#no caption for this one I just thought it fit them y’know?

[choose-wiselyyy]

[mrlxys]

•°. *࿐ 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘

➣ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! chris evans x fem!famous!reader

➣ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ! a lot of thirst tweets are said, swearing

➣ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ! thought of this and decided to write it!

━━ SUMMARY :: you and chris reading thirst tweets just because <3

➺ ❛ ⌗ lovers ❜

“Hey, I’m Y/N L/N,” You greeted with a smile, then looked over at Chris who was looking at you before his head swung to the camera, “And I’m Chris Evans.”

“And we are here with BuzzFeed to read thirst tweets.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as the words came out, “We haven’t even started and you’re a wreck.” Chris laughed along, doing his signature boob grab as he almost fell off his chair as he lost his breath.

“We’re professionals, I swear.” You then tried to pull yourself together with a stern face, but broke a smile as you excused your behavior to the camera. “Okay, who’s first?” You then spoke and turned over to Chris.

“Lady’s first.” He smiled.

“Such a gentleman,” You teased and pressed a tweet on the phone in your hand, “Oh, God. And, by the way, we’re reading each other’s thirst tweets to switch it up, ‘cause why not?” You shrugged as you thought of a reason, before stifling a laugh as you read the tweet in your head. “Chris Evans can rearrange my organs ‘till I’m that girl on Kevin Gates story.” You gaped with your eyes wide before throwing your head back into a fit of laughter.

“Is it that one story that everyone gushed about for a day?” He asked you innocently before you nodded, seeing realization hit him. A blush crept onto his cheeks as he stayed speechless. He then cleared his throat and tilted his head towards you, “And why do you know that story?”

“Well, because curiosity kills the cat. No, seriously, that story changed me. It’s natural, but still not something you see everyday.” You shrugged as he nodded in understanding, “Your turn, Evans.”

“Y/N is mother. Like honestly, mother was mothering a lot recently, and I swear I could fall onto my knees in front of her and [ REDACTED ] [ REDACTED ] [ REDACTED ]” He read, making you giggle once again. He cleared his throat and spoke up, “Gotta admit, I’m a bit intrigued on what they were thinking while writing this.”

“Scroll on twitter long enough and you’ll find out,” You answered almost immediately, “The moment I knew I was a Steve girl was the moment I saw him looking like a Goddamn glazed donut.” She smiled, making him let out a laugh, “Don’t get your hopes up, he doesn’t always look like that.” You said sarcastically with a shake of your head, getting a certain look from Chris.

“Rude.” He scoffed, making your facade falter, “I want—no, need and deserve to get absolutely demolished by Y/N L/N.” He stated. You gasped for a moment, “I’ve read worse. I want the big guns, I know they’re there.”

“What do you mean ‘you’ve read worse’?” He furrowed his brows as he crossed his arms over his chest, causing your eyes to flicker down to his arms before settling back on his blue eyes. “Well, I’ve read books, wattpad, tumblr, tiktok captions and filthy ass comments exist, y’know…” You shrugged. He slightly opened his mouth in surprise, “Oh, don’t act surprised. You knew I read things, you just didn’t know what.” You nonchalantly said.

“Y’all talking about which cars your dream rides are. Nah, Chris motherfucking Evans is my dream ride. We are not the same.” She laughed as she nodded, “Real.” The word slipped out before you could even stop it, getting a playful look from everyone behind the camera, “Don’t be so judgy! Everyone here is so judgmental.” You jokingly said, getting a pillow thrown by your manager, aka, one of your closest friends.

“Would I immediately date Y/N if I get the smallest chance? One hundred percent. Would she be committing a crime? Absolutely. Do I mind? No. Not one bit.” He read. You hid your face with your hands, laughing as you then put them down once you were done; however a smile still evident on your face. “Do not know how to react to that.”

“‘Till—no, we are not stopping. I want Chris absolutely on the brink of exploding, a literal whimpering mess. I want that man to look me dead in the eye and tell me if I stop I’ll literally spend the rest of the day regretting everything I’ve ever done.” You said as if it was the most casual thing ever, while Chris was debating if he should stay silent or laugh.

“Damn. How do I recover from that?” He asked you playfully, “Don’t know, don’t care.” You shrugged, earning a hit on your shoulder by him in a jokingly response.

“My wife Y/N is underrated. Where are her nsfw posts on tumblr? I want her edits all over my for you page, I want to literally be mortifyingly obsessed with this woman. I don’t give two flying fucks who she dates ( sorry chris x ) or how big our age gap is; when I see an attractive woman, I want her!” He enthusiastically said, “I don’t know how to feel about this. Never mind, I do. No.” He then placed a kiss on your cheek as you just eyed him teasingly.

“What does…nsfw even mean?” He asked you genuinely as he made sure he wasn’t just hallucinating it. “It’s like inappropriate things someone would do, I guess.”

“Do you even know what it stands for?” Your manager asked from behind the camera, “No! I do not. Honestly, thought about googling it, decided not to. I mean seriously, what does nsfw stand for? Not safe for widows?”

Chris, once again, did his boob grab as he laughed, eyes squinting as you watched him with your eyes filled with love. You weren’t able to hold back a few giggles. He had tears streaming down his face at your sentence, making you wipe them away before turning to the camera.

“He’s so daddy. He actually surpassed that, he’s moved to zaddy. Oh, he definitely whimpers.” You tilted your head at the last sentence, unsure if you read it right as you bit your lip to bite back a laugh—something that seemed to be happening a lot more than you thought, “I will not be saying anything that will stir anything up.” You paused before whispering to the camera, “He so does.”

The people behind the it seemed to gasp and laugh, making Chris tilt his head at you, “Hey, man, just giving the people what they want.” You defended.

“Not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that Y/N has those thighs. Respectfully, let me eat you.” He laughed as he shifted in his seat. You didn’t miss that look on his face, “Ugh, thank you.” You bowed, “Respectfully, of course.”

“Chris Evans? Nah, Chrizz Evans.” You laughed, “I actually saw this one.” You flicked your hair off your shoulders in a gleeful manner. “You just read these when you’re bored?”

“Again, read way worse. You would not believe the things people say about you in random comments.”

“I would literally bend myself over backwards just to get a glance from Y/N. I would absolutely let that woman cuff me and run me over ‘till sunrise.” He read with furrowed brows, a chuckle leaving his lips.

“I am…honored.” You gulped with a nervous smile, “But do not…just—“ You did not know how to react to that as you felt your cheeks warm up. “Thank you.”

“Sure messed you up, didn’t it?” Chris laughed at your reaction, making you hit his arm.

“Chris Evans, please stick your tongue down my throat.” You then said, glancing over at Chris for his reaction. “All right, two more then we’re done, right?” You asked, getting a nod from your manager.

“I would let Y/N L/N ruin my life twice, and get away with it.” He looked up at the camera, “facts.” He then continued on, shocking you.

“I’m in a getaway car,” You sang, “Sorry. Anyway! Christopher, it would mean the world to me if you could just place a laptop on my tits, then slam it shut.” You laughed with your eyes wide, seeing him speechless as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I guess this is it for now. This has been—a joy, to say the least. Wouldn’t you say?” You turned your head to Chris, “Definitely something to remember.” He laughed.

“An experience I will forever cherish,” You put your hands on the place your heart is, “And do not forget you may personally send me whatever comments you want on my instagram.”

You then waved to the camera as it ended, looking over at Chris. “Do people really—“

“You have no idea.” You cut him off, a hand on his shoulder.

──── 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒 . . . !

[happilylovingchaos]

Post-ep Thoughts:

*: for plot points that might need suspension of disbelief

“I’m so fired.” On-nose, I like it. (What? It’s called levity)

Conflict of interest is probably gonna be one of those plot points where you have to suspend your disbelief— for instance, no way would Grace be allowed to take point on a call involving Judd. *

Oh god, Judd…

That’s some weird advice to give, making grand gestures. Also was this what TK talked about later, with the guy hanging off the tower? (“Y’know, I once rescued a window washer from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building.”)

I thought that Owen said, “Gotta love NY” but the Hulu captions say “God, I love NY”. ???

Honolulu’s Chinatown is probably up there with New York’s Chinatown in terms of apartment rent costs— but TK lucked out in his living situation. His unit looks nice, for how little it’s been shown. (And… I wonder if his OD would have happened the morning or so after he met with Alex?)

Side note on this: “Were you trying to kill yourself?” (From how TK acts later in the series, I think… yes but also no? I get some passive suicidal ideation from that previous OD).

Not that anyone cares much after 4 years, but looked up the actor who played that character— he’s Harrison Grant.

Now I get why some of y’all fanfic writers present Alex as low-grade ass. He was really just used as an inciting incident.

I don’t say much about Mateo, but I had no idea his character shared an actor in common until after. Also, I really wish I had your tenacity when it came to the JLPT, man.

Boy, I wonder if the ep director/ creators asked Liv to portray Michelle with a troubled vibe? I mean, I’ve heard that some fandom members think her character is not all there, or shallow… IMO it is kind of a unexpected but welcome play against her more pure-/ ethereal-/ wise- esque character types. (But, as much as I respect the missing-sister issue and grief, Michelle… you are really not helping your own case with that guy’s neighbors.)

With the benefit of hindsight, I think I see why some of you guys were caught off-guard with the Blakes being mentioned again in season 4– I did get the feeling that Carlos’ scene with Michelle was something you had to read between the lines to find context for. (Plus, aside from the interaction that shows he’s been her arresting officer long enough for both of them to treat it like routine, and his calling her constant searching “a rut”… maybe he did try, too, to look for Iris until the non-leads piled up too much for him. What is certain is that another party had a role in the disappearance but to what end, unclear.)

Related to the portrayal type: Michelle does have a soothing presence when she and her team have to treat patients. So… character is like

Marjan might need an agent at this point?? I wonder how long she’s been Firefox, or if she’s been allowed to film on calls.*

Paul sounds like he could be a Hero of Another Story, with the commendations he received, his gender identity, and how he dealt with the mean streets before joining Chicago FD.

TSP (Time Skip Passing): I’d guess it takes much longer IRL (edit: RFMarch mentions at least 1 year) to rebuild a damaged/ nonexistent firehouse, let alone assemble a new team. Since the old 126 hadn’t been touched for 6 months but presumably already most of the main appliances and furniture were functional… okay, that’s six months grievance + hiring processes of the new team + construction time + extra factors.

I’m using TSP for my own reference to figure out how much time passes between plot developments in this show. Note: I’m going with my gut and wits on this, so just know this is not a reliable thing. If you don’t agree with this, then that’s okay.

Adjusting to fit, I’m assuming the show’s timeline starts sometime in August 2018 (factory explosion around then in Austin, with Strands’ arrival occurring in March 2019 give or take a few days). 38 weeks + 6 weeks max hiring + expedited firehouse rebuild of 6-12 months (~52 weeks or 364 days)… and. Came out to 96 weeks.🤨🤔Pretty sure the showrunners aren’t gonna confirm, I just wanted to start somewhere.

I think Jim Parrack didn’t get enough mention for his acting. He plays off of Rob Lowe’s dead seriousness and goofy side so well, that their interactions really felt like a budding friendship (with Michelle? Let’s just say… she’s not as demure as she appears).

Emergency Notes:

Nice call forward to 4x15, but GOOD LORD. You men should just sell those peppers and stick to Tabasco from now on if you’re so set on vitriolically resolving your issues.

The logistics of the car accident aside, I’m just really grateful that that baby seat saved the baby’s life.

Episode 1x01 Pilot Discussion Thread

Please feel free to use the comment thread and tags of this post throughout the week as a place to liveblog while watching the episode, discuss with friends, post your metas and thoughts etc. Anything you’d like to discuss while watching the episode is welcome!!

Please reblog this post for visibility!!

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS II | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Part 2! Read Part 1.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.1k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

After Hours - The Velvet Underground

Mr. Loverman - Ricky Montgomery

Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now - The Smiths

“Ramona . . .” you whine.

“I know . . . a mess.”

“I, uh,” you set your phone down, keeping Ramona’s voice on speaker. “I have to get out of this hotel, I have to get home.”

“[y/n], no.”

“No?”

“No.”

You begin changing out of your pajamas, your hands trembling as you slip on a pair of jeans. “Are you telling me I can’t go home right now? Seriously?”

“Seriously. Unless you wanna get swarmed by paparazzi, and risk leaving the hotel at the same time as him, you need to stay put.”

“This . . . this . . . is a mess. This is a huge mess, I — Ramona, I’m leaving.” You ramble, grabbing your things from the bedside dresser.

“[y/n] [y/l/n].” Ramona says, sternly. “You are my boss, but I have direct orders from your publicist to make sure you stay put. So, sit down, chill out, I’ll be there in five. And, honestly . . . you should have some wine.”

“Wha — wine? It’s seven in the morning.”

“Y’know what? You deserve it. Be there soon.”

She was already on the way when she hung up, and when she knocks on the door, you’re sat criss-cross on the bed, sipping a glass of wine. She’s right, you deserve it. You hold the fragile cup in your hand as you open the door, and she waltzes her way in.

“You calm now?” she asks.

“Medicated,” you shrug, holding the glass of wine up in the air.

“Perfect . . . so, were you ever going to tell anyone that you used to date Matthew Gray Gubler?”

You scoff, wander through the hotel room, “I didn’t date Matthew Gubler,” you take a seat on the bed.

“Okay, were you going to mention that you used to fuck Matthew Gray Gubler?” She crosses her arms.

“I . . .” you stutter, go silent in response.

“Oh, God,” she groans.

“It was a long, long time ago! It’s no one’s business, and there’s hardly any proof that it’s anything but a rumor.”

“No proof? —“ She shakes her head, pulling her iPad from her bag. As she clicks a few buttons, she adds, “Did you not see what people were saying? . . . The pictures?”

“Pictures?” You gasp, setting you glass down. “What pictures?”

Ramona sighs, and hands the iPad over to you, avoiding eye contact. You slowly take the device from her hands, and let out a shaky breath.

“The first two were posted a, um, John Hearse on twitter . . .” she explains.

“I mean, if you and Gube just . . . I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

Ramona’s words start to fade, to rescind to dust and ash, as you absorb the image in front of you. It��s old . . . and slightly blurry, but you recognize every face. John, Steve, Matthew . . . and you, sat in his lap, head on his shoulder with a huge, bright smile on your face. Matthew had his hand on your waist, practically gripping your shirt in his hand, keeping you close. The next picture, he was making you laugh, all three of you, as you looked, lovingly, into his eyes.

They were posted in response to a final picture, of you and Matthew reuniting. You looking, literally, like an idiot, in the daze of seeing him and recieving a hug. Some professional photographer had captured the whole thing.

John’s pictures are captioned: Whoaaa glad to see these two back together!

“They used to be, heh,” you chuckle dryly to yourself as you read the tweet outloud. “Inseparable, wow. Remind me to call John up later and yell at him until he cries.”

“Wh — what happened between you two?”

“Me and John? Nothing much, we were good friends,” you shrug.

“No — [y/n], c’mon . . .” Ramona groans.

“It would take,” you sigh. “So much time, and so much energy for me to tell that story right now. I don’t have it in me, Ramona, I just . . . I just want to go home.”

“The place is surrounded by paparazzi, they’re harassing every celebrity that leaves the building, and I’m pretty sure your high on their watchlist right now.”

“Yeah, I’ve mastered the art of ignoring them, I’ll be fine, just call me a ride, please,” you grumble, setting the iPad down and rising to your feet.

She sighs, giving in, giving up, “There’s one waiting for you out front.”

“Thank you,” you nod.

Your belongings are removed from the room first, carried down by an accommodating bellhop. Ramona followed you down to the lobby, trailing you, like she always did. But keeping a closer eye on you than usual. You stopped in front of the revolving door, lips pursed in a look of annoyance as you came face to face with the hoard of paparazzi.

They noticed you through the glass before you had the chance to take a breath, and if you stood still for too long, you feared it would show as weakness, a reason to be suspicious. So, you held your head up tall, took in a deep breath, and stepped into the spotlight.

You’ve mastered the look of constantly-tired-business-woman-chic. Today, you’re running off a cup of coffee, and as always, throw on jeans and a graphic t-shirt. Comfortable shoes, because those heels destroyed your feet last night.

It’s a short walk to the car, but a million and one pictures are taken of you. You smile, respectfully, do a little wave. Don’t want to look too bitter. You drown out the questions, drown out the comments, because you swear if you hear his name, you’ll roll your eyes.

Ramona gets into the car after you, and closes the door. You let out a long sigh, and sulk in your seat. “This sucks,” you mumble, the car staring the ten minute drive to your home.

“Okay, [y/n] Gubler,” she replies.

“Hey!” You sit up. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she whines. “I knew something was off last night. I could’ve helped you avoid him, I could’ve gotten his car towed, I could’ve sent him the wrong address. You just have to communicate.”

“That is . . . unprofessional, and Matthew Gubler is, apparently, very professional. And he . . .” you trail off.

“He . . ? What?”

“He, donated a very healthy amount of money to the program, which, has nothing to do with me, by the way. None of it has anything to do with me, he’s just . . . professional.” You roll your eyes.

“What the hell happened between you two?” Ramona asks, noticing your shift in tone.

“Ooh, damn!” You ignore her, looking out the window. “We should’ve stopped and grabbed donuts.”

“Fine,” she surrenders.

You were surprised to find no paparazzi surrounding your penthouse building. Ramona had packed away all your belongings, and sent someone inside to place them in your apartment.

“Stay off social media,” she tells you before you leave. “Okay? No posting.”

“Silent stalking, only. Got it.”

You hold your phone in your hand as you walk into the building, ride the elevator up to the fifth floor. It’s quiet, and it’s what you need right now. To be home alone, with your thoughts.

You crash onto the couch, face first, and groan as you roll over. Last night should’ve been joyous, and fun, and it was. But, it was supposed to be the end. It was supposed to bring peace, knowing that everything you worked for, payed off and went out with a bang.

But, because of him, and John, and these stupid pictures, it’s far from the end. A whole new storm has started, and it’s making you nauseous.

Yet, you can’t keep yourself offline. You spend hours scrolling through tweet upon tweet, instagram post after instagram post, and each and every comment is as gut wrenching as the last. The internet’s made up it’s mind, and you and Matthew Gubler are the perfect couple. You fit together, you look right together, you have history together.

A history that was better left buried.

Because, when it comes up, when you think about, and you think about that one decision that could’ve changed everything . . . you crack. You spiral. You can’t shake it for days. Weeks. You think about him, and what you could’ve been.

It’s a hurricane, and it sweeps you up everytime, even when you know it’s coming.

There’s a knock at the door, and your heart drops. It’s naive, and childish to think that maybe, just maybe, it’s him. Coming to apologize for being a dick. But the idea of it has you racing to the door, and flinging it open before you can think about it.

“Hey, Aunt [y/n]!”

“Hey,” Claire smiles. “We brought donuts.”

This is better.

The seven year old held onto your hand as you guided her and her mother in your apartment. “Oh, my goodness,” you beamed to Dorthy, earning a bright smile from her. “Is Roni with you?” You turned to ask Claire.

“She had to help her mother with something today, but I told her that I had to help you through a serious crisis.”

“Ah,” you nod. “You’ve been online, huh?”

You take a seat with Dorothea on the couch, turn on the TV. “Wanna pick something to watch?” You smile, and she nods happily, taking the remote from you.

You join Claire in the kitchen, and she hands you a cookies and cream donut. You hum happily as you take it from her, take a seat on the counter, “God, thank you.”

She nods, “Yes, I’ve been online. I’ve been tracking everything about you and your big, big night,” she chuckles. “So I was ready to run over here when I saw those pictures going around.”

“You saw them?” You gasp, horrified, with the donut hanging from your mouth.

“Oh, yeah, I don’t remember when they were taken, though?”

“Vegas, 2001,” you tell her. “You didn’t — you didn’t come with us.”

She sighs, tilts her head at you, “[y/n] . . .”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you nod, reassuringly. “I’m not going down a Matthew rabbit hole. Not right now. Y’know why? Because he is an ass, he’s rude, and disrespectful, and stirs shit up for no reason, and —“

“Whoa!” Claire exclaims. “Did I enter a time portal to 1999 or something?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you roll your eyes.

“[y/n], you knew seeing Matthew was a possibility last night, and that it would bring back all these emotions, and you swore you could handle it —“

“I did handle it! I handled it very, very well. He’s the one who lost his cool. You should’ve heard him, Claire,” you ramble. “Nothing I did tonight has anything to do with you? I’m a professional? I didn’t do it to cushion your feelings? He’s a dick! He — he threw everything in my face the minute he could, and now my name is connected to his, our history is out there for everyone to see, and . . . he probably fucking hates me,” you laugh.

You laugh.

It’s a dry laugh, a sad laugh.

Claire frowns, and steps over to you, putting her arm around your shoulders.

“He hates me,” you say. “And he probably has every reason to. But I can handle it. I can handle the emotions, I’ve handled them for a long time,” you look at her. “And it’s not my fault if he can’t do the same, right?”

Claire sighs, pushes your hair back, “No.” She shakes her head. “No, you’ve moved on. You should want him to do the same thing, and not cause anymore hurt. You deserve that.”

“Mom! Aunt [y/n]!” Dorthy calls from the couch. Her head pops up, and she grins at you two. “Best and Ballet is on!”

“Ooh, what show is that?” You chuckle, hopping down from the counter. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Hey,” Claire calls, grabbing onto your arm before you can walk into the living room. “It’s like everything else in show business, right? People will talk for a few days, maybe a week, right? And then it’ll fade. It’ll pass.”

You give her a nod, let her know that you hear her, and that you’re going to push through this. Because you have no choice. Because above being a celebrity, a figurehead, a boss, a producer . . . you’re a teacher. A damn good one, and the last person who’s going to change that is Matthew Gubler.

You pack him away. The idea of him. Tie him off with a neat, little bow.

Because the show must go on.

“Rolling!”

You walk across the studio, behind the cameras, watching your students on screen. “Can you get a wide shot? You’re not getting the best lighting, nor every student in one shot.” You say to the cinematographer.

“[y/n],” the director calls. “We film from this angle every episode. Why change it?”

“Because every episode, some of my best dancers are cut from the shot beside of sloppy angles and the light from the windows blinds the mirrors the cameras?”

“Those are things out of our control.”

“Oh, yeah?” you turn to him. “You wanna tell that to someone who didn’t go to film school? . . . Twice?”

He gulps, motions to the cinematographer, “Change the shot.”

You grin, order the camera woman to make the correct adjustments, “See?” You beam. “No glare.”

