#six was v fun—didn’t think I’d like it as much as I did

[annikuh]

I went from seeing no live shows at all to now having a million to see. like I saw Six on a random whim last week (love broadway lotteries), I have tix to a cabaret tonight, two friends in separate shows (one this month and one next month), and then I’m tryna grab spamalot tickets before it closes next month like whadda hell, this is fun

it kinda always comes with some melancholy tho bc im like…goddamnit i wanna do some theater too, but im just convinced ill never be able to do it ever again :/ like im afraid ill be too scared and wont be able to memorize anything ever again and fuck up on stage and its just like AUGHHHH very annoying very frustrating.

me and some friends (hilariously both the ones im seeing over the next few weeks) are talking abt putting on our own lil stuff, but it keeps feeling like a pipe dream😭

like one friend group really wants to do a production of nevermore (a show ive already done abt 6/7 years ago [holy fuck time flies])at a local cemetery that sounds interested in the vague idea. planning on sitting down with one of the event coordinators soon and just casually chatting abt it. it would be money but it would be fun.

and then another few friends wanna work on putting together john & jen (one of my FAVORITE musicals). we know we’re deffo a lil young for it, so it wouldn’t be anything significant, just for fun thing. if we did it anywhere for real, it wouldn’t be for a while, but would be much cheaper.

but im like…uh oh is Annika still talented enough for these intense and involved shows? maybe, but also it’s been a very long time since I’ve done one so…

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[mulansaucey]

Bat Wives Wine Night - 2

  AZRIEL X READER (SMUT)

Thank you for all the feedback, hearing how much you guys liked it means so much to me. This part is very steamy so please enjoy. I kept this as reader’s POV because I’m so swamped with work right now I dont have time to switch POVs. My request is open so if you want me to write something for you, I’d be more than happy. I’m still figuring how I’m gonna start writing more so bear with me. I hope you guys like it!

WARNINGS: Alch use, P in V, oral sex, semi public sex, fingering, BDSM vibes/dynamic, sex under the influence but consensual, established relationship and boundaries. 

    Shit. We were finally caught. It looked kind of absurd, six people standing in a semi circle completely still with raunchy, erotic music booming hard in the background. I feel a talon poking at my shields and I at first thought it was Rhys ready to tell me off and get my ass out of here but instead it was darling Feyre. 

“Bathroom.” 

    Didn’t have to tell me twice. I go to move but the shadow firmly wraps around each of our legs, cementing us to the floor. I narrowed my eyes at Azriel and the shadows, soothing shadows wrap around my arms like an apology. 

    “I gotta piss!” I scream out, not only did I actually have to piss but I needed an excuse to go somewhere quiet and try to sober up to explain to my mate why I was getting wasted without telling him where I was. Cass grins and starts cackling, the first bat boy to break. He goes over to Nesta immediately finding his place within her arms, lips already on her neck. She struggles to contain a moan, by now Az relents his shadows.

    He walks towards me with an amused expression, “That was quite a show up there.” He said, gesturing to the stunt I pulled on the table. He wrapped his arms around me while I hid in his shoulder. I’m blushing furiously by now. 

    “I can explain, just let me sober up a bit in the bathroom first.” I go to grab Nesta, seeing her making out with Cass, peeling them off each other. I make my way to Feyre giggling in Rhys neck. Once I gather both girls we stumble into the surprisingly empty bathroom and just sit. Not the cleanest surface but honestly we just need a minute to process. I take the time to actually pee, moving back to the floor once I get done washing my hands (A/N PLEASE WASH YOUR HANDS). 

    “I’m a little relieved but a little sad we got caught.” Feyre says, resting the back of her head against a stall, Nesta leaning hers on the sink to my right. I give a nod but smile looking at them both. The shit we got up to has been great and I think we accomplished what we needed these past years. Drunk me is nostalgic so I open my mouth to reminisce on a night out a few months back. 

    “Remember one night we snuck out to Day Court to party with Helion?” We can’t help but laugh. Nesta adds, “Of course I do, he made us lift him up during a keg stand. His thighs were huge, felt like I was holding a beef cake.” I cackle at the memory of helping a High Lord do something so absurd. 

    “My favorite is when Y/N tried to dance battle a sentry, never knew you could do the splits.” Feyre gasping at the end of her sentence, not being able to hold in her laughter. 

    Nesta’s eyes brightened and she stood up. She pulled Feyre and I to our feet and said, “The fun has just begun now, let’s get out of here. Leave the boys to ponder.” I started giggling, the alcohol making me ten times more likely to agree to anything. 

    “Where would we go?” I ask, everything is closed and we can’t just bar hop the boys will eventually find us AGAIN. 

     “LET'S GO SEE AMREN!” Feyre squeals, she winnows us out before we can even agree. We pop up right in front of Amren’s apartment door. We knocked probably more than we should have. Amren’s pale but beautiful face is revealed. 

    “What do you want?” Straight to the point like she always is. We all smile brightly at her very unamused face. 

    “The boys caught us drinking so we ditched them to come see you.” I let out while giving my biggest puppy dog eyes that work on Azriel, not so much on Amren. She reluctantly opens up to let us through, not willing to close the door on her High Lady, being sisters with Feyre has its perks. We tumble in, getting comfortable in her living room. 

    “You can’t stay long, Varian comes over in an hour or two.” Amren says walking back to her room to clean up a bit. I just now notice she’s in her nice silk robe, with probably nothing underneath. The faelights are turned to a dark red, casting the apartment in a sensual vibe. They be fucking. 

    I then feel Azriel calling for me through the bond. I send back a reassuring push, to let him know I’m fine. 

    “Where are you?” his words echoing through me. I feel slightly bad so I answer back, “I’m at a friend's house, I’m fine.” I can feel him get annoyed and ask where I am. I just send another push of love and reassurance and ignore his calls. Will I regret it by the morning? Yes. I can already feel the spanks coming my way when he finds me. I’ve broken so many of his “rules”. They call it “funishment” for a reason. 

    Amren hands us each a glass of water and some bread to sober up. 

    “So, what the fuck are you guys doing here?” Amren asks, settling onto an armchair. We go into detail about our secret Wine Nights. The only sign of amusement from the short, scary woman was a smirk. “Well, you sure do give them a run for their money, girl.” 

     We spend the hour sipping on our water and gossiping with Amren, enjoying the chill of the night. “Sorry to burst your bubble, girl but your mate is asking if you’re here and I don’t plan on lying to my High Lord.” We all groan, not wanting to move from our spot. 

    “Plus Varian will  be here any second and I do not care if you are here to see us fucking.” Amren lets out in a breathy laugh. That scrambles us to our feet fast. Not before snagging a bottle of Amren’s nice wine. We all leave to walk the streets until we get to almost the back of Velaris. Walking along the Sidra until it’s just docks and water. I feel a talon on my shields and judging from the looks on my friends faces I can tell Rhys is reaching out to all of us. 

    “You went to Amren’s? Are you guys serious right now? Tell me where you are, NOW.” Rhys almost shouts into our minds. I can tell Feyre relents and lets him know we’re towards the end of the city. Knowing the boys will be here any minute we admire the water. We’re all leaning on the rail and each other. Taking turns sipping on the red wine. 

    “I wanna swiiiiimmmmm” Feyre whines, she’s already taking off her shoes and I agree and go to start stripping. Nesta grabs my arm with a warning looking around to make sure nobody saw her sisters butt ass naked. 

    “We shouldn’t, what if someone sees us!” Nesta tries to whisper but it comes out more like a loud shout. I clamp my hand on her mouth, less gracefully than I liked. 

    “Shhhh! Come in, we will be fine, the water sounds soooo nice.” I say, going to take off my pants. We all strip down to our underwear, Fey and I wanted to be naked but we stayed in our panties and bra to appease Nesta’s worry. Of course my High Lady jumped in first, a loud splash echoed throughout the empty courtyard. I glance back to Nesta, I wink at her before cannonballing my way into the water. I return to the surface, smiling at Feyre. I wave Nesta into the water, and a third splash echoed. We all enjoy floating on our backs, looking up into the stars littering the sky. 

*WHOOSH* 

    The distinct sound of flapping of wings. I hear three pairs of shoes touch down the wooden pier. I can feel the bond flow with relief that quickly follows by irritation from my mate. Seems like he didn’t appreciate having to track across Velaris to find me, drunk and floating in the back part of the Sidra. 

    “What the hell are you guys doing? Get out of there now, please!” Rhy’s silky voice reaches our ears. “We’ve been looking for you for hours!” Cass yells out. We finally sat up right in the water, taking a look at our exhausted mates. 

    “Well you found us!” I shout back. “Come in and join us, look at the stars, just chill for a minute.” I say more quietly which pisses my mate off even more.

     “Get your ass out of the water before I drag you out of there.” Azriel’s voice never going above a shout, but his words are filled with tension nonetheless. 

    “Scared, boys? C’mon Cass, come join me.” Nesta almost purrs to her mate, throwing her soaking bra at his feet. She swims farther away to her right towards a small cluster of rocks. Well, there goes Nesta’s modesty. Looking around to see three clusters of rock, far away enough from us to have privacy but close enough to know what Nesta was thinking. I’m getting fucked in the river tonight.  

    Cassian looks at his brothers and takes off his shirt, Feyre and I start hooting at him to encourage our mates. 

    “Tits out, balls out, brothers.” Cass says as he drops his pants splashing in, swimming towards Nes. That man would follow her anywhere. 

    Azriel looks at me, waiting for me to swim to him. Honestly, I submit to him most of the time. Our dynamic naturally fell into that role. And as much as I love being Az’s good girl, being bad is much more fun. Rhys strips down, jumping and leading a giggling Feyre to a cluster of rocks towards my left. Leaving the middle and the farthest rocks to me, I swim back keeping eye contact with my mate. Every step further away from him, I feel the pulse of the bond pound harder in my chest, daring me to make my next move. I slide the straps of my bra down, his eyes never leaving mine. I take it off, letting my nipples perk up under the water, raising my chest a bit to throw it at him and maybe to tease him. 

    One thing about Azriel is he doesn't like to share and he doesn't like people seeing what’s his. Although his brothers are very much preoccupied with their own mates, I know he’s boiling with jealousy. He speaks through the bond, “Don’t make me come in there, I won’t play nice.” 

    I squeeze my thighs under the water and send a rush of arousal through the bond. 

    “I don't want nice.” I say back, out loud. His wings perk up in challenge before he starts stripping down, his tattoos showing against his beautiful tan skin. I hear him mutter under his breath, “I’m going to regret this.” He slowly sinks in, taking his god damn precious time while my friends are getting some sort of fucked on the the two sides of me. I can’t hear them but can see the tops of their heads from my distance. I hear enough water splashing to know they aren’t innocently playing in the water. 

    He just about reaches me when I jump back laughing loudly. I wasn’t done with this game yet, Azriel and I love the build up almost more than the actual sex. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he loves when I’ve been bad. He loves having an excuse to spank me red, to deny or give my pleasure. He firmly but gently grabs my wrist holding me to his chest and pushes us behind the rocks, ensuring no one can see us. He releases his shadows cocooning our sounds.

     Az leans down his lips touching the shell of my ear, “You’ve been a bad girl, bunny. Not answering me when I called. Running to Amren’s of all places. Just know when I’m done with you here, I won’t be holding back at home.” He kisses my cheek, a sweet gesture as if his words didn’t promise me a world of pain and dizzying pleasure. His hand that practically dwarfs my body,  gently feels up my side. When he reaches my throat his grip tightens pulling my chest flush to his, his lips crashing down on mine. His tongue dominates my mouth, my nipples rubbing against his skin in the most delicious way. This kiss wasn't nice, it was all consuming. It was claiming. My hands run through his hair, pulling him closer to me. I let out a moan as he tongues the hollow of my throat, sinking his teeth on my sweet spot behind my ear. He gives my inner thigh a spank, I yelp out in surprise as he chuckles. I’m already soaked, arousal flooding my senses. My craving for him can only be soothed with him deep inside me. My hand finds his godly cock, stroking him gently, “I want you, please.”

    “Already begging for it and I’ve barely touched you, bunny.” he grunts out, I twist my hands around the head of his cock as he hisses from the sensation. He grabs my hand, twisting my body around while holding both hands behind my back. 

    “I’m doing the touching tonight. You had me worried baby, you know I don’t like being denied. Especially from you.” He presses open mouthed kisses along my spine, I can barely breathe by the time his mouth meets the flesh of my ass, he bites down. Hard. Likely leaving an imprint of his teeth, Illyrians are such territorial babies. He rips my underwear off, tearing it nearly in two. 

    I feel the rock against my cheek, the cold surface cooling my overheated body. Without warning, Az’s tongue sweeps through my arousal. He approves in a grunt, going right back into feast on me. I moan loudly, knowing the shadows are muffling my sounds.  I just now notice his shadows are holding my arms together while Az grabs handfuls of my ass. Water drips down my back into his hair, making all of this so erotic. He switches between pulling my clit gently between his lips to full on lapping at it. He pushes his large finger into me making me push back against his face, he pushes me further into the rocks as he stands, still fucking me with his hand. He grabs a fistful of my hair, his lips on my ear. “Enjoy this, bunny because you won’t be cumming for the rest of the night.” His breath hot against my skin, he added two more fingers stretching me wide to take him later. At this point, I’m moaning shamelessly. 

    “Oh, yes. Fuck yes. Azriel.” I moan out his name, knowing just how riled up my mate gets hearing his name from my lips. He fucks me harder with his fingers, applying the smallest amount of pressure around my throat. His hard chest, flush against my back. It’s weirdly intimate for being in the gods damn river. I can feel the knot building in my stomach, I clench around his fingers and before I can cum he rips his hand away from my sex. I whine in protest. 

    “You’re soaking, bunny.” He says rubbing his almost painfully hard cock between my ass cheeks. He strokes his cock with the hand he pleasured me with, getting ready to absolutely rearrange my guts. I push my hips back, grinding on any part of him I can. “I don't think you want it enough though, you’re gonna have to beg for it. Say you’re sorry, bunny. Tell me how much you want it.” He purrs into my ear. I look over my shoulder, not caring how pathetic I look right now. Bent over a rock with my hands behind my back, whining for him. 

    “Please fuck me, Az. I’m sorry, I really am. Just please fuck me, I need you mate.” I knew pulling the mate card would get Azriel inside me quicker than lightning. And I was right, I could feel the head of his perfect cock push inside me. I moan at the feeling of the first stretch, no matter how many years have passed, I’ll never be tired of this feeling. Az lets out a small moan as he fully sheaths himself inside me. He rests his forehead on the top of my back and lets out another moan as I shift to get used to his size. “Fuuck” he whispers in pleasure. He’s never been one to make a lot of noise at all, so hearing any sound of pleasure from him made everything much more rewarding. He rises again, using one hand to hold my hands, the other around my hip. Promising a bruise the next day. 

    “You ready, bunny?” he asks me, the loving side of Azriel returning for a moment. He kisses my cheek sweetly as I nod, weakly, “Pleeeease…” I moan out. He chuckles as he pulls himself almost all the way out before thrusting hard. I moaned loudly this time. He chooses a harsh pace, barely giving me time to breathe before the next thrust. The water splashes around us, that sound mixed with Azriel’s grunting and hearing just how wet I am every time he thrusts in makes me feel almost embarrassed, almost. If it wasn't for how amazing I felt. I could feel the bond thrumming with lust. I was moaning out Azriel’s name when he slowed down just a bit, enough to slow down my orgasm that so badly wanted to burst. 

    “You look so good, bunny. You feel fucking amazing, this pretty little cunt was made for me.” He made a point to slowly grind into me, letting me hear the mess he was making at the apex of my thighs. The squelching sound made me blush.  “Tell me how good you feel, bunny.” Az requested, then immediately returned to his harsh pace making my words sound jumbled and frantic. 

    “F-fuuck, I-I feel so good, yo-you make me feel good. Keep fucking me, pl-please.” I moan out, I have enough strength to meet his hips snapping into mine, Az lets out a deep groan. He snakes his hand to my clit, giving it the attention I very much desired. I start yelling out his name at the added stimulation. At this point we let our desire control us, fucking into each other like it was the last time we have the chance to. The tension builds in my stomach and I start clenching down on his cock, Az lets out another deep groan. 

    “Yeah, bunny. Come all over my cock, fuck me til you’re hoarse.” He grits through his teeth. I scream out his name like a prayer as my orgasm tears through me, he can feel me cumming around him. I can feel his stomach tightening on my back, he ruts into me moaning my name as he cums inside me. Feeling his hot seed against my walls makes me want to cum again so I moan and push against him selfishly wanting more of him. I always want more. His shadows release my arms and Az turns me around in the water, surprisingly still keeping himself inside me. I wrap my arms around his shoulder, breathing in his scent. I place gentle kisses along his neck while he slows his breathing against my shoulder. He looks up at me after a moment and kisses me fully. His smooth lips taking place on mine, the kind of kiss that makes you dizzy and wanting more. I can't tell you how long we stayed in that position, lazily making out and enjoying each other. 

    “HEY YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE AFTER DARK!” I hear a distant shout, pulling my face off Az’s I scoot closer to him trying to hide my naked body. He slowly pulls out of me chuckling. 

    “I thought you were feeling brave tonight, bunny.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead. I blush, hiding my face in his neck, biting down gently on him for teasing me. He gives me a small spank in return.

    “GET OUT OF THERE NOW!” The sentry yells out to us. I hear Rhys speak up, pushing his body enough to where the guard can see his face. 

    “Hey Felix, uhh look I’ll give you a bonus if you turn around and forget this happened.” The sentry’s eyes widen when he realizes he caught the most important people in his court skinny dipping. I can hear Feyre’s giggle as she peeks her head up. Rhys slowly pushes her down, again proving how possessive our Illyrian babies are. 

    “Yes, my Lord. Good night.” He’s gone before I can even look up again. We all burst out laughing, the absurdity of this night all hitting us. We should get out of here before we traumatize another sentry. I cling onto Azriel as he waddles us through the water towards our clothes. We’re the first to get dressed, Az shielding my body with his wing. When the others start climbing out and dressing Az wraps me in his arms whispering in my ear, “I hope you had fun, my love. Your punishment starts when we get home.” I bite my lip, staring up at him. I hum in agreement, “I can’t wait.” I wink at him, giving him a soft kiss. He returns the kiss with his own, biting my bottom lip. 

    “Alright, brother. Wait til you get home, I’m too tired to witness this.” Rhy says, gesturing for us ladies to walk ahead first. Probably scared we’re gonna run off again. Once we get out into the empty street, the boys grab us and haul ass into the sky. I can’t blame them, we sorta made them chase around Velaris for like three hours. I scream as Az does intricate tricks, once we land at the River House I stumble inside, not used to gravity yet. I am completely sober though so that’s a plus. 

    “Go grab your things, sweetheart. I’ll be waiting in here.” Az says to me passing by to sit on a chair. I rush to grab my bag and meet him back in the sitting room.

         I hear Cass grumble, “I’m getting too old for this shit.” Rubbing Nes’s thighs as she sits on his lap. Love bites litter Cass’s neck. Rhys nods along, holding Feyre’s hand, he looks as if he could fall asleep right there on the couch. Us girls look at each other in annoyance. I speak up, my hand running through Az’s hair, “We keep you young and y’all know it.” He just smirks up at me, pulling himself to stand. Azriel has got plans and he’s trying to get me alone as soon as possible.  

    “Alright, ladies. Next month, same time?” Feyre says, the boys' protests falling on deaf ears. 

    “Maybe we should discuss next month, darling. Before you give me a heart attack.” Rhy says, kissing her hand. Azriel drags me outside, not bothering for goodbyes. I can feel his impatience through the bond. Insteading of flying, he winnows us home. Leading me through our house and to our room. I go to take off my damp clothes, his helpful hands tugging the material down. 

    “Lay on the bed, bunny.” Az commands. A part of me didn’t take his threats earlier seriously but he watches me walk to our bed and lay down. His eyes darken. He looks pointedly at my hands, I lift my arms up letting his shadows twine though, holding me down. The shadows doing the same to ankles and thighs spread me apart. I'm embarrassingly wet again. 

    “You’ve been a bad, bad girl. I’m gonna have to teach you my rules again.” he takes his time undressing, letting the wetness gather between my legs. He kisses my ankles, all the way up to the tops of my thighs. I whimpered as he purposely avoids the area I want him most. 

I whimper out a please, begging for him. 

“You know you’ve been bad, bunny?” 

“Yes, sir.” I moan as he liked my inner thigh. 

“You won’t go out without letting me know?” 

“Yes, sir.” Another lick on the other side. 

“You’ll answer back when I call out to you?” 

“Yes, sir.” I moan again as he brushes his lips against my clit, barely touching me. 

I look down at him, seeing his eyes light up with hunger. He licks his lips, looking at me. 

“Good, then let's begin.” 

-------

TAGLIST:  @azriels-mate123  @blueeclipsepaperstudent  @feyretopia  @percyjacksonspeen @ bubbles-for-all-of-us @ despoinasstuff @ brekkershadowsinger  @ capbuckyfalcon  @ tsibba01 @ elizarikaallen @ azzydaddy  @ weirdo-fun @ lena-davina @ ktmylady @ frawst-disasta @ onlyhereforthelolsss 

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Jersey

Masterlist

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Mike x reader

Summary: Mike thought it would be a good idea to teach you how to skate. It wasn't — so he has to come up with a different plan.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, p-in-v sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected (at least condomless) sex, creampie, and a very needy, desperate, slightly pushy and arrogant Mikey.

Bingo: "Is that my shirt?" (you can find the bingo masterlist here)

A/N: As always, we blame @geralts-yenn for putting the idea of Mike as a hockey player in my brain. Not the field kind, the cold and violent kind. Of course.

It's also the third entry for my @henrycavillbingo card! I know I didn't exactly use the phrase of the prompt — although I did imply it — but a jersey is sort of a shirt, I guess, so it counts :")

Enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @mayloma @summersong69 @livisss @winter2112rose @changenameno @wa-ni (still not allowed to tag you, sorry :( )

“Don’t let go of me!” Who knew ice was slippery? You. You knew. Everyone knew. Yet here you were...

“I won’t let go,” Mike answered with a smile. He was the one who had assured you it would be fine. ‘Skating is fun, Sweetcheeks’ your freezing ass...

“Mike! You just almost dropped me!”

“I didn’t,” he snorted. “You almost fell, that’s not the same thing. Ow! Would you let go of my arm, before it falls off?”

You reluctantly relaxed your grip, panicking when he moved your hands from his upper arms to just below his elbow.

“What, no!” You scrambled to get closer to him.

“Babe, you won’t be able to move like that. Come on. Nothing’s gonna happen!”

“Are you sure you’re okay going backwards?” you asked. Of course, you were hoping he’d say ‘no’ and you could go back inside.

“Sweetcheeks, I’ve been doing this at least twice a week since I was six. If there was a way to skate sideways, I’d be okay doing that.” So, there was really no way around this, then? He really wasn’t going to let you off the hook?

“You said you wouldn’t let me fall!” you said, shoving Mike’s shoulder and pouting up at him. “That hurt!”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Mike mumbled. “Are you okay?”

You rubbed your elbow and nodded. “I’ll live. But I’m fucking cold.”

