#ten bonus energy drinks for a month

[catcatb0y]

They changed the Show Missions to eighty percent coins (pretty much useless) and the Premium Pass to Wish Pieces?? What the hell??

Like, it's not just the layout, these rewards are worse, right?

They're also spaced out so much worse please tell me this isn't the new norm.

[lubdubology]

When Things Turn Green Again

SYNOPSIS: Hoping to mend the pain of your broken heart and bury the memory of your failed marriage, you turn towards the woods. A cabin was left in your name and it’s the exact distraction you were looking for. What you didn’t anticipate is meeting a quiet, ruggedly handsome man along the way who helps you heal.

PAIRING: Logan x fem!reader

WC: 11k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; mentions of cheating/divorce; emotional trauma; fluff; sexual innuendos; brief mentions of drinking; dirty talk; slight dom!Logan; oral (f receiving); fingering; doggy style; cock warming; sex with feelings; unprotected p in v

A/N: I pictured either Origins!Logan or Wolverine!Logan, but I think you can envision any Logan you’d prefer. And again thanks to @joelsgoldrush for the support through writing this ❤️ I really do love this piece I wrote and I hope you do too. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! And thank you to everyone who has read, commented, liked and reblogged both Soft Edges and Til The Sun Turns Black—I never imagined either of those stories reaching over 1k notes.

The gravel crunches under your tires as you roll down the long driveway. Memories bloom deep in your chest as you near the cabin, of times simpler than this, unburdened by trappings of real life. You spent your formative years out here in the woods with your grandfather. Summers spent learning how to fish on the lake; how to recognize the poisonous berries from the nonpoisonous ones; and making fires, roasting marshmallows long after the sun had gone down. 

Your grandfather had helped build this cabin. He’d always preferred the outdoors and solitude from people—with the obvious exception of your grandmother and mother—and he’d often come here to escape. Especially after he lost them both. 

The cabin comes into view through the trees just starting to unfurl their spring foliage. Patches of snow still dot the landscape but the wet brown of winter is losing to spring’s verdant hues. The structure has seen better days, last having been lived in over ten years ago. 

A stab of regret pierces your chest. The cabin was willed to you when your grandfather died, but this was your first trip up here since the funeral. You planned to, of course, but as the old saying goes, life happened. Now, you’re hoping the old place can give you something to sink your energy into besides thinking about your failed marriage. 

You park the truck and step out, surveying the property. The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown and choked with old growth and weeds. Years worth of leaves rest upon the roof and clog the gutters. The front porch has several loose or missing spindles and you’re almost afraid to step up onto the old boards. Proving yourself right, the wood groans and creaks beneath your feet, certain spots threatening to give way.

“That’s going to be a fun project,” you mutter to yourself.

Opening the front door, you’re met with the damp mustiness of a long closed up space. A layer of dust seems to coat nearly every surface and cobwebs linger in the corners. You’re hoping the repairs needed inside the cabin are more cosmetic than costly.

You open up the old blinds, letting the early morning light filter in the room. It’s not a large space, an open kitchen, living room and dinning area with separate bedroom and attached bathroom. A small set of steps leads up to a loft, which also doubles as a sleeping space or bonus area.

You unload your belongings from the truck, tucking them away inside the bedroom, before opening all the windows to let in the fresh air. Thankfully, the glass and protective screens are in relatively good repair—a few need replacing, but an easy enough job. You feel a sense of purpose flourish within you, something you haven’t felt for months and you wonder if this is just the reprieve you need to find yourself again.

+++

You spend the morning taking inventory of the repairs needed around the cabin to make it immediately livable. Jotting down a list of supplies, you hop in your truck and head into town to hit up the hardware store. 

The owner, George, recognizes you from previous trips with your grandfather when you were younger. He greets you warmly and helps you find everything you need. As you’re checking out, he asks, “Run into Logan yet?”

“Logan?”

He nods his head. “Shares a property line with you. Has a cabin of his own just about a quarter mile north of yours. Asked him to keep his eye out on the place.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of him,” you comment, stuffing your receipt in your purse. 

George shrugs. “Figured it would give him something different to do. Doesn’t interact much with people.”

“Guess I’ll just have to introduce myself then,” you say, lifting your bags up off the checkout counter. 

“Good luck with that,” George responds with a huffed laugh. “He’s not one for small talk.” 

You give George a polite smile and leave the store, bags in hand. But the conversation sparks your curiosity and you find yourself thinking of the man who shares the woods with you. You promised yourself once you were settled, you’d make the short hike towards his place and introduce yourself.

Arriving back at the cabin, you park the truck and hop out, stopping short when you spot a lone figure walking around from the back of your property. You can’t stop the prickle of anxiety that zips up your spine as the figure comes closer, but he doesn’t see you yet, his eyes on the ground as he walks.

You shut the truck door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing off the trees. He looks up then and you suck in a short breath as his rugged features come into view—well trimmed but scruffy beard, wild dark hair and a fit muscular frame you can see even under the flannel of his shirt.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. You can feel a blush creep across your face and you grip the bags in your hands tighter just to feel something other than the hammering of your heart in your chest.

He stops short of where you’re standing and jerks a thumb behind him. “Turned your electrical breaker on,” he says without introduction and you can only stare at him.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I, uh—thanks.”

He tilts his head and looks at you and you feel like you’re on fire under his glare. It’s an inquisitive one, like he can’t quite figure out what you’re doing in a place like this and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. And yet, you don’t want him to stop looking at you. 

“Right,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for something. He fishes out a key and holds it in your direction. “This is yours.”

You shift the bags, so you’re holding them all in one hand and reach for the key. Your fingertips brush against his just briefly, but it’s enough to set sparks along your skin and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As he steps back from you, you blurt out your name and then immediately wish for a swift death at your awkwardness. 

God, this was embarrassing. 

It’s like you’ve never interacted with humans before.

He gives the barest hint of a smile. “Logan.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan,” you say, just so you can taste his name in your mouth.

Logan nods and turns to head down the path that leads away from your cabin and deeper into the woods. You watch him go, his figure fading further into the distance and you can’t help but think, I’m in trouble. 

+++

You spend the rest of the day keeping busy around the cabin—wiping down dusty surfaces, sweeping up cobwebs, replacing broken light bulbs—but your mind never strays far from Logan and the inexplicable pull you have towards him. 

You’ve dated. You were married. You weren’t a stranger to the opposite sex and physical attraction, but this felt like more. Like an unavoidable pull between you and him and you’ve just been spun into his orbit. 

And that attraction terrifies you. 

Over the next few days, you try and shove him from your mind. It helps that you haven’t seen him again, but your eyes inevitably dart towards the path leading away from your cabin as if you’re expecting him to come walking through. 

Then, the idea comes to you late one night as you’re sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames lick higher. No matter how hard you had tried, Logan remained firmly planted in your mind, his roots stubborn and unyielding. 

Your grandfather always said your grandmother’s cooking was always something that warmed his heart. 

But as you walk the small path towards Logan’s property you briefly wonder if you’ve lost your mind. You carry the small pie dish in your hands and as his cabin grows closer you’re actually contemplating turning back and forgetting the whole thing.

Who the hell bakes pies for people any more?

His cabin is smaller than yours, a little more rustic and worn, which seems fitting based on the little you know about him. Several piles of firewood line the roofed porch and at the opposite end, a single chair and table sit in front of the window. With one last shaky inhale, you climb the steps and rap your knuckles against the door. From inside you hear heavy footfalls and then the door opens.

Logan looks down at you and then towards the dish in your hands, an odd expression crossing his handsome features.

“I made you a pie,” you blurt unceremoniously and you instantly wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Logan just continues to stare at you and you think you see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. But maybe not.

“I, uh, my grandfather lived in the cabin next to yours and it’s mine now. I’m fixing it up, because…well, just because and he taught me to pick berries as a kid? So, I did that and I made you this,” you finish in a ramble, flames of embarrassment licking across your skin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes flick down at the dish in your hands again and you hold it up a bit higher, nudging it closer towards him. As he reaches out to take it, his fingers brush against yours and you again feel electricity tingle down your fingertips. If he notices it too, he says nothing, not that he’s said anything since you showed up on his porch. 

Logan tucks the dish closer to his body and gives you a slight nod. You take that as a good sign and step back to leave. “Okay, cool, cool. Well, um, enjoy. I made sure all he berries were the edible ones so you don’t end up throwing up everywhere.”

At that he actually huffs a chuckle. “Good to know,” he finally says, his voice warm and rich and just a bit gruff.

“Right, well, enjoy!” You turn to leave and can feel his stare against your back and it takes all your remaining functioning brain cells to walk normally.

You spend the next few days trying to forget all about your ill-fated attempt to play neighbor, figuring if he didn’t want to know you before, he definitely didn’t after that. 

You’re coming back from a hike when you spot Logan through the trees walking away from your place, hands tucked deep within his pockets. Your heart quickens in your chest as you walk up to the front door and find the baking dish sitting on the old welcome mat. It’s freshly washed with a folded up piece of paper sitting inside—Thank you.

You’re certain your smile could rival the light from the sun.

+++

It becomes a routine over the next few weeks—you bringing him food and him returning the dish, all without exchanging any words. You’re thankful he’s not much of a talker because you can’t seem to stop making a fool of yourself around him. 

And you don’t know why. 

He’s a handsome man, that anyone can see, but you’ve never been so flustered around a beautiful man before.

There’s something else about Logan you can’t pinpoint that sets your heart fluttering behind your ribs. He seems lonely in the same way you are, and you wonder if he’s out here to lick and heal old wounds just like you. You have an inexplicable want to help him, even if that means sharing your food leftovers with him and trying to chip away at the wall that surrounds him. 

A part of you is hoping he can help break down your walls, too. 

You’re waist deep under the kitchen sink when a knock on the door drags you from fixing the leaking drain. 

“Ah, fuck,” you curse, trying to maneuver out of the space while also not spilling the stagnant water left in the sink trap. As you set the old drain down you call out, “Just a second!”

You wipe your hands against your thighs and swing the door open to find Logan standing there, your glass baking dish from yesterday in his hands. For a second you blink silently at him, unable to think of anything but the fact that you’re wearing grease stained overalls and probably smell like a swamp. 

“Logan, hi,” you finally say, brushing your hair out of your face. 

He gives you a strange look as he hands the dish back to you. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you, “Why do you feed me?”

His question hangs in the air and you freeze. Of all the things he could have asked, you weren’t sure why you didn’t expect that one. His voice is a little gruff, but underneath there’s something that makes your heart race. Something vulnerable. 

You swallow and grip the edge of the glass dish. Logan stares at you, his gaze intense, and you feel exposed. Like he’s trying to dissect you with just a look. 

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you finally admit. “You just…seem like you could use some kindness.”

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches between you, heavy and charged, and you can feel your pulse quicken. “I can stop if—if you want.”

“No,” he says, his voice rough, but with an undercurrent of tenderness. “No, you don’t have to stop. Just not used to people doin’ things like that for me.”

His admission catches you off guard being the first real piece of personal information he’s shared with you. You’ve gleaned certain things from George—he’s told you about Logan being a mutant and a few pieces of his past—but you know there’s still a world of history hiding behind his loner facade that he keeps hidden. You’re hoping eventually he lets you take a peak inside.

“Everyone deserves kindness, Logan,” you say. 

His gaze flickers, a shadow of something crossing his features that makes your heart ache. He shifts on his feet and stares down at the dish in your hands. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replies. 

“Well, I am.”

Logan’s eyes drag back up to yours and you try to calm the nervous energy that bubbles under your skin as his stare presses into you. He gives you a small nod then before turning to leave. 

He pauses as he hits your driveway and looks back at you, cursing lowly to himself. Scratching at the back of his head, he walks back up the steps and pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket. “I, uh, here,” he says uncertainly as he hands you the small cloth bag. 

You can only stare as you take the bag from him, the gift surprisingly light in your hand, but the gesture heavy with unspoken emotion. Your mind races as you think of what could be inside and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. 

Logan stands there, eyes not quite meeting yours as he waits for you to open it. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the drawstrings and peer inside, finding a mixture of different seeds. You can’t help but trail your fingers through them, feeling the faint warmth they hold from where they were nestled against Logan’s body. 

“Oh, Logan,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. 

You glance up at him and he’s looking at you, scratching at his beard, the faintest hint of blush staining his cheeks. “They’re wildflowers. Don’t know what kind. But, I dunno. I thought you could use them for your garden.” 

Your chest tightens as you pull the strings close and tuck the bag in your pocket. “I love them, Logan,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you see the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit as he exhales. “Just seemed like something you’d appreciate,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. 

Something has shifted between you and you find yourself itching to touch him, but you don’t. Not yet. The thread holding you two together is there, but thin, and you don’t want it to fray. “I really do appreciate it,” you say softly, stepping just the tiniest bit closer. 

Logan nods and his mouth tugs into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. He looks at you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. “Okay. Good.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns and jogs down the steps. 

“Guess I’ll see you around then,” you call after him, a smile spreading across your face. 

He glances back over his shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the walls around him are beginning to crumble. 

+++

Sweat beads across your brow as you work, but you pay it no heed. Your attention keeps slipping to Logan as you pry another nail loose from the rotted board. You’ve fallen into an odd relationship with the elusive man whose property line you share, yet you still barely know anything about him.

It’s been a week since he stopped by and gave you those wildflower seeds. A warmth still spreads in your chest when you think about it. And true to his promise, you do see him around, albeit not as much as you’d like. He seems wary, as if his gift opened up a part of himself he wasn’t ready for you to see.

But at least he doesn’t drop off your clean dishes and run anymore. 

As you pry the last nail free, the rotten board comes free and you toss it down onto the grass along with the others. Thankfully, the porch isn’t terribly large and you figure another hour or so to remove the remaining boards before you can start laying down fresh lumber. 

The crunch of gravel pulls you from your work and you look up to find Logan walking down the path, a large leather bag in his hand. You look up at him, wiping the sweat off your brow and lean back onto your heels, trying your best not to stare at his forearms.