You walk off, Ramona trailing behind you, giving the director a pitiful smile. Once you’re away from the cameras, and the studio, you grumble, “Remind me to never be talked into hiring a male director again.

“You’re turning into Medusa.”

“What?” You look at her, furrowing your eyebrows.

“What? You’ve never seen Grey’s Anatomy? Medusa? Turns people into stone? A . . . bitch?”

“Actual Medusa was not a bitch, she was cursed by a man.”

“Okay, fair, you were cursed by a man —“

“Dooooon’t!” You roll your eyes. “I’m not Medusa, I’m very nice.”

“You’re nice to me, and to your students, and the nice ladies that do your hair and makeup. Everyone else, stone.”

“Stop.”

“I wish you would tell me what happened,” she groans. “It’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone! I’m just, worried about you, and a little nosey.”

“Ramona . . . it’s been how long since that weekend?”

“Well, well,” she stutters. “Only a week.”

“A week is a long time, I’ve moved on. I’ve avoided any and all questions on the subject, from everyone. I’ve been actively dodging it on social media. I’m doing well.”

She nods.

“Now,” you continue to walk down the hall. “I have a talk show interview tonight? What time do I have to be there?”

You stop when you realize Ramona isn’t following you. You turn around, and she stuck in her spot.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Can’t move. Been turned to stone.”

You hated the Medusa comparison wholeheartedly. But, right now, you just want to yell at whoever booked you for a late night talk show. You’re tired after a long day of work, and you’re cranky, and crabby, and maybe, just maybe . . . the comparison isn’t too far off right now.

You’re charming, sure. Let’s go with that. But now, it’s all starting to dawn on you. Here, in this dressing room that’s lit up like a christmas tree. Revealing every ounce of exhaustion in your face, in your eyes. It’s nearly ten o’clock at night, and you’re placed in an elegant, black dress that stops just above your knees. Black heels cover your feet, and your hair and makeup were done half an hour ago.

You have to figure it out. You test different ones out in the mirror. Different smiles. You have to nail the I-have-to-talk-about-myself-for-an-hour-and-laugh smile. The happy, glowing, kind smile. You think you have it when there’s a knock on the door.

You keep the smile on, don’t want to lose it. You call Ramona in, and she looks at you, curiously. “You okay?”

“Yep,” you nod, brightening your smile. “Show time?”

“Are — are you having a stroke?”

“Okay, I’m trying to put on my interview face here, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry, you look great!” You smiles.

“Ramona,” you whisper, stepping close to her. “There’s a good chance they’re gonna ask me about him, right?”

She takes a breath in, prepared to answer, but no words come out. Your eyes are wide, innocent, hopeful. And she hates to lie to you.

“Yes . . .” is all she can say. “There is a, very, very good chance they will ask you about him.”

You sigh, duck your head. And when you pick it back up, your smile is on. “Okay, let’s go.” You step out into the hallway, Ramona closing the door behind you.

It was a time portal. The door. The hallway.

Matthew’s eyes land on you at the same time you see him, and you both freeze. Ramona bites at her nails, anxiously eyeing the two of you.

You feel your body, your soul, revert. Regress in every way to embody the spirit of you, at age 18, about 18 years ago.

You scoff, meaning your next words with every fiber of your being, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@ncsls0515

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

@calm-and-doctor

@spencerreid-mgg

@reidsconverse

@sizzlingclamturtlesludge

[blueskrugs]

That Don’t Sound Like You | Brock Boeser

title and inspiration come from the Lee Brice song of the same name. I like country music, okay? takes place roughly September 2015-August 2019. all games and other teammates are accurate.

because @captainkreider​ said “what if you write this for Brock” and I immediately had to rethink my priorities on who I will and will not write for. and then this happened. 

length: 4.7 words 

Girl, I’m glad you called

You met Brock early in your freshman year at University of North Dakota. He was always surrounded by people, popular and charismatic, even as a slightly awkward 18-year-old, but it seemed like he could, and would, talk to anyone who would listen.

You found that out for yourself when he plopped down a couple seats from you in some 100 level English lecture before leaning across the empty desk between you to introduce himself.

“I’m Brock,” he said with a grin.

You took a moment to assess him. His blond hair was tucked beneath a backwards snapback, looking every bit like a douche college athlete, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile seemed genuine. You shot him a quick smile of your own before turning back to your notes.

“I’m Y/N,” you offered. Brock was still watching you closely; you flipped the page of your notebook.

Any further conversation was cut short by your professor coming in, his typical five minutes late. It was already the third week of class, and Brock had never sat near you before, usually choosing to sit more near the back, but you buried your confusion in favor of focusing on the lecture. 

Brock kept sitting next to you, though, would start a conversation with you most days. It was a week and a half before he asked for your phone number, another week before he actually texted you to complain about how he didn’t understand an assigned reading. In the meantime, you’d learned that you hadn’t grown up far from each other in Minnesota– just a couple towns away from each other outside Minneapolis, his favorite color– blue, but only one highly specific shade, and how he’d been drafted by the Canucks but was still trying out the whole college thing.

“So,” Brock started one day in October. You hummed in response, not looking up from your notes– you were trying to review for the test you had after this lecture was over. Brock nudged your elbow, but you still didn’t look up at him. “Hey. Y/N.” Brock was starting to whine now, so you glanced up at him. “So, uh, we have our first home game this Saturday.”

You raised an eyebrow at Brock. He looked nervous, fidgeting with a hoodie string and chewing on his bottom lip. You poked him in the arm with your pen. 

“Got something you wanna say, Boes?”

“Would you, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, Brock, I don’t know. Spit it out.”

“Do you wanna come to the game?” he finally managed.

Now, UND took hockey as seriously as some colleges took football, and you’d spent more than one conversation with Brock discussing hockey, so he knew you liked it. Of course you’d be at the game on Saturday. But Brock wasn’t asking if you were going as a hockey fan. He was asking if you’d come to see him play.

You grinned, and Brock ducked his head and refused to look at you. His cheeks looked a little pink. You poked him with your pen again, this time just below his ribs, and he squirmed and snatched the pen from your hand. 

“Yeah, Brock, I’ll be there,” you assured him. 

He threw your pen at you. 

Brock scored a hat trick in front of the sold-out crowd and swept you up in his arms outside the arena.

That became the new normal for you two. You went to every home game to watch as Brock tore up the league as one of the best freshmen anyone had ever seen. He’d meet you outside the arena, and you’d end up at a diner with the rest of the team with Brock’s arm draped around your shoulder. The team accepted you into their fold easily enough, teasing and chirping you just as they would any other player. There was time spent alone with Brock, too, or as alone as you could get in a dorm building. It had started under the pretense of studying together, but over time, it usually ended under a pile of blankets and Grey’s Anatomy playing on one of your laptops.

Brock kissed you for the first time in early December, after the team swept the weekend against Denver. It was cold, and his breath brushed across your face in a white cloud when he leaned in, but his lips were warm against yours. 

Not much changed after that, not really, except for the fact that Brock got much less shy about always wanting to be near you or touching you in some way, whether it was your knees pressed against each other beneath a table on a date, or a hand on your hip or linked with yours when you were hanging out with others.

He did trip over his own feet the first time he saw you wearing one of his hoodies, though. 

You surprised Brock in Tampa in April for the Frozen Four finals, where he had the game winning goal, and three more assists to boot. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him smile as big as when you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist after the game, Stretch and Drake and everyone else still screaming somewhere behind you.

Truck tires on a gravel road Laughing at the world, blasting my radio Cannonballs splashing in the water

Brock called you one afternoon in June, after life had settled down into the lazy days of summer. “What’s up, babe?” you asked, absently throwing a tennis ball for your dog out in the yard.

Brock hesitated. “Do you still wanna come out to the lake with us?”

You had talked about it, a little, back when it was still ungodly cold in North Dakota, and Brock had mentioned that his family was going to try and rent a place on a lake for a week or two in July. It had seemed so far away then, as distant future as graduating or Brock heading off to Vancouver, which feels foolish now, with July creeping closer every day.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

The two of you talked about the future for the first time that week at Minnetonka, between bets of who could make the biggest splash, or turning up Brock’s playlists as loud as you could, yelling the words to country songs up to the clouds.

Brock wanted to stay at UND another year, use it to develop his game, but he whispered in the dark one night that he was scared of making it all the way to the NHL and not living up to expectations, no longer a bright star, but a supernova, left to fade into nothing. 

You had dreams of your own, too. Graduating and getting a job in a big city, getting away from Minnesota and small towns where everyone knew everyone. California, maybe, or somewhere on the East Coast like D.C.

(Brock had made a face at you for that.)

You realized for the first time, too, that you just might be in love with Brock. You weren’t sure what to do with that realization, though, just tucked your face a little tighter into Brock’s shoulder, tried not to think about what you would do if Brock ever asked you to follow him to Vancouver. You weren’t sure you could give up your life plans for anyone.

July passed with days in the sun and nights near a bonfire, drowning in one of Brock’s hoodies as you sat in his lap under a blanket. You wished you could live in moments like those forever.

Sophomore year was different for both of you. You were busier with classes, and Brock was more focused on hockey than ever, determined not to let his freshman season be a fluke. 

Not that anyone thought it would be.

Brock became an alternate captain. Continued to dominate on the ice, came back stronger after a couple of injuries. Brock Boeser was making a name for himself, and it was only a matter of time before everyone started paying attention.

The day after the team lost to Boston University in double overtime, the defending champs going out on their very first game of the tournament, Brock was home in Minnesota, signing an entry-level contract, and playing his first game as a Vancouver Canuck.

He had kissed you goodbye on Thursday before the team left for Fargo, with an “I love you,” murmured against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair, the promise of “see you soon” unspoken but understood between you.

But you sat on your couch and watched as Brock took to the ice for the team that believed in him against the team he grew up watching, you started to wonder just how soon that would be, and if you’d ever get your Brock back, or if you’d lost his love to the city of Vancouver.

Brock scored a goal that night. You’d always known he would fit right in in Vancouver. 

Brock broke up with you that summer. You had seen it coming, maybe since last July, when you realized that your lives were heading in different directions, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. You were supposed to go up to Minnetonka again, but you never made it that far before he was standing on your doorstep, hands shoved deep in your pockets.

Part of you wanted to insist that you could make the distance work, and maybe you could, maybe Brock thought it, too, but you couldn’t think of the words.

“I love you,” you said instead. 

You dropped a Target bag full of Brock’s things on his parents’ front porch, hoodies and beanies and other things that were too hard to keep, before you headed back to UND for the fall.

You kept in touch some, congratulatory texts (you) or pictures of the weather (him). You received dozens of Snapchats during All-Star Weekend in 2018, especially of the adorable dog he ended up adopting– you had vetoed changing his name from Cider– but you were pretty sure he was sending them to everyone.

Until you got one simply captioned “would be better with you here.” You stared at the picture– the view of Tampa outside his hotel room window– until the time ran out, and it disappeared. Then another came in, and you opened it quickly, unthinkingly. “Not quite like the last time we were in Tampa together tho.”

The only time you’d been to Tampa had been nearly two years before for the Frozen Four.

The picture disappeared again, and you didn’t know how to respond. So you didn’t.

You graduated a semester early and made plans to move to the East Coast and get a job, start your life for real. No one commented on how you were about as far away from Brock and Vancouver as you could get.

You were doing laundry at your parents’ house, packing most of what you owned in your car to move, when you came across a green UND hockey T-shirt. It still smelled a little like Brock, even though it had been buried in your room for years. You spared half a thought to wonder if Brock ever even missed it before you throw it in the washing machine. 

You were surprised, then, when you got a text– a real one, too, not a Snapchat message– from Brock later that summer. You had never responded to those messages he had sent during the All-Star Game, and he had stopped sending things after a while. That had been over a year ago. 

Brock’s message was simple, just a “hey, how have you been?” You wondered if he even knew you moved, and you were immediately suspicious of ulterior motives. 

You left him on read for a couple of hours, before responding, and your message was short, curt. Your suspicions were proved right when he responded within half an hour.

“so” “Some of the guys from UND are coming up north for a couple days” “and they’ve been making some noise about seeing you”

You sighed. You were too tired for playing games, talking coyly, pretending like you were anything more than a couple of exes, practically strangers at this point. You pressed the call button below Brock’s name, realized for the first time that you’d never removed the green heart emoji from his contact. 

“Y/N?” Brock sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t been the one to text you first.

“Why now, Brock?” you asked. Why do you still care, is what you didn’t.

“Stetch won’t shut up about wanting to see you, and some of the other guys picked up the chorus,” Brock said. He sounded as tired as you felt. It may have been years since you had last seen some of his teammates from UND, it certainly sounded like they haven’t changed much. 

You went quiet, chewing on your bottom lip. Brock rushed to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to come. I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have texted, I’m sorry.” His voice faded slightly, like he’d pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up.

And, well, you were going to blame what you said next on the fact that it was well after midnight and that you’d been awake for too many consecutive hours. 

“When is everyone coming up?”

Brock was silent, not even the sound of his breathing coming over the line. You checked to make sure he hadn’t, in fact, ended the call.

“Uh, second week of August,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Brock echoed. You could picture the crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, ‘okay.’ I’ll think about it,” you said. 

You didn’t know why you said that.

You didn’t know why you booked a flight to Minneapolis, or why you were actually looking forward to it. Even when Brock texted to warn you that some of his Canucks teammates would be there with the old faces from UND. 

You didn’t know what you were doing as you stood in the entryway of a lake house in Minnesota. Out on the deck, you could see some familiar faces, but you had never felt so out of place in your life. 

This was a bad idea. No, it was a terrible idea. You weren’t in college anymore. These weren’t your friends, your people. They had all moved on with their lives, and so had you. A weekend on a lake in Minnesota would only bring back the memories and the regrets of years gone by. 

You were just debating turning around and pretending that you had never even come when Brock stepped in and saw you standing there, looking like a fool. He looks surprised to see you. You take another step into the house.

“Hey, Y/N!” The surprise is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with what looks like genuine happiness. “C’mon, everyone’s outside.”

You follow silently, taking in Brock’s bare, tanned shoulders, the way his hair looks blonder from hours spent out on the lake. For a moment, you’re both 19 again.

Stetch yells when he sees you first, and then you’re being mobbed by hockey players. You only know a couple from UND– Stetch, Drake, and Josty, to start– and the rest are from Vancouver, introductions blurring together in a mess of faces and nicknames– Tuna, Petey, and Chris, who had definitely been called Dad by at least three different people.

You finally manage to break away and head for a drink, but Brock follows you.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, and you believe him, look into his eyes, painfully earnest and real and blue like the reflection of the sky on the lake. You offer a weak smile in return, not sure if you can say the same, not yet. Brock steps closer and opens the lid of the cooler you’re standing next to. “Jess says you ended up in D.C. after all. How is that? You happy?” 

His question catches you off-guard, and you hesitate, too long. “Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, it’s great.” Everything I’ve ever wanted, except you’re not there, is what you don’t say. You wonder briefly if he can still see right through you.

Brock’s head is buried in the cooler as he digs through the ice, but you can still see the way his shoulders go up like they always do when he’s frowning. That’s a yes, then. 

“What’s the difference between a White Claw and a Truly, anyway?” he muses instead of calling you out, before surfacing with one of each in his hands. He offers them both to you, and you take the Truly– wild berry, your favorite, not that Brock would have any reason to know that– and leave him the White Claw. He cracks it open and takes a long drink. You tear your eyes away from the line of his throat as he swallows.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?” Brock asks pointedly. Damn, he still follows you on Instagram.

You take a drink yourself instead of answering right away. “Couldn’t get off work,” you say. Which isn’t a lie, not really, but you hadn’t even asked, just told him you would be visiting home for the week. You didn’t think he’d love the idea of spending a weekend with a bunch of hockey players, especially when the one who’d invited you happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

Brock just blinks at you for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you could make it,” he says again, just as honest as before. 

When the next person asks if you’re happy in D.C., you’re not quite as off-guard, and you manage to smile when you answer this time. Brock is watching you from across the deck, though, and you wonder if the smile looked as fake as it felt to everyone else, or if it was just Brock. 

You’re arguing with Josty about something ridiculous, when Emma, Troy’s girlfriend, sees you for the first time. 

“Oh my God, you cut your hair! It’s so cute!” she said before wrapping you up in a hug.

When she lets you go, you sweep your hair over one shoulder, an old habit from when it hung halfway down your back; it barely brushed your shoulders now.

“Thought it was time for a change,” you say, “and my boyfriend really likes it this way.”

Next to you, Tyson frowns and mumbles something about finding Brock. You and Emma both watch him go, a little confused.

I know it’s been a while, I don’t mean to pry But when I asked you if you’re happy, I didn’t hear a smile,  and that don’t sound like you

You’re sitting on the dock with your feet in the water that night when Brock settles next to you. Up at the house, everyone is either asleep or on their way to it. You’re both quiet for a moment, just the sound of crickets and the water lapping against the dock. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Brock says lowly. 

You breathe out a laugh. “I wasn’t either, not until I was actually here,” you admit. 

“Why did you come?”

“Why did you invite me?” you counter. It was the thing that kept bothering you about all this. Why had Brock decided to reach out now, after so long, after you’d moved on?

Brock sighs. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while.” It’s almost defensive, the way he says it. 

“Not like you tried very hard to catch up ever,” you say, and it’s mean, because you had stopped responding first, but you hadn’t known what else to do, how else to handle the heartbreak you had to relive with every text. 

“You fucking stopped talking to me!” Brock says, and, yeah, you deserve that, deserve the anger in his voice. You don’t expect to hear sadness, too, but you do. 

“What else was I supposed to do, Brock? Keep torturing myself with every text I sent?” You can’t bring yourself to be mad. You tilt your chin to look up at the stars instead, pretend you can’t feel Brock’s eyes on you. The stars are so much brighter out here, back home. “You were off chasing your dream, so it was time I went after mine.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, “Why’d you come here, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. One last hurrah for when we were all in college? For freshman year when the future seemed so bright? For when I still thought having a good job in a good city with a guy who loves me would make me happy, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong city with the wrong guy?”

You get up before Brock can answer and leave him sitting on the dock in the dark. 

Morning comes, and you’re not sure the conversation with Brock even happened, except for the fact that Brock is alternating between watching you intently and refusing to make eye contact. Chris makes everyone breakfast, and you now understand why everyone was calling him Dad. You settle next to Troy, lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Did I somehow do something to make Petey not like me?” you ask, watching him talk quietly to Brock at the other end of the table. 

“Nah,” Stetch says, taking a bite of bacon. “His English still isn’t great, and his default resting face makes it look like he hates everyone.” He pauses, takes another bite. “Well, and the fact that you broke our boy Brock’s heart. He’s sensitive, don’t ya know?” His tone is light, teasing, but his words make you freeze.

You gasp, too loud for the morning air. A couple people glance over at you, but you’re turning to Stetch, who at least looks like he realizes his mistake.

“Brock broke up with me,” you hiss.

Troy barely glances down the table at Brock, but you still catch it. For a split second, you consider just getting up and leaving, but settle for glaring at Brock, who doesn’t look up. His cheeks still flush like he can feel your eyes on him.

“I no longer want to be a part of this conversation,” Stetch says, making a move to get up, but you grab his wrist. He winces but stays sitting. “Look, he came back for his rookie year and was always kinda quiet-” You scoff. “-but none of us asked any questions, and then after All-Star he said you’d stopped responding to his texts.” Stetch finishes with a shrug. 

“I stopped answering because I was still in love with him and stuck in North Dakota after he broke up with me that summer, dumbass. What the hell else was I supposed to do after he told me he wished I were at the All-Star Game with him? I was never going to be able to follow Brock to Vancouver, and he made it pretty clear he never really wanted me to, anyway.”

You didn’t realize that most of the conversations around the table had gone quiet until it was too late. Brock had gone pale. You had never wanted a confrontation, not here, but it was looking inevitable. Everyone else seemed to sense this, too, because soon the table was cleared, and it was just you and Brock. 

“Why do you stay if you’re not happy?” is what Brock says first.

“I- what?”

Brock smiles at you, but it’s sad. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“I am happy,” you say, defensive. And you are, or you will be one day, once you can finally stop thinking about Brock, about all the what-ifs, the possibilities that are long gone. You were getting there, too, before you came back to Minnesota for this weekend and everything came crashing down around your ears. Still, maybe this is the closure you needed.

“Oh yeah?” Brock says in return, and it's a taunt, really, mean in a way that he’s never been with you.

“Since when do you have any right to my happiness? What do you want me to say, Brock? That I always knew we were never meant to work out, but I fell in love with you anyway? That I went to D.C. and got everything I wanted, but once I had it, it didn’t seem right anymore? They say you never forget your first love, and, dammit, it’s really hard when yours is living his dream and tearing it up in the NHL. Is that what you want to hear, Brock? That I’ll never really get over you, even as I fall in love again, resign myself to the fact that someone else is going to fall in love with you someday, and be everything for you I couldn’t?”

Brock is frozen at the other end of the table. You want to jump in the lake, stay underwater until your lungs burn and your tears are hidden. You want to get in your rental car and drive, drive all the way to Minneapolis and keep going until you’re out of Minnesota and never look back. You want to kiss Brock, for old time’s sake, and you never want to see his face again. 

He still hasn’t said anything, so you turn and go inside, past everyone pretending like they hadn’t just been watching everything. You’re throwing everything back in your bag when Brock stumbles up the stairs. You pause, cross your arms, and raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Shit, wait,” he pants.

You can’t hold back the smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be a professional athlete?” you say, almost without thinking. 

Brock flips you off as he leans against the doorframe, but it’s half-hearted. 

“You can’t just say shit like that and then fucking walk away,” he says, and it comes out more like a whine. “I just- I had no idea. Should’ve probably, yeah, but-” he stops, collects his thoughts. “What did you mean when you said you could never follow me to Vancouver?”

“Would you even have asked,” you say, which isn’t an answer at all.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about all of your plans, and I never wanted to stop you. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to follow me.” And, finally, for the first time in years, it seems like you two understand each other.

“Of course I did,” you say softly, and Brock looks up at you, surprised. “I just didn’t know that then. And then I didn’t think you wanted me, not when I was just some girl from college.”

“You were never just some girl from college,” Brock says quickly. He rolls his eyes. “You wanna know why I asked if you were happy? You cut your hair.” Brock sounds pained, and you remember all the times he would play with your hair while you cuddled on the couch or in bed. “Since when do you change something like that for a guy?”

“And I wouldn’t have had to change for you? After I’d graduated, if you wanted me to come to Vancouver for you?” 