“Yeah, when you do it right, this is exercise...” Mike said with a grin. “Sweetcheeks, that was just a joke! Come here, please?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this,” you muttered. “I know you love it, I just...”

“Babe, babe, babe, stop.” He put a hand over your mouth. “It’s okay! I thought this would be fun but... I’m clearly not a very good teacher.”

“That’s not true! I’ve seen you coach the little ones! You’re great with them!” You trailed your fingers over his cheek. He didn’t wince at the cool wetness of your glove. “That said, I really don’t think this is my scene.”

“Alright, let’s get you off the ice and in front of the fireplace,” he said, laughing. “Don’t move.”

You stayed still while he got up, and then he pulled you off the freezing surface you were still sitting on.

“My leggings are soaked,” you noted, shivering as Mike pulled you along to the edge of the lake.

“I really didn’t expect you to fall this much, babe,” he chuckled.

“We can’t all be hockey superstars, jerk,” you retorted.

“No, but most people can at least stand upright on skates!”

“I’ll stand upright in the shower, thanks,” you grumbled, “and you are not invited.” Of course, that would have had more impact if you hadn’t encountered the edge of the lake at that precise moment, causing you to lose balance and tumble face-first into the snow.

“Sorry Sweetcheeks,” Mike said, in between fits of hysterical laughter, “but that was... You looked...” He pressed his hands to his side — a well-deserved side stitch if you ever saw one! He didn’t lose his balance for a second. Jackass.

You furiously pulled the laces on the skates but they wouldn’t come off. Why wouldn’t they come off? A cry of frustration escaped you before you could help it, and... Was that a tear? Great.

“Sweetcheeks, are you cr—”

“Only out of frustration,” you snapped before he could ask. “Nothing to do with you.”

Mike helped you up and helped you walk to the rock he’d cleaned off for you when you had arrived. It wasn’t as wet as the pile of snow he’d plucked you out of, but it certainly wasn’t any warmer.

You stayed still while he took your skates off, successfully avoiding any accidents, and watched impatiently while he traded his own skates for his shoes again.

“Can you at least try to hurry?” you said, no longer able to keep your teeth from chattering.

The hot water of the shower was an absolute godsend. You’d stuck to your threat to not invite Mike. He’d have to think of another way to keep you warm — and he would. You already knew what you’d be walking into; you could already feel his hands on your hips, his face buried in your neck, exploring every inch of your skin, eager hands scrambling to grab as much boob as he could manage — arguably not your favorite part but he was cute, so you’d forgive him — and then finally...

You forced yourself out of the shower before you got to the kind of stuff you’d rather have Mike do, and dried off. As you looked around the room, you noticed a jersey hanging from the back of his desk chair. After a quick inspection — it smelled mostly clean — you put it on before making your way downstairs.

A nice fire was waiting for you there, complete with a content-looking, shirtless Mike — admittedly your favorite flavor of Mikey — lounging in front of the fireplace. “Hey, come here, it’s nice and wa—” He stopped talking mid-sentence when he finally looked up at you. “Is that my... Baaaaaaabe... You took my jersey!”

“I did,” you said. “Want it back?”

You watched him shake his head, while he dug deep to find the ability to speak. He still hadn’t managed by the time he rolled over, scrambled to his knees and crawled over to you, grasping the hem of the jersey and pressing his lips to the inside of your knee. And then, finally: “Hot. So fucking hot.” It cost him to speak, even those four little words.

His lips moved up the inside of your leg at a glacial pace — atypical for Mike, to say the least. When he made it about halfway, he seemed suddenly plagued by an epiphany: “You’re not wearing anything else, are you?”

Blue puppy eyes widened even further when you slowly shook your head, and Mike sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down with force. A strangled moan stumbled out of his mouth, and you knew what you’d find if you could see the front of his sweatpants right now.

Then, he was up, slinging you over his shoulder in less than one second, and at least somewhat carefully putting you down again in the nest of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace. His lips found your neck — and so did his tongue and his teeth, his sloppy kiss causing you to arch your back off the ground, arms desperate to grab as much of him as possible. He had other plans, though.

He sat up on his knees between your legs and looked down on you as he planned his next move. Except Mike couldn’t plan. Like, at all... So you let your knees fall to the side and pulled the jersey up so it wasn’t covering you. It was enough to throw him off his game.

He shrugged in a ‘yeah, I could eat’ kind of way and dove face-first between your legs, wasting no time whatsoever. No teasing, no slow start, nothing. Just his eager mouth on your pussy, tongue flat against your clit — just the way you liked it — settling into an easy rhythm that would definitely get you where you needed to be.

A focused, goal-oriented Mikey was a rare sight to behold. In fact, you’d go as far as to say there were two possible scenarios in which he came out to play; on the ice, and between your legs doing exactly what he was doing now. The discussion of the subject had gone about as Mikey-esque as possible. According to him, if he lost focus in these situations, someone would get hurt — you personally felt there was some kind of a difference between a cramped jaw and a shattered kneecap or other serious injuries, but he didn’t see it that way. Not that you were going to complain about it, because focused, goal-oriented Mike got the job done. Quickly.

He moaned — a sexy, sweet little sound — when you grabbed his head, weaving your fingers into his dark curls before clenching them into a tight fist. It wasn’t that he needed the guidance as much as you needed something to hold on to...

“Fuck, Mikey...” He had you on the edge already, but you knew better than to tell him you were close. Any time you’d tried that, it had fried something in his brain and all consistency in his technique had disappeared like snow in July. Not good. So, you’d learned to keep your mouth shut so he could keep that gentle, diligent rhythm intact, until... “Oh god, yes!”

Every muscle in your body tensed and you screwed your eyes shut as he pushed you over the edge. You barely noticed the satisfied little hum that came from him — standard procedure, and nothing compared to the other signs of his elevated sense of self-importance. In other words; the least unbearable part of the cocky attitude that bubbled up whenever you came on his tongue.

You groaned when he threw himself on top of you, probably sort of accidentally crushing you with his full weight, but you forgave him when he kissed you silly, giving you plenty of opportunity to taste yourself on his tongue before he moved on to delivering sloppy kisses to your neck.

“Get on your knees,” he demanded, grabbing your wrists as you reached for the hem of the jersey. “That stays on. Get on your knees and turn around.”

“Do you have—”

“No, I don’t. I need to feel you,” he whined — you almost felt bad for him.

“Mikey...” you warned. If you went there with him, there was no way you were ever turning back.

“Baaaaabe,” he whined again. God, those eyes were killing you. “You know you’re it for me, right? Fuck, you’re wearing my name, my number... You had to know that would drive me at least a little nuts, right? Please, please, please, pretty, pretty please, let me... Just... Please?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, grinding his hips against you.

You’d seen him needy and desperate — of course you had! If you kissed this man’s neck twice at a party and whispered a single even remotely sexual thing in his ear, he’d already be begging to let him take you home. This, however, was next level...

His mouth stopped begging, but his eyes definitely didn’t, and the brutally possessive grasp on your hips didn’t relax either. He wasn’t going to quit until he got what he wanted, that much was obvious. That left only one question: were you going to give it to him?

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not kidding,” he muttered after a few moments. “Come on... Face down, ass up—” You clamped a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence, and as you did so, you realized something.

“You don’t seriously want me from behind because you can look at... Oh my god, that’s why you don’t want me to take this damn jersey off, isn’t it?” ‘Vaguely indignant’ would be an accurate description of your tone. Maybe more than ‘vaguely’.

“Ehhhh...” The sound of a man who had been well and truly fucking busted. “Okay so, out of all the times I’ve looked at you and thought ‘woohoo, she’s mine!’, right now you’re so, so, so the mine-est... My name. My number. My sweet, perfect, wet little pussy. Okay? Mine.” He dragged you down to the floor, where he latched his mouth onto your neck again, this time with so much tongue that you begged him to stop. “Only if you let me fuck my pretty girl from behind!”

“That’s blackmail!” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yup! Now surrender!” He grabbed your boob with one hand and tickled your side with the other before reaching between your legs. “Come on, you’re soaking wet and I know you need me as much as I need you, so... Let me bone you already!”

“I have one demand!” you said, wiping the tears off your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. No one could make you laugh like your professional idiot.

“Hey, we’re negotiating! That’s progress!” he teased, pinching your nipple through the fabric of the jersey.

“I get to be on top, first,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at Mike, who didn’t see, because he had his face buried in your neck.

“Deal!” He snapped his head up, almost head-butting you in the nose. “Sorry! But yeah, deal, deal, deal! Fucking deal!” He scrambled to his knees and got comfortable in front of the couch, leaning his back against it and reaching his arms out towards you. “Here! Get over here, now!”

You crawled towards him, slowly, giving him your best fuck-me eyes as you let your hands slide up his legs — agonizingly slowly, of course — and hooked his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. “You want me, baby?”

The sweetest whimpers escaped him when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, but they turned into pitiful whines when you leaned forward. “No, I don’t want you to suck my cock!” Words you thought you’d never hear from this guy... “I need you to turn around and fucking sit. On. It.”

“Beg for it one more time, baby, please?” you asked sweetly. “You’re so cute when you beg for my pussy.”

“My pussy,” he teased. “Please, please, please, please, please come here and ride me.”

You paused for a moment, locking eyes with him, taunting him as you decided whether or not that was good enough, and quickly coming to the conclusion that he hadn’t been wrong when he said you needed him, too. So, you turned around, revelling in the sounds of eager anticipation from Mike as you moved to where he wanted you. Seconds later, you felt his tip at your entrance, and you knew the time for teasing was over.

“Fuck,” he said, twice, three times... You lost count, what with being a little too busy relishing the feeling of his skin on yours for the first time since you’d met him.

“Good?” Stupid question...

“You’re killing me, Sweetcheeks,” he moaned, clenching his fists tightly around the bunched up fabric of the jersey at your hips.

You moved slowly, knowing he would go absolutely crazy over it, and it wasn’t long before he was begging you for more. As far as you were concerned, he could forget about that, but he had other plans. He pushed you forward and quickly wormed his way out from under you, getting on his knees behind you, hurrying to get back inside.

“Can’t do this, Sweetcheeks,” he huffed, adorably out of breath. “Show up like this and then tease me. It’s not fair. Bad girl!” He playfully smacked your ass.

“Don’t act like you hate it,” you said as you reached for a pillow — playtime was over, and you were going to need one to scream in.

Lo and behold, he didn’t even pretend to hold back on the first thrust, much less any of the ones that followed, and you were left crying and moaning into that pillow as he railed you into the next century. You could tell from his breathing and his soft swearing that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Babe, can I— oh fuck...” This idiot. The answer would have been ‘yes’, but still... “Please tell me I’m not gonna be a dad...”

“I figured it would be better to see if you’d grow up first,” you laughed as he pulled out and lay down next to you with a hopelessly adorable concerned look on his face. Slowly, a smile broke through as you assured him it was okay.

You snuggled into his side, and he pulled a blanket over the both of you. “Hey, Sweetcheeks,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sighed.

He pulled on the jersey to get you as close to him as possible. “And you’re so totally wearing this to my next game.”

[sebastianswallows]

Beautiful memories — Chapter 3

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (aged up)

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is sentenced to Azkaban for six months. When he is released, he finds MC is expecting a child, and is filled with anger and jealousy and confusion. He just doesn't know the child is his yet.

— WARNINGS: fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, fingering, frottage, breeding kink, praise kink, needy!Seb, good boy!Seb, and a lot of love confessions

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— A/N: The third and last chapter of the fic requested by my dear @pugsnotdrugs92 💕 It was a lot of fun writing this, and it might be my first time writing pregnancy sex? 😳 Or I just don't remember, I don't know, it's very late. Anyway, the prompt requested smut, so here you have it. Seb is extra careful and gentle in this 👉👈 Hope you enjoy, my dears! 😘

— TAGGING: @rbdiggory @sammysgirl1997 @bellstwd

They retreated into the bedroom for the evening, a small and narrow chamber with a bed enchanted to just about fit the both of them. She offered to arrange something else, but Sebastian wouldn’t have it.

“As long as you’re comfortable,” he said, his arms circling her swollen middle, “I’m comfortable.”

“You might eat those words later,” she laughed.

“Oh yes, I wouldn’t want that,” he purred, “I’d rather eat something else.”

“Seb!”

“Chocolate, I meant chocolate,” he said smoothly as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

“Of course you did,” she grinned.

“Well... you are rather appetizing,” Sebastian whispered. His fingers trailed gently along her hips and stomach as he smiled lovingly at her. “I think I'll have to have a taste, actually,” he said, lips softly pressed against the base of her neck, then moving up towards her ear to give her a playful nibble. “Is that alright, darling?”

She breathed out a long, happy, murmuring sigh, melting in his arms as they walked slowly together closer and closer to the bed. She'd dreamed about this for so long and sometimes feared she'd never even have his arms around her again. But her dreams had come true and her Sebastian was back, and even if he was a little worse for wear he was wholly himself: sweet, playful, and devastating. She turned her head toward him and nodded, tucking herself deeper into his arms.

By now, the edge of the bed was at her knees. He set her down gently on the mattress.

“How about we change you out of these stiff clothes first,” he smiled. “Where's your nightgown, my sweet?”

“There,” she pointed, “in the chest of drawers.”

Sebastian took his time undressing her, picking the heavy gown apart layer by layer and setting it aside, much like she'd done earlier for him. and all the while he looked into her eyes.

As he helped her out of her clothes, he gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

“You look gorgeous in whatever you wear, darling,” he grinned as he pulled away. “But the nightgown is definitely my favourite.”

Her skin shivered with excitement at his every glance and touch and kiss, and she found she ached to have him close again. As soon as he was done dressing her for the night, she raised her hands to him and moved up the bed, inviting him to lay down with her.

“I thought you had another favourite,” she smiled cheekily, “but I'm a little too cold tonight for that.”

Sebastian chuckled and followed her, lifting the duvet for her to snuggle beneath before slipping in behind her. “I'll do my best to keep you warm, then,” he whispered.

“Good,” she said, closing her eyes in pleasure. “I love it when you hold me…”

“Hmmm, but I think I have one other way to warm you...” Sebastian smirked, wrapping his arm around her waist and caressingly trailing his hand down her stomach.

She inhaled sharply.

“Shhh, not like that,” he whispered. This was a delicate time for a woman, he knew that much, and he didn’t intend to do anything too dangerous for her — he’d die before he hurt her. “Just something very gentle, alright?” he said while his hand tucked her nightgown upwards and trailed up the skin of her thigh.

“Alright,” she said in a small voice.

“Very gentle,” he repeated solemnly with a kiss to her temple.

He kissed lower, down her cheek, then kissed the length of her jaw, and then his lips fell onto hers, this time with a greater passion and longing than before. Moving carefully, he pressed himself up against her from behind.

“That's all we'll do for a while,” he muttered, his hand resting over her stomach. “This is all I've wanted for so long… To hold you close like this. To simply live together.”

“I know,” she said with a tense smile, feeling on the verge of tears. “That’s all I’ve wanted too… I missed you so much, you can’t imagine…”

“I can,” he said, his eyes closed and his lips just on the surface of her skin. His left hand trailed up and down the swell of her stomach, teasing her by coming closer to her core. “I was so terrified I’d never get to see you again…”

Her hand went up to where his right one lay above her on the pillow and grasped it tightly. “It’s over now,” she said. “It’s over, forever. You’re here now with me, you’re safe.”

Sebastian sighed and kissed her neck again, her jaw, her chin, her cheek, and finally her sweet and gentle lips. His were dry and thinner than before, but he could still make her feel all the love he had for her. He ran his hands down her skin as he kissed her with all the passion and desire he possessed.

“You're mine,” he whispered to her, his lips touching hers in a long, loving kiss. “And I'm yours. I will love you until the end of time.”

“Until the end,” she whispered back, her head turned toward him. She leaned up and kissed him, smiling at the taste of chocolate that lingered on his lips.

Beneath, his hand cupped the bottom of her tummy, the broad warm palm heating her up.

“That feels nice,” she smiled, her eyes lazily looking up at him through the dark.

“Well, I can think of something that will feel even better,” he teased.

“Can you?” she asked, a smile growing on her lips until it burst into a giggle and she hid her face in the crook of her arm. “Show me,” she said, looking up at him again.

It was all the invitation Sebastian needed. His fingers slid lower, his knees spread her legs, and with her upper thigh supported on top of his, he touched her at her core.

“Aahh…” she gasped, her head instantly leaning back against him.

The skin was a little rough, but his fingers were still as thick and skilled as she remembered.

“Shhh, there we are,” he whispered, looking at her blushing face with his lips so close to hers.

He remembered bits and pieces of that night they had together, and with the greatest care, he explored her further. She was so warm and wet, getting wetter as he spread her, leaking out of her clenching hole and dripping down her skin.

“Oh, do you hear that?” he chuckled as his fingers began to slosh through the dampness between her folds. “You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

“How could I not?” she moaned. “To see your body again, to touch you, to feel you… But it broke my heart, too,” she sighed, her voice trembling, “to see you so hurt after —”

“No, none of that,” he said, leaning in to kiss her lips again. “I’m alright, see? You’ve mended everything, you’ve made me better… Like you always have.”

“Seb…”

“You’ve always been so good to me, my sweetheart, my love, my darling,” he sighed. “Let me be good to you now…”

He continued to gently massage her, tending to her in teasing circles. His middle finger tickled her nub, rubbing her own essence into it before going back down for more.

“Does that feel alright?” he murmured lovingly, his head resting on her shoulder. “Tell me if you want me to... give you a little more...”

She bit her lip and nodded, her hands going to her side of the bed and gripping the sheets in an attempt to centre herself.

He pleasured her nub a little more, then his hand stopped its motions. Behind her, she felt Sebastian undo the front of his trousers, and then she felt his hands at the front of her nightgown. When she opened her eyes, she saw him part the front of her gown to free her left breast.

She barely felt the cold of the room before his mouth descended on her, covering as much of it as he could at once. She moaned and arched her back, letting him feed on more of her flesh while he suckled on her. Between them, his hand gently pulled his manhood out. She whined when she felt it against her rear.

“Shall I take care of you, darling?” he asked with a smile against her breast, her tip right between his teeth. “Give you what you need?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, “please…”

Sebastian chuckled and sucked her deeper into his mouth, nursing on her puckered bud while he worked to slot his manhood in between her thighs. She gasped and jumped at feeling his tip, so hot and thick and dripping wet.

“Mmmm there we go,” he groaned as he finally tucked his length between her thighs. It rested right between her folds. “You like that?”

“Y-yes,” she whispered, back arched, heart beating frantically.

His warm breath fanned against her skin as he trailed kisses up from her breast to her neck and the little hollow beneath her ear.

“Is this alright?” he asked, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. It was a question he probably knew the answer to, but he wanted to be sure. “I can stop if you want me to,” he told her lovingly.

“No,” she pouted, shaking her head. “It’s good, it’s…”

“Is it just what you wanted?” he cooed.

She moaned and nodded for him.

“My good girl,” he sighed, “my darling…”

Sebastian buried his face in her neck, smiling against her skin, while his left hand went up to cup her naked breast and his right one stroked her hair. Very gently, he began to cant his hips, moving his length against her.

“Aaah, Seb…” she moaned.

“Good?”

“So good…”

He kissed her again and kept going, moving just as softly, just as carefully. He pawed lightly at her breast, mostly just letting its weight rest in it, moving it enough to harden her bud again. Between her legs, he felt her folds drip all over him, and he thrust until he was flush with her body. His tip peeked on the other side of her thighs, the hot and blushing head sitting right beneath her nub. At her back, his sac was pressed between his closed thighs and her rear.

She moaned and gripped the bedding in front of her with both hands, leaning forward slightly, parting her torso from him but keeping her hips right there, against his. Sebastian’s body followed, covering her without putting too much pressure on her, just to let her know he was right there with her, all the while keeping hold of her breast, fondling it, teasing it with a pluck of her sensitised tip before soothing it with his big hand again.

“You're doing so well,” he praised her with a whisper, his eyes half closed in a contented smile. “I couldn't ask for a sweeter woman.”

She whimpered, pleasured by everything he was doing, his whole presence working to make her feel good. She knew she couldn’t take him inside, where she wanted him, so she tightened her thighs around his length, working her muscles until she felt him shiver and breathe in through his teeth. Her thighs were getting wetter as his leaking tip dripped right against her core, spreading their combined juices whenever he thrusts back and forth.

“I love you,” he groaned, “so, so, so, so much.”

“I love you too,” she said, turning her head to look at him. His brown eyes had never looked sweeter. “Sebastian, my Sebastian, all mine…”

“All yours,” he nodded. “Forever.”

“I’ll never let you go again…”

“That’s right, my love. I belong to you, don’t I?”

She nodded, her loving gaze trapped in his.

“I’m not to go anywhere without your approval, am I?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

He smiled and nuzzled her neck again, smiling with pleasure into her sweaty skin. Gingerly, his hand left her breast and travelled down, beneath the covers, toward her core.

“Tell me you love me again,” he begged.

“I love you,” she said.

His fingers trailed the swell of her stomach teasingly slow as his hips thrust in their steady and relentless rhythm against her plumping gash.

“Am I yours?”

“Mine, all mine.”

“Tell me I’m your good boy…”

“You are,” she smiled, biting her lip as she looked up at him in a drowsy, lust-drunk gaze. “You’re my good boy, Seb.”

He groaned and licked his lips at that, and through the dark, she could just about see a blush grow on his freckled cheeks. Her back arched to push her hips against him possessively.

His fingers were at her womanhood. He relentlessly teased her nub, and every time his head peeked out, he teased himself as well. After one long, full thrust, he rested there, letting her juices drip on his sac while he played with his tip and her pearl all at once, strumming them together.

“Aaah… aaahh,” Sebastian gasped with a dumb and happy smile, his whole body shaking.

Her words had sent a shudder through his body. The simple statement that she claimed him filled him with such a warm, loving feeling that he thought his heart would burst. He just about closed his eyes, but he wanted to keep looking at her. He could feel an orgasm building up in the bottom of his stomach, and with his last bit of strength, he leaned down to peck her lips again.

“We're going to be a family,” he murmured between soft, delicate kisses. “I can’t wait for you to have our child… And then I can put another in you. Would you like that?” he asked as he smiled down at her, his hips starting to thrust faster.

“S-seb,” she moaned, “yes… yes, so much…”

“You want that?” he breathed, leaning down to tease her with the promise of more kisses. “Want me to stuff you full again?”

“Yes, please,” she cried, clinging to the bed harder, her eyes tearing up with desire.

Her legs tightened more strongly, trapping his length, but he thrust through it. His manhood caressed her swollen folds, pleasuring her, making her drip so much it sprinkled against his thighs with each pump of his hips.

“You want that?” he whispered, his gaze holding hers. “Want me to breed you again?”

“Yes, I want it, I’ve always wanted it,” she cried, and her head tilted back in a sudden rush of pleasure. Her cheeks warmed in a violent blush and she moaned loudly against his mouth. “Sebastian!”

He kissed her. His hand left her womanhood to cup the swell of her stomach. Against his throbbing length, he felt her womanhood pulse and a new rush of wetness leaked out as her body surrendered and shuddered in orgasm.