“Oh, hey, Logan,” you say, wiping your hands against your jeans as you stand. “What brings you to my side of the woods?”

He actually smiles at you and nods towards the porch. “Need help?”

You hate the little flutter you feel pressing against your ribs. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, it’s good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Oh, well, if you insist,” you say, trying to calm your nerves. “It would be nice to have a second set of hands.”

He sets the leather bag down on the porch with a thud and you catch a glimpse of the tools nestled inside. Logan notices you looking and comments, “I know a few things.” His smirk makes your legs feel like jello. 

“Oh, I bet you know a lot of things,” you blurt, and your eyes widen at the double entendre of your words, heat flushing across your face. 

Logan laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Well, it’s always good to be well educated,” he says with a wink.

Fuck, you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. 

Shoving down your raging embarrassment, you lay out your plan to fix the porch and Logan gives a small nod. He starts at the opposite end, prying loose the first board with ease. You try not to stare at the way his muscles move and how his skin begins to slick with the first beads of sweat. You work in silence for a while, the only sounds those of the forest around you. 

“So, what actually brought you out here?” Logan finally asks. 

You glance over at him and watch as he tosses another board onto the grass. He looks at you expectantly and you sigh. “I got divorced,” you answer honestly. “And I needed something pour my energy into other than wondering where the fuck I went wrong.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your openness leaving you feeling raw, and instead focus on the board in front of you. Anger begins to simmer in your veins at the thought of the last couple of years and you grab the next plank with just enough force to wedge a splinter deep into your palm. A loud curse falls from your lips as you drop the board. 

You feel Logan next to you and you suck in a deep breath as he reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. “Lemme see,” he says, pulling you close and you can smell the earthiness of him, like damp soil and campfire smoke. You find yourself staring at him, his proximity intoxicating, as you drink in his long lashes and the slope of his nose. 

He tilts your palm towards himself, his fingers pressing gently yet with firm enough pressure to push the splinter out of your skin. Pulling it out the rest of the way, his eyes flick up to yours. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the one that fucked up, sweetheart.” His voice is warm and you want to melt into him. 

“Well,” you start, clearing your throat, “I certainly wasn’t fucking his mistresses.” 

Something in his eyes darkens and a shiver runs down your spine. “He’s a fool for losin’ you,” he growls, and his words hit you with more force than you’d care to admit. 

His hand still lingers on yours, steady and reassuring and warm and for a moment you think he might lean closer. You desperately want him to. To press his mouth against yours, to feel his breath against your skin, to have his taste against your tongue. But he pulls back, his expression one of thin control, but you can see the storm behind his gaze. 

“A damn fool,” he mutters under his breath and you can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about himself or your ex. 

Logan lets your hand go, turning back towards the porch and you mourn the loss, your skin still tingling from the contact. You swallow hard, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. It’s Logan—quiet, gruff Logan, who never really sticks around for a real conversation and yet here he is, offering help and showing that maybe he’s not entirely as unaffected by you as you thought. 

Your heartbeat drums in your ears as you watch him go back to work, prying up the next board, his muscles flexing beneath his worn shirt. His jaw clenches and there’s a focused determination in his movements and you can’t tell if he’s working out some anger or trying to keep himself in check.

You work in silence for several more minutes, the only sounds being the prying of loose boards and creaking lumber. There’s a tension between you now, more so than there was before, something palpable. 

It’s enough to drive you mad.

“What about you?” you finally ask, your voice somewhat hesitant. “You don’t talk about yourself much.”

Logan glances at you from the corner of his eye and his brow furrows, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. “Not much to tell,” he grunts, pulling up another board with more force than necessary.

“Somehow, I doubt that. You don’t just wake up one day alone in the woods with forearms like that.” 

Logan looks over at you and smirks. “Maybe I’m just really good with my hands.” His voice dips low and you can’t help the warmth that pools low in your belly at his words.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, no…yep. I’m starting to figure that out.”

He’s silent for a few moments as he goes back to work and the air between you hums with something charged. “You really want to know?” he asks, his voice rough. “I’ve been around for too long, longer than anyone should. Done things I’m not proud of.” He tosses another plank aside and all you can do it watch him. “I’ve…I’ve hurt people I care about. People I’ve cared about have hurt me. I’m not really sure I belong anywhere, so I just…drift.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something broken and vulnerable, and it catches you off guard. For all his outward strength, there’s man deep down inside who’s lost, and your heart aches for him.

“You belong here,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension shift as the weight of your words settle between you. Another board gets tossed aside. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finally raises his gaze to yours and for a moment the world quiets—the forest, the porch, all of it—as his eyes lock onto yours and his expression softens. You offer him a warm smile and then return back to the porch, hesitant to push him any further. 

You work comfortably together after that. The old boards removed, Logan helps you place and nail down the new ones. Your conversation is limited to the project, but you don’t mind. 

As Logan packs up his tools, you glance over at him. “Thank you.”

A half smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” comes his reply as he steps off the porch and heads down the path back towards his cabin. 

“Logan!” you call, lightly jogging after him before he slips out of view. He pauses and turns back towards you. “Can I make you dinner?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you already been doin’ that?”

“No,” you say shaking your head, “I mean, yes, I have, but like a proper dinner? Fresh from kitchen to table. I can come by you, if you’d like.”

Logan studies you for a moment, his gaze intense and you can feel your heart beating against your ribs. He’s silent for so long you wonder if you’ve overstepped and you open your mouth to speak when he says, “Alright. Come by tomorrow, six o’clock.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “Tomorrow it is.”

+++

You’re up before the sun, your nerves a tangle of raw edges. You lay there, staring at the ceiling  and wondering what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You weren’t expecting to meet someone out here in the woods. You were hoping for tranquility, a distraction to quiet the voice in your head that kept nagging you for how your life veered off course. That maybe if you worked more, did more, loved more you wouldn’t be a thirty year old divorcee. 

Instead, you find a mysterious man who sparks within you a flame you long thought extinguished. A ruggedly handsome man who’s somehow wormed his way into your life and has you wondering if maybe he can’t help mend the pieces of your broken heart. 

Except you don’t know if that same spark is ignited within him and if his gesture of dinner is simple kindness. A response to the kindness you’ve shown him over the last two months or if he’s feeling that same attraction you do. 

God, you hope he does. 

You spend the morning cleaning, trying to pour your nervous energy into something productive other than worrying about what the evening may bring. Driving into town, you agonize over what to make even though he’s been eating what you’ve made without complaint for weeks now. You opt to keep it simple—pasta with homemade meat sauce, a nice loaf of bread and a couple bottles of wine. 

While the sauce is simmering on the stove you get ready. You dress for comfort, a simple pair of leggings and a flowy top that hangs slightly off your shoulders.  You catch your reflection in the mirror and give yourself a silent nod of encouragement. Despite this just being dinner, the night brims with the possibility of maybe something more. 

Once the food is prepared, you carefully pack everything in a large basket and begin the walk to Logan’s cabin. The night is cool, but still holds the warmth of day and the promise of summer to come. You feel your anticipation heighten the closer you get to his place and your stomach drops when you see it appear up ahead. 

It’s just Logan, you remind yourself. 

Stepping up onto his porch, you give a hesitant knock at the door. He greets you almost instantly and you suck in a deep breath. Logan looks good and your heart does a flip as you take him in—well fitting jeans, a clean white shirt underneath a soft red flannel button down, his hair is still slightly damp from a shower. 

“You’re early,” he comments, standing aside to let you in. You catch the slight frown tug at his mouth as he notices the basket. “You coulda cooked here, you know.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know if you’d want me invading your space,” you reply, following him deeper into the cabin and setting the basket down on the counter. 

Logan turns back towards you, bracing his hands against the counter. “I don’t mind you in my space.”

His words hang in the air between you and you can feel your pulse quicken. You glance up at him, and the way he’s looking at you—steady and unflinching—sends a thrill down your spine. 

You clear your throat, trying to settle the nerves in your chest. “Next time then,” you say lightly, hoping he can’t hear the slight waver in your voice. 

Logan’s lips quirk into a half smile. “Next time,” he agrees. 

He reaches into a cabinet above him, pulling down a couple of plates and glasses, setting a small table in the corner of the small kitchen. You keep yourself busy unpacking the food, arranging the bread, pasta and sauce on the table, working around him as he uncorks the wine and pours both of you a glass. 

Logan joins you then, raising his glass and clinking it gently against yours. He nods in a silent cheers and tips his head back as he drinks, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t suppress the shiver that shoots down your spine.

Setting down his glass, he serves you and then himself, commenting, “This smells amazing.”

“Family recipe,” you reply, taking another sip wine. “Remind me to make it for you when I have fresh tomatoes. It’s even better then.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he says with a smile.

Conversation starts off slow, but not awkward, as you both test the limits of what you’re wiling to share. Logan’s answers are often short, reserved, but what he does reveal helps bring into focus the outline of the man before you. An outline you’re hoping he’ll let you fill in.

“George says you’re a mutant,” you start slowly and you don’t miss the way his posture stiffens, his fork scraping harshly against the plate. 

He goes still and you wonder if you fucked up. Crossed a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes flick up to yours and he lets out a small hum. “He did, did he?”

You nod, chewing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “It bothers most people.”

“I’m not most people,” you reply, your voice soft. 

Something in his face softens then, the furrow of his brow a little less pronounced. A slight smile plays at his lips. “No. No you’re not.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest and your face flushes. Taking another bite, you ask, “Can I see?”

Logan studies you for a moment and you can see him deciding whether or not to show you that part of him he’d rather keep hidden. He sets the silverware down and he flexes his fingers before resting his palms back on the table. Then, he unsheathes his claws and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

You see him flinch at your reaction and he goes to retract his claws and you reach for him. “Don’t,” you say, your fingers hovering just above the blades. 

As he relaxes, you gently rest your fingertips against the metal, finding it surprisingly cool but still holding a faint warmth from his body. His eyes drop to where you’re touching him as you slowly begin to trace each blade with your fingers, following the slight curve down to where they emerge from his skin. You look up at him, finding his gaze fixed on you and you shiver under the intensity. 

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. You feel him shudder beneath you as he retracts his claws, leaving your fingertips nestled against the skin between his knuckles. 

You pull your hand away from his, mourning the loss of his skin against yours. Logan clears his throat and pulls his hands into his lap, glancing down at them as if they’re foreign, something he’s never taken the time to notice before. He flexes his fingers once more before dragging his gaze back to your face.

“Do they hurt?” you ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Thank you for showing me.”

Logan studies you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s trying to figure you out. You know he’s probably not used to this, someone seeing him as something other than a mutant, an aberration, someone who should be hidden away. Then, his face softens.

“People don’t usually ask,” he says quietly.

You smile gently, feeling that flame inside you burn just a bit brighter. “I just want to know you.”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze still steady, but more open, as if some of those invisible walls he surrounds himself with have started to come down. If only just enough to let the light shine through. 

An unspoken tension simmers, thickening the air, and you know he can feel it too, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s heavy with promise. You turn your attention back to your plate and for a few moments, neither of you speak.

“So,” you say after a beat, “Do you ever use them as forks?”

Logan huffs out a laugh, the sound surprising you and his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement. “I can’t say that I have,” he replies with a smile.

You grin. “You should give it a try.”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

The rest of dinner passes with easy conversation and you feel your nerves begin to settle, just a bit. Logan seems less guarded too, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him.

You help him clear the table, ignoring his request that you just sit and relax. As you stand next to him, emptying the leftovers into a container, you feel his eyes on you. When you hand him the container, your fingers brush again, but this time he doesn’t immediately pull away. His fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary and your breath catches in your throat.

“Thanks for dinner, he says quietly, voice low. “And for…understanding.”

You nod, feeling that unmistakable pull between you, the tug that’s kept you orbiting closer and closer to him. “Anytime, Logan,” you answer softly. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s been burned before and is still figuring out if he can trust what you’re offering him. And you understand his turmoil, trust having shattered your heart into pieces, pieces you’re still trying to pick up and reshape. 

Logan steps a little bit closer then and before you can say anything else, his hand gently reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is simple but intimate and it sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling lowly in your belly.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let me walk you home.”

He grabs your basket before you can protest and you follow him out into the night. There’s a full moon hanging heavy in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you, yet you remain close to Logan. You curse to yourself as you trip over an exposed root and then you feel Logan reach out for you, his fingers wrapping securely around your own. The heat of his palm against yours is almost overwhelming.

Your cabin comes into view and Logan slows, his fingers slipping from your grasp as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“Good night, Logan,” you say softly as you walk up the steps. 

As you turn from him, he reaches for your wrist, his fingers curling and pressing hotly against your skin. Your breath hitches as he climbs the steps to join you on the porch, and your gasps dies in your throat as he tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his gaze. 

“Do I make you nervous?” His voice is low, breath hot and damp against your skin. 

“Yes,” you breathe, somehow inching closer to him, your fingers reaching for the hem of his flannel and twisting into the fabric. 

“Why?” He brushes his nose against yours and you chase after the touch. 

Swallowing hard, you look up at him from under your lashes. You tilt further into him, your mouth hovering just over his. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a very long time and I don’t want it to go away.” Don’t want you to go away. 

Logan nods and whispers, “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” And then he presses his mouth to yours. 

It’s soft, barely a hint of skin against skin, but when you whisper, “Please,” against his lips, Logan growls and then he’s everywhere. His kiss claims you, his tongue licking in your mouth and you whimper as his fingers curl along the nape of your neck somehow pulling you impossibly closer. 

You wind your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the short strands at the back of his head. Your entire world is focused down to the feel of his lips on yours and the press of his fingers against your jaw as he pulls you towards his hungry mouth. 

Logan’s grip on you tightens, one hand splayed across your lower back and the other pressed firmly between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him. The heat between you is palpable, each movement of his lips setting you further aflame. You lose track of time, lost in the sensation of his beard scraping against your skin, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless and his forehead rests against yours, your shared breaths mingling in the space between you. His eyes are dark and intense as they search your face and you feel untethered, Logan being the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough, but surprisingly tender as his thumb traces along the line of your jaw.