Brock’s recoils, your words like a slap to the face, but it’s not as vindicating as you thought it would be. “It’s not just the hair. It’s the way you talk, the way you smile. What happened to the girl I knew?”

And that’s the problem. You’re not the girl he knew, not anymore. You’ve both grown up, lived life a little more. You might still love Brock, but you love the Brock from North Dakota, not the one who’s been in Vancouver for two years. You don’t know that Brock, and maybe you could love him, but that’s not for you to find out. It’s not fair to anyone. It just took you coming out to the lake to realize that. 

So you smile at Brock and say, “She got her heart broken and left North Dakota behind.” But you follow Brock back downstairs, spend the day out on the water, feeling settled for the first time since you got there, maybe since you had last spoken to Brock way back in 2018. 

That town, that job, that guy You can leave them behind, girl, you know you’re better than that

The boys build a bonfire after dinner, as the sun sets over the lake, and someone breaks out the ingredients for s’mores. 

“Y’know,” Brock says, resting his hand on your knee after you’ve settled into a chair. His hand is warm through the blanket draped over your lap. “For what it’s worth, there would always be a place for you in Vancouver.” 

Maybe there would be, but you weren’t sure that that place was somewhere you belonged. You don’t say that, though, just settle your feet in Brock’s lap and take the marshmallow that’s being offered to you. 

There’s a life waiting for you on the other side of the continent, and it just might be the one you were always meant to have. 

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: three

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.0k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, blood, discussion of kidnapping

Dinner is a quiet affair, the three of you sitting in the penthouse’s dining room while a personal chef serves you. The food is delicious, and for a moment, you’re yet again jealous of Kageyama for having all of this at his disposal. Pre-packaged bentos and junk food are the norm for you, so you would kill to have a personal chef. 

“So, y/n, what are you up to now?” Miwa spears a piece of chicken with her fork as she speaks, her eyes locked on you.

You can’t help the smile that comes to your face. “I’m sure you already know.”

She has the foresight to look slightly disappointed. “True, but I want to hear it from you.”

You sigh, taking another bite. “I’m in college at Tokyo University, just started my fourth year. Going pre-med. My best friend is finishing up nursing school. I intern at a research lab on campus, but that’s about it for extracurriculars. Most of my time is spent doing homework and applying to medical school now, anyway.”

“Fun, I guess?”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

Miwa tilts her head. “Why do you do it, then?”

Contemplating, you pause for a second. Why are you doing all of this? “I want to be a doctor, and these are just the steps for getting there. I do what I have to do.”

She nods in understanding. “You need a break sometime, though. We should hangout sometime, go shopping and whatnot.”

Kageyama, who has been silent during the entire conversation, finally speaks. “You just want to spend my money.”

Miwa reaches across the table to swat at her brother, who avoids her hand by quickly sliding his chair back. “So what if I do? You have so much of it and you never do anything with it. Someone needs to put it to good use, and I’m sure y/n and I can do that.”

Kageyama accepts his defeat with a blank stare. “Fine.”

Miwa squeals in delight and you laugh along with her. “When are you free? I spotted this gorgeous Balmain dress that I’ve had my eye on for awhile, and last time I was in Versace, I found this beautiful zip-up mini, but I didn’t like how it looked on me. I think you would look amazing in it!”

You give her an incredulous look. “I’m free tomorrow, but I’m not quite sure that I could afford that.”

Miwa gasps. “Don’t worry about that, we’re using Tobio’s money.”

The man in question just sighs.

“I couldn’t use his money-”

“Just do it.” Your eyes snap to Kageyama, who seems ready to say anything for this conversation to be over.

“There’s no way, I-”

“Just use the money, y/n. Miwa’s right anyway, I really have too much money that I’ll never use. I’ll give you my black card.”

Your eyes widen. “I really can’t let you do that.”

“Y/n, I have three billion dollars sitting in an account that I never touch. I can afford a shopping spree for you and my sister.”

You truly can’t believe that you’re sitting in front of a billionaire. You figured Kageyama was rich, but this rich? You want to ask him how he did it (you know the answer) or if he can pay for your medical school tuition instead, but what comes out of your mouth is: “Three billion?”

“Yes. Consider it an apology for this mess I’ve gotten you into.” He takes out his wallet and slides a card across the table. “If there isn’t at least a hundred thousand missing from the account, I’ll custom order something for you.” He stands, turning towards the stairs, leaving you slack-jawed and stunned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish up. Y/n, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow when Miwa inevitably drags you back here to try on everything.”

Speechless, you turn to Miwa, who looks smug and delighted. When you finally regain the ability to talk, all you can do is pick up the weighted credit card and whisper, “What the fuck.”

---

The next day, you step outside of your apartment and see a nondescript black sedan parked on the street. You laugh a little to yourself before snapping a pic and messaging it to Kageyama with the caption “you won’t even know they’re there, he said”.

---

When Miwa picks you up in her Lexus after your morning lab, it’s with a coffee and croissant in hand. You sink into the seat, sipping your coffee as she drives off. 

“Thank you so much. I can’t believe you remembered my coffee order after all this time.”

She grins sheepishly. “It was in the file.”

“S-Seriously?” you sputter, “He has that kind of shit in my file?”

“He has all sorts of shit in that file.”

You shake your head. “At least if I get kidnapped, they’ll know my coffee order.”

“Hey, about that,” Miwa parks and turns to look at you, “are you alright? I know it’s probably pretty scary, knowing that someone has all that information about you and could use it against you at any moment.”

“I think I’m alright. I mean, I knew it would always be a possibility.”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure. If you ever need to talk about it, you have my number.”

You give her a smile. “Thank you, Miwa.”

“Of course. Now let’s go shopping.”

---

You’re starting to question how Kageyama has any money at all. Miwa is a menace when shopping, dragging you from store to store, every clerk greeting her by name and suggesting anything new they have to fit her tastes. She was right, her Balmain dress is gorgeous, and you tell her so when she models it for you. She brings you to Versace to show you the zip-up mini, and you immediately fall in love. It’s a gorgeous dress, black with gold accents. 

Paying for it, however, is another story. You feel so guilty when you hand over the black card, you almost tell the clerk that you’ve changed your mind. The only thing that stops you is Miwa standing next to you, her eyes encouraging you and reminding you that if you don’t spend the money, Kageyama will do it for you.

“Do you wanna stay over tonight? Tobio’s working late, and I’ve honestly missed spending time with you. You’ve always been like a little sister to me.”

Miwa’s words take you by surprise. You always thought that she hated you after you walked away from Kageyama, but her actions so far have shown the complete opposite. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you guys.”

“Of course I’m sure.” Her smile is bright as she leads you to the next store. “We have two guest rooms in the penthouse, and I want to have a girls night.”

“That honestly sounds amazing.” Hana’s on night shift again tonight, and you would much rather spend your evening with Miwa than in an empty apartment.

“Great, I’m glad.” Miwa’s smile disappears as she browses a rack of blouses. “Honestly, I don’t have that many friends. It’s hard to keep them, doing what we do, and I’m always with Tobio anyway. It’s so nice to have a girl to talk to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. This is probably the first time I’ve hung out with a friend in over a year.” Miwa’s sadness shows in her eyes, and you feel awful for her. She’s always there for her brother, putting him before herself. 

You pull her in for a hug. “I don’t want to say that I’m glad the files were hacked, but I am glad that you are back in my life again.”

“Me too.”

---

Somehow, Miwa convinces you to get matching silk robes for your girls’ night, along with enough skincare and spa products to last for weeks. You’re exhausted by the time you’re finally done shopping, satisfied with your purchases but still feeling slightly guilty. The numerous shopping bags are put into the car, and soon enough, you’re heading back to the penthouse.

When you arrive, the sun has already set, and she ushers you into her bedroom to try on everything you bought, just as Kageyama predicted. All in all, you made out pretty well, with two purses, two pairs of Louboutins (one pair for Hana, of course), numerous clubbing outfits, and some nicer clothes for med school interviews. Miwa claps and cheers as you twirl and spin, gushing over your new outfits. 

“You look so gorgeous, y/n.”

This time, she’s referring to the robe that matches hers. It’s truly an extravagant thing, long and flowing with silk and lace. It feels nonexistent on your skin, and you think that if you had to pick one thing to wear for the rest of your life, it would be this. 

“Thank you.” You’re blushing slightly as you twirl in front of the mirror. You’ve never worn anything like this before.

“Just wait ‘til Tobio comes home and sees you in it.”

Your head snaps up and your cheeks turn bright red as you rush over to a giggling Miwa, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say things like that.”

You remove your hand slowly, and immediately regret it. “Why? It’s true. He’s probably going to blush as hard as you are right now and spend the rest of the night in his room, avoiding you.”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “No he won’t.”

“Uh, yeah, he will.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes! He’s still in love with you! Of course he’s gonna go crazy!”

“He’s what?” You’re in disbelief, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. It’s hard to believe that Kageyama would love any part of you after you left when he announced his move to Tokyo and his future plans. 

Miwa puts her hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes. “He still loves you, y/n. He never stopped.”

“How is that even possible? I left him.”

“Oh, babe.” She leads you to sit on the edge of her bed as you wipe your eyes. “He never blamed you for that, not once. He knew that you weren’t going to be able to be with him when he told you. He’s kept an eye on you for the past four years because he can’t let you go. I kept telling him that he couldn’t keep it up forever, but then you were in the club that night, and I swear, it was fate. Y’know,” she chuckles lightly, “that night, after he saw you, he came straight up here and sat on the couch for hours, staring out the window. When I finally finished my shift and came up, he was crying. You can’t tell anyone though, because he’s supposed to be this big bad guy and all,” she waves her hand, “but that was the most emotional I’ve seen him in years.”

“Really?” Your voice breaks when you speak, and your tears haven’t stopped. 

“Yes. He’s always loved you, and although the circumstances aren’t ideal, I think it’s wonderful that you’re back in his life again.”

You nod. “I missed him, and I still love him, but I don’t know if I can be with him. This is all still so unfamiliar to me, and it’s scary. I have to figure out if it’s worth it.”

Miwa rubs small circles on your back. “I know. Take as much time as you need. I’m just glad you’re here, and I know Tobio is too.”

---

After the emotional rollercoaster in Miwa’s bedroom, you two went downstairs to the living area, ordering takeout and putting on face masks. You lounged on the couch, eating ramen and watching k-dramas until late in the evening. You didn’t ask when Kageyama would be home; you simply enjoyed your time with Miwa. It was nice, spending time with someone that you once considered a sister. You were thrilled that you could hopefully regain that relationship with her. 

At around eleven, the elevator dings, signaling someone’s arrival. 

Your jaw drops as Kageyama Tobio stumbles into the penthouse, one hand clutching his bleeding chest, as he passes out in the foyer.

taglist: @lilith412426​ 

[frogtanii]

It’s wind anon! Who...did not finish reactions yesterday hahhhh

Orz

The need to deal with school work...and also the fact wind anon has the need to take a nap any time of the day. Sleep... zzzzzz. Have a test and such tomorrow and another test on Thursday so I be busy...gonna do my best...get good grades...

But, might as well do a short reaction, at least on the outfits! Specifically Meiko’s! Okay, so I don’t want to comment on the blandness of her caption for the image. And uh, I don’t know what she is referring to by the styled by stuff but I got the gist by looking at the answers to the asks and stuff. Okay, so looking purely at her dress. I get what they were going for, but the shape is not flattering. Wind anon has to give credit where credit is, Meiko is fairly tall (in wind anon’s opinion) and she does diet and stuff and have a thin figure, so her proportions are decent. But the dress...all the mixed vibes. The black portions of it make her look real old, and that belt thing is not cutting it for me. It’s like...not cinching in her waist properly (which is what belts should do—>adjust fit and accentuate).

Besides that, the rest of the cloth. I think the navy is actually a good choice, but the sheen that comes with the square pattern...no no no. Eye catching in the worst of ways. The fact that it comes in that sort of pattern makes the dress look a bit more cheap, and it’s just...a lot.

Besides that, looking at Osamu’s outfit, Meiko’s is far too...gaudy. (Not meant to insult the person in the image wearing the dress or the people who made it—just trying to give my honest opinion on the suitability of the outfit and such). Osamu’s is nice—Black, clean lines, subtle, catches a bit of interest with the pendant/necklace. Thus, Meiko would have worked with an elegant and tasteful outfit.

Let’s keep the navy color as the base okay? So, we already have a general idea of what YN is wearing, and her dress has a slit in it, like the one Meiko has right now. Rather than having them both with that, I think Meiko’s should be regular, mid-thigh end with no slit. (Honestly, I think like...2 inches above knee would work quite well but we know Meiko is the type to flash more skin so, mid-thigh). I’m thinking skirt with a bit more volume, goes out a bit rather than skin tight like some of Meiko’s other stuff. Like it flares out before you get to the hips? But the top of the dress is still sculpting out the waist and bust a bit. Off the shoulder straps. Shoulders and arms be uncovered that way. And instead of being plain, it’s navy with navy lace. Maybe add some subtle silver thread embroidery at parts. But I think it would work fine without that. But to add interest, both the off shoulder straps and bottom of the skirt aren’t just straight, maybe like, scalloped edge idea with the lace. And of course, have Meiko with a necklace that pairs with Osamu’s.

For hair, pin it up. You can be more glamorous with it because the dress is low key and elegant. Say, some blue flower and pearl hair accessories. Y’know? Like hair carefully braided in bun near the top of her head, a couple strands around the face to frame it, the flowers inserted between the bun and the rest of her hair, then the pearls in select places to give attention (maybe the pearls in individual pins...). But it honestly would be okay if you just had a lace ribbon that matched the dress well enough—cohesion is important with outfit planning. Earrings could either be diamond/sapphire studs or pearl. Though something like an ear cuff and some thin falling earrings would also look nice.

I’m thinking like, lace wrist cuffs/bands would be cute. But not necessary. Would be nice to see some dark blue, shiny nail polish on those fingers though.

...ugh, she just...could’ve looked so good next to Osamu like this. Wind anon giving the eyebrow of judgement. They would also contrast with YN and Sakusa in the best of ways.

And before I forget, footwear. No stilettos. Nothing too tall. 3 inches at most. Dark heels, with a reasonably sized heel and a strap either at ankle or in front, doesn’t matter, just shoes that are plain in a sense, but elegant and chic and comfy for walking and stuff.

Wind anon is wrangling outfit with one hand at this rate. Like, there’s tons of lights at these types of events. The dress rn will make you look like very pixelated glowing TV screen when it’s in the dark. With the suggestion I’m making like—the pleasant sheen from the pearls, the tasteful glimmer from the earrings and necklace, the delicate lace that doesn’t distract from dewy skin—please, wind anon cannot stand what she’s trying to pull off rn when wind anon has this idea right here.

But okay, wind anon is done. Wind anon is gonna sleep, wake up, get through the day like she always does.

Done with the fashion ramble. Anyway, ending thoughts. Unicorn anon saying we can all marry each other... first time Wind anon ever got that sort of proposal. Flattering, flustering, and yet I sorta won’t mind the platonic affection. Hm, decisions~

Anyway, do take care of yourself fr0ggy! Drink plenty or water and other fluids, eat fruits and veggies, and sleep lots! I wish you very very well <3

hi wind nonnie!!! pls get some sleep >:( i hope ur test goes well <3333 &&& i rlly love how detailed u were in redesigning meiko’s outfit???? v much swag v much cool KSJSK also i wouldn’t mind giving u some (platonic) affection!!!! u deserve it kith kith <333

[adenei]

Ahhh i’m in love with your entire page!!! Could we maybe see Hermione discovering Ron’s baby pictures? I think that would be so cute!

Hi anon! Thank you so much! So I combined this one with another prompt in my ask box (Molly catching Ron & Hermione in a heated snogging session). Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the ask

************************************************

(Un)Welcome Interruptions

Hermione had chosen to stay in while Harry, Ron and Ginny went out for a fly. She’d made herself cozy on Ron’s bed, settling into a historical fiction book she’d checked out of the local library in Ottery St. Catchpole. She was still staying with the Weasley’s while her parents worked on packing up their life in Australia and prepared to move back home at the beginning of August.

As she was reading, the door opened and Ron walked in, “Hey,” he said as he shut the door behind him and walked over to join her on the bed.

“I thought you were going for a fly..?” Hermione asked him.

“I did, but then I decided I’d rather be with you, unless...did you want to be alone?” Ron waited for her response.

Hermione shut her book and moved over to make room for him. “Not at all! I’m glad you came back. We barely get much alone time,” she said as she smiled.

“I think Ginny was thinking the same thing when she told me to shove off after a few laps. Not that I want to think about them…” Ron trailed off as he made a disgusted look on his face. 

“Then don’t,” Hermione said as she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him gently over her. 

Ron wasted no time letting his lips meet hers. He still had a hard time believing he could do this whenever he wanted. Well, mostly whenever he wanted. Everytime they snogged, they fell into an easy rhythm, and it just felt like they fit together. With Lavender, it was always a struggle to know what she wanted and when she wanted it. But with Hermione, he just knew by the way she’d sink into him, or pull him closer, or with the little whimpers that her voice would make as he deepened the kiss.

One of those instances was right now. He heard her almost purr into him, and he opened his mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to graze her bottom lip before he gently pushed it into her mouth. Hermione tilted her head back, letting him in eagerly, and meeting his with her own. Their tongues danced as he felt Hermione’s hands slide under his shirt and up his back. He felt himself harden and pushed gently into her leg so she could feel what she was doing to him. 

Ron used his one arm to prop himself up so he wouldn’t crush her delicate form, while the other hand moved up her torso and settled on her breast. He reluctantly moved his mouth away from hers and made his way down to her neck, stopping to nibble on her ear lobe and continuing on until he found the tender spot just above her shoulder he knew she liked. Hermione’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she let out a soft moan.

Neither of them were aware that the door had opened until they heard Mrs. Weasley say, “Hermione, I found something I thought you might want to- OH DEAR HEAVENS!” as Ron and Hermione jumped apart faster than you could say magic. 

“Honestly, you two! At least have the sense to silence or lock the door! Not that you two should be doing that anyways, you’re far too young! Only eighteen!” Mrs. Weasley was not ashamed in the slightest as she was scolding them for their carelessness.

Well at least all our clothes were on, was the only thing Ron could think of as he righted himself. Why couldn’t she have walked in on Harry and Ginny?

Mrs. Weasley continued to drone on. “Yes, there will be none of that under my roof. Not until you’re married at least. If Bill and Fleur can follow the rules…” she clucked her tongue at them. Yeah, right, Ron thought.

“Speaking of, Hermione I thought you might like to look through this.” She handed her the book. “This door stays open!” Without another word, Mrs. Weasley took off down the stairs leaving them alone again, but with the mystery book.

“What is it?” Hermione asked as she flipped it over. It looked old and well worn, and handmade too, almost like a-

“Oh, no Hermione you can’t look at those!” Ron said as he made to grab for the book.

She swiftly moved it out of his way. “And why not?”

“Because it’s my baby book. You don’t really want to see baby pictures, do you?”

“Are you being serious right now? Of course I do!” Hermione said as she laughed.

“No!” Ron was still attempting to grab at the book.

“I don’t think so! You can either let me look at them here with you, or I’ll go down to Ginny’s room and admire your cute baby bottom in private,” she said as she gave him a wicked grin.

“You’re awful, y’know that?”

“Oh, but you love it,” she teased.

“I do,” Ron admitted.

“So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but only if I get to see yours when your parents return,” he bargained.

Hermione hadn’t really thought about that implication, but reluctantly agreed regardless. She began combing carefully through the pages, reading the captions that went along with each photograph. “Wow, you were long even out of the womb, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I was,” Ron shrugged. “I didn’t realize Mum had all of these. Not sure when she had the time to make the book with four of us being five and under running around the house like terrors.”

“I’m sure if she didn’t make it when you were a baby, she kept the photos and was able to get to it when it was a bit quieter around here. It’s got everything here, too!” Hermione noticed.

She was right, everything from monthly pictures, to his first solid food, crawling, first steps, the infamous bathtub photo every parent managed to get, and his first words were even written down. 

“Well, I guess there’s nothing too embarrassing in there,” Ron said as he watched the baby pictures slowly morph into him as a toddler, then to a young boy. The most well worn picture of them all was the one of Ron and his dad at the Chudley Cannons game.

“You were such a cute baby,” Hermione gushed.

“Yeah, not really sure what happened,” Ron let out a chuckle at his own poorly made joke.

“You turned into a handsome adult, that’s what,” Hermione smiled lovingly at him. “I hope our kids are this cute,” she continued without thinking. When she realized what she’d said, she tried to backtrack as her face felt like it was on fire. “Oh! I didn’t mean- Not that I-”

Hermione didn’t realize that Ron’s initial shock had turned into a shy grin at Hermione’s flusteredness, “I hope so, too,” he told her.

“Really?” she said, her mouth forming that cute little surprised face he loved so much. 

“Well, yeah, ‘s long as you want them, too,” he said, taking the book from her and closing it before placing it gently on the floor. 

“I do eventually, I think, yes,” Hermione was still flustered, not expecting to have that conversation right now. 

Ron leaned in and kissed her tenderly, “Now, where were we?” 

[flowersandskeletons526]

“Doubts” - Lumity Fanfic

This was a short drabble I banged out in a few days so please forgive me if it’s a little shaky or rushed. It has been quite a while since I finished a fanfic

----

Amity presses her thumbs together, leaning forward with her elbows on her desk. A textbook sits beside her, untouched for the past three discussion topics, and a pencil rests idly between her fingers. The abomination professor drones on at the front of the room. Were it any other day, her attention would be on him as she diligently took her notes, but not now. 

To her right, Luz carefully draws more glyphs in her notepad for future use. Her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth, and her eyebrows draw together as she finishes another. Amity thinks it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. She watches Luz from the corner of her eye and tries her best to make her staring look like anything else. She counts her lucky stars that the human girl is so fixated on her drawings.

“Miss Blight!” the professor barks. Amity snaps upright and drops her pencil off the side of her desk. The entire class turns to look at her, Luz included, and her face becomes hotter than the surface of the sun. “Is my lecture not interesting enough to warrant your attention?”

Amity swallows hard. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

The teacher narrows his eyes. “See me after class.” 

A chorus of oohs goes up from the class. Luz stares at her quizzically. Amity sets fire to the paper of the boy closest to her and effectively silences all of them. 

She forces her eyes to stay forward for the rest of the period. While everyone else leaves, she clutches her books like a shield in front of her and goes to face the professor. 

