glad you're not weird around him just because you've had sex. If anything, it gives him high hopes that maybe you'll be up for round two on the nights he can't find anyone else. To be honest, it'd make you the perfect candidate for a friends-with-benefits type situation with him. He hasn't had one of those in a while.

He doesn't share this thought process with Jeongguk. Isn't sure how well received it would be. See, Jeongguk's been incredibly vocal about how embarking on a friends-with-benefits situation is potentially the stupidest thing a person can do.

He'd lost his best friend - the girl he could have spent his life with - that way. Hasn't spoken to his favourite person in months because her new boyfriend doesn't like her hanging out with people she used to fuck. Makes sense. He can't argue against it.

He can think about it in the quiet hours of the early mornings, though, and weep a little out of frustration with how fucked up the best thing in life became.

There's a naive hope within him now that thinks he's fixing his previous wrongs with you. Doing things he's already done, without taking it too far, this time. A broken heart can't fall in love, after all. It's different.

Your eyes land on his; dark and frightfully deep. He's not sure what you're thinking. Tells himself it's better that way.

"My hands," he corrects. "Eyes on my hands, Byeol. Watch what I'm doing."

It takes you a moment to pull your eyes from his - and when you do, something about it feels catastrophic . Paint covers the skin of your chest; only a few small gaps of exposed skin are still on display. He squeezes. Moves his fingers. Doesn't specifically aim to cover those spots, but know it's the end goal.

There's a muffled moan hiding in your throat; revelations of a lost pleasure that you've refused to let yourself indulge in.

"Gguk-" you begin, but he hushes you.

"Just feel it. Watch it."

And so you do. His chin rests on your shoulder, watching your body, keeping an eye on the way your heartbeat begins to calm, yet races all the same. The ink on his hand is hidden by the paint, his forearms just as much of a mess as your chest. You fight your instincts which tell you to close your eyes; to lean into his touch.

The moan that's made it home in your throat decides it's been trapped for too long. It tickles at your lips, vibrates into the room. You catch it with a gasp, and Jeongguk can't help but let an airy smirk fall from his lips.

He never thought you were kidding about how much you liked it, but it's different seeing it in the flesh. There's an insolent nature to his teasing, and it makes you want to fucking whine.

"How does it feel, Byeol?"

Your eyes flick up to his, your lips resting ajar. The heaving of your chest is far easier to see when he stops massaging your chest. You smirk back at him. Roll your eyes.

"You don't wanna know," you tell him, because as much as he tried to make out that none of this would be sexual, your body doesn't agree.

And honestly, nor does his.

"No," he says, closing the minuscule gap he's been keeping between his crotch and your ass. The corners of his lips twitch upwards when you feel it - feel him - press against you. "I think I do wanna know."

His smirk is laced in sin, dark eyes hazy, as your chest begins to stutter all over again. You bring your hand to rest over one of his. Encourage his movements. Let your eyes close. Don't hide the moan that travels through you.

"I thought you said this wasn't gonna be sexual," you eventually say a little breathlessly. You encourage his movements still, just to let him know you're not entirely opposed to it.

"It's not," he purrs against your ear, and presses himself against you again, a little firmer this time. His breath is hot against your skin as you lean your head back, a laboured grunt stuck now in his throat. You can feel his heartbeat against your back.

You let your eyes rest on him in the reflection. Take a moment to read his face, and decide you've no idea what this man is thinking.

Truth be told, he's not really having any cognitive thoughts.

"You're hard," you tell him.

His eyes rest shut, a bashful smile on his giddy lips, neck turning ever so slightly to rest his forehead against your hair. And then he whispers, "Don't tell me you're not wet, Byeol."

"Mhhm," you moan with a little humour. "Dry as the Sahara, buddy."

"God, if my hands weren't covered in paint-"

"You'd what?" you interrupt with a sardonic smile. "This isn't sexual, remember?"

He scrunches his face up. Looks at you. Looks at your chest. Looks away from the mirror, and down to watch his movements. He alters his pace, playing with your tits just for the fun of it, seeing how he can toy with them. It might not be what usually gets him keen, but he can see why you attract boob guys; can also understand why your ex would keep coming back if he is a boob guy.

"You ever do this to yourself? Like, for fun?" He asks, ignoring your last question, seemingly hypnotised by the overspill between his fingers, and the way it jiggles for him.

"Like non-sexually?"

"Mhhm," he says as he repositions himself. Cups the undersides of your boobs. Lets his thumbs flick against your nipples. You moan in a way he hasn't heard before. Does it again. Same result.

"Fuck," you hiss. "Yeah, I do it - fuck, Gguk - for fun. Not like this though. This is-"

"Just for getting you wet?"

Yes.

"I'm not wet."

"Such a liar, Byeol."