You nod, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Good.” He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his hand lingering at the side of your face. He presses one last soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he steps back and walks down the path back home.

+++

You can’t stop thinking about the kiss—Logan’s lips against yours, the taste of his tongue, the press of his hands against your skin, hot and heavy, yet gentle. 

You want to live in that moment forever. Want to know only his kisses for the rest of your life, for him to be the first person you kiss good morning and the last person you kiss goodnight. For him to kiss you just because he can, because he misses you, because he can’t get the feel of your mouth out of his mind and he needs to feel you again pressing against him. 

You also want to run away, hide yourself from these emotions that are overwhelming you and leaving you feeling raw and exposed and absolutely terrified. You haven’t kissed another man in two years and he broke your heart, leaving nothing but shattered pieces and dust in his wake. Dust that still clings to you despite your best efforts to sweep it up. Those pieces of your heart are still sharp, jagged where they should be smooth. 

You’ve always been trusting, choosing to see the light in others as opposed the darkness. Believing deep down that everyone deserves kindness, deserves a second chance, that one bad deed does not a bad person make. But he stole a part of that from you and you hate him for it. Hate that even now, after all this time, he’s able to worm his way into your brain and make you question the motives of the man who’s made you feel more alive than you have in months. 

Last night you felt unshackled, unbound by the fear that had chained you for so long. You felt as if Logan’s very touch, his presence, had set your soul on fire and instead of fearing the burn, you were ready to embrace the warmth. 

But now, raw contempt begins to simmer in your veins and you need something to pour your frustration into before it threatens to consume you whole. 

Throwing your hair up into a messy bun and throwing on a paint-stained shirt and ripped jeans, you head outside looking for a project to sink fingers into. In the small shed behind the cabin, you find a few gardening supplies—a small shovel, trowel, bow rake—and you drag them out and to the overgrown flower beds.

You don’t even bother with the tools at first, ripping at the dead growth with your bare hands, pulling it from the earth in great clumps and tossing it aside. Your pulse beats loudly in your ears as you move from bed to bed, clawing away the old growth, your breathing growing ragged and your palms staining with dirt.

Grabbing the rake, you dig at the remaining plants, tearing at the roots, destroying the new growth. Tears run hotly down your face, blurring your vision and your throat aches from force of your breathing and screams you’ve been holding back.

From behind you, you hear the sound of your name and you whip around so quickly, the rake goes flying from your hands. You can hear the snikt of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe and the splintering of wood as he deflects the rake flying at him. It clatters to the ground between you as he retracts his claws and looks at you, his brow furrowed in concern.

You wonder, then, exactly what you look like in that moment. Dirt caked on your hands and under your fingernails, cheeks flushed with exertion, hair a halo of disarray. The pure adrenaline you’d been running on wanes and your limbs suddenly feel heavy and you sink to the ground in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, because you’re afraid of what you’ll see.

Logan approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you and gently raising your chin to look up at him. The stark worry etched on his face makes you ache and fresh tears burn in your eyes. You wipe at your eyes, which only serves to smear dirt across your face.

“I’m terrified, Logan,” you whisper, wanting to reach for him, but afraid to touch him. “I terrified of how much I like you.”

“You scare me too,” he confesses softly and your heart breaks.

He leans closer, fingers resting hesitantly against your knees. You reach for him too, grabbing on to the open sides of his jacket and pulling him to you. Logan doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push back and instead envelopes you into his arms, your head resting against the solid warmth of his chest. 

Safe in his arms, you cry. Harsh, broken sobs as he rubs your back, the soft caress of his fingers along your spine anchoring you to him as he holds you. He murmurs into your hair that he’s got you, to let it all out, and you do.

Eventually, you calm and sigh, pressing your forehead against his chest, loathe to move just yet. “I’m broken, Logan,” you mumble into his shirt. You look up at him then, the softness and concern on his face making you physically ache. “I still have broken pieces where I should be whole.”

Slowly, tentatively, he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. His thumbs brush at the dirt and tears under your eyes and he smoothes the hair away from your forehead. “Maybe some of my pieces fit,” he says, voice low, but steady. 

His words send a flood of emotion through you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then the gravity of what he’s saying hits you—he’s offering you himself, all his jagged and scarred pieces, the pieces no one else sees.

The pieces he wants you to see.

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. His sigh is hot against your cheek, but he doesn’t press further. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin and somehow it feels like the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let me help you get this cleaned up.”

You nod, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.  Logan stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your fingers slipping into his and his grip is steady, yet gentle as he helps you up. 

Without a word, Logan grabs the broken rake and begins removing the debris from the beds you laid waste to. You watch him work for a moment before joining in, pulling the weeds from the beds you hadn’t gotten to yet. Every now and then your eyes meet, but you don’t say anything. You don’t feel the need to fill the space with words, his presence beside you speaking volumes more than he could ever say. 

After a while, Logan pauses and looks over at you, wiping the dirt from his hands into his jeans. “You still got those seeds I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Go get ‘em,” he says nodding towards the cabin. “We’ll plant something new.”

You retrieve the small pouch where you’ve kept it safe and come out to find Logan kneeling in the dirt, his fingers making small pockets of earth to house the new flowers. He looks up at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You join him on the ground, dropping a few seeds in each well as he moves to create the next one. 

“I’m not very good at this,” Logan starts, covering the last well with dirt, “but I promise I won’t break you. You don’t gotta be scared of me.”

He looks at you then, his hazel eyes meeting yours and you reach for his hand, your thumb brushing across his dirt stained knuckles. 

“No,” you reply with a smile, “I don’t think I do.”

+++

It’s been three days since that moment with Logan in the garden and the air between you has been quiet. Logan hasn’t come by the cabin, but you hadn’t sought him out either. You weren’t avoiding him, exactly. More a need for space, a chance to process the feelings you felt for him, to test if you were truly ready to open yourself up to him.

Your mind never strays far from him, though. An almost constant loop plays in your brain of the way he held you, the way he spoke, the quiet promise he made not to break you. There’s a large part of you that believes him; your heart is screaming at you shed your lingering doubt and trust him, but your rational brain is grasping desperately to the kernel of truth that vows can be broken. 

So you turn to what you do best—pour your energy into other things. The cabin is spotless now, cleaned of disuse and age, turned into a cozy place of retreat, a simple shelter turned into a home. And yet…

You’re sitting on the porch, watching the sun dip lower in the sky, the book you’d been trying to read long forgotten. The forest is peaceful, alive with the sounds of early summer. But as calming as it is, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest—you miss him. More than you thought possible.

Just as you’re about to stand, the sound of boots against gravel catches your attention. You look up and there he is—Logan. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket as he walks up the path. His look is cautious, as if he��s unsure whether or not you’ll accept his presence. 

Your heart skips a beat and you stand, wiping your palms against your jeans as he draws closer. His hazel eyes meet yours and there’s something softer about him, something open.

He stops a few feet away from you, gaze steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should come by.” His voice is still gruff, but quieter than usual. “If you needed space or not.”

“I did, need space. But not from you,” you clarify. You take a hesitant step towards him. “I missed you.”

Logan sighs then, his posture relaxing just slightly. “I wanted so badly to see you. I didn’t know if I should stay away.”

Before you can second guess yourself, you step down from the porch, closing the distance between you. You stand in front of him, noticing the faint lines of tension around his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched as if bracing himself for your rejection. 

“Don’t stay away,” you say softly, “I want you here.”

You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hands as you pull them from his pockets. Logan doesn’t pull away and the warmth of his skin against yours feels like the most natural thing in the world. You feel it then, that familiar pull—the one that’s been there since the beginning, drawing you closer and closer into his orbit, his sun.

You brush your thumbs across his knuckles and look up at him. “You wanna come inside?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll make you something to eat?”

Logan nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you lead him inside, something in the air between you shifts, something subtle. But you know one thing for certain—you’re not afraid anymore. Not of this.

+++

The sun has set, the food long gone and as Logan’s hand reaches for the front door, you slip in front of him. His scent overwhelms you, that earthy dampness you’ve come to associate with him flooding your senses. 

“What if you stayed?” you ask, the slight waver in your voice betraying your boldness. 

You watch as his eyes darken and he leans even further into your space. “Do you know what you’re asking, sweetheart?” he replies, eyes searching your face. 

Swallowing, you nod. “I do,” you whisper. 

Then you slide your arms around his waist, pulling him closer as you lean in and kiss the hollow of his throat. You can feel him swallow hard beneath your lips and you smirk into his skin as you drag your mouth higher, over the long column of his neck to nip at the corner of his jaw. 

“Stay,” you murmur in his ear.

Logan turns, his nose brushing against your cheek as he seeks your mouth and you inhale deeply as his lips find yours. His fingers wind themselves into your hair, resting against the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer. You whimper into his mouth when he pulls back, eyes blown black.

“Show me where,” he says, his voice low.

You lead him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours and you barely make it to the top before Logan’s spinning you around, mouth finding yours. His is kiss is demanding, so different from that first one all those nights ago. This is urgent and desperate, like he can’t possibly get you close enough to satisfy the need deep within him. And you feel it too, pouring yourself back equally into the kiss, moaning as his tongue finally slips alongside yours. 

Your fingers fumble along the top of his jeans, pulling his shirt from where it’s tucked and sliding your hands up along the sides of his ribs. He rewards you with a deep groan of his own, nipping slightly at your bottom lip.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he rumbles against your lips, kissing you once, twice, “I’ve been dyin’ to feel your hands on me.”

“Me, too,” you reply, gasping as his hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to brush his fingers hotly along your skin. 

Logan pulls back just enough to look down at your face, his fingers still clutching the fabric of your shirt, but lifting it just a bit higher. His gaze is questioning, asking for silent permission to continue. You nod once and he slowly drags the shirt up, his fingers skimming along your sides, over the swells of your breasts as he pulls the shirt over your head. 

Despite the heat coursing through your veins, you shiver under the intensity of his stare. He kisses you again, inhaling deeply, before moving down, nipping over your chin, your throat, in between your breasts. 

Logan’s hands follow his mouth, running a trail from your shoulders, down long your spine, easily flicking open the clasp of your bra on the way. He glances up at you as he moves to pull the straps aside, dragging them down your arms. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, thumbs fanning out across your nipples.

A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and pools low in your belly. You feel like you might spontaneously catch on fire and he’s barely touched you. You can’t remember ever feeling like this when a man has touched you, so consumed by want and need.

His fingers trail lower, brushing along the top of your jeans, popping open the button. You grab for his hand, stopping him. You see the concern flicker across his face and you smile. “Your turn,” you say, sliding your palms up his chest and pushing the flannel from his shoulders, his shirt following suit.

You revel in his muscular physique, your fingers tracing along his collarbones, down over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the wiry hair beneath your fingertips. His muscles flutter beneath your touch as you follow the trail of hair lower, down to the vee between his hips. 

Logan’s arousal is evident by the tenting of his jeans, and your eyes locked on his, you dip lower, giving the faintest of caresses over the fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses. “Take your pants off.”

It’s a command, not an ask, and one you’re more than willing to comply with. 

Nervous energy licks at your skin as your fingers tuck into the waistband of your jeans and pull them down. Logan follows your lead, unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans over his hips, kicking them aside. His cock juts out proudly, thick and heavy, nestled in a bed of hair.

Logan’s on you before you can kick away the last leg, hoisting you up under your thighs and forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips. His palms are hot against your ass and you can feel his cock trapped between you. 

He moves you both to the bed, setting you down before crawling over you and slotting himself between your thighs. Leaning back on his heels, he stares down at you, skin flushed. He kisses you softly once, before dragging a single finger down the center of your chest, hooking it into the waistband of your panties. 

“What do you like?” he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You stare at him, unable to comprehend his question as he slides his finger back and forth across your skin. Electric sparks of anticipation crawl up your spine and you can feel the rapid flutter of your heart against your ribs. 

“You want me to touch you with my fingers?” His voice is low, so low and you shiver. 

Your mouth has gone dry and you can only nod. 

“You want me to touch you with my mouth?” Logan leans down, skimming his lips across your collarbone, nipping lightly. 

Your fingers stutter across his shoulders and wind themselves into his hair. Logan’s smirk presses into the corner of your jaw. “Want me to touch you with both?”

“Please,” you whine into his neck, breath hot against his skin. 

Logan trails back down your body, kisses peppering over your neck, both breasts, your belly before he presses a kiss to the top of your clothed mound. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and looks up at you, asking for permission. At your nod, he pulls he material down, eyes never leaving yours as he trails his fingers down your legs and tosses the fabric aside.

You’re fully bare, exposed in a way you haven’t been in a long time and your nerves blush across your skin. Instinctively, you try to close your legs, but he stops you, his hot palms curling against your thighs.

“You don’t gotta hide from me,” Logan says, kissing your knee and spreading your legs further apart. “You’re so pretty like this. Flushed and wet and smelling so sweet for me.”

A jolt of desire zips down your spine. Nothing could have prepared you for the filthiness of words that would spill from his mouth. Or how much you’d enjoy hearing them.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you murmur.

“That’s not possible.”

“Other men have—“

Your words die in your throat as Logan grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to his face. His expression is soft, but his eyes flash with a glint of something dark. “When I fuck you, I’ll be the only man in your bed, understand?”

The roughness and edge in his voice makes you shiver and heat pools between your thighs. You swallow heavily and nod.

“I want this,” he says, his tone softer. “I want you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

Slowly, you reach for his hand and guide his fingers to where you’re wet and aching for him. At the first brush of his fingertips against your folds, you gasp and your fingers dig deeper into his skin. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Logan coos. “I’m gonna make you feel good.”

And then he’s touching you, fingers dragging through your arousal before circling around your clit. He caresses you like he knows you and you’re molten beneath him. One finger, then two slip inside you, pressing against that spot that makes you squirm and grip at the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck,” you breathe, “You weren’t lying.” Logan quirks an eyebrow, fingers still curling within you, his rhythm picking up speed. “You are good with your hands.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest as he continues to move, this thumb working over your clit. Your hips jolt off the bed when Logan replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth. 

