#my fourth will be spent fucking unpacking as much as i can

[queenerdloser]

i finally (FINALLY) got all of my shit out of my old apartment and left it somewhat clean and empty behind me. now my car is full of junk and i just need to unpack everything and throw away all my boxes [lies down on floor]

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Three)

3.9k words - Rated M (language)

Here it is, my most favourite chapter to date, I hope you enjoy!

You smooth the skirt of your soft, black-linen sundress with shaky hands and pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re regretting not packing anything warmer than the denim jacket currently wrapped around your shoulders when you’re interrupted by the disgruntled sounds of your father calling your name through the phone speaker.

“What?” you ask, exasperated. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.”

He repeats himself in annoyance, “I said, are you okay with staying at the hotel and ordering dinner for yourself?”

Staring at the restaurant in front of you, you debate whether or not to explain your situation to him. You realise, however, that he probably has enough to worry about after today’s events at Silverstone, and his daughter being out to dinner with another team’s driver probably won’t go over well.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I could use a quiet night in. Will you grab something to eat for yourself on your way back?”

Your dad hums, and you can tell that once he heard the confirmation that he didn’t need to get dinner for you, he lost interest in anything you had to say after the fact. It’s not difficult for you to understand why. Still, the lack of a verbal response worries you and you find it hard to evade the thoughts about Max and the accident. To most, the fact that he got out of the car and could walk was a good sign, but you’re still plagued by the various possibilities of what the hospital tests will conclude and just how bad the damage really is.

“Will you let me know if he’s okay?” you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing the phone closer to your ear, as if you could hone in on the doctor’s discussions in the background to find out whether Max was going to be alright.

Your dad simply hums again. “I’ll text you when we know more, but I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, dad,” you murmur.

His quick Bye, love you is rapidly replaced with the end-of-call dial tone.

You slip the phone into your jacket pocket and take a deep breath, preparing to head inside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but clock the bright orange McLaren already stationed in the parking lot when your Uber arrived. You recognised it from a picture in the article you read when you first learned of Lando’s incident at Wembley. You’re thankful for the sign that he’s already here and you dredge up the remaining ounces of fake confidence left in your body, making an effort to quickly smooth down your hair before you open the door and enter the restaurant.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer atmosphere of elegance. Hand-painted horizons adorn the walls, encapsulated by swirling silver frames and accentuated by the small lights stationed above each piece of artwork, their job for the night to highlight the colours and shading the artist undoubtedly spent hours perfecting.

The savoury scents of garlic and soy originate in the kitchen and permeate across the premises with ease, challenged only by the rousing aroma of the stunning frangipanis adorning the entrance.

A woman you guess to be around your age approaches you with a notepad and pen in hand. She’s dressed in a black bodycon skirt with a hem that scrapes the top of her knees; her matching coloured button up shirt is tucked in smoothly. “Hi,” she greets with a small smile, “Would you like me to show you to the bar?”

“Oh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone here,” you tell her, eyes scanning the room for Lando.

You see him before he sees you.

He’s tucked away at a table in the corner, his brown curls peaking over the top of the large menu he's studying.

“Found him, thanks,” you tell the waitress and she returns to her station as you make your way across the restaurant towards Lando.

He looks up from the menu as your figure appears in his peripherals and he shoots you a wave when you’re a few metres away. You return his gesture with a small laugh and he stands, walking to the front of the table to greet you.

“Hey,” he says, enveloping you in a one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him, noticing the almost empty glass of beer in front of him as he returns to his seat.

“It wasn’t too long, don’t worry,” he reassures you.

The reality of the situation fails to present itself to you until you and Lando are seated silently across from one another. Your stomach is tightly wound with nerves but Lando appears just as anxious, noticeably fidgeting in his seat and frequently straightening his knife and fork. He’s dressed rather sharp compared to what you’d been treated to in the past, the blue and orange race suit discarded for a crisp white button down and black dress shorts. You wonder whether the outfit you picked out is suitable for tonight, although you cut yourself some slack. When you’d packed your suitcase on Wednesday, you’d hardly expected to spend any time outside of the Red Bull garage or your hotel room, let alone situated in a restaurant that was, now very obviously, out of your price range. The thought causes you to send a silent prayer to whoever would listen that you had enough in your spending account to pay your half of the final bill tonight.

The woman who greeted you earlier approaches the table to ask what drinks the two of you would like to order.

Lando asks for a cola and you look at him in confusion.

“You’re not going to have another one?” you ask him as he hands over his empty beer glass.

“No, I’m not a big drinker,” he replies, “Especially not during the season.”

“So why did you invite me to have drinks then?” you ask, clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Lando Norris?”

He laughs, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey! No, nothing like that. I just don’t really drink, I never have.”

“Yeah I kinda noticed that actually,” you tell him. “Even on your podiums you don’t drink the champagne.”

“I thought you didn’t watch Formula 1?”

You wish you could wipe the stupid smirk off of his face as you practically watch the realisation form in his head. “Have you been watching my old races?”

“No,” you retort somewhat unconvincingly. “I found some highlights on YouTube though, and your podiums from Spielberg and Imola were on there.”

“My podium finish in Monaco is pretty good too. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime, though, it’s a shame that you find racing so boring.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Shut up.”

The warm glow emitting from the industrial-style bulbs resting overhead doesn’t help the blush settling on your cheeks, and neither does the grin Lando shoots you. You shrug off your jacket and place it carefully on the back of your seat just as the waitress arrives with your freshly poured Caiproska. You thank her and trace your fingers along the cool side of the glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that form in hopes that they’ll provide some sort of relief from your keen fever.

Lando’s gaze is strong enough that you feel him watching you without having to look across at him, it transcends the need for observed confirmation and instead sets your body alight merely at the thought of it. The thrum of your heart threatens to escape the confines of your chest and you stupidly pray that he doesn’t hear it as the exposed skin of your chest flushes scarlet against the dark neckline of your dress. You clasp the charm that sits at your throat, pinching it between your fingers and allowing yourself to bask in the minimal relief the cold metal provides against your warm skin.

Lando wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and takes a deep breath. “So, that was a pretty crazy race today, huh? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto fourth place, not with another Ferrari behind me and Daniel.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” is all you can reply before delving back into your pocket at what you think is the sound of your phone receiving a message.

God, he thinks, he’s boring you half to death. He finally has you all to himself and the only topic he can string more than a few words together for is his job, treating you like a reporter he’s obligated to unpack his strategy for in the paddock. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous tonight, he wasn’t nearly this wound up when he’d asked you out. Sure, it was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he locked his car and crossed the parking lot, but he convinced himself it was just the gentle breeze passing through the city that set his flesh alight with goosebumps. He was simply excited, more than anything, to spend some one-on-one time with someone his own age, and if that someone happened to be a pretty girl, who could blame him for looking forward to it?

But then you showed up in that dress and suddenly the possibility that he’d see you out of it by the end of the night if he played his cards right became more and more realistic. His head spins at the thought of taking you home tonight. And the next night. And suddenly the thought is replaced by the images of himself coming home to you every night. After months overseas with nothing but timezone-dependent calls he returns to the comfort of your embrace, it’s your fingers that gently scrape the back of his neck as a confirmation that he’s home. It’s the warmth of your body and the lilt of no one else’s voice that cures the cavity in his chest that enveloped him the moment he shut the apartment door behind him all those weeks ago. He sees you seated on his kitchen counter, legs swinging as the coffee brews each morning, and asleep on his couch every night even after you’d promised if he let you pick the movie you’d stay awake this time.

He knows he’s in way over his head. He only just met you, what, three days ago? Yet here he sits, wishing there was some magic rule book that could explain how he could make sure his time with you never ends. He wishes he’d met you long before this week –honestly, it feels like he’s known you for much longer–so that the heat that rises underneath his shirt and the lump in his throat doesn't lend itself to the idea that he’s just some lust-fuelled boy. Your text messages make him laugh like no one else’s have before and the thought that you were watching him this afternoon, after you weren’t initially planning to stay for the race, had him feeling more confident than he has all season.

He knows he can’t tell you all that, it’s way too soon and you’ll think he’s crazy. He has to think of something interesting to talk to you about to fill the minutes before he feels it appropriate to ask you out for a second time, but instead he sits in silence as you refuse to meet his gaze. Your eyes won’t stop lingering on your phone screen, or darting around the restaurant, undoubtedly searching for distractions. Signs on the wall you could read to pass the time until the check comes, or maybe you’re searching for a saviour, a bartender to lock eyes with who’ll answer your silent plea: get me the hell out of here. He’s caught off guard when your eyes make their way back to him, his heart skips a singular beat like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s preparing himself to appear nonchalant in response to the immaculately crafted excuse you’re undoubtedly about to deliver in order to explain your sudden escape from his company, when a small smile forms on your lips instead.

He smiles back.

“Sorry,” he explains. “I know I talk a lot about racing. It’s kind of my whole life at the moment so it’s easy for me to get carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to it anyway. It’s basically all we talk about at the dinner table when my dad’s home.”

“Well, what do you like to talk about? I saw on your Instagram that you’re studying advertising, tell me something about that.”

You smile at his consideration and tell him all about your degree. How you’ve always had an interest in design and noticed how it could be used to turn a profit, right from when you would try your hand at creating the posters for your school’s bake sales and car washes. You tell him the story of your first paid commission for a digital advertisement, an intricately crafted Instagram post for an up-and-coming clothing boutique based in London. He asks questions in all the right places and offers his congratulations when you show him screenshots of some of your most successful work.

Conversation ebbs and flows easily throughout the night, the nerves that had you second guessing your decision to come earlier tonight eradicated. The food is tremendous, and your company even better. Your waitress returns with the final bill for the night and Lando hands his card over without hesitation.

“Hey, no,” you say. “Let me pay for my half.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “This was my way of repaying you for bringing my watch back, remember?”

Oh. That’s all tonight was for. He felt obligated to spend money on you in return for the trouble you’d gone through to return his stolen timepiece to him.

“When I talked to the police they said they could get me the money back once the guy was caught,” you stress. “So, you don’t need to do that.”

He brushes your statement off with a wave of his hand and smiles when the waitress returns with his card and a receipt.

Your mind mistakes the reverberation of champagne flutes clinking together for the chime of your text tone and you instinctively reach into your purse, hoping to see the screen alight with good news. You’d settle for any news really, so long as it meant you would finally get a clear picture of what was going on, and you could stop embellishing the details of the worst case scenario you had designed in your head.

A 51G impact like the one you had witnessed today can do a lot of damage to the body, whether visible from the outside or not, and you hoped, more than anything, that the helmet and halo were enough to protect Max from anything more than a few minor scrapes and bruises.

You’re lost in a world of nightmarish outcomes until you remember where you are. Lando’s face is contorted in a concerned frown across from you.

“Everything alright?” he asks gently.

“Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard my phone go off but it must’ve been something else.”

“It’s getting pretty noisy in here, do you want to head outside?” he offers.

“Okay.”

———

In the slight summer breeze you observe the moonlight washing across Lando’s figure, illuminating his features softly and elucidating the closeness of his face to yours. The proximity allows you to easily breathe in the pleasant cedarwood undertones of the cologne that adorns his skin, and allows him to imagine the sweet ropy flavour undoubtedly lingering on your tongue from the maraschino cherries you’d so delicately placed between your teeth throughout night.

The crinkles that form at the edges of his eyes as he meets your gaze with a smile are priceless. You wish you could bottle the feeling they give you and save it for a day you need it most.

“I had a nice time,” he tells you, practically beaming. “I can’t remember the last time I went out after a race and talked about stuff other than racing.”

“Yeah it was nice, dinner was really good too.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in silence while you wait for your Uber to arrive. Lando had insisted on driving you back to your hotel but you knew his car would cause a fuss so you declined and told him you had an Uber discount code that was due to expire. You make an effort to seem fascinated by the cracks in the sidewalk and Lando acts intrigued by the streetlights, both of you dancing around the question that lingers unspoken in the air.

Are we going to meet up again?

The alert on your phone informs you that your driver is only a minute away.

“He’s almost here,” you tell Lando. “Thank you so much for paying for dinner, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay!” he insists. He shifts his weight on his feet before offering his arms to you.

You accept his invitation and hug him goodbye. You can’t help but notice the heat radiating through his thin shirt and feel his heart hammering between your two chests. His fingertips burn brands into your skin as they rest softly on your back and when he pulls back from you his hands don’t move an inch.

You catch his gaze and feel his thumb sweep softly over the fabric of your dress, underneath your jacket, before his lips meet yours in a searing kiss.

You’re caught off guard to say the least. His hands are hot on your back but his lips are soft and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t sending your head into a frenzy.

The rest of the day’s events are temporarily overruled by Lando kissing you; lying to your dad about where you are, wishing you could celebrate Lando’s fourth place finish with him in his garage, the repetitive questions aimed at you by the police that had you exhausted by mid morning, let alone Max’s accident.

Max.

And suddenly it’s not Lando’s but another pair of lips that are on yours, larger and hungrier and they come with a devastating reminder of what it’s like to sneak around with a Formula 1 driver. The lying and heartache that you remember all too clearly to feel like the kind of falling that jolts you awake from dreams.

You pull back and place your hands on Lando’s shoulders, staring down.

He’s instantly apologetic, bringing a hand through the front of his hair. “Sorry, I thought…fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, removing your hands and wrapping them around yourself. “It’s okay, um my car’s here anyway so I gotta go.”

He just nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.

The slamming of the car door feels like a hammer pounding in Lando’s head. For a moment he had you. In his hand was the opportunity to make something great out of your meeting, but he wrapped his fingers inward and crushed it in an instant.

———

When you wake the next morning, your head remains sore from the screeching of car engines throughout your eventful weekend. Though not particularly unbearable at the time, the accumulation of noise over the three days you were at the track had definitely built up.

Instinctively, you check your phone, assuming that you would be confronted with your typical notifications: a recommended Instagram account, a liked Tweet, maybe even a text. You know you’re being optimistic to expect anything from Lando, your mind refusing to stop reminding you of how awkward you had made your time together the night before. Still, you yearn for any sort of reassurement that it wasn’t as bad as your overthinking had made it out to be.

You read the time and see that it’s almost noon. You know that your dad will be out until around two o’clock, already fussing about with work related ordeals in order to have things perfect for the race in Hungary. When you eventually awaken enough to read the notifications on your phone, you find it difficult to hide your surprise as you find a text and missed call from Lando, the nervous feeling that you endured last night returns, sinking into your stomach like a stone.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I had a really nice time last night :) Sorry if I was too forward at the end, I hope it didn’t ruin your night or anything.

Biting back a smile as you read the text, your mind is put at ease as you realise that he enjoyed himself as much as you did. You’re tempted to text him back immediately and tell him that he’s being silly, that of course he didn’t ruin your night. You wish you could explain your situation with Max and how, if it were any other night than the one your ex-boyfriend spent in hospital, you would have kissed Lando back. However, your plan to reply is thwarted as you notice the notification that informs you Lando also left you a voicemail. He must have called some time after sending his initial text message. Finger hovering over the play button, you are hopeful that it’s further kind words about your time together, or perhaps an invitation for a second ‘date’. If you could call it that. Nevertheless, you push the button.

The disappointed sigh he lets out causes your heart to stutter, before his voice crackles through the phone speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling, I know I already texted you and um… I hate that I have to do this but I think it would be better for you to hear it from me instead of finding out online or something. I’ve just seen that someone got pictures of us together last night. I didn’t think anyone who knew me would be there but I guess it was still close enough to Silverstone that someone recognised who I was. I’m really sorry, but if it is any help I don’t think anyone recognised you because your face isn’t really in the photos. I’m trying to get them taken down and it’s not really on Instagram or in the news or anything, but lots of people on Twitter are talking about it. If there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen at his words, breath hitching in your throat as you process it. You replay the message over and over, as if hearing it multiple times will change the bad news Lando delivers each time. Instinctually, you close the app and scrub your hands over your face. You wonder about what exact kind of picture the photos he’s referring to imply. Does it paint a picture that could get you in trouble?

What about Lando?

Fuck.

What about your dad?

Your stomach drops at the thought of him seeing them. Getting caught lying about your whereabouts was one thing, but being caught with Lando Norris while you promised you were tucked up in the confines of your hotel room opens up a whole new world of possible consequences.

As if the universe can read your mind, it delivers your worst nightmare to you on a silver platter, piping hot and laced with venom.

A notification appears from your dad.

Call me when you’re awake.

-------

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love​ 

[moldisgoodforyou]

home again

wordcount: 7.9k

warnings: brief smut moment, mentions of sexual content

________

Rafe double, triple-checked their plane tickets when they went back home from Rome. They’d bought them separately but somehow he was convinced he’d screwed it up again - when he reached for his phone a fourth time on the train to the airport, Sophie reached over and took it with a shake of her head.

After making it through security and buying two breakfast sandwiches for them, Rafe tucked his backpack under her feet. “Can you watch this for a second?”

“Yeah, where are you going?” Sophie asked curiously.

“I’ll be right back.” He answered vaguely, kissing her forehead. When he returned, he had an entire bag full of Italian snacks and candies, all indecipherable except for a small bag of dark chocolate M&Ms that he tossed at Sophie. Her face lit up as she caught it and realized. “Oh my god, I missed these.”

He grinned and slid into the seat next to her, dumping the snacks into his backpack. “I know you did. I figured we could try these on the plane, for some entertainment.”

“I’m not gonna be able to sleep.” She tore open the packet and poured some into her hand before offering it to him.

He accepted a few, but not too much more. “Good, you said we weren’t supposed to sleep. We’ll be all jetlagged.”

“But I’m tired.” She whined, dropping her head to his shoulder.

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lowering his voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t have convinced me to sleep with you last night then. Until 3am.”

She blushed and shot him an indignant glare. “You started it in the shower.”

“You dropped to your knees in the shower first.” He smirked. “This is your fault.”

“Nothing is ever my fault.” She declared. “You’re just too hot, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.” The airport called for boarding over the speakers and he hauled her up, pulling out their passports and walked with her to the line. He paused when she moved forward. “Wait, Sophie, aren’t we sitting together?”

“No, I’m 23A.”

“And I’m 23B - wait, no, shit, I’m not.” He frowned and glanced down at his ticket. “I’ll fix this.”

“Rafe, you don’t have to -”

Her argument fell on deaf ears as he went forward, glancing at people’s tickets. She held back a smile as he put on his best southern drawl and his most charming grin as he talked with the woman in 23B, convincing her eventually - with twenty dollars - to trade seats once they were on the plane. Once they boarded, he gave her a smug smile as he sat next to her, putting up the arm rest so she could lean into him.

“How much did you bribe her with?”

“Bribe? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never bribed anyone in my life.”

_____

The entire ride home, he didn’t sleep at all. Sophie fell asleep on him within minutes, curled into him comfortably, and he didn’t dare move and wake her up. When they made it back to Columbus and James and Colin picked them up - with a ‘welcome back from federal prison’ sign. Sophie just grinned and greeted them both with a big hug, giggling when James kissed her cheek and Rafe socked him in the arm. The whole drive back, she chattered excitedly, filling the boys in on all her adventures while Rafe barely stayed awake, his head slumped onto her shoulder.

They went straight to Rafe’s senior house to relax and she gave herself a tour right away, impressed by the clean house and lack of lewd decor. (It was going up next week, anyways.)

She wasn’t tired at all as she strolled into his room, making a big deal of the newly painted walls and a few plants scattered around on shelves. “Check it out! This looks so good, Rafe!”

He yawned - again - and flopped onto his bed. “Shh.”

“Didn’t you sleep?” She did the same, sprawling out on his bed. “I can’t believe you have a king-sized bed, I’m never staying at my place.”

“No. Couldn’t sleep.” He stretched his neck uncomfortably, groaning. She nudged him over, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and he shook his head. “Nooo. I’m too tired for sex.”

She giggled and tugged again. “It’s not that. Sit up, I’ll rub your back.”

He sat up just enough to tug his shirt over his head and flopped back down to the mattress on his stomach. She crawled onto him and straddled him to massage his shoulders, digging her thumbs into the base of his neck. He groaned, twisting a little. “Lotion. In my nightstand drawer.”

“Ew, is that for -”

“My hands get dry, dummy, get your head out of the gutter.”

She flicked his neck. “Be nice or I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, baby, stay.” He whined, flexing his back a little as she stretched. She smiled to herself, appreciating his muscles and traced a finger down his spine. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Watch your hands.”

“I’m just touching your back.” She dug in a little harder into his shoulders, grinning when he groaned in appreciation.

“Yeah, and I know how touchy you can get.” He quipped, closing his eyes and letting her continue the massage. “Handsy.”

She teased his fingertips under the waistband of his shorts. “You’re gonna have to shower anyways.”

It took about two seconds for him to change his mind. “Hmm….fine. But I’m not gonna do any work if you start something.” He yawned. “And you’re not done on my back.”

She rolled her eyes and got back to work, pleased by his little satisfied noises. She was just about to roll him back over and tug down his shorts when James slammed his palm on the door. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe, we don’t want to hear you jacking off!”

“Jesus Christ, James, come in!” Rafe yelled back with annoyance lacing his tone. James came in to see their (mainly) innocent position. “Oh. It sounded like you were doing something else. Hi Sophie, I didn’t know you were still here.”

She giggled, crawling off of Rafe. “Hey. We weren’t -”

“Yeah, I can see that. My bad.” He went to leave and paused, sticking his head back in the door. “You should know, though, my room’s right below his. And we all share that bathroom, so I’d prefer things to be cleaned. Regularly.”

“Get out, James.” Rafe pointed with a glare. James nodded with a grin and left, the door clicking shut behind him. Sophie gave him an apologetic smile. “He’s really just below us?”

“Yeah. I don’t fucking care, I told him I’d buy him a white noise machine. C’mere.” He flipped over and pulled her up to his hips, groaning obnoxiously loud when his hard cock brushed against her core.

She giggled, rocking back and forth on him. “Now you’re just being annoying.”

“Good. He’s been worse, bringing home a different girl every weekend for a straight month before I left. Colin says he’s going through his hoe phase.” He yawned, tugging at her shirt. “You have about ten minutes to fuck me before I pass out in this bed.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, pulling off her shirt. “That’s it? Sure it’s worth it?”

“Angel, please.” He nearly begged, pulling her down to kiss her desperately, grinding his hips against hers.

“Okay, okay, you’re so needy.” She teased. “Let me just take care of you.”

“No, I want -” He started, cutting himself off when she pulled out his hard cock from his shorts and stroked down his length, making him hiss. “Okay. That’s fine.”

She rolled her eyes and ducked down to take him into her mouth, not giving any warning. He nearly groaned again until she reached up and slapped her free hand over his mouth. “Shh. Stay quiet or I’ll stop.”

He let his head fall back so she couldn’t see him and fisted the sheets, bucking up into her mouth. “So good. So fucking good, baby.” He mumbled against her hand, just loud enough that Sophie could hardly hear.

It didn’t take long for him to come, especially with the way she sucked on him and twisted her wrist at the same time. When he did, her hand still clapped against his mouth, he let out a satisfied sigh and grinned down at her. “You’re incredible.”

She removed her hand and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re too easy. I think that was four minutes.”

“Can’t help it. You were all touchy, you know what that does to me.” He tried pulling her close, all sleepy, and she gently swatted her hands away.

“No, baby. I gotta go home and shower, then unpack. And I want to get dinner with Allie and Jules.”

He frowned. “What about me?”

“I’ve been with you nonstop for three whole weeks.” She grinned and gave him another short kiss. “You’ll be okay. We’re gonna have to go back to sleeping apart sometimes.”

“Noooo.” He grumbled, reaching for her as she stood and tugged her shoes back on.

“Welcome back to reality, Cameron.”

“But you - you need your turn -” He tried arguing helplessly and she just grinned.