His fingers pinch, gently clasping at your nipples. Has you mewling. Has you amazed you haven't been letting anyone do this during sex. You've been making yourself suffer to solidify your heartbreak. Maybe if you'd have been fucking people how you like to be fucked, instead of using it as a tool of validation, you'd have found the whole thing a bit easier. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you'll never know.

"Are you trying to make me wet?" You challenge, eyes on him, watching the way he's watching himself.

He shakes his head. Nestles it against your hair. Likes the scent of your shampoo. Inhales a little deeper. Is breathless when he rasps, "just helping out a friend. How your body reacts to me is its own problem."

You scoff. "My body's reaction has got nothing to do with you."

"No?" His grip tightens. You whine.

"Gguk-" is all you can manage, chest heaving, heart in your throat. Your back is arching, pushing your chest further into his grasp.

He's about to mock you; about to tease you a little more. Make some dumb remark, you sure, something that will have you fighting back against him - but it's interrupted.

"Hey, Jeongguk?" A voice shouts from the living room. "You in?"

The way Jeongguk pulls away from you is so abrupt you almost lose balance. He pulls a shirt from his chair, chucks it in your direction without looking back and darts for the door at such speed, you wouldn't be surprised to see him in a comic book like one of his damn figurines.

He opens the door just a crack, keeping you hidden, ignoring the fact his door handle is now slathered in black paint - the corner of his pristine white wall, too.

"Hey," he squeaks as Jimin stops in his tracks. He'd just been about to reach for Jeongguk's doorhandle to invite himself in, but the look on Jeongguk's face tells him to stay away.

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "This isn't suspicious at all."

Behind Jeongguk's head, Jimin can see his bed. It's made, not disturbed in the slightest, but the way Jeongguk is guarding the room makes it incredibly clear he was up to no good. It's all very amusing. Just out of his eye line is your bra.

"Was just letting you know I'm off out," he smirks. "But I'll leave you to it. Don't think I'll be back till morning, so stay safe, young padawan."

"Right," Jeongguk purses his lips, not wanting to give Jimin the satisfaction of confirming nor denying anything.

Jimin doesn't care to watch Jeongguk squirm. Would rather let him get back to whoever it is with him in his room. The kid's been out of action for so long that he's frankly pleased to see him acting so shifty. He's never known anyone who needs to get laid as much as Jeongguk does. Hopes this means he's finally over the last girl.

He turns on his heel, but calls back, "don't forget to wrap it up! Can't be arsed with baby-proofing the apartment."

"Jesus Christ," Jeongguk mutters as he closed his door. He rests his head on the frame for a moment, before turning his head to find you in a state of absolute horror.

"Gguk!" You whisper, eyes wide, heart thumping into your chest. The shirt he'd thrown at you is still on the floor because it's a white shirt, and you weren't stupid enough to actually pick it up. You kick back across to his chair, hands covering your chest without touching them. You don't want to end up as messy as he is.

Jeongguk strides across to you with a scrunched-up face and just moves your arms, laughing to himself slightly as he cups your breasts in his hands. He holds them firmly. Squeezes an apology. Admittedly, you do feel more protected like this.

"Shush, shush," he coos quietly, a stupid smile plastered all over his face. His hands are temperate, but they squeeze at you a little as his shoulders lift ever so slightly. "He's not out the door yet."

There's a pause as you both wait with bated breath. There's a faint click, which Jeongguk knows is the front door going, so he nods. A second click follows.

"You're safe," he laughs, and you can't help but laugh, too. Your hands instinctively come up to cover your chest, but his hands are already there, so you drop them again. His forehead rests against yours. His frivolous energy is contagious, the pair of you breathlessly giggling at the weird fucking situation you're in. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you shake your head, keeping your forehead against his, almost brushing your nose with his. "Not your fault."

"Got a little carried away, though," he whispers, his smile fading as he harshly swallows back. "Should've tapped out. I should have said chess."

You shrug. Whisper, "takes two to tango."

The moment lingers. Wraps you both up in a ribbon, and ties a bow where his hands meet your chest. Safe and secure. A memory to be tucked away under your list of bad decisions, but for the moment, you'll convince yourself it was a good idea. You're not thinking of Seokjin, at least, and that was the real goal.

"Let's finish this off," he says, nodding over to the canvas. "We need more paint, though. I'm pretty sure I've literally, like, moisturised it into your skin. I don't think that's a good thing."

"It's definitely not a good thing," you cringe, knowing that your pores must be screaming beneath the acrylic. You wait for his grip to leave your chest, but it doesn't. It's only when you raise a brow and shake your head at him that he realises.

"Oh, right, yeah, yeah."