He continues to work your cunt, long, flat presses of his tongue against your clit punctuated by the short, sharp thrusts of his fingers. The dual sensation is enough to wind that tension in your core tighter, building you up higher and higher until you feel yourself reaching that inevitable peak.

“Logan, I—I’m so close,” you gasp, fisting your fingers into his hair.

His growl against your cunt is enough to send you over the edge, the vibrations rippling through your body as your orgasm washes over you. Through half lidded eyes, you meet his gaze from between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire and you shiver at the intensity of his stare.

Logan crawls over you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, bright and sour, as he licks into your mouth. 

“Do you trust me?”

Logan’s fingers are still moving against you, wringing out the last of your orgasm and you can only nod. He withdraws his fingers and you whine, but he just smirks and taps your hip. 

“Turn over,” he commands lowly. 

A shudder ripples through you as you willingly comply, rolling onto your stomach as Logan’s palm trails from your hip over the swell of your ass. His fingers kneed into your flesh and you squeak as he curves them over your skin, pulling you up onto your knees, drawing your hips flush with his. The thick feel of his cock presses into your ass and you can’t help but push back, enjoying the strangled moan that falls from his lips. 

“I can’t wait to be nestled deep inside you,” he groans, slotting his cock between your thighs, running the length along your wet cunt. 

You peer over your shoulder and smirk at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Logan lines up then and the air punches out of your lungs as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt. He’s deep at this angle and you feel claimed, owned in the best way possible as he begins to move his hips. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite and you’re sure you’ve never experienced pleasure quite like this before. 

His fingers dig into the flesh at your hips, grabbing as much as he can to pull you back into him and you push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. His grip is enough to be bruising, teetering that line between pleasure and pain and yet you relish it. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “Look so good stretched around my cock.”

Pleasure zips along your spine and curls along your limbs, each drag of his cock against you coiling that band in your belly tighter and tighter. Yet, you need more. You need to feel him, feel his arms around you, on you, feel his mouth hot and open against your skin.

“I need to feel you closer,” you whine. “Please, I—”

Logan’s arm slips underneath you, curling just under your breasts and pulling your back flush to his chest. He holds on, fingertips splaying across your ribcage as he fucks up into you, his breath hot and damp against your ear. 

You turn your head just enough to capture his lips, your mouth pressing against his in an open-mouthed kiss. He steals the moan from your throat as his other hand dips to where you’re joined, fingers beginning to circle around your clit. 

Slipping a hand into his hair, you hold him to you, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Logan groans when you rake your nails along his scalp and you do it again. Your mixed groans and the wet noises from where he’s thrusting into you fill the room and time seems to stop. There is nothing but the thick feel of him between your legs, the fervent press of his fingers against your clit and the tight grasp of his hand across your breast. 

A litany of praise falls from his mouth and his words burn through you, setting you aflame from the inside. It’s too early for thoughts of love and forever, but you can feel something real, something undeniable pulling you together, uniting you in a way more than just physical. You’re bound to him. 

Logan’s hand slides up your sternum, his fingers coming to cup your jaw, pulling your focus back to him. The pad of his thumb pulls at your lower lip. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he husks into your ear. “I wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.”

And you do, two more forceful thrusts sending you teetering over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. Logan doesn’t stop, fucking you through wave after wave, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chases his own release. 

“Let me feel you, Logan,” you pant, your breath coming out in short gasps. “Please.”

With a deep groan into your shoulder he comes, his cock spasming deep within you, painting your womb with his seed. His arm around your hips holds you firmly in place as he uses your body to wring out the last of his pleasure, shallowly thrusting as your walls caress him. When he finally stills, breath hot against your skin, you can feel your combined come slick against your thighs. 

You don’t know how long he holds you like that, back to chest, keeping you in his arms simply because he can. 

Only later, when the sweat begins to cool on your skin and your flesh pebbles, does Logan lay you down, finally slipping from within you. He pulls you close and you rest your head against his chest, the comforting lull of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. 

You lightly trace your fingertips over the crest of his hipbone just to feel him beneath you. His breathing evens out, approaching that blissful edge of sleep when you glance up at him. Logan opens his eyes, gaze meeting yours and he smiles.

“Logan?”

His hum vibrates through his chest.

“I think we’re healing each other.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answers, “I think we are.”

[moonlightcycle571]

Captain Marvel not understanding anything about technology yet somehow being a technopath

I think it should be established that Billy Batson knows nothing about technology. He was stuck in the time bubble for over 50 years, and even then (before during and after), he’s a street kid. Man’s still on radio and old vehicles.

Every time she leaned something slightly techie, he gets flabbergasted. Mispronounces the name of so many machines and has no idea what’s the differences between an IPod and an IPhone. He understands even less why Sam’s song is beefing with an apple???

Having said that, Captain Marvel can be terrifyingly proficient in tech at random times, and the reasoning behind it is so dumb that any tech-savie person in the vicinity are either banging their heads or foaming in jealousy.

Electrics use electricity. Cap is technically Living Lightning. And magical. All Cap needs to do is think about something for it to appear in the nearest screens.

Batman: the access to the security are heavily locked and would take to much time to enter from the outside

Marvel: I got it! *camera footage appear on the screen*

Batman: hn?

*or*

Oracle: I need to bypass multiple firewalls. The coding is so complex, but if you give me ten minutes-

Marvel: oh it’s cool *waves his hand*

Oracle: …

Oracle: did you crack the code by waving your hand…

Marvel: yeah I just swishes off the weird blocks

Oracle, inwardly: THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE

Oracle, outwardly: *noticeably restrained* cool 🙂

*Or*

Marvel: Hey Vic, do you want to get milkshakes?

Cyborg: I can’t, the father box is acting up. I’ve been glitching all day.

Marvel: oh let me help

Cyborg: you can’t just-

Marvel: *slaps Victors shoulder* there!

Cyborg: … how???

Marvel: I asked nicely! 😁

Cyborg: I’m going to die now

Bonus:

Somewhere in a dark unused part of the watchtower, many capes gathered.

Barbara Gordon: Today we will welcome a new member to our support group. Introduce yourself, tell us why you’re here and will can start the meeting.

Roy Harper: Hi, I’m Arsenal, and today Captain Marvel broke my grenade launcher. He then felt bad and made me a pocket rocket launcher. Meaning it’s a rocket launcher but when I press a button, it turns into a small box for me to carry around. I asked him why make a rocket launcher and not a grenade launcher, and he asked me what’s the difference.

*echoes of ‘oooh’ and ‘welcome to the club’*

Tim Drake: I taught him on how to set a Facebook account and helped him set his profile. I go out to get an energy drink. I come back and he’s hacking conversations of the mafia, giving me info on the trafficking ring I’ve been tracking for a month.

*sympathising nods from everyone*

Jaime Reyes: Last Thursday, my scarab got scratched and was having trouble repairing itself. Marvel came in and put a bandaid on it. The worse part is… it actually worked.

*cue groans through out the room*

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲: easy tips to form healthy habits ( based on this alessya farrugia video )

if you don't have a solid night routine, you may as well throw away your whole morning routine, because the decisions you make at night are gonna to directly affect you in the morning and how you go about your day. if you binge watch netflix 'til 1am calling it your "rest time" only for you to wake up in the morning feeling tired and frustrated, it's time for you to build a night routine and stick to it.

pro tip do not try to improve everything all at once, you're gonna fail. just try to incorporate something small in your routine to start forming healthy habits. it might take months, but one year from now it will all be worthy.

𝟭. prepare for the next day ( 📒 )

write down your to-do list for the next day. when i don't plan out my day i just end up doing nothing, because i don't even know where to start. but if you know what you have to do you don't end up procrastinating and start getting things done. also, do not overload yourself with too much things to do, you're just not going to accomplish them all, so keep it realistic.

bonus put the most important tasks on the top of your list so you're gonna accomplish them as soon as possible.

𝟮. clean you room ( 🫧 )

it really depends on when you are the most active – for example i'm a night owl and i can't even imagine cleaning my room in the morning – but yes, removing all the mess you made during the day will help you leaving it all behind and starting fresh new the next day. put your clothes away, remove books, notebooks, make-up products, trash all around and i guarantee you that you're gonna feel so much better.

𝟯. take care of your body ( 🌷 )

take a warm shower that can help you relax, do your skincare, change in your comfy clothes, basically wash away the stress and negativity of the day. last semester i would literally stay at uni for 10h straight and coming back home at 8pm after the gym, i used to take a warm shower straight after that so i could let all the negativity of the outside world slide off me.

𝟰. drink hot tea ( 🍵 )

avoid theine but treat yourself to a hot drink that helps you relax and restore your calm, also take your vitamins and give yourself those ten minutes in your personal space.

𝟱. self love and affirmations ( 💖 )

reflect on your day, write down in your diary all the things that happened, pray, meditate, do your affirmations, leave everything in the past, do not let today's disappointments, stress and frustration affect your tomorrow. the only way in which you can truly move forward is by facing the things that happened today to leave them in the past, tomorrow is a new day.

𝟲. get off your phone ( 📱 )

definitely the hardest part for me. i don't even want to explain why it's so dangerous for you to stay awake scrolling through your phone at night – blue light and whatever – so just be strong and try to get off your phone at least 1h before going to bed, use eye-protection mode after sunset and use blue glasses if you can.

bonus use only red light at night, blue light are gonna inhibit your melatonin production ( which is what makes you sleep at night ).

𝟳. go to bed on time ( 🛏️ )

do not delay your bed time in order to get more dopamine scrolling through social media or binge watching netflix. do not sacrifice your sleep in order to do more work/study ( i did it in the past and it's definitely not worthy ), prioritizing your sleep is going to reward you in the long run. trust and believe.

𝟴. 321 rule for better sleep ( 💤 )

3 hours before bed –> stop eating. it gives you enough time to digest your food so you're not going to waste energy during your sleep to digest and you're gonna wake up less tired.

2 hours before bed –> stop studying/working. you need to drag your brain out of your "fight or flight" mode in order to get deep rest at night.

1 hour before bed –> stop screen time. allow your body to produce the melatonin that it needs in order to fall asleep properly.

[beardedmrbean]

A gastroenterologist's warning about Finns' fatty livers is grabbing the attention of Helsingin Sanomat readers.

"It is alarming that working-age people in their prime are dying from liver diseases. The most common is fatty liver, which already affects every third person in Finland," gastroenterologist Ville Männistö of the University of Eastern Finland told HS.

Männistö points out that fatty liver is often either associated with alcohol or excess weight, but less attention is paid to the combined effect of these risk factors — which is the situation in Finland. Not only do half of Finns have excess abdominal fat, but many working-age people here drink too much as well.

In Finland, liver cirrhosis mortality is on the rise and the UK appears to be the only other country with a similar trajectory, according to Männistö, who says the other Nordics and Western European countries have bucked this trend.

Bonus controversy

Hufvudstadsbladet follows up on Helsinki University Hospital's bonus system. HUS paid out around 454,000 euros in performance bonuses to its executives this spring, even though nearly 1,000 employees face redundancy.

The 26 highest-ranking HUS executives received annual bonuses of tens of thousands of euros, depending on their performance. These execs have fixed salaries ranging from 10,000 to 15,000 euros per month.

HBL now reports that several high-ranking individuals at HUS are critical of the system — but not because they should have seen less money.

"I didn't receive my full salary because the model doesn't work," Maaret Castrén, former director of emergency departments in Uusimaa and one of the 26 who received bonuses, told the Swedish-language daily.

Castrén, now a National Coalition Party MP, explained that the bonuses were a part of the total salary package.

To cast further light on the situation, Castén provides an example of how the system worked in her case. To meet her targets, patients needed to transfer out of emergency units to other departments within eight hours — a goal she said hinged on matters beyond her control, such as the capacity of other divisions.

Harnessing the sun

As the days grow shorter, business daily Kauppalehti reports that solar energy is gaining ground in Finland. A few years ago, the general sentiment was that it wasn't worthwhile to produce solar energy in Finland, but that viewpoint has changed.

Solar panels are becoming increasingly efficient, according to the business daily. Panels these days need smaller surface areas to produce the same amount of electricity.

Solar energy is starting to make a significant impact on Finland's electricity system. KL notes that the abundance of solar power is already influencing electricity prices during the bright summer hours.

The Energy Authority estimates that by 2030, the production capacity of large solar power plants could be 190 times greater than today.

[deeisace]

Written at about 2am and then not posted, kept cs it's sleep-deprived stream-of-consciousness weirdness

---

Aw man I should not have stayed up to watch Deadloch

It is fuckin insane tho

And I'm having Thoughts that need to be Solved by Ao3

And also I have to leave for work in. 4 hours.

And also I really need the loo again but I'm scared of waking up the guy downstairs

The uh the plan is. To leave a bit earlier for work. And then go at the train station. Is the plan. :/

It's a bad plan and I acknowledge that. But it's where we're at today huh

(6am edit: you'll be pleased to know "the plan" did not go ahead, I have been brave enough to use my own goddamn lavatory. Fuckin insane behaviour)

I'm gonna need so many energy drinks to get through tomorrow. But at least I can go the loo at work I guess.

I'm fully aware I've constructed a bonkers situation for myself. Or like. Built my own on the guy downstairs' bonkersness. At least I'm aware of it?

Anyway I'm gonna uhhhhh go to Ao3 now. And suffer for a few more hours. Y'know. And not move an inch cs my bed is really creaky cs it's fuckin broken cs the one fella came to fix my window before I had a chair to stand on so he stood on my bed instead? Cs the windows are really fuckin high in this house

I miss sash windows. Like sometimes the rope inside will snap cs no-one's replaced it since at latest 1926, but at least you can still like reach to open the fuckers anyway, and all you need is a proppy uppy thing. I can't reach to open these windows without climbing on my bed/desk/toilet and there's no fuckin breeze comes through even you do get them open cs they're too high, and they're what's the word for cold drafty draugy fuckin english they don't work in winter either and they have wobbly handles but that's a good thing cs it's the only way I can reach enough to close them again

Anyway that should be okay soon cs they're getting replaced next month or when, but also that doesn't solve the problems I'm currently experiencing which is I'm not asleep and I really fuckin badly need a piss

I hope the fella downstairs only has a six-month contract an he fucks off after, cs even tho the windows are shitty and I live in one room I really fuckin love this house I don't want to move to another house

I've never lived in more than one room my own what do people do with space? Fill it with sofas, or something? Fuckin kitchen islands idk

I don't have the spends anyway like I could deffo go into my savings but I'd still have to work more and I don't want to do that I'm fuckin tired

I mean currently that is cs I've been awake for 21 hours apart from the standing up nod off on the train home, but that is not the point

Fuckin pay me more so I can be like alive and have a nice time and and and fuckin And at work they said if we got a certain amount of reviews this quarter then all the store staff would get a bonus each?