“I own a vibrator, remember?”

“Fuck. That thing.”

“Don’t worry.” She leaned against the wall with a smirk, arms crossed. “I’ll let you borrow it sometime. Can you drive me?”

Rafe sighed but ambled out of bed, tugging his shorts back up and pulling his shirt on. “This is not how I expected the night to go.”

“We both know you’re gonna pass out in bed the second you get back. Hopefully after a shower.”

“Yeah, probably.” He yawned, stretching. “If I’m not texting you by one in the afternoon tomorrow please check on me.”

She nodded seriously and shook his hand, making him laugh. “You have a deal. Don’t forget you have to pack though, we’re going home in two days.”

“We are home…?”

“Home home. Remember? We booked the flights yesterday in Rome?”

He nodded in recognition, casting a glance at his stuffed suitcase on the ground. “Right. Remind me why I couldn’t just ask for the plane?”

She scowled before she could catch herself. “I thought you didn’t want to see your dad when you were home.”

“Touché.” Rafe noticed her scowl but didn’t mention it, not having the energy to persist. He grabbed his keys and took her hand, bringing her out to the car. “C’mon, my chariot awaits.”

____

The two of them spent their two days before going home very differently - Rafe slept nearly the entire time, woke up at night to go get tacos with the boys, then went back to bed. Sophie decorated her entire room within four hours, set up her senior architecture studio, and had meetings with a professor, an advisor, and the co-president of the alumni mentorship program. (Rafe was exhausted just from seeing her texts about her schedule.)

The girls dropped them off at the airport only forty five minutes before their flight, despite Rafe’s protests that it wasn’t nearly enough time and Sophie’s argument that she’d made a flight with less time on a tiny airline in Spain. Their flight was inconvenient, as always - they had to fly into Virginia and take a 2.5 hour ferry to get back home. When they finally arrived, greeted by the familiar summer humidity and the smell of the sea, her brother picked them up to bring them to Sophie’s.

“Soph!” He yelled out the window from the pickup line. Rafe noticed immediately and straightened up, grabbing her bag as well as his to walk to the car.

She beamed, waving as they came closer, and slid into the front seat while Rafe put their suitcases in the back. “Carter! Hi! I thought you were moving this weekend?”

“I pushed it back a couple weeks, wanted to see you before I left. How was Barcelona?” He glanced back and nodded at Rafe briefly in the backseat. “Rafe.”

“Hey. Thanks for picking us up.” Rafe smiled politely, nearly crammed into the backseat because of how far back Sophie’s seat was. He assumed Carter had moved it before he came to pick them up, but didn’t dare say a word.

“Yeah, no problem.” The rest of the ride was just the two siblings talking, mainly Sophie telling him about her study abroad and the trips she’d taken with Rafe. Carter kept his eye on Rafe in the backseat at a few parties of her story, especially when she stuttered over talking about swimming in Nice and Rafe’s birthday. (Rafe very pointedly looked out the window to avoid his eyes.)

They were greeted by Sophie’s dad when Carter pulled the car up in the driveway. He wrapped Sophie in a tight, smothering hug when she jumped out of the car, the two of them sharing matching grins. “Hey, Sophie girl.”

“Hi Dad.” She mumbled against his shirt, hugging him tight. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He finally let her go and welcomed Rafe in for a hug too, ignoring his handshake. “Nice to see you too, kiddo.”

“You too, Mr. Flint.” He beamed and excused himself from the hug quickly to get both his and Sophie’s suitcases, ever the gentleman in his presence. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it.”

Her dad nodded with a smile, taking Sophie’s bag from him. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to your spot in the guest room. Soph, your mom’s out running errands, I thought we could all head out to the course for a round if you’re not too tired?”

“Sure, that sounds fine. Dad, did you forward that study I emailed you about using filtered stormwater for the course to the groundskeeper? So it’s more eco-friendly?” Sophie asked over her shoulder, leading the way inside and upstairs.

Jeff sent Rafe a knowing smile behind her back, shaking his head. Ever since Sophie really got into eco conservation in high school, she’d been pushing more and more for the entire family to make small changes. Her efforts got more and more involved as she learned more in college, and she’d had meetings with the groundskeeper at the country club no less than five times - he listened politely as a favor to her dad, but that was all. “I sent it, yes. I’m not sure how well it was received.”

“Oh, well, I can send you some more resources. It’s good to at least provide the options, you know?” She turned back and took her bag into her room, automatically going for Rafe’s as well.

Rafe smiled, subtly pulling it away and tried to redirect her dad’s attention. “Um, which one’s the guest room?”

“Other end of the hallway, just opposite Carter’s room.” Jeff gave him a pointed look and he nodded quickly. “Great, thank you.”

“Dad, you’re not seriously making him stay in there.” Sophie argued, giving her dad a pleading look.

“No, it’s fine! I’m sure it’s perfect, I’ll go make myself at home.” Rafe quickly excused himself, heading down the hall and just barely stayed in earshot of the two.

Her dad regarded her carefully. “Sophie, you can’t really expect me to believe you two had been in separate dorms that entire trip like you’ve been telling your mother, can you?”

She grew embarrassed, leaning against her doorway. “Dad...”

“I’m not oblivious, honey, I just hope you’re being safe -”

“Dad! Please. I don’t want to talk about this with you. Ever.” She told him with wide eyes and red cheeks, backing into her room slowly.

“Alright, just. Be careful. Both of you.” He warned her, patting her shoulder before heading back down the stairs, calling out loudly over his shoulder. “Be ready in fifteen!”

She just groaned and flopped back onto her bed.

“Ready, kids?” Jeff called up the stairs, exactly fifteen minutes later. Sophie was in the guest room with Rafe, sporting a golf tank from high school and a matching skort. The tank was a little tight across the chest and she’d flaunted into his room with it unbuttoned to completely show off her boobs, showing him exactly what was underneath.

“Yes sir!” Rafe called back, a little higher pitched than normal, and shoved Sophie’s shoulder lightly. “Button that up,” he hissed.

“You’re a prude.” She rolled her eyes, buttoning it back up to her neck but adjusted her skort to sit a little higher. (Nothing too inappropriate, but it was just enough to drive Rafe crazy.)

“I’m not - we are going golfing with your father, baby, and you look like several dreams I’ve had in high school. Do not pull something. Fix your skirt.”

She perked up, taking a step closer. “You dreamed about me in high school? What kind of dreams?”

“No. We’re not doing this.” He told her, but she didn’t miss the way he reached in his pocket and grimaced for a moment. “Behave.”

She grinned and practically skipped downstairs, with Rafe following close behind. “We’re ready! Dad, can we just play 9 today? I wanted to go hang out on the beach with Rafe later.”

“Our reservation’s for the full 18. What, you don’t want to play a full round with your old man?” Her dad teased, but she could hear the tiny tone of hurt underneath.

“We can go to the beach another time, the full 18’s perfect.” Rafe interjected. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with you though, Mr. Flint, I haven’t really played since last year.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, I saw your form earlier this summer.” Her dad replied cheerfully, not noticing as Sophie mouthed “suck up” to Rafe behind his back.

They all drove to the course and split into carts, her dad in one and Rafe and Sophie in the other. As they rode to the second hole, Sophie kicked her feet up on the dash, ignoring the golf etiquette standard. “Hey, Rafe.”

He instantly reached over and shoved her feet off, casting a glance toward her dad to make sure he didn’t see. “Yes ma’am.”

“You think we could pull off a quickie tonight?”

He fixed her with a glare, unamused. “Sophie. Do not.”

She just smirked as she skipped off the cart to the hole, club in hand. She didn’t quit the entire rest of the game, murmuring little dirty things into his ear on the cart or pretending like she was going to flash him, bursting into giggles as he nearly wrecked the cart trying to lunge across the seat to keep her shirt down. Rafe was entirely distracted the whole game, trying to stay as civil as possible around her dad while also keeping Sophie in check.

Her competitive streak kicked in around the sixth hole, when she was losing by just enough. Jeff kept pointing out little imperfections in her form - her arms were bent too far, her hips didn’t rotate enough, her head wasn’t down for long enough - and Rafe winced nearly every time. Sophie took it all in stride though, and he had to remind himself that criticism from a parent was fine when it was paired with constant encouragement after she improved.

Her dad was a little more sensitive to how Rafe responded to criticism, starting everything with a compliment first and then phrasing the critique as a suggestion. At the end of the game - despite Rafe barely losing to Sophie, Jeff coming in first - he nudged Rafe and gave him an encouraging grin. “You’re looking good, kid. Might beat this one if she wasn’t so annoying.”

“Dad!” Sophie exclaimed. “I didn’t do a thing -”

“I raised you better than to whistle on the golf course, Soph.” Her dad pointed out as he poked her in the leg with his club. “Breaking every single etiquette rule out there.”

“It’s a simple distraction technique.” She protested with a sheepish grin. She had whistled at Rafe when he bent over to place his ball on the tee - twice - and thought her dad hadn’t noticed either time.

“If you’re using distraction to win the game, maybe you aren’t good enough.” Her dad retorted, laughing as Rafe’s eyebrows shot up at the same time as Sophie’s. “Go drive the carts back, I’ll meet you two at the car.” As Sophie grinned and started toward her dad’s cart, he called after her again. “No racing! Not again!”

She just ignored him and Jeff turned to Rafe with an exasperated grin. “I’m not sure how you kept up with her for that long in Europe.”

“I’m not entirely sure either, sir.” Rafe told him with a smile.

____

When they came back to the house, all a little sweaty, her mom had a tray of lemonade and snacks set out for all of them. “Mrs. Flint, hi. Thank you for this.” Rafe thanked her immediately, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Rafe, it’s good to see you, thank you for keeping an eye on my child the past few weeks.” Her mom greeted with a teasing grin. “Sophie, Angie is coming over with the twins any second now, can you two watch them for a couple hours?”

Sophie scowled, flopping back into her chair and only straightened up instinctively when her mom tapped her shoulders. “Rafe and I were going to -”

“No, that’s fine, we don’t have plans.” Rafe cut her off quickly, nudging Sophie’s foot with his. “Who’s Angie?”

“Angie’s my older cousin, she just had her babies around February.” Sophie informed him. “They’re kind of cute, I guess.”

“They’re very cute, and it’s just so Angie and your aunt and I can go shopping for more baby clothes. You haven’t met them yet, you should be excited to see them.” Her mom chastised with a shake of her head. “You’ll have your own soon enough, so this’ll be a learning experience.”

Sophie nearly spat out her lemonade, affronted. “Mom!”

“Don’t be dramatic, Sophie.” She tutted and went back inside.

Sophie gaped after her, shaking her head. “Ignore her. Go shower, I’ll shower when you’re done.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that exchange, always a little confused by her mom’s well-intentioned insults. “I thought the kids were coming…?”

“Yeah, I can handle them and then we’ll swap.” She grinned, lowering her voice. “Or we could shower together and it’ll be faster.”

Rafe practically scrambled out of his chair to go shower, pointing accusingly at her. “Stop that.”

“Stop what.”

“You know - that.” He gestured wildly at the way she’d leaned forward, undone a button and bit her bottom lip. “You’re teasing. Just wait until we’re back in Ohio, please.”

She just smirked and leaned forward to kick his ass lightly. “Go.”

____

When she came back down after her slightly-too-long shower with damp hair, she stopped in her tracks at the base of the stairs. Rafe had one of the babies napping in the play crib and the other asleep on his chest, tiny fingers curled around his pinky as he carefully rubbed her back. Sophie took a quick photo before he could notice and approached quietly, combing her fingers through his hair affectionately.

He lifted his head to smile at her, whispering. “She fell asleep like this, isn’t she sweet? I think this one is baby Ava.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “That’s Amelia. Ava’s in the crib, she has more hair.”

“Oh. Look at her tiny fingers, Sophie.” He murmured, so proud that he was able to get them to stay asleep. When Angie had arrived, she’d brought in both car seats and set up the crib, then handed off both still-sleeping babies to him with only a short introduction. She’d nestled Amelia on his chest, telling him she slept better that way, and thanked him profusely before leaving with Sophie’s mom.

“Babies are so weird.” Sophie replied, a little too loud. “At least they’re starting to get cute.”

He shushed her immediately with a glare. “They’re not weird.”

“How are you so good at this?” She cocked her head, considering picking up Ava from the crib but not trusting her skills.

“Dunno. I like kids.” He traced small circles on Amelia’s back, quietly shushing her when she cooed a little. After a few moments, he glanced up at Sophie with a smile. “How many do you want?”

“I’m not giving you a baby any time soon.” She told him pointedly, leaning into him a little. “But I guess if you really want, I could start calling you daddy…”

He shuddered, his whole face scrunching up into a scowl. “I hope that’s not a kink of yours because I’m really not sure I could entertain it.”

She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m just kidding. Um, I don’t know that I’ve thought about it. I’ve only ever thought as far as my job.”

“Wait, really? Never?”

She shrugged. “Nah. I liked having Carter growing up though. You’ve thought about it?”

He nodded confidently. “Yeah. Two or three’s perfect, I think. Not too much of an age gap in between. A good mix of girls and boys. I want to...yeah.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, turning to face him. “You want what?”

“I want to be a good dad. To do it right.” He told her, a little shy. “I’m not sure I could, but -”

“You will.” She interrupted him, firmly. “I know you will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, baby. You’re going to love our kids so well -”

“Our kids?” He interjected with a small grin, making her blush as a matching blush crept up on his cheeks.

“Sorry, did you plan on having kids with someone else?” She raised her eyebrows.

“No. ‘Course not. Just didn’t know you planned on having them with me.” His grin grew to split across his cheeks, beaming.

She shook her head, feeling herself grow bright red. “Well, yeah. Later, but yeah. You’re it for me, Rafe.” She told him, her voice going a little soft.

He nodded, reaching out to grab her hand and kiss the back of it, the most movement he could make without disturbing the baby. “Good. My favorite.”

“My favorite.” She echoed softly, leaning back into him. As the garage door opened and both babies startled, Ava starting to wail, she scowled and stood to pick her up, holding her out at arm’s length as she began to scream. Amelia began to wake but stayed quiet, her little fist tightening around Rafe’s finger.

“Actually hold her, Soph.” He told her with a skeptical glance at the way she was clearly uncomfortable around the baby. She moved her grip to be able to rock the baby but Ava kept screaming, sensing Sophie’s lack of experience.

Just as Sophie was about to place her hand over Ava’s mouth, Angie came in with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, baby, it’s okay, did the garage wake you?” She cooed, immediately soothing her daughter.

Sophie’s mom followed, smiling at the sight of Rafe completely comfortable with Amelia quietly on his chest still. “Look at that, you’ve got the natural instinct.”

“Oh my god, can I take you home with me? Sophie, I’m stealing your boyfriend.” Angie joked, winking at Rafe.

He laughed, getting up carefully so he didn’t shift Amelia too much and carefully placed her back into the crib. “I wouldn’t mind a little babysitting, but I’ve got to go back to Ohio for our senior year at the end of the weekend.”

“Right, of course.” Angie nodded, giving him a grateful smile.

Sophie rolled her eyes at Rafe behind Angie’s back. “Thanks for letting us watch them for a bit, Ang, they’re adorable, but we kind of have plans…”

“But you'll be back after dinner?” Her mom asked. Sophie resisted a scowl while Rafe just gave her an eager smile. “We’ll be back for dinner, no worries.”

“Okay, see you later!” Sophie practically dragged him upstairs, pulling him into her room and shutting the door before he could protest. He immediately reached for the doorknob, but she grabbed his hand and leaned up to kiss him, hard.

Rafe kissed her back for a few moments before he was reminded where he was and pulled back quickly. “Soph, we can’t.”

“I just want to kiss you.” She argued with a pleading tone, pouting a little.

“I thought we were leaving? Going to the beach?” He dodged another attempted kiss from her, easily slipping out from where she had him pinned against the door and stepped away from her.

“Right. I have to change.” She pulled off her shirt and bralette in one fell swoop, then kicked off her shorts too before he could blink.

He gaped for a moment when he realized she was completely naked, his voice lowering a little. “Baby.”

“Yeah?” She strolled over to her dresser, pretending to rifle through her drawer of old swimsuits, and settled on a hot pink string bikini. She’d bought it in high school and kept it in her car to change into for pool parties, because if her mom ever caught her in it she was sure she’d be transferred to a Catholic boarding school immediately. She knew for a fact Rafe had seen it before, even complimented her in it back in high school, and was hoping he’d recognize it.

He did.

Right away.

“Soph, not - not that one.” He implored, voice cracking. He could feel his throat going dry as he fought every urge in his body telling him to go over to her and have his way with her right that instant, trying to remind himself that her parents were literally right downstairs.

She held back a grin as she shimmied into the bikini, tying it up behind her neck. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“I’m getting you back for this. All this teasing today. I swear. I - I -” He couldn’t even come up with a decent half-hearted threat as she strode closer, letting her hair down from her claw clip, and a big whiff of her shampoo overloaded his senses.

“You’ll what.”

“You’re going to regret this.” He told her, and she swore she could hear the way his voice was shaking.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me? Tie me up?” She teased, and the hint of a laugh in her voice was enough to break his spell.

“Sophie, please. No more. I’ll do whatever you want the second we’re back in Ohio, but I am really trying to make a good impression on your family.” He pleaded, eyes trained intensely on hers - though she was pretty sure it was just so he wouldn’t be able to look down at her tits.

“Okay, okay.” She grabbed her shirt from the bed and pulled it on over the swimsuit, her shorts following. “You don’t have to try so hard though, you know?”

“I know, I just. I want to do this right.” He relaxed a little once she got dressed, but was still mainly tense. “Can I, uh, use your bathroom?”

Sophie sat back on the bed, sending him a confused glance. “No one uses the one out in the hall by the guest room, just use that.”

“That one doesn’t have a shower.”

“You just showered - oh.” She realized as soon as Rafe’s slightly pained expression set in and she noticed the bulge in his shorts. Sophie grinned, satisfied. “I could take care of that faster, y’know.”

“I think I’d still be hard after.” He confessed with a shake of his head, quickly letting himself into the bathroom and ignoring her giggles as he locked the door.

____

They were only out at the beach for a couple hours before they had to return home, but it was like she could see the tension literally unraveling from Rafe’s body when he wasn’t under the pressure of impressing her parents. They laid out their towels with a little overlap and she had her head on Rafe’s arm as they sprawled out on the beach, uninterrupted. When his phone chimed, he nudged her a little. “Can you grab that?”

Sophie sat up to get his phone from her bag at their feet. “Your dad texted.”

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know your password.”

“You did the Face ID thing for it in France, remember?” He didn’t move a muscle, halfway to falling asleep out in the sun.

She cocked her head, surprised when the phone unlocked. “I thought you would have taken it off, thought it was just for traveling.”

“Nope. I have nothing to hide.” He nudged his sunglasses down and squinted up at her. “What does it say?”

“Oh, right.” She opened his text, frowning a little. “Um, he said he saw you leaving the country club the other day and wants you over for lunch tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” He muttered, sitting up with a sigh and took the phone from her to read over the text to see if there were any undertones of him being in trouble. “Okay. You’ll come, right?”

“What - me? I don’t know if that’s really necessary -”

“I’ve been with your family all weekend.”

She frowned more, tucking her knees up to her chest. “I thought you wanted to stay with my family.”

“I do, I do!” He backtracked quickly, reaching out and skimming his hand over her arm. “But I want you to come with me.”

“Rafe…” She started, hesitant, but gave in once she saw his pleading look. “Alright. I’ll go, but I doubt he’ll want me there.”

“He’ll be fine.” Rafe shot off a quick reply to his dad, satisfied when Ward liked the message in response. “It’ll be fine. It’s just lunch.”

“Mmhmm.” She didn’t bring up how he sounded like he was reassuring himself more than anything. She stood, offering her hand. “Come on, swim with me.”

He kissed the back of it before taking it and hauling himself up. “I love you. You know that?”

“I know, baby. I always know.”

_____

Later that night, Sophie sat across from her dad as they got dinner ready. She’d informed him she and Rafe were going to Ward’s house tomorrow for lunch and her dad had merely replied with a noncommittal hum, asked her how she felt, and nodded again when she replied with a wary shrug.

“I never liked the idea of you dating.” Jeff told her as he sliced up watermelon for their dinner that night. Rafe paused around the corner, sent to the garage to grab charcoal for the grill, not wanting to interrupt.

“Dad.” She whined a little, embarrassed, but didn’t move from her spot across the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t, you’re my little girl. But I like Rafe, a lot. He’s a good kid, Sophie, keep him around.”

“I’m planning on it.” She murmured.

“You love him?” Jeff inquired, pausing his cutting of the watermelon for a moment. She merely nodded to respond with a blush and a smile and Rafe nearly walked out then just so he could see the look on her face, desperately craving the confirmation.

“He makes me...I just…” Sophie tripped over her words a little, tugging at the loose threads on her jean shorts. “I feel safe with him. With Luke, or Peter, you know, I -”

“I try not to remember them.” Her dad quipped with a smile, making her roll her eyes. “Go on.”

“Just, with them I didn’t really see much past what we had. But with Rafe, it’s different. Like, I know he’ll stick by my side. For...a while.” She decided, giving her dad a shy but eager smile.

“Well, when that time comes, I’ll be happy to have him in the family.” Jeff told her decisively.

“Me too.” She murmured, then hopped up from her chair. “I’m gonna go find him, he’s probably still rooting around the garage for the charcoal.”

Rafe carefully stepped back a few steps, just enough to quickly shut the door to the garage loudly and stroll in with a sense of purpose like he hadn’t just overheard the whole conversation. “Found it! Sorry, took me a second.”

“I thought you got lost.” She beamed at him, seeming to regard him in a different light for a moment.

He stood taller under her adoring gaze, smiling back. “Nope. Where do you want this, Mr. Flint?”

“Backyard’s fine. Know how to work the grill, Rafe?” Jeff set down the knife and pushed the watermelon toward Sophie so she could take over.

“Uh, not sure, I’ve only ever used electric.”

“C’mon then, let me show you how it’s done.” He clapped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder as he passed to lead the way out to the backyard.

____

Sophie was hardly able to sleep all night, so she crept into Rafe’s room around 1am, careful to only open the door just enough so it wouldn’t creak. “Rafe?”

He was awake too, just barely, and rolled over to greet her, whispering. “Hey. Why are you still up?”

“Can’t sleep.” She mumbled and crawled into his bed without invitation, laying on top of him and placed her head over his heart. He hesitated for a moment but eventually wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Me either.”

“Are you nervous?” She asked.

“For lunch? A little, yeah. But I don’t sleep well without you anyways.” He confessed, playing with the ends of her hair.

“That’s no good.” She traced little patterns on his chest. “Your dad hates me. Right?”

“I don’t think so.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, not bothering to add that he wasn’t sure she was even enough on his radar for Ward to consider hating her. “You need to sleep, sweet girl.”

“So do you.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

She raised her arm with her watch aimlessly. “I set an alarm for six. I’ll go back to my room then.”

“Okay. Sweet dreams, angel.” He kept playing with her hair until he heard her breathing slow and deepen, and only let himself fall asleep an hour after, once he was sure they wouldn’t be caught.

_______

Later that day, after anxiously pacing the house all morning, Sophie was squeezing the life out of his hand as they walked up to his front door. He pressed a kiss to her temple before letting them in. “Soph. It’s okay.”

“Your dad hates me.” She told him with a straight face.

“He - I don’t think that’s true.” He faltered, punching in the code to the front door and toed it open when it unlocked. “This isn’t fun for me either, can you please help me out and not break my hand?”

“Right! Right, sorry.” She let go of him right away, letting him shake out his hand. “Here, let me -” She reached up to fix his hair and he jerked away, startled.