It's a lot more clumsy this time round. Jeongguk's second-guessing himself, almost as if he hasn't just spent God knows how long grappling with your tits. He laughs, and so do you, the pair of you finding every little thing hilarious. Perhaps it's nerves, or perhaps you're trying to play this off as something totally normal between friends, but either way, you think you're glad you're with him. Glad he took a chance on your birds.

"How do we even do this?" Jeongguk hums in confusion when he holds up the canvas. He puts it in all kinds of positions, but can't seem to figure out the best course of action. You tilt your head and mull it over.

"Gimmie it," you say softly, holding your hands out to retrieve it from him. His palms have left prints on the edges, but it doesn't matter. Turning to the mirror, you can't help but smile at how much of a mess you are. Such a stupid idea, and yet it's worked perfectly. "Okay, stand behind me again - keep your boner away from me this time, though."

"My God, I don't even have one anymore," he whines, and it's true. It's just a semi.

"Sure," you tease, but begin to instruct him further. "Hold them, like, underneath. How you did earlier. Yeah, yeah, that's it," you nod.

His long fingers support the base of your breasts, his thumbs resting on the sides. Chin on the top of your head, it's a lot less intimate than it had been. This, you think, could be argued as non-sexual.

A momentary lapse in judgement is fine, and that's what you'll chalk earlier up to.

It's not like there are set rules to this whole arrangement. Mistakes will be made; bad decisions, too. What matters is that you don't make the same ones twice.

"Okay," you muse quietly, holding the canvas up to your chest, trying to line it up perfectly. "I'm gonna press down. Keep still."

Jeongguk doesn't dare move. Too scared you'll notice his semi and tell him off for being a randy bastard. It's circumstantial. He's never spent so long holding a pair of tits. It's just... hormones. Maybe. He isn't really sure.

Pressing the canvas against your poised chest, you apply as much pressure as you can, trying to get the imprint. You're mumbling affirmations of a good job to yourself - "Okay, good. Just a little more. Little more pressure, c'mon." - before pulling it away.

It almost peels, the paint a little tacky, but sure enough, the imprint is there, and pretty damn perfect if you do say so yourself. A pleased, albeit a little surprised, laugh escapes your lips.

"Oh, that's fucking cool," Jeongguk beams. "Looks like one of those inkblot tests."

He's not wrong. There are two well-defined black circles, the imprints differing ever so slightly, smudging outwards. To you, it's plainly obvious it's a pair of tits - but then again, they are your tits. It's a lived, breathed experience of yours. Anyone else looking might mistake them for something else.

"Mmm," you agree. "What do you see?"

You're holding it up in front of you, blocking the mirror from your view. Jeongguk's head dips to your shoulder, where his pointy chin rests but you don't complain. One of his structured hands eases, slipping to a more natural grasp on your boob, while the other drops. It slinks around the front of your waist, his forearm keeping your back pressed against his chest.

"Big ol' pair of titties," he says in potentially the most childish voice he could have chosen. You pull away from his grasp and give him a look of disgust. "Sorry, I mean... not a pair of tits?"

"You're a fucking child, Jeon," you scold, to which he tells you that he's actually very mature and you're just being a boring old bint. Turning back around to study it a little more, you tilt your head. It's missing something. Jeongguk's grasp on you had never fully eased, but both of his hands rest now at the dips of your waist. You pay it no mind. "I think we should add to it."

"Watcha thinking?"

"Not sure," you muse. "It is a little bit too obvious."

"So you're saying it does look like a big pair of-"

"Oh my God," you groan, walking away from him and to where the paint is sitting pretty. "Lie down."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. Lie down."

You don't look at him as you say your commands, instead you spend your time picking between the paints. The silver is your favourite, but as much as he likes to wear it in the form of jewellery, you know that gold is his colour. It's the one that suits him best - or at least, suits who he is.

He's hesitant, but he does as you say. He lies on his back horizontally across the bed, like how the pair of you do when you look at the birds, one of his arms resting over his stomach. He looks up to them now, no smile on his lips, but an overwhelming sense of contentedness.

Before you, he used to look at the birds and feel guilt. Was harbouring feelings that he'd told everyone he had let go of. They're still there, but they're diluted. Too much of you filling the empty spaces for him to dwell on the birds made for her instead.

You come to perch next to him on the bed, sat on your ankles as his gaze falls to yours with great curiosity.

"What are you doing, Byeol?"

With a smile, you say nothing - just uncap the paint lid, and turn it on its end over the top of his chest. He doesn't object. Just watches you quietly. Patiently. Hisses when the chill of the paint comes into contact with his skin, but lets you do as you please.

Capping it shut with a click, you reach over to put the paint on his bedside table. Still shirtless, Jeongguk watches the way your tits move, and doesn't even try to hide it.

"Eyes up here," you say as you regain full posture, but he keeps his eyes on your tits.

"Can't. Hypnotised."