He raises an eyebrow at her. She clenches her jaw. “You haven’t been paying attention in class lately,” he says. “What is going on with you? You’re always a model student.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ve just been distracted.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. You’re not very subtle, Miss Blight.”

Her face goes red. “Y-You have?”

“Yes, I have.” He pauses, and Amity’s stomach turns over. “You’re nervous about the exam on Friday!”

Amity feels a weight lift off her shoulders. “Right! The exam! Yes, I am very nervous about that.”

The professor laughs. “With your grades, you don’t have to be. Study like you normally do and you’ll do excellent. As long as you pay attention for the next few days, that is.”

“I will. Thank you.” 

Amity spins on her heel and all but runs out of the classroom. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she lets go of a heavy breath. She can’t imagine the embarrassment if her teacher of all people had outed her crush. 

She looks up and is greeted with wide brown eyes. “Amity!”

Amity squeaks and falls on her backside. “Can you stop doing that?!” she snaps. 

Luz flashes a beautiful bashful smile, grabbing Amity’s scattered books and offering a hand. “Sorry about that,” she laughs. The sound lifts Amity’s heart. “I just wanted to wait for you. Getting held after class is usually my deal.” 

Amity sighs. “It’s been a long day.” She reaches for her books.

Luz pulls back. “I’ll carry them for you! Sorry again for scaring you.”

Turning aside, Amity hides her red face. “It’s… fine. Thanks, Luz.” 

“Of course!” 

Amity starts down the hall with Luz bouncing along beside her. She keeps her head down, hiding her blush and avoiding Luz’s little glances in her direction. 

“Hey, so,” Luz begins, “I was looking around some of the old parts of the library and I found a book that I think could help me with finding more glyphs. I don’t really understand some of it, so I was wondering if maybe you could help me look over it?” 

“Oh, um, sure! I just need to make up an excuse for my parents.”

“Oh yeah. Owl house is forbidden. Right.” Luz stops in front of Amity, their faces inches apart. Amity’s heart jumps into her throat. “You will come over though?”

“Sure.” 

You know it’s not like you hope. Why would it be?

“Awesome! I have to go meet Gus and Willow, but I’ll see you tonight!” 

“Y-Yeah…” 

Amity takes her books numbly and watches Luz take off down the hall. Her lips curl into a smile as her heart flutters, but the feeling only lasts for a moment. She shakes her head to clear her thoughts and heads off to her next class. 

---

Sitting in her window, Amity pulls her legs to her chest and rests her head on her knees. The day had continued to crept by, and she has yet to find an excuse to sneak away to the owl house. It’s not like she can tell them she’s going to visit the wanted criminal and the human witch. 

Amity takes a breath and steels her resolve. A simple illusion spell shouldn’t be too hard, just enough for her to sneak out and sneak back in unnoticed. She runs headfirst into Edric and Emira standing outside her door. 

“Going somewhere, Mittens?” Edric chirps. 

“Study group,” Amity says, “if you two would get out of my way.”

“Study with who?” Emira asks. 

“Friends.” 

“Friends?”

“Yes, friends.”

Edric grins. “It’s the human, isn’t it?”

Amity bristles, going bright red as she looks down. The twins share a look. She rubs the back of her neck and swallows her pride. “Will you two please, y’know, cover for me? I just can’t-”

“Mittens, we get it.” Emira’s smug grin softens. “If you wanted to go hang out with your girlfriend, you could’ve just said so. I mean, study group? You couldn’t come up with something better?”

“S-She’s not my girlfriend!” Amity splutters. 

“With the way you two were at Grom? Could have fooled me.” 

“That wasn’t, I mean, we were just… ugh, shut up! And we are studying. I’m helping her understand a textbook.” She sighs and bites the inside of her cheek. “She doesn’t know, okay? And if either of you tell her, I’m going to drown you both!” 

Edric puts his hands up. “Hey, we’re not that cruel!”

Emira smirks. “And it’s not like we need to. If she hasn’t caught on by now, I don’t think she would believe us if we spelled it in twenty foot tall letters.” 

“Yeah, you’re not exactly subtle.”

Amity sighs. “That’s the second time I’ve been told that today.” 

If she hasn’t noticed by now, she doesn’t want to.

“We’re not surprised.” Edric ruffles her hair and nudges her down the hall. “We’ll cover.”

“Be home before nine,” Emira adds.

“Thanks, guys.” 

Amity gives them a grateful smile before hurrying out of the mansion. She does her best to keep out of sight until the owl house comes into view. Thoughts of Luz pop into her head, from her cheerful grin to her sparkling eyes to her excessive affection. She thinks of Luz’s hands on her waist as she catches her and spins her around. She thinks of pressing her face to Luz’s neck as she carries her to the healer’s. Her mind conjures the thought of Luz holding onto her, hands cupping her face as her chest tightens and their lips meet and-

Amity stumbles.

You’re making a fool of yourself.

Shaking her head, she squashes her racing heart and approaches the house. She somehow manages to forget about the bird tube until it flies out of the door at her.

“Hiiii Amity! Luz is inside!”

Amity squawks and falls back. Growling, she lifts a leg to kick the stupid guardian in the face. 

“Hooty! Stop it!” Luz waves him away, and he retreats back into the door. Flashing that sparkling smile, she takes Amity’s hand and pulls her to her feet. “Sorry about him.”

“I told you, I’m going to destroy it the next time it talks to me,” Amity snarls. 

Luz laughs nervously and takes Amity’s hands in hers, stopping her from casting any spells. Amity’s face grows hot as she avoids those wide puppy dog eyes. “Yeah, how about we save the destruction for another day?” 

“Next time you’re not stopping me.” 

“Heard. Come on!” 

Luz pulls her inside and leads her to her bedroom. She plops down on a mat in the middle of the floor. Amity sits beside her. 

“I still don’t understand how you sleep here,” she remarks.

“It’s really not that bad,” Luz says. She opens a dusty book with a cracked cover in her lap. “I’m guessing it doesn’t compare to Blight Mansion, though.” 

Amity shrugs. “You’d be surprised.” 

Luz hums, drumming her fingers on the book. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Is your family the reason you work so hard to be top student?”

Amity sighs and pulls her knees up to her chest. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah.” Luz bumps their shoulders together and offers a gentle smile. “I’ve got you.” 

Amity smiles. “So, this is the book you wanted to show me?”

“Oh, yeah!” She brushes off the cover and opens it to a brittle yellow page marked with a folded up drawing of King. “So, I was looking it over and found all these weird drawings in it, but I can’t really understand the captions. This one sort of looks like the glyph for fire magic but it doesn’t quite fit, and this one I tried to draw but it didn’t do anything and the picture is faded so maybe I just didn’t…”

Amity can’t quite focus as Luz goes on. She finds herself staring as Luz’s eyes shine, alight with curiosity and excitement that lifts Amity’s heart. Resting her head on her knees, she watches Luz ramble, not listening in the slightest until Luz stops. 

“Hey, Amity, you listening?” 

“Hm? Oh! Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Man, you’re spacey today.”

“A little.”

Luz scoots closer. Amity freezes. Planting one hand behind the green haired girl, Luz leans over her shoulder and balances the book on their legs pressed together. “This is the one I couldn’t get. I tried drawing it but it didn’t do anything.” 

“What does it do?” 

“I don’t know.”

“You’re going to blow yourself up. Again.”

“Maybe!”

Amity laughs and looks at the page. “I can’t really tell. Maybe try drawing in more lines?”

“I don’t know if that will work, though. I don’t think they’ll do anything if I don’t draw them exactly right.”

“How do you draw them?”

“Here! I’ll show you.” Discarding the book, she grabs her pad and pencil and places that on Amity’s knee instead. “This is the light glyph that I showed you the first time. You just draw the circle and make a few shapes, add these lines, and once it’s done, you press it.”

She taps the drawing. The paper curls up into a ball of light that rises into the air above them. Amity watches, awestruck despite the simplicity of the spell. Luz sets the pencil on her leg and draws her back in.

“You try.” 

“Okay.” 

Amity draws the circle and makes the shapes, adds the lines and then erases them as Luz’s correction. She presses one finger into the center of the drawing. It glows and rises between them. Luz cups the light in her hand like she’s holding the sun, right beside Amity’s heart, and lifts it up to her. It casts gentle shadows across her face. 

She grins. “Magic.” 

Their eyes lock. Amity’s mouth outpaces her mind and readies her tongue before she can stop it. “Hey, Luz?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel like you’re doing the wrong thing?”

Her grin disappears. Amity wishes she had kept her mouth shut. Luz lowers her head, but she doesn’t pull away. “I do. A lot. I… don’t really fit in, in the human world. They think I’m weird. I’m not actually supposed to be here. My mom thinks I’m at a camp that will teach me how to act normal.” 

“Humans have that?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how I’m going to explain all this to her when I go back and I haven’t changed like she wants me to.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“I do have to go back eventually, Amity. I don’t want to, but I can’t disappear on her once the summer is over.”

Amity’s stomach drops.

You aren’t from the same world. You always forget that.

“I meant you don’t have to change.” 

Luz looks up. Their faces are inches apart. Amity cages the butterflies in her stomach and takes a deep breath. 

“I like you the way you are. I wouldn’t ever want you to change.” 

Luz doesn’t respond. She presses her face against Amity’s shoulder and sighs. Amity wraps an arm around her shoulders. She closes her eyes and buries her face in Luz’s hair, trying to keep her composure as the human girl shifts until she’s practically laying on Amity’s chest. 

“I like you, too,” Luz mumbles. “You’re my best friend.”

Ouch.

“You’re mine, too.” Amity holds her tighter. “You fit in here.”

“Amity.” Luz untangles from their embrace and lifts her head. “Do you ever feel like you’re going the wrong way?”

Amity avoids Luz’s eyes. “I go where I’m supposed to. Right or wrong doesn’t matter.”

“But what if you could choose?”

Luz catches Amity’s gaze and holds it. Everything feels too warm between them, and Amity struggles to align her thoughts. She could hardly function with Luz simply smiling at her, and now here they are, inches apart with Luz refusing to let her look away. 

“I would want to come here.”

“I want that, too.”

Without warning, Luz cups Amity’s cheek and presses their lips together. Amity bristles, eyes wide and disbelieving before she finally relaxes into the kiss. Her hands find Luz’s waist as Luz tangles her fingers in her hair. 

They stay close together when they break apart. Amity watches Luz with her eyes half closed as she holds her tight. 

“I like you,” Luz says. “I want to stay here with you. I don’t want to go.”

Amity tilts her head. Her face burns red as she presses another gentle peck to Luz’s lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.” Luz closes her eyes. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

She’ll only have to leave in the end.

“Do you think we can just stay here for now? No more picking where we have to go?”

You know that.

“Okay.” 

You’ll only get hurt.

Amity focuses on the girl in her arms, fears and paths and goodbyes and magic set aside for the moment. Luz wraps her arms around Amity’s neck and pulls them as close together as possible. Amity’s face burns. Her heart hammers away in her chest and drowns out all the doubts in her mind. She kisses the top of Luz’s head, and the human girl giggles against her chest. She grins. She can barely hear the nagging voice in the back of her mind, but still, she closes her eyes and prays.

Please, don’t let this hurt.

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

.

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

.

Continued in part 6!

[dxlansfxck]