“He says it looks better gelled, don’t -”

“I’m not, I’m just fixing -” She carefully pushed a stray strand back into place and he gave her a grateful smile when he felt it. “Okay. We’re okay?”

“We’re good. Go ahead.” She nodded and followed him in, taking his hand when he reached out for hers.

Ward spotted them first, coming in from the kitchen with two wine glasses in his hands. “Rafe! Do you want wine? Um...Savannah…?”

Rafe’s face fell and his shoulders dropped as he clutched her hand a little tighter. “Her name is Sophie, Dad. I’ve only told you that at least ten times.”

“It’s okay.” She excused quickly with an overly polite smile. “We’ve only met once, at your Christmas party.”

“Right, right, I remember.” Ward nodded and set the glasses down at the table. “I’ll get you both a glass, hold on. Rose!” He called out, going back into the kitchen.

Rafe gave her an apologetic glance and she shook her head quickly. “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

“Yes, well, it’s fine. Are Sarah and Wheezie here?”

“I already asked, Sarah’s back at school and Wheezie got out of this to hang out with some friends.” He had texted them the night before for support, but had no luck.

“Okay.” She reached up and stroked her thumb over his cheek, whispering. “Relax your shoulders for me, baby.”

“Right.” He nodded, but stayed tense. Rose returned with Ward a few moments later, with the whole bottle in hand and two empty glasses. “Rafe, you’re here. Sophie, hello, are you still jetlagged from your trip?”

“Um, no.” Sophie replied curtly. “We’ve been back for a few days now.”

“Oh, you just looked a little tired. Maybe it’s the lighting.” Rose gave her a sweet smile and gestured around, although the entire dining room was filled with natural light.

“Maybe.” Sophie forced herself to agree, sitting after Rafe pulled out her chair for her. All their plates were already set out with individual portions, and she noticed there was more salad on her plate than anyone else’s, but didn’t dare say a thing.

“Tell me about your internship, Rafe. You didn’t leave early for the trip, did you?” Ward asked, starting to eat and Sophie took that as an invitation to start as well. When she reached for the wrong fork, Rafe tried to subtly reach out and push the other one toward her.

“No, I finished it then went out to Spain. The internship was good, I learned a lot. I have a job offer from them.”

“You’re not accepting, of course.” Rose replied, then raised her eyebrows at his pause to answer. “Right? Aren’t you coming home after graduation to work with your father?”

“I have a couple options.” Rafe replied vaguely, taking a larger sip of wine than what was considered polite.

To his surprise, Ward nodded in agreement. “You can explore a few things before you come home, it’ll give you more experience for joining the board. A year or so after graduation, that’s fine.”

“You’ll let him swan around instead of doing his job?”

“A couple years won’t hurt anything. He’s in supply chain, Rose, it’s relevant work.”

Rafe had a small smile as he picked at his food with the fork, then lifted his head. “What if I didn’t get a job in supply chain? To start?”

Ward fixed him with a stern gaze. “If this is about your minor, I don’t want to hear it.”

His smile dropped as quickly as he’d found it. “No, yeah, supply chain is smart.”

Rose glanced between the two of them, then cocked her head at Sophie. “What are you studying?”

“I’m in architecture.” Sophie replied, tensing a little.

“Oh. That’s cute. I’ve been looking to hire someone to help decorate our parlor, actually -”

“It’s, um, designing buildings, not interior decorating. It requires a master’s.” Sophie cut her off, with a little more edge to her voice than necessary.

Rose nodded. “Right. What’s the starting salary, around 30k? It’s a good thing you’re with Rafe, you won’t have to sacrifice for a tiny apartment once you graduate.”

Sophie flinched, stabbing her fork into the salad harder than necessary. “It depends on the firm.”

Rafe stayed silent, staring at his wine glass. They all sat there quietly as the clinks of their forks and their glasses echoed in the room for a few moments as they all ate, or pushed around the food on their plates.

“Rafe.”

His head snapped up at Ward. “Yes sir.”

“Are you still wanting the plane and the house for your fall break?”

Sophie didn’t dare look up to show the surprise flash across her face.

“Yes, sir, if that’s alright. It’s just a small group.” Rafe replied, nodding quickly. “I’ll do that remote work like you asked, call into the meetings if you need me to.”

“That’ll work.” Ward nodded. “You haven’t taken Sophie down there, just Brooklyn, right?”

“Mm. Yeah. That was a while ago.” Rafe sighed. “I haven’t dated her in over a year.”

“You’ll love it, Sophie,” Rose smiled at her. “It’s the best, so luxurious. You’re probably not used to it so it’ll be a treat.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “Right.”

Rafe glanced down at his watch as he briefly squeezed her knee under the table. “Thank you for having us over for lunch, Dad, Rose, but we have to catch our flight tonight and haven’t packed up yet. Sophie’s dad is driving us to the airport.”

“Alright.” Ward rose from his chair at the same time as his son, nodding. “Call me, okay? Check in once in a while?”

“Yeah, Dad, of course.” Rafe relaxed into the hug with his dad, pulling away with a broad smile. “Maybe you could come up for parent’s weekend this year.”

“I’ll check the calendar. Sophie, it was nice to see you again.” Ward walked them both out and she was unbelievably stiff as she shook his hand, her jaw set. When they walked out hand in hand again to her dad’s car, parked at the very end of the drive, she stayed quiet.

Rafe slid into the car with her and gave her a grin, like the weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “That wasn’t bad, right? I expected much worse!”

“Yeah.” She nodded weakly, staring ahead at his house out the window. “Can we go?”

He started the car with a frown, reaching out to place his hand on her thigh but she shifted away. “Sophie. What’s up?”

“Let’s just get home.” She offered a fake smile that he saw through right away, but he didn’t press it.

The rest of the drive was quiet as Rafe turned the radio up and tried to ignore her leg jittering anxiously and how she kept switching her ring from finger to finger, a constant nervous habit of hers. When he pulled into the driveway at her house, he reached out again and stilled her leg. “Sophie.”

“You didn’t say a thing.” She murmured to herself, not looking at him.

“What do you mean?” He frowned and reached out to take her hand.

Sophie pulled back a little, but turned to look at him. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m glad it went well with your dad.”

“But…”

She leaned forward and gave him a short kiss and a smile to match, shaking her head. “You said it yourself, we have to go pack. Come on.” She got out of the car and didn’t give him a second glance backward as she strode into the house.

Rafe sat there and watched, dumbfounded and unsure of what he’d done.

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️

Here you go!

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.

Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.

He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.

“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”

“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”

A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”

Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”

That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”

The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.

Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.

He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.

“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”

“Yes, Seer Cold.”

“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.

Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.

“This is amazing.”

“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”

“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”

“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.

Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.

-----------------------------------------------------

For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.

On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.

“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”

“Uh….”

“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”

“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”

“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”

“I gotta wear anything special?”

“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”

The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.

“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”

“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”

Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”

The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”

Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.

Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.

He’s really quite stunning.

“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”

“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”

“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”

Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”

“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”

“Why did you feel differently?”

He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”

“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”

-----------------------------------------------

“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”

“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”

“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”

“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”

“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”

Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

----------------------------------------------

“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.

“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.

“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.

“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”

“You know it.”

Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.

“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”

-----------------------------------------------

They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.

He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.

Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.

“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.

“Kinda.”

“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”

“Wh-”

Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”

“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”

“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”

“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”

“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”

“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.

The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.

When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.

Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.

“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”

“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”

Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”

“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”

“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”

[mannien]

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k 

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.  

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”          

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

           Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

           She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

           (Tom) I got you something today

           After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood.  She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

           (Me) You were in Disneyland????

           (Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today 

           (Me) I’m so jealous rn

           (Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!  

           (Tom) it’s alright

           (Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

           (Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

           (Me) I bet you loved this feeling

           (Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

           (Tom) Don’t tell anyone

           (Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

           (Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

           Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

           Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

           The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

           “I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

           “That’s exciting, right?”

           “Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

           “That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

           “I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

           “No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

           “Yeah? How was work?”

           “Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

           “Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

           Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

           “Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

           “You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

           “Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

           “I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

           “Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

           “You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

           “I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

           “Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

           “Oh, for sure.”

           “Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

           “I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

           “You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

                                                          *  *  *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

           “How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

           “Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

           “It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

           “Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

           It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.  

****

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear@sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection@cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0 @spideyspeaches

If it bothers you that you’re tagged, please let me know!

[sapphic-luthor]

12,13,26 for Kara and Lena

12. Who initiates kisses?

(ok so i uhhh took some liberties with this prompt and also this is a lil bit nsfw)

Their unplanned falling-together was only supposed to happen once, honestly. It had started with an opulent party to celebrate CatCo’s 5 year anniversary and somehow ended with them upstairs in the now-empty office space, Lena pressed to the glass of her office with her dress hiked up around her waist and Kara’s mouth between her legs, and it was just this once, they swore, after Lena comes down the second time, because we just got caught up in the party, and it was just-- one of those things, you know-- and no reason to bring it up again, and we can pretend this never happened, no problem, of course.

And that lasts about ten hours, because Lena wakes up the next morning and finds hickeys on the insides of her thighs while she’s showering, and the memory of Kara’s lips and Kara’s tongue and Kara’s fingers takes the breath straight from her lungs. She considers using the moment to get herself off but then she blinks and suddenly she’s at Kara’s apartment door with her hair still wet and her tank top sticking to her skin, and Kara pins her against it like the words they agreed upon last night were never spoken at all. They don’t make it to a bed that time, either. It starts against the inside of Kara’s door, stumbles through the kitchen a bit where Kara’s fingertips inadvertently leave imprints in her countertop when she clutches at it, and ends half-on half-off the couch with Kara breathing hard and Lena disappearing out the door before her hair even has a chance to dry. And it’s not until she gets home and steps back into her shower, purposely not looking at the new bruises that are sure to arise tomorrow on her thighs, that she realizes they... haven’t kissed. It had been whirlwind and hot and frantic and there were tiny bite marks on her collarbone and Lena had sucked rough kisses into several parts of Kara’s skin over the past 12 hours, but they had yet to kiss. Lena cycles through the memories, finds only ones of her biting her lip in an attempt to keep quiet or with her face buried into Kara’s neck, and Kara’s mouth was usually... elsewhere. So she showers and thinks about if that maybe means something, if it’s better or worse to fuck your best friend than to kiss her, if maybe she should be actively trying to not kiss her the next time-- and then there it is. There shouldn’t be a next time, they had decided that there wouldn’t be a next time--

(The next time is two days later.)

They do a very good job of pretending everything is fine, and Kara shows up for lunch like things are normal and they chat and it’s normal and it’s fine and it’s not weird and this is what they were both hoping for that first night when they had agreed never again. So Lena begins to believe that the second time was just a fluke, or maybe the first time was just especially long and that time in Kara’s apartment was still part of it, it was just a... part two, to the first time? Or a follow-up that doesn’t really count? But these mental gymnastics are exhausting and Lena’s already spent most of the day trying not to think about not-kissing Kara and she’s a little bit distracted, maybe, and she’s accidentally staring while Kara talks with her hands, and then one thing leads very quickly to another and all of the sudden Lena’s skirt is bunched up again and Kara’s on her knees dragging her underwear to the side and minutes later when she pulls hard at Kara’s hair, too sensitive to keep going, Lena says How does this keep happening at the same time that Kara says God I love doing that and then that poses a problem. Lena’s cheeks are lighting up hot because she loves when Kara does it, too, but there’s probably some unpacking to do of why she loves it so quite so much, and then Kara says You’re right, and um and I should probably get going! and she leaves too-fast and with a friendly wave like the taste of Lena isn’t still shining on her lips as she goes.

They don’t talk for three days, and then Supergirl lands on Lena’s balcony and strides right into her apartment like she owns the place, and Lena spends all of three seconds deciding whether or not it’s a good idea to do this again. (It’s not, but she’s going to do it anyway.) But then the hero approaches her slow and gentle and it’s Kara in moments like this, not really Supergirl at all, and it feels different. So Kara says something to the effect of I know we’re not supposed to do this anymore and Lena, heart banging against her chest, nods her head and tries to agree in a way that sounds believable. But Kara’s still advancing on her, looking like she’s got no intentions of “not doing this anymore,” and then her hand cups Lena’s face carefully and she says but I don’t want to end this without knowing what it’s like to kiss you and Lena says then don’t and when they kiss it’s like finally filling in the center pieces of a puzzle they’d been haphazardly building from the outside in, and the whole picture of it is suddenly so, so, clear to Lena. Kara pulls away, and it looks like she’s going to leave and they might honestly never talk about this ever again, and Lena’s heart is doing flip after flip after flip so she blurts Wait, and is there really a reason why we shouldn’t be doing this? And Lena meant it rhetorically, mostly, but Kara pauses long enough that it looks like she’s genuinely running through every possible reason in her mind and alights on nothing of consequence. She looks surprised, a bit, but above all else she looks excited, and her awestruck whisper of None that I can think of ends up half-swallowed in their next kiss. Lena smiles and Kara’s suit starts dematerializing, and they do make it to a bed, that time, and (most of) the ones after.

13. Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

Lena values touch, even if she doesn’t know it. Kara picks up on it instantly, sees the way Lena’s hands sometimes gravitate toward her own when they’re talking through difficult things together, or how Lena’s body angles toward hers like she’s ready for a hug, but she always, always, always catches herself at the last moment. And maybe it’s because Kara can move at superspeed and sometimes she takes in other people’s movements like they’re a bit in slow motion, or maybe it’s because Kara’s spent so much time with Lena in the time since they’ve met that she’s become very specifically attuned to the way Lena moves, but either way-- it’s heartbreaking.

Lena’s all business, she’s professional and quiet and sometimes even cold, but for Kara-- she’s different. There are cracks across Lena’s facade, like when light shines through a broken thing and you can see just where it’s been shattered, and Kara catches at those lines with her fingertips and pulls the pieces apart and demands to be let in, and Lena barely puts up a fight before she lets her. And they spend lunches together, they go to bakeries on weekends, Lena even comes to a game night, once, and gets a little bit drunk, and Kara’s heart grows and grows and grows every time she sees the brunette because in exchange for the dismantling of Lena’s painful suit of armor, they’re building something beautiful together but still--- they still don’t touch, not really. Not past quick hello hugs that don’t feel like they mean much else, not past a gentle hand on Lena’s shoulder or a goofy high-five when they beat Alex’s trivia team the fourth time in a row.

And that’s why it makes all the difference when they finally do. When Lena agrees to come over for a movie night, when they sit comfortably near each other but not that near on the couch, when Kara sees Lena wringing her hands out of the corner of her eye, looking like she’s trying to physically restrain herself from reaching out. When she asks what’s wrong and Lena assures her that it’s nothing, it’s nothing, I just-- I heard from Lillian today and it’s put me in a weird mood, and then a sniffle escapes her so Kara just... reaches out. She told herself that she was going to let Lena do it, that Lena needed to be the one to finally decide that she wanted this sort of comfort, but watching the brunette actively fight against her own instincts to her own detriment is too much for Kara so she reaches out and intertwines their fingers and squeezes firmly and the last bit of glass around Lena’s heart completely shatters. She squeezes back, lets out a quiet little whimper, and then turns to bury her face fully into Kara’s shoulder and sobs. So it may have been Kara, that first time, the one to bridge the gap and pull Lena’s hand into her own, but after that, it’s Lena. She can tangle their fingers together when she’s happy or run her thumb over the backs of Kara’s knuckles when she’s nervous and she does, because finally finally finally Lena knows that it’s okay and it’s safe, and that Kara’s touch is somewhere she can find home.

26. What would be their theme song?

see: my supercorp playlist 

[boredfanwrites]

Love, Simon Harringrove AU

I'm sorry (not really) this is probably a bit long but I've already started writing this fic and these are just outline bullet points.

Anyway, what I mean is after a short reprieve following the submission of my assignment: I'm back and please take this poor persons Harringrove AU.

First - Billy isn't as big of an asshole (my AU so I say so).

Second - modern day, pretty much exactly the same setting as Love, Simon.

Third - Neither of them have their cars, this is important later.

Fourth - I have complete control over characters so if I say Barb lives, Barb lives.

Moving on.

Steve is Simon, Billy is Brahm but also not really.

Steve is the one to kick things off, he places an ad in their school paper, not blog because he knows fewer people read the papers and the kind of people Steve wants to meet are the kind that pick up the papers.

He intends to communicate through the ads but the editor adds the email address he'd created to send in the submission.

Hi, lets get things straight: I'm not. I'm gay. I'm not expecting advice or a congrats or whatever. Hell you don't even need to publish it. I just, I needed to get it off my chest somewhere. I've spent my whole life either not knowing, or hiding when I realised. I don't know why I'm even doing this. I don't wanna be alone anymore, I think that's it. I can't be alone. I'm gay, that's normal, I'm fine the way I am. I'm sick of hiding, but I don't think I'm ready to truly come out.

In comes Billy, reading Steve's little piece, obviously not knowing its Steve. And against his better judgement Billy finds himself writing a reply.

I'm like you. Gay that is. I've known since I was thirteen and I kissed a boy in the bathroom of a dingy movie theatre. I've been hiding ever since. I've always been scared of what it meant. But maybe I'm not so alone. If you want a friend in this, I can be one.

It's the first time Billy's admitted it out loud, even if it is only on an electronic document. It's his first admission that he's not the son his father wants him to be so desperately.

Max is still his step-sister, but he gets along with her far better in the AU. She's still a little shit of a sister but she knows when to back off and Billy knows to not take his anger out on her. It's not her fault.

They don't have a good sibling relationship in the slightest but they're doing ok.

Steve still drives around the nerd herd. Still babysits Dustin - though it's less babysitting more making sure he doesn't accidentally kill himself.

Steve reads through the reply, the only reply he'd gotten and he's thankful. He wanted a friend so badly. He had Robin, of course, they were both gay but it was kinda difficult to give each other advice, dating or general LGBTQ+, when they didn't like the same gender. Steve could give a few tips but his track record left nothing to be desired. And Robin barely interacted with boys.

Steve has Jonathon and Nancy, but they don't know so it's not the same. Not really. Besides they're usually too coupley to give a shit about his poor sad single life half the time.

Billy and Steve are hesitant friends, they're both friends with Jonathon so are civil to each other, they're around each other a lot but they're not friends.

So Steve writes something back, and so does Billy. They ask the stereotypical icebreaker questions: favourite foods, colours, places etc. But they both want to dig a little deeper.

After a few emails, Steve suggests fake names to sign off with, a way to get closer.

Billy agrees but only if they can be named after their absolute dream cars - Billy is stuck driving Neil's beaten down pile of crap and needs to remind himself what he's working towards.

So they become Beemer and Camaro and boy does Billy have a field day with Beemer.

Regardless, having names to address each other by leads them to open up more. The person on the other side of the screen becoming more real.

Steve talks about how he's not doing so good academically but he wants to be, he's trying but it's never enough. How nothing is ever good enough for his parents but they're never around to see him either.

He mentions that there's this kid he looks after and how he's basically the little brother he never had and how much his mom wants to adopt him. Steve admits if it wasn't for appearances he's sure his parents would jump at the chance.

Billy admits that as much as he can get along with his stepsister she can be such a little shit. He's supposed to look after her but 'she's 13 for god's sake, she has her own mobile phone, and I can't do anything' and how his dad will beat on him if she's not home by a certain time.

It frustrates Billy to no end because even she's home by curfew she'll offhandedly mention something else that Billy did that his dad didn't like him doing. His dad finds a lot of reasons to punch Billy black and blue.

Steve finally gets given his own walkie and he feels honoured. He uses it to communicate with everyone, but Dustin informed him there's a special channel just for Steve that is one on one if the others ever need him and only him. Steve teared up a little bit.

Billy's been happier than ever talking to Beemer and Neil notices, starts finding even smaller reasons: not placing his plate in the dishwasher, not picking up after Max, not helping Susan unpack the groceries (he wasn't even home, how was he supposed to know?).

Max isn't an idiot. And one night she hears a resounding thud and Neil storming off and the shattering of glass. An engine rumbles and roars down the street. Max races into Billy's room, only to find the boy unconscious on the floor. She screams for her mom but Susan pretends not to hear, so she does the only other thing she can think of.

Steve has been having worse bouts of insomnia so he's awake, trying to be productive when his walkie goes off. Imagine his shock and horror when Max’s voice heaves out between sobs that Billy isn’t waking up. So of course he grabs his keys and goes running.

Billy wakes up to Max’s heavy breathing and an unfamiliar pressure just below his left eye. He struggles to open them but then hears a familiar voice telling him to ‘relax, don’t force it. You’re gonna have a great shiner in the morning but other than that you’ll be ok.’ And Billy knows that voice, that’s Harrington. Why is Harrington in his house?

An hour later, both eyes open and a few scratches patched up, Billy and Steve sit on the end of his bed, Max on the floor in front of them. None of them say anything, but Steve holds out a pinky to Billy and Billy takes it.

A few days after Steve takes a moment to think. Camaro said his dad beats on him. Unless Billy got in a fight earlier and it was a delayed reaction it could only be his dad.

So Steve tests the waters, admittedly his most stupid mistake.

I was trying to be productive a few nights ago. You know how my insomnia is getting. Anyway one of the friends of the kid I babysit called me and said her brother wasn’t waking up. I go over there, patch him up and then we don’t really say anything else. I’m glad my first aid training came in to play, lord knows I’ve patched the kids up too many times. But it was the weirdest experience of my life, honestly.

Camaro drops off the face of the earth. So does Billy. The only reason Steve knows he’s alive is because both Jonathon and Tommy text him updates from time to time. Tommy doesn’t go into detail, doesn’t really give a shit, just a thumbs up whenever he sees Billy.

But Jonathon. Steve is very thankful for Jonathon’s friendship. He tells Steve whenever there’s a new mark on him, how Hopper picked him up and Joyce had bailed him out. How Will was getting along with Billy so well since he’d camped out on their couch a few weeks ago.

It’s been so long. Months. And Steve is so lonely. Even before Camaro, he didn’t realise how much he and Billy actually interacted, how much time they’d spent together. It was back to just Steve and Robin. Which wasn’t bad, but wasn’t the same. Steve had given up hope.

Look. I know we know who each other is now. I know that’s not good English, I’ve had a couple beers so forgive me, King Steve. I like talking to you, I really do. But I meant it when I said I was scared. I can’t do this. Just give me a week or two, I’ll be back in school and we can go back to how it was. I’m sorry.

Steve doesn’t think it can go back to how it was.

Billy doesn’t want to go back to how it was. He doesn’t want to lose Steve now that he has him. But his body felt like it was falling apart most days. The only reprieve was the few nights every couple weeks he spent on the Byers’ couch. Even if he did get a worse beating after.

Steve tries to make life easier on Billy in the ways that he can. Brings Max back at least fifteen minutes before curfew, he offers to help Susan here and there when he sees her, offers to babysit Max if he’s looking after the rest of the nerd herd.

Neil likes him, Steve hates Neil. But he never sees Billy.

It comes to a head one day. Steve has to pick up Dustin when he hears arguing. Heading out to the back he sees Max stomping about, yelling at Billy and god, Billy just looks tired. So Steve heads over, places himself between the two and tells Max to wait with Dustin in the car.

He turns to Billy, sees his glassy eyes, and sees how much weight Billy has lost. And did all of this stem from him and Billy not talking or was there more.

Billy takes one look at Steve and breaks. He babbles nonsense about how he would never hurt Max, would never lay a finger on her. Steve shushes him, carefully placing his hands on Billy’s shoulders. Billy doesn’t notice.

Steve wonders where it came from, what was going through Billy’s head. He pulled him closer until Billy’s hands fisted in his shirt, a patch on Steve’s chest dampening.

I really fucking like you. You’re so good. And I’m scared, I’m so scared.

Billy. I really fucking like you too. It’s ok that you’re scared. I get it. I just want us to try. It doesn’t have to be now. It’s only ever gonna be when you’re ready but I’m going to be here.

