#one night only ralph lauren

[nouearth]

feel the rush.

tom holland x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. rushing a fraternity is highly-competitive, and all-so overwhelming. if it was up to you, you wouldn't have participated in the first place. fortunately, tom was here to provide you all of the shortcuts in receiving a bid to the greek life, as long as you did a bang-up job.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 5.5k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 college!au 〳 frat!tom 〳brief alcoholic drinking 〳 closeted!reader 〳 reader is kinda religious coded 〳 sexual content: top!tom, bottom!reader, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), humiliation, dirty talk, muscle worship, scent!kink.

“You know you’re not exactly dressed for the occasion, right?”

The door closed behind Tom, sectioning you off from the party. The atmosphere of the event was tangible regardless. Strong beats throttled from wall to wall, tremors from a familiar song tickling your feet. Chants, albeit muffled, were resonant as you could only presume that someone executed a keg stand for the nth time of the night.

Chug, chug, chug, chug, and the crowd roared as if downing a keg of beer prevented Earth from being infiltrated by extraterrestrials. Granted, that was within the best scenario, in which alcohol and everything loud and deafening like university students wanting to fit in were highly toxic to those devious space invaders.

“What—how do you mean? Rushing is pretty formal, isn’t it? That’s what my mom tells me, anyway.”

You felt small from Tom’s comment, taking a peek at yourself in his mirror and shamefully finding nothing out of the ordinary with your white dress shirt, polka-dotted tie, and khaki pants. Though, you had to be honest. It wasn’t a fair assessment, considering you were judging under the purple hue of his dim lights. The compact size of his room certainly didn’t help either.

“Yes and no. Obviously, you don’t want to look like a slob. But you also don’t want to stand out too much. You’re not going to be a Greek if you wear Ralph Lauren from head to toe—that’s obnoxious. It looks like your mum dressed you for the Lord’s Supper or someone’s granddad, which is frankly the worst offender: don’t look like a square.”

“These are all I have—duly noted—so, it’s okay to dress… like you then? Won’t I blend in with everyone else?”

Tom wore a snapback, a blue polo, and white cargo shorts—which was brazen of him considering the amount of drinking and bile you had seen before the party had even began. It was simple to replicate. If it was your mother’s judgement, she would have all the men and women cover up their legs and arms, while embarrassingly leaving you as the prime example of what a gentleman should dress like.

But your mother wasn’t here, was she? Which meant, you could enjoy the holy sight of Tom’s biceps threatening to burst his shirt at the sleeve, his bulky chest at the placket—all for a little while longer before your intuition stepped in at the call of your mother, and forced those thoughts to scurry off.

That was ungentlemanly.

“That’s the point. You blend in, which means you put in the extra effort to get you noticed by the brothers—by us. Outfit aside, I reckon you’re off to a mighty start. Could be a pledge if you keep this up. I’m certainly noticing you,” Tom muttered after taking a sip of his beer, backing you with small, but imposing steps, until your ankles knocked against the footer of his bed, making you fall back. “Here, loosen up.”

He handed you his beer can.

“I don’t—“

“Just a sip to get in the mood. Not asking you to get blackout drunk here, Christ.”

“Sorry, mama.” You tipped the can into your mouth and instantly, the first taste of lager made you grimace, your face and body shriveling up like the bitter bubbles in the back of your throat. “That’s not… pleasant.”

“You get used to it.”

You were an easy target, weren’t you?

All you had to do was lurk around the party like a lost puppy, head and shoulders down as if the entire objecting of rushing was the complete opposite of being noticeable, and then Tom came around to your aid. He flashed that confident, gorgeous smile of his, immediately knowing you’d do anything to receive a bid from anyone at Alpha Kappa Psi, to be a pledge, without ever doing the hard-work of politely boasting about yourself to complete strangers.

Using your body was easier.

“You’ve done this before?” Tom took the can out of your hand and set it on his desk. He joined you at the foot of the bed after, his thigh touching yours. Then his hand on your knee, rubbing to simultaneously appease those nervous twiddling fingers of yours, and to warm you up.

“Yes—but don’t tell my mom, all right? She doesn’t know that I’m—Just… a couple of hook-ups back at home. Nothing much.” You nervously laughed to fill the silence, watching Tom’s hand warm your knee in gentle strokes that seem to ascend closer to your thigh with every cycle.

He stopped at your inner thigh. “I don’t plan on it unless you do a bad job. And/or your ass somehow rips my dick off and I need someone to take accountability for your actions.”

Your body straightened when Tom began kneading at your tender skin. “Not funny, I mean it.”

“Relax, I’m not telling your mom. It’ll be fun…” With one smooth motion, Tom turned his snapback around, the visor facing the back, and his mouth lowered to the shell of your ear. “And if I can be honest…? It turns me on knowing you’re hiding such a dirty secret from your poor mother.”

There was a shuffling, and then a firm grip on your nape that made your breath hitch. Before your instincts to pull away could react, Tom drew you in for a pressing kiss.

You breathed in, sucking the taste of liquor into your lungs, and trailed after the sweep of his lips. His nose smashed against yours, you could practically hear him inhaling you, and you barely got a sound out before your lips were pushed apart with Tom’s wet tongue. He tasted of familiar lager, yet certainly much more appetizing than drinking from the source itself as you pressed closer to him, welcoming him into your mouth with messy licks to the slithering muscle.

“Mm…”

Electricity shot up your spine when his tongue began properly mingling with yours. Sparks ricocheted off your cranium, then back down to your toes, where they flexed and brought the rest of your legs onto Tom’s bed. Heat flushed through your veins, the kiss all-consuming like Tom had needed your moans to survive. He drew you in closer, holding you close, exploring your mouth with his. You let out small whimpers and pressed into him, drowning yourself in his groans as your hand experimented with desperate tugs and kneads to his growing erection. He licked and nipped at your lips in revenge, countering your touch with a much more brazen hand down your khakis and briefs, toying with your bare chub in his palm.

“Had my eyes on you since you walked through that door,” Tom’s breath spilled over your neck, kissing at the stretch of skin in between the seconds of stripping your clothes off and his after. “You stuck out like a sore thumb. Have no idea why you thought you even had a chance, but then I thought about it for longer, watching you stick to the walls, observing everyone, drinking our punch. I knew you weren’t as innocent as you looked.”

You were lost in this sanity. Your lips were swollen and nearly numb from use, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. They tingled in all the right ways, sending signals to your exposed cock, throbbing out in the open air after many clumsy movements of shimmying yourself out of your pants and briefs.

You helped Tom with his clothes, fingers swiping across his muscular back when you pulled off his polo, palms brushing over his toned thighs when it came to undoing his shorts. Surprisingly, no briefs to remove after, which made you even harder, even when you were nearly assaulted in the face with the spring of his erection.

All of Tom was impressive, especially his hard, thick cock.

“Mom told me to make some friends—“

When Tom returned his grasp onto your nape and pushed your head toward his groin, you lost all semblance of self-control. He held you close enough to smell his cock, but far enough to deprive you the pleasure of having him in your mouth. He smelled salty, something of sweat that made your nostrils flare for more, so you pushed your head. You sniffed, lowering yourself until your nose was buried into his heavy balls, and inhaled your curiosities.

The aroma of Tom’s musk was familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was intoxicating. The scent was strong and pure when you pressed in. It was here, a pungent assault to your nose when you took another indulgent breath of his sweaty balls, and your senses went haywire when Tom’s fingers dug into your nape, scraping sweet lines of fire across the nape of your neck, and pulled you over his leaking cock.

Your inability to control yourself was as much of an arousal for Tom, judging by how his cock was twitching with every breath you took to fight off the urge in gulping him down.

“Wow, you really are a momma’s boy, aren’t you? Bet you have her constantly in your mind, telling you what’s right from wrong, don’t you? Tell me, what’s she saying while you’re sucking me off?”

“I don’t know what—mmf!”

Just like that, your mouth was full of Tom’s smell, full of him, god. Your eyes snapped shut and you choked down a moan as you took his thick cock into your mouth at the help of Tom’s bruising grip. One hand braced on his toned and flexed thigh while the other was wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady in your mouth. Your lips wrapped snug around him, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue over veins—multiple veins that were the source of his pre-cum leaking into your mouth like a broken faucet.

Salt spread on your tongue, wakening every taste bud to an early bloom as you squeezed and stroked him at the base, forcing out more drips of pre-cum onto your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth’s so warm…” His eyes widened at the warm and wet embrace of your tongue slobbering over his cock, groaning at the obscene sounds of your saliva spit-shining his shaft as he was leaning on his elbows. “God, look at you.”

“I’m doing okay…?” You gasped after pulling his cock out of your mouth, spitting out the thick, droopy web of saliva that connected your lips to Tom’s shaft back over the plump, swollen glans. You looked up at him for approval, wide-eyed and dazed, recovering from the stretch Tom had provided your mouth seconds prior.

When you needed a breather, you licked at the underside of his cock, tending to the inches you couldn’t possibly fit inside of your mouth with multiple tantalizing strokes of your hand. You spread your spit thick over his hard flesh, massaging every spit bubble until his cock and balls were moisturized with the slick of your mouth.

“Better than I could imagine, honestly…” Tom marveled with a chuckle, exhaling slow and deep from his gut to seemingly keep himself from spilling too early from your unrelenting strokes. His toes wiggled in his socks, a tic you found yourself simpering about because it was rather the opposite of Tom’s imposing demeanor.

He pressed two fingers against his own tongue, slicking it up with spit, before shoving them into your mouth to get a second opinion on your cock-sucking skills. Tom hummed, his hand removed from your nape to hold your chin up while he watched you take his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight, sucking lips.

He seemed pleased.

Somehow, it was more intimate sucking his fingers off. Tom was staring. He had always been, which made you nervous since he introduced himself to you. But he was staring, as if he could control your every move with a simple look, as if he was capable of communicating with you without uttering a word. His lips parted, his brow raised, and you quickly caught on to reflect upon his wishes, diligently opening your lips to welcome a third slicked up finger into your mouth.

Right then and there, you figured Tom had taken your brain cells hostage and forged them to work in his favor. Whatever he wanted, you were absolutely pleased to do without a single complaint peeping from your end.

He pulled out embarrassing sounds that would’ve gotten you stoned if your mother ever heard them from your room. His other hand worked on your leaking cock, massaging your testicles and palming the plump tip, because he can—because you let him.

You were Tom’s puppet, and your body was at his disposal.

“See? This is fun, right?”

He slid his fingers out of your mouth ever so-slowly, the dim light catching onto the trail of spit that bridged his fingers and your tongue with a magical glint. They eventually lost their sparkle when Tom was quick to bring his hand to your ass and wet your exposed rim with a finger, circling the flesh at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“M-mm…”

It was pathetic how deprived of touch you were.

Something as simple as a tease made you writhe on all fours. All it took was a lazy stroke of his finger for you to arch your back and draw your ass out. You couldn’t manage more than a moan as Tom guided you flat on your stomach and himself behind you, continuing his taunts after freshly lubing his fingers and throbbing cock.

Upon the next turn, Tom had the generosity of delivering you of a fill that had been making your cock leak into his sheets, that had been making you rock your hips like you were an animal in heat.

After pushing your legs apart, Tom slowly slid one finger inside of you, his mouth opening in rapport, but also in wonder, as your tight hole welcomed his thick digit in with such warmth, your body locking up as pleasure entered your body.

“C-Christ…” you hissed, thighs clenching and ass squeezing around the foreign intrusion. Something like panic, mixed with agonizing, desperate need, froze you in your place, yet you could feel your body melt, beads of sweat forming over the slope of your tense shoulders and back muscles. Every contact point of your body meeting his, from his firm hand kneading your plump ass, to the tender push and pull of his finger, scorched.

“I don’t know, (M/N)… I don’t know if you can take my cock. My finger can barely move. Might have to call it a night…”

The thudding of your heart muffled your ears as Tom pressed in another finger after slowly working you open. Upon instinct, you closed your legs, only for Tom to spread them back apart before your sweaty thighs could meet, keeping yourself exposed and bare under his direction.

You chewed on a whimper, your face pressing into a pillow in your arms while Tom’s two fingers curled and pumped deep inside of you. You felt yourself pulsate around him, the tight ring of muscle unrelenting in its grip around his fingers, but Tom was determined to break you, another digit joining the pair of fingers, demeaning the tightness of your hole with an obnoxious whistle while pushing into your resistance. “Damn, look at that hole… barely fitting in three fingers.”

“N-no, I can take it. Please…” you gasped on an onslaught of curls, fast and repetitive until you were stretched enough for Tom to yank his fingers completely out of you and quickly feel withdrawal symptoms of his fill. Your thighs shook, your ass pushed out for more, your hole twitched in rapport—you murmured a whine that you needed Tom to hear, but was too self-conscious to let it be known, so you settled biting into his pillow to resist your throat from spilling.

“Such a shame. I thought you made the perfect fit for A.K.P., too.”

His touch was soft and exploring, smearing the sweat on your back over the expanse of your ass and covering it in a humiliating sheen that you’d reckon Tom was stroking himself to upon picking up on the lewd, slick sounds of lube sliding over something thick behind you.

“S-stop, stop, please. I-I’ve taken it before, just—give me a chance, yeah? Please? Hear me—feel me out?”

“You’re that desperate, huh? Don’t know if you need the pledge more, or my cock…”

“Your cock… Tom, please—“

“So, you wouldn’t mind if you received nothing in return, as long as my cock was inside of you? Fucking you? Breeding you?”

“No, I just—“

No, no, no. I don’t want you to stop. Please don’t stop. Your ass communicated those pleas in desperate wiggles. A strong smack to your ass cheeks meant to halt you in place, but it only made your hips more fervent as you graciously backed into the thick of Tom’s cock, reaching back and giving him a needy pump or two, then slid him against your crack.

A needy moan escaped when you felt the weight of his cock sandwiched between your cheeks.

“So, you don’t want my cock? I’m confused on what exactly you’re telling me. Hurry, before I lose my patience.”

You felt a stickiness to your rim. Peeking over your shoulder, you took a glimpse of Tom presumably tracing your hole with his cock and spreading his pre-cum thick over the smooth flesh. The small space grew humid with the tension between your body and his, heavy breaths adding onto the heavy air as Tom rocked into you, holding you by the waist, gliding his cock through the wetness of your lubed ass cheeks. His shaft rubbed over your hole, and your cock throbbed and leaked in between your legs at the chance that anytime now—Tom could breach you open, and fill you wondrously. Your hole clenched at the thought, aided by Tom’s hands pressing your cheeks tighter around his cock as it slid over you.

If only you could command your asshole to open, because you would’ve taken him in by now.

“I want you inside of me, Tom. F-forget the pledge, I just—I need something, someone inside of me. Please, just—Christ, fuck me. Fuck me with your thick cock. Fuck your cum into me. Fuck my ass until I’m nothing but a gaping hole dripping with your seed. Don’t even care if we never see each other again, please, Tom—”

Your eagerness took Tom by surprise, making him chuckle and slap his cock over your blinking hole before resuming on sliding his shaft against your crack, hopefully for one last turn. “Who knew you had such a potty mouth?”

You don’t know what drew you back to looking at Tom again. Maybe it was the hard, brawn structure of his body, cut straight from a sculpture of the most heroic Greek warrior. The firm lines of his abdominal muscles, or the way his snapback was adjusted backwards, emphasizing his soft, yet handsome looks. All in all, you didn’t mean what you said.

You would absolutely care if you never saw him again.

He was too good.

His rough hands over your ass, smacking them whenever you would try to angle your hips in a way to fit him in, were too good. His delicate kisses on your neck, back, and shoulders, quelling the tremble of your limbs, were too good. His soft lips, when you and him met halfway until your mouths were exchanging breaths, making the effort of holding yourself still against him excruciating, were too good.

Tom’s lips ghosted over yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You groaned as he supported your core with a strong hand, opening your mouth to take more. Every part of you, even the moisture in your body, wanted to touch him. You were sweating, drooling into his mouth, leaking into Tom’s palm when he wandered down to stroke your cock; all strong indicators that you were losing control, if you hadn’t already.

His voice, as he murmured something about your body in your ear while he was gathering you against him, was too good. His breath forced itself between your lips, breathing out a supply of oxygen into your mouth, into your lungs, to prepare you for the inevitable, and you had never felt so fragile before—especially so, when you found yourself quickly using up Tom’s oxygen when he pushed his cock into you without hesitation, without warning, your body hammered by a thousand needles in the process.

“T-Tom!” you hissed in a breath, but it only made the grip on your hips more strident when his thrust made you collapse back onto all fours. It wouldn’t be surprising if your skin was blemished with bruises the very next day with the way his fingers dug into your flesh.

Tom was generous enough to let you adjust to his size, indulging in the warmth and tightness of your entrance with only the tip of his plump cock despite feeling like he had toppled your backside with all of his body weight. Even then, those minuscule ruts were enough to make you whimper out of agony.

“So fucking tight…”

Tom pulled himself out and spread your ass cheeks apart, marveling and silently wondering to himself how he was going to puzzle himself inside of you. Some spit would surely help. He licked his fingers, then pressed it over your swollen hole, smoothing the skin before pushing the tip back in, having only a tenuous grasp on his self-control.

After the burning mellowed with the help of multiple deep exhales and kisses from Tom, you felt yourself finally unravel the moment he moved his hips. Your fingers raked against his abs as you reached back to pace his hips, palm on his pelvis to keep from completely ruining you. A shiver ran down the length of your spine as Tom smoothed a hand over your back, then kept it at the lower half, pushing deeper into you while he held you still. You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, pleasured yet disoriented by the ample stretch Tom was providing you with. It gutted the fog of arousal, you could feel your hole instinctively pushing his cock out with overwhelmed pulses, but Tom was persistent, driving into you deeper— harder—the moment your body tried to resist him.

“Don’t mind it hard, right?” Tom asked against your ear, gruff in between his slow, yet deep strokes.

“Please,” you whimpered, barely getting the word out before Tom’s hand found its way to your mouth, covering it and holding your head back at the millisecond your answer registered in his brain, giving him the green light to pummel you relentlessly.

Your eyes popped open when Tom soared, bucking his hips wildly into you. Cries of pleasure, your whimpers and moans of being hammered with such overwhelming desire for your body, were muffled into the palm of Tom’s hand. He squeezed your cheeks, loud groans leaving your throat, and your torso arched into the mattress.

The brutal stretch was what you’d been needing. All this pent up sex drive that you had been harboring for so long came exploding out of you like molten lava, scorching your torso and all in effect. Your body was on fire, coupling with Tom’s as sweat dripped from his forehead, and somewhere onto your backside. Your mind emptied out while you hovered in the space between deprived arousal and complete ecstasy, only perfected by Tom’s cockhead screwing into your tight, clamping hole.