A few years ago it was just the management would, and then they changed it to say all staff, but the targets were still bullshit nonsense so no-one's ever got one, even our store manager who's got a funny little glass award on his desk for working at this company longer than I've been alive right, But! then they changed it to be an achievable thing, 100 reviews in 3 months and keep the average stars thing good, which we can do cs we've done it before it was a bonus thing but now it is, right

And then like two weeks ago, right when we were nearly got it like celebrating whooo ten left to get, the fuckers turned and said actually every single store in the area has to get the same thing for anyone to qualify for the bonus, which includes isle of mann which gets like one review every month or smth cs obviously reviews don't matter when you know the whole town and are just catching up with Joanie who's buying a new tarp or whatever, why would you ask Joanie to give you a review, it doesn't make sense, there's no point in it obviously, and it shouldn't effect anybody else on a whole different fuckin landmass. Explain to me the fuckin logic there. Fuckin head office fuckers

Give me the money you fuckin owe me for smiling at cunts as call me "darling" and misgender me to high fuckin heaven and back or I will find a new job

I mean. I won't, cs nowhere that's not fuckin dire as shit is hiring and also I don't know how to do business things myself and fuck going back to uni either

What's that post of I just want to have 17 hobbies or whatever like that

Or like. Make more shit and learn how to sell whatever fuckin weird shit I make

Also I miss the woods, cities are shit

Like phone reception is nice and you can buy more stuff I guess but everything is grey and shitty and I miss sitting in trees

I'll be better once I've slept at all I imagine, it's just when I'm tired I'm a grumpy fuck and I hate like all the stuff cs all the stuff is bullshit fuckin not really rat race or whatever you say cs my job is the lowest pressure you can get except when four different people want seven different pairs of shoes and there's a parcel needs getting and some fucker stops you on the stairs to ask inane questions about tent pegs and now you've forgotten a shoe you were sposed to get and actually now you're back with the non-waterproof kids shoes I asked for can I borrow some socks and what sandals would you recommend for Everest and one of the people who asked for leather boots has fully disappeared in a puff of smoke and will wander back from fuck-knows-where in five minutes while you're serving a family of ten at the till to demand why you didn't tell them you'd got the leather boots for them and actually I can feel my toes reaching the end of the boot I'm gonna need you to get me three sizes down from this and then I'll blame you for why I got blisters just from standing up somehow and there's an incredibly old man here to ask you to get some trousers down from the high shelf but the ASM's hidden the footstool again in a brand new place cs it's untidy to leave it where you can find it ever apparently and oh oh lovely some guy got bored waiting for the fitting room and is now trying tshirts on just stood around and someone's helpfully wrecked a display or two and half the sunglasses have been spirited out the door while you blinked and someone came to ask if a camping store sells pajamas and another twenty people have stormed out cs of the membership thing and and and

Tho tbf it's usually only like that at Xmas really, the rest of the time it's mostly dead

Well I'm gonna see if I can get 3 hours steep

[storiesofsvu]

A Redemption Earned Epilogue

Heather Dunbar x reader. Jackie Sharp x OC Warnings: language, alcohol minor mention of weed consumption, your regular dose of chaos.

If you are somehow new to this universe.. do not just dive in here..covers “home for the holidays” for bingo

Welp... this is it. This is the final chapter that I wanted this trilogy to wrap up with MONTHS ago, but i simply did not have the energy to do it. I really just wanted everything to come full circle and wrap up with a nice little bow which I think this does. I am not opposed to writing for this universe in the future, in any stage/dynamic and TBH i can't lie, I lowkey have some thoughts about head canons on "prequel" type situations, on how and why Heat ended up like she did so those might pop up eventually....

Everyone was more than well aware that Christmas was likely going to be a bit chaotic this year. It was the first year in your and Heather’s place, the first year that you were involved with hosting, and it was already a larger crowd than normal. It was also the first year there would be someone under the age of ten attending, which meant that the entire schedule of the day shifted around, it wouldn’t just be dinner, drinks and conversation.

Heather had no qualms with hosting, knowing she had you by her side to help and you were more than excited to lend a hand, this of course being the first Christmas you were officially, part of the family. The family group chat had been incredibly active as everyone had talked through plans, finding out what Lily usually did with Cody considering her parents were down South now, and what her thoughts were for this year. In the end, she was rewarded a very blessed, child free Christmas Eve while Cody tore up your and Heather’s place, watching Christmas movies, making gingerbread houses and helping wrap some last minute presents before leaving out milk and cookies for Santa and finally climbing into bed.

The plan for the morning was for the three of you to open up stockings from Santa and have a nice little breakfast before people would start to trickle over through the day. Lily ended up being the first, arriving basically at the same time as Rob (who of course had Steve in tow) the two of them claiming they simply didn’t know what to do with the morning to themselves. Naturally, Heather did have stockings prepared for everyone, letting Cody hand them out (Rob was pleasantly surprised, giving her a warm smile when she even had one for Steve).

Rob almost immediately made a beeline for the kitchen to make sure things were running smoothly in there, helping out and doing what he could. Coffee and baileys was the go to for the adults while Cody had an endless supply of hot chocolate or apple cider to choose between, Christmas cartoons playing on the television while he showed off his gifts to his mom. Heather had to shoot her a small apologetic look at just how overboard she’d already gone and Lily waved her off with a smile, a look in her eyes reminding the older woman that she’d missed out on eight years with her grandson, she didn’t need to hold back at Christmas.

The party easily flowed between the living room and the open kitchen and dining room, people moving through to grab fresh drinks or some snacks from the finger foods Heather had laid out on the bonus sitting room table. Since she did know just how early Cody had gotten up she did toss some dinosaur nuggets in the air fryer for him, making sure he got an actual lunch and wouldn’t be starving before dinner. Lily was pleasantly surprised when he actually sat down at the table to eat them, thinking that the excitement of the day and all the people would get him riled up, but instead he sat there with Rob, rambling on and on about the adventures they could go on this year.

Becca and Sarah arrived not too long after that, arms filled with bags of presents they had yet to drop off, extra bottles of wine, a pack of seltzers, a tray of pigs in a blanket, spinach dip and fried mac and cheese bites to join the array on the table. They moved through the space, greeting everyone, receiving countless congratulations on their engagement and much fawning over Sarah’s ring before finally making it into the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas!” Becca greeted with a warm smile, wrapping her mom into a tight hug before quickly giving you one and Sarah repeated the pattern as the two of you returned greetings.

“Glad you could finally make it.” Heather teased with a grin, offering them drinks, “I was about to start setting the table, am I going for eight or nine?” She raised a brow toward Becca, knowing the younger girl would know exactly who was planning on showing up.

“Uh..” she tugged her phone from her pocket, swiping to the most recent text chain from Nat, “nine, they’ll be here in forty five give or take, just wrapping things up. Oh!” She suddenly exclaimed and Heather couldn’t help but tense, “they say thanks about your realtor too, their new place is fucking gorgeous!”

“Alright.” Heather shifted forward, pressing a kiss to the top of the girl’s head, “you two head back to the living room, I’m sure Cody will want to give you your stockings.”

The girls darted off and you reached out, squeezing at Heather’s hand, giving her a reassuring smile when she looked up at you.

“What?” She asked with a fake laugh and you rolled your eyes before stepping toward her, cupping her cheeks in your hands and kissing the tip of her nose.

“I can practically feel the anxiety rushing off you.” You laughed, leaning in to kiss her softly, “you’re doing a fabulous job hosting, and everyone here loves you.” You squeezed at her cheeks gently, “if Jackie doesn’t behave, we’ll kick her out, it’s not like she’s the VP anymore.” Heather let out a soft sigh, her hands coming up to your wrists, moving your arms to her shoulders as hers wound around your waist.

“You’re right. And thank you.” With a gentle smile she leant in, stealing another kiss.

“Besides, with a kid around? Everyone’s gotta be on their best behaviour.” You kissed her cheek, “how about you go out into the living room and relax for a bit, I’ll start setting the table, and god know Rob is gonna be in here checking on the food every five minutes anyways.”

“You’re not wrong.” She chuckled, kissing your cheek and scooping up her mimosa glass before vanishing off into the living room.

Sure enough, just as you’d pulled the stack of festive plates down from the cupboard Rob was wandering into the kitchen, shooting you a grin before he pulled open the oven to check on the meat. You exchanged a bit of small talk, laughing over jokes before he deemed everything in good shape and cracked another beer and headed back out, leaving you to finish the table in somewhat of quiet peace.

Steve’s barking echoed through the house from the foyer, signalling that the final two of the party were likely arriving, a knock bouncing off the front door as Cody let out an excited squeal of more friends. Lily managed to scoop him up before the door opened and you got to the foyer in time to grab Steve’s collar so he didn’t go running outside.

“Hey.” You greeted with a warm smile to Nat and Jackie as they returned the greeting, passing of bags of gifts and a couple bottles of wine with the thank you of hosting before stepping out of boots and hanging up coats. Unsurprisingly, it was Cody who piped up over the small talk first,

“Aren’t you the president?” He asked and Jackie laughed.

“Almost, and not anymore.”

“You really didn’t want to run for the head spot?” You asked, nudging Steve back toward the living room.

“Fuck that.” She laughed her eyes suddenly widening as they darted back toward Cody and Lily, “oh my god, I’m so sorry. You must be Lily.” She extended a hand that the younger woman accepted,

“Yeah, and it’s okay.” She laughed, pressing a kiss to Cody’s cheek, “he knows not to repeat that, right bud?”

“Yup!” He exclaimed, “that’s a bad word!”

“Exactly.” Lily booped him on the nose before setting him back on his feet, “why don’t you go show Mimi that new lego set?”

He darted off without another word right as Becca popped into the entrance with a squeal, racing to wrap Nat in a bear hug.

“I’m so glad you guys came. It’s so nice to finally fucking see you again.” She quickly hugged Jackie, “drinks? Wine? Seltzer?” She paused to eye Nat for a moment, “brownie?”

“You know I’m not a member of office anymore, it doesn’t have to be a brownie, right?”

“Oh thank fucking god.” Becca laughed, “because I’ve got a massive joint in my bag and it’s always better to smoke before eating than eat.” Her eyes swept between the rest of the people in the foyer, “Lily?” The blonde hesitated with a small laugh before you nudged at her shoulder.

“Go. If you want to of course. You’ve got plenty of family willing to keep an eye on Cody, have a fun Christmas.”

“You know what that does sound fucking great.”

“Perfect.” Becca grinned, reaching for her coat as she leaned back into he living room, “Sarah! C’mon!” Her fiancée raised a brow but moved through the space as you turned to Jackie.

“Drink? We’ve got mimosas, wine, beer, seltzers, something stronger?”

“Wine would be great, thank you.” She smiled softly, following you into the house, giving a small hello and merry Christmas to the rest of the crew, her head tilting in surprise at the sight of Heather on the floor, Cody in her lap as they built legos together.

“Hey!” Heather called out to Becca, “where do you think you’re going, dinner will be ready in twenty.”

“That’s kind of the point!” Becca called back before the group of girls disappeared through the front door and you couldn’t help but laugh, Heather’s gaze directed to you, her brow furrowed as you knew something she didn’t.

“They’re going to...” you raised your fingers to mime out the action and Heather let out a small huff, rolling her eyes before returning her attention to Cody, not that she was overly surprised.

You were pleasantly surprised with the small talk you and Jackie managed to start up, although you were never the one she’d had problem with. She complimented the house, mentioning something about being thankful to use the same realtor and you replied that Becca had said their new place was stunning. It naturally resulted in a mini tour of the two of you got a little more acquainted before making your way back to the living room and things got settled amongst the adults.

The group reassembled right as timers were going off and everyone started shifting into the dining room and kitchen, hands were washed, side dishes were plated up and Rob started carving turkey and ham into slices. Pleasant conversation and laughter took over the table, compliments given out over food, and wine glasses were on a bottomless refill stream (Cody’s filled with sparkling grape juice in order to feel fancy). It was only natural that the conversation steered back towards work, Jackie congratulating Becca on her new fancy big girl job as Nat had referred to it.

“What about you?” Becca asked “are you really not gonna gun for the Oval? Or are you just on hiatus for a few years?”

“Oh, god no.” Jackie laughed in return, “eight years was enough, once that inauguration hits, I am officially retired.”

“You’ll find it is much more enjoyable than expected.” Heather commented and Jackie raised a curious brow in her direction.

“Are you no longer working?”

“No.” She laughed softly, “the firm’s still in my name, I’ll show up to board meetings every couple of months but that’s about it.”

“Are you retiring?” Becca kicked at Nat’s foot under the table, using her fingers to put quotations over the last word of her sentence and the other woman shrugged.

“Not sure. We were thinking of taking at least a year off to travel for ourselves for once but I wanted to see if you two had set a wedding date yet?”

“Oh god!” Sarah and Becca both laughed, “that’s at least a year away yet! We haven’t even started any planning.”

“Looks like we have plenty of travel time then.” Jackie smiled, her hand coming to squeeze at her wife’s before she glanced over to Heather and Rob, “you two didn’t happen to sell any of those vacation properties when you divorced, did you?”

“Where do you think I spent the first year and a half?” Heather replied with a laugh, watching the way Jackie and Nat glanced between each other, “and yes, we can give you keys to both if you’re headed out that way.”