Billy has only ever wanted someone who tried. Someone who was going to stick around for him. There Steve was, making promises. Being way too good for Billy.

Steve doesn’t let him go.

There’s gonna be a few scenes in the fic that weren’t mentioned, mostly because I will be writing this fic at some point and I want a few mysteries and extra stuff. Likewise for the emails, they’re all gonna be included.

Also, currently I’m not sure I like the ending, I was planning on doing a few fluffy, epilogue one-shots once the fic is done but I don’t know whether to keep the ending I’ve got or whether to stick more closely to the Love, Simon (Steve trying to do something big and public etc.). But for now, take what I have and be on the lookout for either the first instalment or just one long-ass fic in the near future.

[lovelylunarwriting]

Haechan Soulmate!AU

The first words your soulmate says to you are the words tattooed on your wrist.

Ever since you transferred from your old high school to this new one, all you've tried to do is not draw too much attention to yourself. 

The first couple days after you transferred in the middle of the year, you made a few friends and called it quits as far as climbing any social ladders goes. It's just not something that interested you. 

There is, however, someone who is interested in you. And his name is Jaemin. 

By some stroke of luck (to him), Jaemin managed to have almost every class with you. The only class he doesn’t have with you is fourth period history, the final class period of the day. 

You don't really know Jaemin, but it seems that trouble follows him everywhere. 

Trouble being his entourage of friends who are probably some of the most chaotic people you've ever encountered. 

Your last school was a lot more boring than this, so at least these boys keep you entertained. And generally speaking they keep the entire class entertained. 

They're all just so loud and not very low-key about their antics. 

Which is funny most of the time but can get annoying if done too often. 

Back to Jaemin though.

Jaemin has been obsessed with you ever since you transferred but is too nervous to talk to you- let alone ask you out. 

Some of his friends however, are astonishingly bold. One of these friends being Haechan.

And Haechan (along with most of Jaemin’s friends) is absolutely tired of him moping around all the time wondering if you’re his soulmate or not.

Renjun: “Dude just talk to them. Then you’ll know”

Jaemin: “Respectfully- no thanks”

Jisung: “Fine but if you don’t do anything you’re not allowed to whine about it”

Haechan: “I second that”

Jaemin: “Ugh but it’s bothering me! They could be my soulmate and I can’t know unless I talk to them but I can’t taLK to them?? Ya know??”

Renjun: “No we don’t know, just do it. Even if you’re nervous”

Jaemin: “But what if they’re not my soulmate?”

Jisung: “True, what if they’re MY soulmate?”

Chenle: “Oooo plot twist…”

Jaemin: “They’re not your soulmate, Jisung. You don’t suit them at all”

Jisung:”Oh and YOU do?”

Jaemin: “I could!!”

Jeno: “This isn’t helping! If Jaemin wants to talk to them then he will”

Jaemin: “Thank you, Jeno”

Jeno: “...but also could you talk about something (other) than them sometimes? It's getting old”

The next day Jaemin runs into the school building early, and up to the third floor staircase, where the boys usually hang out before the bell rings. 

He goes on this entire rant about how life’s too short and he’s gonna finally talk to you and confess his feelings.

The boys nod along and try to encourage him but… deep down they all know he’s not gonna do it.

Jaemin explains his plan to the eager listeners:

He’s gonna pass you a note during third period, since that’s the last class of the day he has with you.

Because then he doesn’t actually have to talk and risk saying something dumb. His logic is, that if you are his soulmate and he says something stupid, you might be pissed at him because that’s tattooed on you forever.

In his words, “I gotta make it count!”

Everyone agrees that this is an okay plan (Renjun claimed to have a better one but was quickly hushed), and that Jaemin should meet up with them after fourth period (the last class of the day), and tell them how it goes.

Jaemin agrees, the bell rings, and everyone goes their separate ways.

Jaemin spends the next five hours regretting his life decisions and desperately trying to refrain from nervous-puking up his breakfast (and later lunch).

Finally, third period arrives and as Jaemin walks in, you meet his gaze.

You think literally nothing of it, because you are more focused on cramming for the history quiz you’re gonna have to take next class period.

Why must you know every president and their political party? Because fuck you, that’s why.

Or at least that’s the thought that runs through your head almost the entire class because they’re going over Shakespeare and some other boring poetry stuff.

Jaemin though…. Jaemin is s w e a t i n g. Clammy palms, moist back, the whole package.

He asks the teacher if he can go to the bathroom (as an excuse but also because he feels like he might throw up his lunch after all), and slides the note onto your desk while you’re turned talking to your friend about how next period is gonna s u c k.

Jaemin leaves the room, and you lean back against your desk, unknowingly knocking the note onto the floor.

When he comes back inside (after like fifteen minutes of pacing in the bathroom and trying to not be anxious), Jaemin walks back to his seat but slows down when he passes you, giving you a chance to respond.

You though, have no idea of this boy and his well-meant schemes, so you just ask “You good, Jaemin?” as he hovers around your desk.

Jaemin blinks a few times, looks at his wrist, and sadly sighs. 

“Yeah… I’m fine”, he says, and plops down in his seat.

He traces the words “Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?” on his wrist with his finger, feeling stupid that he thought you might say that to him.

The context wasn’t right at all, but wishful thinking got the best of him.

He thought about texting the group chat and letting them know that you weren’t the one, but decided it was too embarrassing of an event to have to write out over text.

You on the other hand, still blissfully unaware of the shenanigans going on around you, head to your last class.

Dreading the quiz to come, you glue your nose to your textbook until the very last second.

The bell rings, the teacher hands out the quiz, and you write down everything you just spent the past hour cramming so you don’t forget it.

You finish early enough, and walk up to the teacher’s desk to turn in your paper.

The whole way there, you feel like someone’s watching you. And when you turn around to make your way back to your seat, you lock eyes with one of Jaemin’s friends, Haechan.

Sitting down, you space out and think about if maybe that Jaemin is the Jaemin your tattoo is referring to.

Your soulmate tattoo mentions the name Jaemin, but you never bothered talking to the boy because it wouldn’t make sense for him to talk about himself in the third person.

Plus, Jaemin is a pretty common name. If you jumped up every time you heard the name, you’d never sit down.

Something snaps you out of your thoughts. It’s that feeling again, like you’re being stared at.

You glance over and see Haechan looking at you again. He mouths something to you, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

The only word you think you see is “soulmate”.

Maybe he saw your wrist and thinks Jaemin is your soulmate?? But you’ve already talked to Jaemin before, just last period. And it wasn’t him.

When the final bell rings, before you can get out of your seat, Haechan glides over to the front of your desk, slamming his palms on top of it.

Haechan: “You know Jaemin has a big ol’ crush on you, right? It’s so obvious”

You: “I guess I do now, since you just told me, but I don’t see it going anywhere if I’m being honest”

Haechan: “Is he not your-”, he starts but stops abruptly.

Haechan stares at you, wide-eyed, and then power walks out of the room.

You sit there with your mouth agape, looking back and forth from your wrist to the door he stormed out of.

“You know Jaemin has a big ol’ crush on you, right?”

It- you didn’t think it would be about this Jaemin. He was always so quiet around you and you literally hadn’t spoken to him until today.

As a kid you used to get your hopes up every time you met someone named Jaemin, thinking someone they knew was your soulmate, but after the fifth or sixth Jaemin it became too exhausting.

You’d honestly low-key forgotten about it by now… because the stress of school kind of gets in the way of life.

BUT NOW WE’VE GOT A LOT TO UNPACK BECAUSE JAEMIN HAS A CRUSH ON YOU BUT HAECHAN IS YOUR SOULMATE.

Loud, boisterous, diva, Haechan.

Speaking of Haechan though, he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do now.

Does he tell Jaemin? Or should he just not say anything?

Luckily, by the time Haechan meets up with the boys outside the school, Jaemin hasn’t shown up yet.

Haechan: “Okay I have bad news and good news and I don’t know which to say first”

Jeno: “Then just say both at once”

Haechan: “Okay well uh Y/N isn’t Jaemin’s soulmate”

Chenle: “Yeah I didn’t think so because of the butter thing, but how do you know?”

Haechan: “Because I talked to them and they’re my soulmate”

Jaemin: “They’re what?”

Jaemin had just gotten close enough to hear the conversation, but he heard every word.

Dead silence fell upon the group, Haechan not daring to make eye contact with Jaemin.

Jaemin: “Honestly Haechan… congrats”

Haechan: “What?”

Jaemin: “They’re not my soulmate and I’ve known that since third period. That’s what I came to tell you guys, but I guess you beat me to it. I’m not mad at you, it’s not like you could help it”

A collective sigh of relief and some quick banter, then the boys head their separate ways home.

Jaemin’s relieved to finally know one way or the other, and Haechan is now the one who gets to be a nervous wreck.

He’s not nearly as bad as Jaemin was though. He’s overthinking for about half an hour, and then just mildly jittery until he sees you tomorrow in fourth period.

Before you can say anything, Haechan repeats his routine of walking right up to you and planting his hands on your desk.

Haechan: “Hi so apparently we’re soulmates but I don’t know you very well but I want to and I don’t know if you’re busy or like boba but on Fridays we go get boba and play board games and it’s Friday so I thought you might-”

You: “I love boba. And board games. What time?”

Haechan: “O- oh. I thought I was going to have to convince you. Right after school we head across the street to that new boba place. It’s usually just me, Jisung, Chenle, and Jeno”

You: “Okay, then I’ll just walk with you after this class, right?”

Haechan: “...right. Shouldn’t you be more careful? I’m inviting you to go hang out with a bunch of guys you don’t know”

You: “You’re my soulmate. And I don’t know you very well, but you seem like a really sweet person”

This sends Haechan into a blushing frenzy, and it's all he can do to not sneak glances at you for the rest of fourth period.

He collects himself a bit, and when the bell rings he escorts you to the courtyard where you see three mildly familiar boys.

You think one of them is in your grade, but the other two look younger.

After Haechan introduces you and each boy briefly introduces themselves, the awkward politeness fades away and what replaces it can only be described as anarchy.

“Did you know Haechan fell asleep during our choir concert while some girl was doing a solo and he snored so loud she shushed him?”

“Yeah and Haechan can be dramatic at times so if he’s being too extra just let us know and we’ll keep him in check”

“Oh remember that time when we were long-boarding and the path flooded but Haechan tried to cross it anyway? Legend says the board is still floating down the creek to this day….”

It became a shit show of “who can embarrass Haechan the most”, but after a lot of complaining from Haechan and threats to do this to them when they found their soulmate, the boys managed to stop themselves.

Everyone orders their boba, and you all play uno, jenga, and other games until it becomes dark out.

Jisung: “Shit guys, it’s getting late. I don’t wanna miss the train”

You: “Yeah and I hate walking alone in the dark. I should probably go soon”

Haechan: “It’s fine, I’ll walk you home”

You: “Really? I was right, you are sweet~”

Chenle: “What but Haechan you usually walk with me! Now I’m gonna have to walk alone!”

Haechan: “Go spend the night at Jeno’s then! Walk home with him!”

Jeno: “Yeah let’s have a sleepover~”

Chenle: “Fine but we’re playing mario kart”

The boys disperse, and you lead Haechan down the street towards your house, chit chatting the whole way.

Even though it’s been a short amount of time, you and Haechan kind of just…  click together.

But that’s the whole point of soulmates, so you’re not that surprised.

He drops you off, but not before you ask for his number.

Haechan: “Wh- why?”

You: “So you can text me when you get home. I want to make sure you get there safe”

Haechan: “o- oh…”

You: “And so I can text you in general, of course”

Haechan seems to lighten up at this.

You head inside and immediately go to sleep, dreaming of the future you would have with that boy from your history class.

Oh and also Haechan failed the history quiz from the day before

34%. Rest in rip.

[angeltrapz]

helo beloved mutual connor, im sorry ur goin thru it rn but i come bearing asks n a heart emoji (💗): bcuz i have had this thought floatin around for a lil bit, wld love 2 hear ur takes on an Adam/Eric/Mallick (+ Art too if u want!) road trip vacation! how long wld they go, do they get motels or camp or just sleep in th car? whats everyone's favorite road trip snack? what sorta shit do they like 2 stop for? (weird tourist traps like giant balls of yarn etc, small town main street stores, cool looking restaurants, nature sites, Actual Destinations, so on n so forth!)

fjkdsd thank u beloved mutual adam,,, <3

ohhh I love tht idea!! road trip fics/hcs are one of my weaknesses,,

but um!! I rly like the idea of th four of them going camping a few hours up north!! (we... don't rly know where. SAW is set so just. imagine a vaguely rural campground lmao. I'm used to camping in th upper peninsula of MI so) it's smth tht Art did a lot w his family when he was growing up, so he's th most familiar w it - Eric went a few times as a kid too, Mallick went Once, n Adam has never rly been camping, w his family or otherwise (he's slept on a trampoline at one of his friends' houses once tho). Art is p excited abt it tbh, it's not exactly smth he gets 2 do often so he's got this whole list planned of things he wants 2 show them!!

it's easiest 2 just take a week in late August, bc they can head back home on a Friday n have the weekend to settle n readjust b4 th coming week + they have to go back 2 work. so they head out around ten on a Monday morning 2 kind of get ahead of th traffic (or at least try to). Art drives both bc he insists and bc he knows they can switch if he needs to, which he does later w Eric. it's a good couple hours (at least 3) b4 they get 2 th campground Art wants to take them to, so clearly it is Music Time + Adam made sure 2 bring CDs! a lot of that time is just spent vibing 2 th music and singing very, very loudly (ESP on Adam + Mallick's end). Art's up front like u three are so fucking goofy (affectionate), but eventually he starts singing too lmao.

Mallick starts th Colour Game, where they try 2 find a car fr every colour of th rainbow. it's smth Eric is familiar w as well bc he used 2 play it w Daniel sometimes, and it's good until they come to purple bc how often do u see purple cars??? so Adam's just like "we're not gonna find pink either" n tht's when this fucking pink pickup truck (noticeably spray-painted, + not done well) passes them n Adam just groans n thumps his head against th window. Mallick is like, trying rly hard not to laugh by pressing a hand over his mouth + Art is biting his lip, but Eric is very openly cackling bc "u see what happens when u assume???" (he gets a very light slap 2 th shoulder but it's still very gentle)

ANYWAY. favourite snacks!! Adam can eat Way Too Many Sour Patch Kids. sour anything, actually, as long as it's candy. yes his tongue hurts and no he doesn't regret it. Eric just gets goldfish bc he tends 2 get a lil carsick + bc it's a food tht's familiar n comforting, n he doesn't rly want 2 be eating anything Too heavy (he's up front w Art, so he can sit by a window in case he needs some fresh air at any point). Mallick likes m&m's, but he switches fr cheez-its every once in a while bc he can only eat so much chocolate. Art likes those peanut-butter filled pretzel bites! he's also partial 2 animal crackers tho. they also bring a good amount of snacks/things they can b sure th four of them like, bc yeah there's a lil store abt a half hour away frm their campsite + they can go there to pick up things if they need 2, but it's easier 2 bring things they like, too. (there's also a mcdonald's in tht town n. they do go there at LEAST twice.)

th campsite they stay at has a lake + a beach, n one of Art + Adam's fave things 2 do is walk along it to see if they can find anything interesting! Mallick goes sometimes too, but mostly he stays w Eric bc Eric can't do tht fr as long as Adam + Art can (not tht he's resentful of it tho). he n Mallick chill on th beach w a blanket (it's kind of like. not necessarily sandy?) n just kinda sit against/lay on each other n read sometimes. Adam + Art come back 2 where they're set up to find them sleeping n Adam has never been more thankful he thought 2 bring his camera!!

on th second day Art + Mallick want 2 go swimming, so th four of them come back out to th beach, but Adam stays out of th water + Eric stays w him. they both know th water will be cold, even if it's late summer, n Adam rly doesn't like being in cold water ESP if it's over his head/he can't touch th bottom. fr Eric th cold can b kind of painful, so they chill n walk along th beach fr a little bit n just talk. Adam gets some good pictures n even gets some of Eric! he also does take a selfie of them, he can't help it. he gets a couple of Mallick + Art too. it's honestly such a nice thing fr them n it just feels like they can breathe easy, not having 2 worry abt looking over their shoulders constantly (tho they're all getting better abt that).

th third day they spend around th campsite to kind of unwind n relax. they might walk th beach a little bit again, but mostly they just sorta chill n walk some of th trails around the campground itself. when night falls they light a small bonfire (Mallick is still iffy around fire, understandably) n they sit around it in their folding chairs w th cupholders (Adam gets red, Eric has green, Art gets blue, + Mallick gets dark green) n make s'mores. they talk abt anything n everything until they're barely able 2 keep their eyes open, n then after making sure th fire is pretty much out they kinda just stumble into th tent n none of them r awake for very long after (they specifically got one tht cld comfortably hold th four of them).

fourth day!! they pack up n head into another little town about 45 minutes away; it's bigger than th one around th campgrounds. after they get situated in a motel room w two beds, they do some window shopping + going into lil stores that interest them! Adam def buys some niche graphic tees tht aren't going 2 make sense to anyone other than th four of them n he's delighted abt it. I like 2 think Eric gets a worry stone, specifically made out of rose quartz. Mallick too, but his is made of amethyst! he also gets a rly cool multicoloured jacket in a thrift store they duck into. Art gets a hoodie w th town's name on it n he's pretty happy w that. they get a few more lil things, just little knick-knacks while they're there, n then they have dinner in this lil diner they'd walked past earlier bc it's inexpensive + the atmosphere is very lowkey n honestly just Nice. there's not a bunch of ppl, the servers r rly kind n the lights aren't too bright, which Eric rly appreciates. it's such a tender moment bc they're squeezed into a booth, Adam + Mallick on one side n Art + Eric on th other, n they're talking n laughing n stealing bites of each other's food n it's Comfortable.

then they head back to th motel n channel surf while unpacking enough 2 get to their sleep clothes. Adam + Eric r sharing a bed n Art + Mallick r sharing th other one, tho Adam is very tempted 2 just push them together so they're all close by (th distance btwn th beds isn't tht big to begin with, but it's the principle of th thing). mostly tho, until they go to bed, they're pretty much just all stretched out Everywhere. Adam is only discouraged frm jumping across th divide btwn th beds bc Art breaks out his Lawyer Voice, despite trying rly hard not to laugh, to say Yr Going To Hurt Yrself, Don't Do That. he grumbles n whines abt it but Adam knows he's right jdhjks (th way he sees it is like. he can b silly sometimes. he's Earned It, but he also trusts Art + wasn't super serious abt tht idea). eventually tho Eric can hardly keep his eyes open n Mallick is just straight up asleep while he's still sitting up so tht's when they all go to bed after making sure every1 is comfortable. they leave a lamp on.

fifth day they pack everything up again n stop 2 walk th trails of this lil park b4 they head home! there's a lil shop near th parking lot so they spend a lil bit of time looking around in there first. they probably pick up a few lil things, souvenirs, n Adam walks around 2 get some pictures. he gets this rly cool one while they're on a bridge, th sun peeking thru the clouds a lil bit n shining down on th water. he's super excited to develop tht one (but he's excited to develop All of them, bc this is his family!!!) + he n Art discuss whether or not they're gonna need another cork board lol. eventually tho they round back to th parking lot n on th way home, they stop at another lil hole-in-th-wall kind of place, but it's just as nice as the first one they'd been to. after tht Eric switches spots w Art n he drives them home!!

they're all exhausted when they get back but they have room to crash w each other while they nap so tht's what they do. they fall asleep all tangled together, Art stretched out w Eric's head on his chest, Adam curled against Eric's back, n Mallick w his head on Art's stomach. there r arms n legs everywhere n tht is okay. they're happy. they love each other. they had a lot of fun on their trip n they're tired, but they're comfortable!! tht's what it's all abt!!! it's just such a good n relaxing experience fr them after all th shit they've been thru.

[enormous-moose]

Let's talk about Loki... the show

I finally watched it. I'm very disappointed. I liked it, but on a much deeper level I absolutely hated it.

Let me break it down for you. Spoilers ahead so don't read if you don't want to be spoiled. You've been warned.

Throughout the course of this I will be using "he/him" pronouns for Loki since the writers have fucked that up. Usually while talking about Loki I try to use they/them because it makes far more sense in the norse god perspective, however the Loki series decided to only pander to one aspect of Loki and that was on the subject of orientation that was just slipped in for fan service and was only a pathetic attempt at appeasement. (More on that in a bit)

First:

This was the selfish Loki. It was everything I feared it was going to be. I get why though, but still, was he redeemed by the end? NO! We lost everything that made him who he was at the beginning of Infinity War. Sure, it was fun to see him back to his old tricks, but mother fucker we only got a glimpse of IW Loki after he was slapped and beat up a thousand times by Sif.

Second:

This was a terrible terrible show for dealing with trauma. Loki spent his entire new life being shackled to a fate he couldn't escape from. Then he finds some semblance of happiness and that's taken from him. Then Slyvie is turned against him only because Loki couldn't talk her out of doing everything. Loki in the end lost and this was after he was abused and belittled into thinking he was the god of losers. Why not find a way for Loki to truly win? I get it, but holy fuck was it a terrible message.

Third:

Loki's bi-sexuality that was just tossed in quickly but with nothing else aiding in it. I am getting so fucking sick of movies just saying "oh yeah I'm bi" but then fucking end up with a male/female relationship anyway. I'm not asking for Loki to just like males because that's just as wrong. As a bi-sexual myself I would definitely like to see something more along the lines of a bi-sexual who doesn't favor one gender. I get you are trying to be inclusive and you are trying to take baby steps into including preferences, but damn show don't fucking tell!!!

Fourth:

Loki the god of outcasts... yes! Yes Loki is! Thank you for just putting that in as a dismissive joke made by the fucking god tier loki who was a freaking beast!

Fifth:

Kid Loki I was expecting to just have a bit more power other than just everyone saying he had power... I'm calling it now. Everyone remember that snake story that Thor shared in Ragnarok? Well Kid loki was taken because instead of Thor recovering from the stab Thor died.

Sixth:

There are a lot of things wrong with the TVA and I mean storyline wise. Like if they knew Loki was always supposed to be a certain way and every variant was needing to be taken out why wait until after they stray from the timeline? Female Loki was born, that's wrong, so wipe that. Honestly when you add time travel into anything it sucks the purpose out of everything. I wished time travel was just an End Game kind of thing and I'm very very upset they are not only continuing with it but using it as a major plot and theme fo the next major villain. End Game time travel was handled very tastefully and even the Ancient One warned everyone about time travel because of how much it sucked, did anyone listen? FUCK NO!

Seventh:

Kang!!!!!!!!!!! THE FUCKING CONQUEROR!!! How fucking dare you! You had the perfect set up, the absolutely fucking perfect thing and you destroyed it. I can't the ending was terrible, it was trash and I hated it. There's so much wrong with it and if I unpacked everything I'd give myself a headache. This is why time travel and multiverse is such a terrible thing. You cannot go back to a time before it. What happens now? How can anyone defeat this story line and everything just jumps back to good times? Oh you have to make it a genuine one too... not one where a bomb explodes and all the bad guys are destroyed at once... BECAUSE YOU ALREADY DID THAT!!!

Anyway, I'm so freaking mad at this show! I haven't even gotten into the disservice and lack of care and attention it had in building quality relationships. So while I hated hated hated this show, it was fine to watch, does it set up terrible terrible things in the future? Yep, will I continue to follow the MCU? You can bet your sweet ass I will. Am I going to openly hate every moment? I'll say it loud enough for anyone to hear who wants to.

All I want is for the X-Men to be included, they are my babies and I cherish them far beyond everything else. To see Nightcrawler in the MCU with three sabers and a bunch of bamfs would literally make me die from happiness. Do I want that to happen in this train wreck of a thing we are heading into? ABSOLUTELY NOT!! Buckle in everyone, we've entered the overly complicated multiverse and there is no going back.