He moaned into her mouth as he felt his cock twitch upwards violently, yearning for her, aiming for her hole just out of reach before finally releasing its spill. He kept kissing her, both of them whining and breathless, while his length pulsed and poured and poured out the lust he had for her. When it was almost over he pulled back a little, just enough to paint her thighs white. His muscles tensed and relaxed in afterpleasure, and like a wave on a soft shore, he slowly thrust forward, pleasuring himself in his own slick.

“Love you,” he gasped when he finally released her mouth. “I love you so much…”

“I love you too,” she whispered, reaching up to catch his lips in another little kiss. “Sebastian…”

He felt her relax in his arms. Her body lost the arching tension, her heartbeat slowed, and her thighs gradually lost their grip against his shaft. By the time he pulled away, they both were filthy, sweaty and soaked.

Sebastian let her body rest back, soft and sleepy, on the bed while he got up to look for a cloth to clean her with. He found one in the second drawer of her bedside table.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured as he joined her on the bed again, careful not to move her too much. His eyes shone with fresh delight at the very sight of her silhouette in the dark. “You look so lovely when you’re pleased and sleepy...”

She smiled at the sound of his voice, but her eyes stayed closed. He leaned down to kiss her again and gently pushed back her hair. His lips rested on her forehead and he sighed contentedly.

“I’m so lucky to have you... To be with you,” he whispered.

Sebastian gently cleaned her thighs, her hips, and then his own loins. After he was done, he got up and disposed of the cloth in the bathroom sink. He returned to find her curled up and facing him, folded to the side to make room. He smiled and lay down on the bed, in her arms, and tucked them both in. As soon as he was within her reach, before he even lay down properly, she wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m so happy you’re here again,” she sighed, kissing him with the last bit of energy she had.

Sebastian gave her lips a light peck and tied her nightgown up again, then tucked her head beneath his shoulder. “As am I,” he quietly said.

In a slow and lazy motion, she wrapped herself around him. Her arms and legs covered him like a second blanket while his went underneath and held her. If the room was cold anymore, neither of them felt it. She was sure that she had never been happier before in her life.

“Welcome back home,” she whispered against his chest with a proud and pleased smile.

“Home is in your arms, sweetheart,” he said as his thumb caressed her shoulder. “Go to sleep, now… I’ll be right here in the morning.”

They fell asleep clinging to each other, resting on each other’s bodies, and the happiness and safety that they felt together drowned out every other thought or feeling. They were truly home.

[whentherewerebicycles]

somehow it’s noon already!! but it’s been a productive morning. in my earlier research i’d been so focused on their first-gen numbers i somehow missed or didn’t fully register the fact that fully 40% of this school’s incoming students each year are transfer students from two-year colleges, which is obviously !!! a specific student population with unique needs that i should be prepared to address in whatever presentation i put together! so i did some initial research and reading in the secondary literature + then also reached out to two former advisees who transferred from community colleges and always had a lot to say about the types of support structures they wished they’d had. they were v happy to help so i set up calls with them tomorrow and on wednesday so i can pick their brains on how to effectively engage & support transfer students in undergraduate research. i made a promise to myself earlier in the week that i would only do rabbithole-style research if it felt like the topics would’ve been fascinating to me even if i didn’t have this interview, but i actually DO find this question super interesting and it’s also a fun excuse to reconnect with former students i haven’t caught up with in a while.

also man i just feel really happy and so much more like myself when i’m in this mode. my brain is WORKING again! i’m overflowing again with thoughts and ideas! i do think that trying a job outside of academia was a valuable life experience for me... and i do realize that this particular job is not representative of ALL non-academic jobs (if i didn’t have such a difficult manager i might’ve been able to stick it out here a lot longer). but also: i feel like you gotta pay attention to what energizes you vs. drains you in this life! and i am so energized by teaching, mentoring, program design, and doing any kind of research on those topics. i also feel my heart LEAPING at the thought of being immersed in a university community again. it’s funny because i get all the petty academic politics stories from macky and i knoooow how difficult & prickly & impossible academics can be but idk! as far as lightly dysfunctional work environments go, i find this form of dysfunction familiar and comforting! and i feel like the joy of working with students is sufficient recompense for the at-times harrowing experience of working with other academics lol. i’m just ready to be back in a place that i love and i’m really excited about this school in particular.

i was rereading the job posting earlier this week and thinking about how much more work it’s going to be than my current barely-anything job, which i know will probably cut into my loooong leisurely walks and my hours-long cooking sessions and my ability to lie around in bed for hours every day. it’s been nice in some ways to have so much time to do non-work things and to really get myself into good routines with cooking/exercising/etc, but i just DO NOT THRIVE when i have too much unstructured time and i am really, really starved for the casual friendly daily social contact i got from my old job. i feel like too much unstructured time = more time wasted because the time doesn’t feel valuable to me.

and idk i need people time! i need relationships with others! i need it both in a social energy and in an intellectual way... like, my conversations with students and the interpersonal conflicts you have to navigate and the unexpected things that come up in a teaching/mentoring relationship provide so much grist for the ol’ reflective mill. i feel like part of the reason i’ve felt sooooo bored and so annoyingly self-absorbed the past six or seven months is that i just don’t have enough INPUT you know?? i need all those interactions to spark new ways of thinking about something or new ideas or new interests to research. otherwise i’m just stuck in my own head, endlessly turning over my small cares and petty little resentments, without anything to challenge me or push me out of myself or force me to recalibrate the way i’m viewing a situation. anyway idk it’s all good data! as i am always telling students even bad or meh experiences can teach you something useful about who you are & what you need to thrive!!

[96harmony96]

Chapter 9

I hurried through the security turnstiles of the Crossfire and grinned when I saw Cary waiting for me in the lobby.

“Hey, you,” I greeted him, admiring how he managed to make worn jeans and a V-neck T-shirt look expensive.

“Hey, stranger.” He held out his hand to me and we stepped out of the building through the side door hand-in-hand. “You’re looking happy.”

The noonday heat hit me like a physical barrier. “Ugh. It’s hot as hell. Let’s pick somewhere close. You up for tacos?”

“Hell yeah.”

I took him to the little Mexican place Megumi had introduced me to and tried not to let him see how guilty his greeting made me feel. I hadn’t been home in a couple of days and Lauren was planning a weekend trip away, which meant it would be another few days before I hung out with Cary again. It had been a relief when he’d agreed to meet me for lunch. I didn’t want to go too long without checking in with him and making sure he was all right.

“Got any plans tonight?” I asked, after ordering for both of us.

“One of the photographers I’ve worked with is having a birthday bash tonight. I figured I’d pop in for a bit and see how it goes.” He rocked back on his heels as we waited for our tacos and blended virgin margaritas. “You still planning on hanging with your boss’s sister? You guys wanna come with?”

“Sister-in-law,” I corrected. “And she’s got concert tickets. I’m her last hope, she said, but even if I wasn’t, I think it’ll be fun. At least I hope so. I’ve never heard of the band, so I’m just hoping they don’t suck.”

“Who is it?”

“Six-Ninths. Know ’em?”

His eyes widened. “Six-Ninths? Really? They’re good. You’ll like them.”

I grabbed our drinks off the counter and left the tray with our plates for him to carry. “You’ve heard of them and Shawna’s a big fan. Where have I been?”

“Under Jauregui and her hard place. You taking her with you?”

“Yes.” I hurried to grab a table as two businessmen stood to leave. I didn’t tell Cary about Lauren’s assertion that I couldn’t go without her. I knew that wouldn’t go over well with Cary, which made me wonder why I’d let it go as easily as I did. Usually Cary and I agreed about stuff like that.

“Can’t see Jauregui liking alt rock.” Cary sank fluidly into the chair across from me. “Does she know how much you like it? Especially the musicians who play it?”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “I can’t believe you brought that up. Ancient history.”

“So? Brett was hot. Ever think about him?”

“With shame.” I picked up one of the carne asada tacos. “So I try not to.”

“He was a decent guy,” Cary said, before slurping up a hefty swallow of margarita-flavored slush.

“I’m not saying he wasn’t. He just wasn’t good for me.” Just thinking about that time in my life made me want to squirm in embarrassment. Brett Kline was hot and he had a voice that made me wet just hearing it, but he was also one of the prime examples of an unfortunate choice in my previously sordid love life. “Moving on . . . You talk to Trey lately?”

Cary’s smile faded. “This morning.”

I waited patiently.

Finally, he sighed. “I miss him. Miss talking to him. He’s so fucking smart, you know? Like you. He’s going to that party with me tonight.”

“As friends? Or as a date?”

“These are really good.” He chewed a bite of one of his tacos before replying. “We’re supposed to be going as friends, but you know I’ll probably screw that up and fuck him. I asked him to meet me there and to head home from there so we’re not alone, but I can always bang him in the bathroom or a goddamn maintenance closet. I have no willpower and he can’t say no to me.”

My heart hurt at his dejected tone.

“I know what that’s like,” I reminded him softly. That’d been me once. I’d been so desperate to feel connected with somebody. “Why don’t you . . . you know . . . take care of it beforehand. Maybe that’ll help.”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across his handsome face. “Can I get you to record that for my voicemail message?”

I threw my wadded-up napkin at him.

He caught it with a laugh. “You can be such a prude sometimes. I love it.”

“I love you. And I want you to be happy.”

Lifting my hand to his lips, he kissed the back. “I’m working on it, baby girl.”

“I’m here if you need me, even if I’m not home.”

“I know.” He squeezed my hand before releasing it.

“I’ll be around a lot next week. Gotta get ready for my dad’s visit.” I bit into a taco and my feet did a little happy tap dance at how delicious it was. “I wanted to ask you about Friday. I’ve got to work, so if you’re around, would you keep an eye on him? I’ll stock up on the food he likes and leave him some city maps, but—”

“No problem.” Cary winked at a pretty blonde as she walked by. “He’ll be in good hands.”

“Want to see a show with us while he’s in town?”

“Camila honey, I’m always game to hang with you. Just let me know where and when, and I’ll keep things clear as much as possible.”

“Oh!” I quickly chewed and swallowed. “Mom told me she saw your pretty mug on the side of a bus the other day.”

He grinned. “I know. She forwarded a pic she’d taken with her phone. Awesome, right?”

“Beyond. We’ll need to celebrate,” I said, stealing his signature line.

“Hell yeah.”

* * *

 “Whoa!” Shawna paused on the sidewalk outside her Brooklyn apartment complex and gaped at the limousine idling in the street. “You went all out.”

“Not me,” I said dryly, checking out her tight red shorts and strategically slashed Six-Ninths screened T-shirt. Her bright hair had been pulled up and teased, and her lips were painted to match her shorts. She looked hot and ready to party, and I felt vindicated in my clothing choice of ultra-short black leather pleated skirt, fitted white ribbed tank top, and cherry red sixteen-eye Doc Martens.

Lauren, who’d had her back to us while talking to Angus, turned to face us, and I found myself as dumbstruck now as I’d been when I first saw her after she had showered and changed. She wore loose-fitting black jeans and a plain black T-shirt with heavy black boots and somehow made the severely casual combination look so fucking sexy, I wanted to jump her bones. As Dark and Dangerous as she was in a pantsuit, she was even more so when ready to rock. She looked younger and every bit as mouthwateringly gorgeous.

“Holy shit, tell me that’s for me,” Shawna whispered, gripping my wrist like a vise.

“Hey, you’ve got your own. That one’s mine.” And it gave me a huge thrill to say so. Mine to claim, to touch, to kiss. And later on, to fuck to exhaustion. Oh yeah . . .

She laughed when I rocked onto my tiptoes in anticipation. “All right. I’ll settle for an introduction.”

I did the honors, then waited for her to hop into the limo first. I was about to climb in after her when I felt Lauren’s hand slide up beneath my skirt to squeeze my butt.

She pressed against my back and whispered in my ear, “Make sure I’m standing behind you when you bend over, angel, or I’ll be spanking this pretty ass.”

Turning my head, I leaned my cheek against hers. “My period’s over.”

She growled, her fingertips biting into the flesh of my hip. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“Delayed gratification, ace,” I told her, using a phrase she’d once tormented me with. I was laughing at her curse when I dropped onto the bench seat beside Shawna.

Angus slid behind the wheel and we headed out, breaking into a bottle of Armand de Brignac on the way. By the time we pulled up to Tableau One, a hot new fusion bistro that had a healthy line out front and energetic music pouring out onto the street, the combination of the champagne and Lauren’s hot gaze on the nearly indecent hemline of my skirt had me feeling giddy.

Shawna slid forward on the seat and stared wide-eyed through the tinted windows. “Doug tried to get us in here before he left, but the waiting list is two months long. You can walk up, but the wait can be hours and there’s no guarantee you’ll be seated.”

The limo door opened and Angus helped her out, then me. Lauren joined us, taking my arm as if we were dressed for a gala and not a rock concert. We were escorted inside so quickly, with the manager being so gushy and welcoming, that I looked at Lauren and mouthed, One of yours?

“Yes, in partnership.”

I just sighed, reconciled to the inevitable. “Is your friend going to meet us for dinner?”

Lauren gestured with an easy nod of her chin. “He’s already here.”

I followed her gaze to an attractive man sporting blue jeans and a Six-Ninths T-shirt. The gentleman was acting as the focal point in a photo op with two pretty women on each side. He smiled wide for the person wielding a smartphone camera, then waved at Lauren and excused himself.

“Oh my God.” Shawna bounced on her feet. “That’s Arnoldo Ricci! He owns this place. And he’s got a show on the Food Network!”

Lauren released me to clasp hands with Arnoldo and engage in the backslapping ritual of close friends. “Arnoldo, my girlfriend, Camila Camila.”

I extended my hand and Arnoldo grabbed it, pulled me closer, and kissed me straight on the mouth.

“Back off,” Lauren snapped, tugging me behind her.

Arnoldo grinned, his dark eyes flashing with humor. “And who’s this vision?” he asked, turning to Shawna and lifting her hand to his lips.

“Shawna, this will be your escort, Arnoldo Ricci, if he manages to survive dinner.” Lauren shot her friend a warning look. “Arnoldo, Shawna Ellison.”

She practically glowed. “My boyfriend’s a huge fan of yours. I am, too. He made your lasagna recipe once and it was. To. Die. For.”

“Lauren told me your man is in Sicily now.” Arnoldo’s voice was flavored with a delicious accent. “I hope you can make the time to visit with him there.”

My gaze darted to Lauren, knowing damn well I’d never given her that much information about Shawna’s boyfriend. She glanced down at me with a look of mock innocence and an almost imperceptible smirk.

I shook my head, exasperated, but I couldn’t deny that this would be a night Shawna would never forget.

The next hour passed in a blur of excellent food and fine wine. I was polishing off an extraordinary zabaione with raspberries when I caught Arnoldo watching me with a wide smile.

“Bellissima,” he praised. “Always a joy to see a woman with a healthy appetite.”

I flushed, slightly embarrassed. I couldn’t help it; I loved food.

Lauren draped her arm along the back of my chair and toyed with the hair at my nape. Her other hand lifted a glass of red wine to her mouth and when she licked her lips, I knew she was thinking about tasting me instead. Her desire was charging the air between us. I had been falling under its spell all through dinner.

Reaching beneath the tablecloth, I cupped her cock through her jeans and squeezed. She went from semihard to stone instantly but gave no other outward indication of her arousal.

I couldn’t help but see that as a challenge.

I began to stroke the rigid length of her with my fingers, careful to keep my movements slow and easy to prevent detection. To my delight, Lauren continued her conversation without a hitch in her voice or change of expression. Her control excited me, made me bolder. I reached for her button fly, turned on by the thought of releasing her and stroking her skin on skin.

Lauren took another leisurely sip, then set her wineglass down.

“Only you, Arnoldo,” she said dryly in response to something her friend had said.

My wrist was caught just as I tugged at the top button of her jeans. She lifted my hand to her lips, the gesture appearing to be an absentminded show of affection. The quick nip of her teeth into the pad of my finger caught me by surprise and made me gasp.

Arnoldo smiled; it was the knowing and slightly mocking smile one bachelor gave to another who’d been caught by a woman. He said something in Italian. Lauren replied, her pronunciation sounding fluid and sexy, her tone wry. Arnoldo threw his dark head back and laughed.

I squirmed in my seat. I loved seeing Lauren like this, relaxed and enjoying herself.

She looked at my empty dessert plate, then at me. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yes.” I was dying to see how the rest of the night would go, how many more sides of Lauren I’d get to discover. Because I loved this side of the woman as much as I loved the powerful businesswoman in the suit and the dominant lover in my bed and the broken child who couldn’t hide her tears and the tender partner who held me when I cried.

She was so complex and still a huge mystery to me. I’d barely scratched the surface of who she was. Which didn’t stop me from being in too deep.

* * *

 “These guys are good!” Shawna yelled as the opening act barreled headlong into their fifth song.

We’d left our seats after the third, working our way through a writhing crowd to the railing that divided the seating area from the mosh pit in front of the stage. Lauren surrounded me, her arms caging me on both sides, her hands gripping the rail. The audience pressed in around us, collectively pushing forward, but I was cushioned from it by her body, just as Shawna was by Arnoldo beside us.

I was sure Lauren could have gotten us way better seats, but I didn’t have to tell her that the way Shawna had scored her fan-only tickets and the fact that she’d invited us meant her seats were our only option. I loved her for understanding that and for going with the flow.

Turning my head, I looked at her. “Is this band with Vidal, too?”

“No. But I like them.”

I was stoked that she was enjoying the show. Lifting my arms in the air, I screamed, feeling pumped by the energy of the crowd and the driving beat. I danced within the circle of Lauren’s arms, my body drenched in sweat, my blood raging.

When the act was done, the stagehands quickly set to work breaking down the equipment and setting up for Six-Ninths. Grateful for the evening, for the joy, for the awesomeness of going wild with the woman I loved, I turned and threw my arms around Lauren’s neck, mashing my lips to hers.

She lifted me and urged my legs around her waist, kissing me violently. She was hard and pressing against me, luring me to grind into her. Around us people whistled and catcalled things that ranged from “Get a room” to “Fuck her, man!” but I didn’t care and neither did Lauren, who seemed as swept away by the sensual craziness as I was. Her hand on my buttocks rocked me into her erection while the other fisted in my hair, holding me where she wanted me as she kissed me as if she couldn’t stop, as if she were starving for the taste of me.

Our open mouths slid desperately across each other. She tongued me deep and fast, fucking my mouth, making love to it. I drank her in, licking and tasting, moaning at her insatiable need. She sucked on my tongue, the circle of her lips sliding along it. It was too much. I was slick and aching for her cock, nearly frantic with the need to feel her filling me.

“You’re going to make me come,” she growled, before tugging on my bottom lip with her teeth.

I was so into her and the ferocity of her passion for me that I barely registered when Six-Ninths started. It wasn’t until the vocals kicked in that I was jolted back to where I was.

I stiffened, my mind clawing its way up through the fog of desire to process what I was hearing. I knew the song. My eyes opened as Lauren pulled back. Over her shoulder I saw handwritten signs held up in the air.

BRETT KLINE IS MINE! And BANG ME, BRETT! And my personal favorite, BRETT, I’D HIT IT WITH YOU LIKE THE WRATH OF GOD!!!

Hell. What were the chances?

And Cary had known, of course. He’d known and hadn’t warned me. Probably thought it’d be hysterical for me to find out by accident instead.

My legs loosened from around Lauren’s hips and she set me down, protecting me from the frenzied fans with the shield of her body. I turned to face the stage, feeling a mad fluttering in my belly. Sure enough, it was Brett Kline at the mic, his deep, powerful, sexy-as-hell voice pouring over the thousands who’d come to see him in action. His short hair was spiked and tipped with platinum, his lean body clothed in olive cargo pants and a black tank top. It was impossible to see from where I was, but I knew his eyes were a brilliant emerald green, his face was ruggedly handsome, and his killer smile revealed a dimple that drove women crazy.

Tearing my eyes away from him, I looked at the other band members, recognizing all of them. They hadn’t been called Six-Ninths back in San Diego, though. They’d been called Captive Soul then, and I wondered what had led to the name change.

“Good, aren’t they?” Lauren asked with her mouth to my ear so I could hear her. She had one hand on the railing and the other around my waist, keeping me pulled up tight against her as she moved to the music. The combination of her body and Brett’s voice did insane things to my already raging sex drive.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the woman behind me and the unique rush I’d always felt while listening to Brett sing. The music throbbed through my veins, bringing back memories—some good and some bad. I swayed in Lauren’s arms, desire pounding through me. I was achingly aware of her hunger. It poured off her like heat waves, sinking into me, making me crave her until the physical distance between us was painful.

Grabbing the hand she had pressed flat against my stomach, I urged it downward.

“Camila.” Her voice was harsh with lust. I’d been pushing her all night, from the moment I told her my period was over, to the hand job beneath the restaurant table, to the scorching kiss in the intermission.

She gripped my bare thigh and squeezed. “Open.”

I set my left foot on the bottom of the railing. My head fell back against her shoulder and a heartbeat later, her hand was under my skirt. Her tongue traced the shell of my ear, her breathing hard and fast. I felt her groan as much as heard it when she discovered how wet I was.

One song blended into another. Lauren rubbed me through the crotch of my boyshorts, moving in circles, then vertically through my cleft. My hips rolled into her touch, my core clenching, my ass grinding into the hard ridge of her erection. I was going to come right there, inches away from dozens of people, because that was what Lauren did to me. That was how insanely she turned me on. Nothing mattered when her hands were on me, her attention completely riveted to me.

“That’s it, angel.” Her fingers pushed my underwear aside and two sank into me. “I’m going to fuck this gorgeous cunt for days.”

With bodies pressing in all around us, music pounding over us, and privacy granted only by distraction, Lauren slid her fingers deep into my soaked sex and stayed there. The solid, unmoving penetration drove me wild. I ground my hips into her hand, working toward the orgasm I needed so desperately.

The song ended and the lights went out. Drenched in darkness, the crowd roared. Anticipation weighted the audience, building until the strum of guitar strings broke the heavy expectation. Shouts rang out, then lighters flickered to life, turning the sea of people into thousands of fireflies.

A spotlight hit the stage, revealing Brett sitting on a bar stool, shirtless and glistening with sweat. His chest was hard and defined, his abs ridged with muscle. He lowered the height of the microphone stand and the piercings in his nipples glittered with his movements. The women in the audience screamed, including Shawna, who jumped in place and gave an ear splitting whistle.

I totally got it. Sitting there as he was, with his feet propped on the rungs of the chair and his muscular arms covered in sleeves of black and gray tattoos, Brett looked insanely sexy and extremely fuckable. For six months nearly four years ago I’d debased myself to get him naked every chance I could, so infatuated with him and desperate to be loved that I took whatever scraps he threw me.

Lauren’s fingers began to slide in and out of me. The bass kicked in. Brett began to sing a song I’d never heard before, his voice low and soulful, the words crystal clear. He had the voice of a fallen angel. Mesmerizing. Seductive. And the face and body to enhance the temptation.

Golden girl, there you are.

I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

I’m living my dream, riding the high,

But I see you there, sunlight in your hair,

And I’m ready to go, desperate to fly.

Golden girl, there you are.

Dancing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

I want you so bad. I can’t look away.

Later, you’ll drop to your knees. You’ll beg me please.

And then you’ll go, it’s only your body I know.

Golden girl, where’d you go?

You’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.