You're laughing as you roll your eyes. "Such a liar, Mr 'I'm an Ass Guy' ."

He finally looks at you, almost in horror, thanks to the accent you just did impersonate him. "Is that how you think I sound?!"

"It is how you sound," you tell him, knowing that you should have deepened your voice. Instead, you'd deliberately raised it a few octaves. "I'm a voice actress in my spare time," you lie. "I've been told I have perfect pitch on many occasions. That was an exact replica of your voice."

It's said with such a straight face that it would be believable if it wasn't for the fact that Jeongguk does have perfect pitch. His music teacher always tried to make him pursue a musical career, but he was fearful of failure. Didn't want to put himself out there just to get rejected.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you," he mutters as your finger begins to draw over his chest with the paint. "Most annoying girl I've ever met - shit -" he winces as you flick his nipple, his hand coming to rub at it almost immediately. "Byeol!"

"Hmm?" you smile. "Sorry were you saying something?"

He says nothing, just narrows his eyes at you as you get back to work, spreading the paint over his chest.

"We've already got an imprint of my tits," you muse, pressing the metallic gold into his muscles, quietly in awe over his physique. "And now I wanna get an imprint of your tits, too. Over the top of mine. I think it'll look cool."

"You mean my pecks?"

"Yeah, sure," you say. "Your tits."

"They're pecks!"

"Okay?"

"One of those birds better have 'fixing my attitude problem' on them," Jeongguk huffs, but it's all in good humour. You tell him your attitude is golden - just like his tits are. "They're fucking pecks!"

Reaching over for the canvas, your golden palms are just clumsy as his had been, leaving little marks on the edge of the canvas. Laughter fills his room as you try and decide how to place it, with the pair of your twisting and turning the canvas to try and figure out your best bet. You don't want to obscure your tits entirely, but his chest is broad.

"Don't think you thought this through," Jeongguk teases. "You just wanted an excuse to touch my chest."

You flick his nipple again.

"Jesus Christ! One more time and I'll-"

Oh , how you love a threat. Can't wait to see if it's a promise.

And so you flick the other.

"Right, that's it."

It'd be a lie if you said you knew exactly where he flung the canvas - you were too busy trying to avoid his grasp as he got to his feet - but there are only so many places you can run to in his room.

In fact, you only actually get about three steps away by the time his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his grasp. The paint on his chest is slick against your back, but he doesn't really think about it as he turns you around, pressing you up against the window that doesn't have the curtain pulled shut.

His large hand clasps both of your wrists, holding them above your head just to keep them away from his damn nipples. The chase was minimal, the catch far too easy - and yet you're both breathless. Chests heaving. Your nipples are gilded in gold. He's far too fucking close.

"Gguk-"

"What did I say about flicking my nipples?" He looks down at you, desperately trying not to smirk. The anger he's feigning is convincing, but even if he was furious, he's painted like a chryselephantine statue. In all fairness, he's got the body to match. A Greecian God if you ever did see one.

"Can't help it," you pout. "Your tits are just so perky."

He doesn't even insist on the fact they're pecks this time. Just lets his eyes drop to your tits, then back to your eyes. Repeats this four or five times. Shakes his head.

"If that's the metric we're going with, Byeol, then you're well overdue half a dozen nipple flicks."

"Nooo," you whine, squirming to get out of his grasp. He doesn't let you immediately, but ultimately decides it's for the best. Needs to calm himself down. Can't be having another repeat of the night before.

As soon as his grasp eases, you bolt away from him, and retrieve the canvas from the foot of his bed. He notices the gold on his window, and ignores it. Will deal with it later. It's an easy fix. A logical one.

For now, he's got a half-naked force of a woman in his room that he doesn't know how the fuck to deal with. No logic, no reason, no rhyme seems to help him figure you out.

"Please can we finish the canvas?" you say sweetly, as if you haven't been the one derailing things every single step of the way.

He says nothing. Spread his arms wide. Beckons you forward.

Pressing the canvas to his chest, you throw all of your deliberations out of the window. You don't really care for the outcome, now. Just know that the pair of you need to not be topless anymore.

It's platonic, yeah, but it is tempting.

The canvas peels much like it did when your impression was made, the paint tacky on his skin. The pair of you are dumbfounded as you take in the result for the first time.

It's fucking beautiful .

Metallic gold weaves around the black, overlaying ever so serenely, creating an abstract interaction between the shapes.

"What do you see now?" you ask softly, quietly proud of your creation together.

"I see a masterpiece," he grins, and that arm of his that likes hooking around your waist so much finds its favourite spot once more. His chin is on your head. "And you know what else?"

"What?"

"Look there -" he points to a small 'v' shape, just above the imprint of your chest that's free of gold. "Looks to me like a bird."

"Holy shit."