“Open,” Tom demanded with a huff, and you did as you were told at the prodding of his fingers. You welcomed him in with the parting of your lips, luring each digit with the curl of your wet tongue. “You like that? You like taking my hard cock like this? Fucking you open until you’re nothing but a hole? God, look at you drooling…”

As Tom pumped inside of you at a steady pace, angling his hips so he stretched you wider, you suckled on his fingers as they remained hooked over your mouth—you were starting to guess that he loved having them sucked, or at least, liked playing with the idea of having himself inside of you in more ways than one.

It was a messy affair. Pools of saliva leaked from either corners of your mouth. The smell of sex was thickening in between the heavy pants that you and Tom would collectively exile. It wouldn’t be long until your body was drenched in sweat, and you’d come to realize that you wouldn’t be alone in that department. Tom had his sweaty arm around your throat, pushing all of his body weight onto you and gutting you open with the deep hammering of his thrusts. His chest rumbled with wild growls as he pounded into you from behind, burying your hole to the root of his shaft, fucking you with the salacious sound of his heavy and musky sack slapping against your sweat-stained taint. You whimpered when his cockhead brushed past that sweet spot of yours, an unfamiliar feeling that you had no doubts in wanting to befriend.

“O-oh, that’s s-so g-good—“ You bit into his forearms, the thick vein pulsing through looking appetizing, and you were glad you did it because—it was like an ‘on’ switch for Tom.

“Taking my cock so well—your mom would be disgusted, wouldn’t she? Knowing her baby boy is taking a man’s cock. Want you to remember this. I don’t care how many cocks you had before me. I want you to remember what my cock feels like, digging deep inside of you. And when I’m done with you, I don’t want you coming home, crying to mommy—because I’ll never be done with you. Once you get your bid, you’re fucking mine.”

This was it.

This was Tom at his peak performance.

And your body was at his mercy.

He pulled out, flipped you over, then hooked your legs over his shoulders before resuming in his relentless rapture.

You stroked yourself to the image before you, a tight fist around your aching cock, squeezing from base to tip, spreading your pre-cum down your already sticky length, while your other hand toyed with your nipples, playing with the perky nubs.

Tom’s muscular body dripped in sweat. His teeth gritted as he struggled to control his volume. Glimpses of the base of his cock would appear when he would pull out, only to be hidden by the trimmed hairs of his pubic hair when he would shove himself back in, veins of his large cock throbbing and basking in your warmth. Hard and strong kisses layered your ankles while Tom’s pecs jiggled with every thrust he made. Even if you weren’t being fucked right now, you could get off to this. You could come right now, to the absolute bliss on Tom’s face as he buried himself deep inside of you, impaling you with his cock, moulding your hole to the shape of his shaft.

It enthralled you knowing how much pleasure your body gave Tom.

The squeaking of the bed roped everything together, gathering all sorts of noises—lewd sounds of sex and delirious desire—like a beautiful symphony. Your moans against his were the choir when Tom came down to kiss you hard on the mouth, sloppy and wet as he explored you open both ways. His tongue curious into your mouth and his thick cock rearranging your guts.

Your hands freely roamed over the expanse of his broad back, clutching and scratching at his back muscles when he curled his hips in a way that made you arch your body off the bed and knocked the breath out of you. God, he was so strong. So buff. You could feel his back muscles move in sync with his hips, flexing and flaring as he sank his cock deep into you. Your body stuttered, your eyes shut tight, tears nearly welling from the utter pleasure, shriveling as Tom would batter your prostate with better precision every time his hips came down on you. You couldn't be bothered to find the proper words to tell Tom how good he was making you feel, so you settled for a mixture of gasps, whimpers, and a daring scratch over the length of his spine.

That was telling enough, right?

Tom growled at the sting overloading his senses when you made your marks, grazing his teeth and lips over the palm of your hand when he reached back to take and hold the culprit of the forming welts before him. You and him shared a gaze, a kiss when he lowered himself and briefly settled on imposing you with strong, but slow and deep thrusts. To catch his breath. To catch yours. You both exchanged breaths, swapped saliva, explored each other's mouths, held each other hands, and the intimacy of it all made it all the more tranquilizing for you.

“Gonna breed that ass of yours. Fuck, it’s perfect for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Have your hole dripping, gaping, and raw? Maybe I’ll get the bros to look at the mess you made. Maybe they’ll want in on it and have a turn at your body, too. It could be your initiation, hm? Could skip the entire process, and be a Greek, as long as you let all of us breed you. How does that sound?”

“Holy, s-shit—“

You pumped your cock, a familiar feeling quickly bubbling to a high from the pit of your stomach, all the way to your swollen nipples, and you knew what awaited you as that sensation wouldn’t falter. Your heart beat ran faster than the effort of caffeine. Even though it was muffled, the rhythmic beats downstairs were still resonant, and you were absolutely outpacing its tempo. The heat of Tom’s hands returned on your body. He caressed and rubbed your hips, thighs, chest, balls, and ass, all while he urged you to come.

“There we go. Good boy. Keep fucking that fist. Yeah, fuck—“

His palms smoothed over your skin, up the sides of your body, thumbs pressing into either sides of your hips, then maneuvered you with his strength to meet him half-way into his strong thrusts. His biceps flexed, thick veins demonstrating his rush of adrenaline and sheer strength as he brought you down onto his cock with thundering claps, sweaty skin contacting sweaty skin, constantly assaulting your prostate with his swollen cockhead.

It both frightened and thrilled you, your eyes blown, and you felt yourself quickly spill, thick and heavy over your stomach, knowing you were at Tom’s disposal. You shuddered, watching the thick ropes of cum fly high before splattering and soon pooling at the plane of your body.

“I’m close—“

“Come inside of me, please–“

You were panting as your cock finished spilling itself all over your stomach and chest, as Tom’s big cock pounded in and out of you with such ease now, the weight of his hips coming down on you making you continuously bounce on the mattress.

“Fuck.”

His breathing was even heavier than yours, laced with grunts as he used your ass like a toy, pulling hard and pushing you as he pleased, breaching you with the thick of his cock. His thrusts become wilder, sweat dampening his snapback as Tom mustered up the rest of his strength and energy to completely overpower you. His swollen cock dug deep, you could feel every veins about to burst. With a choke of your name, he delivered one more grandiose rut against your ass, the impact of his hips biting sharp into the back of your thighs, and filled you with his cum, burying you to the root.

“Holy shit…”

“O-oh, god—“

Warmth spread thick inside of you, and you writhed and groaned as your hole swallowed another fat fill. Tom’s body goes slack, crashing into your arms immediately, and he moaned on each slow thrust, creaming you from the inside and out. You strained toward him in desperation, wrapping your legs around his hips to lock him in place, and reaching over to his ass to push him deeper, to urge him to keep breeding you as your hole held Tom’s sensitive cock with gratitude, taking his thick seed without hesitation, until his cock veins stopped pulsating.

As promised, Tom kept you impaled, rocking his hips and kissing you once more, soft and passionate, something of him owing you one laced in the way he smooched your lips and refused to let you reciprocate—because Tom never came like that before. His hand was tender on your cheek, stroking the dried stain of drool that was left abandoned when he pulled away to look at you, properly this time. You sighed, brushing the snapback off his head to let his scalp breathe, and pulled him in at the introduction of a sudden draft, your legs still anchored by his hips.

You lay intertwined, sharing deep kisses in between moments of recovery, where the post-nut clarity rendered you and Tom into fit of collective shy laughter, incredulous to the affair both of you had just engaged in.

“So, you live on campus?”

“Oh—yeah. East side, near Turing…”

“Figured you’d be a science guy. Anyways, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Give me your phone.”

“Pick me up? For what?”

“Christ. Did I fuck the memory out of you or something? Bid day’s tomorrow. It gets hectic, so I think it’ll be better if you stick with me.”

“Won’t that… be suspicious?”

“Nah. Plus, I figured we’d get an early start on your initiation…”

“You mean—“

“Fuck, yeah.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[m0chisenpai]

Hi, could you do a Louis x Fem!reader x Armand? Like something where they are both obsessed with her and maybe she a little oblivious even tho they give her what ever she wants. I love your others too by the way.🫶🏼

desires of the heart

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

in which she has two immortals wrapped around her little finger

Author note: this sounds similarish to a loumand fic I got previously so I’m gonna build onto that one

Time in the penthouse seems to move slower. The days and nights felt blurred from adjusting your schedule to the ‘vampires’ Daniel interviews. And with each passing day, more and more do the vampires find themselves falling deeper into your heart. It is your own fault for falling for a pair of supernatural fanatics, though now they have proved their inhumane nature.

You had their own dead ones in the palm of your hand yet you remained so oblivious to it.

You find yourself spending your time less in your room and more in their company as they begin to reach the end. Daniel mentions during one of your dinners together that he finds them to be stalling. Louis speaks slower, finds himself struggling to remember certain parts.

It irritates him, but as you sit across him barely touching your own meal Daniel ends his rushing.

“Those books, are the older ones right?” You watch Armand hover above in the collection looking for more pictures of Claudia for your personal “research”. In your spare time you’ve begun compiling information from her journals and diaries, looking for pictures to put a face to the voice of the woman trapped in a child’s body.

“Yes, some of these are beyond your time,” he looks down at you slowly allowing himself to settle in front of you. You push your frames back up the bridge of your nose so you can properly look at the elder vampire.

“Can I see them?”

Louis watches amused from his seat as Armand holds you close to show you the books. Slowly he glides back up with you in his arms following your direction till you pick a small stack to sit with Louis and look through.

These are older photographs from his years in New Orleans. Family pictures, pictures from his childhood.

"Aw what happened to the fro? That's the cutest baby afro I have seen!" you pout as Louis pulls a family picture out. And he rolls his eyes as you pull your phone to take a picture.

"Times were different," Louis rolls his eyes and you scoff at his vague response. You page through the album carefully with gloved hands as you look at the dearly cared aged photos.

"Is that him?" your eyes settle on a duo picture, him and his brother side by side. Louis can only nod, his lips pressed in a line as you stare. In the picture his brother stands behind him, hand on his shoulder. He remembers that day fondly. They bickered on what to wear and settle on a pair of their old father's suits. "He was handsome. Definitely a sweetheart, I can tell by how he's looking at you here in this one."

When you look up at you him, you smile "I see you take after him." Before Louis can respond one of the workers has entered. Interrupting your bubble of peace. "Mr.Molloy has requested you in his room ma'am."

Armand's face immediately ices over into a glare, his response fiery. "Tell Mr.Molloy if he wishes for his help to return he can come and get them himself. She is not a dog."

"It's alright, the old fart does this all the time in the office." You go to stand stretching your arms overhead and quickly rubbing your forearms for friction. You're cold, Louis observes the goosebumps across your freckled shoulders from the slouch neck sweater you wear.

When you are are out of ear shot Louis speaks to the worker.

"Have the shoppers come in tomorrow morning for Mr.Molloy's intern. The girl needs proper clothing. My companion will be there to assist further."

Much to Daniel's distaste. you are like a child in a candy shop pointing to sweaters from Ralph Lauren's upcoming fall collection. But he hides his distaste giving you a smile when you happily show him the sweater that was 'giving Rory Gilmore but I wear it better.' Armand sits watching as you soar through racks and picking your items of choice.

You hesitate when a woman approaches holding a cases of lenses, "we offer these in prescription of course."

"Oh no these are fine."

"Pick one." Armand finally speaks up. When you look at him he is now sitting up, but the way he sits with his legs crossed, an arm draped across the back while the other rests atop his knee. His eyes a show of dominance, as if daring you to say no to him.

You settle on a thick marbled brown pair. But he stands to move in front of you, picking up a few for you to try. You try on several till you are pushing his hands away.

"The jade green ones as well as the golden wired ones for her," you grumble watching as he picks up the two for the woman to box. "We will have your prescription sent as soon as possible."

"Thank you but, this a bit much for a few days stay."

"We have no issue providing you your comforts whilst you work on the novel."

"Ok but-"

He raises a brow that silences any opposition. When you offer no more pushback, Armand places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the women who begin to drape you in abayas and scarves for your hair.

Daniel can only huff and look back to his laptop.

'CLEARLY three idiots in love with one another. Female is too incompetent to discern vampires obsession, affections.' He underlines idiots smirking to himself as he scribbles more notes about the three of you down.

You're nearing the end of the interviews. You can tell cause they spend any bit of time of the days glued to your side. You don't bring it up, you accidentally mentioned it in passing to Louis and his entire demeanor once so warm and gentle became...rigid.

He didn’t speak to you that night, but Armand was there to placate your worries.

Louis sits beside you on the couch now. Watching you listen and take notes. One earbud while your hand stops and moves to write at the most random of moments.

He’s eerily still with the only movement behind his eyes watching and hearing every single thing.

These days he's more brazen in his affections. Sitting closer, allowing his hand to linger when he passes your chai, playing with the baby curls at the nape of your neck. But there is something even more intimate as he sits beside you, watching you.

"Gonna keep staring me down like a creep?"

His lips perk up, "sorry cher. Just memorizing your face."

Your fingers stop typing, your train of thought halts for a second till they both return at the steady pace you had going. You’ll give him that one, your heart did feel fuzzy. But you’ll be damned to cry.

"Can a vampire love?"

Louis shifts a bit in his seat tilting his head upward, you wonder if he is avoiding your gaze or truly in thought. "I believe we feel immensely. Everything feels...deeper. Almost too much if I am quite honest. I think that’s why so many of us choose the sleep. These feelings are magnified."

Now it’s your turn to look up. "But if your entire being is dead, what is it that allows you to feel again? Your heart no longer works, your brain must not function, or maybe it does. But you are dead. How can the dead feel?"

Ah, that mind of yours. Louis loved it deeply. His eyes flicker to his joined palms till they return on you.

"I've heard stories, seen elder vampires that lived many lifetimes take their life because of the loneliness. At times, I myself felt it. It’s the silence, but as I said before you feel it double, he’ll even triple than the loneliness you may feel at times. Had our feelings died with us, then I do not think they would put an end to themselves."

You nod, pausing for a moment again. To feel that much it’s scary. It must be even scarier to love. Falling in love now, heartbreak even feels like it takes over your whole body. But to feel that even more, how can anyone survive through that?

"I feel it too," you pause for a moment, "it's the worst." When Louis doesn’t respond, you blank your lack of sleep or the stress of work that leaves you open and vulnerable. “I don’t think I could survive it. Loving at least. It hurts and it’s always taking. Leaving you high and dry in the end. I don’t….i couldn’t handle that again.”

Though Louis respects your boundaries, he feels the buzz in your bones. He hears the tremor in your voice, sees the mist of tears sitting in your eyes. A desire sitting on your lips. “What do you need?” It comes out as a whisper, yet it feels so loud.

And your response is just as quiet, “can you…can you just hold me. Please, Louis.”

The laptop shut and atop the table, and he is holding you close. Your eyes slowly fall shut as you wrap your arms back around him. He pulls you atop him and you squeeze him back hiding your face in the nook of his shoulder.

He must be shushing you or speaking but you can’t hear it, all you can do is soak this in.

You feel complete again, so whole.

[channieismyboy]

chanel chance

{dilf!seonghwa x f!reader}

synopsis: When y/n is alerted that there's been a flood in her apartment and no one can take her, what will she do when Mr. Park asks her to stay with him?

masterlist | part 3 | part 5

warnings: age difference (y/n is 21, seonghwa is 29), eventual smut, language, kind of slow burn, sad attempts at humor - wc: 2.3k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Everyday, a man lives a debilitating cycle. He wakes up, goes to work, sleeps, and repeats this endless circuit. He has gotten used to this schedule over the last few years. The only joy in his life would be brought on by his little daughter, whom he loves with all his heart. He tries his very best to put on a facade of happiness whenever he spends time with her. Wanting to protect her innocence from vague feelings of misery for as long as he possibly can, until he eventually matures.

There was no room for love in his life anymore. Romance is certainly unattainable for him due to his lack of availability. It is not like he does not have opportunities to date, there are plenty of women and men who often throw themselves at him. However, it is merely for his title or money. They want to gain something from him.

This man views love differently than the people who he converses with on a daily basis. Most of those individuals view marriage, or dating as a contract. As an opportunity to enlarge their company’s resources, get more publicity from the media, or even to trick the public to buy more of their products. Since this man has seen this happen numerous times in his lifetime, even had a hands-on experience of it in his home, he has made a choice that he would no longer give romance a chance. As those couples that marry for money, or titles, almost certainly end up unhappy, divorcing quickly after marrying, or scandals of them cheating on one another are posted publicly on the news.

However, this man’s principles had begun to change once he had met someone different. Someone who he found beautiful in every way imaginable, who made his heart skip a beat in a way he never knew it could…

This man is Park Seonghwa.

-

You check the time, it is now 11:37 PM. You're lying awake, staring aimlessly at your ceiling, with the fairy lights illuminating your otherwise dark room. Replays of a few nights ago rerun in your head. You think about how gentle Mr. Park was with you, and how caring he is with his daughter. It makes your heart ache. You sadly have never got to experience a proper father-daughter relationship, or even one at all. However, you're grateful you have your uncle and your aunt. They've truly made your life special in every way imaginable. Your eyes begin to feel heavy, and the familiar wave of tiredness hits you until you're asleep.

It is now saturday morning, today you will babysit Jieun and today you will finally see Mr. Park. You get slightly too excited about that last part, and shake your head at your thoughts. You have been thinking about him a lot recently, you really shouldn't, for the sake of keeping your job.

You wake up and check your phone, scrolling aimlessly through your socials and texts from Minho and Jisung. Replying to the endless amounts of texts they've sent along with pictures of them on their vacation to Jeju Island. You struggle to get through the pure amount of them.

The afternoon passes calmly. You quickly make yourself some dinner and shower after precisely picking out your outfit to go see Mr. Park while on a facetime call with both Minho and Jisung. as annoying they are, they are never caught wearing a bad outfit.

"Are you calling us so you can look great for Mr. Hot ceo?" Minho asks with a deadpan tone, which juxtaposes with the cute cat in his lap that he's petting every so sweetly. "You wanna impress him?" Jisung adds while wiggling his eyebrows.

"It's not that, I just want to look presentable is all" you fib, while showing them the black skirt, black stockings with a deep burgundy Ralph Lauren knit sweater that jisung had picked out. Minho looks at you with an 'I'm not buying it' face and you cave in.

"Okay fine! Can you blame me for wanting to look nice when babysitting a good looking ceo's daughter? Plus I do have to look professional for this job, I can't just show up in sweats. and he probably thinks I'm a kid, so it doesn't matter anyway" you say, opting for the look you have on.

"Honestly, I would do the same" jisung adds after applauding your look.

-

After your shower, you get dressed and put on just a bit more makeup than usual, and spray on your 'Chanel Chance' perfume. It won't hurt to look nice for the man anyway. You board the bus and sit down while listening to some music. you're now deep in thought, thinking back to minho's comment. it won't hurt to look good for the man anyway. He's literally a high power ceo, regardless of how he looked, you had to go to his home and look presentable anyway. with a posh neighborhood like his and such a fancy house like his, you would look like the odd one out not arriving dressed in the very few expensive clothing items you own.