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #1: That Night in Mykonos

[Heatwave // Godless] [Drabble Masterlist]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: That one not-so-forgotten filthy drunken night in Mykonos that you and Taehyung never speak about again. For good reason.

Genre: drabble, smut

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do it), beach sex, oral (m/f), taehyung’s tongue technology, dom!Tae, daddy kink, exhibitionism kink, facial (lol oop), cumplay, spanking, degradation if you count slapping your face with his dick, may make you fall in love with this couple even more soz

Word count: 6k (why am i incapable of making even a drabble short and quick?)

A/N: As per highly requested… :) If you’ve randomly stumbled upon this, definitely read Heatwave first to understand the plot.

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The gentle washing of the waves sings a lullaby to your ears. You have always loved the sound of the ocean, so serene, yet holding so much power. Wiggling your toes, you watch the minute grains of sand trickle off your feet like a waterfall. Nonchalant, you take a swig of cider, its fruity acidity burning a bittersweet trail down your throat.

‘Man, I fucking love Mykonos.’ Taehyung slurs beside you, tipsy from his fourth bottle of beer he’s clutching like a trophy.

‘Thank you again for bringing me here, Taehyung.’

The two of you are sat on a towel by the beach, watching the moon paint its own reflection in the water. Sky crystal clear, as it is every single night here in Greece, the constellations hanging over your heads set a tranquil tone to the last evening of your trip.

‘Hey, what did I say? Stop thanking me. Now you have to finish your drink.’ Playfully, he flicks the tip of your nose in reprimand.

Grinning, you roll your eyes but follow his stupid rule. Not that you can’t hold your liquor, but this is your seventh drink, and you’re starting to feel it pulsating up to your head.

‘No, but you were right.’ Words tumble out of his pretty lips that you can’t help but admire. ‘It was a good call not to go out tonight. If we actually went hard at VOID, our flight tomorrow would be hell.’ He is referring to the club you have been religiously visiting almost every night this week. ‘This is much better. Nice and chill.’

With a mighty sigh, he falls onto his back, head hitting the edge of the towel, narrowly missing sand invasion in his hair. Rolling your empty bottle away, you join beside him.

‘This has to be the weirdest but also best holiday of my life.’ You ruminate. The stars are shining particularly bright tonight, you wonder if they know it’s your last night here and want to bid farewell.

The chesty chuckle Taehyung lets out reverberates into you. ‘Definitely the weirdest.’ He turns his head to face you. ‘I can’t believe I’m in Mykonos with this random chick I met in the club, who offered to rent me her place, so I guess she’s now my roommate, when this whole trip was planned to be a surprise for my girlfriend who had been cheating on me for months.’

Taehyung is especially chatty and vivacious when drunk, you’ve noticed from the past few days. Normally he’s laid back, spaced out even. But give him some booze, and all his emotions and thoughts cartwheel out of him. Though you’re only beginning to know him, he’s immensely interesting, you can tell he holds so many layers to him that requires inquisition over time.

‘Wow, random chick from the club? Bitch, you ripped out my hair.’ You laugh and smack at his chest, hand lingering for a little too long.

Wait, chest smack? Why are you using your classic move on him?

You’re a flirt, you can’t help it. The cider’s doing its thing, you guess.

‘Man, I’m so sorry about that, you have no idea how awful I felt.’ He inches closer to you until his head is rested upon your shoulder. Right, he’s also especially touchy when drunk. Anyone who walks past right now could mistaken you as close friends, when in reality, you’ve known each other no more than a month.

To be completely fair, you have spent everyday of this said month together since that club night, helping him move in and unpack, and now travelling together. You guess you’re kind of friends now.

‘These past few weeks have been so crazy. I was just trying to have a good night out when a wild Kim Taehyung appeared and somersaulted into my life. And now we’re lying by the Mediterrenean sea together, tanned and drunk.’ His hair is tickling your neck so you push it away. Your fingers brush against his forehead and he hums at the contact.

‘But hey, on a serious note, hand on heart,’ Taehyung gazes up at you, ‘I’m so glad I got to do this with you. You are one of the coolest people I know, and I wouldn’t have wanted to come here with anyone else. Not like I have anyone else right now… My ex can go fuck herself, or fuck Jimin. I have a bigger dick anyway.’

You sit up, choking on your laughter. Out of the blue, he’ll always hit you with these one-liners that are absolutely pure gold. ‘Okay, Mr. I’ve-Fucked-Nine-Girls-This-Week.’

Pride beaming from his smile, he tugs you back down beside him. ‘Hey, I was in a relationship for three years, I need this. Miss I-Had-A-Threesome-With-Two-Guys-On-Our-First-Night.’

The two of you splutter your drunken giggles. The two guys were Italian, come on, how could you have passed up on the opportunity?

Despite the time of evening, the breezes that gust pass are humid. The temperature is perfect, actually, no sun blazing down to melt you into puddles. You’re probably too drunk to appreciate this moment but one day you’ll look back at this night cherishingly, you hope.

‘You’re right. I’m glad I came with you, Taehyung.’ It’s your turn to look at him. ‘I’ll get such an earful from Lotta when I get back but it’s all worth it. I can’t believe we got away with half of the things that we did!’

‘I know right?’ His arm feels particularly warm against you. It may be the alcohol working its magic but his voice sounds so deep and mellow tonight, like dark chocolate dissolving in your mouth. ‘The way they upgraded our room to a premium when we pretended to be a couple on our honeymoon.’

The memory is fuzzy but fond in your inebriated mind. ‘You’re welcome. I’m a master bullshitter.’

‘We even got that couple’s spa treatment and free wine and dine night.’

To be completely honest, it wasn’t difficult pretending to be loved up newly-weds. A lot of that affection you were displaying towards Taehyung wasn’t fake; he’s this perfect specimen of a man, gorgeous face, toned body, captivating personality, quirky humour - anyone’s dream boyfriend, really. You’ve tried to tone your attraction to him down, you can’t be lusting over your new roommate after all. Things would get too messy. But it was just for fun anyway, there’s no harm in a few pretend embraces and neck kisses to get those couple’s perks.

You’re just friends.

Though a part of you envies the nine girls he’s slept with this holiday, because you’ve seen the outline of his bulge in his swim trunks and Holy Shit… But as much as you like to fuck around, there’s a clear line that separates roommates and guys you bang. Those are two mutually exclusive groups of people in your life, the Venn Diagram does not intersect.

‘Hey, you wanna go for one last swim?’ You’re pulled from your thoughts by Taehyung’s suggestion.

It’s a bad idea, swimming this late at night, having downed a few bottles. But when has your inner conscience ever stopped you from doing what you want?

‘’Course.’ He is already removing his shirt as he stands, and you can all but ogle at the muscle of his moonlit back as you reply.

Following his action, you turn away from him and peel off your shorts that have stuck to your skin from sitting for so long. Are you perhaps trying to tempt him with the view of your bent over ass? Hmm, possibly… He does pay an awful lot of attention to your rear every time you wear these shorts... Carelessly flinging your top onto the rest of your things, you spy him staring at you in your periphery, hands stuffed into his shorts pockets. You adjust the pad of your bikini top, perhaps more dramatic than you needed to.

A smirk plays at your mouth. Why are you trying to get his attention?

Feet sinking into the soft sand, you pad after him towards the calm beckoning water. Your head is feeling hazy from the ciders, and when you spot the lazy smile he’s wearing, you know it’s hitting him too. Gazing up at the moon, you realise you feel blue. Not blue in a sad melancholic sense. But blue as in cool, relaxed, heart-at-peace blue; you’re going for one last night swim in the most beautiful country with your handsome new roommate, blue. A hint of romantic lyricism. Maybe.

‘I’m really gonna mis- Taehyung!’ You screech into the quiet night when he all of a sudden picks you up and carries you bridal-style into the sea.

And tosses you into the water.

Arms flailing midair, you’re catapulted into the waves like a pebble. The cold hits your curled spine first, harsh and shocking. Then it detonates within you, a volcano of ice numbing all your senses and aching your bones.

When you find your bearings and gasp up for air, you see him, ocean up to his knees, head whipped back in laughter, clutching his tensing core, eyes pinched into crescents as the most warming sound leaves his mouth.

‘You piece of shit!’ You lunge for him, but your limbs feel heavy in the water, restricting the power of your attack that he dodges so effortlessly.

But you don’t give up so easily. Tide washing you towards him, you launch yourself again, saltine droplets splattering all over his face. Resigning, Taehyung lets you drag him by the hand away from the shore, waddling clumsily against the stubborn current that’s determined to push you back to the beach.

‘Dick and balls, it’s freezing.’ He heaves.

‘Wuss. You’re not the one who got dunked.’ The chill is licking at your skin, seeping into your hair that splays out in floating silk tendrils. You’ve stopped walking on the sand now, instead spreading onto your front and allowing your swimming arms and paddling legs to move you.

Water up to his chest, you see the goosebumps rise on his blue-bronze unsullied skin, star-freckled sea reflecting wavering diamond silhouettes onto his chiseled front. Following the defined protrusion of his salient collarbones, then the sleek inward curve of his neck, your gaze arrives at his face. His strong brow never fails to strike you; tongue loitering out between his folded lips; brown tufts of salt-kissed, breeze-licked hair a mess but a masterpiece still. Eyes painted with a warm summer glimmer, sapphire and still, he observes you from where he stands.

The fluttering in your heart is now indistinguishable from your shivering due to the wet cold.

‘Come on, let’s swim out a bit further.’ He nods to the open ocean, refusing to spare you from his pinning stare.

Body heavy from the alcohol, the cold and simply your lethargism, you dive below the surface. With your water-blurred vision, you swim after his slow walking legs, bubbles you release tickling your face. You grapple onto his ankle, hear his muffled yelp and stifle a mischievous giggle.

Launching off the sand bed, you lurch up to the surface, inhaling sharply at your first breath of air. You push your hair back to see Taehyung regard you with a mystical expression.

‘It’s too deep here,’ you whine, ‘I can’t touch the floor.’ Not particularly athletic, treading water in order to stay afloat is wearing you down.

‘Hold on to me then, midget.’ He chuckles and holds out his hand which you quickly grab onto. With the stability he provides, you pull yourself up his arm like a buoy line and perch your elbow on his shoulder.

Which draws you unexpectedly close to his face. Nose mere inches from his chin. You smell his familiar honey musk.

Unfazed by your proximity, his arm circles behind you before landing one your waist, the warmth of his touch blooming like flowers on your skin. Why does his hand feel so nice on you? Why can’t you stop staring at him?

‘Better?’ Vibrations of his throat hum into your core.

‘Thanks.’ Your poise on his shoulder is sliding so you snake your arm around his neck, hoisting your body up against his. The contact snaps a cord inside you, sensation of him tingling everywhere you touch.

‘You’re such a little princess.’ He rolls his eyes theatrically in feign mockery, but his smirk betrays his mirth.

‘Shut up, you love it.’ This playful banter weighs heavy in your chest, constricting it, winding it. Because if it were anybody else, it would be flirting... Or maybe you are flirting with him right now. You’re not sure anymore.

A droplet of water is trickling along the edge of his jaw, your focus is transfixed at its smooth descent to his chin. Your bodies are bobbing with the calm waves, up, down, up, down. Then your eyes lock and-

Fuck.

You want him.

You really fucking want him.

Right now.

Right here.

Taehyung’s glare sears a mark in you, and it’s burning like the flames of hell all the way down to your sex. With the side of his finger, he doesn’t need to so much as touch you to tip your head up his way because that’s how willing you are. One tilt, that’s all it takes to kiss him right now. His fingers are sinking into your tender waist, and immediately you wonder how they must feel inside you.

‘I do love it.’ He slides his cheek against yours and traces the bridge of your nose with the tip of his.

And then.

You taste the sea on his lips, salt and cold. It feels like diving into the ocean, plunging into the deep blue and simply allowing your body to be swept away. His kiss is greedy, hungry, willing you to submit to him and follow his lead. And in your intoxicated state, you do so.

Legs wrapping around his torso in the water, his hands caress up your thighs to your ass, digging into your plump flesh with an ardour that releases a damp arousal from your slit. Your own fingers grope down his chest and toy with his hair, scratching and tugging. When he nibbles on your bottom lip and you know that you’re done for. You melt like putty in his control, meeting his tongue with a soft obedience you don’t normally exert.

‘Taehyung.’ You gasp into his mouth.

‘I’m all yours tonight, baby.’ is all he says before diving back into you. Those words sends the possessive animal in your mind wild with satisfaction. Because yes, he better fucking be all yours tonight.

Kissing Taehyung feels different. Perhaps it’s because of the build up of tension you have been harbouring these past few days. Or maybe it’s the thrill of knowing that you shouldn’t be doing this, the thrill of doing the forbidden. Or rather, it’s the way he wields his dominance over you so ferally and fervently, like he’s been waiting for as long as you have to do this.

Kissing Taehyung is teeth and tongue.

Kissing Taehyung is salt and the midnight breeze.

Kissing Taehyung is blue. The kind of blue you see only in the hottest of flames.

When you feel his stiff length poke underneath you, your cunt is set ablaze with desire. Desire to sink down onto him this instant and have him pound into you amidst the ocean until you both feel faint. Desire for him to break you in half with all his might, make your eyes water with from the pleasure he stabs into you.

Slowly he begins to walk you back to the shore, gripping your legs around his waist as you lock your arms around his neck. Lips never leaving each other longer than a second to breathe.

His ravenous mouth travels down to your breasts, and he doesn’t hesitate to devour them from your bathing suit, suckling angry red marks down your cleavage and around your nipples. Though clothed, the prominence of his cock burrows between your wide open entrance, rubbing against your bikini-clad clit and making you thrust your hips further into him.

Feverish from his touch, you don’t realise you’re on land until he gently falls onto his knees and carefully places you on the towels below him. Too drunk to even care if anyone else is on the beach, not that there was before you got in the water, you pull him by the neck onto you.

As he kisses a torching trail down your wet body, your mind is somewhere else, in a heaven that worships Taehyung. Hands kneading your exposed breasts, the wisp of his breath tingles down your navel, tying a knot in your core. With his teeth, he obscenely tugs loose the string that ties your bikini bottom together. The fabric falls loose lifelessly, revealing your soaking cunt, shimmering with want for him.

‘So wet.’ He muses as he kisses your pelvic bone, finger stroking up your slick to gather the liquid of your arousal. Then he prods his finger into your mouth, your tongue compliantly lapping up your own taste, salty from the sea. ‘Who made you this wet?’

‘You.’ You’re practically pleading as he sucks viciously at your inner thigh, so close to your weeping pussy.

‘I want you to call me daddy.’

You stiffen under him. Daddy. He wants you to call him daddy. Oh, but of course Taehyung has a daddy kink. It’s so ridiculously characteristic now that he has revealed it, that if you aren’t drunk, you would be rolling your eyes and laughing.

‘Fine, daddy.’ There’s an undertone of travesty to your reply. Whether he notices, he doesn’t show as he kisses closer and closer to your slit.

At the first contact of his lips to your clit, your hips buckle upwards and fingers fly to entangle his hair. Sucking harshly on your sensitive bud, all you’re capable of is squirming and writhing underneath him like a possessed body. The sensation of his mouth sucking on your succulence sends a shot of ecstasy down your quaking legs. Your head feels dizzy.

‘Fuck!’ You whine.

‘You like that, baby?’ When he looks up at you, wet smirk on his lips breathing hot air into your cunt, a coil winds in your stomach.

‘Yes, daddy.’ Your grip on his hair tightens.

Then he’s gorging you like a feast, tongue fluttering on your swollen bundle of nerves, your kryptonite, teeth scraping along your folds seductively. After several licks of your entrance, he pushes not one, but two digits into your cunt. They ease in, lubricated by your moist walls that welcome the pressure of his intrusion into you like the open sea. He draws wide circles inside you, and it feels like your innards are being stirred to perfection by a metal rod. In the meantime, his assault on your clit does not falter, rhythmically hitting his tongue against you, allowing the vibrations of his humming to penetrate your core.

Looking down, this is simply the most beautiful sight you’ve ever witnessed. Taehyung, eyes glimpsing up at you hungrily, face buried nose-deep in your pussy, hands gripping under your thighs that are rested on his shoulders, all the while the moon shines its ethereal glow onto you and the iridescent ocean in the background plays a symphony harmonious to your moans and his filthy slurps.

Suddenly, an explosion of pleasure arrives at your clit. ‘Oh, fuck yes!’ You screech, throat raw from the pure elation that washes over you. The throbbing in your cunt releases at his continuous friction, pulsating so wildly you think you will burst. His fingers pump out your high as he sucks one last time, long and hard, on your beating clit. ‘Ah… Oh my god… Taehyung…’

Finally he emerges from between your legs to breathe. You watch as your fluid dribble down his chin lewdly, your thumb swipes to catch the wetness.

‘How was that?’ Untangling his arms from your legs, he walks up on his elbows to meet your lips in a tender kiss.

‘Mind-blowing.’ You utter against his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head for dramatic effect. ‘Let’s continue back in our room.’ Quickly you do up your bikini, impatient for more.

Without needing another word, Taehyung sweeps you into his arms, gathers all your belongings and hastily carries you back to your hotel located just a minute away from the beach. Although, it takes much longer than a minute for you to arrive seeing as multiple detours are made along the way, fondling behind a tree, kissing in the elevator and missing your floor.

And when you’re finally in the confines of your room, he pins you to the closed door, not even bothering to switch on the lights, lips latched onto your magnetising neck. Your wrists trapped in his grip against the hard wood, you ache to touch him as his teeth find your earlobe. Nipping at your soft round flesh, a pleasant shock is sent down your spine at the twinge of pain.

‘Daddy…’ You sigh.

He pulls away to stare into your beseeching eyes. ‘What do you want daddy to do to you?’ His voice is a low grumble of dominance, digging its talons into your brain.

‘I want… I want you to fuck me until I cry.’ In the dark of the room, your attention flickers to the moonlit terrace outside. ‘Right on that balcony over there.’

Something in his obsidian eyes ignite at your suggestion. Zealous with lust, he brings you through the glass door that opens to the fresh night. ‘You want me to fuck you right here, baby? For everyone to see?’

Danger lurking one kiss away, you sense the precarious position his sanity is at. So you reach down and grab his hard member over his shorts, and tip his mind to a carnal frenzy.

‘Yes please, daddy.’ The name is the last straw for him. His breath hitches as you tug down his pants and allow his enormous cock to spring free.

Spinning you around roughly, he bends you over onto the rail of the balcony and strips off your swimsuit in one deft gesture. From here, you have an unobstructed view of the coast, lined by bustling bars and closing restaurants. The neighbouring terraces are a metre away, if anyone walks out now, they would horrifically witness Taehyung’s gargantuan length about to drill into you from behind.

Your heart is pounding in excitement of the risk as well as the anticipation of his cock. Not being able to see him, he can thrust into you any moment now, he must be revelling in such control he holds.

Then you feel it, his large round tip pressing against your entrance curiously. Your legs shake expectantly while fresh arousal leaks out of you, mixing with his precum he’s pressing into you. ‘Beg one more time for me.’

Taehyung and his motherfucking ego.

‘Please, daddy.’ Allowing the words to drag out on your tongue, you twist your neck to look at him with wide pleading eyes. He looks like a king, towering over you with this much assertion, relishing in the power he holds above you in this very moment.

‘Good girl.’

Hands holding your hips in place, he slams his tremendous member into your gaping cunt in one forceful plunge. You can’t help but cry out at the sheer stretch of your walls he’s spanning. Holy fuck, he’s so big he makes it feels like your first time.

All you feel at first is an incredible cinching of your core, the ache of him impaling his rigid shaft through the resisting pressure of your vagina. God, is he fucking massive. He seems to know it as well because he gives you a second to adjust to his size, palm scaling smoothly up the hill of your back to gather your hair in his hand like a rein. Then he is pummelling into you, hips slapping against your bottom, ringing such vulgar sounds in your ears. His cock, hard as if carved from marble, piercing through the pain and moulding a thing of sweet sweet pleasure inside you. You grip the rail so tight its edge gouges marks into your skin, your head hung low between your tense arms.

‘Fu-u-u-uckk-k-k-’ He fucks those syllables out of you one by one. At this angle, his cock is curving up the wrong way into you, jabbing at pockets that normally aren’t reached.

A part of your soul is no longer with you, propelled elsewhere by his ceaseless merciless attack on your cunt. Then comes the sting of his palm when he spanks a searing hot mark into your ass cheek. The sharp pain is refreshing alongside the dull ache behind the euphoric throb he is penetrating into you.

‘This fucking ass of yours, baby. Been driving me nuts in those shorts all week.’ Another slap echoes in your ears, and you welcome it by curving your back more to tip your tush higher for him.

‘Daddy, you fuck me so good.’ Playing along with this narrative he’s into, you egg him on further, stroking his ego as your walls are stroking his dick. Because, damn, he is fucking you so good. Pounding into you with such vigour and violence that your folds are beginning to sting.

You’ve reached a point now where you’re no longer intoxicated by alcohol, but more the addictive fumes of him.

Moans that fall from his lips tingle at your clit, which you start to play with to add to your stimulation. Another smack on your ass, this time so surprising that you scream out. ‘Yes, be loud for me. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.’ He coaxes.

Taehyung begins to slow, which you know is a sign that he’s close but doesn’t want to blow his load yet. He bends over you, your hair still tied around his wrist, and nips at the shell of your ear. You’ve never known your ear to be such an erogenous zone, for when his tongue flickers at your inner shell, a shudder convulses through you. Leaving slobbery kisses down the curve of your shoulder, he slowly pulls out of you.

‘Finish on the bed?’ As Taehyung embraces you from behind, his strong arm comes under your cold lonely breasts that perk up at his attention, his dripping wet cock sitting between your red ass cheeks. The hum of his deep rasp on your neck sends your head lolling back onto his sweat-dotted chest.

‘Sure.’ What leaves you is a mere huff, you can’t even conjure your voice.

His lips seal yours as he walks you back into the room, leaving the glass door open for the night breeze to grace you. Amidst the savage sex, you treasure such a soft, delicate moment on your tongue, delighting in the way the tips of his fingers trace up your side. When his hand slithers up to your face, you melt into the warm flesh of his palm, mouth opening up for him to unfurl into.

Then the back of your knees hit the bed, and you know it’s about to begin again. Without breaking the union of your lips, you clamber onto the sheets with his frame hovering over you. Grappling on his neck, you drag Taehyung atop you as your head sinks down onto the plush of the pillow.

He sucks on your plump bottom lip one last time before pulling away. Fluid still profusely oozing out of the slit of his tip, telltale of his concupiscence, he perches between your legs. ‘How do you want it, baby?’ His tone endearing, yet eyes deadly dangerous.

Impatient for him to fill you to the brim again, you lift your both legs up for him to grab and place onto his shoulders. ‘Like this please, daddy.’

That’s all you have to say for him to grunt okay and push deep into you, knees digging into the mattress like lampposts. In this position, his cock reaches your cervix without hindrance, his swollen head slamming into your end every thrust he gives. It’s a different type of ache this time, more acutely targeted at the one sensitive spot inside you. As he continues you thrust into you, bollocks swinging at your ass, a build up of sensitivity gathers at your core.

You feel it approaching, that imminent contortion of your cunt, looming over you, on the brink of toppling your senses.

‘Keep going.’ You whimper, the filthy feeling of his prick hammering so fast into you enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to keep them open, watch his tongue poke out in concentration as he watches your body quiver under his. But the intensity of his fucking is truly too overwhelming that a single droplet leaks out and flow down your temple.