"A fear set free," he muses.

"Well done us," you beam, holding your hand up for him to high-five. He does so with ease, before reaching for the canvas and propping it up on his desk.

"C'mon," he grips onto your shoulders. Eases you forward and to his bedroom door. Reaching round to open it, he lets his hands fall to your waist, and then back up to cup your tits as you walk together. "Shower."

"Are you ever gonna let go of them now?" You laugh, finally pointing out just how bloody handsy he is.

"Don't think so."

"Brilliant."

He eventually does let them go as you're both washing your hands beneath the tap of his bathroom sink.

"Got a little paint in your hair," Jeongguk says as you're drying your hands. He goes to twiddle at it in an attempt the break the dry paint down. It's not a lot, but it does mean you'll need to wash your hair to avoid the bleached strands from staining.

"Shit," you curse, knowing that Jeongguk definitely won't have any silver shampoo, nor will he have anything more than a bog-standard conditioner.

"Hold on," he says, moving you to the side to rummage in the cupboard beneath the sink. There's a small clatter of bottles as he pulls a basket from the back of the shelf with a triumphant smile.

It's a grin that's quietly pleased, lips thin, pressed together, lip ring flipping in that way which always makes you smile. The basket itself is just as interesting as Jeongguk's face - a myriad of coloured tubes, and lo-and-behold, the same brand of silver shampoo you use.

"Jimin had a phase," he explains. "Well, no actually, he's had a few - but this is from the coloured hair phase. You need the purple shit, right?"

You nod. "The purple shit."

"Take what you need," he says as he gets back to his full posture, leaving the room only to return a moment later with a bottle of conditioner in hand. You know the brand. It's pricey. You only buy it when it's on sale. You furrow your brows, and he just shrugs. "I keep my good towels out of the bathroom, Jimin keeps his good conditioner out of it instead."

It's funny, 'cause you do exactly the same. Danbi has been blessed with hair from the Gods, so never has to pay much attention to what she uses. A string of bad dye jobs and unhealthy heat habits have left you with a deep conditioning complex, and there's nothing worse than going for a shower and realising the conditioner you paid and an arm and a leg for is all gone.

Will this stop you from using Jimin's special conditioner? No, absolutely not. You care more about your hair than you do about his annoyance.

"How are we doing this?" You ask casually as Jeongguk starts the shower up.

"Well," he contemplates far too hard for the sentence that follows. "I think we get in the shower, and then I think we... shower?"

"Right," you nod, as he grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Silly me. Of course it's that simple."

"Well it can be," he shrugs. "We both know we didn't really do the shower bird to completion, and aren't we saying 'fuck it', now? So why not?"

He's got a point. You feel far less on edge about the whole showering thing since the last time. It's like you've been working through it in stages, and it's helped.

"So..." you say quietly. "I don't know about you, Gguk, but I normally shower naked."

He just shrugs. "Really, Byeol? Do you not think we've already crossed that boundary? I'm quite literally staring at your tits right now."

You look down to your exposed chest, and suppose he's right.

"Just... don't look, okay? You get in the shower first and like, face the wall or something."

As much as he thinks you're being ridiculous and that it really doesn't matter, he agrees. Your birds are, after all, all about you, and what you're comfortable with. Just because he is doesn't mean you will be.

He strips down, and discards his clothes into a pile. He'd be lying if he said he was entirely confident, but he definitely feels the pressure a lot less than you do.

"I'm in," he says encouraging you to follow suit.

Against your better judgement, you do.

You toss you trousers on top of his, panties too, and make your way into his shower. It's warm, just the right temperature, still set to Jimin's preference from earlier.

"Now was that so hard?" Jeongguk asks, still facing the wall.

"No," you say airily. "I can see why you're an ass guy."

He turns his head, and sure enough, your eyes are on his ass. "Double standards."

"It's really good," you say, a little in shock at just how toned it is; how you'd kill for yours to be as peachy as his. "But you're right, you're right - I'm sorry."

"Can I at least turn around now?" He asks. "Seeing as you've already broken rule number one."

"What rule?!"

"Looking! You set the bloody rule!"

"Oh yeah," you grimace. Part of you considers turning around, but in all honesty, you don't want his ass-loving eyes to fall on yours and be disappointed. "Um, yeah. Sure. You can turn."

He's cupping his balls as he does so, hiding himself. It's sort of sweet in a way, and matches your own awkward stance.

"C'mon," he says, knocking his head back, encouraging you further into the stream of water. "Need to wash you off."

"You need to?"

"Well, yeah? Only fair. I'm the one who got you like that." He senses your hesitation, and offers you an out. "Or you can do it. I don't mind either way."

And for some reason, you don't actually seem to mind the suggestion. "Go for it."

He steps a little closer. "Say the word and I'll stop."