Your stop arrives and you head out quickly, mentally preparing to meet John again and explain why you are there. You feel slightly awkward just walking up a hill with nothing else but your purse and phone in hand. You wish you had a car that can drive you around, but it broke down on you and is in the shop being replaced. You try not to think about the bill ahead of you, that's too many scary thoughts in a row.

Trailing along, you are soon met with John at the gate. He looks at you up and down. "Can I see some ID?" he demands. You open your purse and show him your driver's license. He lets you through, luckily Mr. Park's home is close to the gate, so it's not a far walk. You stop at the familiar home. it's 6:25 PM, you're grateful that once again you're early. You quickly double check your hair and retouch your lip gloss before knocking on the door. You wait a bit until it opens.

This time you are greeted directly by Mr. Park, and he glances at you up and down before welcoming you with a polite smile. You do the same, and note how nicely dressed he is. The black buttoned up shirt with just a few buttons undone tucked into his black trousers complement the glasses he's wearing, he look's so professional with them on.

"Hello Ms. L/n, it's nice to see you." he says with a slight smile on his face. "Hello Mr. Park" you greet back with a bright and polite smile.

"Laura, my housekeeper isn't here on Saturdays so it's just going to be you and Jieun for today. Please come in," he gestures into the home. You take off your shoes and enter the place after closing the door. You look around his place once again, still in shock by its size and beauty. Mr. Park sure has taste. You walk behind him and follow him to the living room, where Jieun is already sitting, watching cartoons.

He turns to face you, eyes directly on yours. Suddenly it's quite hot in the room. "I'll leave you both here and I'll be back just before 9:00 PM, call if anything happens, although I know she's in great hands" he says to you before saying goodbye to his daughter.

"Enjoy your meeting Mr. Park!" you say. He exits before lovingly wishing his daughter goodbye.

-

Your time spent with Jieun is always pleasant. She's as bright and playful as ever, telling you about her latest works of art (cute scribbles) and her excitement to learn more at pre-school. She has such a bright future ahead of her, you think. The time passes quickly as soon it's almost 9:00.

You hear the familiar pitter-patter of raindrops beginning to fall down, and you silently curse to yourself. You did not bring an umbrella with you and now you'll have to walk down in the rain until you reach the bus stop. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Jieun scream out for her dad. You raise your head up and you greet Mr. Park.

He places Jieun down and tells her to get ready for bedtime. She does just that after saying goodbye to you with a warm hug that you so happily reciprocated.

"Alright," he says while reaching into his wallet and pulling out many bills. "This should do it for the night" and he gives you the money. You check the amount and your eyes bulge out a little at the amount. 150$ you count and recount again quickly, this is much more than last time. You shake your head and attempt to give him back the money.

"Mr. Park, this is way too much. I cannot accept this amount."

"Please, just take it. It honestly isn't a lot for me and I'm just happy you made Jieun smile so brightly." His tone and expression are so genuine you have no choice but to give in and accept it.

"Okay, I'll accept it this time Mr. Park. Thank you very much."

You head to put back on your shoes and prepare yourself to walk back in the rainfall. He watches you intently, with his head turned to the side as he leans on the wall. You feel as though you're being watched by an eagle, as you feel his eyes never once leaving your form. your cheeks burn slightly.

"Are your friends here to pick you up?" Mr. Park speaks up. "No, it's just me on my own this time" you answer.

"You're not walking home are you? I didn't see a car parked in the driveway when you came." He asked with concern laced in his soft spoken words.

"No. I'm just going to walk to the bus stop nearby-"

"I'll drive you there then" he cuts you off. He sees the familiar look of 'you don't have to' already on your face, the one he just saw moments ago while paying you. Before he lets you speak, he explains himself. "I just don't want you to get a cold out in the rain. I need my babysitter to be in perfect condition, you know."

Yet again, Mr. Park has made it impossible for you to refuse him. "Alright, if you insist, then I have no choice but to say yes" you say with a smile, and you see him laugh slightly at your words.

To say his car is nice, would be a great understatement. You have no knowledge of cars, but even to a novice like you, this car is down right spectacular. The nicely polished black outside with leather seats, just how rich is this man?

Mr. Park opens the door for you and ushers you in gently. He gets in quickly after, and you glance at your phone, after realizing it's been buzzing for quite a while now. You see all the missed calls from your Landlady. Panic surges through you, did you forget to pay your rent? No you remember sending out the amount just a week ago. what could it be then? Mr. Park can tell you're anxious.

"I'm sorry," you mutter. "It's something to do with my apartment, could I quickly make a call?" you ask. "Of course, be my guest," Mr. Park says, gesturing for you to dial the number.

The phone rings and she picks up quickly. "Hello?"

"Ms. L/n, there has been a minor flood in the apartment. You must come quickly and evacuate all of your belongings. We'll need to undergo repairs for about 3 days." You let her speak, and your face drops.

You face Mr. Park and judging from his expression, he's heard everything from your call.

"Were there any damages to my apartment room?"

"Luckily your floor had no damages, it was the floors under you that mainly got affected. Still you'll need to leave for a few days. Please come quick and find a place to stay until then. Goodbye."

You hang up the phone and think to yourself silently. Wondering who you could stay with. Mr. Park asking you the same question out loud. Minho and Jisung are too far away and you don't have a key to their apartment you explain to them.

"What about your uncle?" Mr. Park asks.

"I wish but, they're having renovations and there's barely any room for them in the house." you answer.

It's silent for a moment, the raindrops splattering heavily as the rainfall speeds up, a storm is starting to form outside. You think about any other people you know that you can stay with. The list is already quite short.

"Stay with me," and you turn your head to meet, a shocked expression to his lighthearted smile.

"I really can't. I don't wish to intrude like that." you shake your hands in defense.

"Unless you have anyone else to turn to, I'm your best bet Ms. L/n. You won't be intruding anyway. I'm not uncomfortable with it and I think Jieun would be delighted to have you over for 3 days." he shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

This is the third time he has persuaded you this night. No wonder he's a successful businessman, he can talk you right into doing whatever wants, and you're not opposing any of it.

Staying with him won't be too bad right? I mean he must have room in this mansion of his. Plus he is always busy and I have class so we won't interact as much right?

Your face begins to heat up at the thought of being in such close proximity to Mr. Park. Wait, why are you thinking of that right now?

You exhale and look at him as you've made your decision.

"I'll stay with you."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

a/n: hey yall! so long time no see. i'm going to continue this series after not touching it for almost 2 years. i'm sorry for the delay but even i had to know how this was going to end. i hope some of yall are interested in it still (praying actually). anyways please enjoy this part, i'll see you soon!!

please let me know if you wanna be added to the tagslist!!

tagslist: @miamyre @flowersiinherhaiir @vvsmydiamonds127 @prodsh00ky @jhmylove @sunwoosberrie @jenotation @seonghwasstar @zwiehe @nagadiluc @kodzukein @heavenly-mobo @nevieatiny @smeetb0ne3 @yeosxxx @koalakoala8 @imalildelulu @sookacc @lunaa2210 @asjkdk @wal-nutt @iheartyeonjunnn @yoonsanbin

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie guessed that it was his own fault for waiting the last second to get a new one. He thought that he’d be able to wait it out. He was on the edge of graduating from his apprenticeship at the shop, so, so close to being able to afford the apartment completely on his own. But then his boss had to go and make it clear that nothing was happening until the New Year, a solid three months away.

His paycheck to paycheck life style wasn’t gonna cut it for that long. And that's how we found himself desperate enough to post a Craig’s list ad. What did he think was going to happen? That he’d get the creme of the crop? No. The only applicants he’d had were a chronic cigarette smoker who couldn’t wait to light up until after the apartment tour, a middle-aged guy who immediately told him that his ferrets free-roaming around the house was a non-negotiable, and some dude who wore polo shirts and looked like he fell out of a highschool rom-com. 

He should have chosen the smoker. But no, he had to go with the eye-candy. Despite the fact that he knew Steve would never look twice his way, even with the low odds that he even liked men. 

But he couldn’t help it. 

Eddie had been a failure when it came to romance ever since he moved out of his uncle’s place. Twenty-four years of conservative small town bullshit, all culminating into a completely lack of ability when it came to getting laid. Three more completely dedicated to making something of himself out in the city. He hadn’t been prepared to ward-off the model with the puppy dog eyes and the sob story of his last place flooding. 

Though in his defense, it wasn’t just from his extremely horny mind. Steve seemed polite enough when they first met. He was surprisingly sweet for someone openly wearing Ralph Lauren. So when he said that he could move in immediately, Eddie was sold. He didn’t even think to question Steve paying his first month of rent in cash. He was just relieved the worry about getting kicked out was officially gone. 

The first week had been fine enough. Eddie met a few of his friends who were helping him move in. It was a gaggle of twenty-one year olds, oddly enough.

“I was their babysitter,” Steve had sighed when Eddie asked about it, his eyes fond, “They got a little too attached. Now I’m an underage uncle for life.”

It was cute, another point towards Eddie’s slight pining. But then, Steve went back to work. 

Eddie didn’t care that he worked a night shift. He could understand that, tip-based work was pretty lucrative. He was pretty sure Steve was a bartender or something considering the crazy hours. He could handle a few bumps in the night while he got situated.

What Eddie couldn’t handle was Steve’s multi-hour long, middle of the night routine. He’d get home at three a.m. 

And yeah, maybe Eddie hadn’t been totally upfront about the downsides of this place when he got Steve to sign the sublet. Despite the price, their walls were paper thin. The advertised “soundproofing” of the place had only applied to hearing the neighbors. You could hear everything in this place, from the front door to their insanely loud showerhead. A fact that he assumed Steve would catch up on without Eddie having to act like an RA. 

With him and Gareth having basically the same schedule, Eddie had forgotten just how loud things could be. But Steve quickly gave him a reminder. Without fail, he’d hop into the shower first thing, the sound of the water pounding against the ceramic more than enough to wake Eddie up. Not to mention the singing. The good quality of his voice did not make up for the fact that it was tortuous at night. 

But it didn’t stop there. No, then he’d go to his room and talk for hours. Eddie had no fucking idea what kind of freak was sharing a five a.m. time table, but it was killing him. Whoever it was knew how to rile Steve up like no other, his laughter so clear through out the night that Eddie couldn’t focus on anything else. It was a lot, it was intense, and Eddie was losing his fucking mind. He tried to find time to talk to him about it, be civil about the whole thing. But when Eddie woke up Steve was dead to the world. When Eddie got home from work, Steve was already gone for his own. 

That’s how he found himself here. Wide awake for the fourth night in a row while Steve’s voice streamed through the walls. Every passing second had his pathetic crush on the man dissolving more and more. The last bastion between Steve and Eddie telling him to fuck off. 

an excerpt from my soon to be exchange fic. Of course I'm an extension needing bitch 😩😩😩

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 7]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: I know I always say this, but I am very excited for this part! lol I hope y'all like it! Also, if I forgot to tag you in the taglist, or if you'd like to be added, please let me know! I try to add people as they ask, but I'm afraid I'll miss someone. So just let me know! Thanks!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @parkinglot-nights @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

“How are you feeling about today?” Namjoon asked his client. 

Jimin was standing with you in the lobby of the courthouse, dressed in his best Ralph Lauren suit, keeping your hand in his. You sported a long-sleeve baby blue pencil dress from Versace that belted around the waist, with a pair of beige Louboutin heels. You chose your outfit knowing that the press would be there that day, and you wanted to appear put together and presentable for your fiancé’s case. Standing by him, with your engagement ring proudly shining on your finger, you could see the cameras outside through the lobby windows, snapping photos that will undoubtedly be front page news tomorrow. You understood fully that the direction the day goes would determine so much; the Park family name, the perception of Jimin as incoming CEO of the company, and most importantly, your future together. 

“I’m ok.” Jimin replied, gripping your hand, before turning to look at your face. “How are you feeling, my love?” 

“I’m ok, too.” You offered a sweet smile. Composed. 

“We’ll get through this.” Namjoon said. “I can’t imagine Judge Harmon being more difficult than he has to be.” 

“How is he? As a judge?” Jimin asks. 

“No bullshit, but fair.” Namjoon replied. “He’s worked in the city a long time, and he’s seen it all. But as long as he can see that you’re trying, he’s fair.” 

Namjoon glanced at his phone, checking the time. 

“We need to go in there, it’s our time.” Namjoon said. “Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for having your statement ready for me this morning.” 

“Of course.” You responded, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Anything to make this easier.” 

Jimin smiled sadly at your words. He wished it were easier; he wished the situation weren’t so difficult on you. He felt like a liar to your families, and to himself. He knew he’s already failed so many times in taking care of you, loving you, and giving you the life he knows you deserve. Yet here you were, dignified as always, standing by him in front of the world’s attention. He didn’t deserve you, and for the first time, he truly understood that deeply. But he was thankful that you were there nonetheless, holding his hand. 

The four of you walked down the hallway together, and you gave Jimin a quick kiss for luck before slipping away with Jung Kook into the public, gallery seats in the court room, behind Namjoon and Jimin’s council table. The court was empty otherwise, except for the other legal team at their table, as the judge ordered prior to that no cameras were to be inside for this brief decision. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge Joseph Harmon.” The bailiff announced, leading everyone in the room to stand while the judge entered, taking his seat at the bench. “You may be seated.” 

“Mr. Park,” Judge Harmon began, looking up from his glasses to the young heir. “It seems your council is asking for a deferral on your case today. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, your honor.” Jimin answered. 

“Your honor, my client is asking for a minimum ninety day deferral, in order to seek rehabilitation treatment.” Namjoon began. “We request to submit a treatment plan to the court, as well as a personal character statement written by the defendant’s fiancé.” 

“Very well.” Judge Harmon nodded, allowing the bailiff to take the paper work from Namjoon and bring it to him. The court was silent as he looked through the documents quickly. “And, why must the defendant miss his upcoming court dates for this? Could he not be escorted to and from the court during those dates, and return once the day is over?” 

“Your honor, it would be against the suggestion of his therapy team to remove Mr. Park from his in-person support for long hours at a time.” Namjoon reasoned. “His team, as well as Ms. Y/L/N, have requested in writing that Mr. Park focus solely on his health before his dates, as any distraction may disturb his treatment plan.” 

“Your honor,” The opposing lawyer spoke up, her tone annoyed. “Calling this case a ‘distraction’ is insulting to those who Mr. Park misled and defrauded out of their investments. I would argue that Mr. Park is attempting to delay this case in order to lower his chances of facing any consequences for his actions.” 

“If I may, your honor,” Namjoon responded, “I can assure the court that Mr. Park is not delaying consequences, as we feel that we have a strong case against these allegations. My client is simply doing the responsible thing; doing right by his family, his business, and his wife-to-be, by seeking immediate help for his addiction and behavior.” 

“And what behavior would that be, Mr. Kim?” The judge asked. Jimin shot Namjoon a wide-eyed panicked look, not wanting to reveal his private fight with you. 

You became nervous, as well. Jung Kook knowingly reached for your hand, and was surprised when you took it, locking your fingers with his for support. I’m right here, Y/N, he said to himself, as if you could hear his thoughts. 

“Emotional management courses, your honor.” Namjoon replied. “It’s standard practice for someone on this treatment path, as outlined by his recovery team.” 

“I see.” Judge Harmon said, looking at the blonde heir. Jimin was sitting upright, in perfect posture, trying to keep his composure under the weight of the judge’s look. “Mr. Park, I believe it may be best for you to seek treatment before we continue with the case. The court is granting you the request for a ninety-day deferral to focus on your health.” 

“Thank you, your honor.” Namjoon smiled, looking over at a very relieved Jimin. The prosecution lawyer rolled her eyes and tsked in disbelief, but Namjoon paid it no mind. 

Jimin turned around to give you a smile, and Jung Kook mentally thanked his luck that your fiancé didn’t see his hand in yours from where he was sitting, because Jung Kook wasn’t at all ready to let you go; to let you leave his hold, and run back to him. But Jung Kook knew he had to, as much as it hurt him. He knew, despite his heart begging at him to keep you close, that you weren’t his to hold on to. 

————————————————————————————————————

Namjoon brought you and Jimin back to your hotel room to help Jimin pack for his treatment, while Jung Kook retreated back to his office for the rest of the day. When you arrived at the suite, bottles were still scattered among the tables, floors and counters, reminding you of all of the terrible nights, not just the most recent incident, where Jimin had crossed the line. All of the times he messed up, not keeping his promise that he whispered to you that night in front of your families.

“Mr. Kim,” Jimin called out to Namjoon from the bedroom, who was gathering Jimin’s clothes from the closet nearby. “Would you be alright with leaving Y/N and I for the afternoon? My driver will make sure I’m on time for my check-in, I just… I’d like to have some private time with her.” 

“Of course, Mr. Park.” Namjoon said, bowing respectfully. “If either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to call.” 

“Thank you.” Jimin said, waving to him on his way out, before turning to you. 

You were picking up empty bottles with a sadness in your eyes that Jimin never, in his life, wanted to see again. 

“Hi, my love.” Jimin said as gently as he could, approaching you. He could see that sadness so clearly the closer he came, and saw just how deep in truly ran. “Honey, come here. I wanna talk to you.” 

You nodded, and reached out for his hand. Jimin led you to the bedroom, and sat you on the bed before bending down on the floor by your legs to look up at you, making you giggle. 

“Jiminie, what are you doing?” You laughed, earning a smile from your fiancé. 

“Jiminie? Honey, you haven’t called me that in so long.” He replied. “I just wanted to look at you, my love, and I wanted to ask what my pretty girl is thinking about.” 

“I… I don’t wanna fight anymore.” You replied, your voice so quickly turning soft in exhaustion and sadness. 

“There won’t be any fighting today.” He said, rubbing his hands up your legs in comfort. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I’m just tired.” You responded truthfully. “I’m so tired, baby. I can’t… I don’t know what to do…” 

“Shhhh, I know.” Jimin said gently, looking at your face as you spoke. He could see it from the dark circles under your eyes, and the dullness of your skin. “I know I haven’t made things easy on you, and I’m sorry honey. You must be so worried all the time, right? Not sleeping or eating much?” 

You nodded to confirm. “Jung Kook made japchae, and that was the first full dish I’ve eaten in a while.” 

Jimin smiled unconvincingly, hating to know that another man took care of you in the way he should’ve. 

“I’m glad you ate well, my love.” He said diplomatically. “When I’m in treatment, I want you to you sleep and eat well every day, ok? And I want you to tell me if you need anything at all. ” 

“Baby, I’ll be ok.” You smiled, delicately keeping your composure. “It’s only for a short time, right? You need to focus on getting better, not on my needs. Besides, Jung Kook is there, just in case. I won’t be alone.” 

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded, trying to keep his protectiveness and jealousy under control. “But listen, honey, I mean it. If you need or want anything, you can come to me, ok? I want you to come to me.” 

“Ok.” You nodded. 