‘I’m so close.’ Taehyung heaves, pecking the bone of your ankle. Something ruptures within him, his sanity, humanity, and suddenly with an even more arduous determination he drives into your walls like a crazed beast. Sole purpose now to reach the climax awaiting him, he spreads your legs open wide before him and rabidly plunges his twitching prick.

And for the second and third time this night, your orgasm hits you, one immediately followed by the other. ‘Taehyung, I’m-’ You’re a crying thrashing body beneath him, the ecstatic pleasure obliterating your mind into ruins as your cunt erupts. The string of profanities that leave you sound incoherent to your own hearing.

You won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow, you’re sure of it.

Taehyung watches you break on his cock, walls tightening impossibly around him, until only a husk of your being remains.

‘Holy shit, I’m gonna come.’ Frantic with excitement, his hips move sloppily. ‘Where should I come?’

‘All over my face? In my mouth?’ Cupping your breast, you gaze up at him with salacious eyes.

‘Oh my fuck- Yes.’

Yanking himself out, a string of your own release threaded at his tip, he slides himself up the bed until his knees are on either side of your head. Pornographically he slaps his hot length on your cheek several times as you roll out your tongue for him. ‘You like that? You like my dick on your face?’

‘Hmmm.’ You engulf his seeping tip in your ready mouth while he jerks himself off with a teenage boy’s zest, his knuckles hitting at the underside of your chin.

Eager to coax his orgasm, you lick fervently at his sensitive head, right on the patch of skin around his slit that drives every man insane.

‘Oh fuck! Baby-’

Abruptly, he withdraws his cock from your mouth. Not after two strokes, he is shooting hot white spurts of his seed onto your face, your eyes shutting just in time to avoid being fired at. Some of his fluid lands in your mouth, brewing bitterly on your awaiting tongue. Eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulses involuntarily in his hand as he lurches his high to an end.

‘You look so fucking good with my cum all over your face.’ Taehyung stares at his piece of work, splattered across your cheeks, on your forehead, and unfortunately for you, in your hair. Feral demeanour dimming, he leans down and gently smears his ejaculation all over your skin before nudging it into your mouth.

Like his good little baby you are, you swallow it like it’s your milk.

‘Mm…’ Throat hoarse from all the moaning, you suck his taste off his thumb.

Exhaustion dawns over the both of you when the adrenaline drains from your blood. Ache straining between your thighs, you waddle over to the bathroom quickly before him cum dries into a crusty nightmare.

Your sex-ridden, hair-dishevelled, hickey-speckled reflection greets you in the mirror. Realisation of your actions sink into your heart along with the sour taste of guilt.

What the fuck have you done?

You just had the wildest sex with Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taehyung, your new roommate.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you try to form back the logic shattered by his brutal fucking. Why do you have to be the way that you are? Just why are you so incapable of controlling your nymphomania?

‘You okay?’ Taehyung’s bass booms from the bedroom, startling you from your turmoil.

You gave into your temptations. You fucked up.

But this isn’t unsalvageable, you two can recover from it. After all, it’s not like you have been lifelong best friends, you’ve only just met each other, still stepping into deeper stages of your friendship day by day. As long as you don’t let this happen again, stop seeing him in a sexual light, you two should be fine.

Yes, you’ll be fine.

Drying your washed face with a towel, your answer is muffled. ‘Yep, all good.’

When you roam back to the room, you see him sprawled out like a Greek God, still shirtless but now wearing sweatpants that outlines his bulge all too well, bed sheets bunched to the side to aerate his sweat-dampened body. His eyes crawl over your naked form with a thirst that has you willing to drop to your knees and suck him off again. Spoilt in the attention he’s doling you, you climb beside him perhaps too seductively than you should.

Stop. You shouldn’t.

Taehyung doesn’t waste a second to pull you into his chest and smother you with slow, passionate kisses. Such contradiction to his rough handling of you sheer minutes ago. His tongue feels heavier, nicer as it rolls along yours, maybe because you’re now sober, senses no longer dulled by alcohol.

It’s a difficulty to retract from his romantic poet of a mouth whose sole purpose is to entice you into its warm embrace. But you do. ‘Hey… We really shouldn’t have…’ You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence because you care too much for his feelings to hurt him.

But then the cool nonchalance in his pupils relieve you of your fear. ‘Yeah… Probably not the smartest move.’

His fingers toy fondly with your hair, twirling it like a velvet ribbon. Eyes wide with his boyish innocence, you wonder if this is the same person who was just slapping his dick on your cheek and made you call him daddy. This trip was meant to allow you to understand him better, yet you remain stuck, perhaps more than before, in his enigma.

And you wonder how his girlfriend could ever have sought after anyone else Taehyung is… Well he has just done that…

‘It doesn’t change anything, right? We’re still friends?’ You want to roll out of his clasp yet his arms feel so soft and smooth and perfect to fall asleep in.

‘Of course, Y/N’ From the earnesty in his tone, you know you can trust his word.

To resume your previous playful dynamic, you pinch his nose between your knuckles. ‘Then let go of me, friends don’t cuddle.’

‘Friends do cuddle.’ He frowns, shocked as if you’ve just slapped him across the face with a whole cabbage of kimchi.

‘Uh… No they don’t.’ Repulsed by such affection, you try to wiggle away but he locks his arms around your torso like a vice.

‘I don’t know what kind of friends you’ve had, but you’re stuck with me now and in Taehyung-land: Friends. Cuddle.’ Blowing raspberries on your ticklish neck, he lets you squirm like a fish in attempt to escape his coddling, chest rumbling into your back with laughter. Your squeals of help turn into giggles. Raspberries turn into kisses.

You freeze. ‘Oi, friends don’t kiss friends’ necks.’

‘Come on, we just had sex, let me just kiss you a bit more.’ Watching him pout so babily, your heart squeezes. Fuck. Why is your heart squeezing?

But you kiss his jutted lips, still. Savouring his taste that you know you won’t have the chance to delight in again. ‘Fine, but if you try to kiss me tomorrow, I’ll kick your nuts.’

Taehyung takes that as a green light to use you as a snuggle toy for the rest of the night, mouth gallivanting the ocean that is your skin.

.

07/09/18

© Copyright 2019

.

@shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @shimtatae @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365  @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @angelswrld @expensive-bangtan-girl @icyi-sky @gingerpeachtae @taexxxiiaa @spring2787 @monixreal

[justasparkwritings]

The Word of Your Body: Holy {4}

Previous: You’re Gonna Be My Bruise

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

Genre: Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, Pregnancy, Fatherhood, Questioning Religion 

Listening: Holy by Justin Bieber 

Master List

      Namjoon didn’t believe in God, or god, or Him. He didn’t believe in a higher being, a power that created and decided the fate of all peoples. There was no Buddha, Allah, Brahma or Vishnu. No shabbat or Holi or Ramadan. He didn’t believe in any of it. Army was King and Queen, Empress over his fate and his life. He didn’t feel anything around Easter or Christmas, there was no desire to bow his head and pray over a tragedy. He didn’t feel guilty for every sin committed, or anytime an “oh my god!” crossed his lips. He didn’t feel like there was anything moving his life forward except for BTS and you.

        When he had asked you to marry him, he felt an inkling of what prayer was. There was nothing he wanted more than to marry you, to create a family, to live his days intertwined with yours. He was positive you were going to say yes, but he found himself wishing and hoping for your answer amidst the ten seconds it took before you responded. He didn’t realize it was prayer, nor did he think his hope that you would say yes would be constituted as a form of worship. But on bended knee, in the few seconds before you answered, he offered it up.  

        Your resounding yes sounded like an alleluia on Easter morning, a sensation he had experienced with you a year prior. He didn’t understand it, but he felt it.

        “I don’t understand why you participate in it,” He said, drinking his coffee at your favorite local breakfast spot the day after his first Easter service. The two of you had come to your home to spend the holiday with your family, which meant showing him where you grew up and yes, bringing him to church.

        “Why?” You asked, sipping your coffee.

        “It, it doesn’t make sense, why would you believe in something that’s so, cynical?” He wondered.

        “The religion you’re speaking of and the religion I subscribe to are two different things,” You said.

        “How?”

        “Because the religion your speaking of is God as a vengeful, omniscient dictator, demanding sacrifices, demanding life, wanting fees and fines designed by man to prove your loyalty to capitalism, not to God. The God that I believe in, that I celebrate, is merciful. He fights for what is right and just, for equity, for love.”

        “Like Sailor Moon,” He smiled.

        “Without the talking cat,” You winked.

        He hadn’t understood what you meant until you’d given him a copy of your favorite book, which detailed the life of Jesus and his wife, Ana. It wove the notions of Jesus as savior with Jesus as man and expanded his understanding of what a savior could mean. It wasn’t that he suddenly believed in religion, or had faith, because he didn’t. Reading your favorite book had only made him fall more in love with you and made his understanding of religion murky at best. He did admit that he could see its place in your life and accept it for what it was.

        The second time Namjoon had prayed was when you took your last pregnancy test. Conceiving wasn’t easy, and he beat himself up every time a test came back negative. You tried to dissuade his fears, tell him that it took time, it wasn’t going to happen the first time you had unprotected sex. He knew he wanted kids; he knew he wanted kids with you. The inability to get you pregnant for two years, even with increased hormone treatments and meticulous care placed on both of your bodies, he felt like he was exhausting all options. Every choice he was making led to further disappointment when the test came back negative.

        Why couldn’t his body do the one thing it was designed to do? Was it the dancing in tight pants? Was it working out too much? Riding his bike too often? Why weren’t different positions, different times of day, number of orgasms leading to the creation of life that was half you, half him?

        He found himself scrolling through his phone, looking for any sort of solace when he came across a quote you had typed into his phone’s notes for when he felt nervous. You said it every time you had an interview or presentation, a Bible verse imprinted on you during adolescents. As he read the words, the idea of prayer came into his mind… he quickly looked up how to pray before closing his phone. Wasn’t the point that you didn’t need to have a formal way of asking God for help or guidance? Dejectedly, Namjoon bowed his head, closed his eyes and let the words flow out of him.

        Namjoon’s heart soared when you took your first positive test. It nearly erupted at your first sonogram. The thump-thump-thump of your child’s heartbeat had been like angels singing. You had created a life; you were going to have a child together. Maybe with his eyes and your nose, or your heart and his mind… Either way, he had heard a chorus echoing every time he saw your bump and felt your baby kick.

        He couldn’t reason with himself though, did he now owe God something because whomever it was had fulfilled his prayer? Would he have to baptize the baby, offer it up on an altar like Abraham or split it in two like Solomon? Was God holding a grudge against him now because he hadn’t exalted him fully?

        He had borne his soul to you shortly after your eighth month. His conscious was weighing heavy.

        “I need to tell you something,” He said, sitting next to you on the couch.

        “Okay,” You said, setting your phone face down on the coffee table. “What is it?”

        “I, I did something, and I don’t know what to do next,” He couldn’t tell if he was ashamed, nervous, or bashful. Would you laugh or be surprised or lovingly tell him it was okay?

        “What did you do?” You asked, cautiously.

        “I,” He sighed, “I prayed.” He glanced up at you through his lashes, gauging your response before proceeding.

        “Okay, and?”

        “What am I supposed to do now? Do I owe God something? Is our child a sacrifice?”

        “Well, what did you pray for?” You asked.

        “A baby.”

        “Namjoon, look at me,” You said lightly.

        “What?” He reluctantly lifted his gaze to lock with yours.

        “I did too,” You smiled.

        He felt the baptismal waters crash down on him.

        “You did? Oh, fuck. That, that makes me feel better. Do, do we have to do anything?” He reached for your hands as you laughed. Your baby kicking at the movement in your body.

        “We can say a prayer of thanksgiving, but that’s not really how God works.” You said.

        “I’ve read articles, and books, and the expectation that you offer something up to God in thanksgiving is everywhere. He grants a prayer and you give thanks. I’ve spent the past seven months trying to figure out what that thanksgiving is supposed to be.”

        “Namjoon, why is this bothering you? You don’t normally adhere to organized anything,” You said intertwining your fingers.

        He nodded his head before speaking. “I’ve never prayed about anything, but I needed solace, someone to listen. I was scared to tell you or the guys because I don’t believe in it, but I did it anyway.”

        “That’s what faith is. It’s throwing your hopes and fears up and believing someone will catch them. Be it fate, or karma… or God or Allah or Krishna… it’s hoping that something will move the chips in your favor, and knowing you’ll be okay if it doesn’t.” You answered, lightly squeezing his hand.

        “Do I owe anything?” He whispered.

        “No, that’s not how God works, at least in the evangelical sense. Just, be a great father, and an excellent husband, and your actions will show your thankfulness.” You said, moving his hand to rest on your belly, baby kicking excitedly as Namjoon’s hands held it gently.

        “That’s it?”

        “God doesn’t want for much, Namjoon.”

        He had spent the next six weeks studying books on organized religion, alternating between writing lyrics for BTS, unpacking the idea of GOD, and preparing for the baby. He read every parenting book, went to every class and watched birth video after birth video. He took to your body like the gentiles took to John the Baptist, following its every inkling, tending to it with care. He prepared baths and scheduled massages. He gingerly placed lotion on your growing belly, and proceeded to rub natural remedies on your cervix, anything to make your eventual labor smoother. He kneaded your growing breasts and never hesitated to help you tie your shoes. God had smote the Egyptians for worshipping their golden calf, and here Namjoon was, on his knees, singing exaltations to your growing form.

        The third and fourth time Namjoon prayed was when your water broke, and with it came an excessive amount of blood. You had rushed to the hospital and were diagnosed with late term placenta previa, a condition they should’ve caught earlier. Upon examination, you were rushed into a C-Section, and as he sat clutching your hand, tears streaming down your faces, Namjoon braced himself for the worst possible outcome. He prayed diligently, every second you were in surgery, every moment he wasn’t whispering to you or kissing your hair, he prayed.

God, Jesus, Allah, anyone… Please let my wife be safe. Please do not take her or our baby away from me. Please let us live our lives together. Please let them be okay, please, please, please.

      He offered up penance, a term he’d learned reading about the evolution of the Catholic church. He’d offered up his career, his bandmates, his money, his time. Anything he could trade to keep you and your baby.

      Namjoon had thought he’d heard a gospel chorus whenever he saw your bump or felt the baby kick. It wasn’t until his child took its first breath and let out a cry, that Namjoon realized the crescendo of expectation, fear, relief and hope raking through his brain was the angels, singing the Halleluiah Chorus, proclaiming the birth of the savior. He could see it, you Mary, the unassuming mother of the Christ child, him Joseph, a lowly craftsman, the doctors, the shepherds, guiding life into the world.

      As your tears turned to joy, Namjoon muttered to himself, “Unto you a child is given.”  

      It was past midnight when Namjoon finally had a minute to breathe. He held your new baby securely in his arms and glanced at your peacefully sleeping form. The past 48 hours had been a whirlwind. You were recovering from a C-Section and unable to lift or move much. On the one hand, you were relieved. You were emotionally exhausted from a traumatic labor, and physically exhausted from undergoing a major operation. Bed rest was welcomed as your body began to heal, from the nine months it had spent growing life, and as your hormones began to fall and rebalance. On the other, you wanted to spend every second staring at your child, guessing what they’d be like, wondering if their eyes were shaped like your husband’s or yours. Smelling their head for that new baby, fresh on the planet scent, and memorizing every feature.

      Namjoon was grateful, it gave him time to spend with your child, knees deep in fatherhood. He could carry your child everywhere, sing to it, love it, create a strong bond before he would eventually be pulled to tour. He was savoring every diaper, every midnight feed, every coo and cry. He couldn’t imagine life before your child was born, and he wanted to cherish every millisecond he had with you both.  

      He hummed to your baby quietly and again glanced at you, your milk had slowly started to come in and leak onto your shirt, or rather, a tour shirt of Namjoon’s that you’d kept every time he left home. He remembered the day you fought over him not having a t-shirt in your size and been pleasantly surprised when he had found this one in some drawer. Over the years it had become your comfort object. You kept it at his place indefinitely, and once you’d moved in together, had insisted he wear it before he went on tour to capture his musk. What had started as an argument over insecurities had blossomed into one of your favorite traditions.

[imagine-loki]

The Naughty Poltergeist

TITLE :The Naughty Poltergeist

CHAPTER: #1 of ?

AUTHOR'S: lokilover9 & velvetzybanshee

RATING: M

NOTES: This one shot is based on Loki having paid penance for ruining Thor's coronation. He never fell from the bifrost, nor attacked earth and is now free. Not to discount his true history, we just thought he deserved some happy. As for Felipe, he's based on the Spanish character Agador Spartacus, from the movie  The Birdcage and speaks in broken english. 

EXTRAS: Madre = mother  niña = girlfriend  panocha = pussy

Original Imagine  

Imagine thinking your new house is haunted. No one knows Loki lives there because he's always invisible and conjures furniture as needed. Disgruntled by your presence, he behaves like a poltergeist until one day you've had enough."I'm not leaving! Show yourself dammit!" Nothing happens for days and you think he's gone. Then while giving friends a tour, you find him naked on your bed drinking whiskey. "Cheers, darling. You did say show myself." Only you can see him and he follows you around like that for the remainder of their visit.

Loki was content residing on Midgard. With Thor King of Asgard remaining heavily influenced by Odin, he felt displaced as ever and decided to travel abroad. It was aloud providing he didn't hide from Heimdall and returned were the realm threatened, but that didn't mean he behaved. Midgard's continents teamed with beautiful maidens and Loki spent months at a time seducing them across the globe. Yet an introvert by nature, the constant socializing became exhausting. He needed intervals of solitude to rejuvenate his mind and cock. Indecisive of where, he conjured a world map, closed his eyes and randomly chose a location. 

First attempt. "A Frost Giant in the Amazon? I think not." 

Second. "Middle of the Bermuda Triangle? Know enough aliens already, thank you." 

Third. "Inside and active volcano? Fenrir's arsehole." He scoffed. 

Fourth. "Very well. Maine it is." 

The god settled in a vacant Victorian evicting its two following buyers with  'ghostly' shenanigans. Yet to the king of this miniature palace's annoyance the next didn't frighten so easily. 

Alexis was proud having bought her own house after a long divorce. Closer to friends and hours from meddling family, she'd thought herself free of troubles until sensing the place haunted. While unpacking, items started going missing and resurfacing in different places like her keys, clothing and once her vibrator after an evening of ménage à moi, disturbingly appeared in her dishwasher the next morning. Doors would slam, electricity short circuited, faucets unexpectedly ran, but most disconcerting was a voice randomly whispering 'mine' into her ear. Whether in the shower, her yard, doorways, the ghost didn't care. Alexis burned sage, had the house blessed, held a seance with a local paranormal group, but nothing helped. When returning after a long day at work to find half the main floor repacked, she angrily shouted into the air. 

"Ha ha, trickster! You don't scare me and I am 'not' leaving!" She held up a large envelope. "This is 'my' crib and here's the deed to prove it. Show yourself dammit!" Nothing happened so she put everything back, showered, grabbed her vibrator and stormed into the upstairs corridor. "And one more thing! See this? Touch it again and I'll summon your ass with a ouija board and douse you in holy water!" 

Loki inwardly chuckled. 'I'll be sure to bring a towel.' When she fell asleep reading in bed, he snuck a peek at what had intrigued her. 'Smutty fanfiction? Tisk, darling. Who could your heartthrob be? The name sounded familiar so he googled it. 'Ah, the actor from Crimson Peak. Good movie, but I'm much better looking. 'A wicked grin curled his lips when she moaned Tom's name. 'Maybe I need to play a little 'dirtier.'

With the next several days uneventful, Alexis thought she'd frightened the ghost off when in reality he was buying time. Since moving her in friends offered extra hands in their free time, but it was her befriended neighbor, a single gay man with a flamboyant, funloving personality who'd helped the most. They met one afternoon when she peered over his fence to complain about blaring Salsa music as he hosted a pool party. Felipe was sunbathing in a yellow thong, wearing sunglasses with enough bling to impress Liberace and choked on a shot of tequila when she whipped a pebble at his head. He invited her over with a promise to adorn shorts, they hit it off and became besties. 

Alexis planned to have other friends over for dinner one month after moving in, but with all the goings on had postponed twice. Now with a set date, Felipe was invited too and asked what she planned to cook.

"Who said anything about cooking? I suck at it Amigo and prefer no one hurling on my lawn." 

She waved a take out menu and he dramatically gasped. "Chinese food for eight people? Where you gonna put up you blow job booth to pay the mortgage after?"

Alexis smirked. "You're such a slut, Felipe."

He shrugged. "Happy whoopie stick makes a happy me."

"I think I've forgotten what they look like." 

"I show you mine, but no touchy touchy." She laughed, knowing he was kidding. "Too long without sex causes brain damage, niña. How long its been for you?" 

"Since my ex and I separated nineteen months ago."

"Ay dios mio. I lend you my Dustbuster for the cobwebs down there."

"Not funny, Felipe." 

"See. Abstinence makes everyone bitchy. My sister Maritza too. She was happy single before becoming a nun. Now she's Oscar the grouch with eyes like the chucky doll."

"How come you can pronounce words like 'abstinence' and 'cock' so well yet not others?" Alexis teased.

"Don't make me spank you. Come, we go shopping."

"For what?"

"I help you cook. We stay home and talk about cock, mine will curse me in Spanish. He's lonely too."

Alexis slipped on footwear. 

"Why you wearing those?" Asked Felipe.

"What's wrong with flip flops?" 

He stepped onto the porch. "You need something sexier, like bitch boots."

"It's ninety degrees in the shade today."

"So?"

Loki sighed when the door closed, relieved for some peace. He thought Felipe annoying enough as a neighbor yet worse as a guest who never stopped talking. So much so, he'd pondered concocting a tongue numbing spell, sneaking into his house and applying a heavy dose while he slept. But knowing his flair for drama, he'd run panicked to Alexis in the Boo from Monsters Inc. robe worn onto his deck every morning, carrying a note pleading to stay and until recovering, would hysterically sob each time he couldn't sing along to one of the show tunes on his phone. Loki opted to tolerate him for now. He'd be gone once Alexis left. 

The day of feasting came and while she handled finishing touches around the house, Felipe prepared guacamole dip and ingredients for fajitas while mixing margaritas. Hearing music, Alexis snuck to the kitchen and started recording him singing to Bad Girl, by Donna Summer while dancing like a hussy. 

"Toot toot, hey, beep beep

Toot toot, hey, beep beep

Hey mister, have you got a dime?

Hey mister, do you want to spend some time, ooh yeah

I got what you want, you got what I need

I’ll be your baby, come and spend it on me…"

He startled when noticing her.  "Girlfrien', you post that on social media, I kill you."

Alexis propped her phone on the counter and joined in wildly shaking her chest. 

Felipe tried the same. "No fair. I need big titties like yours to jiggle. Next time I bring tangerines and a bra."

Loki secretly watched on. 'Fucknuts.'

The three couples soon arrived. One, old neighbors of Alexis, Blake and Deidre, the others, her friends, Sage, Lisa and their newest flames Colby and Grant. She started a tour on the main floor then the upper leaving her bedroom for last. Excited to show it off, she was already opening the door as they shuffled out of the second.

"And this is my creme de la...eep!" She quietly squeaked once inside.

The resident spookster sat perched against her headboard sporting only what the Norn's delivered him to the universe in and winked pouring himself a whiskey. "You did say show myself, yes?"

She hurried out, slammed the door and her friends froze on approach. "Erm..wouldn't ya know I forgot to make my bed. Anyone for a drink?" 

Alexis passed them for the stairs and cringed when Deidre spoke. She was nice enough, but sometimes persistent when it wasn't welcome. "Nonsense, friends don't care. Right everyone?" 

Alexis continued down. "Enter at your risk then." 

Felipe watched her rush by into the pantry, close the door, followed and closed it too. "What you are doing?" 