“Where are they?” Nat asked.

“Barcelona and French Alps.” Becca replied.

“And they are both absolutely gorgeous.” Sarah noted.

Cody jumped in with a comment about vacation, asking his mom if they could go visit gramma and grampa over spring break, that he wanted them to meet Mimi and Pops and the conversation shifted on from there. You discovered you were one of the only ones at the table who’d never actually been to Florida and definitely hadn’t had the childhood experience of going to any of the theme parks and the entire thing got the ball rolling on a larger family vacation come spring.

Bellies were full, the mood was happy through the room, laughter and joy swirling through the warm indoor air. It was out of sheer instinct that you started to tidy things up, stacking up plates and moving serving bowls of food back to the kitchen island. You smiled warmly when Cody immediately jumped up to help, collecting cutlery and carefully helping load up the dishwasher. Steve had no complaints happily trotting along after the kid, eager to get whatever scraps he could before they got tossed in the garbage. Heather made a round to make sure everyone’s drinks were refilled before pulling out stacks of Tupperware so everyone had food to go home with. Once the dishwasher was started Cody turned to wash his hands and let out a gasp when he looked out the window into the backyard.

“Mimi! It’s snowing!” He let out an excited squeal, turning back to the dining room, “mom can we go play outside?!”

“I think everyone could stand to burn off a little bit of energy.” Rob replied as Lily smiled with a nod.

It wasn’t that cold outside but the snow had been coming down all afternoon, thick and fluffy enough to coat the backyard in a blanket of white. The air still had a balmy warmth to it and was the perfect temperature to be outside after being cooped up indoors with the oven going all day. Rob found the perfect excuse to turn on the outdoor fireplace and dig up a couple of large cozy blankets for the outdoor furniture.

Cody happily ran around the yard, chasing Steve or being chased by Steve, running through the playset and tossing snowballs around the place. He roped Becca into a game of tag and before they knew it all the big kids had been enlisted into a snowball fight. Drinks got switched out for steaming mugs of hot chocolate, coffee or apple cider with players choice of booze inside while the snowball fight began to die down.

Heather found herself back in the kitchen, handwashing a few of the now empty wine glasses before drying her hands on a dishtowel. She glanced up at the sound of someone coming around the corner from the washroom and both her and Jackie stalled when they realized they’d been caught alone together.

“Uh.. did you get a cider?” Heather asked.

“Is there bourbon to go in there?” Jackie asked with a near smirk and Heather couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course there is.” She poured a mug of liquid for the other woman, letting her measure out her own liquor.

“Thanks.” Jackie replied, blowing on the steaming beverage before taking a sip, “you know…never in a million years did I think I’d be saying this, but… grandmother-hood really suits you.”

“It really has been a very refreshing breath on life.” Before Jackie could reply, Cody was bounding into the kitchen.

“Mimi! We’re making a snow man; I need a carrot for the nose!” Heather chuckled, opening the fridge to pull one out,

“Anything else?”

“He’s gonna need eyes. Maybe brussel sprouts? They’re icky, no one’s going to eat them.”

“Okay…” She laughed, reaching back into the fridge for the required vegetables before he raced back out into the yard with a yell. Heather glanced up to Jackie, who was watching the boy shove back on his boots on the back porch.

“God I do not know how you do it.”

“Hmm?” She picked up her mug of cocoa, following the other woman back onto the back porch.

“I mean even for me it’s like I’m suddenly flashing back thirty years ago, this must’ve been hard for you.”

“It was a hurdle at first, that’s for sure. But I like to think of it like the second chance I never got with Jordan.”

“That’s sweet.” Jackie smiled, “he really loves you. They all do. You and y/n are so lucky to have each other.” Her gaze drifted out into the yard before turning back to the other woman, “I’m really happy for you Heather, truly. You really did realize what you were missing out on and worked your ass off to make things right. You’ve managed to create this beautiful family, and…. I am thankful to be part of it.”

A small silence over took the porch as the two of them truly let the words sink in, watching the rest of the group play. Rob had broken out the cigars, watching the chaos from the comfort of a large patio chair while Becca and Nat were cozied up on a lounger, they were snacking on something and there was no doubt it was a brownie. While you, Lily and Sarah were happily helping Cody make what was turning into a snow family.

“Thank you.” Heather finally spoke, “it really does mean a lot. And I do have to thank you for stepping up as godmother while I was gone.”

“It was nothing.” She chuckled, “easier when I can have an intellectual conversation with her.”

“Doesn’t hurt you married her best friend.”

“No. It doesn’t.” Jackie laughed and the two of them felt the little layer of ice that had been hanging in the air begin to thaw, melting away finally on a night full of love and family.

*

Across the yard, Nat’s hand suddenly clamped around Becca’s wrist, thus silencing her mid sentence.

“What?”

“They’re talking…” she stated, nodding up to the porch, “and that’s like, genuine, happy conversation with real smiles and laughs, not fake political bullshit style talking.”

“It’s a fucking Christmas miracle.”

“Oh… my god…”

“Are they about to hug?” Becca’s whisper was hissed, “how drunk are they? Is hell freezing over right now?”

“Holy fuck they’re really hugging.”

“Girls…” Rob chuckled from across the fire pit, “everyone is allowed to make amends, remember?”

“Yeah, I just never thought…” Becca trailed off.

*

Heather glanced up at movement on the small set of stairs, her head tilting at you and Cody hand in hand before he ran ahead inside.

“Bathroom break?” She asked.

“No.” You sighed with a smile, “there has been another request for The Grinch.”

“We just got out here!” She protested with a laugh, gesturing to Jackie and herself and you shrugged, stepping closer to her to steal a kiss.

“Who am I to tell a kid no on Christmas? Even if we have already watched it three times?” With a small giggle you pressed another kiss to her lips, “feel free to stay out for a bit, I’ve got him.” Behind her, Heather could feel Jackie disappearing down the stairs into the yard, no doubt to give the two of you a little bit of privacy.

“It would be nice to have a tiny bit of adult time.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve tired him out, he’ll probably be asleep within the hour.”

“Alright.”

With a soft smile she cupped at your cheek, leaning in for another kiss, her lips gently meeting yours and you couldn’t help but let out a happy hum against her. Your hand squeezing at her waist softly as you reluctantly pulled away from the kiss.

“I love you.” You murmured softly with a warm smile.

“I love you more than you could ever imagine sweetheart.” She grinned back at you and you could feel all the unspoken words flowing through the air, laughing softly and kissing her once again before disappearing into the house.

Heather watched you go through the door, the excitement in your voice as you greeted Cody in the living room before she glanced through the yard. Never in a million years did she think that her life would turn out like this, never did she think that something so welcoming, so homey, a night filled with love, laughter and affection would be a Christmas in her household. Yet here she was, with her own little found family creating the greatest thing that she never would have expected.  She was happy, beyond happy, and so head over heels in love she nearly didn’t believe it herself. Everything was perfect, it was finally perfect, yet it was so drastically different from her previous thoughts on perfection.

So when she finally said goodnight to the last guest to leave, knowing that everyone else was set up in a guest room for the night and she flicked off the light on the main floor, she knew that she was exactly where she needed to be. She may have been to hell and back, she may have put people through hell and back, but she had grown, she’d become the better person she needed to be, and she now had the life she had always dreamed of and would never forget. She crawled into bed that night feeling happier than she’d ever felt in her life, smiling happily as you rolled in her arms, awake just enough to kiss her gently, wishing her a merry Christmas and reminding her just how much you loved her. In return she pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, repeating that she loved you, and how thankful she was for you, and for her family.

“I love you Heat… I always will.” You murmured, burying tighter into her embrace as you let out a happy sigh, “don’t ever forget that.”

“Believe me… I never will.”

________

@mickey-gomez @naturalxselection @yesterdaysgone @hbkpop @giftedchildturns40 @anya-casablanca @svulife-rl  @swimmingstudentchaos891 @alexusonfire @red1culous @oliviaswifey @mysticfalls01 @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @svushots @yourtaletotell @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @addictedtodinosaurss @imaginaryoperaglovess @multifandomlesbianic @bookpillows @drduckthief @whimsicallymad @mmmmokdok @momlifebehard @mmemalwa @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howll @dead-of-niight @borg-queer @godard-muse  @itisdoctortoyousir @brooklynmhm @emilyprentiss4life @httpjupiterbby @summergeezburr @thatesqcrush  @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @alcabots  @wandsmxmff

[staysuki]

040—FARTHER, FARTHER, FARTHER AWAY

warnings: none.

word count: 2.8k

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how long has it been? ten? fifteen years? maybe more?

you’ve long let go of the concept of time—it’s merely just a social construct anyways. however, you can’t help but distinguish its passing by every big mark that happens in your life.

after three years passed with your last contact with felix, your friends have graduated, and you somehow ended up marrying seo changbin.

yeah. ridiculous.

had your high school selves predicted this outcome, you both would’ve cursed each other out. but this wasn’t a forever union of love and marital submission—it was a bargain agreed upon by both parties to benefit from the act.

when changbin gained fame with chan in their famous music duo called 2RACHA, he thought he can finally escape the chains of entrepreneurship. to finally be free from the conglomerate lifestyle that was laid out for him because he can finally find success elsewhere.

too bad he didn’t expect the chain to be tighter than it is. when his father told him that the only way he can escape the clutches of his fate is by paving the way with his own family, changbin felt his heart shatter.

there, you come in, with your brilliant (and stupid) idea of being wed together—to form your own family. it got you back your connections with the high society life and even managed to signal boost your father’s startup. meanwhile, changbin’s family just sighed and shook their head at their son’s desperation. thank god they didn’t ask for grandchildren.

soon enough, he was free—and so were you. sure, the headlines called you different names, all ranging from “user” to “gold digger” to “social climber” but some argue about your past with changbin. you used to be rich and had been in the same friend circle since high school, so, some say it’s a sort of cinderella story where the rich prince saves the poor peasant.

barf.

you and changbin just laughed at all of them. however, your marriage barely lasted two years. a few months after your first anniversary, you both celebrated a new taste of freedom after divorcing. of course, there were never any romantic feelings in the mix, so the split was natural—you both didn’t even feel it, for a while, you even kept living with him in his city apartment (alongside chan who was barely home and preferred living in the studio).

after that, you started working for 2RACHA as their manager slash marketing director. it was probably one of the most fun things you’ve ever done, it didn’t even feel like you were working for them, but instead, with them.

being on the road for their touring acts effectively made you tune out everything else in your life except for the job and your friends.

although you’ve all been busy, you still managed to catch up with the others over a few texts.

you know gaon and nana have been going steady—with gaon suddenly pursuing music and nana still overtaking their business, yerin is pursuing her doctorate, momo is trying to get another degree that isn’t in the arts, dowoon is branching out with an energy drink brand, while minho is focused on dominating japan.

yup, everyone’s doing well in their regard, even you. with how everything started, you wouldn’t think that things would take a turn this way—it was… unpredictable. looking back on it, you felt a little short-sighted.

so? how long has it been.

after felix, three years passed. you got married then got divorced after a year and a half. ever since then, time went on as it normally does—and now you’re well into your mid-30s.

so, yes, it’s been a long time. surely you would be thinking of different things by now. it’s been a long time since your divorce, perhaps there’s already someone else in your life—someone that you can actually build a family with. right?

right?

unfortunately, no.

even changbin shakes his head at you at times, saying that your insistence on sticking with the things you want will eventually be your downfall. but how can you not hope for a happy ending for the man you love when all he’s gone through is suffering?

is it a crime to wish that lee felix is alive and well? no, it isn’t.

you respected his wishes and stopped tracking him down a decade and a half ago after he said goodbye, but you like to think that he’s still keeping watch. you made sure to make your presence as loud as possible.

during your marriage with changbin, you made no attempts to hide your motives to the public, and you had no issues with the news stations making a big deal of your divorce.

whenever 2RACHA has media appearances, you made sure to draw your presence all over it. you wanted to be easily spotted, so that wherever felix may be, he’ll always be updated in your life.

you even made a small vlog channel to document little things in your life. you weren’t the most consistent with it (paired with dowoon’s teasing about your lazy editing) but it was enough. besides, people didn’t follow you for the glamour, they followed you because of you.

still, no matter how loud you shouted, no matter how long you waited, there was no sign of lee felix anywhere in your life.

though perhaps, you’re soon to learn that you just weren’t looking hard enough.

somewhere, in another part of the world, an unconventional duo sat side by side at an izakaya—both picking at their sushi and bottles of japanese sake.

“you know she’s gonna kill me once she finds out,” minho laughed, looking at his newfound friend.

“not if she kills me first,” the deep voice grumbles with a similar light tone, mischief still dancing around his tired eyes.

when felix ran away to japan, he didn’t expect lee minho to be the one to lend him a helping hand. by that time, he was working hard at a fish shop and had just heard about your marriage. at first, he was utterly heartbroken, but it didn’t take two braincells to figure out what was going on at play.

still, he was stupid enough to wallow away in some lowkey bar—only to come across the rich man, lee minho, himself.

it was merely a coincidence, two broken souls deeply saddened by the sudden revelation of an unlikely marriage. it was then that the two realized how stupid the sudden marriage was—well, it was mostly because lee minho kept bombarding changbin with angry, sad, and betrayed texts. so changbin had no choice but to spill every detail about the union.

the cocky bastard even had the gall to send an invitation to minho (who ignored it the moment he saw it in the mail).

that night with felix helped minho move on, but for felix, that was the night that made him invested in your life. the night where he finally couldn’t stop himself from stalking your social media every single day.

however, if he wanted to come back and see the real you, he needed to play the long game. a game that minho helped him finish.

first, felix had to keep living his lowkey life, earning minimum wage by cutting fish. all the while, they both tracked down the men that were after felix, and made sure that they’ll be off his trace—for good.

it was no easy task, especially for felix, who wanted to escape the dirty life, and for minho, who never had a taste of it in the first place.

it took them two years to succeed, two long years. by then, you’ve just recently separated with changbin (much to felix’s delight). minho laughed at him back then, but they both knew they were far from a reunion.

felix still doesn’t deem himself worthy to reach out to you.

now, he must reform.

he lost all of his money and is now basically just a newborn man. if he wants to fly back from japan, he needs the money for it—lee minho didn’t offer. of course, man to man, he knew felix wouldn’t accept it.

instead, he offered felix a job in one of their smaller branches. one stationed nagoya, so as to not be too suspicious with the pseudo-nepotism.

this, on the other hand, was easy. felix was a smart guy who knew his way around computers. he easily rose through the ranks (albeit with small steps) and managed to work his way to a managerial position despite not having a lot of corporate experience (because he can’t exactly detail the skills he learned in his criminal background).

at first, felix was afraid that minho would snitch on him right away. perhaps get him fed to the sharks or worse, call you. but he’s been a good friend (surprisingly enough).