Jimin gazed up at you for a moment longer, unsure if you really meant it, because knowing you, you’ll do things yourself or ask someone else before him, just to make sure he focuses on himself. You knew that giving you things was Jimin’s way of feeling adequate. A manicure, a new bag or dress, a nice meal at a nice place, a beautiful vacation, amazing sex. Jimin felt needed and secure as a man when he gave you these things. But what Jimin didn’t realize, was that you needed something that was somehow both more, and so simple. You only needed him to be ok, and to prove that he can be a stable partner for you.   

After a few moments of committing your features to memory, etching them into his mind, Jimin wrapped a hand around each of your ankles, and began kissing up your exposed legs, distracting you from your thoughts. Softly, slowly moving up your skin with his plush pink lips, making you giggle in surprise.

“Jimin!” You laughed sweetly. 

“Let me make you feel good, honey.” He said, his voice deepening as he moves up your legs, lifting your dress. “Gonna use my tongue just how you like it.” 

He continued to pull your dress up as he moved, keeping himself on his knees, nibbling and kissing your thighs until he reached your lace panties. He kissed you over the fabric, teasing you with just enough pressure and tongue to make you whimper in anticipation.

“Jimin, please…” You begged, running your fingers through his blonde locks. 

“Angel, this sweet little pussy’s so wet for me already.” He murmured, moving your lace to the side with one finger. “Such a needy girl, so easy to get your pretty pussy excited.” 

He gave you wet, soft kisses along your opening, nibbling delicately on the skin, making your throw your head back and pick up your breathing. Then, his tongue, pressing quick kitten licks at your clit, which had already peeked out to seek attention. 

“J-Jimin…” You whined, gripping his hair as he continued to alternate between speed and pressure, licking and sucking, burying himself between your thighs. He slid a finger, then two, moving them in and out, and curling them to caress your sensitive spot. “Baby… Baby… Please… Baby…” 

You had no idea what exactly you were begging him for, with your mind emptying alongside each movement. You knew it was a distraction; a moment of pleasure in a sea of pain that you’ve tasted many times before. But for now, you’d let his familiar touch melt your worries away once again. A few more moments of careful attention had your toes curling and your hands pulling his hair as you came with a cry. .

You let him move you up further onto the bed, so that he could undo his pants and drop them to his knees, to let his hard, sensitive length spring out. He slid fully into you with a possessive growl, and began to fuck you hard, making the hotel bed, and yourself, squeak just as you did the first night you stayed here. 

Each movement was a strong cocktail of loving passion, pleasureful distraction, and begging apology, mixed with a lingering sense of his sense of possession. Jimin locked his lips to your neck, and engraved you with shallow marks as he whispered in your ear, “My pretty girl… Fuck, my sweet angel… My girl, taking my cock so well… F-Fuck…. All mine… ” 

It was a clear reminder, whispered to you through your whines as you let pleasure consume you once more, feeling his thumb massage your clit; Parks got what they wanted, and Jimin intended on keeping it that way. His mistakes could always be fixed with the swipe of a card, some sweet words, or a good, loving touch between your thighs. But as his thrusts became more sloppy and shallow, so too did his promises, when he pulled out and spilled onto you, ignoring his vow to finish inside and be closer to you. 

It was a moment of realization, as you lay there looking at his beautiful face, that no matter how seemingly hard he would try, he would always be Jimin. Flaws and all. The way he showed love, the increasingly obvious emptiness of his commitments, the circles he takes your heart in. He will always be that version of himself, because it is the only version of himself.

As he kissed your neck and whispered “I love you”, you wondered, for the first time, if those words, and that love, would ever truly be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————  

You went with Jimin to the rehabilitation center, and after a teary goodbye, you had the driver take you to Jung Kook’s apartment. He was waiting for you in the living room, only able to imagine the emotional day you had. He had rehearsed over and over again what to say, to give you the comfort and love he knew that you needed. But when you walked in with tears, his mind blanked, and the only thing he could think to ask was, “What do you need?” 

“I… I don’t know.” You said softly, unsure of so many things. 

Jung Kook looked at you with sad brown eyes, walked towards you, and replied, “I think what you need, is a hug. C’mere.” 

As he wrapped his arms around you, he realized he couldn’t have offered anything better. You clung to him like a float in a crashing ocean, desperate for a moment of calm. He wanted to provide that for you, so he held you close, hoping it could somehow meld the leftover pieces back together. Or, at the very least, remind you that you never had to pick them back up alone. 

He hoped you understood that later that night, when he heard you speaking to your father on a video call in the guest room. Jung Kook wanted to give you privacy, but when he heard the angry tone of your father, he couldn’t help but overhear through the thin wall between the bedrooms. 

“So Jimin is in treatment right now?” 

“Yes, Appa.” You responded, nervously picking at your nails. “I think he’ll be better afterwards. He just needs some time.” 

“Y/N,” Your father sighed. “I don’t like that you’re dealing with this again. How many more times are you going to have to go through this with him?” 

“He’s really trying.” You said sadly. “He’s not a bad person.” 

“I know he’s not a bad person, sweetie.” You father said, trying to reason with you. “But I think he may be ‘bad’ for you. I don’t know, I’m just worried about you. Are you by yourself now, in a new city?” 

“No, Appa. I’m staying with Jung Kook.” You said. “He works with Mr. Kim, and I used to go to university with him. He’s been very sweet to me, you would like him if you met him.” 

Jung Kook couldn’t help but smile at your words, but still held on to what your father said. Jimin’s not a bad person, but he’s bad for you. Your own father having doubts about your engagement was not something he expected to hear, but he shouldn’t say he was all that surprised. You deserved more. 

When he heard you say your goodbyes, his thoughts were interrupted, and he began to scroll through his phone as he laid on his bed, pretending as though he hadn’t heard your conversation. 

“Hi.” You said after a few moments, with a knock on his bedroom door. “I think I’m going to bed.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired. It’s been a hard day.” Jung Kook responded, watching you turn around. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning around towards him once more. 

“I’m off tomorrow.” He smiled. “Let me show you some cool places in the city.” 

“Jung Kook, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to.” He replied. “Please? I think I… um, it can make you feel better.” 

You smiled at his sentiment, ignoring the charming slip of his words. 

“Ok.” You agreed, giving in to the brown, puppy eyes of the man who looked so soft in his bed. “It’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled. "I think so, too."

“Goodnight.” You waved, turning away from him. 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened, watching your hand wave him good night. Something was different, missing, that was clearly there before your conversation with your father. It made his heart drop to his stomach, and his mind buzz for the rest of the night.

Your engagement ring was gone. 

[ludicdoll]

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

farleigh start ☆

pairing: farleigh start x fem!reader

contents: american reader, smoking, soft farleigh, very slight angst, fluff

synopsis: you and farleigh smoke under the sunset, reminiscing on your exciting summer.

a/n: go listen to weak for your love by thee sacred souls nowww

you sigh against the warm breeze, staring up into the golden sky. your summer was coming to an end, which means you would have to leave saltburn, which means you would have to go back home to america. you thought you wouldn’t care when summer ended, in fact you were excited to go back home—but now everything’s changed. your summer started out with felix inviting you after the graduation party. he said “everyone will miss you if you leave so early.” he was definitely just trying to make you feel better, but you caved in on his offer anyway. on the first day you arrived at the estate, elspeth almost immediately claimed you as one of her own children.

she was a very sincere woman, her blonde hair was always pinned up to frame her classic face, and her clothes always reflected her wealth. you were so intimidated by the catton’s at first, but as you got to know them better, you realized they’re quite normal. sure—the family heirloom art pieces on the walls and their 200 acres of land weren’t normal, but on the surface of their personalities, they were just average people who happened to be blessed with money. during your stay at the mansion, you found yourself talking to farleigh more often. at oxford you and farleigh never talked much, only sharing occasional glances from across lecture halls. you shared the same friend group with him due to felix and got along surprisingly well.

you both had witty personalities, a stubborn flare, and incredible fashion tastes. you recall your first real conversation with farleigh. it was on your first night at saltburn during dinner. you were seated next to him and gossiped the whole time about annabel and felix’s situationship. you laughed and smiled at his words and he seemed to be feeling just as amused as you were. now and then you would have your petty, harmless arguments, but nothing too extreme. in the midst of all of the catton’s chaos, you and farleigh found peace in each other. slowly, he even opened up a little to you. he talked about his mom, claiming that he was scared that if he left england, he would never get an ounce of money again. you pitied him truthfully. however, he was also incredibly smart, he just never bothered to show it.

farleigh also loved literature, he would roll his eyes at you whenever you’d call him a nerd but he enjoyed classics, drama, mysteries, romance, almost everything and anything. you would think that him living a chaotic, party filled lifestyle meant that he never had any time to pick up on any other hobbies or interests, but he did. he learned french and was surprisingly good at it, he didn’t speak it fluently—but he knew enough to hold up a conversation with someone random.

you sit in your window nook, closing your book and placing down on the cushion, staring out of the cracked window as you ash your cigarette out of the open panes. it’s mid september, the weather was slightly cool, but the humidity from the light rain earlier had made it slightly warmer. you raise your fingers to you mouth, dragging out the smoke from your cigarette. you lean your head back against the wall, closing your eyes as you breathe in the air around you. suddenly, you’re awoken by a knock on your door. “come in!” you call out as a head of curls poke through the door. farleigh smiles before closing the door behind him and walking over to you. he’s wearing a dark navy ralph lauren cable knit sweater (very fitting for him) and black trousers. he looked like he just got back home from something. “having your main character moment, i see?” he teases as he sits down across from you in the nook. you roll your eyes, softly shaking your head with a laugh. he grins, looking down at the book in your lap.

farleigh reaches over, grabbing it before reading the title outloud. “one hundred years of solitude,” he repeats. “how are you just now reading this?” you snatch the book out of his hand before placing it back down next to you. “oh, i’m sorry i’m not a nerd like you.” you reply mockingly. farleigh gives you a deadpan expression before cocking his head to the side, staring at you with low eyes. he readjusts himself in the cushion, scooting closer to the where his legs were touching yours. “venetia won’t be able to shut up when you leave.” he mutters. you turn, smiling weakly. you’ll miss her too, you’ll miss everyone when you’re gone. the two of you sit in silence for a minute, soaking in the beautiful shift in colors within the sky. you pull a cigarette out of its box next to you, offering it to him. he stares at you, almost like he was hesitating to take it or not. of course, he couldn’t decline so he swiftly took it out of your fingers.

you grab your lighter and ignite the flame by his lips. he immediately groans quietly, a wave of relief glowing across his face. “where were you all day?” you ask. “you just disappeared during brunch.” farleigh blows a thin line of smoke out of his mouth, shrugging. “the pub.” he looks over your empty room, biting down on his bottom lip. you used to have so many posters and polaroids littered across your walls, but you had already packed all of your stuff—leaving the room blank. “god, it’s so boring in here now.” he says. his breath suddenly hitches when he sees your suitcase in the corner of the room, packed and ready for your leave. you notice this and reach over to touch his shoulder.

in an attempt to lighten the mood, you rub at his arm. “aw, you gonna miss me, far?” you ask with an exaggerated sad face. farleigh scoffs, chuckling softly at your expression. “mmm, don’t get ahead of yourself.” you giggle, turning your head to look at the sky above you. you had made so many memories here, so many friends you wouldn’t be able to replace back in the states. a part of you wished you could stay in england, but another part of you missed your home. “do you remember the first time we met?” farleigh breaks the silence suddenly. you glance over at him, raising a brow. “it was at felix’s acceptance party. you showed up wearing a bold silver sequin skirt, very bold.” you cringe as you recall your odd fashion choices in your first year at oxford.

“oh god, don’t remind me.” you cry out as you pinch your nose bridge with a defeated sigh. farleigh laughs, exhaling the smoke out of the window. “truly … it was definitely the talk of the night.” he adds on to make you wince further. you raise a hand, waving it in front of him, hoping he’d stop talking. “but—i liked your outfit that night. i thought that you had to be interesting if you were wearing that.”

“really?” you ask. he nods, a smirk dancing on his lips. you sit up, leaning closer to him. you stare up at farleigh through your lashes, cocking your head to the side. “and was i interesting?”

farleigh seems to get a rise out of this sudden confidence from you. he leans down closer as well, just inches away from your face. “mhm,” he hums as he raises his cigarette back up to his mouth. you can’t help but stare at his pink lips as he takes a long drag. the two of you exchange quiet glances, a thick tension rising in the air. “whatever shall i do without you?” he teases as he leans back on his palm. “well, i’m not leaving until tomorrow morning.” you glance over at the grand clock in the corner of the room before turning back to meet farleigh’s gaze. “—we still have a couple more hours together.”

“yea? it’s not enough.” he muttered the last part quietly, but loud enough for you to dicipher. farleigh looked so soft under the sunset, the rays of pink light illuminating his face perfectly. your stomach suddenly flips, a wave of heat spreading to your face. he looked almost angelic in a way. you never thought about your right dynamic with farleigh. others around you would often say you and farleigh were close, maybe a little too close. you liked sitting in his lap and he liked holding you, not like it was im a sexual manner, you just genuinely enjoyed his touch. it was purely platonic to you from the start. but as you spent more time with him, you realized his demeanor would get you a nervous mess at times.

you thought you didn’t like farleigh, but the fuzzy feeling that would overtake you would make you squirm under his stare. it made you feel like you were twelve again with your first crush. “maybe we could just spend the next few hours talking.” farleigh says. you blink, examining in his soft features. the longer you stared, the more you’d notice certain aspects of him face you never acknowledged before—like how he had very faint fading freckles in the summer, or that one curl that would fall on his forehead perfectly. you nod in response to his suggestion before leaning back to your original position. for the next two hours, you and farleigh just sit there, rambling on about everything you could think of. your conversation ranged from shit talking to philosophy, then to the planets orbiting around us. you talked so long to the point where the sun started to set, slowly dipping below the horizon with a burst of pinks and oranges. you grab at his arm, gasping quietly as you gaze up at the sky. “look!” you point out. he raises a brow, glancing back and forth between you and the sunset. “what?”

“the sky!” you say in an obvious tone. “happens everyday, nothing new.” he says nonchalantly as he releases himself from your grip, resting his head against the window. you groan, smacking his arm with the back of your hand. “okay, well it’s my last sunset in england.” you turn your body fully so it’s facing the window, legs crossed underneath you as you put out your cigarette. you feel the cushions slowly sink when farleigh scoots closer. he places his head on your shoulder, sighing quietly. “m’gonna miss you.” his voice is low, rough but smooth at the same time. you tilt your head to look at him, giggling at his sudden honesty. “i’m serious,” farleigh picks his head back up from your shoulder, tracing his thumb along your jaw.

his eyes flicker back and forth from your eyes to your lips, his face show a look of contemplation. for a moment, you wish he would come back to america with you. the thought of him living with you didn’t bother you. in fact, it sounded perfect. he was a genuine person—and yes, he was a bitch but he was truthful and sweet when he wanted to be. “i wish i could stay longer.” you whisper. farleigh trails his thumb up to your bottom lip, tilting closer to you. “you could,” he says. you laugh awkwardly, “i’m sure the catton’s are sick of me though.”

“i’m not.”

you stare up at him, his dark eyes boring into yours. he looks so vulnerable right now, so calm and content. it was a rare occurrence if you saw farleigh not gushing out insults left and right. his voice made you shiver, goosebumps lining your skin with each syllable that left his pretty mouth. “i—i don’t want you to go.” farleigh stutters out with a soft sigh in a way that sounded like it was ashamed of admitting it. before you could respond, his lips crash onto yours. his pace is frantic at first then it softens, kisses delicate and slow. farleigh’s hand on your jaw trails around to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, pulling him close to your body. you could feel his warmth radiating off of yours, it was so sudden. you never expected to be making out with the farleigh start. there’s so many things running through your mind, but they all vanish into clouds as you melt against his soft lips. your stomach flutters rapidly, a slight buzz rising to your head. he grins into the kiss, a shitfaced grin at that. farleigh slips his tongue in your mouth, the subtle taste of liquor on him.

“far—” you whimper through labored breathing. he slows, pulling away from the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours. his hand falters from the back of your head to your neck. “fuck, you don’t understand what you do to me.” you crane up, looking at him with doe eyes. “please stay. just for a little while.” he begs, brows furrowed with worry as he laces his fingers into yours. you swallow, glancing over at the packed suitcase on the floor. you peer back up at farleigh, a small smile tugging on your lips. “please.” he repeats.

“okay,” you breathe out, “i’ll stay for a little longer.”

© please do not publish my work on other sites.

[codeinecraz]

JACOB ELORDI- New Year

summary- you and Jacob are celebrating the new year at the club when you get jealous of all the female attention he is getting.

Warning- use of alcohol, cursing, mentions of sex, use of y/n

December 31- 10:49 pm

y/n bent over the cool marble of the table, placing her elbows down on each side of her. She stared at the nearly empty cup of alcohol infront of her. For the past hour, she has been wondering around, filling her cup with every alcoholic beverage she could find. Her and her friends had come to a club that most celebrities attended at to celebrate the new year.

She also had to keep watch of how intoxicated she really got, because too much to drink could lead to one wrong move from her, which could ruin her entire career as an actress. Almost happened one too many times. Plus, she didn’t want to make a fool out of herself. So she continued to stare at the cup infront of her and play with her rings

It wasn’t necessarily boring, but she had been ticked off about something the whole time she’s been here. Her first few minutes at the club, she had spotted Jacob, one of her close friends. Then she looked at all of the woman around him. The worst part was watching him entertain them, buy them drinks, dance with them, or flirtatiously touch the strap of their dress.

Whatever he was doing, it irked her to her core. Her and Jacob weren’t dating, but they were those type of friends that had everyone questioning what went on between them in private. The upsetting part was, not much happened. They met, became close quick, both would flirt and talk for hours on end, and she fell in love. That’s about it. Who knew how he felt about her, he was difficult. There were countless time’s where Jacob would lay with her, or hold her, or hug her, but the kiss that she expected never came.

What she didn’t know was that Jacob felt the same way about her, maybe even more than she did. That night, he was doing everything in his power to get his attention from the second he saw her walk in. He didn’t want to go to her, he wanted her to come to him, to prove to him that she feels the same way about him, but she never came. He watched as she moved around with her friends, and laughed at whatever some guy was telling her, and poured relentless cups of alcohol.

He could have five woman infront of him, flirting and touching or whatever they were doing, but she was the only thing he could focus on. He loved the way her warm brown hair complemented her warm, toned skin. He loved the way her dress fell perfectly over her curves. He loved the way she smiled, even if it was fake. It was never fake around him, he knew that much.

Both were too scared to admit it to one another, so they waited for the other. She hadn’t moved from her spot, zoning out as her friends continued their conversation. When she looked back at the spot Jacob was just at, he was gone. Assuming he had snuck off with some broad he found, she picked up the glass in front of her and finished the last swig almost immediately. She slammed the glass down and ran her fingers through her hair.

Suddenly, she felt a light tap on her ass and spun around quickly, confused but not surprised that some random man would have the nerve to do that. Though, when she turned she was met with no other than the Jacob Elordi looking down at her, a half-drunken smile plastered on his face. He grabbed her hips and pulled her against his body. She pulled away and smiled, taking a minute to observe him. He was wearing a white Ralph Lauren polo, with the first couple of buttons undone, a pair of dress pants, and a random cowboy hat he must have found earlier. His hair was wet with sweat, same with his chest.