"I can't go back out there."

"Why?" 

"He's upstairs naked on my bed." She anxiously whispered. 

"Which boyfriend? I take up the wooden spoon."

"No, the fucking ghost!" 

"It's a man? Is he hot and what do I tell your peeps? You afraid to come out of the closet?"

"Felipe!" 

"Sorry, it's the margaritas."

"I thought you the one person who believed my stories."

He eyed her sympathetically. "I do. You want I go bribe him to leave with a mcsqeezy?"

"Will you be serious? Ghosts aren't supposed to be naked. One look at him and everyone will think I invited them for an orgy." 

Blake and Grant came down first catching bits of their conversation and quietly conversed. 

"Can't believe she's still imagining this ghost." Blake wise cracked. "I always told Deidre she had a screw loose."

"Nah." Said Grant. "Lexi's a smart cookie. Sounds more like she needs a man. There's one inside with her. Maybe they'll shag, knock some shit off shelves." 

Felipe stuck his head out the door. "You not so quiet, cumquats. I gay. You want I show you my jolly green giant and shag 'you' inside against the creamed corn?"

Loki rubbed the back of his neck. 'I sacrificed prowling beaches of the French Riviera for this?'

Hearing the ladies coming, Alexis approached Blake and quietly inquired. "Still peeing in your wife's pond at night, murdering her koy? I'd see you through my bedroom blinds. Who's a few cans short of a six pack?" 

"Oooh snap." Said Felipe. 

Grant nudged the arse. "Let's chill in the dining room. There's a makeshift bar and appetizers."

The ladies entered the kitchen. "Who's a nincompoop?" Asked Deidre.

Felipe almost answered but pursed his lips together when Alexis loudly cleared her throat. "You know, just my ex."

"He sure is, honey." 

"Your bed's made, girl." Said Sage. "The room looks great." 

They all agreed passing through while thirty year old Lisa's younger boyfriend lingered. "Pretty awesome digs ya got here."

"Thanks." Replied Alexis.

Colby slid his hands into his pockets. "Soo..Lisa says you think it's haunted."

"Yep."

He spaced out for a second, staring at the floor. "I once thought a bat in our house was my dead uncle Howie haunting my parents for selling his mannequin of Vlad the Impaler. But hey, sometimes weird shit happens when you're stoned right?" Alexis and Felipe were saved when Lisa called him. "She misses me already. Laters." 

"He looks fresh from his madres panocha." Commented Felipe.

"That's the way Lisa likes them. Says the younger they are, the easier it is to train them."

Loki rolled his eyes. 'Age is irrelevant.'

Felipe feigned fright by playfully biting his nails. "She bad. Maybe Colby wear a leash and bark like a good doggy for her?" He goofily imitated one in a deep voice. "Woof, woof..woof. Or maybe he sound like an angry chihuahua?"

Alexis smirked. "I have my own problems. A streaking phantom who now makes unexpected appearances."

Felipe gave her a margarita. "Cheers. These make everything better." 

Alexis gulped down the beverage as he watched with raised brows. "Thanks. Next time that streaker appears, I'll just ignore him."

"Next time I give you smaller glass. Go enjoy you friends, niña"

She gave a thumbs up on her way out. "I got this. Easy peasy right?"

Loki mischievously grinned. 'Darling, I'm just getting started.

[markonasurface]

20/50 - “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

Fandom: All for the Game/The Foxhole Court Characters/pairings: Jean, Jeremy/jerejean Summary: Jean and Jeremy tag along on the Foxes’ spring break trip. A/N: This has taken me too long to finish. I think I started it two years ago. I almost forgot to use the quote prompt.

Warnings: implied past abuse

“Kevin invited you to the Foxes’ spring break trip?” Jean asked, eyebrows high.

Jeremy barely glanced up from the text he was studying. “Mm.”

“Are you going?” Jean pressed.

“Are you?” Jeremy snapped.

Jean flinched and Jeremy’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry.” He finally put his studying materials down and turned to face Jean. “I didn’t mean to snap. I just - last semester, you know?”

“Yes,” Jean said, even though he didn’t. He felt the heat in his cheeks and internally cursed himself for not being able to control his reactions. Riko used to love to make him flinch. It was at one point worth the beatings for not giving him the satisfactory.

“So, are you going?” Jeremy asked, back to his normal self if a bit exhausted.

He bit the inside of his cheek and stayed completely still. It was hard being around Kevin but it might be nice. Kevin did whatever Riko told him to do but Kevin wasn’t cruel. He had learned from his therapist that he didn’t miss Evermore; he missed the familiarity of it. Kevin could give him a bit of what he thought to be normalcy.

“Jean?” Jeremy said quietly, patiently.

Jean looked up to meet his eyes. “I - yes.”

“You’ll have to give Kevin my regards,” Jeremy said and turned back to his text.

“You aren’t going?” Jean didn’t know if he was relieved.

“I should really study,” Jeremy sighed.

Their bedroom door opened and Jean jumped.

“Y’all left your door unlocked.” Laila fell onto Jeremy’s bed. “And you’re going to spend your last spring break studying? Come on, Jer.”

“Fuck off, Laila,” he said.

She nudged his chair with her foot. “I bet those Foxes get fucking crazy. I wish I’d been invited.”

“Take my invitation.”

Laila took a loud breath. “Mama Alvarez would have a cow if we bailed on her family trip.”

“If you don’t come they’ll probably stick me in a room with Hemmick,” Jean said.

“You could use the brea-eak,” she sang. “Also, see if they’ve picked up any new moves for finals.”

“Laila.”

She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m kidding. Go. Have fun. Or you’ll burn yourself out and have to come back in the fall.”

Day 1

“An island? Seriously?” Thea stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

Kevin shrugged.

“I thought we were just flying somewhere tropical,” Jeremy added.

“Why are you all looking at me?” Allison demanded. “Neil’s the one who paid for this trip.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Neil said. “I recently came into some money.”

Jeremy sighed. “Right. N.B.D. I just rented an island.”

“Follow me.” A man in khakis and a polo shirt motioned for them. He had introduced himself as Frank as they boarded the small plane that brought them to their rented island.

It was a short walk through some trees and a large house came into view. There were gasps and one of the freshmen from the team said, “No fucking way.”

“Dude, how much did this cost?” Matt asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Neil said, leading the way through the gate.

They walked past the pool and its fountains, up some stairs and through double doors. As they all stood in the foyer,  Frank smiled and said, “Right. Everything’s stocked. I’ll be back at the end of the week. If you need anything, call the number on the refrigerator.”

Neil handed the man a cash tip and thanked him.

Allison looked around at everyone. “There are ten rooms. Neil gets first pick, losers.”

“You mean Andrew,” Jack mocked.

It was quiet for a moment then at once everyone raced to find a room. Jean looked at Jeremy and said, “They’re fucking crazy.”

Jeremy laughed as they heard Dan yell, “I’m your damn captain!”

They followed the shouting and as they turned a corner Jeremy ran into Renee. They both apologized, looking like literal sunshine and Jean bit his lip.

“They’re the guests.” Allison was staring down one of her teammates. “They get the room next to ours.”

Jeremy realized she was talking about them and opened his mouth. Renee shook her head, a warning in her eyes. Someone stomped by and Allison grinned.

“Welcome to the third nicest - who am I kidding? - the fourth nicest room on this island!” She gestured grandly. “And that’s saying something.”

Nicky popped his head in. “Fifth nicest. Andrew and Neil gave up the first nicest so they have the second nicest, Dan and Matt have the third nicest, and you have the fourth nicest.”

Before Allison could demand to know who got the glass room on top if it wasn’t Dan and Matt, Nicky ran off.

Jeremy looked as if he suddenly remembered something. “Did you two wanna share? I can room with Nicky or whoever.”

Allison cackled. She left the room.

“We’re not -” Jean started.

“We were never dating,” Renee said.

Jeremy’s eyes were wide. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed and uh, forget I said anything.”

Renee smiled kindly and backed out of the room. Jeremy looked at Jean who was staring at the one bed in the middle of the room.

“I can still room with Nicky if you’re not comfortable sharing,” he said.

Jean swallowed. “It’s fine.” He managed a small smile and said, “We share every other day of the year.”

After they unpacked, everyone seemed to congregate by the pool. Nicky and Andrew were situated behind the bar and Neil was perched on top, but everyone else was already swimming.

Jean glanced around nervously. Since joining the Trojans, he’d become a lot more self-conscious about the state of his body.

“You can leave your shirt on.” The voice startled him and he looked up at Neil, then glanced to see if Jeremy had heard as well. Then he realized Neil was speaking in his native tongue. “But nobody cares.”

Andrew spoke. “Ignore the freshmen. They’re idiots.”

“Where’s Kevin?” Jeremy asked, coming to sit at the bar.

“Fucking Thea,” a girl said, joining them. “I saw her take his shirt off but then they moved away from the glass.”

Aaron grabbed a tray of drinks from Nicky and sneered, “Do you have to be such a perve, Sheena?”

She stuck her tongue out at him, snagging a drink and flicking her wet hair at him.

“Like, Andrew said,” Nicky stated. “The freshmen are idiots.”

He mimicked Sheena’s face, nose scrunched and eyes narrowed, then asked, “What can I make for you?”

“Something that’ll make me forget I have my last midterm when we get back,” Jeremy grimaced. “Who gives a midterm after spring break?”

“I got just the drink for you.”

The sound of the blender going again cut off conversation. Sheena left to play chicken with her friends and Renee called Jean over.

“Don’t break anything!” Dan called from where she was laying out with Allison and Renee as Jean joined them.

“Here you go.” Nicky handed him a glass.

Jeremy held the drink up and studied it. “Are those silver stars?”

“Edible silver stars.”

Aaron came back with a tray in one hand and a girl’s hand in the other and said, “Nicky has to make everything gay.”

The girl hit his arm lightly with the back of her hand. She looked at Jeremy and held out a hand. “Katelyn.”

“Jeremy,” Jeremy said and shook.

“I made you both the same,” Nicky said, handing two more glasses over the bar.

“On three?” Katelyn suggested. “One. Two. Three.”

Everyone who had a drink took a large sip and more than one of them sputtered. “What the fuck is this?” Aaron gasped. “Did you just add ice and stars?”

Nicky shrugged. “Make your own damn drinks if you don’t like it.” He hopped over the bar and ran for the pool.

“You’re drinking this?” Aaron asked in disbelief and Jeremy turned to see Neil gulping it down.

After one large sip, Jeremy was already starting to feel warm. He took another sip, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. When he opened them he saw Renee running her hand down Jean’s bare back. How many times had Jeremy wanted to do the same?

He shook his head. He was such a lightweight. He’d never been one to party hard but he knew how to hold his liquor. The last year he’d spent more time studying and less and less time drinking and his tolerance was down. Clearly.

Day 2

By the second night, Jeremy was starting to realize the Foxes weren’t so different from any other college sports team if you took away the tragic backstories. Yeah, Jeremy would stick out if they all sat around and compared histories but - surprise, surprise - there wasn’t much talk about that.

Allison banned any talk of Exy and if she ever saw Neil and Kevin together she’d cock a brow and put her hands on her hips. Kevin would flip her off and she’d leave with a, “Fuck you. There are rules for a reason.”

It was making him miss his own team - the way they all fit together even when they shouldn’t.

Jean was there, but if anything he was part of the Kevin/Thea/Jean Former Ravens group or the Kevin-Neil-Jean-I-Was-Abused-By-Riko-Moriyama-and-Marked-For-His-Perfect-Court group.

He was different from a year ago when he’d first joined the Trojans but he still had his rough edges and hangups. And Jeremy saw it all.

Whether someone tapped his arm lightly without warning, or when he was flinching awake from a nightmare, Jeremy was there, trying to think of a way to calm Jean down without overstepping.

Jeremy had promised Laila he’d enjoy his spring break and be involved in all the fun things the Foxes did. Jeremy didn’t break promises. That’s why it was two in the morning and he was just starting to work on a study guide problem he’d left at five AM yesterday morning.

He groaned. Shots before homework wasn’t working for him.

“Jer,” Jean said, voice hoarse. “Come to bed.”

In his sluggish alcohol influenced state of mind, he almost thought Jean was asking him to come to his bed. His face flushed as he thought, What if Jean could read my mind and saw that?

He cleared his throat. “Soon. I’ll go to bed soon. I just need to finish at least three problems first.” Who was he kidding? He’d be lucky if he finished one.

“Okay,” Jean breathed, turning over and promptly falling back to sleep.

That was something that had surprised Jeremy. The way Jean could just sleep. He had expected his distrust to keep him awake at night. He guessed when you were tortured and worked to the bone, you had to take the sleep where you could get it.

Jean looked so cozy and peaceful, Jeremy wanted to be cozy and peaceful. He made the mistake of putting his head down on the desk.

He bolted awake when tentative fingers touched his arm.

Day 3

Jean flinched and Jeremy took a deep breath. “Sorry, sorry.”

“The others are going for a hike,” Jean said quietly though he offered a smile. “Apparently there’s a waterfall. Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeremy responded, yawning and stretching. When he looked back at Jean, Jean quickly averted his eyes.

“They’re meeting by the pool.”

Jean hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Jeremy stretched as he stood. There was a crick in his neck that was making him regret last night’s choices.

He picked up a shirt off the floor and sniffed it. What did it matter? They were gonna get sweaty on their hike. He tried to shove away the thought of what would Jean think and changed into the shirt.

“Jer-bear!” Nicky greeted him as he stepped outside.

He squinted at the sun. It was only eight in the morning but it was already too hot. Jeremy couldn’t wait to get to the waterfall.

As they approached the start of the trail, two figures raced down the hill toward them. Thea pushed Kevin and Kevin shouted, “Hey!”

The two of them passed the sign indicating which way to go around roughly the same time and immediately Jean said, “Thea.”

“No one asked,” Kevin said, panting, but he didn’t look upset. “Besides, she cheated.”

“Prove it,” Thea said, hands behind her head as she gulped air. 

“Rematch.”

Nicky said, “Neil would beat you both.”

“With those little legs?” Thea looked skeptical.

“Show ‘em, Neil.”

Neil shook his head. “I don’t feel like it.” He paused and looked at Andrew. “I don’t run anymore.”

The way he said it gave the words weight and Jeremy felt like he was missing something. Neil and Andrew’s teammates groaned and Andrew looked unimpressed.

“That was really sweet, Neil,” Matt said.

Neil winked at Matt and Andrew muttered something that had him grinning widely.

“If we’re done with the cheesefest ...” Allison stomped past everyone.

The waterfall was breathtaking. Jeremy couldn’t believe something could be so untouched by man.

“What took you guys so long?” Thea called as she dunked Neil under the water.

Despite what he’d said about not running anymore, Neil couldn’t resist Thea’s challenge and they’d run ahead of the group with Kevin.

As some of the others dived in, Jeremy’s eyes searched for Jean. He was leaning down so Renee could rub some sunscreen on his face. Jeremy tried to stuff down the jealousy bubbling in his chest.

This wasn’t him. He didn’t get jealous. Certainly not of one the nicest humans to ever exist touching his teammate who clearly didn’t mind. He was about to turn away when Jean pulled his shirt over his head.

And how could he have such negative feelings when Jean was so obviously enjoying his spring break? After the first day, Jean didn’t even hesitate in stripping down and letting the others see him shirtless. As his roommate, of course Jeremy had seen him without a shirt, but it had been months before his first reaction wasn’t to cover up his scars. In the locker rooms, he always changed as quickly as possible and usually with his locker open.

Here, with people who had trauma, too, and who didn’t bat an eye when Jean took his shirt off, he was able to stop thinking about it. It made Jeremy sad that he wasn’t able to give Jean that around their team.

Jean turned around and Jeremy tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring. When he stood in front of him, he asked, “You okay, Jer?”

Jeremy swallowed once. He felt his cheeks get hot but hoped his sunburn hid his blush. “Yeah, just, um, enjoying the view.” He inwardly groaned. Jean had seen him staring at him. He scratched his cheek.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Jean said. He clearly meant the trees and the water. Jeremy was both relieved and disappointed. “See you down there?”

“Yeah.”

Day 4

Jeremy put on his noise canceling headphones and opened his textbook. He had to get this reading done. He wouldn’t allow any more distractions until he finished.

Not even a sleepy looking Jean poking his head into their shared room.

He removed his headphones and gave him a questioning look.

“We’re putting on a movie. Wanna join?”

Jeremy sighed. “Can’t. I should have finished this chapter two days ago.” Jean bit his lip, then he closed the door. “What are you -?” He sat on the bed.

“I don’t really like movies that much.”

It was a lie. Jeremy knew it was a lie, but he wasn’t going to argue. He remembered the look of confusion on his face the first time he heard Jeremy ask what movie the rest of the team would like to watch. He gave Jean a small smile before putting his headphones back on.

An hour later, Jeremy was lying beside Jean, who was dozing, his head on an open book. His head lolled to the side and pressed into Jeremy’s arm.

Jeremy froze and tried to keep his breathing even.

His eyes followed the line of Jean’s jaw. He liked this side of Jean’s face best. It wasn’t tattooed and it had less scars. He still liked the other side of Jean’s face - he liked his whole face - it was just easier to not think about the circumstances that brought him to his team when he could only see the right half of Jean’s face.

Day 6

“No studying tonight!” Allison yelled.

“But -”

“Jean told us you study every night after we go to bed,” she said. “It’s your last night. Enjoy it!”

Jeremy shot a look over to Jean at the bar who - was smiling? He shrugged at Jeremy before tipping back a shot.

Allison had made a list and passed it around to anyone who wasn’t a freshman. Any time one of the freshmen said or did something on her list, the others had to do a shot.

From the looks of things, Nicky, Dan, and Matt had gotten an early start on the game. Allison whispered, “Don’t worry if you can’t remember who’s who. Just drink when the rest of us do.”

Jeremy looked around at the team, then into the pool with its night lights on and glowing balls floating on the surface.

Renee came over and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one drowns.”

When one of the freshmen girls made a pervy remark about Kevin, Nicky handed out shots. When one of the boys copped a feel off the girl and she pretended to be offended, he handed out two shots to every person. When a couple of the freshmen started making out, he got three shots - one for the act and two for the couple.

Things and time started to blur and Jeremy had no idea how much time had passed. They’d all eventually moved into the large house to get warm. Kevin and Thea had disappeared a while ago as had Aaron, Katelyn, and a few of the freshmen. Now Neil and Andrew were heading upstairs.

The music was loud, the lights looked brighter, and Jean was laughing. It almost made Jeremy smile, but then he realized he was laughing at something Renee had said. He wrapped an arm around her and leaned down so she could whisper something in his ear.

Jeremy left.

It was too difficult to watch and he didn’t want to say or do anything to embarrass himself. Allison grabbed his arm in the hallway and said, “You better not be going off to study!”

“No!” he shouted back. “I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Once he made it to his room and shut the door, it seemed uncomfortably quiet. He flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

Jeremy was generally a positive person, but as he lay there, thoughts of Jean and Renee swirled around his mind. They said they weren’t dating. They said they’d never dated, but the whole week it was almost like they were a couple. They went everywhere together and partnered for every game.

He fell asleep, his mind seeped in jealousy and booze.

He woke up when Jean stumbled into the room, holding something in his hand. He vaguely registered music still pounding in the hallway.

“Hey, sorry,” Jean tried to whisper. “Everyone is asleep.”

“Okay?” Jeremy said.

“Renee made cookies.” He offered out his hand.

Jeremy might have sneered. “Of course she did. She’s amazing. She’s an amazing person. She’s an amazing goalie. I bet she’s an amazing girlfriend.” He was still drunk. It probably hadn’t been that long since he fell asleep.

Jean looked confused and timid. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jeremy muttered, suddenly aware of how he must’ve come across.

“Are you jealous of Renee?” he asked, lips quirking.

Jeremy sighed and fell back on his pillows. “What? No ...” He looked over at Jean. “Okay, fine.”

Jean stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed, looking over his shoulder at Jeremy. “Why?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, cheeks feeling hot.

“I’ve not been a good friend,” Jean said. “You’re just so friendly and easy going that I didn’t think you wanted me hanging around the whole week. And I figured Kevin would be taking up at least half your time.”

“That’s not - I mean -” Jeremy was at a loss for words.

“Then what is it?”

He threw an arm over his face, struggling to get a word out. 

“You guys are so close,” he finally said. “I guess I just want to be - close with you.”

“We’re roommates,” Jean said. “We are close. There’s no one I trust more.”

Jeremy sat up. “No, I’m gay.”

He shrugged. “Okay ... I figured -”

“I have these ... feelings ... for you ...” He knew his expression was pained and sad but he couldn’t help it. He had probably just ruined things between them.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Jean asked as Jeremy’s head lowered and he shrugged. “I think I have ... feelings for you, too.”

Jeremy’s mouth fell open. “Really?”

Jean shrugged again, feeling self-conscious. “Yes. It’s why I’ve been hanging out with Renee so much this week - to get her advice about you.”

“I really want to kiss you,” he said in a rush. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

Jean held his breath, then nodded. Jeremy moved closer. Jean blurted, “I just - um, I need to set clear boundaries and I need you to respect them.”

“Of course,” Jeremy breathed. He watched as he bit his lip, looking like there was more he wanted to say. “Hey, it’s okay. You can set all the boundaries you need.”

Jean took a shaky breath. “I need you to take things slow,” he said, voice quiet. “I need you to be patient and not get mad if I can’t do - if I can’t -”

“Hey, Jean, you don’t need to do anything, alright?” Jeremy said. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” He reached out to take Jean’s hand but Jean flinched.

“I’m sorry, I -”

Jeremy held up his hand this time and slowly moved to grab Jean’s hand so he had time to move away if he wanted to.

“I’ve never - I don’t mean to flinch. It’s not you.” He lay down next to Jeremy and stared at the ceiling. Their arms were pressed together from their shoulders to their fingertips and after a minute, it started to feel comfortable. “I’ve talked about you in therapy because I wasn’t sure about what my feelings meant.”

He took long pauses between sentences but Jeremy didn’t dare to interject.

“Nothing that ever happened in my life ever was consensual.” Hard swallow. “Until you and the Trojans. I don’t know if I’m gay, honestly. I’m still figuring things out. Feeling anything confuses me. You’re the only person who offers something to me and lets me choose to accept it.”

“You noticed?” Jeremy was shocked.

“Of course I noticed. I was confused - at first - but it’s become everything to me. If this is too complicated I understand ... but I hope - I don’t know.” He sighed, frustrated with himself and everything leading up to this point that was making him unable to trust his own feelings.

Jeremy bit his lip. “I’m here. You’re worth the wait, Jean. I want to be the one you can figure things out with.”

Jean sat up. “What if - what if I’m wrong about this?” His voice was breathy and when Jeremy met his eyes, they were wet.

“Then we’ll stop and we’ll continue being friends.”

“I don’t even know if I can try.” Every fear seemed to be coming to the front of his mind. “What if I’m wasting your time?”

Jeremy sat up. “I don’t care. Can I hold your hand again?” Jean nodded. “If after everything, you decide you’re not gay, or you’re not into me, it will all be fine. I could never hold it against you. I care about you and nothing will ever stop me from caring about you.”

Jean’s gaze on his face was intense but Jeremy tried to keep an open expression. He meant what he said and he needed Jean to know that everything would be okay.

“Can I kiss you?”

Jeremy felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Please.”

Day 7

As they sat on the boat that would take them back to the mainland Jeremy couldn’t help the smile on his face. Jean was next to him, arm pressed right against his.

He looked behind him to where Neil and Andrew sat, space between them but hands linked on the seat. Andrew was looking off in the distance.

Jeremy opened his mouth to ask Neil a question when Andrew’s head snapped in his direction. “It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“That smile on your face is making my hangover worse.”