You reach for his hands. Lift them to your chest. "I don't think I'll say it."

He begins to massage at them, easing the paint off ever so gently, but it's stubborn. "Could do with some shower gel. Scent preference?"

"Hmm, strawberry?"

"Great choice."

You still find the fact he has more than one shower gel on the go hilarious, but you enjoy having a choice. It's one of the fantastic things about Jeongguk; you're never backed into a corner. He'll always give you an option. A way out.

And yet as he gets reacquainted with your chest, you don't think you want one. The things that scared you before - forgetting Seokjin, losing his touch - seem like a world away. Yes, it's different with Jeongguk, but it doesn't mean that it erases what you had with Seokjin. It also doesn't mean that you have to subject yourself to a life of boring sex just because you're harbouring guilt from a relationship breakdown that really wasn't your fault at all.

Seokjin had strayed, though. Made you feel like there was something wrong with you. Had you questioning the things you thought he'd loved about you - your tits included.

Seeing how Jeongguk - a self-professed ass guy - reacts to them has been so validating. So needed. Will do you wonders in the future, you're sure.

It's as he's kneading at your tits that you notice he's becoming a little moany, too. A little unstrained. God, it's so satisfying.

He closes his eyes. Rests his forehead on yours. Squeezes around your tits as he swallows so harshly you think you can almost hear it. Nods, and then says, "Still an ass guy - but fucking hell, Byeol. You might convert me."

You laugh now, and Jeongguk is obsessed with the way your boobs slide beneath his fingers, sopping wet and moving in time with your body. He still doesn't open his eyes.

"Fun aren't they?"

Again, he just nods. Doesn't wanna think about anything too hard.

If he does, he knows he'll have to deal with the fact his cock is now hard, too.

He thanks the high heavens that you just aren't mentioning it, because there's no way you haven't noticed.

It's not like he meant for it to happen. One moment he was trying to be respectful, and the next all he could think about it how soft and warm they are in his grasp. Was all beyond his control.

Thing is, Jeongguk has no idea how hard it is for you to resist reaching down for it. It feels like second nature; like it's what you should do.

But it's a boundary that's still intact, and you'd like to keep as many of those as possible.

So would he - but he's fucking solid , throbbing, balls tight. Can't remember the last time he got like this. Sure he's been hard. Been horny. But this is on another level.

And so he just says fuck it.

Tells you so.

"Byeol if I don't cum in the next five minutes I think I'm gonna die."

His admission takes you by surprise. You want to laugh, but remain deadly serious as you say, "I think you'll be fine."

"No," he insists. "I will actually die."

"How?"

"Ruptured ballsack?" He grimaces. "I don't know, but I do know that my life is quite literally flashing before my eyes right now."

"Poor baby," you pout, and stroke at his hair just to wind him up a little bit more.

"Don't," he whines. "I'm one more sarcastic comment away from sucking your tits just to shut you up. You know how many pairs of tits I've sucked?" He doesn't wait for an answer. " None . Always thought it was weird. But now? I'm so horny I'm literally delirious. Willing to do anything ."

Yeah right, you think.

"That's not very platonic of you," you state, using the exact tone of voice you know is winding him up.

"Byeol, I said one more."

"One more what?"

"God," he lets out a tortured sob. "It's like you want me to suck your tits."

"Me? Want that? Never ."

"But it wasn't on the bird," he says, as if the birds really do dictate every single one of his actions. "Can't do it."

"In all fairness, Gguk, nor was anything else that happened tonight. It was literally just the word ' tits '."

He tries to think straight, but he really can't. Doesn't know what's come over him. Maybe he's just tired. Maybe he just never knew how much he liked tits. Either way, he's absolutely done for.

He runs his thumbs over your nipples, and - fuck - the way you moan really does have him wanting to take them in his mouth. It's always been a no-go for him. Always thought the concept was a bit weird.

But it's all he can think about, now.

All he wants.

"Oh my god," he whines, again, obviously going through a little inner turmoil. His forehead drops to your shoulder. "Why do I want it? Why do I wanna suck your tits?"

"Mummy issues."

"Byeol! You're not helping."

"Just get yourself off," you laugh. "Once you get the orgasm out of you, you'll be able to think straight."

He nods. Knows you're right. "What about you? Do you need to?"

You've a much better grasp on your desperation than he does. You're a brat through and through, and find it hilarious that men seem to think they 'tame' you. In reality, you're the one who calls the shots. You're always in control. Just let them think they are.

With Jeongguk, you've not needed to play up for him, so you don't realise how unaware he is of the fact your inner thighs are coated in your slickness.

"Can do," you shrug.

"That's not a yes."

You roll your eyes. "Look at me."