Summary: Grayson just finished his speaker table and all you could think of was him fucking you right into it. But he wanted to share it with the world first, so you head over to Ethan for your annual movie night. But as soon as Grayson finds out about a specific Snap, the tables turned.

~~~

“Ethan, Y/N! C’mon, you can look now, it’s finished!”, Graysons deep voice was heard from outside, he kept you waiting long enough for it, hasn’t even allowed Ethan to take a look at his new table he built on his own. Ethan just rolled his eyes at his excited brother.  “I’m glad this is over, I thought I had to live with Bob the Builder for forever”, he giggled before standing up. “Now c’mon, don’t let the constructor himself wait.” You kept laughing until you’ve reached your boyfriend which stood proudly in front of a pretty nice table. “Look! I did this myself! I fucking built something with my own hands!” Grayson squeals while jumping up and down. “Babe, take a pic, please. I want to share this awesome piece of furniture. No, I don’t want to, I need to share it!”

He starts to pose like he hasn’t done anything different in his life and you can’t help but admire his features, his broad shoulders and chest, the fucking veins on his arms that made you week by just looking at them, his serious face that you just want to sit on and the thick thighs you love to ride. 

“And done.” You smile while showing him the pictures and help him decide which one to choose for his Instagram. “Oh, wait! Wait! I need to make a Snapchat tour on this, I want everyone to really see it, y’know?” Grayson fishes his phone out of his pants and opens the App, while you and Ethan get out of the room again, kind of annoyed by his behavior.

“He’s just happy, Y/N. Don’t be mad, he’ll show it to you after his community. You know how he is, fans come first”, he sighs, but not as annoyed as you thought he would be. “I know, I just… y’know, I got kinda… aroused when I saw him besides this table”, your cheeks flushed while your eyes scanned the floor to avoid any eye contact with your best friend. Ethan just laughs it off. “You got what? I mean, I built my own wardrobe, does this make me attractive too?” You just rolled your eyes. “E, the wardrobe was from IKEA and had literally ten pieces to screw together. But Gray, he took so much effort in his hands to get all the pieces and…”,”Ew, Y/N stop dripping on the couch. Calm down, Bob the Builder can still fuck you later on. Play one of your games, let him wait and tease him. He’ll be pinning you into your mattress in no matter of time. Now c’mon, put on some nice underwear and we’ll start movie night a bit earlier today!”

You did as he told you, took a shower, even shaved your legs and private parts, put on your best smelling lotion, your favorite pair of mint green lingerie and a pair of cheeky pajamas over it before braiding your hair into two thick braids. You didn’t apply make-up, of course not. It was your house as well, you’ve known the boys over ten years and even before starting to wear make-up at all.

“E, I’m ready! Put Moana on, I’ll prepare the snacks!” You walked in front of Grayson’s and your room, still hearing him rambling about his table. “An then I ordered this piece of wood, but I had to cut it down to the right size and..” You just shook your head before heading down to the kitchen, preparing popcorn and some apples with peanut butter for the health addict Ethan. For yourself, you popped some cookies in the microwave to get them extra soft and the chocolate to melt. “What do you want to drink? Water or anything else?” “Uh, I guess I’ll have some La Croix, do we have any left?” You rolled your eyes, but packed 3 cans of the soda underneath your arms, before trying to grab all the snacks without having to walk twice.

“Okay, here I am, let’s start the legendary Dolan & Y/L/N Disney Movie night!”, you popped down next to Ethan, handing him the La Croix before stretching your legs out on his lap. Soon, the wonderful soundtrack to your favorite movie fills your eyes and when you started your solo on ‘How far I’ll go’, Grayson was still in his room. Even after meeting Maui, Gray wasn’t there. The movie came to an end – of course you cried, like you always did, and Ethan had to comfort you with some cuddles – and you decided to put on the next one. This time, Ethan chose his favorite one, The Jungle Book. Your cookies and the popcorn were long gone, even your water bottle was empty to this point. “E, your turn to get new ones”, you softly kicked him in the stomach while trying to get him grab new snacks. “I can’t watch a movie without snacks, y’know that, bub.” You tried your best to pout, but he just laughed. “Fine, fine. But please don’t do this ever again, you look so funny.”

While Ethan prepared whatever kind of snacks he thought were healthy enough for a movie night, you laid down onto your stomach to check Grayson’s Snapchat. You clicked through his ‘tour’, not really watching any of it since you wanted to see it in real life first. Then, an Instagram notification popped up which made you click on it. ‘graysondolan just went live!’

“… and when I built it, I got to be honest, it kind of hurt my hands. I think I’ll have blisters by tomorrow, but it was so worth it. You should check out my Snapchat for a perfect tour of it. Well, I chose this brown toned wood because I thought it would perfectly match the speakers and I just put some vinyls on top, I know I don’t have enough to fill it all up yet, but…”, you sighed and closed the app as soon as Ethan came back. He started the movie and you kept cuddling into him, letting him scratch your back and massage your scalp. “Imma take a snap of this, maybe he’ll see what he’s missing.” You quickly shot a picture of the TV with the snacks and your tangled legs before captioning it ‘Dolan & Y/L/N Disney time with my best friend!’.

You watched the movie in complete silence, munching on the snacks and trying to forget about your boyfriend upstairs. As soon as the movie comes to an end, you stand up, even angrier than before, and start to clean up the mess you both made. “Alright, E, it’s enough. I don’t want to wait 4 hours for him to get ready. What the hell is he doing up there, masturbating to his fucking table? I can’t believe it. I can’t remember the last time I was so angry at him.” You stomped your feet on the ground, trying not to cry out in frustration. Ethan eyes you silently. “Calm down, Y/N. You’re just horny. I mean, I can totally understand you, even I am kinda pissed, ‘cause I haven’t seen the table yet as well.” He scratches the back of his head, not quite sure what to say, as he eyes your entire body. You wore one of Grayson’s shirts, of course, but had it tied in a knot just above your belly button. Your pants were those kinds of velvety shorts you could find all over the stores, that made your butt look really nice.

Even though he knew you were Grayson’s and he would never make a move on you, you were his best friend for gods sake, but you looked gorgeous and his brother seemed to miss a big thing.

“Let’s make him jealous”, you suggest, starring Ethan dead in the eye. “I already tried to with the snap, but he hasn’t even seen it by now. Maybe if you post one, your fans will show it to Gray and…” ”Y/N, do you listen to what you’re saying? He’s my brother and you’re my best friend. I don’t want to be the reason for a big fight, y’know. I don’t think we should do that. I mean, how the fuck could we make him jealous? I will never kiss you. Not that I wouldn’t like to, but y’know.” He laughed slightly uncomfortable, scratching the back of his head while looking at you. “You could massage my back like you often do, but this time film it and post it on your story. Maybe we’ll scrunch my shirt up so they can get a glimpse of my bra, Ethan, I don’t even know, I have never done something like this. But he pisses me off so much.” “Okay, fine. Just this time, okay? I don’t want anybody to think I’m the one that steals his twin’s girlfriend. Let’s get upstairs and lay down on my bead, I’ll get some stuff for movie number 3.” Of course, you were kinda surprised by his answer but started to run upstairs to switch into a cuter top that fit your shorts, it was a dark blue halter top, made from this velvety fabric and made your boobs look bigger than they usually were, caused by the push up bra you still wore underneath. One last check on your phone still showed that Gray was live on Instagram, huffing you closed the app and went straight to Ethan’s room. He put on the dark red color of his bed light, lit some candles and laid out some chocolate on the bed. “Lay down there, at least I want to look romantic.” He suggested while opening Titanic on Netflix. You were still nervous, haven’t done anything like that with Ethan, but you weren’t uncomfortable with him. You laid down on your stomach between the chocolate and huffed at the feeling of your boobs being squeezed on the matrass. “Hurry, E. This is not comfy at all.” You pushed your top upwards, revealing your back completely until the beginning of your bra. Ethan started to play the movie, sat down on your butt and started to actually massage you. “Relax, Y/N. I won’t fake something like this, if I’m doing it, I’m doing it right”, his warm hands massage something onto your back that smelled beautifully like roses. “Mhh, E, why are you good at this? What have I missed?”, you closed your eyes in satisfaction, trying not to moan out his name. It was difficult to not show any reactions, while those large hands kneaded your back. “I don’t know, maybe because Gray gets injured so much after lifting weights and before he had you, I had to massage his sore muscles”, he smirked as he pressed down onto a point between your shoulder blades. “Oh fuck, Ethan!”, you screamed out, instantly feeling the pain as he pressed onto your muscles. He laughed it off, trying to soothe the muscle while still rubbing gently over it. “Let loose, babygirl”, he mumbled but seemed to regret it directly. You almost moaned again at the nickname that Grayson usually gives you while pounding into you. “I.. Uh.. I mean…”, Ethan stumbles, trying to get off of you. “It’s okay, E. Don’t worry, I guess. Let’s just take the picture so we can lay down and cuddle, yeah?” He nodded, quickly grabbed his phone and filmed a short section of his left hand still massaging your back – your quiet purrs definitely noticeable. But what was most noticeable was the outline of his boner at the end of the video, that he didn’t see while posting it with a ‘wellness day with my bestie’.

Grayson on the other hand of course saw it – after he read so many massages in his live stream about it. He laughed it off in front of the camera, telling them it must be some kind of shadow, but he was fuming. Not only fuming, his body felt like he was on fire. He quickly ended the livestream, before preparing the room for whatever he’ll do to you soon. Without even trying to cool down before the confrontation, he screamed out for both of you while running over to his twin’s room. When he opened the door, he saw both of you cuddling, your head resting on Ethan’s lap, his fingers tangled into your hair and gently massaging your scalp while your nails lightly scratch the top of his thigh. What Grayson didn’t see were the tear stains on your face, the stuffed nose and the worried look on Ethan’s face as he saw his brother bursting in. Titanic was still on, but neither of you watched it really. Ethan was trying to calm you down, you were starring against the wall and Grayson just stood there and took the scene in. “What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening. Here”, he brought out, still fighting not to lose it. Your eyes wander up to meet Grayson’s beautiful face, but you didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want to feel the pain – and the thought that he chose social media over you. Sure, it was his job, but it was also just a fucking stupid table. You turned around to Ethan, your face buried in the crook of his neck, trying not to start crying again.

“Bro, you should leave her alone”, Ethan mumbles as he rubs your back, trying to comfort you. “Bullshit, that’s my girlfriend that you want to fuck! Why the fuck are you even in your bed instead of the couch in the living room? Why is she wearing THAT. Y/N you’re behaving like a slut, y’know that?” Grayson breaks out, screaming at the both of you as he takes a few large steps before standing right next to the bed. “And you call yourself a brother, wow, Ethan. Nice job. Now, let her go or I’ll get really angry. I said, let her fucking go!”, his fists clenched around nothing, he was really fighting it back, but as soon as you snuggled deeper into Ethan’s chest, silent sobs leaving your lips, he couldn’t hold it anymore. One of his fists swung right into Ethan’s face, bursting his lip and leaving 1you with a horrific scream.

“GRAYSON! What are you thinking you’re doing? You’re acting up.” Just in this moment, Ethan jumped up and directly onto his younger brother, swinging one fist after another. “She was crying because of you, dumbass. She was waiting for you, dressed up like this, but you never checked up on her! I had to calm her down for hours, I don’t want to fuck her, I want to be THERE for her, like you didn’t. She was crying because she wanted you to fuck her. Dude, you’re so stupid”, he stood up, trying to stop his lip from bleeding. Now it was your turn to stand up, grabbing Grayson by the hem of his shirt and dragging him over to your room. “You. Are. Such. A. Psychopath! I don’t know what to say, Gray. First of all, you hurt me. Psychically. Then you hit your own brother? That’s weak. And third, you were streaming for fucking 4 hours, that’s something you’ve never done. You chose them over me, while I was being all dressed up for you”, you threw your top over your head directly into his face, “I even dressed up for you, put on some nice underwear, but all you did was talking to THEM”, your shorts followed soon after. “I would never want to fuck Ethan, you know that. He wouldn’t dare to touch me. But I was about to touch myself as soon as I saw you next to this table, because you looked so fucking hot next to it. I wanted you to destroy me on it. Wanted you to cum all over it. But right now”, you shoved him down onto the sofa in front of the bed, “you’ll have to watch and wait. I’m doing what you couldn’t”, you’re walking up in front of his table, putting your favorite The 1975 vinyl on before laying down onto the bed, admiring your lingerie. You knew mint green was Grayson’s favorite color on your pale skin, he loved the lace on the thong disappearing between your peachy butt cheeks. The little bow at the hem in the back, the only thing that was seen above your ass. The bra was something different, it pushed your breasts to maximum without looking fake.

Your fingers wander on top of the cups, dipping in here and there, but never actually showing off your boobs. You looked your boyfriend dead in the eye while sucking on your thumb, teasing the skin of your stomach with the other hand. “I was so horny for you, babe. As I took those pictures of you, I wanted nothing more than your big hands around my throat and your thick thigh under my pussy. But all I have now are my tiny little fingers because you didn’t want to give me what I needed”, you pouted at him while slipping your hand into your thong, directly playing with your swollen clit. “Oh.” You closed your eyes at the feeling, sucking even harder on your thumb and rubbing fast circles in your panties. “Stop that show, Y/N”, Grayson stood up, eyeing you with dark eyes, the boner in his jeans very prominent. “No-uh, babe. Sit back down, I don’t want you right now, I can make myself feel so go-oooh”, you entered to fingers inside your aching pussy. You don’t want to tease him anymore, you just want to cum over and over again.

“There’s no way I’m just sitting here!” Grayson basically ripped your hand out of your panties, while throwing you over his shoulder. “You wanted me to fuck you on the table?” You nod without any hesitation, totally in for whatever he had up in his kinky mind. “You really want me to come all over it?” “Yes, Daddy. Want to make you feel so, so good.” He hums in agreement before playing you next to the record player, moving it aside before breaking anything. “Well, babygirl. Today’s your lucky day. I’ll come. You won’t because you behaved like a little slut and tried to make me jealous with my own twin brother. Tz, I don’t like to say it but I’m quite disappointed in you”, he shook his head as he watched you all spread out in front of him. Still wearing your lingerie, legs wide open and mouth hang open. Your face was red, still a bit stained by all of the tears you lost today, but he didn’t mind. At the end of the night, you’ll be crying and begging for more.

Grayson didn’t even bother to remove his shirt, he went straight for his belt, pulling it out of his jeans and watching you with a cocky grin before letting the leather slap against your inner thigh. “So, so disappointed”, slap after slap, thighs, stomach and even one on top of your bra. “Gray, please!” You screamed out, not quite sure whether it was because of the pain or the pleasure the pain gave you.

“Please what? Please fuck you? Please eat you out like the nice little girl you were? Do you really think I’m going to reward you? You were a whore, babe. Whores only get to pleasure whoever owns them – and we both know it’s not Ethan who owns you”, he shook his head while watching the leather prints turning darker any second. “I’m all yours, Daddy. Please, love me again! Please, please, please. I’ll be nice.” You looked at him as innocent as you could, you didn’t even want to fight for dominance, as soon as you were in the bedroom, Grayson would never let anyone be the dom.

“Would you just shut up, yeah? Use your dirty mouth to suck me off, would you? Oh, why am I even asking you”, he chuckled to himself while yanking down his pants and literally dragging you off the table. One hand around your throat, the other around your braids, he fed you his aching cock, making you gag on in several times but you had no choice – you actually loved it. Loved the tears burning in your eyes, loved the rough carpet underneath your knees and you loved the hateful gaze Grayson gave you. A grin formed on your lips as you let his dick fall out of your mouth and began spitting on it. “’m not hungry”, you brought out before the grip around your throat was actually so tight that it cut off any air. You both never went this far and it should probably scare you, but you’ve never been that wet in your life. Your juices were leaking through your thong, your scent filled the air.

Grayson held you up against the wall, your toes weren’t even touching the ground and all he touched was your fucking throat. You know you haven’t had much air left in your lungs, but you trusted Grayson. As soon as you saw his worried look for a short glimpse you just nodded it off, giving him a securing smile. He quickly pecked your lips, showing he wasn’t actually that angry and for sure didn’t hate you, before spitting directly onto your face. “You like that, slut? Do you think I’d like you to spit on my cock?” You shook your head no, not knowing what he was about to do. You got dizzy, grasping for air, as Grayson let you sink to the floor. “Now, try again. Better be good this time, princess”, he didn’t give you much time to fill your lungs up with air again, before choking you with his dick once again. You really did your best, trying to give him the best blowjob he’s ever had, but he pulled away too soon for your liking. Then, he threw you back onto the table while ending himself off, spurting his come all over you and his favorite piece of furniture. You tried to catch some of it with your tongue, but most of it landed right onto your stomach. Humming, you scooped it up with your finger before licking it clean. “So delicious, Daddy”, you smiled up at him, but his face was still not relaxed at all.

“Shut up. I don’t know what to do with you. I want to taste this delicious pussy, but I also want to fill it up and watch my cum drip out of you, what do you think?” “Mhh, both, Daddy. Need your tongue first.” Your hands cupped your still clothed tits, not sure if you were allowed to take it off yet. “Don’t want to destroy my favorite set of panties”, he said as he carefully slid it down your legs before spreading them once more. “You smell so good, so delicious, so sweet. But you weren’t a sweet girl today, princess”, he shook his head before giving your clit a single flick with his tongue. It felt like electricity jolted through your entire body, even though Grayson didn’t really do anything. He repeats the almost gentle gesture, moving his tongue back and forth, his nose almost disappearing inside your delicious folds. He loved eating you out, he ate you like it was his last meal, almost drowning in your juices, letting them soak his entire face. Once his tongue hit your desperate hole, you screamed out, ankles behind his head to press him further into you. His nose touched your clit, while his tongue was buried deep inside you, almost slurping up whatever you gave him. He quiets your next scream with his fingers, slipping two of them down your throat, chuckling at you gagging on them. You weren’t about to tell him that you were dangerously close, but of course he knew. He knew your body even better than his own, he had many years to study it and by now, he was perfect at it. All that was left of him were his fingers inside you. You mewled at him, still sucking on those long digits, trying to rub your legs together but he held your thighs wide open for him to see your pussy clenching around nothing. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and watched you with a devilish grin, before massaging your butthole with one of them, slicking it up with your spit and juices before sliding his middle finger directly into it. “Gray!”, you moaned, closing around his finger, not being distracted by the finger in your asshole, you were both into anal, it was nothing new to you, but usually he’d prepare you to what was happening.

You were about to rub your clit again as he began to move his finger, even trying to fit another one in there as well. “Open up for me, baby”, he cooed while dragging your bra down your breasts, playing with your pierced nipples and finally the pink ring of muscles allowed him to slip is ring finger in.

You looked up at his face, not quite sure how god could ever create such an angelic person with such a dirty mind. His jaw was clenched as he watched your asshole taking his fingers so well. His cock was rock hard again, ready to destroy whatever hole was next on his list. “Gray, please. Fuck me, I don’t care where, but I need you somewhere”, you whined as you pressed down on his fingers, lifting your hips against his face. He laughed, poking his tongue against your clit once more, while adding two fingers of his other hand into your aching pussy. “Fuck!” You screamed out once again, literally shaking on this fucking table. But as close as you were, he wouldn’t let you come again, removing both hands and his tongue from your body.

“Feels bad, huh?” He made fun of you, laughed you right in the face while watching his cum stain the table. “This will be hard to clean up, I think you should lick it off the table.” You raised your eyebrows at him, but he just pointed to the mess his cum made next to you. “Lick it off”, he demanded again. You couldn’t do anything but nod while turning around, your ass now facing him, and start to lick his cum off the wood. He grunts in appreciation before grabbing your hips, spitting onto your asshole and sliding his slick cock into it. “Such a good girl, babe, take it all. Fuck, you’re so tight”, his eyes closed while he clenched his jaw. Once he bottomed out, he starts to move, rubbing small circles on your clit to give you what you needed. “Feels good, princess?” “Yes, Daddy, thank you”, you moaned, desperate for an orgasm. “May I come now? Please? I’ve been so, so good to you.”

“Mh, I think you’ve earned it. You can come once this side of the vinyl is finished”, he grinned while still pounding into your tight ass. She lays down, was currently playing and to your luck, you knew that it was the last song. You could come after the next two minutes or so, which gave you another boost of energy. The song was way too slow to fuck you in the right rhythm, Grayson pounded relentlessly into you, not caring which track was on by now. “You’re the death of me, Y/N”, he whispered in your ear as he flipped you around, now disappearing into your pretty little pussy. “I can’t fucking hold it anymore, Gray”, you screamed out, pulling your own hair before holding onto your tits, massaging them and playfully pulling your nipples. “The song’s not over yet”, he taunted while ramming into you, his abs clenched, sweat not dribbling, but rinsing down from his forehead and chest. Your sight got dizzy once again, as he rubs your clit to the last few accords of the melody, making you squirt all over him as soon as the song came to an end. He quickly lifts your hips and opens his mouth for you to come all over him.

“Damn, babe”, he watched in amazement about how much liquid just squirted out of you as soon as he swallowed the load. His tongue collected everything that was left on your pussy, not wasting anything of the good liquid that he would kill for.

“Thank you, Daddy”, your eyes fell shut, sudden tiredness overcoming you as your muscles relaxed. “Now, c’mon, Y/N”, he cooed as he lifted you up bridal style. “Now I’ll take care of my girl, not that you need to run over to Ethan ever again”, he buried his face into your hair while walking over to the bathroom, filling a tub with warm water and letting a bath bomb fall inside.

“About the boner thing..” You giggled, but Grayson gave you a stern look. “I’ll never want to hear about that again!” And once you opened your Snapchat after a long bath, a relaxing back massage and maybe some more cookies, Ethan’s video was long gone, instead there was a picture of him with headphones under his blanket, his face scrunched up in disguise.  

[bedlamgames]

Q&A #100

Yes, been a hundred of this things. Totally a meaningless milestone which is one of my oldest tags on here (assuming any are left after the purge...) still I thought I’d do something for it. 

Specifically I’ve gone back over the old Q&A’s and found some favourite questions and answers which I’ll be including in this after the usual round of outstanding ones. Possibly also with some extra commentary where appropriate. 

Anonymous said: Hey. Any pair of characters connected by an Owned relationship/reputation seems to crash the game if you use either one of them on an assignment. Any chance of this being fixed?

- That should be sorted in yesterday’s update. 

Anonymous said: Got a Forest Goblin with both Dancer and Clumsy. This seems like a very strange combination, but imagining it kind of makes me want to laugh my head off.

- Agreed I think that just works due to being amusing. Less poetry in motion and more of a limerick. 

Anonymous said: In No Haven 0.871 the trait " Elementalist: Air " does not appear when using the estimate value function.

- Cheers for pointing out that oversight. Will sort.

Anonymous said: Hi sory english isn't my native langage, In No Have 0.871 TF Edition I have aquired a slaver But with a bug first i don't know how i acquire her and two she had noting , no name no perk jus a little description i will copy the full examine optin on it : - - - - ExamineName: Race: - Sex: - Status: - Reputation: Traits: Condition: 0 Will: 0 Estimated Value: 0 has a flat chest, a regular pussy, and has an unremarkable ass. She is the same size as most goblins, and .She is . 

- That looks like an empty character in all respects. I believe there was an issue with Ritual Casting where that could happen and is now sorted. If you see it happen again please let me know what you were doing when they appeared. 

Anonymous said: Hey Bedlam, watched stream where you discussed not selling slaves debuff, thing is i always imagined slavers being in this business for fun and pleasure first, and gold second. I mean why else would they agree to live in some Skyrim style, long abandoned really, hard to get to fort in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills and marshes(at least that how i imagine it)? So maybe you could make something like,"no new slaves, or slave training for X days, getting bored" or something like that?

- It wouldn’t be too harsh at all. Just a bit of a poke to encourage that you’re business model is based around being a slaver over the leader disappearing to the coast for a week and returning with suspiciously large amounts of gold. In that case you’ve got to think that your slavers might feel that they’re surplus to requirements :D

Anonymous said: I hope you're happy for taking so many hours of my life away from me lol. But playing this again; got a question about NH. Any plans on making some rival groups that we can interact with? Diplomacy, getting tribute, ect. It would be kinda cool to have rivals that push you along 

Glad you’re enjoying it! 

Likely yes. There’s ways currently now to set up a few ways to get tribute every so often. More groups though who are more hostile than the not-witches in the marshlands or the mistress of the Ensnared Rose are sure to be a thing sooner or later. 

doof-ex-machina said: Have you read the Gorean saga by John Nornan? If yes, did it influence your vision of the No Haven world? Gor explores a legal female-oriented slave system, yheah, but there are pretty close similarities with NH in regards to the numbers of ‘fodder’ and the ways of training. Anyway, me personally thinks your world is even better because magic and draenei/succubi boobs, duh.

I haven’t but I am aware of them in general. 

NH is a lot more equal opportunities than Gor where males doing it to females, females doing it to males, and all possible variations of that including others like futanari and sissies are likely to happen. Still high praise indeed, thanks!