It was an attractive sweat, If that makes sense. She thought it made him look hot.. or just hotter than usual. She was brought back to her senses when he tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear and lowered his face into the crook of her neck.

“where’ve you been?” He mumbled against her. She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. “around, you just get here?” She asked. Obviously she knew the answer to that but she wasn’t sure what else to say. You know when you’re mad at someone but you can’t even tell them why without embarrassing yourself? That’s how she felt. He ignored her question and looked up at her, “are you ignoring me?” he blurts. She furrows her eyebrows. She wasn’t ignoring him, he just wasn’t acknowledging her. “no.. why would you think that?” She laughs.

He half smiles and holds the side of her face in his palm. “I don’t know, just felt like it. Forget I asked.” He said as he lifted her up onto the counter. “Bored?” He tilted his head. She shook her head yes and giggled. He continued a conversation for a few minutes while he stood between her legs, covering underneath her dress while she pressed her dangling legs on either side of him.

While he talked, she stared into his eyes, thinking about what it would be like if they were together. She kept giggling and swaying as he talked, the alcohol really getting to her now. At some point, they had both gotten up to dance. The song “Sex on the Beach” by PARTYNEXTDOOR blaring through the speakers.

He stood behind her and held her against him as they danced and watched as people joked around on the poles. He grinded on her as she pushed against him, one hand against her back and the other holding his drink. She moved away and leaned against the wall, laughing as he started swaying around the pole. He laughed loudly and then closed his lips in to a puckered form as he continued around the pole. She laughed harder, holding her stomache and slowly sliding down the wall. He laughed and moved away from the pole, holding his hand out towards her.

She gladly took it, not even caring to look at all the girls around her staring her down with jealous looks. He pulled her to him so they were chest to chest. He pressed his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I was waiting for you.” He spoke. “hmm?” You mumbled. “Before. I was waiting for u to come over but you didn’t.” He was hardly drunk, but she thought he was so he wasn’t worried about saying anything embarrassing, as she was drunk too.

“You seemed busy.” She almost scoffed. He stayed silent but made a confused face. “which one you gonna pick?” She motioned her head towards the woman around him, watching as they purposely bump into him and apologize just so they could get his attention, which failed every time. When he realized what she meant he laughed and shook his head. “There’s only one girl, you know that.” He yelled over the loud music, still holding his head against hers.

She giggled and took his glass out of his hand, taking a large sip. “yeah but..” she paused, taking another sip “do you really want her, or are you just drunk?” She asked while she held her other hand against the back of his neck. Their hips swayed in sync as they moved against the beat, the speakers now blasting the song “never be like you” by Flume.

He breathed deeply and smiled “I’ll always want her, drunk or not drunk.” She believed him, she’d believe anything he’d say, but she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. She laughed and pushed off his chest. “Yeah whatever” she giggled as she walked away from him. He made a fake ‘offended’ face before laughing and following quick behind her. She sat on the short pedestal that the pole came out of. He stood infront of her and she held his hands, playing with his wrings. “Come here” he rolled his eyes after she ignored him trying to pull her up. She pushed her arms higher up in a way to say “get me up”

He lifted her up by the arms, picking her up. her legs wrapped around his body. He used one hand to stop her dress from riding up and the other hand rubbed up and down her back. Their heads were so close that their noses were pushing against each other. Still, she giggled and rotated her head slightly, making their lips come even closer. He pushed his lips against hers, gripping the side of her body. Her hands flew to his hair and lightly tugged. She smiled into the kiss, as he did the same. He pulled away, pulling her bottom lip in his teeth before releasing it and pressing his forehead back against hers.

both stood there, staring into each others eyes and giggling, not paying attention to anyone around them. She hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, or only happened because he was drunk. She hoped it was forever.

[writememysticfalls]

Monster | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: When your boyfriend Elijah finds you in bed with his brother Klaus, he turns into a monster.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Hot, angsty, No humanity!Elijah

Word Count: <1k

You didn't mean to sleep with Klaus. Again.

You’d think being pregnant with his monster spawn would have taught you a lesson. Also, you were dating his brother, Elijah.

But last night, you were crying for no reason, and Klaus kissed your tears away, doing that dangerous thing where he pretended to care about you. And then, it happened.

In the morning, your naked bodies were still tangled on top of the sheets, when Elijah walked in.

“Now,” he was saying, “I think I have developed the perfect cracker recipe for your sickness-”

He stopped speaking. His eyes dropped to the floor. “My apologies,” he said. “I appear to have interrupted something.”

Elijah turned and left the room. You threw on your T-shirt and jeans, ignoring Klaus, and followed Elijah into the hallway.

“Wait. I can explain,” you called.

Elijah was hurrying down the stairs. He calmly said, “You need not explain yourself,” but the wood of the banister was pulverising under his hands. Small chunks of mahogany rained down.

You groaned, moving your pregnant body down the stairs. “Wait!” you said. “Don't make me run.”

He froze at the bottom of the stairs. The slight rise and fall of his shoulders was the only sign of his distress.

You went round to face him, and pressed your hands to the sides of his stony face. “Elijah. It was one stupid night. It meant nothing. I swear.”

His whole body began to shake. “Please do not touch me,” he said.

“Look at me,” you said, gazing deep into his shining brown eyes. “You know I love you.”

“Klaus has murdered every woman I have ever dared to love. This hurts more than that,” Elijah said. “Because I expect betrayal from Niklaus, but I was foolish enough to trust you.”

Elijah moved so fast it was a blur, and pinned your neck against the wall. He was gritting his teeth, his face twisted in anger. Your mouth yawned for air. You saw white spots explode in the air.

Just as quickly, Elijah let go, staring at his own hands with wide eyes.

“Did I just…” he said, as if in a dream.

“I don't care, Elijah-” you tried to say, but Elijah was miles away.

“I swore to protect you, but I lost control, and I broke my word,” he said.

He staggered back, hitting the wall behind him. His eyes were filling with tears. “I broke my word.”

Klaus was standing above them on the stairs. “Dry those tears, brother,” he said. “That halo was bound to fade sooner or later.”

And then, Elijah did the strangest thing. He closed his eyes, like he was slipping into a warm bath. When he opened them, they were bright.

“Elijah?” you said. “Are you okay?”

Elijah’s mouth opened in a bemused smile. He brushed down his jacket, which was covered with sawdust. “Oh my,” he said to himself. “That was Ralph Lauren, too.”

“You're scaring me,” you said quietly. “Don't you have anything to say about - what happened?”

Elijah grinned up at Klaus. “Evidently, you two had sexual intercourse last night. It is hardly surprising. That is how we got in this situation in the first place.”

“But… I cheated on you,” you said.

“I understand,” Elijah said, flipping out a small mirror and fixing his hair. “You're a hormonal werewolf, and Niklaus is, well,” with a flourish of one hand, “Niklaus.”

you grabbed him by the shoulders. “What is this? Some kind of breakdown?”

Klaus laughed, walking down the stairs. “And we thought it couldn't be done. Elijah has turned off his humanity. He has shut off every ounce of pain and anger. Y/n, you are the first person in a thousand years to hurt him enough to enable this!”

Klaus clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Big brother, how do you feel about the fact that everyone in the Quarter is trying to kill Y/n and our unborn child?”

Elijah raised his eyebrows in comic surprise. “That sounds like - how do the kids say it - “steaming hot tea”?”

---

A few days later, you and Klaus were standing in the doorway to the living room, watching.

Elijah was naked, except for a bath towel tied casually over his hips. He was reading ‘50 Shades of Gray’. Two women were sprawled over the floor, their necks bleeding.

You found it hard to move your eyes from the sculpted planes of his chest, and the dark hair peeking out from under his arms. However, as thrilling as it was to see Elijah naked, this was a very bad sign.

“Hey, Elijah,” you said slowly. “Whatcha up to there?”

“This stuff is marvellous,” he said, not looking up. “Why did I not read it before? I seem to be swimming in an ocean of free time.”

“And who are they?” you said, looking down.

Elijah looked up. “Meet Martha and Angelique. I was delighted to find that the old New Orleans brothels are still operating.”

“Elijah!” you said in shock.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Elijah said. “You are welcome to join us in our lovemaking. You see, Martha does this thing with her tongue-”

“Give us the details later, old boy,” Klaus said, sitting next to Elijah with a look of utter glee. “Now, about my plan to murder all those blasted Crescent werewolves in the Quarter…”

“No!” you said.

Elijah drummed his fingers on the table. “Well… they tend to hide in underground caves, but perhaps if you blocked up a tunnel, you could starve them out.”

“They’re my family,” you said. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Well,” Elijah said, “Niklaus is my family. He’s murdered those I love, burnt every bridge I've ever built, and quite literally stabbed me in the back. Family is overrated.”

--- THREE DAYS LATER ---

As you walked into the Cauldron, the witch hotspot of the Quarter, you were resolved in your purpose. There were only three emotions with the power to turn a vampire’s humanity back on: hatred, fear and love. If your plan worked, Elijah would feel all three. And if it failed… well, you weren't going to think about that.

“I'm the one you all want to kill, right?” you shouted to the witches. “Davina is gone. Elijah doesn't care. No one is protecting me.” You fell to your knees on the pavement, raising your head to the sun and closing your eyes. “Come and get me.”

Elijah was watching with curiosity, leaning on a wall on the side of the street.

Three witches ran towards you from the shadows.

You screamed, grabbing the sides of your head. The pain was unimaginable. Your skull felt like it was being crushed in a juice blender.

Elijah only smiled, raising one eyebrow in scientific curiosity. “What power these witches possess.”

In that moment, your bravery left you. You forgot all about your plan. You would have killed yourself, your baby, and every wolf in the Quarter to stop the pain. But it was too late.

All of a sudden, something flitted over the pavement, and all three witches dropped to the floor. It was Klaus. Panting, his eyes glowing yellow, he crouched in front of you. He let out a snarl.

You gasped gratefully for breath.

“Big brother,” Klaus said, “as much as I love playing the hero, I would appreciate your help right now.”

Already, more witches were gathering. Their eyes were milky white, their chants growing faster.

Elijah’s cheerful voice turned bitter. “Who am I to get in between you and Y/n? You know each other so well...”

Hatred, you thought. It was working; Elijah was feeling something.

You crumpled as a new pain stabbed you in the stomach. The baby.

Klaus leapt towards the witches, but they threw him onto the cobblestones.

Panting on the floor, Klaus shouted, “No, brother, I don't know Y/n. However, I do know her body. I plunged my fingers into the deepest parts of her. I made her howl.”

Elijah’s eyes turned blood red, and veins splintered over his face.

Klaus kept taunting Elijah, with gritted teeth because of the pain. “It was the same with your other women. Women are happy to let you buy them a ring, big brother. but they all come crawling to my bed moaning Niklaus! Give it to me harder!”

As he said those words, Elijah moved at inhuman speed and grabbed Klaus by the throat. That must have put Klaus out of the direct eyesight of the witches, because Klaus suddenly got to his feet and killed three witches in turn.

Now, the witches yelled spells at Elijah, trying to bring him down. Elijah’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open.

Fear, you thought. Elijah’s next crucial emotion.

However, Elijah’s fear didn't last long, because he managed to seize the heart out of every witch’s chest, killing them all.

Finally, the street fell quiet. Whichever witches remained were too scared to come out. Thanks to Elijah, the Mikaelsons had won.

You pushed yourself up onto your arms on the street, fighting the velvet darkness of unconsciousness.

“Elijah…” you said, in barely a whisper.

Instantly, Elijah was cradling your body, cupping your head with one hand and holding your hip with the other. There was still blood on his hands and face, but he didn't seem to notice.

“How is the baby?” he murmured.

You bit your lip. You were happy Elijah had shown he could feel love again - but he hadn't directed it at you, but at the baby.

“Fine, I think. The pain’s gone,” you said. Despite everything that had happened, it felt good to be in Elijah’s arms. “Is… the baby the only thing you're woried about?” you said slowly.

Elijah looked down. “Y/n, I… cannot. If I let in tenderness, then anger, and jealousy, and most of all, guilt, will flood in. I - failed you. I cannot let myself feel that fact. I will crumble.”

You said, “I failed you too, once. Twice actually.” You laughed hoarsely.

Elijah’s body stiffened. “Was my brother correct in his taunting? Is it some… primal instinct that draws you to him?”

“Hell, no,” you said. “That was bullshit. The reason why I went to Klaus is because…” You could not meet his eye. “I guess I have this thing where I don't believe I deserve to be happy. And, we're so happy, that a part of me was trying to ruin it. To push you away. I did a pretty good job of it, didn't I?”

To your shock, Elijah didn't push you away. Instead, he pulled you to his chest, fiercely. You let yourself fall against him entirely. It was the first time anything in the world had felt right in the last week.

“We have quite a talent for hurting each other, do we not?” he said, his voice almost breaking.

“I want you in my life,” you said. “Broken promises, warts and all. And I want to be in your life - if you'll have me.”

Elijah held you tighter. “I will want you always, Y/n. I will not give you my word, as evidently, it means little. Let me give you this instead.”

And he kissed you, as you slipped into sweet oblivion in his arms.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price takes Nikolai to a gig and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: sexual content towards the end.

Price stood on the outskirts in the standing area of Liverpool's Olympia stadium tracing back the decisions that had led him to this moment. He clutched half a pint of the worst lager he had ever tasted in one hand, his fingers bending the plastic inwards under a tense grip, while the other hand remained deep in the pocket of his jeans, turning his flat keys over and over.

Nik had thrown the flyer down on his desk about a month ago, and those big brown eyes had been turned onto their pleading setting immediately. Laswell likened them to the eyes of her barrel-shaped black Labrador; big, loyal, soft, irresistible. Price had asked her whether her wife knew there would soon be a third in their marriage and she'd thumped his arm hard enough to leave a mark. "Liverpool, this is where you live," Nik had said, stating rather than asking. "Can you help me book this?"

Nikolai could fix you a handgun in Liverpool no problem, replete with silencer and enough hollow point ammunition to create a very bad night for the Merseyside police force, but booking and attending a gig was apparently too much. Price had snagged up the flyer, squinted at the band name as if he had a chance in hell of recognising it, and then agreed.

Because why the fuck not? Brass were pressuring him to book some leave so they could tick the 'monitoring mental health and well being' box on his performance management, so it was as good excuse as any. You can kip on my sofa, he'd said, I can cook a better sarnie than the Premier Inn.

Nik's entire face had lit up. "Good! And you can come with me," a single beat of breath, "or I might get lost." There has been no time to argue the point because Garrick had knocked and entered, only to be scooped into a hug with a boomed, "Gaz, my brother, good to see you!" and the Russian-shaped whirlwind had disappeared.

So Price had done just that. He'd booked two tickets at the same time as his annual leave - three days should get them off his back - and put it out of his mind.

Not that there would have been much time to mull it over; they shipped out on a week long recon mission the following day, and the fallout that followed had taken up the rest of the time. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the train with Nik opposite, watching the British countryside sprint by in a blur of green and grey, drinking a beer and playing cards.

Being around Nik was easy. It wasn't just that he didn't take up energy to entertain, or require a certain mask from Price, it was more than that. Like he slotted into a part of Price's psyche built precisely for him, and Price felt happier when he was there. Laswell said it was like Nik removed the stick from Price's arse as part of his exfil service and Price had told Laswell to fuck off.

They had spent the afternoon mooching around Price's gaff. Not much to see really, but Nik had been fascinated by the dusty family photos on Price's wall and asked after every face; mother, father, sister, two nieces, a nephew, grandparents. He'd wanted to know about them all.

Then, with an hour and a half to go before Olympia's doors opened, they'd got changed for the evening. Price had thrown on the only shirt he owned that didn't come from the bargain bin of a Mountain Warehouse or the Army Surplus catalogue - a Ralph Lauren his sister has bought him one Christmas instead of the much preferred fishing-themed memorabilia - and stepped out to be confronted by Nik in a Slayer cut off tank that showed off the sides of his torso in a way that made Price feel hot under his designer collar.

"You look," Nik had said, studying Price carefully, head tilting to the side with a wry little smirk, "ill-prepared."

"And you look like Ozzy Osbourne took some steroids so I reckon it evens out." Nik had laughed at that and thumped Price's chest, and in the next moment they were sitting in the back of a taxi, Nik talking through the set list with the same excited gusto he did when pawing over a new bird in the hanger. Price was just glad he had remembered his Loop earplugs and couldn't help but smile along at Nik's excitement.

After drinking together through the support band and watching Nik grow gradually more and more restless, Price had sent him into the pit. He stood watching Nik from afar - "your shirt is too nice, captain, you stay here and finish your beer, I'll be back," - a man ten years his senior, orchestrate what the lead singer was calling a Wall of Death. More, more, further. Don't be a pussy! And then they sprinted at each other to the crescendo of a shredding guitar. Jesus fucking christ. Price lifted his lager to drink and then hesitated; he was pretty sure he'd felt something wet slosh over his face and shoulders, into his drink, and he couldn't be sure it wasn't piss, so he put his inordinately expensive and shit lager down on the nearby bar.

The last gig he had been to was at fifteen, a year before he joined the service. 3rd November 2000 at Wembley in London; the Smashing Pumpkins. He remembered it so clearly because of the hiding his father had given him for not only hitchhiking his way to London, but stumbling home off his head on cheap vodka the morning after. There hadn't been any Walls of Death at the time.

Nik stumbled out of the melee that had followed the wall's demise just as the song ended, and a line formed down the centre of Price's brow. A knot twisted in his belly, and a little further down, at the lumbering mess of a man that approached. His tank clung to the curves of his chest, darkened with sweat, his usually neat hair ruffled and erratic, the sheen on his arms and collar bones reflecting the strobe lights and drawing Price's eye. A shiver of something that felt far too fucking much like longing ran down his spine.

"You're bleeding," Price said dumbly, his throat tight. His gaze settled on the split in Nik's lip and the blossoming bruise on his cheekbone.

"Eh," Nik huffed, wiping a smear of blood on the back of his hand. "The other guy looks worse." There was that feral little grin. The same grin Nikolai wore in the field when shit had gone Pete Tong but they had still come up golden through sheer grit, dumb luck and the precise application of violent savagery. It set a fire in Price's chest, made something feral and untamed rouse from slumber, and suddenly there was an itch beneath his skin.

"Damn fuckin' right," Price replied, reflecting Nik's grin back at him. A breath passed between them, something unspoken and wild as their eyes met. And then there was a strong hand gripping his jaw, another on his hip, pushing him into the wall behind him. His back hit home, knocking the air from his lungs, and his fists bunched in the sweat-soaked material of Nik's shirt as Nik's lips pushed to his. The coppery taste of blood mixed with cheap beer and cigar smoke, and every sane thought fell out of Price's head, replaced instead by a maelstrom of chaos centered around the feel of Nik's tongue, the softness of his lips, the demand of his teeth and the rock hard bulge that ground into Price's hips.