I could have you in the bar or the back of my car,

But never your heart. I’m falling apart.

I’ll drop to my knees, I’ll beg you. Please.

Please don’t go. There’s so much more I want to know.

Camila, please. I’m on my knees.

Golden girl, where’d you go?

I’m singing for the crowd, the music’s loud.

And you’re not there, with sunlight in your hair.

Camila, please. I’m on my knees.

 The spotlight went dark. A long moment passed as the music faded. Then the lights came back on and the drums exploded with sound. The flames winked out and the crowd went crazy.

But I was lost to the roaring in my ears, the tightness in my chest, and a confusion that had me reeling.

“That song,” Lauren growled in my ear, her fingers fucking me forcefully, “makes me think of you.”

Her palm pressed into my clit and massaged, and I climaxed in a rush that took me by storm. Tears came to my eyes. I cried out, shaking in her arms. Gripping the railing in front of me, I held on and let the unstoppable pleasure pulse through me.

* * *

 When the show was over, all I could think about was getting to a phone and calling Cary. While we waited for the crowd to thin, I leaned heavily into Lauren, drawing support from the strength of her arms around me.

“You okay?” she asked, running her hands up and down my back.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Honestly, I didn’t know how I was feeling. It shouldn’t matter that Brett wrote a song about me that painted a different light on our fuck-buddy history. I was in love with someone else.

“I want to go, too,” she murmured. “I’m dying to get inside you, angel. I can barely think straight.”

I pushed my hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “So let’s get out of here.”

“I’ve got backstage access.” She kissed the tip of my nose when I leaned back to look up at her. “We don’t have to tell them, if you’d rather get out of here.”

I seriously debated it for a moment. After all, the night had been great as it was, thanks to Lauren. But I knew it’d bother me later, if I denied Shawna and Arnoldo—who was also a Six-Ninths fan—something they’d remember for the rest of their lives. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that I wanted to catch a glimpse of Brett up close. I didn’t want him to see me, but I wanted to see him. “No. Let’s take them back there.”

Lauren grabbed my hand and spoke to our friends, whose excitement over the news gave me the excuse to say I’d done it solely for them. We headed down toward the stage, then off to the side of it, where Lauren spoke to the massive man acting as security. When the guy spoke into the mic of his headset, Lauren pulled out her cell and told Angus to bring the limo around to the back. While she spoke, her eyes met mine. The heat in them and the promise of pleasure took my breath away.

“Your woman is the ultimate,” Shawna said, eyeing Lauren with a look of near reverence. It wasn’t a predatory look, just an appreciative one. “I can’t believe this night. I owe you big-time for this.”

She pulled me in for a quick, hard hug. “Thank you.”

I hugged her back. “Thank you for inviting me.”

A tall, rangy man with blue streaks in his hair and stylish black-framed glasses approached us. “Miss. Jauregui,” he greeted Lauren, extending his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be coming tonight.”

Lauren shook the man’s hand. “I didn’t tell you,” she replied smoothly, reaching her other hand out to me.

I caught it and he pulled me forward, introducing me to Robert Phillips, Six-Ninths’ manager. Shawna and Arnoldo were introduced next; then we were led back through the wings, where activity was high and groupies loitered.

I suddenly didn’t want to catch even a glimpse of Brett. It was so easy to forget how it’d been between us while I was listening to him sing. It was so easy to want to forget after listening to the song he’d written. But that time in my past was something I was far from proud of.

“The band’s right in here,” Robert was saying, gesturing to an open door from which music and raucous laughter poured out. “They’ll be excited to meet you.”

My feet dug in suddenly and Lauren paused, glancing at me with a frown.

I pushed up onto my toes and whispered, “I’m not all that interested in meeting them. If you don’t mind, I’m going to hit the backstage bathroom and head out to the limo.”

“Can you wait a few minutes and I’ll go with you?”

“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

She touched my forehead. “Are you feeling alright angel? You look flushed.”

“I’m feeling great. I’ll show you exactly how great as soon as we get home.”

That did the trick. Her frown faded and her mouth curved. “I’ll hurry this along, then.” She looked at Robert Phillips and gestured at Arnoldo and Shawna. “Can you take them in? I need a minute.”

“Lauren, really . . .” I protested.

“I’m walking you over there.”

I knew that tone. I let her walk me the twenty feet to the bathroom. “I can take it from here, ace.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here. Go do your thing. I’ll be fine.”

She gave me a very patient look. “Camila, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I can manage. Seriously. The exit is right there.” I pointed down the hall to the open double doors beneath a lighted exit sign. Roadies were already transporting equipment out. “Angus is right out there, isn’t he?”

Lauren leaned her shoulder into the wall and crossed her arms.

I threw up my hands. “Okay. Fine. Have it your way.”

“You’re learning, angel,” she said with a smile.

Muttering under my breath, I went into the bathroom and took care of business. As I washed up at the sink, I looked into the mirror and winced. I had raccoon eyes from sweating so damn much and my pupils were dark and dilated.

“What does she see in you?” I asked myself derisively, thinking of how awesome she still looked. As hot and sweaty as she’d been, she looked none the worse for wear, while I looked damp and limp. But more so than my exterior, it was my personal failings I was thinking of. I couldn’t get away from them. Not while Brett was in the same building with us.

I rubbed a dampened square of paper towel under my eyes to get rid of the black smudges, then headed back out to the hall. Lauren waited a few feet away, talking with Robert, or more accurately, listening to him. The band’s manager was clearly excited about something.

Lauren spotted me and held up a hand to get me to wait a minute, but I didn’t want to take the risk. I gestured down the hall at the exit, then turned and headed that way before she could stall me. I hurried past the green room door, chancing a quick glance inside to see Shawna laughing with a beer in her hand. The room was packed and boisterous, and she looked like she was having a great time.

I made my escape with a sigh of relief, feeling ten times lighter the moment I left. Spotting Angus standing next to Lauren’s limo on the far side of the line of buses, I waved and set off toward him.

Looking back on the night, I was tantalized by how uninhibited Lauren had been. She sure as hell hadn’t been the woman who’d used mergers and acquisitions as parlance for getting me into bed.

I couldn’t wait to get her naked.

A burst of flame in the darkness to my right startled me. I jolted to a halt and watched Brett Kline lift a match to the clove cigarette hanging from his lips. As he stood in the shadows to the side of the exit, the flickering light of the flame caressed his face and threw me back in time for a long minute.

He glanced up, caught me in his gaze, and froze. We stared at each other. My heart kicked into a mad beat, a combination of excitement and apprehension. He cursed suddenly, shaking out the match as it burned his fingers.

I took off, struggling to maintain a casual pace as I made a beeline for Angus and the limo.

“Hey! Hold up,” Brett shouted. I heard his footsteps approaching at a jog, and adrenaline surged through me. A roadie was pushing a flat hand truck loaded with heavy gear and I darted around him, using him as cover to duck between two buses. I pressed my back flat against the side of one, standing between two open cargo compartments. I cringed into the shadows, feeling like a coward, but knowing I had nothing to say to Brett. I wasn’t the girl he knew anymore.

I watched him rush by. I decided to wait, give him time to look and give up. I was hyper aware of the time passing, of the fact that Lauren would be looking for me soon.

“Camila.”

I flinched at the sound of my name. Turning my head, I found Brett approaching from the other side. While I’d been looking to the right, he’d come up on the left.

“It is you,” he said roughly. He dropped his clove smoke on the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.

I heard myself saying something familiar. “You should quit.”

“So you keep telling me.” He approached cautiously. “You saw the show?”

I nodded and stepped away from the bus, backing up. “It was awesome. You guys sound really great. I’m happy for you.”

He took a step forward for every one of mine backward. “I was hoping I’d find you like this, at one of the shows. I had a hundred different ideas about how it might go if I saw you at one.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The tension between us was so thick it was hard to breathe.

The attraction was still there.

It was nothing like what I felt with Lauren. Nothing more than a shadow of that, but it was there nonetheless.

I retreated back out into the open, where the activity was high and there were lots of people milling around.

“Why are you running?” he asked. In the pool of light from a parking lot lamp, I saw him clearly. He was even better looking than before.

“I can’t . . .” I swallowed. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.” The intensity of his glare burned through me. “You stopped coming around. Didn’t say a word, just stopped showing up. Why?”

I rubbed at the knot in my stomach. What was I going to say? I finally grew a pair and decided I deserved better than to be one of the many chicks you fucked in a bathroom stall between sets?

“Why, Camila? We had something going and you just fucking disappeared.”

Turning my head, I looked for Lauren or Angus. Neither was anywhere in sight. The limo waited alone. “It was a long time ago.”

Brett lunged forward and caught me by the arms, startling me, briefly frightening me with the sudden aggressive movement. If we hadn’t been so near other people, it might have triggered panic.

“You owe me an explanation,” he bit out.

“It’s not—”

He kissed me. He had the softest lips, and he sealed them over mine and kissed me. By the time I registered what was happening, he’d tightened his grip on my arms and I couldn’t move away. Couldn’t push him away.

And for a brief span of time I didn’t want to.

I even kissed him back, because the attraction was still there and it soothed something hurting inside me to think I might’ve been more than a convenient piece of ass. He tasted like cloves, smelled seductively like hard working male, and he took my mouth with all the passion of a creative soul. He was familiar, in very intimate ways.

But in the end, it didn’t matter that he got to me still. It didn’t matter that we had a history, painful as it was for me. It didn’t matter that I was flattered and affected by the lyrics he’d written, that after six months of watching him enjoy other women while nailing me anywhere with a door that locked, it was me he was thinking about when he seduced screaming-for-it women from the stage.

None of that mattered because I was madly in love with Lauren Jauregui, and she was what I needed.

I wrenched away with a gasp—

—and faced Lauren charging at a dead run, her speed unchecked as she rammed into Brett and took him down.

*Sorry for the long wait. Forgot I was even converting this. Let me know if there are any mistakes. enjoy!! 

[doubleleoenergy]

V. Off to the Races, Lolita Series

My old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam. And he shows me, he knows me. Every inch of my tar-black soul.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of relationship violence, rape, and murder, pet names, passionate sex,

Words: 4025 (I am SO sorry for this)

Summary: Andy takes y/n on a weekend getaway while Jacob and his friends are out of town.

Two weeks had dragged on since Andy had gotten a taste of y/n’s sweet nectar, and since then nothing. It wasn’t like they really had the chance to be alone, Jacob and the other boys weren’t going out late at night or on the weekends as they usually did. Andy had to settle for his hand every night, reminiscing on their oral escapades.

It didn’t help that Andy had been swamped with cases, court appearances, and tons of paperwork. He had spent every night of those two weeks at the office until his eyes physically couldn’t stare at the cases in front of him anymore. Andy even showed up on the weekend to fit in a little extra work, hoping it would help take care of some of the load but to no avail. He was completely and thoroughly exhausted, and he could tell that y/n was as well.

She had worked directly with him on a few late-night cases, the rest of the time being spent shadowing Neal fucking Loguidice. It was great for her internship to do so, getting new perspectives of different attorneys in the office, but it was not as good for his jealousy.

By Thursday evening the heavy load of cases and paperwork had seemed to disappear, and Andy was grateful for being able to leave the office at a decent hour. With y/n in tow, he ducked into his Audi, waiting for y/n to get comfortable in the passenger seat before roaring the vehicle to life.

“Is it just me, or have these past two weeks been exhausting?” He asked, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at y/n as he drove. Andy knew her answer before she even opened her mouth, a loud groan leaving her lips as she rested her head back against the seat.

“You’re telling me, if I have to hear Neal mention one more time about his new kickboxing class, I’m going to gouge my eyes out. He really fucking sucks.” Her words elicit a chuckle from Andy’s lips, a smile of pride seeping onto his face. It was good to know she didn’t have any interest in Neal.

“We should do something fun this weekend, just the two of us. Maybe you’ll let me finally take you on a date” He suggested, lulling his car to a stop at the next red light. Y/N raised an eyebrow in his direction, cocking her head to the side. “Andy, I already told you, I don’t do relationships.”

Andy rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat to look at her. “Yeah, you said that, but I’m in it for the long game, y/n. You have to admit there’s something between us.”

“Andy…” She sighs, watching the sun setting out the passenger window. Sure, there was definitely something between him. Was he different from all the other guys before that she had hooked up with? Yes, of course. First off, she had never been with a man his age, someone with a career, a house, and a car of his own. He even had a pension and a life insurance policy; she hadn’t hooked up with any men who had those.

The car is silent as they pull into the garage, Andy immediately shutting off the car and sitting back in his seat. Y/N looked down at her lap awkwardly, reaching for the door but Andy stopped her with a tug to her wrist, getting her to look up at him.

“You want to be an attorney, right?” The question has her furrowing her brows, looking at him as if he had said ‘You know the sky is blue, right?’

“Of course, you know that, but what does that have to do with-” Andy cuts her off by holding up his index finger, loosening his grip on her wrist. “Attorneys defend their cases in court to a judge or jury, who then ultimately decide the fate of their clients. Their job is to convince someone that their claim is right.” Andy rests one hand on the steering wheel, a smug smirk crossing his lips.

“Saturday morning we’ll leave for a weekend getaway, planned by yours truly. This will all be part of my case as to why we should be together, no more games, officially together. You as the judge will examine the weekend's evidence and conclude on whether we should be together. If you decide after the weekend that you don’t think so, I’ll leave it alone and we won’t have to discuss it ever again. But I’m hoping for it to change your mind.” Before she can protest, Andy holds his hand up. “And I’ll even get us a room with two beds, no funny business, promise. So...will you hear my case out?”

Y/N had to admit, she had never been chased by a guy so ferociously, but what was the harm in seeing the evidence and getting a free weekend vacation out of it? She stuck her hand out for him to shake, a professional gesture for their arrangement. “Alright, I will gladly hear your case out.”

Andy had arranged it all down to the last detail, including lying to Jacob and the boys about an important conference for work that they both had to attend that weekend. Of course, he didn’t suspect a thing, he went out of town for conferences all the time, and thus his plan was set.

When Saturday morning finally arrived, Andy was feeling great. He had gone for an early morning jog, took a long shower, and even trimmed his hair and beard. Andy dressed in a plain white t-shirt and dark denim jeans, packing his bag with his essentials for the evening before walking out into the kitchen. As usual, the boys were all still asleep, hungover from their late-night game of shot roulette, which left the house extremely quiet.

Andy couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face as he walked into the kitchen and saw y/n waiting at the counter, a familiar plate of breakfast and coffee next to her. “It’s a Saturday, you know that right? Thought breakfast was for workdays.” He stated, moving to sit at his usual spot beside her.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” She responded, taking a swig from her coffee mug. Andy’s eyes wandered along her body; her outfit of the day effortlessly beautiful. She wore a tight white bodysuit tucked into a pair of figure-hugging mint shorts; a pair of matching wedges slipped onto her dainty feet to complete the look.

“You’re right, it is.” Andy’s silverware moved to cut into his meal, chewing thoughtfully as he thought about the day ahead. “You’d think that by making me breakfast you were trying to plead your own case.” He teased, engulfing another bite of his food.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, moving to set her now empty coffee mug in the sink. “I’ve got nothing to plead, you on the other hand, do.” She waits with her back to the counter, playing on her phone until he finishes his meal, setting his plate in the sink behind her.

“Are you ready to go?” He questioned, grabbing his duffel bag off the floor. Y/N followed suit, grabbing her tiny black suitcase and following him out into the garage. Andy grabbed the suitcase from her, setting it with his own bag in the trunk before they both got into the car, backing slowly out of the driveway.

It was a beautiful day out, the sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Y/N asks, crossing her legs.

“Would it matter? You’re not familiar with the state anyhow.” He retorted, pulling up the address on his GPS as they started on their journey.

“True, I just want to know what I’m getting into.” Her eyes locked on the GPS, noticing the destination was an hour away. “Rockport? What’s in Rockport?” She asked, raising a shapely brow in Andy’s direction.

“Well for starters, it’s along the ocean, which guarantees a good view. It also has great shopping, beaches, and restaurants. It’s a nice little getaway.” Andy turns on the radio as the car goes silent, y/n admiring the view as they drive.

The silence in the car was comfortable, both of them enjoying each other’s company, and before they knew it, they had arrived at their home for the weekend. They were staying at the Cove at Rockport, a beautiful inn right along the ocean. It was even more classy than the photos online, and Andy made quick working of getting them checked into their room.

Andy and y/n walked together down the long hallway to their room, room one on the first floor. Unlocking the door with the key provided, Andy pushed it open, allowing y/n to step in and take in their living arrangements.

The main room was huge, donning a cute little breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen, a living room, two separate bedrooms, and a bathroom. The decor was all beach themed, of course, shades of blues and beiges filling their sights.

“This definitely deserves a point towards your case.” Y/N admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. It was honestly the nicest place she’d ever stayed at, more luxurious than what she had expected. Walking further into the space, y/n pushed open the sliding door, the sound of waves hitting the shore bursting through her ears as she took in the view. It truly was gorgeous, much different from shitty life in Ohio.

“So, I did alright with my first piece of evidence?” He chortled, leaning back against the cool wall. Y/N continues to take in the view outside, a light breeze picking up and blowing her hair off her shoulders.

“I’d say so.” She shuts the sliding doors and walks back to investigate the sleeping spaces, setting her bags in the room with a large picture of a beach umbrella over the bed, the smaller of the two. “Well, what else do you have planned for your case? Because if this is it, I can come to a decision right away.”

Andy moved his own bag into the opposite room before walking into y/n’s and sitting down on the plush comforter. “I wanted to start the trip with a walk downtown, explore some of the shops before we get ready for our dinner reservations at six.”

Ah, he even sprung for reservations, what a smart man. “Sounds good, let’s explore.” Y/N got up from the bed, grabbing her purse before Andy followed her out, walking out of their room towards the lobby.

Downtown was only about a five-minute walk from the inn, an enjoyable stroll filled with laughter from a group of teens on the sidewalk, birds chirping in the trees, and the smell of fresh muffins wafting from the window of a bakery on the street. “Well, where should we look first?” He asked, turning to look at y/n for guidance on where she’d like to go.

They had spent about two full hours downtown, walking in and out of all the little shops, picking up a blueberry donut to share from one of the bakeries, and taking photos of each other along the Rockport streets. Most of the photos Andy took of y/n were very Instagram appropriate photos, staring down the camera and moving from angle to angle. On a few photos though, Andy would say something to make her laugh, snapping away at her genuine reaction.

Before long they were walking back into the room to get ready for their dinner reservations. Andy was pulling out all the stops, dressing up in one of his nicest black suits, a matching black tie situated atop a crisp white button down. He spritzed on some of his favorite Versace Eros cologne, adjusting the laces of his dress shoes before walking out into the living room. Andy had ordered a dozen red roses to be delivered to the suite, arriving shortly after he had finished getting ready, sitting on the couch with the flowers and waiting for y/n to walk out. God, he hoped this wasn’t too cheesy.

After about five minutes of waiting anxiously, the door to y/n’s room opened, noticing her delicate silver peep toe heels first. His eyes roamed up her toned and tanned legs, settling on her baby blue dress, off the shoulder with slightly puffy sleeves, a tie in the front revealing just a bit of cleavage. The ruffles on the hem swayed as she moved, her eyes taking in the sight of him as well with the flowers.

Suddenly Andy stood up, holding out the flowers to her. “You look incredible, Lolita.” There went the pet name again, though it was always so fitting for her. “Shall we go?” Y/N silently thanked him for the flowers, taking a whiff of their sweet aroma before setting them down on the counter near the door. She followed Andy to his car, waving him off when he tried to open her door for her. Her expression stayed on Andy the entire drive, inhaling his intoxicating cologne, licking her lips. Y/N had to admit, he always looked great in a suit.

The restaurant was only a ten-minute drive from the inn, a little classy seafood restaurant along the ocean coast. It was packed with people, a quartet playing Sinatra’s finest hits off in the far-right corner of the room. Some people were dancing, some were sitting along the bar against the left wall, while most were diners enjoying their meals at their table.

Y/N and Andy were led to a table near the back wall facing the ocean view. Andy started off by ordering a bottle of chardonnay for the table, taking in the sight of y/n lit up by the candlelight provided.

“This is beautiful, Andy.” She exclaimed, her eyes scanning the room and all the happy couples around them. Andy smiled before opening his menu, mulling over what to order. “I told you, I’m great at pleading my case. And as you know, I almost always win.” Y/N rolled her eyes, opening her own menu. “Key word, almost.”

After deciding on what to eat, Andy getting the seafood gnocchi and y/n ordering the lobster bisque, Andy poured them each a glass of wine, holding his up towards hers. “Cheers to an unforgettable night.” He exclaimed, clinking their glasses together before they each took a sip of their respective glasses.

As they wait for their food, Andy and y/n sit and talk more about their likes and dislikes, what they want in the future, and the day they had downtown. Their food arrives during the conversation and they continue to talk while they indulge in their meals, all the food just as incredible as the atmosphere.

About thirty minutes later Andy and y/n take in their last bites of food, sitting back and enjoying the liveliness around them. As they waited for their check to arrive, the sound of Sinatra’s hit ‘It Had to Be You’ started drifting from the quartet. Andy smiles, holding out his hand towards y/n as he stares down at her. “Dance with me?” He asks, taking in her surprised expression before she scoots herself out of her seat, grabbing his hand as he led her over to where the other couples were dancing. Andy places his hands on the small of her back, y/n wrapping her own around his neck as they sway to the tune.

“This is definitely not as good as dancing together at the club.” She joked, making Andy laugh. “Well, technically I wouldn’t call that dancing. More like...gyrating, or maybe dry humping? Definitely not the same.” Her smile brightened; his eyes locked on her as they moved. It was as if they were the only people there, like the whole world stopped to see them dance.

“For nobody else gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you...Wonderful you...It had to be you…” The quartet crooned, the song ending and a few of the couples clapping in response. Andy’s eyes bore into y/n’s, licking his lips before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, holding it for a moment before y/n pulled away, clearing her throat and letting go of his neck.

“M’sure the bill is on the table.” She stated, walking back towards their chairs. Andy let out a huff of disappointment, following her over to the table and paying for their meal before they walked in silence back to their car.

The car ride felt riddled with tension, the tension continuing to build as they got back to the room. “We need to talk, y/n.” He admitted as the door of their suite shut behind them, crossing his arms against his broad chest. Y/N leaned her weight against the wall between their bedrooms, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Andy…” She started, becoming silent again and chewing on her bottom lip. Andy’s stance becomes more tense, taking a step closer to her. “I want you, y/n. And not because of how mind-blowingly attractive you are. You are intelligent, thoughtful, and selfless. You’re not stuck up or fussy about material items. You make me feel like I’m in my twenties again, you make me feel like I’ve never felt with another woman.”

He takes another step closer to her, hovering above her due to his height. She puts her hands on his chest to stop him from moving, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I’m terrified of this, Andy. How do I know you won’t turn out just like my piece of shit father, huh?” She leans her body weight against the wall, peering up at him.

“Look, I know how you feel, alright?” He moves away from her again, his back turned towards her as his hand ruffles through his hair. “I know firsthand, my father...he’s also in prison. He went to prison when I was young for raping and murdering a 19-year old woman. I vowed to myself to never ever treat a woman without kindness and respect. Though my marriage with Laurie wasn’t perfect, I’m sure she’d say that I was nothing like my father, and nothing like yours for that matter.”