And now onto some old questions starting with one from before where I realised beginning to combine these might be a good idea. 

onedrift from 2015:  Trying this again...what's your coder fuel of choice? Red bull, Monster, coffee? None of the above? Soon to be bimbofied slavemakers want to know!

- Heh, totally giving my nationality away (if it wasn’t blatantly obvious already) but the fuel of choice is copious amounts of Earl Grey tea.

Anonymous from 2015: Hiya, been a fan of your work for a long time, captions and games thanks for making them, but a question regarding whorelocks revenge, is it possible to get the tangle infection and bonds of insanity? in all my time playing them I never had either I dont think.

- Not in the current version. Basically I wasn’t happy with the implementation in terms of how they were removed so I disabled them for a bit till I can sort it out… which unfortunately has lasted quite some time.

Soon as I got this No Haven update done they’re top of my list of things to sort in Whorelocks.

(Oh zogging hell. Still not done that yet... Extenuating circumstance for sure with NH taking off and WR was still in RAGS at that point, but even so)

Anonymous from 2015: This is probably a poor place to respond to your open-ended poll question, but have you looked into Twine?

- I’ve looked at Twine and when I one day get round to Rough Landing 3 it’s definitely going to be done using it, but to me it looks like an incredibly poor fit for working on No Haven.

(Oh past me why would say such a thing even if it did make a lot of sense at the time. Let’s hope that guy was wrong)

Anonymous from Q&A #1: Title image is hype, cant wait for next update. recall you mentioned that you had enchantments planed for the update after next (or something there abouts) how far ahead have you planned ahead and any spoilers for the update after this one? :D

- Why thank you! I have several pages bullet pointed of what I have planned along with what I have in my head. For stuff not in the next update I’d say not counting more slave training assignments and options and more assignments in the other areas the big bits of content outstanding are;

Way more potions. (Still do do)

Enchantment/cursing of items system.  (Also still do do)

Crafting Devices. (Also, also still do do)

Ways to manage encampments when they get to large by sending slavers/slaves to new areas to provide ongoing gold/supplies along with the occasional assignment. (Oh dear, also, also still do do)

More stuff for you like going on every assignment, bad ends for some of them, more interactions, being enslaved and so on. Basically lots more sub and also some dom content for when you’re not managing the encampment. (Woo progress made! Bad ends for some assignments going on are indeed a thing. Still work to do as I do want to give Crossbones and Into the Depths the QAYL treatment sometime)

Special events that will occur every so often that will affect things be it for good and bad. This will include a way to get a lost slaver back though perhaps forever altered by their experiences. (Woo again this is done. Definitely could do with more done with)

Encampment reputation to reflect a slaver’s standing with how the other slaver’s see them. This will includes slavers becoming slaves and visa versa. (On a roll now as a great deal of this implemented)

More biomancy options and improving thanks to a multi-part assignment. There will also be other multi-part story based assignments. (Partially done and the biomancy multi-part assignment has been started)

And a bunch more basically but those are the priorities after this next update. Probably not all in the same update though.

Anonymous from Q&A #6: I would play the hell out of Paranoia set in No Haven.  

- Temptation to give slavers and you conflicting secret societies and agendas rising.

Y’know like…

Dire Panthers: A mottley band of young savage orcs, amazons and trolls out to raise hell by breaking stuff, setting stuff on fire and generally being a nuisance to everyone.

The Cooperative: A dedicated group of Frozen Queen cultists out to oppose the Human Empire by working together to make things better for the common people… till you know the Queen awakens and buries all the land in eternal ice.

Mage Smashers: Magic iz like wrong an’ stuff! We smash dem in dere stupid face till dey not so smart.

Fellowship-Fel: The denizens that lurk beyond our reality and infect our dreams with tainted nightmares are our friends! We must expose ourselves to as much corruption as possible to make ourselves like them. We see no flaws in this plan whatsoever, you see the chorus of whispers in our minds entirely agrees with us.

Psion: No changes need to be made whatsoever from the original version.

Trekksters: …and I think that’s enough of that, or further evidence of why I shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near RAGS or indeed tumblr when I have my old sourcebooks nearby :D

(Also apologies to most of you who have no idea what that was about!) (This is still far too much of a good idea)

Anonymous from Q&A #17: 2/2 and another hilarious one: Your succubus slave Jaeil was not looking so hot right now so Virholen just held her close and told Jaeil that everything would be alright. Jaeil was oddly quiet everytime you looked in on them and you wonder if they have resigned themselves to their fate. Condition: 45 (Change: 20) - Will: 47 (Change: 15)

After their mistreatment Jaeil sees no reason not to only care for them self as clearly no one else will leaving them hardened and even outright cruel. usc++

- You win best bug report in ages, that is beautiful :D

Anonymous from Q&A #37: Will there be other spirit races in the game besides wisps, such as undynes, gnomes, and dryads? And finally Im new to patreon. I decided to pay for the your character teir but ask for a unique because I dont really understand it. Is the “play your character” a scenario or what? And where do I go to talk with you on what I would like for it?

- True story, I had to google undyines and for ages I couldn’t work out what you were referring too as so many of the results were of that character from Undertale :D

Undines themselves would be no, but I do have a water spirit of a kind planned. (Still do!) Gnomes no, as I’m happy with Hakh Dwarven and the various Goblins as my short races. Dryads absolutely yes, and will be one of the advanced races. See the last Q&A for more details of those.

Thank you for your support! Those options are for those that want to play a specific character that isn’t available in the standard options or design a specific slaver that you can have in your encampment. If you want to see some examples of ones others have asked for before on the playable character front then Orc Wright Raptor, Lago’Mae Scholar or Goblin Underground Potioneer would be a good ones to look at to start off with.

As for the unique slavers then pretty much any of the slavers available under Strong Right Arm/Recruiter.

How much detail you want to go into is up to you. If you want to say oh I just want a Kitsune lady who likes to pole-dance then I’d put something together for your approval, or you can go full on detailing everything about them from their art, description, traits etc. and I’ll work with you to the point I’m happy having it as an option in the game. (Note: If you want an entirely new race like the Golems you need to go for the lore tier given the significantly larger amount of work involved)

For discussing please send me a message on patreon and we can take it further from there.

One thing to bare in mind is that patreon only charges at the end of the month, and so while I’m more than willing to talk it out, if you want to me to do a lot of work on your request I’m going to need to see a pledge go through first. It sucks I know, but this is the unfortunate reality of the internet that alas trust can only go so for.

I’m always happy to discuss things though, I really am, and some people have asked to pay some of their pledge upfront via paypal to get round this which is not a problem if that’s what you want to do.

valhallaimmortan from Q&A #47: I managed to get a elven smith who makes fancy armor that is usually masterwork quality, and equipped my ‘Basher’ Squad with it, the Basher’s are all Ogre’s who I recruited and I have a alchemist who seriously creeps me out with how many petrification potions he has been pumping out. I also like the Lago'mae Scholar how now the Lizard man is using her as his new project… poor Scholar… and I got to ask is it actually possible to recruit a keldan from the keldan mission in the city?

- I love this question, absolutely adore it, and you made the patron who requested the lizardman unique really happy when I mentioned it to them. If people want to send in their favourite/amusing/interesting slavers/slaves that have resulted from generation and gameplay I might do a tumblr post series on them called ‘Tell me about your Character’.

As to the question yes she should be on the critical result.

Anonymous from Q&A #61: Silly question. For clothing and armor, what in your mind is the major difference between micro, and impractical? I can’t really visualize a difference between the two when reading armor/clothing descriptions. Scandalously short is divergent enough that it creates its own image for me. The other two seem as if they would be interchangeable, but they aren’t since there is a distinction so what is it?

- Yay silly questions are always the best questions. Okay micro is where you have outfits that are recognizable bits of clothing but it’s incredibly brief so a skirt that’s more a belt than actually trying to cover anything whatsoever and/or a bikini top so teeny-weeny that it doesn’t even cover all of the nipples. Completely impractical though is the kind of clothing beloved by a certain kind of fantasy art which just doesn’t make any kind of sense whatsoever where looking good trumps any pretension of realism, and the only way it could stay on is either with copious amounts of glue or magic being involved.

Anonymous from Q&A #66: Hello again! I’m the guy who asked about the post-slave [slaver] titles. I’m going to very respectfully push the idea that ex-slaves should get unique titles. First, I honestly think having the unique titles is cooler. It’s more interesting to send a Chosen, an Acolyte, and a Hedge-Witch on an assignment than it is to send three Slavers. It’s a rarity thing, sort of? If you get a character who qualifies for one of those things, it’s a BIG DEAL. Secondly, it already changes with jobs, so…

- Alright, alright, you’ve twisted my arm :)

That should now be included for the most recent update along with a couple of new titles so that all of the more rare traits (not counting crafting ones) should have one. Let me know if there’s any issues as while it was a fairly straightforward change I didn’t get a chance to test that particular bit.

Thanks for reading and here’s to another hundred of these. 

[eerythingisshaka]

#SundaySweat

[Winston Duke x Reader]

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Smut, y’know?

A/N:  Congrats to Winston Duke on the Kimbo Slice biopic, will definitely be in attendance once all is said and done.  HOWEVER,  WInston Duke’s Insta stories are getting a little hot.  Very innocent, but HOT!  He’s working out, gaining some lbs, sweating his ass off, grunting through his reps and we are here for it!  So here is a fic based on a recent story he shared with us that he captioned #SundaySweat.  

Winston squats, thrusting the kettlebell in the air as he stands; repeating the motion over and over again.  Sweaty is an understatement to describe how much fluid his body is secreting under the strain of his personal training.  He is not bothered about looking too macho or saving face to make it look easy, no, he pushes himself to the brink; breaking his body for the pleasure of coming out on the other side fit for his new role that he has every intention of embodying to his fullest extent.  He grunts audibly as his muscles contract to power through his movements.  His eyes squinting as the perspiration overwhelmed his brow, running into his eyes with a burning sensation that only gives him more motivation to go on; if he ain’t dripping by the end of it, he wasn’t working hard enough.

Winston drops the kettlebell on the rubberized floor, howling without apology as his endorphins disseminates throughout his limbs.  That was his 3rd set of 20 completed after finishing his left side; he was planning for at least five total sets when his phone began to ring in his ears.

Going over to his phone, he picks it up to see your name displayed for a FaceTime request.  Winston, still catching his breath, takes the call.

“Hey, baby.”  he huffs.  

“What’s up with you?  I called you earlier, you didn’t pick up?”  you ask.  You knew he was in beast mode for his new movie, but you still bust his balls when you can.

“Well, I’m at the gym.  I have about 30 minutes left before I can get away.  Did you need something?”  he asks, wiping sweat from his face.

“Just you is all.”  you say with a sigh.  You look around a park as life goes on around you without a thought.  You took some time for yourself today doing laps around the park but you were so over today, and Winston is great at filling the boring parts of life.

“Aww, do you miss me, my love?”  He holds the phone up to his face a little closer for attempted privacy  as he spoke sweetly to you.

You nod, “Mhm...we’ve been like two ships passing in the night lately.  You get home, I’m sleep.  I wake up, you’re gone.  I can’t stand this type of scheduling for you.”

He nods, blinking slowly, “I know (Y/N), it’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

“Yeah, E! True Hollywood Story.  But at least I can see your face in my hands one way or another now.” you say lightly touching the glass of your phone keeping you from his skin.  You cross the parking lot to make your way to your car.

“Ohh no, you wouldn’t want me now, I’m a mess right now.  Whew, sweaty, it’s not a good look.”  Winston waves his hand in front of his face as if he got a whiff of himself.

You smile shaking your head, “Nah, that’s how I like you.  Maybe it’s pheromones or some shit but when you’re hot and sweaty after doing some work, I just...light up or something.  Reminds me of when I used to be the one that did that to you…”

Winston shows that gap you’ve ran your tongue over countless times.  His whole face smiles as he marinates on your statement.  “Used to?  Who said that?”

You shrug getting in your car to sit, smirking as you tease.  “Come on, Winston, you are going to have to do more than what a boxer does to train now, and I know they do that whole ‘no sex’ rule to save your energy, keep you aggressive, or whatever the fuck.”

Winston stares at you a moment.  You’re not sure if he is offended or you just reminded him of something.  “Winston, what are you doing?  Is the connection laggin?”  you ask moving the phone around in the air.

He shakes his head, running his thumb along his bottom lip.  You count the crinkles in his forehead subconsciously, wishing you could massage them smooth; every feature of this man turned you on, as they were stereotypically imperfect and unwanted.  But he displays them proudly.

“Hey, baby?”  he asks.

“Yeah?”  you reply as you lean against you car door window, entranced.

“You look so beautiful.”  his voice purrs saying this.  You watch his round brown eyes dart up and down the screen.  He knew just what to say and exactly how to say something to gas you up and feel like his precious jewel.

You hide your smile, looking away. “Thank you, I know,”  you say trying to sound cool and unphased.

“You were running outside in that today?”  he asks.  You had a lavender purple sports bra on and matching leggings with a black waistband and mesh panels.

You look down at yourself, brushing your hand across your the top of your breasts, “Mhmm, it’s hot out today, and burned some calories myself.  Gotta stay right, keep it tight!”

Winston screws his face up making an O with his mouth, “Oooh, don’t say that now.”

“What?”  you ask.

He points at you through the screen, “You are outside looking like that without me to admire fully and missing the tightness you have worked hard on, I won’t have it.”

You suck your teeth, “Please, at least somebody can admire it for once.  As for my tightness....well, you don’t need to worry about that until after the movie wraps, right?”

Winston blows a raspberry at the screen, “To hell with that!  You’re speaking nonsense, that’s not in my contract.  I’m only playing a fighter, remember?”  he says annoyed.

You hold your hand up, “What can I say?  You need to stay in character, and this…” you grab a titty and kiss it, “can stay right here, waiting for you.”

“Mm, do that again.”  Winston requests.

You pick your titty up, kissing it again.  “That what you mean?”

Winston emits a guttural groan, “Come on, show me something.”

You scoff at him, “Um, I am not pulling my breast out for someone to see behind you, nah sir.”

Winston looks around getting up.  You see equipment and coming lights pass him before he passes through a door to a quieter room “Ok, now go ahead.  Show me what I’ve been missing.”

You laugh,  “Where did you go? “

“The locker room.  What I'm doing is probably the most innocent thing to go down in here.  Now don't be shy…” he murmurs getting comfortable.

You look away hiding your face a moment before turning back to your phone.  You pull the short zipper in front of your sports bra down, before reaching into one cup to pull one titty out.

Winston licks his lips, putting one hand to the side of his face, “Woooow, mama look at you.”

You smirk, his reaction motivating you as your caress your areola, stimulating your nipple to perk up.  “All that’s missing is them lips baby.  I know you hungry after all that work you put in.”

“I gotta have a taste, baby.  Are you headed home?”  Winston asks as he opens his locker.

You put your titty back, starting the car up, “Mhmm, when should I expect you?”

Winston starts getting a bag out of his locker, putting a towel on his shoulder, “I’m headed there now.”  

“Ok, don’t wreck yourself tryna rush.  I want you to take your time...understand?”

Winston smiles crookedly, “Oh, I have every intention on it.”

Driving home, your cat is starting to percolate at just the thought of what’s headed its way later.  You turn on some twock jams get yourself in a headspace of bad bitch-ness, to pop that ass on him.

Pulling up to the driveway, you see his car in front of the house.  Did this nigga really beat me home?  You thought to yourself.  No way in hell, he would’ve had to been speeding; his gym is like 15 minutes further away than the park is.  

You make your way to the door, putting the key in the door the only find out the door is unlocked already.  Confused and now on edge, you ease the door open, peeking inside.

“Hello?  Winston, is you in here?”  No one responds.  Your place is quiet, seems undisturbed.  You step fully into the house.  As you close the door, you’re suddenly wrapped up in a hold that shook you up.

“I know you said to take my time, but I got ahead of myself.”  Winston purrs in your ear.  He kicks the front door closed behind him as his hands travel the front of your body; massaging you greedily.  You tense your body up to try to fight back your arousal.  “Wait, wait.  I wanted to shower first.  I’m still sweaty, Winston.”

Gripping your hips, Winston grinds his hard on between your cheeks, breaking your train of thought.  He kisses your shoulder up to you neck before saying.  “There’s no reason to cool down when shits already getting hot.”  His hand snakes down your belly to your crotch, taking a handful of your throbbing pussy.  “We’re just going to get dirty again, anyway.”

You move your hips with the motion of his fingers swirling your vulva on top of your thin legging material; reaching for Winston’s face as you turn to kiss him him aggressively.   You were more than ready to bust it open, but you needed to play him.  You push your elbows back to knock him off of you as you prance to the kitchen.

“Leave me be, Winston!  I need something to give me energy first!”  you yell behind you.

Winston tales you, “I’m not thinking about food right now, I don’t see how you would be.”

You make it to the kitchen island and reach into the fruit bowl to grab an apple.  Swiftly, you turn around and hold it in front of his face.  Winston looks at it, then back at you; scoffing as he leans his hands on either side of you against the island.  While you still hold it, he bites about half the damn apple in one go.  Your mouth hangs open at the power of his jaws, the width of his mouth, and his lips curling around the fruit before being coated with its juices, that are now running down your arm.  Winston notices, leaning down to catch the Apple juice with the drag of his tongue.  The stimulation drives your mind into an animalistic state, as he is pulling out all the tricks.  You toss the apple away to grab his face, licking him from chin to his lips, sucking the sweetness off him like the summer treat he was; pushing your hips against his bulge.

Winston turns his face from you still trying work down that Apple. “Not fair!  My mouth is your weakness and I can't fight back?”

As he chews, you say, “But I knew you were starving!  Can’t do much with that mouth when its already full.”   You feel a pang of true hunger  as you reach behind for the bowl and grab yourself a banana.

“Now let me get a couple bites in and maybe we will see what we’re up for.” Turning back to him, you concentrate on peeling it, side after side after side, until all of its raw uncut length is extended towards your mouth.  You really could not wait to bite into it, mouth open, you look up subconsciously and pause.  Winston is still chewing but appears to be almost done.  He grabs your wrist firmly, shaking his head side to side.  “Don’t you dare.”

You smile, shaking his hold off and grabbing the neck of his tank.  Pulling him in closer, you look him dead in round brown specs as you slowly sheath your mouth around the banana.  Taking a bite and not breaking eye contact you bite the tip off baring your teeth, moaning as you knock it back.

“Mmm, this is sooo good.  I’m going to take my time with this.”  you tease, pulling the peels down a little further.

Quicker than you could say Tobago, Winston grips you under your cheeks sitting you on the island.  Your legs spread like biscuits.

“Lay back.”  Winston commands.

You protest, “Uh uh!  I’m still eating.”

“Take a break, I gotta eat too.”  Winston’s tone deepens.  The baritone shakes your core as you imagination runs wild.  You take one more bite and lean back on your elbows.

“I don’t understand why you won’t let me just wash up!”

Winston’s hands travel up your thighs, “How much do these leggins cost?”

The question takes you out a minute, “Uhhh. I think $50-”  

Suddenly you feel a jerk, followed by a rip.

“WINSTON!  What the fuck!”  you look down as he has turned your leggings into thigh highs.

Winston gives a hearty belly laugh as he lights up at your reaction, “I love how you are so obsessed with eradicating panty lines from your life, you rarely wear them.”

Kneeling down, he lines his face up to your vulva so all you see is his eyes between your thighs.  He studies your opening like a safe to crack.  His fingers trail down from your clit, along your labia, spreading the lubrication from your opening, and back up again.  Winston holds your leg over his shoulder as he kisses your inner thigh with that luscious mouth of his.  You feel vibrations from his mouth as he hums against you.  That coupled with his manual stimulation took your focus off of your fruit snack and back to your human sized one.

“Oooh, Winton, don’t tease me please.  I won’t last much.”  you moan.

Winston pulls his mouth from your thigh, taking his fingers in to taste your dripping anticipation.  “That’s ok, because I have plenty in me to last for the both of us.”  With that, he takes his tongue out wide to slide across every inch of your pussy.  You stretch your arms out to grab ahold of something, anything that will keep you planted to earth; knocking over the fruit bowl in the process.  Your spine threatens its integrity as Winston sensational head game makes your back curl in defense against the arousal.  

“Shiiiit, right there, baby, stay…”  you fade out as you sit up to watch him.  His eyes are aimed on you as he works his neck to keep up with his tongue strokes, making every effort to drive you insane.  His arms reach up to the top of your bra, attempting to pull it down.  You take the cue and sit up to pull your bra clean off, before leaning back so he can massage your titties the way he needed.  Then Winston fixed his lips around your clit, vacuum sealing it to to suck your very soul from it.

This was not fair to you as you came full force, curling your toes up so hard you felt a cramp coming on.

“Ohhh, ok, ok!  You bout to give me a damn charlie horse, damn!”  you day, slapping his head to tap out.

Winston pulls from you, planting a couple kisses on your pussy for good measure before standing up to take his shirt off, “You know I didn’t have this gap before you, right?”

You still trying to catch your breath, “What you mean?”

“You know how kids suck their thumb, and shifts their teeth?”  He asks resting a hand on your thigh as he steps between you.

“Nigga, I know you not saying...shut the fuck up!  You play too much!”  you exclaim.   Sitting up you reach around the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down, barely able to get past his erection, until they fall around his ankles.  You hug his torso to plant two hard slaps on his cheeks, squeezing them roughly.

“Ahh!! Cut it out, (Y/N)!  You’re really going to get it now.  You need to remember to stretch so you don’t cramp up.”  He says as he put his arms under your legs to rest your ankles on his shoulders.  You put your arms around his neck sucking plentiful lips, “That’s what I’m tryna do.  Put that fat ass to work on me, baby.”

You lick your hand and reach down to work his length some, causing a low humming grunt from Winston.  “Mmm, fuck, baby.  Go ahead, let me in.”

Running his tip against your lubricated lips, you still feel highly sensitive from him sucking you off earlier.  Biting back, you line him up to slowly enter you.  Winston can’t hold back the natural gravity of pleasure as his hips dip to push further into you, stretching you out.  You take your hand away, beginning to shake as you hold onto his neck for dear life.

“Ooooh, Winston.  Ahhh…”  You moan.  Looking at him descend into inch by inch was almost enough to make you come again, so you look away to Winston’s face.  His mouth is hanging open as he looks into your eyes, stopping.  He brings his face to your neck to kiss on your clavicle.

“Come on, you gotta move baby.”  You beg feeling your walls contracting for friction.  Winston continues to kiss on your neck as he pulls back, dipping his hips before pushing back into you to graze your G-spot.  Your head falls back as he begins his strokes.  The position he has you in makes you have to completely hold on to him for full support or you’re falling back and busting your head.  Winston picks up his pace, making your pussy start to talk back now.

“This dick exciting you like that baby?”  Winston groans in your ear.

Putting a death grip around his neck, you say, “Fuuuck.  Yes, Winston.  Your dick feels so good.  Ah shit!”

Stirring your insides like mac and cheese, his pace hits his peak as he drills into you.  A ballerina couldn’t match the point of your toes as he sent your body into oblivion again.  You claw his back, biting down on his shoulder to bury your cries of pleasure.  Winston huffs and grunts loudly before he loses his rhythm too much, slamming his last stroke into you.  Balls deep, you lean back for air as he pulls out completely.  

Winston looks down at his dick, “Damn, look at all that cream we made, eh?”  You look down to see his frosted dick; like a call of the wild, you slide off the island dropping to your knees.

“Let me clean that off for you, daddy.”  you purr, massaging his cornucopia thighs as you take him in your mouth.  You tongue dances around his tip as as you suck it, working his length in deeper and deeper with every bob.  Looking up at him he almost looked near tears, as you slumped, soaking his wood just right.  He bites his lip to stifle his moans as his hips try to pace with your mouth.

“Ohhh, your mouth feels so good.”  He reaches for your head, gripping your hair.  “MORE than good...it’s great.”

You almost laugh on his dick for the nostalgia of childhood cereal being compared to head; but instead focus on keeping your throat wide, relaxing your jaw to deep throat him as best you could.  You feel his muscles tighten in his thighs as he tries to hold back his orgasm, his fingers tightening his grip on your roots.

Winston lets out a audible groan at your skills now.  “Ahhhh, FUCK!  You’re so damn nasty with that pretty mouth; you almost got me there.”  Pulling your mouth away you say, “Not before I get one more nut, nigga.  You owe me back pay.”

Winston chuckles, “Be careful what you wish for.  Turn around.”  he instructs.

You quickly get on all fours, arching to bring your hips to their full peak.  Winston grips both cheeks, kneading them before you feel his tongue on your vulva again.  You shake automatically, still sensitive from the stimulation, you grasp at the floor unsuccessfully for support as the tip of his tongue relentlessly rolls against your clit repeatedly while he hums into your pussy.  Coming back up for air, he lines himself up against you again.  “You know the food is good when it gets you singing, right?”  Winston asks while slipping his tip between you folds.

Your laugh at him turns into sharp gasp as his girth stretches your walls out once more.  This time he starts at a steady pace as you have physically gotten accustomed to his length but your nervous system was having a problem trying to deal.  