He does as he's told, and you decide very quickly that he would be so incredibly easy to turn into your bitch if you wanted him to be. It's cute. His lips are parted, brows pushed together, a crease forming above his nose. He really does look like he might die. Poor baby.

Dipping your hands to where your legs part, you run two fingers along your folds, and hold them up for Jeongguk to see. You separate your fingers, the clear fluid suspended between the two of them. He whines again. Rests his head on your shoulder.

"The bird," he says. "The bird that we kinda did, but didn't do."

"What of it?" you toy, knowing exactly what he wants.

"Can we?" He rasps, unable to get his sentence out. One of his hands is on your chest, the other pressed flat to the tiles beside your head. His cock is desperate for contact. His hips are pulsing against nothing. If he doesn't grip onto it soon, he's gonna rut too far and end up touching you.

"You wanna get off together?"

He just nods. Mewls. "Please just give me the green light, Byeol. Please ."

And as much as you want to keep fucking with him, it feels cruel now. His veins are engorged, flooded with blood, in desperate need of him to do something - anything - to have his heart beating normally again.

"Okay," you whisper. "Get yourself off."

He doesn't waste a second. Has his hand around his cock by the time you've finished the sentence. The change in his breathing is stark. There's a moan caught with every tug on his cock, his hand moving at a speed you didn't was humanely possible.

And it excites you.

Has you clasping the tit that he isn't currently holding onto for dear life, while your other hand sinks to your folds. You're soaked , clit throbbing, begging for even the faintest bit of attention. When Jeongguk hears you moan too, he thinks he's done for. Holds his cock so tight he's scared he'll ruin his orgasm.

You know your body though. Know how to get yourself off within a minute when duty calls.

"Keep going," you tell him. "I can get close."

"That quickly?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Women are magic," you say between pants, dipping your fingers into your entrance for a little bit of fiction to your g-spot, just enough to really get you there.

"Fucking magic," he husks, his body edging a little closer to yours. You don't mind. In fact, you think you'll prefer it, so you let go of your chest and encourage him to close the gap. Your hand is on his waist, pulling him closer. He looks up. Regrets it, 'cause he never needed to see you looking like this. Doesn't ever wanna fuckin' look away. "Sure?"

"Mhhm," you moan, unable to get a word out because of how close you are - and then you can feel the tip of his cock press against your stomach, just below your ribcage. His movements are frantic.

"I'm not gonna last."

"Then don't."

His forehead rests on yours, the pair of you breathing so heavily that you're basically surviving on one another. Inhale, exhale. You're one and the same.

"Oh, fuck," you mewl, so incredibly close. Your fingers massage at your pussy just how you like it; spank against your clit a little, tease it to the near point of no return. "Gguk, I'm about to-"

"Me too," he chokes. "Where?"

"It's fine," you husk, knowing he's asking where to cum. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"Sure?"

"Just cum, Gguk."

"Shit."

The release is just as undignified as the build. The pair of you are messes, whining as you come undone together. The voltage runs from the tips of your toes to the tops of your fingers, so intense that they go fucking numb for a moment. You're overstimulated almost as soon as it hits, unable to do anything but pant against his shoulder.

The tip of Jeongguk's cock is pressed against your skin, his release painting you in the most glorious sin. He cums, but it feels like it never stops. Every time you think it has, he whines again, wanks a little more, unloads another spurt onto your torso. It trails down your hip, to your thigh and then sinks to the shower floor; washed away like a bad decision never to be repeated.

Breathlessness overcomes the pair of you, remaining as you are for a few moments, until Jeongguk finally breaks it.

"I swear I never usually cum that fast."

You just laugh. Pat his head. "Sure."

"Fuck off, I don't," he says, laughing now too. "Christ. What the fuck was that, Byeol?"

He lifts his posture from how it's rested against you, turning to press his shoulders to the tiles beside you. The shower is still running, so he reaches over to turn it off. Neither of you are fully clean yet, but you'll get back to it in a moment. No point in running his water bill up just because he can.

"Well," you exhale. "I think you just discovered boobs."

He laughs. Tilts his head back against the tiles. Bites his lips as he shakes his head. "To be fair, I think you might be right."

You laugh now too, and that's how the evening remains; full of laughter. Jokes about how platonic and totally friendly the entire exchange has been. There's no weirdness, but in all honesty, you never thought there would be.

Jeongguk lends you a pair of sweats and one of his shirts after the shower, your hair air drying beautifully thanks to Jimins oh-so-expensive conditioner. You feel a little bad for using it now, but you made him cum once, so you think you're even.

"And when Jimin asks where it's come from?" You question as you watch from Jeongguk's sofa while he hangs your artwork up on the wall. It's next to the television. Really fucking hard to miss. Will be the first thing he notices.

"I'll just say it's one of Tae's," Jeongguk shrugs.

"And when Tae comes round?"