He turns back to look at her, arms outstretched. “I promise I will never hurt you; you can trust me. I’m all in, y/n. And I meant everything I said.”

She processes his story of his father, realizing they had a lot more in common than she once thought. Her heart is beating so fast she thought it might splatter in her chest, closing the distance between the two quickly. Her hand came up to grip his jaw, leaning up and kissing him lovingly. They continue to kiss, y/n parting her lips to allow Andy’s tongue to slip inside, exploring her mouth and causing her to moan. After a moment they both pull away breathless, her hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay...I’m all in too, with you.” Her words are all Andy had been wanting to hear, gripping her waist and kissing her lustfully this time, pushing them backwards until they both hit the wall again with a groan. His lips trailed a line of kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, shrugging off his suit jacket and making quick work at the buttons on his shirt, practically ripping the buttons off completely.

Y/N is tilting her head back against the wall, helping to push off his now open shirt to expose his God-like torso. This was her first time seeing his chest, running her cool fingers against his abs as he kissed back up her neck and into her mouth.

He plays with the fabric on sleeves of her dress, pushing them down so that she can fully shimmy out of the pale blue fabric. Her breasts are on full display, no bra to pull down, and Andy growled at the sight of them. They were just as perky as they had been while peeking through her outfits.

He nudged her body in the direction of his bed, hands making quick work of his belt and pulling down his trousers, kicking them into a pile as he walked into the bedroom after her in only his Calvin Klein briefs. Andy moved forward to kiss her again, knocking them both over onto the bed, a breathy laugh escaping her throat. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, my little Lolia.” He purred, his hands coming up between them to knead over her delectable breasts. Y/N cried out from the touch, grinding her hips up into Andy’s to evoke a similar noise from him. “Andy, need you…” She whined, her back arching off the bed, her panties rolling against his clearly clothed hard cock.

He slipped his hands lower, teasing his fingertips along her folds, already slick with her desire. “Need what, Lolita? Need you to tell me exactly what you want.” Her hands rub his cock through the thin fabric, a whine of impatience leaving her lips. 

“Need you inside me, Andy. Please, fuck my pussy.” Her words ignite an animalistic groan from his lips, pulling off her and scooting her up further onto the bed until her head touched the pillows. He quickly tugged off his boxers, stepping out of them before shimmying her out of her panties, tossing them aside.

His eyes grew dark as he took in her naked form in front of him, stroking his cock. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and she was all his. Andy moved onto the bed, hovering over y/n with his cock dragging against her glistening folds. He was bigger than the guys she’d been with before, and the thought alone excited and terrified her. Her fingers land on the skin of his shoulder blades, pressing in lightly as she locks eyes with him.

“Andy, please.” She begs again. Andy keeps his eyes on hers as he pushes in slowly, giving her time to adjust as he moves inch by inch into her cunt. Her nails dig a bit deeper into his skin, mewling as he continues to press into her until he finally bottoms out, holding himself in place. 

“God, my little Lolita, you’re so fucking tight...you’re milking my cock and I haven’t even moved yet. Do you want me to move?” He leant down and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, waiting for her mumbled ‘mhm’ against him before he rolled his hips into hers.

The pace started slowly, building up speed with every little noise y/n’s mouth made, coming undone underneath him with each thrust. They continued to share soft kisses, moaning into each other’s mouths, y/n’s hands locking around his neck.

“Andy.” She breathed, her walls tightening and releasing around him. “Wanna cum for you.”

Andy quickened his pace, kissing along her pulse point on her neck. “Cum for me, Lolita. Want to feel you cum on my cock.” It doesn’t take her long after his sentence before she’s tightening her walls again, crying out as her orgasm rips through her. Her eyesight is full of stars, and it takes a second for her to regain her vision, focusing on Andy’s face once she does.

“M’gonna cum in this pretty cunt, fill you up to the brim.” He states, thrusting a few more times before coating her walls with his release. He stills inside of her for a moment before pulling out slowly and plopping down with his back on the bed next to her.

They both lie in silence, staring up at the ceiling, panting. The sex was incredible, better than they both could’ve imagined. Andy’s arm wraps loosely around y/n’s shoulder, tugging her into his chest and pressing a loving kiss to her forehead.

“You’re mine now, it’s official.” He looked down at her with a lazy smile, watching as her fingers began to trail up and down his chest. “Guess you could say I won yet another case.”

“Shut up, Andy.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @my-divine-death @blackwiddows @sokovianheadtilt @fuckandfluff @rattlemyb0nes @rootcrop @turtoix @sylvielaufeydottirr @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @ccmarvelxx @rebelemilu @tenaciousperfectionunknown @agentofbarnes @serendipityrogers

[cloudybarnes]

Call Me James

Pairing: bucky barnes x reader

Summary: at a party hosted by tony stark, bucky notices his girl laughing with a man he’s never seen before, and he doesn’t like it

Word Count: 1.3k +

Warnings: cursing, slight suggestive content 

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

“Babe, what dress do you like more?” You turned around from the closet to show Bucky the two dresses you held up.

One was a wine red dress with a deep v-neckline and a tall slit up the leg. The other was a spaghetti strap, black dress with a slit similar to the red one. The neckline wasn’t plunging like the red but it was still gorgeous enough for you to have a hard time choosing. 

“God damn, doll.” Bucky whistled. “You’d look gorgeous in both of them, but you know I love it when you wear red for me.”

You giggled and put the black dress back in your closet. “I had a feeling you’d pick this one.” 

Bucky grinned and stepped closer to you so he could wrap his arms around your waist. He bent down to press a hard kiss to your lips. “You know me so well, doll.”

“I’d be a bad girlfriend if I didn’t know these things about you.”

“You could never be a bad girlfriend; you’re the best.”

“That’s not true! What if I forgot your birthday?” You giggled, linking your arms around his neck.

He smirked, “You’d never forget my birthday.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You laughed, and stepped out of his embrace. “I can do your tie for you, just let me put my dress on real quick.”

He nods as you pull of your sleep shirt, careful not to mess up your hair and makeup. You tugged off your shorts leaving you only in your underwear since you didn’t wear a bra.

Bucky groaned and stepped closer to you, resting his hands on your butt, giving it a little squeeze. “You’re killing me here, doll.”

You giggled as he started placing light, feathery kisses to your neck. “No marks please, not before the event.” You smirked, “After though...”

He grinned and pinched your nipple, making you yelp.

Bucky laughed, “Alright, gorgeous, have it your way.”

You chuckled, shaking you head. You unzipped the dress and stepped into it, tugging it above your breasts and slipping the small straps over your shoulders. You slipped your matching red heels on. 

“You mind zipping me, baby?”

Bucky shook his head and walked behind you. “Only seems fair since you’re gonna tie my tie for me.”

Bucky’s fingers gently grasped the zipper, and slowly slid it all the way where it stopped at your mid back. “There you go.” He whispered. 

You turned around with a smile, and tugged on his tie. After a quick movement, you finished with it. 

He tugged on the tie to adjust it to his liking, and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, baby.”

He grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in yours. “You ready?” 

You nodded, and allowed him to drag you out the room and towards the stairs. Even before you reached them, you could hear the sound of music playing. Going down, the lights were dimmed. There was a bar in the main room and red lights placed all around.

“Looks like Stark went all out for this.” Bucky half-shouted. 

You nodded, “Yeah, the place looks really nice!”

“Hold on, Steve’s waving me over.” Bucky pointed his finger towards Steve who was grinning, motioning him over. Bucky turned to you, “You wanna come with me or hang here?”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, “You can go. I’m gonna head to the bar and grab us some drinks, then I’ll meet up with you.”

He gave your hand a squeeze and left to see what Steve wanted. You made your way over to the open bar and ordered Bucky’s favorite drink as well as a margarita for yourself. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You turned around from the bar and saw a face you were not expecting to see here.

“Miles?” You grinned.

He nodded his head and laughed. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m seeing you here. How long has it been, six years?”

“Five, I think. We’re not that old, Miles.” You teased.

He chuckled, and pulled you into a hug. You kept it short, and smiled at him. “What brings you to a Stark party?”

He smirked, “If you remember anything about it, I’d hope it’d be how amazing I am at getting into parties.”

You laughed and gently pushed on his shoulder. “Oh my god! I completely forgot. We used to get into some trouble at college. Remember that time you snuck us into Arabella’s party because they had front row concert tickets as party favors?”

He cackled. “And then we got thrown out because you spilled your drink on her.”

You giggled, “I’m a clumsy person, what can I say!”

From across the room, Steve nudged Bucky, stopping him from talking.

“Hey, what was that for?” 

Steve nodded his head in your direction. “Who’s the guy with (Y/N)?”

Bucky turned around and saw you standing by the bar, your guys’ drinks on the counter still as you chatted with a man he’d never seen before. 

Bucky saw you laughing with him and playfully nudging him. “I have no idea. I’m gonna head over there; I’ll catch up with you later.” He left Steve and strode over to you.

You could see Bucky walking towards you as you chatted with Miles. “Oh hey! I want to introduce you to someone.”

Just as you said that, Bucky came up and wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Hey, doll. Who’s your friend?”

You smiled, “This is Miles. We were best friends in college. Miles, this is my boyfriend, Bucky.”

Miles stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Bucky shook it. “Only my friends call me Bucky. You can call me James.”

Miles stammered, “Oh, yeah, nice to meet you... James.”

You shot Bucky a confused look. He usually lets everyone call him Bucky. 

He brushed your look off and placed his hand on your lower back. “So, what did you guys talk about?”

Miles’ smile slowly falters, “Just sharing some memories from school.”

“Oh really,” Bucky condescends. “I’d love to hear some. You know, since they were so funny.”

You arched your brow and looked at Bucky, trying to figure out what had gotten into him. 

“Oh, uh, okay. So basically we were just talking about one time we-”

“Oh my gosh,” Bucky fake gasped, “I’m so sorry, Mike, but my friend is waving us over so we’d better get going. It was nice talking to you, have fun at the party.”

Bucky dragged you along with him before you could even say good-bye to Miles, or correct Bucky on saying the wrong name.

“Buck, stop!” You pulled your hand out of his grasp. The two of you were far enough away from anyone else where you could talk. “What has gotten into you? You never act so cold to people.”

Bucky sighed and placed his hands on your arms. “I’m sorry, doll. It was just something about him that I didn’t like. I got a bad feeling.”

Your face softened as you watched Bucky try to explain himself. “But you didn’t even give him a chance to get to know you. And you made him call you James.” You lightly laughed.

He shook his head and groaned. “I know, that was weak. I just didn’t like seeing you with him. It’s not that I don’t want you to have friends, but you know, I don’t really like the thought of some random guy making you laugh.”

You stifled a laugh, “So you acted that way because you were jealous?”

Bucky shook his head, “I’m not jealous.”

You laughed and pointed at him, “You’re totally jealous!”

Bucky groaned hid his face in your neck. “Okay, fine! I’m jealous. It’s embarrassing enough, you don’t have to poke fun at me.”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh anymore. “Baby, I’m not making fun of you. I think it’s kind of sweet that you care so much about me.”

Bucky lifted his head, and softly gazed into your eyes. “Of course I care about you. You’re everything to me, and I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You cooed, and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I’m yours Bucky; I’ll only ever be yours.”

Bucky grinned and kissed you again, deeper than the last time. He gripped your face between his palms and smothered you in his love.

He pulled away breathless, and gave you one last quick peck.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you more. Now come on, let’s get back to this party.”

[thedeadhandofseldon]

The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and  worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

[talkfastromance4]

Flowers 4+1// ashton irwin oneshot

A/N: this is my first ever 4+1 fic so I’m kind of nervous, thank you Angie @littledrummerangie for the idea! This is also SUPER indulgent as being a birthday fic for me and a birthday fic with Ashton😅 since mine is the day before his. This has everything I love in it, flowers, hot tubs, a cabin, christmas, love… This is 4 times Ashton gives you flowers and 1 time you give him flowers

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

Enjoy!💕

*****

One

The first time they met was when Andy and Sarah invited Ashton to help her move into her new place. The movers basically set all the boxes and furniture into her house and then left her to her own devices. She called Andy and Sarah for help and if they had any reinforcements it would be greatly appreciated. 

She was trying to find wine glasses when there was a knock at the door. When she opened it she had to look up at her guest. His copper brown hair fell in waves and necklaces hung perfectly down his neck, his hazel eyes were bright and friendly.

First, she noticed how good looking he is and the second thing she noticed was the mason jar filled with orange and peach flowers. 

“Uh, hi can I help you?” she asks suddenly feeling very self-conscious of her ratty t-shirt and paint splotched shorts. 

“I’m Ashton and I’m your honorary mover,” he smiles. “Andy called me. You must be Y/N.”

“Must be. I mean--yes, I am! And oh, right, wow. Sorry, please come in and thank you for helping,” she says, moving aside to let him in.

“Yeah, of course. These are for you,” he holds out the mason jar. “A housewarming gift.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles, taking the flowers with both hands. Their fingers brush. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?” his eyes bore into hers and she’s momentarily frazzled. 

“Apart from my mom or grandpa but...um, I’ll put these in the kitchen. Andy’s in the bedroom putting the bed together if you’d like to help in there.”

She escapes into the kitchen where Sarah is wiping down the fridge. 

“Who was at the door? What pretty flowers!” 

“Your friend Ashton and he gave me these,” you touch one of the roses before burying your nose in the plumage. The petals tickle your nose and the scent is wonderful. 

“He’s sweet like that,” Sarah smiles. “Did you find the glasses?”

“No,” Y/N huffs, setting the flowers on the counter by the sink. “They’re probably in the bathroom or something.”

“We’ll find them.”

The four of them continue working on unpacking and it isn’t until about 10 o’clock when Andy and Ashton enter the living room.

“The bed, vanity, and dressers are all assembled,” Andy announces wiping at his brow. 

“We’re the poor man's Avengers,” Ashton laughs. “We put the bed in the middle of the wall and the vanity next to the window. Best lighting to do make-up.”

“That’s...perfect actually, thank you guys,” Y/N smiles, balling up the newspaper and shoving it in a large garbage bag. She just finished placing her books on the shelves, she’ll sort them later in the week. 

“We were thinking of getting pizza,” Andy says.

“Pizza sounds great! Here, I’ll give you some money--”

“No, my treat,” Ashton says, “you’ve been working hard.”

After eating pizza they all went back to unpacking and Ashton made comments about the art pieces she has. He asks where she wants each one hung up. 

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll put them up later,” she waves her hand at him. 

“It’s my job as honorary mover,” he grins. 

Midnight came upon them sooner than she would like. Andy and Sarah headed out because of Pebbles, she’s been cooped up all day so it was just Ashton and Y/N. He asked questions while unpacking to get to know her better and he was very open to her questions. 

He stayed until 3 in the morning but he made sure to get her number before he left. She took a photo of the flowers on the counter before going to bed.

Two

She changed her outfit about a dozen times. Her bed was covered in discarded clothes and she still had to put on her makeup. The clock on her wall ticked reminding her that Ashton would be here in a little less than an hour. 

It’s been six months since he helped her move in and in that time, they became close. He showed her all of the best coffee shops and bookstores he knew of. He introduced her to the rest of his band and they accepted her kindly. 

She accompanied them on outings, parties, and Ashton always made sure to stick close with her. He knew she was shy around new people so he always made sure to include her in conversation. 

One night when he was walking her back to her door after going to dinner with the band and their significant others, he was acting strange. He was unusually quiet and she’d find him staring at her across the table. 

“So, I’ll see you Monday, right?” she asked, shuffling through her purse for her house key. 

“How about Saturday?” 

“This Saturday? I thought we were going to try that new restaurant Monday with Andy and Sarah?”

“I mean, we can do that, too but I was thinking...Saturday could just be us. You and me.”

The air changed between them and she stopped looking for her keys. She turned to face him but she couldn’t quite read his expression. 

“Oh, okay. Did you want to watch that new movie on Netflix?”

“Y/N, I’m trying to ask you on a date here,” he laughed nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ask me on a...you are? Oh God, and I’m ruining it. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--”

“You could never ruin anything,” he smiled. “But, would you like to go on a date with me this Saturday?” his hazel eyes were hopeful and Y/N couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

“I’d love to Ash,” she smiled. 

And now here she is, half naked and indecisive on what to wear. She shouldn’t be freaking out like this, it’s Ashton. But it’s also *Ashton. Ashton who can always make her laugh and he makes her feel safe and they always have fun together. But it’s also Ashton who gives her butterflies whenever he touches her lower back and her heart race when he gives her a hug. 

Her phone buzzes and it’s Ashton letting her know he’ll be there in forty-five minutes. She lets out a loud groan and goes back to her closet, maybe a new article of clothing she’s never seen will just reappear. 

To her astonishment, there was a maroon dress that she wore to a wedding. 

“Might as well,” she sighs and puts it on. It really doesn’t look half bad as she looks at herself in the mirror. 

She rushes to put on her makeup and by the time she spritzes on her perfume, the doorbell rings. She checks that she has everything in her clutch and moves to the door. 

It’s like a deja vu moment from six months ago because he’s handsome as ever and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His necklaces are perched perfectly in the V of his white button up shirt and it contrasts nicely with his skin. These flowers are full of pink and white flowers with a hint of peach thrown in there. The ivory paper crinkles when his fingers squeeze it, his eyes widen at the sight of her. 

“Wow, you look...wow.”

“You’re pretty wow yourself,” she giggles then glances at the flowers. “Are those for me?”

“Um, yes,” he holds his hand out, the flowers bumping your chest. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she laughs, taking them from him and buries her face in the center of it. “They smell wonderful, thank you so much. I’ll just put them in water and then we can go.”

He follows her into the house, she doesn’t see him glance down at her ass in the dress. He’s rubbing his neck again when she looks at him getting a vase from the counter. She fills it with water and arranges the flowers. 

“So, where are we going?”

**

They’re sitting outside the restaurant, it’s a warm breezy summer night. The rustic atmosphere feels comfortable but when she flicks her gaze at Ashton over the drink menu, he’s drinking his glass of water heartily. His other hand is tapping against the table, it’s a thing he does when he’s nervous. 

“Thirsty, huh?” She tries to ease his unusual activity and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, throat’s a little dry,” he clears his throat just as the waitress comes by. 

She takes their drink order and Ashton requests a pitcher of water if it’s available. Their roles are reversed, she’s the one doing most of the talking and he’s the one who’s listening. She can tell he’s still being reserved so she takes out her phone and points it at him.

“Smiiile!” She sings turning on portrait mode. 

“Why?” He laughs nervously but it makes him smile so she snaps the photo. 

“Because, the lighting is perfect and you look cute,” she flirts with a smile.

Ashton laughs again but it’s his real laugh, the laugh that always gets her laughing. She snaps as many photos as she can and it seems to have done the job of making him act like himself. Even though they’ve hung out nearly everyday, the evening still had the air of a first date. 

They even tried each other’s food. She stabbed her chicken and noodle with her fork, blew on it, and fed it to him across the table. 

“Wow, that is really good,” he hums in approval. He swirls his own noodles on his fork and feeds her slowly. 

“That sauce is amazing,” she moans, loving the lemon flavor. 

They share a dessert of chocolate mousse and split the strawberry. After dinner, he took her to the art museum. They're open later in the summertime. There were only a few people meandering in the open space and standing stagnant in front of pieces. 

“This is why I wanted to bring you here,” he says, taking her hand easily in his own. 

Her butterflies returned and he lead her all the way to the back. It was a Claude Monet exhibit and she tried to look at the paintings but Ashton was on a mission to a certain piece. He stops in front of it and she stares in amazement at the painting. It’s of Claude Monet on his boat. She gasps, staring at it and Ashton is staring at her. 

It’s the painting she tried to replicate when she was younger in her art class. It’s the painting that introduced her to Monet because the style was similar and it always stuck with her. She told him she wanted to find the painting when they first met and stayed up until 3 in the morning.

“You remembered this?” she asks, stepping closer to it. She makes sure their hands are still locked together, his thumb is rubbing her skin in soothing circles. 

“Your eyes always light up when you talk about things that matter to you. They’re always so bright when you talk about him...and when I give you flowers.”

“Ashton this is…” she shakes her head at a loss for words. She gazes upon the painting, loving the visibility of the palette strokes and the blending of the colors. Tears formed in her eyes. “This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she wipes the stray tear that slipped from her eye.

“Hey,” he says softly. His fingers graze her cheek tilting her face towards him. 

His thumb rubs at the leftover tear, his own face inching closer to hers. She closes her eyes, exhaling when his lips brush against hers. He squeezes her hand, his lips controlled and gentle yet also hesitant. As if he’s testing the waters. 

They unabashedly makeout in front of the paintings and in her mind she’s thinking of what they look like to an outsider. Still life man and woman lost in each other.

Three

The holidays arrived faster than she wanted them to. She still had a ton of shopping to do for her family but at least her flight is scheduled. Ashton is accompanying her on the trip and she’s so excited for him to meet her family. 

“Make sure you aren’t doing anything the weekend before the holiday,” he tells her unravelling lights from her box of Christmas decorations. 

“How come?” she asks searching through the tv for the claymation movies she loves to watch.

“That’s when I’m going to give you my present.”

“You need a whole weekend to do that?” she laughs. 

“I won’t say anything more than that,” he smirks at her. 

“I can help with that--”

“I got it sorted,” he waves her off, “you enjoy your movies.”

“Have I told you you’re the most amazing boyfriend?” she wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton shifts the lights into one hand so he can hold her against him with his free hand. 

“You’ve never told me that,” he grins and kisses her. 

“I’m sure I have,” she mumbles between kisses. Her hands slip under his shirt, thumbs grazing over his warm skin causing Ashton to grunt at the contact.

His hand rubs up her back and into her hair, he breaks the kiss with a shaky breath. “Let me finish putting these lights up and we can get back to this, baby.”

“We could get to this faster if you let me help,” she stresses, pinching his skin. “You never let me do anything.”

“You do plenty, baby,” he smiles, kissing her forehead. 

She sighs and retreats to the couch curling up to watch the movie and Ashton wrap and weave the lights around her tree. Two and a half movies later he was finally finished and turned the lights on. The white light reflected on her wooden floor and she beamed at his job well done.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!” she throws her arms around his neck in a big hug. 

“My pleasure,” he chuckles and kisses her temple. She starts to give small kisses to his neck, featherlight and ticklish on his skin. “Get outta here, you know I’m ticklish.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” she teases continuing her small attack of affection. 

Ashton shifts her in his arms making his way to her couch and drops onto the cushions. She situated herself so she’s straddling his waist. His hands smooth over the curve of her ass while his lips suction kisses along her jaw and to her neck. She shivers at the contact, tugging at his curls when he sucks a mark.

“This is what I’m gonna do about it,” he says gruffly and rocks her against his hips. 

“Okay,” she sighs, enjoying his mouth on her neck and the bulge in his pants rubbing against her core with each rock he makes her do. She moans when his hands move to her thighs and gives her a squeeze. 

Needing more of him, she drags his head away from her neck so she can feel his lips on her own again. She rolls her hips against his without his help and his hands slip under her shirt, moaning when he feels she’s not wearing a bra. 