Price was sure his moan would have been audible but for the thump and scream of the music. Nik kept that grip on his jaw as he damn near plundered Price's mouth for what he wanted, but the other hand left his hip to push against the wall, clenched in a fist near Price's head. When they pulled apart, Price sucked in a strangled gasp of air and Nik pushed his face into the scruff of Price's beard. "Ty prekrasen," Nik breathed, "ya tebya hochu."

Price had been practicing Russian. He still couldn't read it, but even if he hadn't understood the words or the low growl in Nik's voice, the hunger in Nik's kiss on his neck would have communicated his meaning just fine. "Bloody hell," Price arched against the hard line of Nik's body, fists shaking. "Yeah. Fuck. Wait..." He shoved Nik away, just a fraction, but held onto his shirt with the same desperation. Caught in the conflict between what he wanted and another part of him that had been wounded once before. "I'm not your three a.m. shag, Nik. We clear? I don't do that. If this is--if this is what this is, then no, look at me, you hear?"

Nik let out a burst of a chuckle, eyes soft as he met Price's gaze. "John, you are and always will be my everything." He was drunk enough to struggle around the 'J' in Price's name, defaulting the zsho- inflection, but his eyes were clear as he said it.

"Fuck," Price responded, eyes wide, and Nik kissed him again, slower this time. When he stopped, Price was shaking.

"And you?" Nik breathed into his lips.

"Not here, not... I can't hear myself fucking think."

"Then home." Nik pulled him from the wall and soon they were navigating the corridors crowded with drunks and staff into the night. The cool air bristled over Price's skin, but it did little to cool the heat in his body, barely able to keep his hands off of Nik when they fell into the back of the cab. Nik sat contentedly, the backs of his fingers stroking up and down Price's forearm as he watched the city speed by.

Price's hands shook as he shoved the key in the door of his flat, and he turned just in time to be crowded across the threshold by Nik's chest. The door slammed shut and they tumbled onto the beaten up old sofa padded out with a spare duvet and pillow. Nik tore into Price's clothes remorselessly, thirty-ish quids worth of buttons skittered under Price's coffee table as the shirt was k.i.a. It didn't matter, because the feeling of Nik devouring his chest, scrubbing his stubble into sweat, hair and cologne with a deep, guttural groan, was worth every shirt Price owned and then some.

They fumbled and wrestled out of their clothes in search of skin. Nik worked his way down Price's body, wrenching his jeans and boxers over his thighs to lick a long stripe up the hard line of his prick before swallowing it in one. A strangled noise broke from Price's chest as he buried a fist in Nik's hair; the responding moan that vibrated in Nik's throat sent pleasure licking up Price's spine like tongues of flame. Nik kept him teetering on the brink, pulling away with a soft pop to work his way back up Price's body and squirm out of the baggy cargo shorts far enough to free his own cock. He took them both in one big hand and rutted forward, grabbing at the arm of the sofa behind Price's head for purchase.

Slicked by their precum and Nik's saliva, Nik fucked them both into his palm with enough pace and force to make the old sofa creak. He leaned down to kiss the moans and whimpers from Price's mouth in between growled pants of want, slipping in and out of Russian, English and some of the other eight languages he knew, like his brain had short-circuited and was spinning out. Fuckin' hot, is what it was. One of Price's hands joined Nik's, if only to feel the silky iron of his prick against another part of him. He squeezed tighter as his pleasure crested, balls pulling tight, and spilled between them.

Nik practically fucking purred with delight, thrusting against Price's spent cock until he grunted in discomfort before pulling away. No fucking way Price was letting him keep the upper hand; he snagged Nik's shorts and used them to yank him up until Nik's cum-slick cock hung over his face. His palm gripping one plentiful arse cheek, he sucked Nik into the back of his mouth, encouraging him to thrust in with a firm squeeze and low growl.

If Price had thought Nik had been loud before, the act of fucking Price's face had unearthed a whole new vocal range. Nik moaned, growled and panted like an animal, fisting Price's hair as his balls settled against the bristles on Price's chin. Price's throat spasmed, his chest ached, his damn eyes watered, but fuck he wanted Nik buried in him forever. His fingernails bit into the flesh of his arse, his spent cock flicking with interest across his belly, as Nik staked his claim. It took only a handful of deep thrusts before Nik hit his peak, buried to the hilt and spilling down Price's throat with a euphoric shout.

His grip loosened in Price's hair and he withdrew slowly, cock still twitching as it drew over Price's tongue. He replaced his prick with his mouth, kissing the taste of himself on Price's swollen lips with a bone deep moan, before lapping at the tear tracks on Price's cheeks.

At some point, Nik must have moved them to the bed, because Price resurfaced from his haze with his face on a thick, furry chest and a strong arm around his shoulders, the bedsheets draped up to their waist. Nik traced vague circles on Price's bicep, half lidded eyes unfocused as they stared at the ceiling. "I meant it," Nik said, clearly sensing Price's return from his post-fuck delirium. "Everything I said."

Price swallowed hard. How did you respond to that? Nothing in his life so far had prepared him for Nik's devotion. "I know," he murmured. "I... Me too. For a long time."

Nik shifted, rolling Price onto his back so he could look down into his eyes. "Then we make it work."

"Nik... Our lives, we... Shit could go upside down real bloody quick."

A finger pressed over his lips. "I specialise in upside down, captain."

"You just put your prick in my throat and you're still going with captain."

Nik shrugged, lopsided grin slipping back into place. "It is hot. Maybe I will fuck you in your uniform next time, hm?"

"Presumptuous, Nik..."

"Maybe over your desk." Nik sank down to kiss Price's neck.

"Cleaning lady would have somethin' to say about that."

"She is not invited. I do not share." A nip against his throat, and Price arched into Nik's chest.

"Fuck, okay... Mate, you're rabid."

"Hm, only for you."

Fuck. Only for you. Price closed his eyes as Nik's hand slid beneath the blanket. Yeah, fine, they could make this work. They could have this. They deserved it, this one thing, and fuck did Price want it bad.

[not-ur-boy-toy]

Hartbreak Ranch Chapter 3

AN: More of a bigger chapter text wise, but deffo one with some more drops about Shawn! Also can't thank enough for the love I am receiving for this, taglist is always open <3 I hope you enjoy, and also BTW, It is now finally on AO3 as well whoop whoop!

TW: Like usual, foul language, drugs/alcohol mentioned as well as some hints at addiction, some sex mentioned (not written about, just hinted at), Shawn being Shawn, some slight angst if you could put it as that?

Word count: 5.6K

Tags: @fairiebabey

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Morning light seeped through the window and curtains, greeting Shawn with an annoyed groan. He tried to dig his face against the pillows his head laid on, trying to hide from the light that seemed to peel his eyes open. It was too early for him, he could easily tell from the sound of the roosters that lived on the farm that crowed at the sun peeking over the farm. A soft grunt left his lips as he rubbed his eyes, wiping the sleep from them before slowly and lazily opening them to look at the clock that tick-tick-ticked too loud for Shawn’s liking. It was six in the morning. A time Shawn only saw when he was out partying and finally coming home. He debated sleeping in some more, but he knew sleep wouldn’t find him at all, so with a reluctant huff and curses underneath his breath, he got out of his warm cocoon of his bed to start the day. 

It felt odd being up this early, especially feeling fresh for once. Any normal morning for Shawn was one where he’d debate having a hair of the dog to get him feeling straight, maybe even taking some happy pills to get the day going. Sometimes he would have a body next to him, one that was familiar to him, other times it was a colleague he found some small interest in. Most days he did find himself alone wherever his work had him stay. He wasn’t sure which one was worse and he didn’t really want to think about that at all. Diesel would have easily told him to ‘Enjoy your life, you only live once’ before placing a kiss on Shawn’s head and leaving the bed they shared for one night to go get coffee… It was a blurry line what Diesel was to Shawn. Was he his bodyguard? Therapist? Friends with benefits? Who knows.

A warm shower was what he needed to wake him up and refresh him for the day ahead, as well as perfecting his outfit for the day. His outfit of choice was somewhat a simple outfit yet still stylish, he chose a cream coloured turtleneck from Ralph Lauren that he was supposed to wear for one of his photoshoots, but it was the only shirt he had where it didn’t have long sleeves. He paired it with a pair of mocha coloured slacks from Prada and he once again wore his favorite pair of black heeled boots ... Sure it was simple in his eyes, but he did look like he was ready for a business meeting. His hair was pulled up into a half-up half-down and finally, he added a bit of makeup, some simple mascara as well as highlighter on his cheeks. He sprayed on some of his cologne, the bottles label was almost gone from how long he had the bottle. It was a gift from Marty when Shawn first began his modeling career. It was a cheap brand, much like his cigs, but it was special to him. 

The scent had faded over the years, from what Shawn could remember, it smelt strongly of spices, mostly cinnamon, it almost had a strong, chemical smell which he originally hated, but now? The cinnamon had disappeared, the spices had almost gone except for the light, sweet smell of vanilla. There wasn’t much left in the bottle, he could have easily thrown it away ages ago… But everytime he did so, he hesitated, he couldn’t let go of it. 

Finally, Shawn grabbed the last few things he needed; his dead phone, his packet of cigs (with his happy sticks inside) and his lighter. He placed them in his pocket before taking a deep breath in and leaving the silent room. Already, before he even reached the top of the staircase, the smell of freshly made pancakes drifted through the house, even upstairs. They smelt mouthwatering and even his stomach had to agree as it grumbled in agreement. He could hear the busy household buzzing around as well, the sound of pans clanking in the kitchen, some chatting and even laughing. Even this early the Harts were busy which didn’t surprise Shawn at all. His boots clicked against the wooden stairs as he slowly, almost anxiously made his way downstairs. Shawn wasn’t anxious. Never. He was self-assured. Laid-back even. Never anxious. 

Laughing and chatter grew louder as the young man made his way finally to the dining room, his blue, ocean eyes landing on the same table from the night before. Fresh daffodils in a vase sat in the center of the table, a few plates of food were laid on the table including the same pancakes he smelt upstairs, some sunny-side up eggs, a fruit basket full of fresh looking apples, oranges, bananas and grapes. Shawn’s stomach grumbled again at the delectable spread on the table. He wasn’t a breakfast person at all. A piece of fruit and some coffee would be enough for Shawn until lunch, but the breakfast that was laid out truly looked like a feast for a king. Something truly better than whatever a Michelin star restaurant could offer. Reaching out towards the fruit basket, Shawn went to grab one of the plump almost juicy looking apples before he was stopped by the familiar honeyed voice of Helen, jumping slightly in surprise.

“Ah-ah-ah! Breakfast isn’t done just yet, just you wait Mr!” She teased with a soft, gentle smile as she walked into the room, her heels tapping against the floor as she made her way over to the table with a plate of crispy bacon.

“Oh shit- Sorry, Mrs Hart” Shawn quickly apologized, moving his hand away from the tempting apple.

“And no swearing in this household, you may be the guest, but my house, my rules” 

“Sh- I mean- Sorry, again” Shawn apologized again, a blush of embarrassment coating his cheeks. When was the last time he had been scolded?

“No need to apologize, love, mistakes happen, It’s your first morning with us” Helen’s soft laugh ran through the dining room as she placed the plate in an empty spot of the table. “Here, come give me a hand in the kitchen if you can” she hummed out as she made her way back to where she appeared from. Shawn glanced at the delicious table in front of him before huffing softly, breakfast could wait for now.

Entering the kitchen, Shawn was greeted by the view of most of the Hart’s. Owen was filling up some jugs with some juices, one being apple juice, another was orange and he even filled one up with milk. Diana was reading a magazine, leaning against the counter next to her brother, showing him whatever was on it, and Stu was currently at the stove, flipping some extra pancakes for the feast in the other room. Shawn looked over at Helen, wondering what task he would be doing, he couldn’t exactly cook, he could make a good piece of toast on a good day, but pancakes like Stu was doing? He might as well just burn the kitchen down by looking at it!

“If you could wash up those few pots then that would be lovely” Helen spoke softly as she picked up the last plate of pancakes, heading back into the dining room. Shawn pulled a small face at the task. Him? Washing some plates? If it weren’t for the woman's sweet voice, he would have complained to hell and back, he was a model for God's sake! Not a servant!

“I wouldn’t hesitate to do it, Ma can be pretty cruel if you don’t help out” Owen chuckled out, throwing Shawn out of his thoughts.

“Yeah! She’ll make some gruel for breakfast… Davey really likes it though, it’s weird” Diana chirped in, tilting her head slightly as she continued to look at her magazine.

“That’s because Davey is weird” Owen mumbled out with a smirk, knowing how much it irked his sister.

As the two siblings argued over this ‘Davey’, Shawn went over to where the sink was. There wasn’t that much to clean at all, yet Shawn still dreaded it. He took a deep breath in before reaching for the sponge and reaching into the bowl of hot, soapy water. A shiver ran down his spine as he began to clean the items that had been left in there to soak, it wasn’t a pleasant thing at all. 

“I hope that room was good enough for you, Shawn”, Stu grunted out slightly before placing the pan and spatula he had been using for the pancakes by the side of the sink.

“It was cozy, thank you sir, I slept like a baby honestly” Shawn replied back, resisting the urge to gag as he felt something brush against his hand in the water. He was not gonna try and figure out what it was… 

A simple hum was the only reply Shawn got back from the man of very few words before Stu walked away after turning the stove off, heading out of the room. Shawn glanced over his shoulder, now realizing he was left alone in the room. He assumed everyone had done their ‘jobs’ for their breakfast while he still had to clean up. He huffed in annoyance, swearing under his breath as he looked back at the water. He could have easily stopped what he was doing and lied about finishing washing up… Yet, from Owen’s warning, he didn’t want to eat gruel. 

“Stupid morning chores…” He muttered under his breath, his brows scrunched together in frustration. He was starving. He threw down the spatula Stu had left on the side into the soapy water, some of it landing slightly on his clean, expensive shirt.

“Fuckin’ stupid ass sp-”

“Woah now, those dishes haven’t done anything to you”, A hypnotic, warm voice rang out as well as the sound of heavy boots as they walked into the kitchen. Shawn’s baby blues widened slightly, his cheeks flushing slightly in a second round of embarrassment as he looked over his shoulder to see Bret’s figure by him. 

“Shit! You scared me, I thought it was your mom… She’s already told me off for swearing”, Shawn chuckled out, “But they have done something to me, ruined my good shirt”. A soft huff left his lips as he tore his eyes away from Bret.

Bret raised a brow, his warm, chocolate eyes glancing on the simple looking shirt Shawn wore. He noticed the small wet patches from the water, but nothing looked ruined. As well as noticing the water on his shirt, the larger man did notice the still rather dirty dishes Shawn had tried to wash. 

“It’s probably because you’re rushing to wash up, it’s not ruined though, just give it some time to dry”, Bret replied back before continuing, “My mom is gonna get ya’ to wash up again with the state of those…” He pointed out, gesturing to the pots that still had some pancake batter stuck to them as well as other bits that clung to them. 

“It’s not that bad…” Shawn argued back with a pout. He didn’t see anything wrong with the dishes.

A brief chuckle left Bret’s lips as he stood by Shawn, he looked at the other like he was delusional, like he had to be joking about the pots.

“...Maybe they are pretty bad, but it’s not my fault!” Shawn squawked out, “It’s just… stubborn or something”

“Are the pots stubborn or are you being stubborn?” Bret teased, “Here, since you don’t know how to do it properly, let me show you”

Bret reached over to gently take the sponge off of Shawn, his fingers lightly grazed across Shawn’s soft skin sending a small shiver down the model’s spine. It was a light touch, something that was barely noticeable. Shawn shouldn’t have been blushing like he was over a small touch- Hell! He was a model, he had been touched and caressed for photoshoots, especially his Playgirl photoshoot… A small nudge from Bret shook Shawn out of his own thoughts as he moved out of the way, a small ‘sorry’ leaving his lips. 

“Luckily there’s not much to clean, but you’ve gotta take it slow and rough…” Bret’s deep voice hummed out as he began to show Shawn how to properly wash the dishes.

“Slow and rough? It’s a plate, not a bedmate” Shawn chuckled out as he leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes never leaving Bret’s hands. 

“It’s the best way to do it” Bret smirked slightly.

Soft laughter filled the room before a comfortable silence settled. To give Shawn a break, Bret finished the dishes, there was no point in leaving him to half-ass the job again, even with showing him how to do it. 

“Thanks again for saving my ass, gruel doesn’t sound very appetizing” Shawn thanked as he passed Bret a nearby kitchen towel to dry his hands with, their hands once again brushing against each other. A small, pleasant shiver ran down his spine again. He seriously couldn’t understand why a small touch would set him off so much.

“It’s… not pleasant, I don’t even wish that on my worst enemy to even have” Bret chuckled out as he wiped his hands on the kitchen towel, “Luckily, you won’t need to eat it, c’mon, Owen is a glutton for the pancakes, I won’t be surprised if he’s already eaten about five of them”.

Pancakes were definitely something Shawn didn’t want to miss out on, they smelt amazing! So, without any hesitation, the two made their way into the dining room. Owen was, just like what Bret said, eating a stack of pancakes that were covered in a few of the fruits, some bacon and some maple syrup. Diana was eating an apple while talking to Helen and Stu was drinking a glass of orange juice while reading a newspaper. Shawn sat down beside Owen while Bret sat across from them, sitting next to Diana.

“Mm! To’ ou lon’ nough!” Owen muffled out with a mouth full of food who was instantly shot a dirty look by his older brother.

“No talking with your mouthful Owen” Bret reprimanded as he began to fill his plate with food. Owen groaned slightly before swallowing the food he was eating,

“Sorry, sorry… Took you long enough,” Owen grinned, “I thought I was lucky enough to eat all of these”.

“Eatin’ all of the pancakes and getting a tummy ache, eh? Ma’ would have stopped you” Bret warned with a soft, lighthearted chuckle.

Breakfast went past as fast as the supper from the night before. Conversations ran freely which Shawn stayed mostly silent in, he preferred listening to the Hart’s instead. It was rather enjoyable to hear, and the food he ate? It was perfectly sweet even if he didn’t eat much of it. A simple pancake with some fruits and syrup lathered over the top (more than enough to make the pancake swim in it) was enough for Shawn, especially as a special treat. 

A soft, satisfied huff came from Owen as he finished his pile of pancakes. “That was great like usual ma and pa!” he declared as he stood up from his chair with a screech as it scraped across the floor, “Mm, I gotta head to work though, gotta take care of your little lady Shawn” he exclaimed happily, “You should seriously see it Pops, it’s a beaut!”.

“She is, it’s my pride and joy…” the model replied back before continuing, “Oh shi-Shoot, before I forget, Bret said you’d be able to charge my phone at the shop..?” He questioned as he reached into his pocket to grab his phone.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’ll be able to, should be fully charged by the time I'm back,” Owen grinned out as he took the phone from Shawn, placing it in his own pocket for safe keepings, “Your lil’ lady and your phone will be in good hands!” he called out as he left the room, heading off to get to the shop.