You were somewhere between cheering and weeping, “Ooooh Winston, baby please, I’m cu-”  the sound you let out next made up for your subsequent speechlessness.

Winston grips your leggings-turned-thigh highs like reigns, growling as he digs you out while your tightness bears down on him.  “Keep that arch for me, baby.  You got this, it's all yours.”

His motivations were all you needed to straighten up and power through as he seemed close.  Throwing it back on him drove Winston nuts.

“I know you been wanting to come, fill me up baby.  Fill my guts os I don’t be hungry, baby.”  You moan.  Your own dirty talk caused yet another wave to wash over you as you came on his dick again, walls caving in around him.

“Ohhh Goddamit, gimme that shit!!”  you screech like a banshee

Winston babbles in moans and grunts, completely lost of the English language until instinct takes over so that he holds you down winding his hips against you, intensifying your orgasm until he shoots your insides up with all he had built up within him.  Winston’s weight slowly collapses on you and you slide down with him, still inside you.  Your breaths match up as you two slowly come down.

“No workout can compare to your body of work, baby.”  Winston says, kissing behind your ear before slowly pulling out or you.  “I think we earned a shower.”

You shake your head, or at least you think you did, not having full feeling back in your body yet, “I don’t mind being dirty a little while longer.”

I think I was hungry when I wrote this.  I been wanting to do smut with food like they used to do in the 90s, whipped cream and shit, so this is me experimenting.

Shoutout to @jackburtonsays , honey I will message you if you do not see this because you asked for a fic, I just so happened to feel like doing it.

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls  

T’akia

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Commencement Day

Song of Stevens

The Coffee Prince

Wakanda Got Y’all

If I Could Do It All Again

[bangtan-ballum]

what i remember from the interactive introverts show in belfast (28.5.2018) SPOILERS

 this is all from memory so quotes and the order may not be completely accurate but close enough.. *pretty detailed spoilers*

- before the show began and the playlist was on, 'dans siri' kept interrupting saying "this is dans siri he left me to go look at some memes i hope you’re enjoying the playlist" and it telling us there’s no recording allowed and to turn our phones off or "ill beat you up only i cant because i’m just an ipad"

- the playlist had bts mic drop and red velvet peek-a-boo and everyone started singing and dancing to it and i was shook so many were fans of kpop omg i was liVING. 

- explaining his tweet "the weirdest thing happened, sorry if you’re here but omg that would be weird, we were sat on a bench and then this little boy wearing a fedora walked by, stopped, looked back and did this *tipped his hat* like was that directed at me?? there was no hello, nothing! and then he waited and did it again?!" he asked phil if he seen him and he said he did. dan said "phew if you didn’t i thought, i’ve just seen god, god just came to me in this form to judge me. and if he did id be going down (to hell). i am not prepared for that" 

- talking about the stage and the amazing graphic design and the two big i's at the side of the stage and dan said "look at those long boys" then called them phallic 

- a photo of dan inspired by my horse prince with the caption "ride me senpai" and phil said it was from his own personal files so he doesn’t know how that got there.. 

- phil saying they want to get to know us better but bc theres not enough time for them to take us all out for a coffee and a chat (how cute, and then everyone became soft for them and said aww) so they decided to try to get to know use all at the same time

- the audiences collective name was karen

- "you’re just not there yet. you need to get inside karen" *dan looks at phil in disgust* "phil...join karen, connect with karen" dan later goes onto say "get inside karen" and phil says "see you’re as bad as me" 

things dan and phil will not be doing tonight: 

- 'erotic role playing': *phil wearing a police helmet and carrying a baton* "officer(maybe captain) phil(maybe philly) here, danny’s been a bad boy" then dan appears holding handcuffs "please be careful with the handcuffs i have sensitive skin" 

- the show will also not be a live viewing of dan and phil in their apartment. they then showed videos of them doing things round the house and phil was eating cereal out of the box and dan was on the toilet. 

- the show will not be a giant party with all their friends and they put party hats on and then the voice said “no because none of the people replied to their messages bc they have no friends. none.” lmao 

- the show will not be them stripping and they ripped their shirts off to reveal they had the same shirt on underneath

- "unleash the bees" then "sting me daddy" by dan ofc 

- they tested themselves and had to say the same thing under the topic of "kitchen objects" and they both said whisk and said that they never say the same thing and that was only the second time they’ve done that and they were so happy about it omg

- when doing the simulation part dan was in his fur suit and had to go to the toilets but the men’s was locked and the options we had to choose from was to "ask someone for the passcode" or "use the lady door" (i know) and dan went on to say that this is why we need to diminish the concept of gender and everyone clapped and cheered omg i love him

- during the how many think we know the real dan and phil bit, dan said something about how we know certain thing (that i dont remember) and how we know some of their kinks 

- dan being v concerned about how we kept cheering for satan and judged the people of belfast for seeming happy to be making a deal with the devil lol. 

- during the sacrifice of dan (what context?) phil came out in a leather apron with gloves and said he is wearing his best serial killer outfit. 

- phil getting ready to shoot a spinning dan with an arrow and says "forget katniss everdeen, this is philniss philerdeen" 

-phil misses the board and hits dans hip and dan said “if that was 5 inch to the left then we would not have been friends anymore”

- dan trying to get off the wheel and phil asked if he needs to unstrap him and dan said "i’ve had enough of you unstrapping me" idk if he actually said that but i s2g that’s what i heard at the time and how i will remember it LMAO 

- dan had to untie phils apron and the audience died and dan was done with all of us. 

- phil saying it was distracting watching dan get out of his padded suit and then dan tried to sexily get out of it whilst phil was talking and phil stopped and stared at dan and said "im just gonna let him do it" and so in the end we all just watched as dan struggled to step out of it and then literally also tripped. then a few minutes later he realised he still had one of the shoe protectors on his foot (he called it a shower cap lol) and then took it off and awkwardly walked to the side to set it down then awkwardly walked by and laughed under his breath.

- according to the audience dan has a stress mushroom, apple and a girls motivation locked in the box under his bed. dan was extremely concerned as to why she thinks he has locked an apple in the box. and everyone laughed when the other girl said her motivation and dan said "i too have my motivation locked in a box and i’ve lost the key" 

- phil saying the key to dans box was v 50 shades of grey bc of the red ribbon

- at some point they both said a word wrong and both times they did The Thing™ they do when they mock each other when they make a mistake.

- 'phantastic phacts' as a title on screen. phil says "like what we did there?" 

- dan saying his phil trash #1 

- phil saying “put your nipples away” (when a photo of a topless man appeared on screen) and said it in some type of accent LMAO i died

- dan saying they are super best friends and soulmates -im dead- 

- wholesome howell and x-rated lester made an appearance (they swapped roles and were given topics and phil had to make good things sound bad and dan had to make bad things sound good) also when dans photo of him as an angel with a halo and a rainbow behind him, he looked at the audience, smirked and said "its very fitting" i would like the think he meant the gay ass rainbow behind him but y’know. 

- dan saying to god "implode me daddy" when he had to make the topic of the world imploding seem appealing. phil laughed under his breath and said “never say implode me daddy again” 

- *phil having to make meeting beyonce sound bad and he said bc hes so clumsy that he'd trip and kill her and was really dramatic whilst saying it and dan was stunned and just looked in shock at phil then us and said "are you as traumatised as i am right now" 

- dan having to make stepping in a puddle while wearing socks seem good and screamed and said "NO that is literally the worst thing in the world..ok you dont appreciate dry feet until suddenly they’re not. once a day we should all put on a fresh sock and go to the kitchen and step in something moist just to remember-" phil interrupts shouting no and dan continues saying "do you ever feel like you need a drink. well, with a wet sock you can just- *lifts his foot to his mouth and everyone dies on the spot* 

- dan and phil struggling to pronounce all the irish names and everyone was screaming how to pronounce it and dan made everyone be quiet and squealed "wAIT. just one person" LMAO and then the one time phil said a name right and everyone cheered for him 

- dan would happily become an amazing dancer even if it meant phil would wake up with 2 left hands and 2 left feet because he says it wouldn’t make a difference in phils life bc hes that clumsy now it’d probably be the same with 2 left feet. 

- phil would save dan from being bitten by a vampire even though it would mean that buffy the vampire slayer never existed. they talked about how the vampire could bite him and he could live forever as a vampire and phil said he would bring him bloody treats (then dan referenced to before when phil was x-rated lester*) and said "what kind of bloody treats?? omg it would be beyonce he killed beyonce and will feed me her corpse" then said "no what if they just want me dead" and then phil decided to save him. 

- dan thinks this phil without the fringe is an impostor and he killed the real phil. he screamed a couple of times throughout the show to ask where the real phils body was and said will get him to confess eventually. 

- "are you really just a lizard in a phil suit..because that would explain a lot" phil is a scalie confirmed. 

- phil constantly squatting/slut dropping to the buzzer sound effect 

- i cant remember the context but phil said something about him having layers and dan stopped and said “layers?? are you shrek? what do you think this is, shrek the musical?”

- phil had to say dans biggest fear and he said moths, and it was wrong so he got an electric shock and dan said "wHAT NO! ok right i have this thing where i hate anything underwater. like imagine you’re in the sea, what are you scared of? sharks? woop no, whales? no. but there’s a boat and beside the boat there’s a buoy and attached to that is sLIMEY CHAIN. EW NO. i’ve got submechanophobia. (i googled it i think that’s what he said idk) so its not moths, phil you know that!!" 

in the deep chat bit: 

-they talked about phobias. someone submitted saying she had a phobia of balloons and asked if she was weird and asked what they’re scared off. phil said "no you’re not weird. everyone has their fears. whats yours dan" and dan said "as we discussed before, things underwater, slimey things! uHH. but yeah i get that, its the anticipation of when its gonna pop and that’s stressful" and asked phil what his was and said "i’ve always had a thing where i was scared of the deep sea ever since i was a kid. also, not that its really a phobia but, horses. i don’t like them i don’t trust their intentions. like imagine waking up one day to a horse in your bedroom" lol 

- they talked about procrastination. talked about how changing your environment, like "doing a very not dan and phil thing" and going for a walk (dan squealed at the thought) could help distract your mind, getting some fresh air and then going back to your work with a different mindset. then talked about how phil has the need to reward himself when he does something and said that he always says to himself that if he finishes a certain task that he will reward himself with a marshmallow. and then said that if you reward yourself with something that it could motivate you to finishing whatever you’re putting off. dan said phil is using the example of a marshmallow but that he really does this and that he tells dan not to let him have the marshmallows until he finishes whatever he needs to do. dan then said that even if your procrastinating school work or whatever to just write the first word, or try writing a few sentences bc atleast you’ve started it and if you start writing that you could get into the mindset and keep writing until you finish. 

- they talked about making a youtube channel. someone submitted that he has started a youtube channel about reptiles and if they had any tips. and dan said "omg stephen. phil is probably already subscribed" lmao. phil praised him for starting a channel about something he is interested in and how its bad to start a channel just for the views and the subscribers. then said that instead of talking about what hes going to do, he should "just do it, show us that lizard" and dan said "yeah dont start off like "hi, so my name is [stephen], nice to meet you. ive always wanted to make videos about reptiles but i never rea-" lmao 

- phil saying bitch in his disstrack oh my god 

- the song at the end: "hey buddy can you give me some editing tips" 

- when dan was playing the piano and phil was singing and said that even though they’ve been friends for so long they’ve never fallen out and then starting listing things they could fall out over eg. phils dying houseplants, how dan never goes outside, phils vision is blurry and dans a furry. 

- for the most inaccurate prediction of interactive introverts someone submitted "2 hours of dan and phil twerking to the teletubbies theme tune" and then dan proceeded to twerk whilst singing it and saying the teletubbies names.. 

- d: "its basically two oscars tied together" p: "oh and they’re naked, look at those butts" d: "wow statues of two naked men tied together may not be the best thing to have when its meant to represent us"

there were some really soft things they said at the start and the end, and how we were there bc were happy(?) (i dont remember the exact context or quote but it was something like that, all i mind is that it was v sweet) and idk i just love them omg it was the best night!! 

[arjyles]

i originally meant to accompany this w an art piece but i forgot to finish it so heres the fic for now

wrote this for @taylorearhardts for trimberlydwarves secret santa-- MERRY CHRISM MY DUDE!!!! HOPE U LIKE IT!!! BC I LOVE KIMZACK NOW 

-

They really couldn’t be friends without constantly pushing each others’ boundaries.

Kim 4:42pm: zack i need ur eyes and opinion

Zack 4:43pm: im not giving u fashion advice unless it’s for lingerie

Kim 4:43pm: ik ur joking but that’s deadass what i was gonna ask

Kim 4:44pm: don’t make it weird

Zack 4:44pm: no hetero right babe ;p

She rolls her eyes at his choice of words, and snaps the picture anyway. Scrolling down her list of best friends on Snapchat, she captions the photo, “no hetero x,” before selecting Zack’s name and hitting send, no pause or hesitation needed. It’s just Zack, after all.

Immediately after it’s sent, the red triangle turns white, indicating that he opens it right away. After all, there are basically no boundaries in their friendship, and if there are, they’re quickly broken, since the two of them run the reckless impulse decision kingdom.

Zack 4:49pm: it’s hot but why pink. why not black ;(

Kim 4:49pm: it’s my fav colour ok. this is lingerie for me not u

Zack 4:50pm: fine

Zack 4:50pm: is there a v-shape version of the bra tho. ur tiddies look flat in that

She grins and shakes her head at his honesty. There are about 8 more pink bras she needs his opinion on, anyway.

-

“Anyone seen Kim yet?”

“Nah, T. She wasn’t in bio?”

Trini glares at Zack’s question. “Of course not. Why else would I be asking?”

“Jeez,” Zack says, raising his hands in surrender. Trini was very protective of Kim, for some odd reason. With Kim not there, she’s especially more cranky. “Relax, dude. We can check on her. Who’s free?”

Trini’s about to volunteer, until Jason puts his hand on her shoulder, “you can’t, dude. We’ve got that math test next period,” she sighs, and Jason turns to Billy and Zack, “can one of you?”

Before Billy can say anything, Zack speaks out, “I guess I will!” he says enthusiastically, saving Billy from having to ruin his perfect attendance, “I was already gonna skip, anyway.”

“Are you sure you can?” Billy asks, looking conflicted between wanting to be a good friend and wanting to be a good student, “is it really a good idea for you to skip more classes?”

Zack waves him off, relieving the others of worrying about his grades, “yeah, it’s fine. I’ve got a spare third period anyway, and we’re only watching a movie in fourth.”

Then, he gets up from their shared lunch table to make his way to Kim’s house, leaving Billy to tutor Jason and Trini in the last bits of trig they need help with.

-

Normally, she wasn’t one to take days off like this, but her mother called her last night reminding her how she was no longer living up to her parents’ standards, and now she can’t really bring herself to leave her house.

Instead, it’s nearing 1pm and she’s still in bed, listening to her Depression Playlist™ on repeat, while watching her ceiling fan rotate over and over. She can’t tell if it’s making her dizzy, or if her head just hurt from oversleeping.

Just before she can transition from humming along to belting out the bridge of Hands Down, Chris Carrabba’s voice is interrupted by her phone ringing.

Groaning, she rolls over to check her caller ID, and is only mildly surprised to see Zack’s face grinning at her before she hits the answer button.

“What,” Kim says into her phone, sounding irritated.

“Well, hello to-” he grunts, “you too.”

Kim raises a brow at that. “Why do you sound constipated? Did you call me while you were on the shitter?”

He laughs, but it sounds slightly strained, “no. I’m scaling a building, actually.”

Kim tsks, showing her mild disapproval at his risqué antics. “Don’t scale the fucking school, Zack,” she scolds him, “you’re gonna get yourself expelled and Zordon’s gonna murder your ass for taking advantage of your powers.”

There’s a brief pause on the phone, like he’s readjusting his stance to a more ergonomically proper way of climbing, “who said I was scaling the school?”

“What building are you scaling?” She asks, slightly worried that he might be putting himself in danger. Well, as much danger as a ranger can face. “Zack, what the fuck.”

He giggles again, sounding like a giddy school girl, “here’s a hint,” he says, and she can basically see the grin on his face through the phone, “open your window to find out. NOT CLICKBAIT.”

And then it clicks. (ha ha get it) She looks over to her window only to see one set of fingers on the outside sill, where Zack must’ve been dangling from.

“Why haven’t you at least pulled yourself up?”

“Because-” he grunts again, probably shifting his hand a little bit so he can get more comfortable, “my booty is poppin’ way too hard to fit onto the ledge. Let me in, Kim!”

She sighs exasperatedly before pulling the covers off herself to make her way towards the window. Once there, she glances down at the boy still hanging on with one arm, a phone in his other.

He waves at her with the phone-hand, before putting his phone back to his mouth, “so are you gonna let me in, or nah?”

She grins at him and shrugs, “I wish I could, but I have a screen on my window.”

His face drops. “Are you serious?”

“No, I just wanted to see how long you could hang onto that.”

“Probably forever-- I’m that buff,” he says, winking at her, “but someone might see me.”

She reaches over to open the window, but pauses, “to be fair, you’re in my backyard.”

“Kim,” he pleads with her, his voice cracking. “C’mon.”

“Fine,” she relents, but not before dramatically sighing and hanging up, as if all of this was physically taxing on her.

She unlocks the window and pushes it open, watching as Zack pockets his phone and pulls himself up, landing ungracefully onto her floor face first. Despite the fall, he still comes back up smiling.

“So, what’s up, Kimmy? You good?” He asks, while toeing his shoes off before Kim can give him shit for it. He was really the only one of her friends who did that automatically, the other rangers being absolute heathens, wearing shoes indoors. “Why’d you stay in?”

“Honestly,” she sighs, grabbing his hand and leading him to her bed and he lies next to her, like it’s routine, “I’m not feeling the best right now.”

He hums, and she can feel the vibrations from his chest. Then she feels his hand come up to her forehead, and he presses it there for a minute.

“You seem okay, though. Is it a different kind of sickness?”

She purses her lips. They never really hide anything from each other. If they didn’t know something about each other, it’s probably because they just forgot to tell the other.

This time, though, Kim feels a little bit of hesitance.

“Yeah, kind of,” she says instead.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to elaborate.

“Just, y’know…” She clears her throat, trying to decide if this is something she can share with him. “Good ol’ depression, hittin’ me up.”

He’s silent again. Kim feels like she’s finally found the boundary between them that she shouldn’t have crossed.

“Depression?” He finally questions, and Kim holds her breath still for whatever he’s about to say next, “isn’t that just a fancy word for feeling ‘bummed out?’”

Relieved, she feels her heartbeat relax, and grins against his shoulder. “Dwight, you ignorant slut.”

He chuckles at that, and waits a minute before asking, “so, do you want me to go, or can I stay?”

“You can stay, but only if I can paint your nails.”

“Do you have Vantablack?”

-

“Sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I really wanted to be.”

“It’s okay, I get it,” Kim says, and she really means it. She runs through the combination on her lock again-- it’s a little rusty, “Zack was more than enough.”

Trini nods, and Kim takes that as her cue to accept that they’re done with the topic, and takes her textbooks out of their shared locker to shove them haphazardly into her backpack.

She’s about to ask Trini how her math test went yesterday, when Zack’s familiar voice greets the two of them.

“Hey, Trini,” he says, ruffling her hair, then, “hey Kimmy.”

But before Kim can even get a ‘hey’ out, Zack is ducking quickly and throwing Kim over his shoulder so she’s squealing loudly as he tickles her sides.

It isn’t anything new, the two of them were the most physical and touchy people on the team, but with how loud and obnoxious they’re being, it’s almost similar to how the couples Kim rolls her eyes at in the hallway act when they do major PDA.

Regardless, she can’t care less about her reputation.

“Put me down, Zack!” She giggles, her bag on the floor, now forgotten.

“I will, if I get this one thing wrong,” he promises, and there’s suddenly a mischievous undertone to his voice that worries Kim only slightly.

“What is it?” She asks, despite herself.

He pokes at her side once more so she’s laughing again, “you’re wearing that pink bralette you sent me, aren’t you?”

“Oh my God,” Kim laughs, and hopes Trini isn’t still there to hear that, “fuck you.”

Then the bell rings, but Zack doesn’t even drop Kim-- he just picks up her backpack off the floor and slings it over his shoulder, continuing to carry her to Trini and Kim’s bio class.

She feels a slight pleasure at the confused looks some people give her on the way— the question, ‘are you two together?’ written on their faces.

It’s just Zack, she reminds herself, trying not to think about why she gets a warm feeling from the thought of her and Zack being together.

-

They’re on their way to the quarry, Kim sandwiched between Billy and Trini, while Jason drives, and Zack sits in shotgun.

Kim originally intends to sit next to Zack, who unintentionally ruins that plan by calling shotgun before anybody else can.

She’s perfectly content with getting to sit next to Trini, however, even though she’s recently had a sudden wave of warm appreciation for the black ranger.

After that first period in the morning, Zack had carried Kim from every class so that her feet had basically never touched the halls of their school that day because ‘princesses should be treated as such.’

They were both not shy about touching, but it was the first time Zack had been that extra about their physicality, and Kim found herself grinning wide from how grateful she was that he was trying so hard to cheer her up after her day off the day before.

Finally, Jason pulls up to the quarry, and before she can even get her seatbelt off, Zack says, “last one there has to finally wear black underwear!”

Jesus Christ. What is it with that boy and underwear?

Meanwhile, the other three rangers aren’t phased by this comment, instead moving at a speed that showed no indication they felt threatened by this challenge.

Kim tries to be patient, she really does, but Billy and Trini were moving so slow, and knowing Trini would mind  less  about the sudden contact, she unbuckles her belt quickly, not even bothering to wait for Trini to exit the car so she can climb over the smaller girl in an attempt to beat Zack to the pit. It’s pretty clear the race is only meant to be between the two of them.

She catches up quickly, the taller boy having tripped earlier on the mud.

“So if I win, what do I get?”

“Me in pink underwear,” he smirks, and trips Kim before running ahead.

-

Zack wins, but only because he had a head start and cheated. Or at least, that’s what Kim tells herself as she wrings the water out of her hair while glaring at the cheater.

“You did me dirty, Taylor,” she says, attempting to unstick her wet shirt from her body.

He grins. “How else am I going to do you, Hart?”

She narrows her eyes at him, and he only shrugs.

They make their way over to the ship, all the while side eying each other, another unspoken race in the midst.

“I win,” Zack says, and then smugly adds on, “again.”

“Um,” she starts, trying to imitate her lawyer mother’s tone in court, “we didn’t even say that was a race,” she points out, knowing full well if she beat him she would’ve said the same thing.

He scoffs, “whatever. Potato, poh-tah-to.”

But Kim is already stripping quickly, trying to change before Zack can. Everything is always a competition between the two of them.

Zack, only now noticing what she’s doing, quickly throws his shirt over his head and makes a grab for his dry shirt.

Kim stops him before he can reach it, though. “Wait, hold up,” she says, only having one leg through her pants, “I think I like you better shirtless.”

If he thinks her flirtatious behaviour is weird, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he flexes his pecs back and forth, “is it because I have better nipples than you?”

Kim rolls her eyes at him, finally finished dressing herself, “no, actually, it’s because I win.”

“Touché, Kimmy,” he remarks, looking slightly impressed.

Then there are sounds of splashing coming through, indicating the others have finally caught up.

“You lost earlier, though,” he reminds her, throwing a shirt on, ineffectively covering his nipples, since it’s so cold down there anyway, “so this Friday? You and me. Black underwear shopping. Don’t forget.”

Kim watches him walk away to greet the others, and is unable to fight the grin that forms on her face.

-

“Can we take a break?” Zack asks, answering Kim’s question about the deeper meaning of Ophelia’s death, “my brain is fried and my stomach would also like something fried.”

“I’d tell your stomach to eat your brain, but honestly, I am so sick of Shakespeare right now,” Kim agrees, cracking her back as she stands up from her bed to stretch.

“Thanks for your help, though,” Zack is sure to say again. Without Kim, it was unlikely he’d even be passing this class, let alone getting a 72.

She chuckles at his hourly need to thank her for helping him, “no problem. But what do you want? You wanna order a pizza or go to Krispy Kreme?”

“I’m not really feeling Krispy Kreme tonight,” he admits, now sick of all the donuts from there. Why the team had adopted that restaurant as their go-to, he’d never know. He didn’t even like donuts that much. “What about Burger King?”

“That’s like, on the other side of town,” she points out.

He shrugs, “yeah, but you got wheels.”

“Well, yes,” she agrees hesitantly, “but I don’t really feel like driving. We can go, but you have to drive.”

“I don’t know how to drive,” he says, and looks at her as if this should be obvious information.

Her brows furrow in shock and confusion. “What?”

“I don’t know how to drive, Kim,” he repeats, “it’s gay culture!”

“Dude, what. I can drive?”

He brushes her off. “Whatever, dude. I just never learned how. Like, how would I?” He questions, “I don’t even have a car.”

There’s a brief pause as Kim lets that sink in. Logically, it makes sense. They’re only 17, which means that they only had two years to have learned how to drive, and between taking care of his mother, and not having a car, it really should’ve been obvious.

“Okay, c’mon,” she says, finally breaking the silence to pull him up from her bed.

“Are we going to Burger King?” He asks, as he follows her to her car.