“Damn, baby,” he growls cupping her breasts together. He tweaks her nipples and she squeaks in his mouth. “You like that?”

“Feels good,” she nods nipping at his lip. His phone rings and buzzes in his pocket, the vibration adds another element to her arousal.

“Leave it, they can leave a message,” he pants, sucking another kiss from her. 

His phone stops ringing only for hers to start on the coffee table behind them. She breaks the kiss and turns around trying to see the caller ID.

“Leave it,” he repeats, squeezing her breasts again.

“It could be an emergency,” she reaches for her phone to see it’s Sarah calling. “Hello?” She picks it up staring at Ashton and he smirks, lifting her shirt up. He takes her nipple between his lips and she scowls at him. “Oh, that was tonight? Um, yeah he’s with me. We’ll be right over. Okay, yeah…” she sighs when his teeth tug on her nipple. “See you soon.”

She tosses the phone to the couch and tosses her head back relishing in his mouth on her sensitive bud for a moment longer. Their physical relationship is progressing slowly, they’ve almost had sex three times (now four if Sarah hadn’t called) but she likes the pace they’re going at. 

“We need to go to Andy and Sarah’s,” she strokes his cheek curling his hair around his ear.

“Why? I’d rather stay here,” he shifts his mouth to her other breast, his tongue rolling over her nipple salaciously. 

“Mm, me too but it’s their Christmas party tonight. And we’re late by two hours,” she snickers, fingers still tangled in his hair. She has goosebumps from what his mouth is doing to her.

“I’m sick, can’t go.”

“Ashton!” she laughs pushing his head away from her chest. “We won’t see them until after the holiday. Come on, let’s go.”

She crawls off him, turns her tv off and changes her top, and puts on a bra. When she comes back Ashton is still sitting on the couch. She leans over the back of it next to his head. 

“Do I have to drag you off this couch?” she murmurs in his ear.

“I need a few moments,” he huffs, shifting his legs. 

“Oh,” she giggles, seeing exactly why because he still has a prominent bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry. Can I help?” she kisses down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. 

“You helped make this problem,” he laughs, turning his head to kiss her lips. 

**

The Christmas party was a hit and it’s the weekend before Christmas. Y/N was awakened by Ashton petting her hair and kissing her cheek, he used the spare key she gave him for emergencies.

“What a way to wake up,” she smiles, pulling him on top of her. His strong arms are caged around her head and his body weight makes her feel protected. 

“Your coffee is all ready, now you just have to pack and we’ll be on our way.”

“No breakfast in bed?” She traces his eyebrows. 

“I can make you breakfast in bed tomorrow*,” he nuzzles his nose against hers. “There’s a present by your coffee mug if that will help you get  your cute ass outta bed.”

Then his weight is off her and she’s left scrambling out of bed to follow him into the kitchen where her coffee is already in her to-go mug with a card and a bouquet of red roses and cranberries inside to make it more of a holiday special. He’s standing next to the small gifts with a grin on his face. 

“I love these, they’re so pretty,” she gushes, lifting the bouquet to her nose. She loves the sweet smell of a rose. 

“You’re so pretty when I give you flowers,” he comments, lifting up the red envelope. 

She holds the flowers against her chest and unfolds the envelope. Inside is a white card with writing formed in the shape of a Christmas tree, a star placed on top. The words read:

“TO A 

KIND

STRONG

BRILLIANT

SO BEAUTIFUL

AND TRULY AMAZING

GIRLFRIEND”

Ashton wrote his own inscription inside in his nice loopy script:

‘The past year with you has been one of the best of my life. Our friendship was the perfect foundation for a relationship and I can’t imagine what my world would be like now if you weren’t in it. So this weekend, it will just be me and you in our own little cabin, no interruptions. xx Ash’

“A cabin?”

**

After the 2 hour and 40 minute flight to Seattle, she and Ashton arrived at the cabin where a dusting of snow covered the ground and a wreath was on the door. Y/N was floored at how beautiful it was and Ashton took her hand leading her up the wooden steps. He took a key out and unlocked the door. 

It smelled like cinnamon and Ashton with cozy couches and armchairs, a large rug in front of a stone fireplace and a massive kitchen with a grill attached to a chimney. A Christmas tree was set up with presents scattered underneath and there was a large bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. 

“Ash…” she begins and then can’t find more words. 

“There’s more, c’mon,” he smiles, leading her up the winding staircase and into a loft area where a futon was and empty bookshelves. There were a few guitars on stands placed in the corner and some incense sticks. “What do you think?” He leans against the railing and Y/N ventures into the room.

“I think it’s wonderful, but there aren’t any books. Is this someone’s cabin and you’re renting it? I can chip in--”

“No, no. It is someone’s cabin...mine.”

She whips around from looking out the half circle window overlooking the backyard where she saw another grill and some chairs. 

“This place is yours?”

“Yep. I come here when I need to get away and just let my creative ideas flow. You can fill the bookshelves if you’d like.”

“Ash this is…” she shakes her head then launches herself into his arms for a hug. “This is incredible. And we’re here the whole weekend? Just us?”

“Just us, angel,” he nods, rubbing at her back. “There’s also a hot tub.”

His voice changed at the mention of the hot tub because she didn’t bring a suit. 

***

Ashton’s plan for Friday evening was to unpack and go into town for a nice meal. After dinner, they changed into their sleep clothes and snuggled on the couch with hot chocolate watching the first Home Alone movie because they’re her favorite movies. Her mind was on that hot tub and her stomach twisted with excited nerves at the thought of using it. She wanted to use it now but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth each time she tried to bring it up. 

She was also thinking of how this would be their first time sleeping together. Ashton never stayed the night because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. She found it sweet but it also increased her infatuation for him even more.

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, he had her lean on him while they walked to the bedroom. The bed was huge with a large comforter and even fluffier looking pillows. It looked heavenly and she slipped inside willingly. She rolled over and became awake again at the look on Ashton’s face. 

She tossed over the blanket on his side of the bed and patted the space below the pillow inviting him in. He crawled in carefully and shut the lights off and they were in darkness. Ashton remained sitting against the headboard and Y/N reached out for him in the dark. His forearm was warm and soft.

“Are you going to sleep like that the whole night?” she whispers, giving his arm a squeeze.

“No,” he whispers back, sliding further down the bed. Her hand now rested on his chest, she could feel his heart beating. He turns on his side clutching her hand in his. “Is it weird I’m nervous? I feel like I’m fifteen.”

“You first slept with a girl at fifteen?” she laughs.

“No, I meant--being around girls at that age made me nervous,” he chuckles. 

“I’m nervous, too. But in a good way. Just warning you, I’m a kicker so I apologize in advance.”

“Why are we still whispering, we’re the only ones here,” he says, raising his voice to a normal level. That only makes her giggle more. 

“I don’t know, it fits the mood with you regressing back to fifteen years old. Our parents could walk in at any moment.” She scoots closer to him, so close that she can feel his breath fan on her face. 

“I hope they don’t,” he murmurs, inching closer in the dark until he finds her lips. It’s a tender kiss, the kind of kiss that took her breath away slowly and made her heart smile. 

She keeps him close with her hand pressed to his cheek. They kiss and talk in hushed tones until she falls asleep and Ashton tickles up her back until sleep finally finds him, too.

Saturday morning did indeed include breakfast in bed. Ashton made pancakes, bacon, coffee and a small bowl of fruit. His itinerary for the day consisted of lounging around the cabin watching holiday movies and then he was going to make her a steak dinner. She insisted on helping him in the kitchen amidst his protests.

“I’m not a good cook but I’m a very good listener. I’m your sous chef.”

“What does ‘sous chef 'even mean?” he asks getting the ingredients out of the fridge. 

“It means ‘under.’”

“Ah, so you’re under me, huh?” he winks. 

“Let me help you cook and I just might be,” she challenged with a smile. Ashton shakes his head, a slight blush rising on his cheeks. 

She followed his instructions with the garlic and mashed potatoes. The dinner was exquisite paired with a delicious white wine. They each had a full glass, their bellies full and face warm from the wine, they were extra giggly and extra flirty. 

“How about that hot tub?” he asks, circling the rim of the wine glass with his finger.

“Did you pack a suit?” She raises her eyebrows. 

 “Nope.”

“I didn’t pack a suit either,” she points to her chest.

“Must have slipped my mind,” he gulps the last swallow of his wine, eyes on her.

“What a shame.”

He sets his glass on the table and takes her hands in his, his eyes looking almost apologetic. “You can wear a t-shirt and shorts. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He kisses both of her hands. 

“Go get the water ready.”

Twenty minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Ashton is already in the water. His arms are resting on the sides of the tub, his face even redder from the steam, his eyes hold hers steadily. 

The confidence she had in the bathroom is gone. She wanted to come out here and just get in the water completely naked, but now she’s nervous because what if she was reading the signs wrong? What if he doesn’t really want to have sex with her?

“Um, can you close your eyes while I get in?” she asks.

“‘Course,” he closes his eyes.

She takes a deep breath dropping the towel. The air kisses her skin and she climbs up the steps carefully. The water is hot as she descends into the tub, she bends down so only her head is exposed above the water. Ashton remains still and she inches closer to him until their knees touch.

“Hi there,” he smiles softly.

“Hi.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

First she nods then realizes he can’t see her so she clears her throat. “Yes.”

He opens his eyes slowly, and they look so pretty in the nighttime sky. He’s looking at her like he’s staring into the full face of the moon, his eyes are full of wonder and adoration and her confidence starts to rise within her. 

The longer he looks at her, the more bold she becomes and she rises up from the water. Her breasts are completely exposed. Ashton licks his lips, his eyes lowering over her wet chest. She doesn’t want to break the spell that’s cast between them so she moves towards him slowly, her hands rest on his shoulders. His arms remain on the sides of the tub. 

“Ashton.”

“Yeah?” 

“Touch me.”

In a flash, his lips are on hers and she’s pressed to his chest. His large hands cover her back, one dips over her ass and she gasps when she feels his hard-on against her thigh. He lifts her effortlessly in the water so she’s straddling him. 

Instinctively, she rubs herself against him groaning at how he rubs against her most sensitive area perfectly. 

“Need you,” she whispers against his mouth.

“Bed,” he gasps.

They exit the tub excitedly, drying off as quickly as they can and she presses herself against him in front of the bed. Their bodies are warm from the tub and he lifts her in his arms again. She loves feeling his muscles wrapped taut around her, he knees onto the bed and stays there. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they remain kissing.

“Do you have something?” she asks, pulling away to catch her breath. She twists his chest hair in her fingers.

“Um, yeah. Shit, hang on,” he sighs, slipping her back onto the bed. She watches him appreciatively as he skimpers to the kitchen pulling his coat off the hook.

“You have a really nice butt,” she compliments when he returns with a condom in hand. 

“Thanks, babe,” he laughs then stops at the foot of the bed staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks suddenly self-conscious. 

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

She smiles and pulls him on the bed with her again, connecting their lips. He rips open the condom and rolls it on his length. He kneels on the bed again and she’s quick to climb on top, moaning at his shaft rubbing between her folds. 

“Such a pretty moan,” he praises, grasping his cock in his hand. He teases her hole with his tip, nudging it inside a few times. Her lower body meets his in a desperate way, small gasps coming from her each inch he goes in deeper.

“Please, Ash...want all of you,” she knocks her forehead against his.

He takes a deep breath and pushes all the way in, his eyes watching her as her mouth opens and her eyes close at being filled. Their bodies tremble together and they remain still, experiencing being connected for the first time. 

“Good?” he asks, rubbing her nose affectionately.

“Mhm,” she nods and starts to roll her hips against him. “Ohhh…” she lets out a shuddering breath.

He follows her rhythm easily, arms wrapped around her, enjoying the way she rides on top of him. He kneads her ass as she moves, her breath picking up and when he can’t take it anymore, he rises on his knees, her legs fall on either side of him and she gasps. 

He rests her on her back gently, resting his chest against hers so that they’re still touching and rocks his hips in even thrusts. He slips his tongue in her mouth just as her legs wrap around his waist. She moans when he picks up the pace, her lower half meeting his thrusts perfectly. 

“Are you close baby?” he pants feeling her walls start to flutter around him. “So good for me...so perfect...taking me so well.”

“Don’t stop,” she moans tilting her head back. Ashton pounds into her faster, each time he thrusts in she clenches around him a bit more tightly. 

“Fuck…” he hisses when she clenches and stays that way. Her moans are loud in his ear and he always wants to be the one that makes her sound like that. He can’t hold his climax off with her sounding like that and he’s coming with her. “I love you,” he groans loudly in her neck.

When they recollect their breathing she holds his face in her hands.

“What did you say?” she gasps out, eyes wide with lust and surprise.

“I love you,” he breathes, stroking her temple with his thumb. “You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted to tell you that this weekend, too. It’s hard for me to say out loud and with just us--”

She kisses him fiercely. 

“I love you, too.”

Four

When she went to work there was a flower arrangement at her desk with a note from Ashton wishing her a great last day before her vacation for her birthday and his birthday. Hers was the day before his and everyone wanted them to do a joint party when they found that out. 

“No, that’s weird,” she scrunched her nose at the suggestion.

“Yeah, we aren’t siblings. That’s gross,” he agreed.

She took the week off for their birthdays so they could maybe go to the cabin or even rent a house on the beach. She loved her birthday but whenever she made plans, they always fell through or people never showed up.

She texted him that the flowers were beautiful and she couldn’t wait to spend the day with him the next day. When she got home, he was already there wearing an all black outfit with his shirt open. He knows how much she likes seeing his chest. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” she holds up the vase of pink peonies showcasing them. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Kiss me first,” he puckers his lips at her.

“Oops, sorry,” she giggles and steps on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. They always kiss each other hello. 

“Now, go get changed. We’ve got plans,” he grins.

“What kind of plans?” 

“Look on your bed and see,” he nods to her room down the hall. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.”

She shakes her head and does what he says. On her bed is a dress she always ogled when they were at the mall, Ashton clearly bought it for her. He spoils her too much. Next to the dress is a black satin blindfold. She narrows her eyes at the blindfold but quickly changes into the dress.

“What is this for?” she asks, stepping out into the living room with the blindfold in her hands.

“For your eyes. Turn around.”

“Are we roleplaying?” she asks, turning her back to him.

“No,” he laughs, placing the fabric over her eyes. 

He helps her walk to his car and she’s asking him so many questions. He refuses to answer them and laughs at her outlandish predictions of taking her away to a private island. 

His hand is firm in hers when they’re walking to wherever they’re going. She stumbles a little because she doesn’t know the terrain but it feels like pavement under her feet. 

“Are we there yet?” she asks.

“Almost. Okay, there’s a few steps. Up, up, up, up, and last one. Good. Okay, I’m going to take it off you now.”

She feels him move behind her. He unties the blindfold slowly and it drops from her eyes. She blinks slowly to get used to the light and is met with all of their friends and family before her. There’s flower arches behind them and they’re all wearing flower crowns on their heads. 

“SURPRISE!” They shout and she gasps when they start to sing Happy Birthday.

Sarah wheels in a cake with flowers sprawled over it and her name in the middle. Y/N grasps Ashton’s hand in her own, tears forming in her eyes. His other arm wraps around her waist, his chin rests on her shoulder as he sings softly in her ear.

“...dear Y/N...Happy Birthday to you…”

She wipes at her eyes overcome with emotion from the surprise and that Ashton went through all this trouble.

“Make a wish, angel,” he murmurs in her ear.

She closes her eyes, thinks of a wish, and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers and she twists around to give Ashton a big kiss. There’s even more cheers for that and then she’s whisked away for hellos and hugs. Flowers are hanging from the ceiling like vines and she’s never been surrounded by so many flowers. 

“Were you surprised?” Sarah asks as a waiter starts to cut the cake.

“Totally surprised. But my birthday isn’t until tomorrow,” she gives Ashton a side eye.

“You told me you wanted to spend it with me, so your party with everyone else is today,” he smiles. 

“And all these flowers? I love it all so much, thank you.”

“Your eyes will have that shine all night,” he grins, kissing her nose. 

One

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Ashton laughs behind her as they trek through the woods by the cabin.

After her surprise party, on her actual birthday they spent the first half watching movies and the second swimming at the beach. They had a late flight to go to the cabin. Upon arrival, Ashton spent the last hour of her birthday pleasuring her with his mouth and fingers. When the clock struck midnight, she flipped him over with a smirk.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she whispered and slid down his body so she could please him. 

She loves hearing his moans just as much as he loves hearing hers. She loves how one hand is fisted in her hair and the other rests behind his head watching her go down on him. 

“Yes, I know where I’m going. Come on birthday boy.” She ducks under a branch then sees the clearing ahead. 

“I’m twenty-seven, I’m not a boy,” he grunts.

“Sorry, old man,” she teases and he smacks her ass playfully. 

When they come into the clearing, there’s a red and white checkered blanket in the grass with a large basket in the center. Wildflowers surround it in purples, yellows, oranges and a few reds. It’s a magical place. 

“Did you do all this?” he asks seeing the set up. 

“I did. Come on, there’s more.”

They kick off their shoes and sit on the blanket. She opens the basket taking out his favorite foods and a wrapped gift. 

“I told you, you don’t have to get me anything,” he sighs while taking the gift. “You’re more than enough.”

“I know, but it’s part of my love language. And it’s homemade anyway,” she shrugs. “Open it up.”

He unwraps the corners before tearing the paper all the way off. He stares at it in his hands for a long time. She made him a shadow box frame with a picture of them when they were at the beach during sunset. It was their favorite picture and surrounding it were dried flowers. 

“Do you know what these are?” she asks, pointing to the flowers.

“Flowers?” he chuckles touching the glass. 

“This one is from the first flowers you brought me when you helped me move in, these are from our first date, this is from Christmas and the small cranberry. These are from work and my birthday, and these are from Valentine’s Day. These are all the flowers you’ve given me,” she smiles and he looks at her stunned.

“You kept them all?”

“You’re the only one who ever bought me flowers and I loved them all so now you have them, too.”

“This is incredible, I love it. Thank you,” he reaches over to give her a kiss. 

“Wait, there’s more,” she grins and reaches into the basket again. She pulls out live flowers arranged in a pretty bouquet. “These are for you.”

“Baby,” he stressed in astonishment and set the picture frame next to him. 

He pushes her back on the blanket kissing her with all he’s got. The flowers get crushed and some stick in her hair but they’re surrounded by love and the sweet smell of flowers and kiss with passion.

“Happy Birthday my love,” she gazes up at him and sticks a flower behind his ear.

Taglist: @calumance​  @in-superbloom​ @calpalirwin​ @karajaynetoday​ @wiiildflowerrr-blog1​ @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @hoodhoran​ @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sunshineeashton​ @ashtonsunflower​​ @mymindwide​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @seanna313​ @fivesecondsofonedirection​

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It���s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Miss Americana (Part 3)

Summary: The reader recovers from her second dose of Compound V and explores her stronger abilities with Dean. But the events of a fun night out might give Miss Americana and Soldier Boy an unlikely ally...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, implied past torture/assault/killings

A/N: Enjoy this final part! This contains very minor spoilers for The Boys...

______

“Let me hide this stuff and I’ll be back in five, okay?” he asked. You nodded, Dean cupping your cheek before he was gone. It was barely a minute before he was returning, wearing sweats and a henley, a box under his arm. “Brownies from the bakery down the block.”

“I thought you liked pie.”

“I do. But you like brownies,” he said. “Something to look forward to after you spend the night shaking and sweating.”

“Lovely,” you said. He sat down beside you, urging you to lean into him. He tucked a blanket over your legs, watching the fire crackle. “I don’t think I mind if you’re a monster.”

“I can be pretty horrible.”

“You’re not horrible to me. You’ve never been that way. Even if your first instinct was to try to manipulate me you decided not to.”

“I hate most people. Think they’re worthless. Only care about myself.”

“So? I told you when we met...I’m the nice bad guy. I frankly don’t give a fuck anymore about being the pushover, the one that gets hurt. I just want to never be afraid again.”

“We never have to be afraid after tonight. Never,” he said. “You’ll be stronger than Homelander. Stronger than me. You’ll be safe.”

“For a bad guy, you were awfully nice giving me that dose with no strings attached.”

“There’s no strings,” he said. He stroked your arm when you shivered. 

“Partners?” you asked. He leaned down, kissing you more gently than he ever had. No need behind it.

“I like partners,” he said. He was warm as you started to feel cool, Dean drawing shapes on your bare skin. “I had a little brother.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“He got sick right after I shipped out. Died the morning I got my first dose of Compound V. Only reason I volunteered for the shot. They said volunteers got special benefits. I wanted my brother to get to a good hospital and proper care and he was already dead by the time I got my shot. Then uh, then some of us started dying cause they didn’t know dosages or shit. I thought at least Sam’s gonna be okay. Then I spent three days wishing it would kill me so I could be with him instead of having been away for the last year of his life. But I didn’t die. I was the only one. Then they gave me more and...I guess I enjoyed becoming the super soldier over grieving. Then it goes to your head and changes you and...Sammy wouldn’t even recognize me now. At least I know I’m not going to the same place he wound up so he won’t have to see.”

“What was that like, being honest just now,” you asked, goosebumps covering your skin. You bundled into him more, Dean pulling up the blanket.

“I miss Sammy. I haven’t thought about him in years. I hope the kid’s happy wherever he is.”

“Maybe you’ll see him again someday,” you said. You shook, sweat forming all over you, muscles aching. You turned, unable to get comfortable. “How long does this last?”

“About six hours. Then I passed out and when I woke up it was over.”

“Awesome.” You gripped the blanket tight, Dean massaging your tense shoulders. “Tell me more about Sammy. Please.”

“He absolutely hated being called Samuel,” said Dean with a chuckle. “So naturally I did it all the time when we were kids.”

“Keep going,” you said, stomach churning briefly. “Distract me.”

“Let me tell you about the time we jumped off the shed roof.”

You were in sweaty clothes when you woke, lifting your head off Dean’s chest to find him passed out and snoring lightly. You sat up, shaking out your head. Something was different. You stood, deciding to test out flying first. You yelped when you nearly hit the ceiling, freezing and plopping straight down onto the couch and Dean.

He groaned awake, peeling open his eyes to find you hovering above him.

“Sweetheart I’m all for a little rough in the bedroom but not a full body tackle awake,” he said. You moved to the side, the motion second nature quickly but it required much less effort than before. You looked around, nothing in the room heavy enough to test your strength. Dean sat up, smirking as he looked at you. “Wanna arm wrestle?”

“Yes!” you said, Dean chuckling, groggily taking a seat at the counter. You stood on the other side of the island, Dean clasping your hand.

“Let’s go,” he said. You squeezed, Dean keeping up with you for a good few seconds before he started to go down fast. You heard the counter creek and then it was breaking, Dean backing up. 

“Uh,” you said. 

“Don’t worry about it. What do you expect when you got supes in the place? But you, you’re stronger. Stronger than me,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Very good. I um, I’d like to go fly. I think I might be faster.”

“Go for it. I’ll call someone to get this fixed. Just be careful. Try not to fly into any planes.”

“I’ll do my best, Soldier Boy.”