“So, what’s your plans for today Shawn?” Stu piped up as he began to carefully fold the newspaper he held in his hands and placed it down on the table. His cold eyes stared down Shawn in curiosity.

“My plans? Well… I’m not sure, I might have a look around your ranch, It’s quite a pretty sight” Shawn shrugged slightly. It wasn’t like he could get into town and back. He would have had to wait for Owen to finish his shift to be dropped back off.. It wasn’t really an appealing idea. 

“Bret could show you around if you give him a hand with a few chores,” Stu took a moment to have a quick sip of his orange juice before continuing, “You might be a guest, but you’ve gotta help out now n’ again”.

Shawn stayed quiet for a moment, fighting the urge to argue back. Him? doing chores? Around the ranch? Great. He had already done the dishes- Or well, Bret did. But he was a guest! Not a farmer! His clothes were definitely going to get ruined, perhaps even destroyed… Yet, he held his tongue and gave Stu a fake smile.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m happy to give a hand” He spoke through gritted teeth.

***

Walking out of the cozy home from the backdoor, Shawn was greeted by the already hot morning air. It was almost 7:30AM and it already felt like it was about 70°F already. Sure, he was originally from Texas and he was used to the blistering heat… But it being this warm already in the morning without a draft of wind? It was gonna be a long, uncomfortable day.

“We’ve gotta feed the animals first, the barn is this way” Bret’s deep voice rang out as he started to walk away from the house, heading down the dusty path towards the old, rickety looking barn in the distance. It was exactly as what Shawn thought a Ranch would look like, one that he would draw in the classic poppy red crayon and white for the accents. Although this building had seen better days from the white beams that held the wooden place up had easily been dirtied up from the weather, changing it to more of an eggshell color… Which was a huge difference that Shawn had learned from the people who made outfits for his photoshoots. 

Following after the taller man, Shawn had plenty of time to now admire what the other wore. The same black cowboy hat sat upon his soft looking curls on his head, his shirt was now a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up once again, hugging onto his thicker forearms. He wore a dark blue pair of jeans which once again shaped him oh so nicely. Shawn’s blue eyes locked onto the backside of Bret, admiring the man’s… ‘Ass-ests’. He couldn’t help but to enjoy the sight, he did truly love a good ass and a good pair of tits- which Bret had both of as far as he could see. The last time he saw that was with Sherri… Which was something that only stayed as professional sadly. At least they still stayed in touch, especially as his manager. 

“...-So those are the jobs we have to do, leave the heavy lifting to me” Bret’s voice continued as Shawn’s attention was brought back as he stumbled to a stop once he realized last second that Bret had stopped walking, he had almost walked into the man's back from being distracted. His baby blue eyes quickly glanced up at Bret, noticing those warm chocolate eyes staring back at him in confusion. 

“Everything alright?” His deep voice questioned as he opened up the doors of the barn.

“Huh? Oh- Yeah! Yeah, all is goood.. Just… Tired?...” Shawn lied trying to hide the fact he was ogling the man, he even tried a fake yawn and a stretch to try and ease the others confusion.

“See, just tired!” He quickly repeated to hide the unsureness of his reply.

A raise of a brow was the only reply Shawn got from a reply from Bret as they entered the rustic looking barn. From what Shawn had seen from barns (which were just ones from TV shows and movies), the place wasn’t as… well, intricate as what he thought it would be. The place wasn’t neat and shiny clean, nor were there any small cute fairy lights that hung between each stall. Hay coated the floor of the place as a few chickens strutted around, soft ‘clucks’ leaving them as they picked at the small pieces off the ground. A few horse’s heads poked out from the stalls, all being different colourings, yet none like the angelic white horse he had rode for the photoshoot. One of the few horses did catch his attention though, from its head, it had a dark, pitch black mane, its coat was a chestnut brown with some white spotting, the largest spot covering it left it’s eye… But it was its eyes that caught his attention the most. Those eyes were almost white. It was oddly beautiful- yet scary. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, those are some eyes…” he mumbled out underneath his breath as he walked towards the horse, the animal letting out a small whinny as he approached.

“Cielo? She does, only one on the ranch with those kind of eyes… Must admit, she scares a few kids every so often” A soft laugh left Bret as he watched Shawn pet the mare almost cautiously.

“I’d see why, it’s unusual”

“Unusual but adds to her personality… She’s my gal, she’s real friendly”

Shawn grinned slightly as Cielo nuzzled her nose against his hand making him chuckle, as well as hearing Bret call the horse ‘his gal’. It was somewhat ironic since he called his own car ‘his lady’, but Bret just didn’t look like the type to call anything like that. He gave the mare one last pet as he continued to follow after Bret, going past seven other horses that were either poking their head out of the stall or minding their own business. Finally, the two made it to the back of the barn after the little distraction, and if Shawn thought the front of it was messy? The back was worse… Obviously in his own eyes. The back had piles of different hay bales that towered over them on both sides as well as loose hay that stacked into smaller mounds, as well as a few different bins of different colors stood nearby. The wall in front of them held a tool board full of different items like a shovel, a few different screwdrivers, a few hammers and a drill. There were a few things Shawn had no idea about, but a few of the things just looked like they were straight out of a horror film… That or he was being dramatic. He wasn’t gonna ask Bret though, that would either leave the man actually killing him, if he was a murderer, or just straight up laughing at him. Both were as bad as each other.

“So, are we using this hay for the horses?” Shawn questioned as he looked at the piles while trying to hide the grimace on his face.

“It’s barley, not hay, but that is the plan as well as a few other things as well, I did tell you before” Bret hummed out, “Unless, your tiredness stopped you from listening?”

“Ha! Noo… I was listening, just.. Dunno’ the difference between hay and barley” he quickly defended as he crossed his arms.

“Mm-hm, sure…” Bret teased with a small smirk as he reached over to grab one of the actual bales of barley with ease, “Go place this one in front of the doors, we need some for the other animals as well”.

Shawn stared at the bale in front of him before looking at Bret and back at the bale. This man was lucky he was attractive. With a slight nod of the head and a small huff, Shawn reached down and lifted it up by the bands that held it together with a grunt. It was surprisingly on the heavy side… But nothing too heavy for him to deal with! The two worked in almost surprisingly comfortable silence, the model would carry the bales to where Bret pointed. Time seemed to fly by until he stopped being passed the bales and a small sheen of sweat coated Shawn’s forehead and the back of his neck. Temperature had easily risen by the time they finished and Shawn was starting to feel it compared to the refreshing breeze he had the previous day while driving.

“Fuck… How-...How do you do this… every morning?” soft pants left Shawn as he tugged at the collar of his shirt slightly with one hand while the other fanned at his face.

“After doing it for so many years, it does get easier” the other let out a small laugh seeing the other struggling slightly, “We’re not even done, we have to sort em’ out… But I’ll be nice and do it for you, go sit outside for a bit and I’ll call you when I need you”.

Hearing that felt like heaven. He didn’t have to help out with the next thing and got to sit down! He could of easily taken the chance of course, but he had to be a good guest like he already was by asking,

“Are you…” the model panted out once again, still trying to catch his breath, “Are you sure?... I know I ain't as big as you, but I can still help!”

Bret glanced over his shoulder as he lifted up a bale onto his free shoulder with ease and not even sweating compared to the other.

“Like I said, I’ve got this, I’ve done this for years, go sit in the shade” the brunette gave Shawn a soft smile before entering a stall whistling a small tune to himself.

Shawn watched in awe, once again ogling the man. His muscles just flexed perfectly as he lifted up the barley without an issue. Now, Shawn didn’t really have a type. He had slept and flirted with both men and women of all different shapes and sizes, Diesel obviously being his biggest from pure height alone, but his ex Marty was almost similar size as himself… or well, a few inches smaller… Or centimeters… But either way, he could admit, he did love a brunette. This Bret just seemed to tick so many boxes for Shawn even if he couldn’t understand why, but he did understand that he did want Bret and he’d get his way eventually.

“O…Oh yeah, right, okay, holler for me if ya’ need me!” He quickly called out as he escaped the barn before the man could catch him staring at him again. He wasn’t too sure what time it was, but he was glad there was some shade to sit in… Just the only issue being, well, there weren't any benches or chairs or even pillows to sit on near the barn! Just dirt! Shawn might have been staying on a ranch, but there was one thing for certain, he wasn’t gonna stoop that low. He was not sitting on the floor and ruining his lovely pants! They were expensive! A small disgruntled huff left Shawn, he could head to the house and take his small ‘break’ there if he wanted to… But then missing Bret work? And having to deal with the others parents inside the house and do even more chores there? No thanks! Sure, as a kid, he loved mucking out in the rain, getting all dirty and having fun, but he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was a famous model and he was not going to put his standards that low. Anxiously, Shawn tapped his fingers against the box in his pocket, the box which contained two options to soothe himself when he felt like this. Carefully he chewed at his bottom lip, glancing over his shoulder to see where Bret was. He didn’t see him at any of the other stalls so he must have been busy with the first one he entered.

“Fuck it, one wont hurt… Not like m’ gonna use em’ all” He muttered under his breath as he eagerly reached into his pocket to grab a good friend of his. Pulling out the box of cigs and his lighter, he moved further away from the barn doors giving one more glance over his shoulder for reassurance. Bret wouldn’t smell the stuff from in there anyways, he could always smoke half and leave the rest for later, he just needed something to calm his head. Opening the flimsy, old cardboard box, Shawn moved a few of the cigarettes out of the way to reveal his premade joints. He always carried them around for days he needed a more… Clearer head. He would of chosen a different option like his painkillers in his suitcase, ones that really, reaallly sorted his head and gave him even better times, especially when his back acted up. Those ones were the fun ones to take, but he knew how he acted when he took them. Or well, mostly remembered how he was. He heard plenty from Hunter and Diesel about him being ‘erratic’ and ‘argumental’... But others like Marty, Razor and even Kid thought he was more of a ‘party animal’. He didn’t want to risk it while being at this place at the moment.

Carefully pulling out one of the thin yet slightly messy joints, he placed it between his lips as  he closed up the box and placed it back in his pocket. He was about to light the thing and relax, yet a small noise caught his attention which did make him jump slightly. Quickly turning around and facing the barn, Shawn’s baby blue eyes landed on a small, almost shadow-like figure exiting the building. Its eyes were a bright orange as they stared up at Shawn, its fur was like ash, a deep gray and black stripes that carved the way down its small, athletic body. 

“Me-ow?” The small, smooth furred cat chirped out curiously as it headed over to Shawn as it began to affectionately rub its head against Shawn’s legs as well as its body.

“Holy shit…” Shawn mumbled out as he watched the creature slither back and forth through Shawn’s legs, a soft rumble leaving the cat as it looked up at him. Quickly, he took the joint out of his mouth, stuffing it in his pocket without a care as he slowly and carefully crouched down.

“Hey lil’ guy,” He called out as he gently scratched the top of the cat's head. A bright smile reached his face as he heard the cat purring louder, “Aren't you just the sweetest lil’ thing ever!” He laughed out as he began to pet the cat more, the feeling of uneasiness leaving him as well as the irritation that came with it. 

“Mrrp!” the cat replied back almost instantly, almost like it was chatting back to Shawn. His smile grew bigger, he did find himself being more of a cat person than anything. Sure dogs were cool, Hunter had a few, but cats? They were just like him! Wanting attention when they wanted it, lounging around all day… They were just peaceful. He did say that one day he was going to get himself one, maybe a Siamese or even an American curl, but as his days got busier, the thought eventually left him. Of course, it didn’t stop him from dragging Diesel around into pet shops to look at the kittens as well as the other animals and pointing out the ones he would have if he could.

It seemed like hours had passed as he kept himself entertained with the cat, the small thing was extremely friendly and playful. It tried to climb into his lap multiple times as well as play with his laces on his shoes which he didn’t mind at all! It was adorable! He was enjoying his time with the little thing until he suddenly noticed the shadow looming over them both as well as his newly found friend staring up past Shawn. Slowly looking up, the models eyes slowly ran up the familiar look of dark, well used boots, those dark almost navy looking jeans, the same black shirt that was dusted in some barley before locking on to those lovely, deep chocolate eyes. A bashful smile was all Shawn gave before speaking,

“... I hope you haven’t been standin’ there too long”

“Maybe the last minute or two… Simba keeping you entertained?” Bret answered back with a chuckle, watching as Shawn slowly stood up with a small grunt.

“Is that what he is called? Seriously?” Shawn held back his laughter at the name.

“Yes, seriously, It’s better than the last cat we had… Owen named him Simba because he was loving The Lion King at the time, and when Diana was a kid, she named the other cat Kitty” Bret explained chuckling more as he heard the cat meowing constantly to get their attention, “He doesn't answer to Simba though which I’m more than happy about… He’s real friendly and needy”. The taller man reached down to try to pick Simba up, but frowned when Simba hissed slightly at him and went between Shawn’s legs.

“Huh, sure, real friendly… He’s a sweetheart to me” Shawn finally laughed out, “Clearly he doesn’t want to be your friend at the moment”. “I feed the little shit as well…” Bret muttered under his breath as he leaned back up as he watched Shawn carefully pick up Simba without any issues, “Traitor” he whispered out as his frown turned into a small, soft smile. His eyes softened slightly at the sight of the two.

[grimbeak]

Welcome to Night Vale episode 250 "Father Kevin" transcript

Episode description: There is no Night Vale. There is Mother Lauren's Brood. We are loved.

I don’t make the rules. I just gleefully enforce them, even though I don’t have to.

Welcome to Night Vale.

###

There is no Ralphs. There is Mother Lauren’s pantry. There is no hole out back of the Ralphs-- there is Mother Lauren’s soil embrace. There is no Night Vale. There is Mother Lauren’s brood.

We are loved. We are loved! We are--

[Radio interference. It fades in and out between incomprehensible moments of a man speaking, a woman speaking another language, and a band, before increasing in volume and suddenly cutting out.]

Sorry. It is difficult to break free of the malign influence of Mother Lauren. 

We live in two realities. One in which all is well, and one in which we are teetering over an edge from which we cannot return. I speak from both realities. I speak from both sides of my mouth. 

The conflict that roiled Night Vale continues, but in a strange, slow way. Mother Lauren stands on a podium in what once was Grove Park, her tendrils snaking through every part of the town, and through many of the people. The buildings expand, and contract, like lungs. The trees are melting. The people of Night Vale still bravely fight, but like people fighting in a painting; smudgey, and two-dimensional. 

The Boy--who is the younger version of Kevin from Desert Bluffs--stands next to Mother Lauren, holding her hand. His face shows exertion, as if the greatest battle is inside his body. But he cannot move. 

The last time Lauren came to Night Vale, she came as a representative of StrexCorp, here to conquer us in the name of capitalism. This time? Is different. This time she fights with stranger, stronger stuff. I don’t think she is turning us into another Desert Bluffs, I think, if anything, she is making all of us part of her body. She is transcending, and we are fodder for her change. 

Mother Lauren speaks, and her voice rings out from every part of her body-- which is the entire city. “I am bored already of this,” she says. “It was too easy to defeat you. Your loss is not as delicious to me as I had hoped.” 

But all is not yet lost-- there is a plan. Our future lies with Alejandra Nuñez, Ronnie Sharma, and Nanako Barnes of Mr. Prescott’s 5th Period AP English Class, otherwise known as “The Library Tweens”. These brave children have followed in Tamika Flynn’s footsteps, coming face-to-face with a librarian and emerging victorious. Now they must come face-to-face with something maybe…  fifteen percent more horrifying than a librarian. A twisted, cosmic god. 

The kids told me they could not give me the specifics of the plan, only that it involved using ropes and grappling hooks to cross the dangerous city streets through the air, guerrilla-style strikes on Mother Lauren’s weak points, capturing Kevin, and finally attacking Mother Lauren when she least suspects it-- at noon today. She’ll never see it coming. 

As part of the plan, I have been asked to create a distraction so that Mother Lauren and Kevin won’t notice what they are doing until it is too late. They told me it is “vitally important” that no-one notice until the plan has been completed, and so I had been sworn to secrecy-- a secrecy I will break for no-one! Except of course, you, my listeners. I could never keep anything from you. 

I thought a lot about what a good distraction would be, and here’s what I’ve come up with-- Hey! Look over there!

[Cecil runs away from the microphone, his footsteps going right-to-left-to-right, before they fade away. In the distance, after a brief pause, a window is smashed. Several sirens sound, seeming to be cars driving down the street as they fade in and out accompanied with scraping metal. Multiple dogs bark before they fade away as well. A car zooms down the street, seeming to possibly loop around the station before fading into silence. An air-raid siren fades in and out as wind blows, brief chanting is heard, what sounds like an old movie with incomprehensible dialogue plays. The siren stops as the chanting returns, an incomprehensible voice seeming to come from a radio plays, a rumbling is heard, and the Indiana Jones theme plays follows the rumbling right-to-left. Wind seems to blow again and fades out as Cecil’s footsteps return, the beginning few sounding like he just jumped through the window he may have broken. He continues walking over what sounds like metal, and then returns to the microphone, panting through his words.]

So…sorry… little out of breath. …We’ll see if that worked. 

Oh no. Despite what some might say is the best distraction anyone has done in the history of getting people to look away from something important, it appears that Mother Lauren somehow got wind of the plan. She flinched, and the world flinched with her. She glared, and the world swooned. She no longer even has to fight; Night Vale is her thick, sludging heart, her pockmarked lungs-- she has made us part of her disease. 

“I am the universe itself,” she howled, an air raid siren of a voice coming from all places at once. “To fight me is to fight the fabric of existence-- a laughable effort.” 

The Library Tweens were seized by Mother Lauren’s drones--who once were our own citizens, but now are pink, spongy lumps with no eyes, constantly screaming; “Help me! I still feel all of it, there is some vital part of me that remains untainted, I still have a soul!” as they lumber comically towards the tweens. The tweens put up a valiant fight, but they were captured and thrown into the town prison-- which now is covered in a pale, flakey skin. 

The Boy watched this all happen, holding onto Mother Lauren’s hands, enfolded in her multitude of oil-slick wings. Something came over him, and he turned, and struck out at Mother Lauren! With the effort of his entire soul, he resisted her influence, and he stuck a knife into her side! …Without bothering to look his way, she weaved her tendrils around him and he was absorbed into her being. The Boy now stands at her feet, the tendrils fused with his skin, and pulsing sickeningly. His eyes are blank whites. His hands flap about like they are playing an invisible piano. 

Oh, Night Vale… This is the moment of greatest despair. We have not only been defeated, but… changed. We are no longer who we are. 

And to make matters worse, here comes Kevin, unfolding himself from the crowd, strutting up to the podium of his victory. 

He looks around at the city that he has finally driven under his thumb. After years of resisting him, we can resist no more. He sees the bowling alley, enrobed in veins and arteries and malignant tumors. He sees town hall turned into a tongue, covered in white fuzz. 