“it’s the least i could do,” minho would always tell him, yet never really bothered to give a full explanation. but it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. minho has kept everyone away from you in an attempt to keep you to himself, and now, he’s doing everything in his power to successfully reunite you with your love.

it was hard, not telling you, knowing it would make you happy, but minho has grown as an individual and can understand the concept of temporary gratification. even if you knew right away, it would still be the same—everything in disarray and chaos.

so, all he can do is help out felix in every step of the way whilst maintaining his secret.

it would’ve been hard for felix, but seeing you everywhere definitely gave him a stronger drive. watching your videos on youtube or seeing you in articles. it made his heart swell, always whispering a faint, “just a little longer, wait for me.” though he can’t selfishly proclaim it to you.

still, a huge part of him knows that you are—it would explain why you’re still single 15 years later. which is the biggest reason why felix is so confident to go home after so many years have passed.

despite how much he tries to hide it, he can’t stop his possessiveness when it comes to you.

“you think everything will go well?” the freckled boy asks his friend who simply smirks at him.

“it’s very unlike you to be anxious,” minho points out.

“she always makes me anxious,” felix explains, pertaining to you. minho can only nod and pat felix on the back.

“everything will go well. it has to be.”

the plan was simple.

2RACHA picks up felix at the airport and then they’d all make a surprise celebration—everything sweet and romantic to celebrate your reunion with felix.

but things are never simple with you, because you simply won’t give up.

following the days until the reunion, you’ve noticed chan and changbin acting weird—well, mostly changbin. you could tell they were both giddy and excited about something and since you were always the first one to know whether they were cooking up a new track, you knew that it wasn’t that.

so, what was 2RACHA hiding from you? a trip at the airport? probably minho, you thought to yourself.

but when you dragged your ass to sneakily follow them during d-day and see a familiar back with a familiar set of blonde hair—the first thing you felt was as if you were brought back 15-20 years in the past.

still, the three men took zero notice of your looming presence as you slowly inched your way to their position. they were hugging and laughing amongst themselves as if they’ve been together all this time.

“man i can’t believe you’re still blonde, your hair must be so fried now,” chan comments as he ruffles the younger’s hair.

but before felix could say another word to chan, he felt a rigid handbag hit him behind the head, your gucci one to be specific, “ow—what—”

a set of lips shut him up before he could even turn around to acknowledge you—well, either way, they were your lips aggressively crashing into his without a moment’s break. it was felix’s turn to be brought back into the past.

kissing you felt like the past and the future at the same time—the feeling was so dreamlike that he can’t believe he finally got to feel you and inhale your scent within his reach. it felt too good to be true, but it’s his reality now.

when you pull away, felix wasn’t ready to part from your proximity, so he grabs you by the nape to push your head back into his eager lips—hungry and yearning to keep your mouth on his. he felt like he was in cloud 9, addicted in the taste of you, oh so sweet and familiar yet it feels like it’s new every time.

“i think that’s enough traumatizing the airport-goers,” chan comments, pulling you two away from each other’s arms before felix could start feeling you up in the arrivals area where people are passing by.

even though you already miss each other’s warmth, no words were needed to be said now that you’ve made each other feel all that you’ve both felt during the time you’re not together. the separation anxiety—the obsession.

but now, nobody can set you two apart. felix knows it, and you can feel it in the way he carries himself—confident, bold, and proud. no longer hiding away from the crowd.

he’s ready to be who he is and reclaim the normal life he’s always reached for. he wanted to make sure that coming back to you for the last time would be permanent, and feeling you now, he can finally say that the wait was worth it.

after all the years you’ve met and become separated, the first time was the trailer park, the second was in the small town.

and now, third time’s the charm, right?

you didn’t even care for the celebration anymore, nor the surprise. now that their cover has been blown, they just let you take away felix to wherever you wanted to bring him.

“bring him back in one piece!” changbin shouts as you stuff felix in your car with much eagerness it made the freckled boy laugh out loud.

“i’m not going anywhere, love,” he assures you but you couldn’t get enough of him.

at first, you couldn’t choose where to bring him. you felt excited, giddy in the car thinking of all the places where you could take him. all the places you’ve been to while thinking about him, all the places you’ve been to where you immediately thought of bringing him.

but now, there was no place like home.

so, you asked the driver to take a sharp turn towards a certain small town. a place you’ve never been to before: his house.

“so this is where you lived during college,” you comment as you park outside a modest estate. the freckled man nods beside you, never letting go of your hand for a single second.

“it was the first property i’ve ever bought—even though i still couldn’t use my real name,” felix explains as he welcomes you inside the house.

it was barren with little to no furniture aside from the basics—making the house look empty with all the unused space, “it’s always been like this, i never really bothered decorating it,” he says.

“well, now you can,” you comment but felix shakes his head.

“i don’t own this place anymore—” felix was about to say but you cut him off with a knowing smile.

“welcome home, felix,” you say to him with tears welling in your eyes, one that’s mirroring his.

he pulls you in a tight embrace and takes a deep breath. this is real, he keeps telling himself, “i love you, this is real, this is real, i love you so much,” he keeps muttering, and you can’t help but chuckle because of his inner babblings—probably something he doesn’t realize he’s saying out loud.

you embrace him tighter, not wanting to let go ever, “i love you too, idiot. now stop running away.”

synopsis: rich yet down-to-earth. devilishly handsome yet an angelic sweetheart. before you transferred to university, lee felix had already established a fine reputation for himself—beloved by everyone, a personality that can bring world peace. but something seems off—because you've definitely seen him before, and he's not as sweet as he makes himself out to be.

taglist: @mochisnlix @pikapikapikaachuu @justyournormalsimp @yubinism @beaann @kangyounghyunhands @chi-haku @chefmingyu @imnyti @fraeppuccino @aerastus @lananhdn @indelicate-macalino

mastertag: @leagreenly @90s-belladonna @fuzzylard @loveliebri @chimmybaek7 @todorokiskitten @lilacdreams-00 @ethereallino @ninjaleeknow @trials--error @hey-i-really-miss-you @multifandomizer @aerastus @caratinylyfe @kdhvier @hibuki-chan @blaaiissee @skzoddinaries @suhnnyskiess

thoughts and feedback pls 🤲

[retrievablememories]

moonlight | jaehyun (m)

title: moonlight pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: smut request: “Hi 😘 Nct members going to a strip club and jaehyun getting a private dance that turns into fucking scenario please? Can be smutty” word count: 3.2k warnings: sex work, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, riding a/n: I admittedly don’t know much about strip clubs at my big age of 23 💀 I researched what I could but took some creative liberties. I only included a handful of nct members here since that is a looot of men lol 

“Don’t look now, but your pretty boy and his group of friends are back. Diane says their car is outside,” Anya says, walking into the dressing room where the rest of the girls are. Your interest is piqued at this, though you pretend not to hear her as you finish applying your makeup. Serena isn’t so quick to let you off the hook.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend? Your little boy toy?” Serena asks, leaning closer and batting her eyelashes at you.

You pause with the mascara wand in your hand. “What boyfriend?” you scoff, though you already know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Girl, stop pretending like you’re not into him or some shit. You look at him almost as much as he stares at you!” Anya rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip, looking every bit of an Amazon in her 6-inch heels.

“He’s yet to request a private dance, so…I’m not sweatin’ over him. And anyway, he’s no boyfriend of mine if he ain’t paying the bills.”

“Okay, I heard that one!” Both Serena and Anya laugh at your comment. But now that you know he’s here, you are suddenly a little more motivated to dance well tonight. Not that you don’t already, but a little extra never hurt anyone.

Him and his idol friends come around to Moonlight every so often, one weekend or so a month, to get their rocks off. They’re from that kpop group NCT, and you’ve figured out the one who stares is Jaehyun. But you don’t know a ton about them other than those bare facts.

With Moonlight being one of a few ultra-diverse strip clubs in Seoul, it rose to popularity fairly quickly after its establishment. And to no one’s surprise — no one who truly knows the game, anyway — there are always a lot of kpop idols who come to watch the dancers. Their fans would undoubtedly be scandalized if they knew, but hey, that ain’t your problem. You’re here to make money, have fun, and seduce starry-eyed, lonely men. If they’re attractive, that’s only a bonus.

The House Mother, Daya, comes to stand in the doorway and calls your name. “You’re up next girl, so move that ass!”

“I’m coming,” you sigh dramatically, but there are no hard feelings at all. She’s one of the nicer club owners in this part of the city, one who treats all the girls like equals no matter what their skin color or creed is. And when you work in a club as popular and as multicultural as Moonlight, you need someone there to keep the drama to a minimum.

--

The club is as dim as ever, but the stage lights remain at a low shine, ready to come on full blast once the next dancer appears. The music thumps so heavily that the bass seems to become one with the building, making every part of the club feel alive with energy. A group of 5 men enter, weaving their way through the seats to make it to their usual spot next to the stage.

“Wow, can’t believe we’re actually in a strip club right now, haha…” Mark tries to play it cool, but he’s not very good at hiding his nervousness. This is only his first strip club outing with the other boys, after all. He taps his fingers on his legs like he’s playing the drums.

“Yeah, could’ve sworn we were on Mars instead,” Doyoung says, and the others laugh while Mark rolls his eyes.

Mark isn’t the only one whose nerves are getting to him, though. Johnny notices Jaehyun’s restless demeanor as the rest of them settle in, and he muffles a laugh, nudging the younger man. “God, I hope that one dancer you like is here tonight, you look like you’re about to come out of your clothes.”

“She’s way out of your league,” Ten snickers.

“Stop acting like I’m ugly. I could get her any time,” Jaehyun argues, glaring at the other man.

“She’s a woman of her own, not something you can take as you please, Jaehyun!” Johnny says, and both Ten and Jaehyun laugh.

“Johnny, you should keep an eye out for your own crush.” Doyoung gives him a knowing look, and he only laughs sheepishly in response.

It isn’t long before you appear on the stage, the club bursting with cheers and claps and the dual spotlights flickering to full illumination. The spotlights glisten on your skin and reflect off the light pink lingerie set you’re wearing, making you look akin to a goddess—at least in Jaehyun’s eyes. You step out from behind the velvety curtains, letting the fabric caress your body before making your way towards the pole in the middle of the stage.

Your signature song plays as you twist yourself around the pole and perform your favorite tricks, letting yourself be hyped up and carried away by the people around you calling your stage name and throwing bills at your feet. The world spins as you do, revolving around the pole with your legs touching the sky. You grin at the upside-down faces staring back at you, leaving your charm to do all the talking.

You finish your pole routine by slowly sliding down to the base of it and landing carefully in a split. Your back is facing the NCT boys, though you look over your shoulder to flash a sultry look at the audience. This one is always a crowd-pleaser—though you also use this move as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s expression. You aren’t disappointed by the hunger written across his gaze.

You gracefully turn your body to them, getting on your hands and knees so they have a full view of your chest. As you crawl closer to the end of the stage, Jaheyun’s figure grows clearer underneath the club’s simultaneously dark and light atmosphere. He’s close enough to reach out and touch. 

So you do—bringing your legs out in front of you and spreading them in an appealing stretch before resting them on his shoulders, one after the other. Other men in the club seethe with envy. Jaehyun himself is stuck like a fish out of water, blushing madly but also completely into your display.

Beside him, Doyoung whoops and Johnny whistles. You lift your legs off of Jaehyun gracefully and follow the move by letting your silk robe slip off your shoulders, fully exposing the bare skin of your shoulders and back. Even this is enough to get the men riled up again, and you revel in their cheers.

Jaehyun knows enough strip club etiquette than to try to touch you, and you take advantage of this by gliding off the stage and circling him like he’s your prey. You purposely brush your silk robe over his body, letting it cocoon him in your scent. His fingers drift across it, and he wonders if it could possibly be as soft as your skin looks—or maybe you’re even softer.

Before he can truly get into it, you’ve flitted off to another nearby table of men, taking your silk with you.

“Holy fuck,” Mark looks like a deer in the headlights, and his legs are crossed uncomfortably to hide his obvious boner. 

“The baby’s gonna implode!” Ten laughs.

“Well hold it, because the night is just beginning!” Doyoung shouts.

Jaehyun’s eyes keep coming over to you even as you rotate to one of the other, smaller platforms in the club, another girl taking your spot on the main stage.

--

“You really put it on him tonight, huh?” Serena says, putting her arm around your shoulders. “He’s totally in love. Watch him come to the next show with an engagement ring.” You chuckle at that idea. You find it strangely endearing. You wouldn’t marry him without knowing him, of course, but the idea of having him that tightly wrapped around your finger makes you grin.

You don’t have long to think about it before Daya is coming to break up your kiking fest.

“You’ve got a request for a private dance from one Jaehyun. Sound familiar?” Daya announces. Serena nudges you, and you nod. Daya raises her eyebrows. “You up for it?”

The corners of your lips curl up in a smile. “Give me 5 to freshen up.”

--

Moonlight holds a dozen or so rooms within its second story, all solely reserved for private dances. You climb the stairs slowly in your heels, partly because you don’t want to trip and partly because you’re slightly nervous about what to expect. There’s an abundance of security guards stationed on this level—and each room has an emergency button—so you’re not worried about safety, per se. Whoever this Jaehyun guy really is, you hope he can meet a few of your expectations, at least. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you’ve built him up in your mind more than you’ve allowed yourself with other club-goers.