“Again?” asked Dean that night. You flew up high and smiled, Dean letting go of you, free falling a few seconds before you dove down and caught him. He giggled and you flew higher, Dean jumping off. You could heard him laughing and went down, something hitting you on the way. You threw a punch and arms released you, Dean holding on tight when you finally caught up with him. You both looked up and glared, a cape and pair of red eyes looking down. “You do realize the fall won’t kill me.”

“Probably not. But it’d be fun to try,” said Homelander. He floated down to your level, your arm tight around Dean’s waist. “Oh relax. I won’t touch your boy toy again.”

“I thought I said to stay the fuck away from us,” you growled.

“I just thought you’d like to know that Soldier Boy’s internal file will be released to the major news outlets tomorrow. Did you know-”

You grabbed his neck with your free hand, squeezing hard, Homelander pawing at your wrist.

“Any good reasons why I shouldn’t kill him?” you asked Dean.

“None come to mind,” said Dean, Homelander’s eyes red but fading as he choked for air.

“Feel free to speak up,” you said, gripping his neck even tighter. 

“Stop,” said a voice, the three of you turning towards a small drone hovering close by. “Let him go.”

“He tried to kill Soldier Boy,” you said, holding on tight. You didn’t even see the drone shoot out the darts, the three of you hit. You instantly dropped Homelander, flying down to the roof of Vought as soon as you could, Dean out cold already and you quickly joining him.

You woke up on the couch in Edgar’s office, no sign of Dean or Homelander. Everything felt off still as you sat up, Mr. Edgar suddenly sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” you groaned, stretching out. “What the hell was that?”

“If you’re going to act like children, we’ll treat you like them.”

“Dean and I were having fun, minding our own business-”

“Dean and you stole Compound V for your own benefit. I thought you were going to be more understanding of this arrangement.”

“I have to be stronger than Homelander and now I am. We didn’t hurt anybody to get it. You people let him do whatever the fuck he wanted so get off your high horse.”

“We understand. But you can’t kill him.”

“Why the fuck not.”

“He brings value in, even not as part of the Seven. Miss Americana and Soldier Boy can take over the leadership roles and Homelander is to be left alone.”

“He wants to kill-”

“I said to leave it be.” You stood, glaring down at him. “If an incident like this occurs again, there will be consequences. Dismissed.”

“Gonna throw us back in a hole? That’s kinda your thing isn’t it.”

“We know how to deal with problem children, even supe ones,” he said, standing up. “Back off before all three of you are worth more dead than alive. Don’t make me dismiss you again.”

You stormed out, slamming the door after you, not bothering to look back when you heard the wood splinter. You went straight to Dean’s apartment, Dean unscathed inside. But Homelander standing there, neither of them actively trying to kill the other, that was more than enough to forget your anger for the moment.

“You okay?” asked Dean, stepping over to grab your hand. You hummed, looking Homelander up and down. “You got the same message we did I’m guessing.”

“Behave or we’re all fucked. Yeah. Why the hell is he here?”

“We were spoken to at the same time. While he’s still a psycho and has some major fucked up issues, he has a different idea,” said Dean. 

“Said the mass murderer.” Homelander rolled his eyes. “We all want to be in charge of the Seven. Be the best.”

“You shoved your hand down my pants,” you growled.

“True. But enemies can work together when they have a larger, common enemy, hm?”

“Edgar,” said Dean. “He wants to wipe out Edgar. Ashley is the next logical choice and we can control her. She wouldn’t do jack shit to us.”

“Remove Edgar from the equation and we can all get along. Maybe form a little, trio, best of the best. Still part of the Seven but top dogs. Vought would eat that shit up. Behind the scenes you two fuck or whatever it is you do. Publicly, we’re the strongest go America team there ever was. The soldier from a simpler time, the soldier who fought the terrorists and defend her country, and the everyday man who protects his fellow citizens. All walks of life, all the basis covered. Between the three of us our numbers are sky high in every single demographic.”

“What’s to stop us from killing each other after Edgar is out of the picture,” you said.

“You’re strong enough to kill me. But your little boyfriend can’t fly. You come after me, I’ll drop him in the ocean. Leave me alone, I leave you two alone and we all win,” said Homelander. “Deal?”

“What do you think?” you asked Dean. 

“Lesser of two evils. I think,” said Dean. “I say we give it a chance to see if we can get Edgar out.”

“Fine. We can discuss this more tomorrow. Oh and Homelander. I ever catch you in my or Dean’s apartment again, I’ll snap your neck. Deal or no deal.”

“If you were only a little more twisted we could have had something,” he said. He nodded and left, Dean letting out a deep breath when he was gone. 

“Y/N,” said Dean. You hummed, wrapping your arms around him. “Thanks. For catching me earlier.”

“I’m sure you would have been fine.”

“Probably but I don’t want to test that theory out. If he dropped me in the ocean...I still need to breathe. We have to play nice.”

“We will. Until we don’t have to,” you said. He smirked, kissing your lips. “He tried to kill you. Now I hate him even more. As soon as we can, he’s gone.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned.

“Yes I am and you, you’re my Soldier Boy. We’re going to own this place, very, very soon.”

“Damn straight we are sweetheart. Just a little bit longer and then we can do whatever we want to. Promise.”

_________

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (v)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of poor parenting and damaged familial relationships

series masterpost: here

a/n: and just like that we're halfway through!!! it's crazy to think about it. however, lots happens in this chapter so buckle up peeps

Soon Magdalene’s feelings are going to get the better of her.

She knows she’s heading down a dangerous path but she can’t help it. Ryan is like a drug she can’t get enough of even though she knows it will hurt her in the long run. Living with him has opened her up to the laid back, intelligent, incredibly funny man he is and Magdalene doesn’t know how she’s ever going to function in her own space ever again. They complement each other like two peas in a pod, and everyone else is starting to catch on to the shift in their relationship.

“When are you going to fess up to Ryan about your feelings?” Bette asks as the two of them sit on the lawn across from the university library. It’s mid October, but the weather is still warm enough that Magdalene eats her lunch outside. Her best friend decided to join her today, no doubt knowing that she’s feeling a little lonely. The Avalanche are in the middle of their season opening road trip and have been gone for nearly five days. Ryan’s condo feels empty without him in it, and Magdalene misses him an unfathomable amount.

“Never, if I can help it,” she replies casually, taking a bite of the turkey wrap that Bette brought her from Barn Owl.

The blonde scoffs. “Fuck off. You have to. What are you going to do when he gets back from Florida and you tackle him as soon as he steps through the door.”

“Caligula will get there first,” Magdalene shrugs. “Those two are thick as thieves.”

Truthfully, Magdalene wasn’t sure what she was going to do. This is the longest they’ve been separated since she moved in and it’s proving to be a harder adjustment than she thought. Magdalene feels a little silly missing him so much – she went nearly twenty-six years without knowing Ryan but now he’s imprinted on her soul for the rest of eternity. Living without him seems impossible.

Bette drops the conversation then, almost as if she knows Magdalene is in her own world thinking about what to do. She mentions the upcoming home opener and her plans to attend with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends. “We’re going out beforehand and you should join us! I really think you’d like most of them.”

The bell in the clock tower rings, signalling the start of another hour, and Magdalene promises she’ll consider the offer as they pack up the picnic and say goodbye. It’s a short walk back to the building she works in, seeing as they were only across the street, but it takes a while for the elevator to come around. Magdalene could have taken the stairs down to the basement but they scare her a lot more than she’d like to admit. Hopefully June won’t mind her being a few minutes late.

Her boss doesn’t look too pleased when Magdalene strolls through the door almost seven minutes later then she should have, but as soon as she tosses the cookie Bette brought her in June’s direction all is forgiven. They work in near silence all afternoon, background noise provided by the small stereo in the corner and their respective grunts of frustration when an image doesn’t digitize properly. The university has finally decided to undertake the massive project of making all their school records available to the public online, and Magdalene and June are in charge of getting all the files ready before sending them to IT for installation into the website. It’s a huge task and is going to take them the better part of a month and a half to finish. Magdalene spends the rest of her work day finishing up a box of graduation records from the 1870s and leaves smelling of very old paper.

On the drive home she considers the invitation Bette extended to her. Magdalene knows she’ll be attending the game, having promised Ryan before he left that she’d be there, but she doesn’t know how to feel about going out for dinner and drink beforehand – especially with people so involved with the team. She isn’t like them, in nearly every sense of the phrase, and doesn’t want people to get the wrong idea. It wouldn’t be fair to Ryan for people to assume they’re together in case he ever does want to bring someone around, but Magdalene can’t help thinking that the speculation wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps it would be the clue that shows him how she feels.

The invite stays in the back of her brain while she heats up leftovers and eats quickly, knowing that Ryan will call soon. He’s like clockwork with his precise game day routine, and he always calls shortly after four o’clock when out east. Magdalene’s phone buzzes from the spot beside her on the couch and she quickly scoops it up and accepts the call.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless because she’s so excited to talk to him.

“Hey yourself. How was work?” Magdalene can tell Ryan’s got a smile on his face even though she can’t see him. She indulges the question, telling him all about the stuff she digitized and what’s next. Though she always tries to get out of talking about work, fearing it will bore the daylights out of him, Ryan insists on hearing every detail Magdalene wants to share. He finds it all fascinating and tells her so every chance he gets. During her monologue Caligula wanders over and becomes extremely invested after he hears Ryan laugh at something Magdalene said. The small white cat jumps onto Magdalene’s lap and tries to paw the phone away from her ear.

“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Little boots would like to talk.”

At the sound of Ryan’s greeting, Caligula starts meowing up a storm. It’s as though he’s actually holding a conversation with the man, waiting for Ryan to say something before he continues to make noise. Magdalene laughs through what could barely classify as a conversation until the cat gives her space to talk again.

“So,” she says, drawing out the word in an attempt to make Ryan laugh. “Bette asked me to join her and some of the other girls for drinks before Friday’s game.”

Ryan’s responding before Magdalene has finished uttering the last words. “That’s great! I think you should go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, “It would be nice for you to know someone other than Bette.”

Magdalene is surprised at the response, but tries her hardest to keep her tone light and teasing. “Why, you plan on keeping me around Mr. Graves?” She can tell Ryan is struggling to come up with an answer because there’s a fair amount of sputtering on the other end of the line.

“I’d be stupid to let you go.”

All the breath in Magdalene’s lungs escapes her. She didn’t expect him to say something like that, and it sends her mind reeling. What does he mean? Unable to process the comment, Magdalene makes up an excuse and hangs up as quickly as possible. She spends the rest of the night wondering if Ryan was trying to make a move and deciding how she should handle his homecoming in a few days.

☼☼☼☼

When Ryan gets home Thursday morning Magdalene is at work. Caligula is happy to see him, practically pouncing on him and purring so loud Ryan’s sure the neighbours heard the cat. For an animal so small, Caligula can make a lot of noise if he wants.

“Hi boy,” Ryan coos, adjusting his grip on the cat so he doesn’t get dropped while the two of them move around the house. “Did your mom talk about me while I was gone? Been thinking about her a lot lately.”

The cat doesn’t respond, of course, but Ryan finds comfort in vocalizing his emotions. Multiple times on the road trip Tyson made fun of him for the silent pining he’s found himself participating in since Magdalene moved in, and hinted that she might have said something to Bette. Neither of them are great at keeping secrets, but Ryan also knows they want him and Magdalene to get together and aren’t above manipulation to achieve their goals. He doesn’t know how Magdalene actually feels, but Ryan isn’t willing to risk losing their friendship. Just a couple of months ago she sat on the deck of the lake house and told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship – he has to assume that’s still her position because if he doesn’t Ryan isn’t quite sure what he’ll unleash. Though the two of them are close, closer than most friends, Magdalene stills keeps a lot of things to herself and Ryan doesn’t want to pry. When, and if, she’s ready he knows she’ll come to him.

Exhausted from the countless hours of travel he’s endured over the past few days and the pains that come along with being a professional athlete, Ryan falls back onto the couch cushions. He hurts in places he didn’t know existed and wants to do nothing but sleep. Caligula settles into his stomach, purring contently, and though he knows he should unpack his gear, Ryan can’t find the energy to move himself or the cat. Everything will still be there when he wakes up, and hopefully Magdalene will be on her way home. She texted Ryan earlier in the morning, no doubt just before she headed out the door, to say that she was taking some holidays to have a long weekend and would be home around noon. Sleep comes easy with Caligula nestled against his body, and Ryan dreams of Magdalene as he frequently does.

☼☼☼☼

Despite Bette telling her countless times she shouldn’t be, Magdalene is nervous. The significant others of the Colorado Avalanche are a tight knit group and are very particular with who they let in. Magdalene is a nothing, has no true connections to the team besides being Tyson’s girlfriend’s best friend, and she’s worried she won’t make the cut. If it wasn’t for Bette picking her up in the morning Magdalene would have found a way to get out of drinks, but the blonde made sure she couldn’t make a run for it.

Sitting in the elevated booth, she not-so-casually sips her glass of wine while Bette tries to calm her down. “They’re going to hate me,” she groans, lowering her head to rest it on the table.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bette counters. “You literally know most of them, and Livy will be here if you get too uncomfortable, but most of them were at EJ’s back in May.”

Magdalene can’t argue with the truth, so she rolls her eyes and finishes her drink. By the time she flags down the waiter for a refill the other girls have arrived. They take turns hugging Bette and shuffling into their seats. Magdalene feels awkward with no one acknowledging her, but she does her best to buck up and deal with it. It means a lot to Bette, and Ryan, that she’s here trying to make friends so she’ll at least make an effort.

A blonde who looks a little older than the rest addresses her first. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Mel. I think we met last season at a game.”

It takes Magdalene a second to recall the face, but then she recognizes Mel as the person who alerted her to the fight Ryan got into to defend Tyson. “Oh yeah,” she chuckles, though it’s still got a nervous quality, “You’re the one who was yelling about Ryan’s fight.”

Everyone looks at her like Magdalene had confessed to seeing a ghost. “What’s the matter?”

“No one ever calls him that,” a petite girl with tight curls explains. “We all just call him Gravy.”

“Oh.”

Magdalene isn’t sure what the comment is supposed to mean, or if it even meant anything at all, but she does her best to push it aside because Livy is trying to catch up with her. The rest of the outing goes well – Magdalene keeps quiet until someone gives an inaccurate analogy about Rome and she has to correct them. It may make her seem stuck up, but she really hates when people spread misinformation. Everyone laughs, and after that it’s hard for Magdalene to stay silent. She talks about work and college, but when someone asks about home she shuts down. Bette notices the shift in her behaviour before Magdalene’s face has even dropped, and shifts the conversation in another direction. Soon it’s a respectable time to head to the arena and they all pay their tabs, Magdalene going first and then ducking out of the bar that became crowded while they were sitting down.

The fresh air feels good against her skin, and she takes the time alone to regulate her thoughts. There’s still several hours until she can return home and cry in the shower over the mention of her family so it’s important to present a calm facade. Bette comes out slightly ahead of the other girls and checks in with her friend, but Magdalene assures her she’s okay. It was a bit of a spook, but the other girls have no idea about how fucked up her familial situation is so Magdalene can’t hold it against them. The arena is a few blocks over, so the group walks towards it at a brisk pace. Magdalene’s mind is still churning from the bar when they step inside, so she peels off from the rest of the group. Warm ups are about to start and she knows that seeing Ryan will help to calm her down, at least until they can go home and she can sequester herself away from the rest of the world.

She finds a space against the glass and strains her eyes for her new favourite number. Ryan hasn’t made it out on the ice yet, but Tyson gives her a big wave when he skates past. It takes a few seconds, though it feels like years, but Ryan eventually steps out, all long limbs and hair and dazzling smile as his teammates give him big hi-fives. Magdalene doesn’t want to intrude but she needs to spend a few moments with him to feel completely present. When he skates by she waves shyly, and Ryan doubles back once he realizes who it is.

“There’s my favourite girl!” he shouts over the crowd, making sure Magdalene can hear.

The phrase brings a smile to her face, which in turn makes Ryan light up more. “Hi Ry,” she yells back. “I just wanted to come and say hi.”

Ryan’s heart warms at her words, but he knows that’s not the only reason. He’s lived with her long enough to know that something is bothering her but he isn’t going to push. There isn’t much time to have a conversation, so Ryan takes the time to make plans for after the game. “You riding home with me?”

Magdalene nods. “Yeah. Bette picked me up this morning so I didn’t drive.”

The loud sound of sticks clapping against the ice startles them both, and it’s Ryan’s teammate’s way of getting him to refocus. Magdalene says goodbye and before Ryan heads back to the bench he flips a puck over the glass for her. She smiles brightly, and watches him skate away. On her way up the stairs she hands it to a little girl wearing a much too big Graves jersey. It makes her night, and Magdalene returns to the private box she’s watching the game from feeling much lighter than when she entered the arena.

☼☼☼☼

Later, much later, after all of Ryan’s post game media and sitting through the traffic of downtown, Magdalene opens up about what was bothering her at the arena. The two of them are curled up in Ryan’s bed buried under a mass of blankets with several pillows strewn about. It’s become a frequent place for them to spend time, and every time they lay down Magdalene rests her head on Ryan’s chest and he keeps her in place with his arms wrapped tightly around her. Magdalene’s clutching his hoodie tighter than usual, her voice small as she speaks into the darkness of the room.

“I didn’t just want to say hi earlier.”

Ryan isn’t surprised by her confession, but wants to know what caused the surprise visit. “No? What was it?”

Magdalene lift head and shifts to face him, propping herself up with an open palm. “It’s kind of stupid,” she mumbles, feeling dumb for even bringing it up. Ryan doesn’t want to know the sob story that is her past life. “But it’s mostly okay now.”

“You don’t have to tell me, and I don’t want to push, but I think getting it off your chest will help,” he whispers, feeling like talking in a normal voice could startle the girl in front of him.

He’s right – Magdalene knows it. Telling someone the truth, as much of the truth as she can share, other than Bette would do her some good. Her therapist once said Magdalene needed to work on letting people in, and she figures there’s no one better than Ryan. “One of the girls asked me about home when we were getting drinks, and it’s just a really sore subject for me. I shut down and just needed to see you to ground myself.” Ryan goes to talk, but Magdalene continues. “No one really knows, but I left for Denver as soon as I graduated high school. My parents weren’t the greatest, and I suffered a lot emotionally at home. When I told them I was leaving, they told me never to come back and we haven’t spoken since. So yeah, that’s pretty much it. And I just needed to see you to remind myself that I’m okay without my family. You’re part of my family now, the one that really matters.”

Ryan is speechless. “Oh bug,” he sighs, heart hurting for all the pain Magdalene has experienced in her life. “I’m so sorry.” He wants to scream for her, maybe even break something, but all his anger dissipates when he looks down and sees her crying. Silently, Ryan wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb and holds Magdalene until she stops trembling. They lay in silence for a while, sitting with the weight of the confession she just made. At some point Caligula shuffles in and finds a spot at Ryan’s side that isn’t occupied by Magdalene. The three of them feel like a little family, and it’s too good for Magdalene not to do something about.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s never been so confident while asking a question. Magdalene knows he wants to kiss Ryan, has known for a while, and after baring her soul to him it seems like an appropriate time to take the plunge. They’ve never truly been just friends and everyone around them, including themselves, knows it.

“Mags,” Ryan says in a gentle yet stern voice, “I’m not gonna kiss you. You’ve just been very vulnerable with me, which I appreciate, and though I really really want to fucking kiss you I’m going to take advantage of you like that.”

If it were possible, Magdalene’s heart would expand so much it would be close to bursting. “I promise this is what I want and that I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. So please shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”

She leans forward to connect their lips, and it feels like a fire has been ignited in her veins. Ryan is soft and gentle with the right amount of grit to make Magdalene weak in the knees. They move in tandem, giving and taking where necessary, and by the time they pull apart for air Magdalene thinks she’ll never be able to kiss anyone other than Ryan. When he looks at her, eyes kind and glimmering with light, Magdalene is certain kissing other people is off the table.

Neither of them make an effort to talk about what just happened or what it means. Instead, Magdalene kisses him again, and again, and keeps going until she’s completely out of breath. There’s no protest from Ryan, and he looks as blissful as Magdalene feels. She rests her head on his chest again and he cards his fingers through her hair as they sit in the comfortable silence that surrounds them.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene keeps kissing Ryan, and he keeps kissing her. It’s always in the safety of his apartment, oftentimes with Caligula in the way, but wholesome and loving and warm. They haven’t defined their relationship, and truthfully Magdalene is glad. She likes being friends with Ryan and doesn’t know how the added pressures of dating would affect them – though she might like kissing him more than just being friends.

It becomes routine for either of them to reach for a kiss before heading to the door. Magdalene gets one every time she leaves for work, and if she’s there before Ryan has to leave for games he’s pulled into her lips by his tie. It’s fun and it’s new and Magdalene never wants it to end. She keeps the secret for a couple weeks, but eventually it becomes too much to hold in and she tells Bette one Saturday when they meet for brunch at Barn Owl because the boys are away.

“I kissed Ryan.” It’s out of her mouth like a bullet, cutting through the air and ringing out. Bette is shocked, jaw dropping, only to open further when Magdalene corrects herself. “Been kissing Ryan, actually.”

“You’re fucking joking,” Bette laughs, still not one hundred percent sure Magdalene is being serious. When the brunette nods her head, she squeals in what can only be presumed as delight. “Shut up! Tell me everything!”

Magdalene indulges her friend, and spills every detail she’s willing to share. Part of her wants to keep a bit of her life with Ryan a secret so she does, but Bette is more than willing to work with the information given. She listens carefully while Magdalene talks and waits until there’s nothing more to say before diving into a long list of reasons why kissing Ryan is the best thing that’s ever happened to her friend. Magdalene isn’t sure that it’s great because Bette will always have someone to go to games with, but she is in agreement that it is one of the best choices she’s ever made. They spend the rest of the morning giggling like school girls over potential love and Magdalene heads back to Ryan’s place feeling light and airy.

☼☼☼☼

The first thing Ryan does when he comes home is kisses Magdalene. She’s sitting on the couch with Caligula on her lap reading a book, and he doesn’t even bother to drop his bags on the floor before leaning over the worn leather and connecting their lips. It feels heavenly after the days-long absence and Magdalene chases his lips when Ryan pulls away.

“I missed you.”

They’re three words that shouldn’t mean much, but coming from him they send Magdalene spiralling. He missed her? The girl who spends her days geeking out over old documents and talks to her cat? Regardless of how true the statement is she appreciates it, because Magdalene missed Ryan more than she could ever explain.

“How was the flight home?” she asks, twirling a lock of his hair around her index finger and pulling him down for another kiss. Ryan happily obliges, and kisses her until Caligula begins to meow for attention. The cat practically launches himself into Ryan’s arms as he rounds the corner to sit down next to Magdalene, and purrs loudly at being reunited with the tall man.

Ryan laughs at the animal’s antics before wrapping his spare arm around Magdalene and pulling her close. “It was fine. We hit a bit of turbulence that made it hard to sleep but I managed,” he replies, and reaches for the television remote. Magdalene hums in response, resting her head on Ryan’s shoulder and returning her attention to the book in her hands. It’s silent except for the low buzz of the television as Ryan reviews tape, but neither of them mind. Co-existing is enough for both of them, and it’s peaceful and easy. The occasional conversation occurs but they mostly do their own thing, enjoying the feeling of being together again. More than a few kisses are shared, and Magdalene eventually pries herself away from Ryan long enough to make dinner.