She doesn’t answer him until they’re in the car. “Yes, but I’m also gonna teach you how to drive.”

“Kim,” he starts, as he buckles in his seatbelt, “you saw me driving my Zord. Are you sure your BMW’s gonna be okay?”

She waves him off while backing out of her driveway, “shut up. You’re gonna make me not want to teach you. Let’s just see how this goes.”

-

Their bellies are full and they’ve just finished their share of mozzarella sticks and King Burger meals and are now in their empty school’s parking lot.

“Okay, so first, you probably wanna adjust the mirror to your height,” she says, the last bit of fries in her mouth, “Jesus, why are you so tall?”

He discards his burger box into the takeout bag. “Maybe you’re just short.”

“Ex-squeeze me, bitch, I’m 5’5,” she states, her hand on her chest in mock offence, “that’s the national average.”

“Whatever,” he says, and he adjusts the mirror so that he can see his rear, “there. It’s fixed.”

“Okay, good. Now start driving.”

“Wh- you didn’t even teach me how to,” he says, looking over at her in bewilderment.

Her voice is calm, and soothing, like a yoga instructors’, “just do what feels right. That’s what I do on a daily basis, if I’m honest.”

“How the fuck do you have a license?”

“I stop at stop signs-- isn’t that enough?”

He shrugs and pushes down on the pedal but the car remains still. “Why isn’t it moving?”

“Babe, you’re still on park,” she chuckles, “switch to drive.”

He looks around at all the buttons on the BMW. There are probably more in there than in his Zord. “What?” He asks, looking to her for some guidance.

“On the PRNDL.”

“The PRNDL- oh!” He exclaims, now understanding that episode of The Suite Life, “the PRNDL! I know some of these words!”

“Yes,” Kim smiles patiently at his childish antics, “now switch to ‘D.’”

“I’m always on D,” he winks.

She pauses, trying to think of a reply to that. “I’m gonna ignore that,” she says, instead, “just start slow.”

He follows her instructions, switching the function to ‘D,’ and presses lightly on the pedal. They’re only moving at 5mph.

“Good shit, good shit,” Kim says, appreciatively, “now try a little faster.”

Zack nods, and he practically stomps on the gas pedal, switching from 5mph to 90mph.

“Okay, wait, not like that, hit the brake!”

But Zack isn’t sure which pedal is the brake— there are at least three pedals, and they’re nearing the school’s dumpster.

“Which one’s the brake?” He asks, trying to decide between the 50/50.

“BITCH-!” Kim exclaims, and then she’s ducking down and hitting the brakes for him.

The car screeches to a halt, just about an inch or two away from hitting the science lab.

“Wow, good save, Kimmy,” Zack laughs, still thrilled from the close call, “but if you wanted to get on my lap you could just ask.”

She glares at him from her compromising position on his lap. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Somehow, Zack convinces her to let him try again, and by the end of the night, they’re blasting One Direction songs and singing at the top of their lungs, while drifting in their high school parking lot.

-

Kim never really lets herself think too much about something before doing it, but for some reason, when it comes to Trini, she’s always second guessing herself.

Needing a little push to help her decide whether or not this decision is a good idea or not, she quickly runs through her friends to decide who would be best at talking her through this.

Her first thought is Jason, but she quickly pushes that thought away. Things were still a little tense between them since they made out at his house that night, even though they talked about it, so asking him for his opinion on this would just ruin everything.

Billy is a sweetheart, but also a definite no. She isn’t sure if she should run the risk of making him uncomfortable.

Then there’s Zack, who… Would make total sense to ask.

Kim 9:52pm: zack can u rate my nudes idk if they’re good enough to send to tr*ni

She throws her phone back on her bed as she waits for him to text back, digging through her closet to find her cutest lacy bra, before throwing it on. It’s her most trusty piece of lingerie, always guaranteed to make the viewer drool at the sight of it.

Her text tone goes off, and she practically dives onto her bed to read it. Zack 9:55pm: only if u finally got lingerie that isn’t fuckin pink

She looks down at her current attire, and then sits up again to look back at her closet. Without having realized it, she’d slowly sifted out the other colours of lingerie she had, and now only owned pink. It isn’t like all her bras are pink, but all the cute ones are.

Kim 9:55pm: fuck

Groaning, she lies back down onto the bed dramatically, trying to figure out a solution. She needs to send these nudes tonight , or her impulse would run short and she’d have too much time to think about it for the next time. Kim 9:56pm: k wait what if there was no lingerie

His reply comes almost immediately after that.

Zack 9:56pm: .... SEND i needed these nudes like yesterday

Grinning, she strips her bra off and makes her way to the bathroom, flipping her Snapchat camera over to regular instead of selfie mode.

She dims the light slightly so it’s less bright, and uses her arms to cover her nipples, while pushing her boobs together, in the way that she knows drives her conquests to call her a ‘fuckin’ tease.’

Once satisfied with how it looks, she snaps the photo, and captions it “will this pic make trini understand im tryna get it?”

As usual, he opens it immediately, but it takes a minute for him to reply.

He snaps her back, and it’s a photo of him losing his shit, captioned “kIM NO ONE WAS READY FOR THAT HOLY SHIT!!!”

She chuckles at his reaction, and he texts her while the snap is still opened.

Zack 10:01pm: Kim holy shit ur hot

Zack 10:01pm: send that shit to trini bitch will nut on the spot!!!

Zack 10:01pm: biitcchhhh god has BLESSEDT my eyes

She throws her shirt back on, and shuts the bathroom light off, all the while still texting Zack.

Trini remains forgotten, and Kim doesn’t end up sending any more nudes that night.

-

It’s finally Friday, or the day that Zack has come to collect his winnings from Kim.

“Kim, are you ready?” He asks, as he balances precariously on her window sill, his butt not quite fitting on it.

Kim turns as he taps on the window again, and she covers herself up out of reflex, scolding him, “Zack, do I look like I’m ready?” She asks, throwing a shirt at the window to scare him.

“Let me in,” he insists, still tapping on the glass.

“No, I’m not done getting dressed,” she says, and turns her back toward him in an attempt to stay decent in front of him while changing her shirt.

“It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but still lets him in anyway, even though her shirt isn’t on yet.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling smugly, and he rubs his backside slightly. The ledge really was too small for his butt.

Finally, she gets her shirt on, and makes her way to her desk where she knows her keys are, only to find that they’re missing.

“Okay, let’s go,” Zack says, redirecting her attention to his hands as he jingles the keys, so that it’s evident that she hadn’t misplaced them. “I’m driving.”

Kim’s grinning, but shaking her head as she follows him to her car, “I knew it was a bad idea to teach you.”

“It’s for a fun surprise, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she mutters, locking the door behind her.

-

The ‘fun surprise’ turns out to just be the Victoria’s Secret at the local mall. Kim figures he was just excited to use his newfound skill of driving.

As soon as they enter the store though, Zack’s already grabbing all kinds of black bras from every section, making Kim wonder if he’d ever done this before.

“There you go,” he says, handing her at least 12 bras with their matching underwear before pushing her into the fitting room.

She glances at the first bra he’d handed her, and is surprised. He hadn’t even needed to ask for her size, but he’d grabbed the correct one for all of them.

Throwing on the first bra, she admires herself quickly in the mirror. It’s a lacy black push up bra, with a scallop cut at the bottom of it, so it accentuates her abs perfectly. She probably wouldn’t say it out loud, but Zack definitely had an eye for good lingerie.

She takes one last glance at herself to ensure everything’s in the right place, before stepping out of the dressing stall, now dressed in the complete set of underwear he’d handed her.

“If I send Trini nudes in this, do you think I could finally get it?” She asks, as soon as Zack sees her.

His jaw drops, but then he closes it and nods quickly to agree, “holy shit babe, black is your colour,” he says, still slightly dazed, “you look like such a thirst trap.”

She flushes slightly from his comment, before remembering it’s Zack. “Honestly, it’s everybody’s colour,” she says, trying to brush off the blush on her face, “black is the colour you wear when you wanna get laid-- at least, that’s what it’s like according to 10 Things I Hate About You.”

“What’s good?” he winks, gesturing to his all black outfit.  Then his face turns serious again, “if you don’t cop that shit, I’m buying it for you.”

Kim grins, delighted, “hang on, dude, there are like, a million more bras I still need to try.”

Zack sits back down, trying to relax how hyped up he was for Kim, while giving her a thumbs up, letting her know he was ready for her to continue on with the show.

She closes the door behind her once back in the stall, looking at all the equally cute sets he’d chosen, if not cuter.

It was pretty clear for Kim that she could never go underwear shopping ever again without the tall boy.

-

Kim’s in the middle of Beyoncé’s Partition when she’s suddenly reminded that she never sent Trini those nudes the other night.

Without thinking, she gets up immediately to open her bags from Victoria’s Secret, grabbing the matching set that Zack said made her a tease, because of how sheer it is.

She throws on the set— but before she can snap a picture, she texts Zack first for his approval.

Kim 9:23pm: k dude im boutta to send trini nudes in the shit we bought today lms if its a bad idea

Zack 9:24pm: nudes from u r always a good idea tf flaunt what u have while u still have it get it sis!!!!!

Zack 9:24pm: but also. i have eyes so dont forget to send them to me too ;p

Kim laughs at his response. Of course she will. It’s not even a question at this point. But she quickly gets back to business.

She lies back down onto her bed and covers the lower half of her body with her blanket, just slightly above her bellybutton. Her right arm extends as she flips her Snapchat camera over to selfie mode, and she’s sure to crop out her face from the shot, using her left index finger to push down on her lower lip as she smirks at the camera. She adjusts her bralette once more to ensure her nipples are on optimal display before snapping the photo and captioning it, “translucent nipples bc u don’t deserve to see the real thing yet.”

She selects Zack’s name, then hesitantly adds on Trini’s, and hits send before she can overthink it.

Zack opens his immediately, while Trini’s is still left unread.

Zack 9:31: holy shit

Zack 9:31pm: ur such a fuckin tease

Zack 9:32pm: ur nipples still remain a mystery but at least now i know they exist

Kim 9:33pm: just take my word for it dude my nipples are perfect

Zack 9:33pm: ill believe it when i see it

Zack 9:33pm: anyway what did tr*ni say

She flips back over from her texts to Snapchat, only to see that it’s still unread.

Kim 9:34pm: idk she hasn’t opened it yet tf

Kim 9:35pm: pls keep talkin to me though i can’t keep thinking about it or im gonna get nervous

Zack 9:36pm: dont be nervous tf!! bitch is gonna nut to that pic but if she doesn’t hey baby what’s good

Kim smiles at that, despite the vulgarity of the sentence. He’s always been good at distracting her.

Kim 9:36pm: thx so much ily wtf

Kim 9:36pm: bitch still hasn’t replied yet!! tf is she doin it’s been 5 mins

Zack 9:37pm: ik ilyt x

She tries to ignore the fluttering in her stomach after that text. It’s probably just nerves building up about Trini.

Zack 9:37pm: wow i can’t believe T is rly out there having a life

Kim 9:38pm: jks she just opened it lmao im not freaking out

Zack 9:39pm: omg ok dw it’s just trini

Kim sighs. Right. Just Trini. There’s nothing to be nervous about.

She paces around her room for a bit, trying not to think too hard about what Trini’s reply might be, before she decides to abandon her phone for a bit while she goes to pick up a glass of water from her kitchen.

Trying not to rush back, she takes her time going back up the steps to her room.

All this is pointless, though, because once she crosses the threshold in her room, she’s diving onto her bed to check her Snapchat.

Opened 5 minutes ago, it reads, under Trini’s name. Kim feels her heart sink.

Kim 9:43pm: trini isn’t replying i don’t think she was ready for the nudes

Zack 9:44pm: wtf T.., i thought she had eyes

Zack 9:44pm: mayb she’s busy tho

Zack 9:45pm: lmAo can u imagine if u sent her nudes while she was babysitting that would suck haHa

Kim breathes a sigh of relief at that. Right. Maybe Trini’s just not in a position to reply to a picture like that.

Kim 9:46pm: omfg do u think i did., rip

Zack 9:46pm: how inconsiderate

Kim 9:46pm: fuck man im emo why can’t she take the hint

Zack 9:47pm: just let it marinate she’s the kind of person u need to b direct to

She frowns at that. Kim is used to playing games— it was basically cheerleading code, back in her day.

Figuring Zack is right, though, Kim accepts it, quickly getting a vague idea on how to be more straightforward.

Kim 9:48pm: tru I’ll tell her on monday i wanna have her babies

Zack 9:49pm: sounds good

-

It’s third turning fourth period on Monday, and Kim has a spare last period, but she tells Ms. Appleby that there’s a cheerleading meeting to get her out of third period early.

She’s been out of the squad for months, but it’s pretty clear the teacher has other things to worry about than high school drama, since she lets Kim out anyway.

Now, she’s pacing outside of Trini and Jason’s math class, watching the clock on her phone as the period comes to an end.

She only has to wait about two minutes after the bell rings for Trini and Jason to walk out together, the two still talking about whatever lesson they’d just shared.

“Hey, T,” Kim says, not even caring that she’s interrupting Jason’s questions about trinomials, “can I talk to you?”

Trini gives her a weird look, but nods anyway, “what’s… up?” She asks, looking confused by how much of a psycho Kim probably looks like right now.

Kim side eyes Jason for a second, before turning back to the smaller ranger, “privately?”

The yellow ranger shifts her questioning gaze to Jason, who only shrugs at her. “Um, okay,” she agrees hesitantly, letting Jason take her books to their next shared class together.

“Great,” Kim smiles, before grabbing her hand and leading her to the parking lot.

She doesn’t have a game plan yet, but her car seems like a private enough place to have this conversation.

-

The doors to her BMW slam shut, and the two girls sit in silence for a good five minutes.

“So…” Kim starts, finally breaking the silence, “how’s it going?”

“What?” Trini says, flatly, so that it doesn’t sound like a question.

Kim doesn’t notice, though. She’s too nervous. “Like what’s up? The weather is nice, isn’t it?”

It isn’t. It looks like it’s about to rain.

“Um, I guess,” Trini says, and wanting to cut to the chase, she asks, “Kim, what were you gonna talk to me about?”

The taller girl breathes slowly, trying to calm herself down. “Just,” Inhale.“ Gimme a second,” exhale. “I need to hype myself up.”

“... For what?”

“Um,” Kim chuckles nervously, shifting her body slightly so she’s fully facing Trini, “I thought I’d be way smoother about this.”

She’s by no means a patient person, but Kim is being uncharacteristically jittery, so whatever she has to say has to be big. “What is it?”

Kim doesn’t answer her, instead choosing to lean over the console and cup Trini’s cheek.

But before she can come any closer, Trini stops her, “what are you doing?”

“What…” Kim trails off, face redder than she ever lets herself be in public, “I’m sorry, I thought-“

“-it’s okay,” Trini interrupts, seeming to take pity on the usually confident girl stumbling over herself, “you didn’t think wrong.”

Kim is even more confused. “Oh. Then why-?”

“-because I don’t think you do.”

“What?”

Trini laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “Listen, Kim, I like you a lot and everything, but I don’t think you know what you want.”

“... what?” Trini isn’t making sense anymore. It’s like the more she tries to explain herself, the more confused Kim gets.

“If you still feel this way in a week, we can try again, but, I’m sorry, dude, I’m not one of your impulsive decisions.”

And with that last sentence, the shotgun door is slamming, and Kim’s watching Trini head back to class.  

She sits in alone in the car for at least twenty minutes, before finally turning on the ignition, still trying to figure out what the fuck all that meant.

-

She spends a good few hours at her personal pool at the mines before heading home to shower, trying to clear her mind of how she was just rejected.

But the therapy doesn’t do much, and she’s dying to talk about it.

Figuring he’s settled himself at home comfortably by now, Kim texts Zack.

Kim 6:55pm: i told trini at school today that I liked her and then she told me i didnt know what i wanted

Zack 6:57pm: what’d u say

Kim 6:58pm: ok well tbh I didn’t say anything I just tried to kiss her

Zack 6:58pm: lol wtf she ain’t got the clue still??  

Kim 6:59pm: ya idk.., she said she didnt wanna be one of my impulsive decisions so is that a rejection

It’s a genuine question. The tiny girl did say she could try again next week.

Zack 7:00pm: idk what that means dude. cant relate

Kim frowns. She hoped he’d have an answer for her or something.

Zack 7:00pm: everything i do is just bc i felt like doin it at that exact moment. T kinda thinks things out more

She nods along to that. She’s the same.

Briefly, she thinks about how Trini rejecting her made her feel today, and types in a few paragraphs before erasing each one.

Finally, she settles on her last paragraph, figuring Zack will understand what she means. He always does, anyway, even when she doesn’t have the words to explain.

Kim 7:05pm: tru.,, is it bad that i dont feel that sad about her rejecting me. I just mainly feel emo about how i couldn’t make out with her today.

Zack 7:06pm: ngl thats kinda fuckt but relatable

Kim 7:07pm: I just haven’t done it in so long im dying., my lips are like “where is another. i need to be moisturized by somebody else’s saliva”

Zack 7:08pm: Honestly S A ME

Kim 7:08pm: wait that gives me an idea

-

Anyone else would be nervous, but Zack isn’t really worried about the possibility of Kim showing up on his doorstep to make out with him. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it or anything, but the two of them run on impulse. He isn’t really one to overthink. It’s just Kim.

He’s in the middle of a game of 2048 when there’s a knocking on his door.

“Hey, Kim-“ he greets her as he opens his door, but before he can even finish his sentence, the girl in question jumps him, and he stumbles backward slightly, not quite registering what’s happening.

She wraps her legs around his waist, her arms coming around his neck, and it takes him a little while to register that Kimberly Hart is kissing him, and he still hasn’t made any move to kiss her back.

He quickly remedies this dilemma by shutting the door with his foot and placing his hands on her ass, trying to support some of her weight for her. Once sure of her comfortability, he lets himself melt into the kiss, and Kim responds enthusiastically, her tongue slipping into his mouth.

They stay that way for a few seconds, until he feels her grind slightly on his abs, and he sets her down onto the counter so he can kiss her neck.

“Is this okay?” Kim asks once her mouth is free, and he almost laughs at how belated the question seems— she’s already sporting a dark purple hickey on her neck.

“I don’t know,” he grins, and she frowns at him, “what underwear are you wearing?”

She rolls her eyes at him playfully before leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“Take my shirt off to find out. Not clickbait.”

[christinaengela]

There are many reasons why LED lights are better in a car than the older bulbs, starting with their much lower need for power. For example, if you forget your car’s lights on, it’s unlikely to run your battery down as quickly. Heat generation is another – I’ve had to replace more than a few interior light covers made brittle and cracked and even broken by extended exposure to heat from incandescent bulbs over their lifetimes! They’re also tougher and last longer. They also come in different colors, if you’re that way inclined. LED bulbs – if you’ll forgive the pun – are just cooler.

I have a fairly old car, a 1962 VW Beetle, and it’s what some people call “old school” – in fact, most of its equipment is still original factory machinery! You might want to upgrade the old bulbs on your old car to something shiny, brighter and new, and you may be wondering how. Let me tell you what I did.

The only upgrades I performed on this car when I inherited it from its original owner in 2015, was to change the 6 volt electrics to 12 volt so that I didn’t have to push-start it every morning or spend nearly R3000 on a new 6 volt battery! All this entailed was to swap the 6 volt generator with a 12 alternator, and of course, all the light bulbs.

Recently I decided to upgrade the standard, dim incandescent light bulbs to LED replacements. For the most part, this went perfectly fine and without a hitch. I started in the interior of the car – and almost immediately ran into a wall – aside from finding a replacement LED light for the roof light fitting easily enough, I was unable to locate a single LED light replacement for the instrument bulbs! In the meantime, satisfied with the brighter, cooler interior light, I decided to replace what I could with what I could find – and work on the trouble-children later.

The standard indicator, brake/night light bulbs are easily replaced with a wide variety of LED equivalents that you can buy for not much at virtually every car accessory store in PE – and then some!

I even found LED park-light bulbs – but, when it came to the headlights bulbs, that’s where I seemed to hit a wall!

First, the standard three-pin fitting (labeled H4 by the peeps who looked at me like I was from Mars when I asked for a set of LED headlight bulbs with the “regular, ordinary 3 pin plug fitting”) is apparently easily available – when it’s in stock!

As with everything nowadays, LED headlight bulbs are available in a diverse variety – you get the ones that look almost exactly like the original incandescent items, being the same size – and then you get the ones that have fancy heatsinks complete with miniature cooling fans built into the back, with the connector on the end of a short cable behind!

In fact, as it turned out, I had to do a little digging to find some. For example, when I asked around, one car accessory shop (the one everybody seems to think of first and is named after a king with the golden touch) was completely sold out – across town – and didn’t know when they would restock.

Another place I tried had some high-end bulbs for sale – to the tune of nearly R2000 for a pair! “Well, we do cater for people who enter car-shows, y’know.” The guy apologized when he saw me turn pale and lean on his counter for support.

I guess he felt a little sorry for me, because he was nice enough to invite me into his workshop, where he demonstrated the awesome power of the expensive bulb on his test bench!

“Look,” I said, blinking furiously while still seeing spots, “all I want is a pair of nice bright headlight bulbs with the right fitting – LED ones – not something that could be weaponized or fry eggs from across a garage!”

“Ah.” He smiled, and then referred me to a small shoppie on the Bridge that sells everything from snow-globes and mp3 players to train-sets and crossbows. “Try them, they have some Chinese-made ones there for R150 a set. Of course, they’re not as good as these.”

Of course not, Bob, of course not. But I could live with R150 a lot easier than I could with R2000 – even if the fancy ones could probably yset the car in front of Dolly on fire.

So that’s what I got – a set of very nice looking LED headlights for R150 in a neat, stylish box – with the H4 fitting at the back, even though it was attached to a cable on the back of the bulb. They had little heatsinks topped with cute miniature cooling fans too! I went home, feeling very pleased with myself!

That afternoon, I set about taking the bug’s headlight units out in preparation to fit my new acquisitions. Dolly is a 1962 model, so she has the more stylish sloping oval-shaped headlights, and a slightly different bulb-mounting fitting than most later models post 1967. As it turned out, taking the old bulbs out was the easy part. I was in for a bit of a surprise.

The brand new LED bulbs were very shiny and pretty and high-tech looking – but there were a few problems. They didn’t have the right collar plate that seated the bulbs into the reflector opening firstly, and secondly, the heatsink and fan built onto the back was too big to fit through the bulb-mounting ring!

The bulb’s H4 plug worked just fine alright – I plugged it in and tested the lights – they were nice and bright and switched between dipped and beam as they were supposed to… but how the Edgar Allan Poe was I supposed to get them to fit the headlights?

Horrifying visions of duct tape and nightmares involving bits of wire and cable ties filled my head! No, I don’t work like that, I chided myself… Definitely not! Or, wait a minute, or I could just put the old bulbs back and return my hard-won wares to the shop in the hope of a refund? Er… no. I didn’t want to do that either. There had to be a way, I thought.

I took the whole lot inside with me and sat on the couch beside my love to have some coffee while I mulled over the dilemma. How the hell was I going to make this lot work? About half an hour later, after holding this part against that and postulating ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybe I coulds’, I had an idea or two, and took the first headlight and bulbs new and old with me to the workshop.

The problem was the cable – it came out via the side of the rear of the heatsink unit, as opposed to directly out of the back – where there was a small fan intake to aid in cooling the heatsink. This prevented the ring housing from passing over the top of the bulb.

I overcame these issues by addressing one at a time. I removed the collars from the LED units easily – they slipped off without any fuss. Next I took the correct collars off a pair of old headlight bulbs – you can see how I did it in the photos, using a screwdriver handle and light hammer – and cleared the center holes so that they would allow the LED part of the new bulbs pass through as far as they could without being actually fitted to the bulb.

Why not dispense with the collar entirely? Well, because the mounting ring contains a spring with presses against the back of this collar in order to hold the unit to the reflector housing. Without that, the whole lot would be loose and might need something like duct tape to hold in place – and I didn’t want that!

With that out of the way, I looked at ways to make the mounting ring fit over the heatsink – which was about the same girth as the hole in the center. Trouble was, it wouldn’t pass over it from the rear due to the position of the cable, and for a moment I considered cutting a gap through the ring to allow it to do so, but decided against it. I didn’t want to make any irreversible changes to the originality of the car. Headlights like that are either very rare or very expensive to replace y’know!

Instead, I simply adjusted the edges of the hole in the ring with pliers and did the reverse – inserted the bulb unit into the hole from the back, and adjusted the edges of the hole so that it had a fairly firm grip and wouldn’t just fall out again.

With a bit of tweaking and refitting and more tweaking, I got the first headlight together, and then did the same thing on the second. Both went into the bug without a hitch, despite a reduced gap behind the headlights in the headlight buckets. I wondered how that would affect the new-fangled cooling fans in the back of the headlights… but in the time since I fitted them, several weeks ago now, I haven’t noticed any problems. The best thing about doing it this way, is that it makes no permanent changes to your older classic car – if like me, that sort of thing worries you! If the fancy took me, I could whip out the new LED bulbs and replace them with stock units without a problem.

Incidentally, you might want to remove these little things from your headlights (if they still have them) – they basically serve no purpose other than to make your headlights even dimmer!

Dolly now has nice bright LED headlights, and I feel a lot safer in driving on overcast or rainy days when other road users drive like they’re the only cars on the road! Driving at night is now also much less stressful an experience!

Dolly’s feeling all bright-eyed and bushy tailed – see you later, we’re going for a drive!

Pictures included – enjoy!

Have a DIY day!

Cheers!

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If you’d like to send Christina Engela a question about anything on this site, or her life as a writer or transactivist, please send an email to christinaengela@gmail.com or use the Contact form on her author website.

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Easy DIY Fit LED Headlight Bulbs To An Older Car There are many reasons why LED lights are better in a car than the older bulbs, starting with their much lower need for power.