Jean turned around. “Get used to it.”

1 Kevin/Thea 2 Neil/Andrew 3 Dan/Matt 4 Allison/Renee 5 Jean/Jeremy 6 Aaron/Katelyn 7 2 freshmen 8 2 freshmen 9 2 freshmen 10 Nicky

[kyloswarstars]

Come on! • Part 4 – „The Fight“

Peaky Blinders • Mini-Series

Vendetta had brought your family back to Small Heath for a while. As a Blinder you received orders from Tommy like everyone else did as well. Your current one: Keep eyes on Bonnie Gold. When you first heard those words you wouldn’t have dared to imagine this order would take a complete turn on you.

Pairing • Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Reader

Words • 2.3k

Come on! • masterlist

/////

The night before Bonnie’s big fight. You shouldn’t be nervous. Bonnie was well prepared. You were still nervous, couldn’t fall asleep while he was laying next to you, completely knocked out. You spent the night at yours, at Watery Lane, so it would be easier to leave tomorrow. Your brothers weren’t too fond of Bonnie sleeping over but you didn’t care – that was something they couldn’t prohibit.

Your fingertips were itching to repeat the thing that made you sleep. After last time you had kept John’s old shaving soap and the brush. Fuck it, you thought and crawled out of the bed as quiet as possible.

Grabbing the stuff and your knife, you left the room so Bonnie wouldn’t wake up and went downstairs into the kitchen.

This time it was even more satisfying. You had more experience with the blade on your skin and managed to not cut yourself. The short hair that had grown back was soon gone. When you washed away the loose hair over the sink, that had stuck to your skin, and let your fingers move over your bald head, it felt incredibly relieving.

You took a deep breath. The image of yourself in the window, illuminated only by the candle you had lit, was something you still not cared for yet. This time, though, with the relief came also a tiny smile. You felt comfortable and ready to go to sleep.

/////

Waking up to Bonnie’s fingers stroking your head was nothing unusual anymore. You still didn’t get completely used to it yet, though. Especially not with the clean shave. The skin was maybe still a bit sensitive but it didn’t lessen that you liked his touches.

„Good morning.“ He placed a kiss on your head and then another one on your lips.

„Are you ready for tonight?“

„As ready as someone can be.“

You didn’t doubt that.

The time rushed by once you got up. Everyone was excited for tonight. Your hair being gone once again didn’t even get acknowledged through all the chaotic hectic. And sooner than you had even been able to comprehend, you stood in the changing room at the boxing venue.

Aberama made sure to unpack every supportive and motivational phrase from his memory to cheer Bonnie on. It was hilariously adorable to see father and son anticipating the fight so much.

When the time was finally there, you started to wrap Bonnie’s hands with the bandages. Maine finally trusted you enough with it. Ever since the night under the stars, you had spent every possible free minute together. By now you two were able to communicate with only exchanging looks. Your eyes flickered up every other second while wrapping up his hands to see when you had to tie the bandages a little tighter or looser, depending on how it felt for Bonnie.

Just in time when you finished up your work, your brothers entered the changing room. You stepped aside into a corner and watched them with your arms crossed. Finn smiled at you.

Arthur was directing his words to Bonnie. „Bring out that fucking tiger, eh?“

And proudly prepared by his father, Bonnie was ready. „Tiger is already out.“

You noticed a short, weird glance being exchanged between Bonnie and Tommy. Then your brothers left satisfied and Bonnie turned to shadow boxing.

The time was there. Some Blinders, who would walk guard, came in and were immediately instructed by Aberama. Grabbing Bonnie’s black cape off the hook, you walked over to him and held it open so he could slip in. He turned around and you grabbed onto the golden collar to drag his face down to yours.

Sharing a rather breathless and deep kiss, Bonnie’s lips curled into a smile when you parted. „I can’t wait to celebrate with you later.“ Placing another kiss on your cheek, his lips lingered next to your ear. „And even if I don’t win this fight – which I will – I’m already a winner. After all, I won you over.“

„Stop that you lovebirds,“ Aberama shouted over from the entrance and gestured to come to him. „Get ready!“

Before you let Bonnie go ahead, you stopped him for a decent reply to his words. „If you take him out, I’ll promise to do the same to you later – just in a different way.“ You coaxed a smirk out of him. „Come on!“ Stepping aside, he walked over to his father.

Aberama and one of King Maine’s men led the way, followed by Bonnie in the middle, you behind him and Blinders after you.

The place was crowded and way too loud for your liking. The flow of the people pushed you right to the boxing ring where Goliath was already waiting with his companions.

You stayed at Aberama’s side. A quick look through the crowd showed you Arthur sat behind you, the girls in the first row of the other block. They were absolutely stunning tonight. Wearing super fancy dresses, hair all neat and makeup exquisitely applied.

Unlike them you wore your tailored suit. There had almost been a massacre for this suit back in the day. You returned home from your initial appointment to get your measurements taken. Tommy had asked if everything went alright, which it didn’t. They didn’t take your measurements for a suit since you were a woman. John had still been there, listened in on the conversation and it got his blood boiling immediately. Back then you had just become officially a Blinder and as one, you had asked your brothers for a suit, to fit the feeling. The massacre was prevented, due to a lot of death threats, and you got your suit.

Another glance through the crowd didn’t reveal where the fuck Tommy was but that didn’t matter anymore when the first round was opened.

Goliath immediately sent out some forceful punches, Bonnie just endured them. No blood was spilling yet. He made it out of the first round and Aberama immediately jumped up to ask him if everything was alright. You knew Bonnie was supposed to wait until the fourth round to knock Goliath out, so all you could do was wait.

During the first break Tommy finally showed up and sat between Arthur and you.

When Aberama came back to his seat, you locked eyes with Bonnie for a moment and nodded. He returned a single nod. He was alright.

In the second round Bonnie had to take considerably more blows causing the first blood on his face. He didn’t really fight back, just tried to hold up his defence, which he had worked on so hard, and waited just like you for the round to be over.

The third round was a little better. He risked more but suddenly Goliath’s fist hit right into Bonnie’s face, sending him to the floor. Aberama and you simultaneously jumped up and over to the ring.

Aberama was shouting his name to get his attention. „You okay?,“ he asked his son.

Bonnie propped himself up on his fists, looked at his father and winked at him. For a second, his eyes moved to yours and he flashed a smile. He got back up and continued the fight – or rather: got more beat up.

„Y/N!“ The girls were calling your name, waving you over to them. You didn’t want to divert your attention from Bonnie to them but they didn’t stop shouting your name so you went over.

„What’s up?,“ you greeted them, quickly placing a kiss on Ada’s cheek, she doing the same on yours. But all you got as an answer was chuckles and laughter.

Linda bent forward to grab your hand. „Y/N, my dear! You look so good tonight. You’re probably the best looking Blinder. That suit!“ She was laughing at her own words and you just stared at your sister.

„What the bloody hell is wrong with her?“

„Snow,“ was all Ada replied.

„Explains it.“

Seeing that there was not a serious topic as to why you were supposed to come over – other than your amazing suit of course – you turned back to the fight. 

You noticed two things: Arthur and Tommy weren’t there anymore and Bonnie was finally showing what he was really capable of. Rushing back to Aberama and getting infected by his cheering, you joined in with the shouting. Not many ‚Come on!’s left your mouth anymore, though, because Bonnie’s fists had sped up so fast, Goliath was flying to the floor and didn’t stand up anymore.

Bonnie’s left hook earned him the victory.

He broke into cheering and looked so damn happy when he put his fists in the air. Bonnie looked down, through the crowd, until his eyes found you. He beamed at you so brightly. The moment you wanted to get up to the ring, like Aberama did, a hand grabbed your shoulder and held you back. Tommy.

He dragged you close to him and whispered into your ear. „Arthur’s dead. Take Finn and Isiah and find the other man who’s been with Goliath. I shot one of them already.“

You stared at your brother in shock. How could another one of your brothers be dead? The black clouds were immediately reaching out for you but you stepped aside. You looked around, saw Polly walking over to Linda. You saw Bonnie up in the ring, trying to catch your eye but all you could do was stare right through him. You noticed how he wanted to exit the ring through the ropes to get to you, he probably sensed something wasn’t right, but he got dragged back by Aberama. And you dragged yourself forcefully out of the shock.

Nodding to Thomas, you hurried over to Finn and Isiah. „Come with me.“ They immediately followed you. You didn’t know if they did because out of the three of you it had always been you leading. Or if they obeyed your order because they might have noticed you tried to suppress any rising emotions. You didn’t care.

Fighting your way through the cheering crowd, you waited to reach the entrance area before telling them.

„Arthur is dead.“

Both of them were looking at you like you must’ve looked at Tommy a minute ago. But you couldn’t consider Finn’s feelings right now, as hard as it was. „We have to find one of the men that was with Goliath.“

Taking the lead again, you guided them to the changing rooms. And ran right into the guy you were searching for in the hallway.

Without any hesitation you stormed up to him and hit him right in the face. He stumbled, fell to the ground and tried to sit up but stopped in his motions. He looked right into the barrel of your gun, you had drawn from your holster.

„Search him, Isiah,“ you ordered, so he did. Finn next to you aimed his gun as well, with some shaky hands.

Just when Isiah found something in the pockets and pulled it out, Tommy came rushing down the hallway. Isiah told him he found a wire but your brother didn’t even acknowledge it. He furiously beat and kicked down to the praying man to your feet. He repeated it for what seemed to take forever and you couldn’t blame him.

When he let go off him, he expected Finn to continue. He hesitated but managed to halfheartedly punch down to the guy with Isiah’s encouragement.

„Take his eyes, Finn.“ Tommy’s order was predictable, given you were the Peaky fucking Blinders. „Do it for Arthur.“ But you saw your little twin brother, saw how much he didn’t want to do that, how it was just not in his nature.

„TAKE HIS FUCKING EYES,“ Tom screamed.

All those feelings inside of you were threatening to rip away the little sanity you were still holding onto. The black clouds were lurking behind your back and all you could think of was John and Arthur. Them being gone. And your twin brother who was still there. You were the older one of the two of you, always took the blame if he messed up something. Always sorted out his problems. And you didn’t want him to suffer. Not now, not ever.

You would sort it out with Tommy later but for now… all you cared about was protecting one of the brothers you had still left, Finn – even though that meant disrespecting Tommy’s order.

You pushed Finn away, forced him behind you, grabbed your cap and knelt down before someone could stop you. Once again, you took a pair of eyes.

Tommy didn’t say a word, he just left. Seeing the business was done here, you went after him. Fighting your way back through the crowd, you reached the ring as Tom got up and fired two shots of his gun. He ordered to close the doors so no-one could leave. He really fucking aimed the gun at the crowd. And shot again.

You saw Bonnie being pushed into the far right corner of the boxing ring.

„My brother is dead.“ Tommy claimed the hall as if it was his. Each of his words were like knives stabbing into your chest. „Do you hear me? My brother… IS DEAD.“ His screaming was deafening. And it also unblocked the wall you had quickly built to do what had to be done.

With Tommy’s last words Bonnie found your eyes. And you… you just sank into yourself, barely making it to a chair, when the shock of losing another one of your siblings hit you with full force.

[luxekook]

the mirror | vmin

⇥ pairing: demon!jimin x reader x demon!taehyung

⇥ genre: smut, fluff, slight horror/thriller (?)

⇥ summary: demon!vmin want to make the reader theirs

⇥ word count: 2.4k

⇥ warnings: nc17, cursing, dirty talk, varying levels of smut, talk of demons and possession, general crack!fic

MAJOR DISCLAIMER: This is based on an actual dream I had and pretty much defies all logic. Lol, happy (early) Halloween!

© lustjoon. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

My new apartment currently resembled the aftermath of a B and E. Moving boxes were strewn everywhere, various pieces of Ikea furniture were left half assembled, and I was panicking. Asking for help had never been an issue for me before – I wasn’t much of a prideful person.

However, asking for help from my best friends Taehyung and Jimin had been harder than forcing myself to go to the gym. My reluctance to ask them over wasn’t that I didn’t like them. In fact, I had the opposite problem.

I loved them, and those feelings were so fucking confusing.

It wasn’t that I was too much of a little bitch to tell either of them how I felt; it was that I was too much of a little bitch to tell them both how I felt.

I loved Jimin. And I loved Taehyung. Equally.

You don’t even know how many hours I spent scouring the internet for any semblance of an explanation for how I felt.

Basically, I came to a couple conclusions:

1) I was into polyamory:

Polyamory is the practice of, or desire for, intimate relationships with more than one partner, with the consent of all partners involved. It has been described as "consensual, ethical, and responsible non-monogamy".

2) Some pretty badass women like Olive Byrne were polyamorous:

Olive Byrne was a polyamorous life partner of William and Elizabeth Marston and has been credited as an inspiration for Wonder Woman.

And now I was at an impasse – tell the boys and potentially ruin our friendship or never take the chance and stay firmly in the friend-zone.

Basically, I had chosen to do neither and avoid them for the past couple weeks like a fucking coward instead.

The doorbell sounded and shook me from my mini pity party. Time to face the music, I thought as I plastered a forced smile on my face. I opened the door and immediately was pulled into a hug by Jimin.

He spun me around, squeezing me tightly, “I missed you so fucking much, (y/n)!” My forced smile turned real as I felt his warmth around me.

“Stop hogging her, Jimin,” Taehyung said derisively as he stretched his arms out to me.

I wiggled out of Jimin’s hold and into Taehyung’s arms. He smelled like autumn – a heady mix of wood, spice and musk.

I noticed Jimin pouting over Taehyung’s shoulder and I couldn’t help but grin.

Reluctantly extracting myself from Taehyung’s hold, I was still smiling, “Thanks for coming over to help me. I’ve barely made a dent unpacking.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Jimin threw an arm around my shoulders – crushing both my neck and my feelings – while he and Taehyung shared a furtive glance, “Besides, we haven’t seen you for ages.”

“Right,” I mumbled and tried to shake it off the friend-zone comment, “Okay, well I think it’s best we start with the bedroom because I cannot sleep on an air mattress for a fourth night.”

A pregnant pause crackling with tension arose. My eyes darted between the boys who seemed to be having one of their infuriatingly cryptic telepathic conversations.

“You’ve been sleeping on an air mattress this whole time?”

Uh-oh. I knew Taehyung’s angry voice and he just used it.

“Yes…” I backed up as I noticed the boys had suddenly moved all up in my space.

“And you didn’t tell us because…”

Yup, there was Jimin’s angry voice. I was screwed. “Because I didn’t think it was a big deal?” I responded, confused as to why they were making such a fuss over a damn air mattress.

“Not a big deal,” Taehyung hissed and stalked off towards my bedroom, “I can’t do it, Jimin. Talk to her.”

I stared open-mouthed at Taehyung’s back as he exited the living room and made his way towards my room at the end of the hall. What the hell was going on here?

“What the hell is going on here?”

Jimin ignored my perfectly valid question, “You don’t think your health is a big deal? You shouldn’t be sleeping on an air mattress when there are perfectly good beds at me and Tae’s.”

“My health? It’s a fricking air mattress, not a pile of sticks, Jimin! Last time I checked, air mattresses were made for sleeping!”

He continued to ignore me, “You need to take care of yourself, (y/n).”

“You’re not my fucking father or boyfriend, Jimin. I don’t need a lecture.”

“Believe me, I know,” Jimin said darkly and turned away from me, heading in the direction Taehyung disappeared to. And I swore I heard him mutter, “Fuck a lecture, she needs a spanking.”

I stay rooted in my place against the wall and wondered what the actual fuck just happened.

Taehyung calling my name jolted me out of my reverie, “(y/n)? What’s this?”

“What’s what?” I asked, heading towards my room to see what he was asking about.

Oh god, what if he found my unopened stash of condoms?

My speed increased tenfold as I practically ran down the hall. Entering my room, I saw Taehyung staring down at a weird-looking mirror I hadn’t seen before.

“Where did you find that?” I question as Taehyung continues to look down at the mirror as if in a trance.

“Bro? You good?” Jimin asked as we exchanged a concerned look.

Taehyung slowly lifted his head up – his eyes closed; his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Never better,” his answering voice sent shivers down my spine. I opened my mouth to question his suddenly deepened tone when Taehyung opened his eyes.

Gone were the hazel eyes I loved so much and gone were any traces of light or reflection.

There was only darkness.

“Taehyung, what the fuck?” Jimin yelled and pulled me behind him.

“What?” Taehyung cocked his head slowly to the side, “What’s wrong?”

I gaped at Taehyung, “Your eyes…”

“…They’re black,” Jimin finished for me.

Tae’s answering grin was almost as alarming as his fucking black eyes as he peered into the strange mirror again, “Well, what do you know… they are.”

“Why aren’t you freaking the fuck out, Tae?” Jimin continued to shout at him as he moved to grab the mirror from him, “What the fuck is this shit?”

“Here,” Taehyung thrusted the mirror at Jimin, “Look.”

Jimin snatched the mirror from Taehyung and inspected the back of it. I looked over his shoulder, noticing the symbols etched upon its surface. They looked familiar.

Where had I seen them before?

As I wracked my brain, Jimin adjusted his grip on the mirror and its handle came into view. I was staring, completely horrified at its marking of an upside-down cross, when Jimin flipped over the mirror.

“No, don’t—!” My scared protest sounded too late, as I watched in terror as Jimin gazed into the mirror just like Taehyung had minutes before.

“Fucking dumbass,” I groaned. Clearly, the mirror had some kind of curse and Jimin had walked right into it.

Taehyung chuckled amusedly at my obvious distress and turned to his friend, “Feel that power, Jimin?”

Jimin glanced up at Taehyung with now-matching black eyes and leisurely rolled his neck, cracking it, “Oh, fuck yeah.”

My ‘fuck this shit’ meter hit level one million as both boys turned their heads to face me.

“Uh,” I backed up, “I’m gonna go… Feel free to show yourselves out.”

“Now, wait just a second, columba,” the foreign word flowed unnaturally easily from Jimin’s mouth.

Speaking yet another language? That was a big no from me, dog.

I took off.

“Come on, (y/n), don’t run from us,” Taehyung taunted as I ran out my door at full speed. Racing down the stairs and across the apartment lobby, I rushed outside. I could hear them calling my name behind me, “Columba, you know we’ll find you.”

Jimin’s teasing voice urged me to run faster. I knew they had to be fucking with me at this point. They worked out on the daily while I only worked out when hustling to meet my Postmates at the door.

I weaved between pedestrians and made the split-second decision to duck inside the local art museum.

Pushing through the doors, I quickly pivoted to the exhibit on the left – the sculpture hall. I careened to a halt behind a massive sculpture of Galileo and fought to catch my breath.

Had I actually lost them?

A spark of hope bloomed in my chest.

And subsequently died when I heard a whistled tune echoing from the exhibit entrance. Were they seriously harmonizing their whistles to “Jopping”?

Maybe they weren’t completely evil?

“Found you, columba,” Taehyung whispered in my ear – entirely too close for me. I opened my mouth to scream, but his palm covered my mouth, “Shh, this is an art museum, (y/n). It requires you to be quiet. And so do I.”

My eyebrows knitted together as I glared defiantly into his blackened eyes. 

Fuck that noise. 

Cursed or not, I didn’t take orders from assholes.

Taehyung noticed my thunderous expression and smiled hugely, “We love how feisty you are, columba. We want you to be our third.”

He looked at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes at his idiocy and stared at him pointedly.

“Oh,” Taehyung grinned sheepishly, removing his hand, “My bad.”

“Your bad,” I seethed, “Your fucking bad? Who the hell do you think you are?” 

He opened his mouth to respond but I plowed ahead, “That was a rhetorical question, you buffoon. Now listen up: I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but I do know that I’m not vibing with the whole cursed black eyes and new language thing.”

“Ah, Tae, you found her,” Jimin chose the absolute wrong time to interrupt. As I level my glare towards him, he actually flinched back.

“Great,” I laugh, “You’re both here. Now can one of you press your last two working braincells together and give me an explanation?”

“We want you as our third,” Jimin said, as if that explained it all.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t speak demon.”

The boys snickered. “Yeah, the mirror chose wisely,” Taehyung told Jimin.

“Hello?” I waved my hand in between their faces, “I’m right here, boys.”

They turned to face me together. “We know,” Jimin said, prowling towards me.

“Yes,” Taehyung agreed, cornering me in from the other side, “We definitely know.”

“To be our third means that you’d complete our triad,” Jimin trailed his hand down my cheek, “Me, you, and Taehyung.”

“We know how you feel about us, columba,” Taehyung murmured from my other side as my back pressed further into the foot of the sculpture behind us.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I entered full deflective mode, “We’re friends – at least we were. Jury’s out right now.”

“Friends don’t want to fuck each other, (y/n).”

I choked on air at Jimin’s comment.

“You really should clear your search history,” Taehyung whispered into my neck, before giving it a nip.

I felt the blood drain from my face, “Search history?”

“’What is polyamory?’” Jimin ticked off a finger.

Okay, I could explain that search as innocent curiosity.

“’How to approach a polyamorous relationship’,” Taehyung continued and held up a second finger.

Again, I could probably play the innocence card.

“And, my personal favorite, ‘Is it wrong to fuck two friends at the same time?’” Jimin victoriously waves three fingers in the air.

Fuck. I forgot about that one.

I wracked my brain for excuses and came up with nothing. My shoulders slumped, “What do you want me to say? That I love both of you? That it’s embarrassing to admit? That I’ve been terrified to tell you? Take your pick!”

The boys looked at each other briefly and then back at me. “We’ve loved you since the day we met,” Jimin leaned in to kiss my cheek.

Taehyung pressed his mouth to my other cheek, and I could feel his lips moving against it as he added, “It’s true. We’ve been wanting to share you in every way since then.”

I was speechless – both from their proximity and their words.

“Look at her, Jimin. She’s gone quiet. Columba… Our little dove…” Taehyung trailed off, moving his mouth over mine and kissing me.

My body felt like it was on fire. My lips parted in a gasp and Taehyung took advantage, his tongue sliding across my own with a such a sensual slowness that my back arched against the statue’s pedestal behind me.

His hands travelled down the sides of my neck and stay there, gripping my throat lightly in his fingers as he works his tongue against mine.

“Be our third,” Jimin’s whisper sounded from my left, but I couldn’t process anything with Taehyung’s hand on my neck and tongue in my mouth.

Suddenly, Taehyung’s pushed off of me and Jimin slid into his place. “Say yes,” he continued and pressed his lips to mine.

His kiss is completely different than Taehyung’s, fervent but precise. He kisses me like he had been doing so all his life and knew every inch of my body.

Then I felt Taehyung push me off of the statue that I had been using as a crutch and slide into its place behind me. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me back against him, kissing my neck as Jimin continued to dominate my mouth.

“Say yes,” Taehyung echoed Jimin’s earlier plea.

Jimin removed his mouth from mine and smirked at my immediate sound of disappointment.

“Is that a yes, (y/n)?” he asks, raising a brow, his black eyes boring into mine.

I couldn’t speak. Taehyung’s thumbs were tracing patterns on my hips. Jimin trailed a hand up my torso to lightly land on my throat, finding my pulse-point.

This was too much.

On one hand, I knew they were still the boys, deep down. On the other, I had no fucking idea what that mirror had done to them.

But, fuck it – they were still my boys.

“It's a yes,” I said and reveled in Jimin’s beaming grin.

“We’re going to make you so happy you said yes,” came Taehyung’s voice behind me.

“Now, just one more thing,” Jimin reached for something behind his back.

Before I could even comprehend, he had the mirror in front of me. Taehyung’s hands framed my head, forcing it still.

Did Jimin have that thing this whole time? What the fuck?

My eyes were glued to my reflection in the mirror – it was smiling.

I was not.

And then I watched as my eyes turned black.

columba – (Latin) dove