They stayed glued to each other until Magdalene falls asleep. Ryan doesn’t even notice when it happens, but eventually he tries to leave the couch to get a glass of water and finds dead weight on top of him in the shape of the girl he just might love. Magdalene’s snoring softly, and he’s positive there is nothing more adorable in the entire world. A glance at the clock on the wall alerts Ryan to the fact that he should go to bed too, and he begins to brainstorm how to get Magdalene into bed without waking her. She’s been exhausted lately, working extended hours, and he knows she needs all the rest she can get.

It takes a few moments to coordinate, but Ryan gets himself upright without Magdalene realizing she’s no longer using him as a pillow. Gently he scoops her into his arms and pads down the hallway, careful not to hit her ankles on the walls or door frames. Once inside her room, Ryan tucks Magdalene into bed and makes sure her phone is on the nightstand just where she likes it. She looks so content in sleep that he can’t help but lean down and press a shirt kiss to her forehead.

“Night Mags,” he whispers into the dark, wondering if she’ll wake and hear all the adoration his voice holds.

Magdalene stirs at the noise, and opens her eyes to see Ryan’s retreating figure. “Night Ry.”

It’s late, approaching two in the morning, when Magdalene’s phone starts ringing off the hook. Though Ryan has told her multiple times that she doesn’t need to turn her sound on before she goes to bed, she can never find it in her to heed his words. What if there’s an emergency somewhere and some hospital has to get a hold of her? Magdalene would never be able to forgive herself if she was too late because she slept through the incoming calls.

Despite her underlying fears of missing something important, Magdalene considers letting it go to voicemail. She’s exhausted, between the high maintenance projects at work and trying her hardest to go to every Avalanche home game she can, and if it’s urgent she’s sure the person will call again if they need her. It rings three more times before Magdalene decides to pick it up – if only to stop the incessant noise.

Not bothering to even see who’s calling at such an ungodly hour, Magdalene speaks in a sleep-laden voice that betrays what she was doing not even a minute prior. “Hello?”

Bette answers her, offering a quick but sincere apology for the time but explaining that it couldn’t wait. Magdalene groans in contempt, thinking that it most certainly could have waited a few more hours. She doesn’t voice her opinion however, instead waiting for her friend to spill whatever news was making her bounce up and down on the other side of the line.

She’s about to hang up when Bette utters a sentence Magdalene’s been waiting for but never thought she’d hear at one fifty-seven am. “I’m getting married!”

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlouisbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster @rapidfever @bb-nhlqueen7 (add yourself to the taglist!)

[fyeah-bangtan7]

Jung Kook: “I think we’d better not ever stop”

We asked Jung Kook to draw anything he wanted for the photoshoot. The photos featured in this article are snapshots while Jung Kook was at work. Even when the photoshoot was finished, he left the studio only when he completed his drawing.

“Butter” has been at the top of the Billboard Hot 100 chart for six weeks straight. (This interview took place on July 12) Jung Kook: I was never attached to rankings, but as good as it is and as happy as I am since we’ve kept setting records since “Dynamite,” it also feels like a burden.

Is it because you’ve been successful beyond anything you could’ve imagined? Jung Kook: Sort of. A huge number of people have given me recognition, so I’ve been going along thinking I have to work harder, but we did even better with “Butter” than with “Dynamite,” so I think I ended up feeling weighed down. That’s what I’m like. BTS is an amazing team, but maybe my problem is that I’m not able to keep up with BTS.

You were the one to set the mood for “Butter” by singing the intro to the song. Didn’t that make you feel good? You were definitely as amazing as the team itself. (laughs) Jung Kook: “Butter” just feels so good. It’s different from our usual style, so it felt different while recording. The song’s great, too. I love that, but it’s separate from that feeling of pressure. I mean, I hope BTS does even better, honestly. Lately I’ve been thinking that that pressure means I need to do better. After “Dynamite” became number one on the Billboard Hot 100, it’s not like we’re being forced to try harder; it’s just my personal ambition. I think I can do better.

Why do you think “Dynamite” wasn’t as satisfying? Jung Kook: Because I couldn’t express everything I wanted the way I wanted to. When I listen to the remixes, I think about how I could’ve sung it differently. Like, “Aw, man! If only I could do it again!” (laughs) I got some things from singing “Dynamite,” like, I’m not quite there yet. So I try to practice singing at least an hour every day, no matter what. Any singer who’s been at number one on Billboard for six weeks had better be really good at singing. That’s what I think.

Something about the way you sang in English probably made you hear your own singing in a new light. Your tone is different from when you sing in Korean. Jung Kook: Sometimes you have to bear down a little on your words to talk in Korean. Plus I’m from Busan, so I speak in a little bit of a low voice. I don’t have that when I use English, though, so it’s like there’s pros and cons. It’s easy to use your head voice when you sing in English as well, but it can be uncomfortable, while in Korean, if you try to sing higher using your head voice, it can sound a bit nasally sometimes. But at the same time, it can be hard to break old habits when I sing in English since I’ve always been singing in Korean.

“Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” are all English songs and you were in charge of the introduction for all three. It seems like you put some thought into how to create different impressions for each song. Jung Kook: “Butter’s” really bouncy, as you know. It’s a little deep, it’s got a driving beat, it’s rhythmical. And before I record, I listen to a recording with guide vocals, and then when I go to record, I have to keep all these characteristics in mind and mix them together with my own style properly in this subtle way. I think it’s seriously an intuition. (laughs) I had a hard time when we were recording, obviously, and when I first did it, my voice didn’t sound right, so I had to keep looking for the right voice. I think the most important thing is to really nail the voice you want to use first, and so is figuring out how to make it your own. In “Permission to Dance,” for instance, I sang it more the way I wanted than the style the guide vocals had.

How do you come to that kind of conclusion? Jung Kook: Everyone’s voice has to sound different, so it can be overpowering if I copy the guide too much when I sing. So sometimes I follow what I’m thinking of exclusively. I was thinking about how I should sing the first part of “Permission to Dance,” and when I went to record it, even Pdogg, the producer, told me, “It’ll work best if you go with your own voice, your own style.”

What effect does listening to so many other artists’ songs and analyzing them have on you? Jung Kook: The more I listen to music, the more my vocals change. It really changes a lot when we get a song and listen to it and practice it. I guess you could say my vocal cords are always readying themselves for improvement when I practice. (laughs) And improving while I record, and just improving any time I sing. But there’s also times when it suddenly doesn’t sound right when I try it the way I want, so I just give it a try, or I quickly look up other vocalists and listen to their songs or ask some of the older artists. Doing that helps me find a certain voice I’m looking for.

You sang uncannily similar to SUGA when you briefly sang his part in “Life Goes On” over V LIVE, even though your voices are different. You’re quick at picking up on the characteristics of others’ vocals. Jung Kook: I used to rely on that a lot. Like, I can hear [the characteristics in their voices] at least. (laughs) Now, though, it’s like, Oh, [I] guess I shouldn’t do it that way. You can safely assume I’ve heard a countless number of other singers’ songs. Then I would think a lot about how I want to sing, thinking how those other singers would sing, before making my own voice. I carry over those people’s voices and vocal patterns and think about how it would sound if they sang in this room, then I think about how it would sound in my own voice, and then sometimes I can make my voice sound similar if I try to.

It seems like it was important for you to find your own style for the performances as well. Not only were the three English songs different from your earlier work, but there were also a lot of parts in “Butter” that you could only perform through gestures and facial expressions. Jung Kook: Before “Butter,” I just worked really hard, and had fun doing it, in whatever way I wanted but starting with “Butter” I think I managed to do things in a more thought-out way. I was more attentive to my facial expressions and movements and thought through what I should do in each situation in each performance to do it in my own style. And it was kind of a fun process. I don’t feel any pressure about that; I just thought I can create that kind of image if I just try to be a little cool and not cringey (laugh) for people from now on.

What image do you want people to have of you, as an artist? One that says, This is who I am as an artist right now. Jung Kook: I don’t think I’m at the level where I need to worry about that yet. I have a general idea about what kind of singer I want to be and what I want to be really good at, but I don’t think I’ve ever imagined defining myself as a certain type of singer yet. Because it’s an ongoing process, when I can prove myself, then, bam!—I give proof and become a truly influential person, only then can I go around saying, This is the kind of singer I am. For now, I don’t have anything, I guess you could say, “substantial” to show off. I think, Even if I’m part of BTS and tour stadiums, does that automatically make me better than other artists? And then, by thinking so, I center myself again.

Couldn’t you be a little softer on yourself? Jung Kook: No. I have to think about the future many times throughout the day. For example, sometimes I spend a whole day doing whatever, but whenever I do, I regret it severely. So I promise myself that I’ll get this and that done. That’s how I live, because if I don’t think that way, I won’t jump into action to get anything done. It’s like the title of our song, “Life Goes On”: the treadmill just keeps on going, and we’re on it, so I always think, I’d better not ever stop. I can express myself better if I think while I talk, and I can organize my thoughts while reflecting back on what I said. I try to think about everything in that way. I think I need to improve, whether it’s at singing or my hobbies—more than now, better than now.

Are you doing particularly well with any of your hobbies these days? It seems like you got a little better at painting, judging by your vlog. Jung Kook: I think I’m getting better overall, little by little. My vocals are where I’ve definitely improved lately. And bowling! (laughs) I learn how to paint by watching videos on YouTube. I think I’m good at picking up skills by emulating others. I’m actually not good at learning things. (laughs) I just like to do what I like to do and I naturally learn from the people around me, I guess. And I think the things I really want to learn are still the same: singing, English, exercise.

Learning from other people and wanting to do better is a form of recognizing who you can compare yourself against. Are you at all influenced by the other members? You’ve talked a lot about how much you’ve been influenced by the six older members. Jung Kook: I think I started paying attention to people other than myself after I moved to Seoul and met the other members. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings, but I do notice them now. It’s like I really started to see myself for who I am from that point on.

That makes me think of when you talked about seeing the sights in Seoul for the first time on tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, the way you got to know the feelings the outside world can give. Jung Kook: The first time I saw the streets of Seoul, they were enormous. I was really worried, since I’d just come to Seoul, and I got to know myself because of the change of environment. I think it was the very first time for me to think for myself, and it became the starting point for me to get to know myself.

When you took some candy you liked from the BTS pop-up store, j-hope said you were still the same from when you first met when you were 13 years old. Do you think you haven’t changed at all compared to back then? Jung Kook: In some way I must be better or different on the outside, but I’m sure there’s still things about me that are the same as when I was 13. I learned how to be considerate towards the other members and how to understand them because I fought with them occasionally, but nobody’s going to stop me if I take candy. I take it like I always did. Like when Hobi and I fought over a single banana. (laughs)

But what’s changed about you, then? Being a member of BTS must have had an effect on your view of the world. You sought understanding from your vegetarian viewers when you were eating meat in a salad on V LIVE before. Jung Kook: I thought to ask because I know that many people abroad, and in Korea, too, are vegetarians. It’s one of the things you learn when you tour around many different countries. Obviously I don’t know about every single country’s culture or personal identities or choices, so even though I have a long way to go, I think it’s important to respect them based on what I do know.

I think you must know that you’ve had an influence on a lot of people. Partway into your V LIVE, you talked about how you couldn’t find any of the kombucha you drank before anymore because it was all sold out and you thanked your fans for giving a little help to small business owners. Jung Kook: Restaurants aren’t doing well and there’s a lot of closed-up shops in the markets now, as you know. So if I’ve had an effect on even one person, it’s been worthwhile. And sometimes the people I’ve had an influence on go on to make donations, too. There could always be someone who takes advantage of the things I say or do, but I’m confident a lot of people will use them for good.

This influence is something you’ve crafted with your fandom, ARMY. I imagine you’ve been influenced not only by the other members but also by ARMY since you were young. Jung Kook: There’s a lot going on inside a concert venue: the lighting, the stage, the floor, the stage design, the video projected on the screen. Plus there’s the music, the dancing, and us. Even if they’re all in balance, ARMY has to be there to complete the scene. When it comes to our concerts, ARMY are the ones who bought the tickets and they’re the main characters. I think everything we focus on comes back down to ARMY. We share in each other’s feelings and they’re the source of our strength, and I think they have synergy with us. It’s not enough to just say ARMY and us like each other, or that we love each other. There’s definitely more to it than that. It’s, well—I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words. (laughs)

I think you need ARMY to be there at the concert for you to fully realize the concert you’re aiming for. Jung Kook: Yes, exactly! Even if everything’s set up and we’re in front of the camera, if ARMY’s not there, it’s a completely different concert. Even when ARMY’s there and there’s a live camera broadcasting it, I’m like, There’s a camera? Sure. Obviously I care about it when I have to say hello to ARMY sitting on the other side, in front of their screens. Other than that, I get all my energy from all the ARMY sitting right in front of me. That’s how much they mean to me. It’s completely different.

The concept for BTS 2021 MUSTER SOWOOJOO was similar to being in concert with an audience. It must’ve made you think of ARMY even more. Jung Kook: I’m seriously good as long as I can perform. I can put on more and more concerts in the space of a year if we’re touring. I felt it more profoundly this time since we couldn’t perform with an audience. Wow, I really took things for granted all this time. I should’ve done more.

You must be disappointed. It’s your time to shine as a vocalist and as a performer. Jung Kook: (sighs) I, well, I really need to hurry up and make a mixtape, first of all. (laughs)

How’s your mixtape going? Jung Kook: I was working on it just before I came. But it’s hard! (laughs) I could just make it about myself, and then it would be like, I started as a trainee when I was 13, I worked hard, and found success. But anyone could do that. So I keep thinking I want to make up my own original, complex story and write the songs from there. Billie Eilish’s debut album left a big mark on me when it came out, in that respect. And it’d be nice to have a cohesive flow to the tracklist, but even if it’s all jumbled up, that’s fine, too, as long the good songs keep on coming. That’s sort of what I’m thinking. So these days, rather than focusing on the album’s story as a whole, I’m just going to write whatever it is I want to say in each song. If I get that feeling right after listening to a track, I’ll try and make it. And I’m going to try to make it a little bit light-hearted.

It can’t be easy for you to concentrate on it if you’re making it here and there between all your other work. Jung Kook: It’s fine if it takes a really long time—it’s just hard to work on it in pieces. I mean, if I stay up late working away at it, it’s hard to get through the next day. (laughs) I stayed up all night again last night and slept between appointments today, but I’m still going to keep working like this today and then go work on my mixtape again anyway. I’ll do my best to release it as soon as possible. I want to write and record a lot of material.

s there anything about yourself, other than your work or concerts, that you want to show to ARMY as an individual? Jung Kook: I want to show them, that, umm … Just my real self, Jeon Jung Gook. That I’m fairly easy-going, very honest, and nothing special.

What kind of person do you think you are now? Jung Kook: I’m, I’m a, lazy … person. (laughs).

You’re being very hard on yourself. (laughs) How could you be lazy if you’re a part of BTS? Jung Kook: No, I really am lazy. (laughs) If I were alone I’d probably miss a lot of my appointments. (laughs) But I have to avoid making any mistakes when we function as a group. I’m really lazy, and—oh, I overthink things sometimes. I think more than people might expect, and I do things my way. Plus, even though I don’t care what other people think of me, I kind of still do. (laughs) I have no idea. I’m sort of goofy—? But I’m also trying to live a full life—I’m that kind of person. (laughs).

Thank you for the interview. Oh, by the way, I liked your “Butter” fan cam. Your moves were really agile. Jung Kook: Really? Do you think I’ve gotten better? (laughs).

© source.

[fruitcoops]

Okay, but hear me out. Cap cuddles become what everyone is OBSESSED WITH like since Finn hasn’t shut up about them, everyone now wants em. Sirius very rarely gives them out, but if u receive them they live up to the hype. So could u maybe write another part to the cap cuddles pls 😊😊

Anon 1: If you have time, I would love to see some platonic/brotherly cuddles between Lo and Cap! Their relationship just makes me smile🥰

Anon 2: wait wait wait... we've had finn & cap cuddles... what about some loops & lelo cuddles? bonus points if remus and sirius are cuddling later and something leads to remus saying "yes but now I want /two/ of you"

Prompt 16 (as requested by 4 people): “What’re you all pouty about?”

The Cap-Cuddles-verse has grown! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, of course!

I

Nado rolled up his towel and smacked Logan on the ass with it as he passed. “What’s with the lip, Tremzy?”

“Quoi?”

“What’re you all pouty about? You look like someone just took your ice cream away.”

Logan’s frown deepened as he looked into the hotel common space. “Finn won’t stop talking about Cap cuddles.”

“And…you’re jealous?”

“Yes! I want Cap cuddles!”

“Not happening, Tremz!” Sirius called without moving the brim of his cap from over his eyes. “Your boyfriend drooled on me. Tes privileges sont révoqué, souviens?”

“It’s not my fault!” Logan protested, walking out and perching on the arm of Leo’s chair. “I’m basically your brother, give me my privileges back!”

“He’s been whining for days,” Leo muttered as he wound an arm around Logan’s waist and continued scrolling through Instagram. “Finn waxes poetic every night. I’m going to kill them both. Help me, Obi Wan Cap-nobi, you’re my only fuckin’ hope.”

Sirius sighed heavily; after a moment of silence, he opened his arms up. “Viens ici, Lo. I hope you know this is for Leo’s sake and Leo’s sake o—oof.”

Logan practically threw himself onto the couch, scrambling to shove his arms under Sirius’ back and nestling his head beneath his chin. “Oh, this is nice.”

“That’s what Finn said.”

“Keep talking.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re all rumbly when you talk and it feels amazing.” Logan pressed his cheek against Sirius’ soft tshirt and closed his eyes. “I’m never leaving.”

“Yes, you are.” He cracked one eye open and saw Remus standing over him, looking amused. “Up, Tremzy, it’s my turn.”

“I just got here!”

“Fiancé privileges. You have two whole boyfriends to snuggle you.”

“You can have them for the afternoon,” Logan mumbled as he shut his eyes again. “They won’t mind.”

“You’re selling me out?” Leo gasped.

“Nice try,” Remus laughed at the same time. A few seconds later, two arms wrapped around his chest and began hauling off of Sirius; when he tightened his grip, Remus began shaking him lightly.

“I’m gonna get whiplash!” Logan shrieked, though he maintained his hold. Sirius braced against the back of the couch, but the fabric was too smooth—with a thud, both of them slid off and hit the floor in a heap.

A foot nudged him gently in the ribs. “Up you go, Lo. If you ask nicely, Knutty might let you back into his chair.”

II

The assistant coach was hilariously underprepared to deal with the Lions. He fumbled practice times, mixed up names, and dismissed superstitions until ninety percent of the team was ready to throttle him.

Then he assigned bus seats and hotel rooms, and that percentage increased sharply.

Finn glowered at him in the rearview mirror from the front of the bus as Logan and Leo tossed balled-up notes back and forth across the aisles dividing them. Remus winced each time his head smacked against the window and finally grabbed one of the many duffel bags that shared his seat, cramming it between him and the glass as a makeshift pillow. Olli, who was been smushed into the very back with Kuny, grimaced whenever his knees hit his chest as they went over bumps.

One pairing, however, seemed perfectly content. Sirius tapped messages out on his phone as Talker curled into his side, dozing on and off with both their jackets as a blanket. He murmured in his sleep once in a while and Sirius rubbed his shoulder until he quieted down, adjusting to make more space under his arm.

“Are they…together?” The assistant coach asked Moody under his breath, gesturing to the duo in utter confusion. “Arthur mentioned something about couples on the team before he went on sick leave.”

Moody pinched the bridge of his nose. “You fucking idiot, no wonder none of them like you.”

III

“Bliz, you good?” Sirius asked as Kasey shivered in the cold air. Their Uber would be arriving soon, but it wasn’t fun standing in thirty degree weather without a coat when a storm was blowing in.

“Totally,” Kasey said, wrapping his arms around his torso and stamping his feet. “Fuck, it’s windy.”

“I’ll warm you up.” Kasey raised an eyebrow and Sirius rolled his eyes, holding the front of his coat open. “Not like that, asshole. Come here, you’re making me cold just watching you.”

Kasey shuffled over and cuddled up into Sirius’ warmth; his shuddering subsided as soon as Sirius wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pressed him in closer. “Shit, dude, this is awesome,” Kasey laughed, leaning his head on Sirius’ chest. “I get Cap cuddles just for being cold?”

“You get Cap cuddles because we need you for the game tomorrow,” Sirius grumbled. There was a beat of quiet. “Fine. Yes, you get Cap cuddles because you’re cold. Don’t tell anyone”

Kasey fist pumped and closed his eyes, feeling an edge of drowsiness creep in. “Nat’s going to be so jealous.”

“What did I just say?”

IV

Contrary to popular opinion, Cap cuddles go both ways, but only two people have had the privilege of cuddling Sirius Black. Remus is the obvious one, of course—it’s a common sight to see him reading as Sirius’ dozes on his chest or settles between his thighs with his phone.

James, however, has clocked nearly as many hours as Remus over the course of six years of friendship. He’s broad enough that Sirius can lay comfortably across his front without squishing him, and he radiates warmth like a favorite blanket. He hums when he cuddles people, little tunes and fragments of songs as he traces wide circles on their back with his palm.

If there was a race between Harry and Sirius for who falls asleep faster when James cuddles them, it would be the competition of the century.

Remus has come home from running errands to find them curled up together more times than he can count; when Lily bought the couch for the house, she specifically found one long enough for them both to fit. It’s useless to try and dissuade them from cuddling, and there’s no reason to in the first place.  Both James and Sirius are perfectly contented when they’re passed out cold together in a tangle of limbs.

V: Bonus

“Scoot over, baby,” Remus yawned as he slid under the sheets. Sirius obliged, creating a few extra inches of space before setting his phone on the nightstand and wrapping an arm over Remus’ waist to pull him close.

“It’s good to be home,” Sirius muttered, kissing the base of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too. Coach will be back Monday, thankfully.”

“Talker is amazing and all, but I hate not sharing a room with you.” They laid there in silence for a few heartbeats. “Why are you moving so much?”

“Hmm?”

“You keep shifting around. Are you cold?”

Remus sighed through his nose. “I want two of you.”

“What?” Sirius propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at Remus. “Re, I thought we agreed that we didn’t want an open—”

“No, no, not like that,” Remus said quickly, rolling onto his back. “I love and adore you, and I only want you. It’s just—you know how I shared a room with Leo and Logan because what’s-his-face is an idiot and didn’t do his research?”

“Yes. He thought Talker and I were a couple.”

“Right. Anyway, we were watching shitty cooking shows on my bed and we huddled up to fit since twin beds are crazy small and I got kinda sandwiched?” Remus cocked his head to the side, looking confused at his own memory. “And it was nice? Like, really nice? I dunno, I was super warm and kind of compressed.”

Sirius took a moment to let that sink in. “Do you…want me to grab you a pillow or something so you can cuddle it?”

Remus shook his head. “Not really, you’re perfect. It was just strange. I didn’t think I’d like it.”

“So we’re good?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Remus tugged him down by the front of his sleep shirt and kissed him gently. “You’re the best, my love,” he said between kisses. “No matter what, you’re always my favorite.”

Sirius smiled into his lips. “Good to know.”