He sees my own station, my beloved radio station, now entirely made of the same stuff as toenails. He sees all the evidence of his victory. And then he turns, and looks at The Boy. The Boy that he came back for. The Boy that is the younger version of himself, he looks at the helpless boy and he smiles. 

Here, there is a… heavy stillness, but somewhere, thunder. Somewhere, snow. Somewhere, far away, weather. 

###

Weather: Cutting Teeth by Priscilla Snow.

###

Well. 

Okay. 

I don’t know what to do here, honestly. 

Usually when we go to the weather report, a great struggle, or, climactic event happens concurrently with it, and we come back to a problem solved. With my perspective now shifted to the past I can then fill you in on how we made it through yet another dangerous day in our fair town. Now some people mistake this for the weather actually fixing the problem but that’s… that’s not the case. The weather usually just happens at the same time as what fixes the problem, and then I, (utilizing my expert narrative skills), tell you how that happened. 

This time however, everything is more or less how we left it. The Boy? Still captive. Mother Lauren? Still ascendant. And Kevin? Still smiling. 

There will be no victorious shift in perspective. Only a terrifying march through the ceaseless present. And in that present moment, Kevin turns to The Boy. He kneels down, still smiling, and takes The Boy’s hand. Gently, he untangles Mother Lauren’s tendrils from The Boy’s skin. He guides The Boy down from the podium. Mother Lauren, her eyes to the cosmos, is seemingly impassive to the final meager death throes of our little town. 

The Boy looks at Kevin. Kevin smiles at The Boy-- I do not like that smile, but then… I have never liked Kevin’s smile.

 “The last time I was here,” Kevin says, “I said that this was a situation I would not be able to handle alone. And I was right! And I was wrong. Because I can handle it with just me, but, I cannot handle it with only one of me.” 

“I’m sorry,” The Boy says, “but I don’t know who you are.”

It seems that his encounter with the body and mind of Mother Lauren has left him without his memories. He stares blankly at the world like it was a book in a language he took a few classes back in high school, like he should know it, but he doesn’t. 

“That’s okay,” Kevin says, “because I remember enough for the both of us. I’ve never talked much about my father-- he was a jovial man, but a stern man. He was a fair man, but with priorities I did not always understand. I think he did the best job he could-- in fact, I know he did, because, in this moment, I understand him better than anyone has ever understood their own father.”

“Okay,” The Boy says. He clearly doesn’t know why this man is telling him this. He says, “I don’t have a father.” He doesn’t say this tragically, but like he was telling the time to someone who asked. 

“Ah,” says Kevin, “but you do. My childhood was a strange riddle I never could quite solve, and here you are, a neat solution to the question of my life.”

Listeners, I am starting to understand what Kevin is getting at here-- and I’m not sure I like it, but it does have a certain… symmetry to it. Life is rarely fair, but it is often balanced. 

“What are you saying?” The Boy says. 

“Your name is Kevin, and I am your father, “ says Kevin, who is Kevin’s Father. 

“I am? You are?” says The Boy who is Kevin. 

“Yes,” says Kevin’s Father. “I will raise you well, or well enough, or, well, enough, you know? I will see you through.”

He looks up at Mother Lauren. She finally looks down, her tendrils weave through the earth and the bricks and the flesh of Night Vale, her sunny smile clouds over. 

“I thought I was through with you,” she says. 

“You were wrong,” says Kevin, and Kevin’s Father, simultaneously. Kevin’s Father stands tall, and Kevin stands as tall as he can, which is not nearly as tall as his father. Not yet. 

“Dead wrong!” calls a voice from the crowd, and here steps forward Alejandra Nuñez, Ronnie Sharma, and Nanako Barnes of Mr. Prescott’s 5th Period AP English Class, otherwise known as “The Library Tweens”. 

“I thought you were in jail,” I say from my radio booth, because this is all happening in the present moment so it just now occurred to me that I could be an active part of these events. 

“We were,” says Ronnie, “but then, this nice old lady busted us out!”

“I am not old! I’m in my early twenties for God’s sake!” says Tamika Flynn.

“She did a real daring and action-packed jailbreak!” says Nanako. “I wouldn’t have known someone that ancient had it in her!”

“Ugh,” says Tamika. But she does look exhilarated about having once again taken part in an adventure. In one hand she holds a rope, and in her other hand she holds a copy of the novel “Autumn” by Ali Smith. It’s the British first-edition, the one that was printed on a working blowtorch. 

“Point is!” says Alejandra to Mother Lauren, “You’ll have to stand against us!”

“And me,” says Tamika, shooting a menacing jet of fire from Ali Smith’s elliptical portrait of Brexit-era Britain. 

“And me,” says Kevin’s Father. 

Kevin, the young boy that he is, looks around, unsure. This is all a lot of new information all at once. But he makes his decision; “And me,” he says. 

Mother Lauren laughs, and the mountains laughs with her, hollow booms in canyons and passes. She swats at Kevin-- but Kevin dodges. Mother Lauren’s face flickers with concern, she swats again-- nothing connects. The streets roil. 

“I knew you before,” Kevin’s Father says, “I know that somewhere in there is human vulnerability!”

“Laughable!” screams Mother Lauren. She is not laughing. 

Mother Lauren’s drones advance, but a few stop. And then, human faces start to come out of their pink, fleshy lumps. 

“We could neither breathe, nor could we die!” the people inside the drones say. “We were… trapped! In the moment between breaths! It was torture without end!” 

Other Night Vale citizens give them thumbs-up, indicating empathy.

“No! I am a god!” shouts Mother Lauren. 

“Yes,” says Kevin’s Father, “and like any god, you are defined by the belief of your worshippers.”

Mother Lauren’s face screws up in fury. And then she scowls, up again at the cosmos. “Yeah! Okay! Screw it!” she says. “This universe was getting too small for me anyway.” 

And with that, she floats into the sky. The stars open like a door for her. She steps through-- she glances back, for a moment, at the city below her. “One day, I will return,” she says. “Or I won’t. T B D.” And then the stars swing shut behind her. And she is gone. 

Gradually, the city comes back to itself. The people shake off the influence of Mother Lauren. The buildings. and the earth, and the trees return to themselves. All is as it was. Minus those who are dead, or injured, or missing, which is… a good amount of people. 

At the center of all this is a boy and his father. The boy is holding his father’s hand. The Boy is holding his own hand. Kevin is holding Kevin’s hand, and together, Kevin walks back to his home, to live, if not always happily, then at the very least, ever after.

After the Kevins pass through it, Carlos pulls the plug on the portal, deciding that science, while worth some cost, is not worth every cost. Science must be in the service of humanity, never the other way around. It is a tool, not a goal. 

Oh-- he says that the portal made a real cool “zap” sound as it turned off. 

The Library Tweens--as they wish to be called--have declared the creation of a new teen militia, to protect Night Vale from any further incursions from Desert Bluffs Too, and anyone else who might want to mess with them. Tamika Flynn, who knows a thing or two about leading a teen militia, offered to be a mentor, but The Library Tweens put out a statement saying; “Uh, that’s okay, no thanks, ma’am.” 

What lies ahead for Night Vale? 

I cannot say. Our future is an unwritten slate. Our past is a diary scribbled in handwriting none of us can read, and our present is the view through a dirty window-- specifically, for me, the dirty window in this studio, through which I can see Amber Akinyi teaching her son how to ride a bike. I can see Michelle Nguyen and Maureen Johnson taking their poodle-earwig mix (or, poowig) out for a walk. I can see-- ooo, I can see a mysterious van with the symbol of a labyrinth on it with a man who is not tall and a man who is not short inside, driving some unknown cargo out into the scrublands.   

In short, I see the day-to-day of a town who has been through… a lot, but remained, through it all, very much itself. 

I see Night Vale. 

And I love it. 

Goodnight, my favorite town! Goodnight. 

###

PROVERB:  Hit me with your best shot! Ow! Okay, actually, that sucked! Uh, please hit me with one of your worse shots, instead, thank you. Ugh.

[matan4il]

More good-natured Mileapo silliness from their recent trips! (the first post is here)

On Jul 24 Mile shared a pic of himself in a Ralph Lauren green jacket, giving us a glorious back view:

The next day, Apo visited iQiyi's office, then left China for Bangkok. He was wearing a green Ralph Lauren shirt:

*Coincidence? I think not.gif*

It reminded a lot of fans of the green shirt Apo was given as a gift by a fan, and which Mile wore to a concert, which begs the question, if Apo does love this style, why did he not wear that gift himself in the first place? Passing it on with the explanation of "it would fit him better than me" doesn't seem to apply here.

Mile's mom liked a pic of Apo on the IG page of Mos (BOC's make-up artist). I adore it when Mile's family shows support for something that is specifically about Apo rather than a Mileapo pic/post/banner, 'coz then people can't dismiss it as support for Mile that just so happens to also include Apo as his co-star.

During an entire week in Belgium, Mile only posted his (normally daily) GN message twice: once when he went on his like spree on Apo's posts on Weibo, and the other time was last night, after Apo returned to Thailand safely. In fact, yesterday Mile even added the words "miss miss" to his GN with a green heart emoji. No prizes for you if you guess who Mile is missing.

Perhaps someone who was himself up at 4 in the morning Bangkok time (despite the time different between Thailand and Shang Hai only being one hour), liking and commenting on Mile's post...

And lastly, somehow they managed to dress very similarly on several days, not just one, for example today they were both wearing blue, even though it's not a color they commonly wear. Here's Mile in Paris:

And Apo in Bangkok:

(all of my Kinnporsche/Mileapo posts are at this tag)

[nattaphum]

Mileapo - 3 days in Seoul

March 13

Mile and Apo arrived at the airport dressed like cowboys

and took a flight to Seoul

March 14

Fans welcomed them at the Seoul airport

and then they disappeared for the entire day. Only mile posted pics of his day at night:

The first story is taken in a Ralph Lauren store.

They went (again) to a pet shop called Ggulggul. Mile posted the photo of a dog who is the same dog Apo took a pic with, back in october.

March 15

Finally Apo started posting too. From this moment till the end of the trip they posted many matching stories.

They went to eat dinner at a restaurant called "Saemaeul Restaurant". They took the same vid from their phones

but Pond is the only one who showed us their faces lol

As they were having dinner, Apo posted on IG a set of pics from the world tour and they both commented on it:

After dinner they took a walk

that probably made them hungry again ahah

March 16

Mile went to a guitar store, maybe alone (he posted the story today but he’s wearing the jacket he wore the first day)

They went to a flower shop together🌸🌸🌸

met a dog that was so cute that they couldn't resist taking a pic :)

and then went to the exhibition of David Jimin. They took maaaaany pics. These are their matching stories:

I particularly loved this matching trio❤️:

The artist was flooded by notifs from both mileapo and fans so he started following them :)

After the exhibition they had to go to the airport but apparently they needed to make a run to the pharmacy first. Fans spotted them crossing the street:

Apo was carrying Mile's bag too and they seemed very happy (pls my heart)

PS. Mile posted a story of a concert in Bangkok of one of his favorite metal bands, that he missed because of the korea trip.

He commented about it on a tweet of a fan today (march 17):

"was so happy in korea too" awwwww.

Last pic (for now) of Mileapo sightseeing Seoul 😍:

Finally they went to the Seoul airport:

and safely landed in Bangkok :)

❤️

Below you can find the maps of their trip, provided by iyyene

[instructionsnotincluded]

Wild Winds

Chapter VII

Excerpt:

Rafe Cameron appeared out of the darkness a few seconds later, a very soft looking long sleeve t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, paired with some khaki colored shorts and those flip flops he always seemed to wear. He lifted his hand to run along his chin, his eyes trained on her as he stepped closer. “You hang out in dark alleys often?”

“Only when I need to get away from the chaos,” Logan watched Rafe move until he was standing beside her. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think this party went with your vibe.”

The corner of Rafe’s lip popped and he glanced down at his feet, “My vibe?” He lifted his head to look back at her, “What’s my vibe?”

Logan lifted the cigarette up to her mouth, inhaling deeply from it before she released it slowly, eyes flickering across Rafe as she dropped it back to her side, “Efortlessly preppy, Ralph Lauren in the summer and Burberry in the fall, back nine with an afternoon tea time because you’re still fucked up from the night before. Gelled hair, Drake coming through the speakers…vacations, Instamodel DMs…an asshole who appreciates the finer things in life.”

Rafe laughed at that, shaking his head as he glanced away from her, the atmosphere too charged to look directly at her as she brought the cigarette back up to her lips, inhaling once more, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Only when I want to call my ex,” Logan ashed the cigarette again, turning her head to blow the smoke away from Rafe, “it’s like a…test. See if I still want to call him after I’ve finished it.”

“Do you?”

Logan lifted one of her shoulders, “Not usually. I typically only have a desire for one toxic thing at a time.”

Rafe hummed, leaning fully against the wall beside her now, running his hand along his neck, “It’s uh, Kendrick, by the way.”

Logan laughed, head tilting back as a full smile crossed her face, “Of course. I should have guessed that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (8)

My bikini has never gotten as much use as it does here. It seems like the only appropriate thing to wear, with the sun beating down as it does, even for activities that are decidedly not water-based. Like now, as I follow behind Venetia, her copy of Harry Potter and a water bottle tucked under my arm. 

The grass grows steadily rougher and taller as we get further from the house, and begins to scratch at my ankles. “And it’s just a field?” I ask. 

Venetia rolls her eyes, looking back over her shoulder to me. “It’s tradition, Evie. Everyone that comes here for the summer has to participate. No exceptions.”

“It’s just a little weird, right?” I ask. “Getting naked just to sit in a field?”

“You’re telling me you’re not curious at all about what Ollie’s hiding under his shorts?” She says. 

“Not really.” I say, honestly. 

“Farleigh then?” She says, teasing. 

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “No.”

I can tell by her grin that she doesn’t believe me at all. 

As soon as we reach the edge of the real field, the line where the grass reaches my thighs, Venetia starts to strip, untying the strings of her bikini and letting the bits of fabric fall to the grass. A little ways into the tall grass, Felix and Farleigh’s heads can just be seen, Farleigh’s sunglassed eyes pointed in our direction. 

When Venetia’s fully undressed, she takes her book and the bottle from me, and traipses into the grass. Nerves flare up as I start to undress, trying to ignore the eyes in the grass, watching. I let my top drop first, and then the bottoms, and then quickly make my way into the grass, finding a spot between Venetia and Farleigh, just like the dinner table seating. 

“You have a tattoo.” Farleigh says. 

It forces me to look at him, and I steadfastly look at his face and not any lower. “I do.” I’d sort of forgotten about it, considering that it’s not usually out in the open, hidden away on my hip. It’s small - a little set of plastic vampire teeth. 

“What’s it for?” He asks. 

“Halloween.” I admit, a little shamefully. “It’s my favorite holiday.”

On my other side, Venetia laughs. “So American.”

I make myself more comfortable, and bring my sunglasses down from my hair and back where they belong. It’s weird - but I’m not the only one that’s naked, and it’s a good opportunity to get rid of my tan lines. Venetia dives back into Harry Potter, seemingly unbothered by the nakedness. I can’t wrap my head around the dynamic between her and Felix - I would never want to see my brothers naked, much less willingly. 

As subtly as I can, I turn, and take a peek at Farleigh from behind my sunglasses. I can’t help that he’s hot - a bitch, sure - but undeniably hot. Long, lean and gorgeously brown, he’s ridiculously my type - something I’d been missing at Cambridge. Something about being one of the most prestigious schools in England seems to make the student body so… boring. Classic, some would say, but the same Ralph Lauren polo and sweater combination gets tired after a while. 

Still, I’m not sure if I like him. He really is a bitch, for lack of a better word. The way he talks to Oliver, to Pamela - about Venetia, last night on the steps outside - is just plain mean. I can’t know what goes on in his head, but the way he’s so outspoken to Oliver and Pamela, and the way that he so aggressively questioned me last night - he called me a guard dog, but I could just as easily use that on him. Fierce towards outsiders, and barely rewarded for it. 

The rest of this house, eccentric as they are, fall easily into patterns. Farleigh is the one I can’t understand. 

My thoughts are broken by Venetia’s voice. “We’re over here, Ollie!”

Felix perks up as well. “Hi mate!”

I shift, propping myself up on an elbow to get a look at him. “Hey.”

Farleigh stirs, an amused grin coming over his face. “No trunks allowed in the field.”

I expect Oliver to balk, considering how he wears his shirts buttoned all the way to the top, but he strips with almost no hesitation, and continues on his way over to where we’ve camped out in the bush. My eyes widen.

“Well well well.” Farleigh says, still amused, but now in a different way. 

“Leave him alone.” Felix says, gesturing for Oliver to come sit by him. 

“Good for you.” Farleigh says, and then tips his head towards me. “What a twist.”

“I know.” I say, keeping my voice low enough that hopefully only Farleigh and Venetia can hear me. I turn to look at Venetia, peering over the top of my sunglasses with a knowing look. 

“Stop it.” She hisses, shooting me a sharp look, and then flicking her eyes toward Farleigh, turning my implication back around on me. 

I roll my eyes, and move my sunglasses back into place. I hate that she’s right.

&lt; previous part | next part >

[brian-in-finance]

Video 📹 from 11 May 2020 Harper’s Bazaar

We Want to Be Caitríona Balfe Reading Poetry on the Beach Right Now

The Outlander actress recites W. B. Yeats in a short film by photographer and director James Houston.

In a new video, Caitríona Balfe is spending her day the way we'd like to be spending our time social distancing: on the beach, alone, reading poetry. The footage of the Outlander star was filmed back in February, months before the concept of quarantines and lockdowns had even crossed our minds, but now, the clip of Balfe in solitude is even more relevant.

The short film was shot by photographer and director James Houston—an old friend and frequent collaborator of Balfe's—in L.A. In it, the actress runs barefoot on the sand, laughing with the wind blowing in her hair.

"Shooting Caitríona is always such a wonderful and rewarding experience," Houston tells BAZAAR.com. "She is a dear friend and a true natural beauty. Even though her star has risen over recent years as a respected actress, she has remained the same grounded and humble girl I met years ago. I loved this shoot of her because it showcases her timeless beauty. I chose to take her to the ocean with minimal styling, hair, and makeup to capture an intimate, raw portrait of her."

In the background, Balfe narrates the poem "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" by W. B. Yeats, which was a collaborative choice made by both the actress and director. "After I directed this piece for Caitríona, I was thinking about what to put behind the visuals," Houston explains. "I know Caitríona is well read and loves poetry, so rather than just use a music track, I asked her to send me a few of her favorite poems. I chose W. B. Yeats as it just felt right for Caitríona and the visuals. After recording her reading the poem (which only took two takes), we added the sounds of the ocean and birds. I really love the result."

Watch the full video above, and read Balfe's interview on last night's Outlander Season 5 finale, featuring more photographs from Houston below.

Harper’s Bazaar

Sweater, Ralph Lauren

Coat, Aritzia; skirt, The Row

Remember… William Butler Yeats, widely considered one of the greatest poets of the English language, received the 1923 Nobel Prize for Literature. His work was greatly influenced by the heritage and politics of Ireland. — poets.org