"I'll... think of another lie?"

"Sounds foolproof," you muse, sipping on your glass of water, thinking that he's possibly the biggest idiot you know.

"Either way, neither of them will know what it is, or who made it. It'll be a mystery. Wait, unless," he stops himself. Furrows his brows together. Tries to join dots in his head. Even uses his hands to help with the mental work. "Would Jimin be able to tell?"

Your lips purse up, forming a thin line between your cheeks. You shake your head.

"No?"

"No," you say. "He never... Well, I meant what I said about them. Keeping them off limits. Or at least, kept."

"Yeah," Jeongguk nods, accepting your truth, but thinking of hypotheticals. "Did he not see them, like, at all?"

"Um," you say to buy time, questioning how much you should divulge. "You really wanna know?"

Jeongguk shrugs. Nods his head again. Makes no difference to him.

You adjust in your seat, trying to think of how to phrase the events of your night with Jimin, and finally settle on, "Well, I was fully clothed -"

"What?"

"- And we did it from behind." You watch as Jeongguk stays silent for a moment. He's doing that thinking face of his again. The hand is moving. Figuring things out. And then you realise what he's doing. "No! Gross! Don't imagine it!"

"I'm just trying to get a visual!" He protests with a small pout. "Just trying to understand how!"

"My god," you cringe, hiding your head in your hands. "Never should have done that bird with you."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes as he comes to sit beside you, admiring his handiwork. He actually really likes the painting. Is glad you added him to it, too.

"Yes, you should have," he says. "You admitted it yourself, you kept your tits off-limits, but it's clearly a big part of sex for you, right?"

You nod, not looking at him, but up at the canvas. It really is pretty. "Right."

"If you could do all that with me, you can do it with anyone else. It'll make a huge difference to how satisfying you find casual sex, which is like, the whole goal, right?"

And again, you nod.

"Exactly," he beams. "Now, say 'thank you Jeongguk'."

"I'm not saying thank you," you laugh. "You literally got cum on my feet. You should be thanking me."

"Oh my god," he groans. "I'm never showering with you again."

"It wasn't the shower that was the issue!"

The pair of you bicker a little more, until the reality of it being the early hours of the morning kicks in. You're both yawning, hardly able to keep your eyes open. He offers up his bed, but you'd feel guilty taking it two nights in a row, so call for a taxi instead.

You're still in his clothes, but you'll just return them the inevitable next time.

He tells you to let him know when you get home safe, and you do, only for him to reply a few minutes later with a message that makes you consider blocking him.

Jeongguk: Still an ass guy, btw.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[uunromanticized]

I saw your not feeling the best hope you feel better soon!! Life really do suck sometimes (allthetime) I’ll send you two separate asks for miraculous and dl❤️

Could I please request headcannons for how Marc and Luka would act around their crush if they were convinced they didn’t feel the same way about them

(They totally do though they’re just shy!!)

i love u for requesting abt my faves ur the sweetest ever actually 😭💙

marc & luka around a crush who (they think) doesn’t like them back

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔,

𝒊’𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈.

marc anciel

- this poor boy is just a giant ball of nerves

- he definitely tries to avoid you like the plague because he thinks that might help his feelings

- however if you’re friends he definitely isn’t the type of person who just stops being friends with someone because they don’t share his feelings

- if you’re friends though you can definitely tell that something is up because he stumbles on his sentences more than usual

- he definitely writes cute little stories with you and him starring in them me thinks

- when you try to get closer to him because you like him, he just pulls back further

- genuinely i don’t think he ever works up the nerve to tell you his feelings & instead he’s pushed to do so

- suddenly you guys are on really awkward ‘friend dates’ because your other friends ‘pulled out of going’ (they were never going to go)

- when that doesn’t work i can imagine someone like nathaniel just dropping a page of one of the stories for you to find

- when you approach him about it he feels like an absolute fucking idiot until you say you feel the same, then he’s the most starry-eyed guy on earth

luka couffaine

- luka i feel definitely has a more direct and simple approach to these things

- he’s a laid back guy, i don’t imagine him having severe anxiety about it like marc

- however, similar to marc, he also writes about you in his own field. aka: makes songs

- he’ll probably hold off on asking you out for a bit if he’s that certain you wouldn’t like him back

- kind of eases into it. asks a known couple to go somewhere with him and then asks you to go too so you’re both like the third wheel. he’s a smart guy

- gets a feel for things from there from your body language & how you react to him

- drops a few hints, and if you have a shy (keyword shy, not nervous) reaction to it he gets his go ahead

- i feel like he’d ask you out by singing you a song he wrote for you and THEN asking

- he’s definitely very laidback about it. while he’s convinced at first, he still wants to get a feel for it and go from there basically.

- afterwards he’s the best boyfriend ever.