The room number is 202. You stand in front of the door for a few moments to take several deep breaths. Then you relax your body, talking yourself back into your Performance mode, and open the door.

“Who’s this handsome man?” Jaehyun looks up to see you standing in the doorway, still wearing your outfit from the stage. He sits up on the plush black couch that stands out from the blazing purple hue of the rest of the room. A row of mirrors frames the wall behind the couch, reflecting your own figure back to you. He looks a bit disheveled, with his shirt unbuttoned and his slacks crooked, but it’s a good look for him.

He leans forward to drink in your body, his eyes drifting up from the garters resting against your thighs to the lacy bra covering your breasts, and you smile underneath his gaze. “Jaehyun. And you’re ______...right?”

“Of course. You should know me by now, special boy,” you tease, sauntering over to him to sit on the couch beside him, instead of his lap like he expected. Still, you hover incredibly close to him, your hand sliding against his lapels and stroking the fabric of his button-up right where it unfolds against his skin. “After all, you’ve stared enough.”

“It’s hard not to.” Jaehyun rakes his eyes across your body as if he’s dying to touch it. You smirk and stand up again, sliding off your silk robe and throwing it to him as you wind your body to the music coming from the room’s speakers.

“What would your girlfriend say?” you tease.

His eyes widen at that. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t act so scandalized about it...men with girlfriends and wives come here all the time. It’s shitty...but it’s life.” You say this while twisting your hips in his face, and he initially seems a little too distracted to realize you’ve said anything. Then it registers.

“That’s....do you like this j-job, at least?” Jaehyun’s breath hitches at the end of his sentence when you drape yourself across his body, your head resting back on his shoulder and your ass pressing against the undeniable bulge in his pants. Still, he doesn’t touch you, which you are grateful for—many other men haven’t been so tactful during private dances—so you continue servicing him without a care in the world.

“It’s fun, and I get to meet handsome men like you.” Your fingers ghost across his jawline, drifting only inches away but not making contact. “There’s a lot to like about it.”

You move away and he thinks you mean to get up, but you only turn to face him. “You can touch me now, if you’d like. I think you’ve been a good boy…”

You grind in Jaehyun’s lap and are delighted when he responds in kind, pushing his hips up to meet yours. Your faces are inches apart. You are practically breathing in sync, smiling like there’s a secret only the two of you know.

You make the first move by kissing him, and he slants his mouth against yours as if your lips have always belonged together.

You grasp Jaehyun’s hand and lead it to your hip, and he takes the cue to rest both of his hands on your waist, simply following your directions.

He does take the lead with the kiss, though, biting your lip as you gently pull away, and tugging you back in. He tastes like alcohol, and as cliché as it is, it makes you feel a bit drunk—but that might also be due to his demeanor itself.

“How long have you wanted this?” you ask, sliding your hand into his black shirt and drawing your nails across his skin—not painfully hard, but enough to make him throb under you.

“Maybe too long,” he says. “You’re very beautiful.”

You smile. “Aren’t we a perfect match, then?” Your hand slides lower, to his abdomen and the muscles you can feel even under his dress shirt, and then to his belt. “Would you like to continue?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

You unbuckle his belt, sliding the leather through his belt loops and dropping it off to the side somewhere. You slide yourself off his lap to kneel in front of him as you caress his lower half, rubbing your hands up his thighs and across his bulge, underneath his clothing to feel his abs, and then back again. 

Unzipping his dress pants is equally fun. You watch him sweat and feel him shudder as you drag the zipper down with your teeth. You pull his underwear down after, slowly drawing the material over his skin on purpose. His cock springs out, hard and thick and flushed with need, and you lean forward to drag your mouth over it, base to tip.

Jaehyun is heavy and warm against your lips and he smells good, like male musk, like pheromones and desire. You hold the base as you slap his dick on your tongue and he rolls his head back, making a sound between a groan and a laugh as if he can’t believe this is happening.

He doesn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he lets you do the work of sliding him into your mouth as far as you can take, drooling over his dick and sucking him so messily that it makes his knees quiver. The groans and grunts you pull out of him are lovely to hear—you feel good to know that you can bring him this much pleasure so easily. His precum drips into your mouth, salty on your tastebuds.

Jaehyun is pliable in your hands as you stroke his shaft, focusing your tongue on his leaking tip. You feel his thumb brushing the back of your neck, his hand settling on your nape as he watches you suck his dick. He curses under his breath when you scrape your teeth against him very gently, giving just enough pressure to make it feel good.

Soon, you feel Jaehyun nearing in your mouth, his cock throbbing harder and his thighs trembling around you.

“I-I want to fuck you,” Jaehyun says abruptly. You pull back to look at him through your eyelashes. You leave a trail of spit lingering between your lips and his dick, and he looks like he might come right then.

“Such a greedy boy.” You lift yourself to be level with his eyes, tilting his chin with your fingertips. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” He looks like he isn’t totally certain that’s the right answer, and it makes you laugh. In response to his request, you turn to face the door, bending over and making a show of unclipping your garters and sliding your thong down before straightening to remove them completely. Jaehyun moans at that.

You turn back to see that he’s already taken care of the condom. He groans beautifully for you again when you crawl back onto his lap and slide him inside of you, clenching around his hard length.

You start with a slow and winding rhythm at first, not entirely hellbent on teasing him but not willing to let him blow his load too soon, either. His hands are all over your body at this point, gripping your ass and your breasts and whatever else he can get his hands on. He pulls your bra down and tugs your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. 

You laugh at his eagerness, riding him harder.

Jaehyun plants his feet straight on the ground and starts thrusting up into you and you cry out at the added sensation, his tip hitting against your g spot and making you sweat and tremble.

“Fuck, you’re good,” you sigh, digging your nails into his shoulder as you fuck each other at the perfect pace.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he says in between sucking your nipples. “I’ve gotta taste it.”

“N-next time.” Your body squeezes around him again as he brings one of his hands to the front to rub your clit. You’re glad the music is loud, otherwise there’d be no hiding your noises or the sound of your skin slapping together.

You feel wild and free in a way you haven’t in a long time, and you let yourself scrape your nails across his skin and bite at his neck as you fuck yourself harder on his dick.

You and Jaehyun kiss and thrust against each other like you’ll never get to do it again, with all the delicious hurriedness that a quick and tension-filled type of fuck can offer.

“I’m c-close.” Jaehyun groans this into your hair as you’ve gone back to biting his neck again. He grips your ass and holds you tighter against him, if at all possible, and pushes himself into your spot with renewed energy. His hand still works your clit, just shy of being firm enough to hurt—but practiced enough to provide pleasure.

“Not without me,” you say, licking the shell of his ear. “What would your friends say?”

“They wouldn’t know, because right now, you’re mine alone.” He slaps your ass and that’s enough to get you spilling onto him, crying his name right into his eardrum as you shudder and tighten around him.

Jaehyun comes soon after, thrusting a few more times and settling himself deep inside you as he fills the condom. He leans his head against the couch and you watch as he vocalizes his pleasure, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he arches into you.

You feel sated and a bit sleepy now, but your shift isn’t over yet and there are still more shows to be done. You lay a kiss on Jaehyun’s throat before gingerly untangling yourself from him and redressing, making sure everything is in place.

Jaehyun throws away the condom and does the same for himself, though there won’t be any hiding the bruises you’ve left on his neck. He looks in the mirrors behind him and blushes at the sight of them, brushing his fingers over them.

“Sorry honey. Hope your friends don’t tease you too much over it.” You smile sympathetically, though you aren’t terribly sorry. You move to open the door but Jaehyun calls out wait, and you pause.

He slides a piece of paper with his number on it into your hand and gives you a smirk. “Don’t forget our promise. ‘Next time,’ remember?”

You tuck the paper into your bra and make a note to put it somewhere safer once you get to the dressing room. “Of course, baby.” With that, you are gone, and Jaehyun is left with the memories—and the marks—to remind him of you until you meet again.

[queenmylovely]

Hey hope you're well 😊 i think the holiday advent idea is lovely! Id like to request something that just popped into my head if you would like to write it, no worries if not 😊 So I was thinking Queen are doing an album release party which also happens to be on new years eve and you work for a music magazine and have to interview the band members, you're nervous because its Queen and obviously you're a huge fan, and have a crush on rog 😁 and you bump into him before the interview and he has his flirt on but you're trying to stay professional because you know you have to interview him later, and then after the interview (which incldues a few suggestive comments and a bit of teasing) you bump into each other again on the dancefloor just as the clock strikes 12! 😁 sorry if its a bit cheesy but i think you could put your own cool spin on it😁 💕

bonus holiday advent post! since this was nye themed, I figured dec 30th was the perfect day to post it. Anyway, I really liked this and had fun with it so I hope you like it as well! (no warnings, 1.9k)

☆☆☆

Walking into a giant ballroom filled with lights, music, and people, you tried to take it all in and calm yourself with a deep breath. There were quite a few people you recognized and many you didn’t, but none of them would recognize you. This was your first big assignment for your magazine, after your editor had finally seen your worth when you filled in for a sick coworker at a Fleetwood Mac concert a month ago. Now, you were at a release party for Queen’s new album, News of the World, which they had decided to host on New Year’s Eve.

It had been one thing to go to a Fleetwood Mac concert and do a review, but going to a release party and actually interviewing the band was a whole nother level, and you were trying not to freak out. Not only your dignity, but your career, depended on you being able to hold yourself together professionally before, during, and after the interview. All of this was going to be harder as well considering you had a massive crush on the drummer, Roger Taylor. You had yet to see any of the members of the band on your initial survey of the room, a fact that you were glad for, and hoped that you could keep a relative distance until the time of the interview.

As per the directions of your editor, you had gone out and bought a nice outfit for the occasion with the company credit card. You had tucked your press pass into your clutch as soon as you were through the doors in a further effort to fit in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter for the same reason.

Skirting around the edges of the room until you came to a group of high tables without chairs, you stood at one, content to people watch and get a good feel for the energy of the party so that you would be able to convey it well through your writing. Most people’s clothes ranged from cocktail party to black tie, though a couple were wearing something akin to circus performer costumes. This would have been confusing, but you had read and heard lots of far stranger things about parties hosted by rockstars, so you just accepted it.

You had finished your glass of champagne a few minutes ago but had decided not to get another so you could stay alert for the interview when you saw someone walking over to you out of the corner of your eye. Turning to greet them with a smile, your stomach dropped when you realized who it was: Roger Taylor.

“Hi,” you said, hoping you sounded normal while you fell to pieces on the inside.

“Hi,” he said with an easy smile. He held up one of the two champagne flutes in his hands, “Looked like you needed a top up.”

You bit your lip and hesitated for a second, but figured you just wouldn’t drink it all and accepted, clinking your glass with his and taking a sip.

“So, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, looking you up and down in a way that made your cheeks feel hot. “What’s your name?”

You told him just your first name, in case he knew who was interviewing him later. Even though you were completely flustered, you were going to use this opportunity to see what he was like not during an interview.

“I’m Roger,” he replied.

“I know,” you told him and he smirked, but since it was playful you laughed.

“So do you always stand off to the side alone at parties?” he asked as if he were just curious, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “I like observing.”

“Hmm, I’m more of a partaker, but I’ll give it a try,” Roger said, coming around to the side of the table you were on and standing right next to you, the front of his left shoulder just inches behind your right one. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him but took another deep breath in to center yourself.

“So what exactly are you observing?” Roger leaned in to ask, his breath tickling the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Actually,” you said, turning to him quickly so he had to tilt his head back to avoid knocking your heads together. You suppressed a laugh, “You could probably help me out. I was wondering who those people are.”

Roger reluctantly broke eye contact with you to follow where your hand was gesturing, making a sound of understanding when he recognized who they were, “oh yeah, a couple years ago Fred went to some circus afterparty or something and ever since he’s invited whatever circus performers are in town to our parties because ‘we need them to offset all the boring executives.’”

He did a bit of an impression of Freddie Mercury that made you laugh, which he seemed to like.

“You know, I haven’t seen any of your bandmates in the crowd yet,” you said, hoping more conversation would distract you from how close he was and how interested he was making it clear he was.

“Well let’s see, last I saw Deaky he was up by the speakers; the man loves to dance. And Brian was over by the bar when I left him. Freddie could honestly be anywhere, but actually he’s wearing almost exactly the same color blue as you,” Roger told you, lightly touching the fabric of your dress, his palm just barely resting on your waist.

He watched your reaction, waiting to see what you would do next, whether you would welcome the contact or brush him off. You looked at his hand, then up at him, feeling his fingertips tense ever so slightly when he saw the look in your eyes. But you weren’t quite sure what to do; on one hand Roger Taylor’s hand was on your waist, on the other, you were supposed to be interviewing him very soon and any sort of fraternization wouldn’t be very professional.  

Before you could decide, someone walked towards you and you looked over to see who it was, Roger withdrawing his hand at the same time.

It was the man who you had set up the interview with, Jim something? You weren’t sure that he had seen Roger’s hand, but you really hoped he hadn’t.

“It’s time,” he said with a small smile, gesturing a hand towards a pair of couches you could see on the other end of the short wall of the room.

“Can’t the interview wait Miami, I’m in the middle of a conversation,” Roger asked, a bit of whine making its way into his voice.

“I actually was talking to her, but yes, you’ll have to come along as well,” Miami replied shortly, turning and walking away, not waiting for you two to follow.

Roger turned to you, his eyebrows practically to his hairline, “You’re the reporter?”

You started walking and Roger kept up pace with you, “Yes.”

He laughed wryly, “Oh you’re good, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who approached me, actually,” you reminded him with the raise of a brow.

“Well-- I--” Roger spluttered, trying to find his way out but failing before you had reached the rest of the band.

You smiled brightly and introduced yourself to the other three, sitting opposite of them on the other couch. They exchanged glances between you and Roger, especially when he elected to sit next to you rather than squish in with the three of them, but didn’t say anything.

From there, the interview actually went really well. Roger didn’t seem to harbor any resentment that you didn’t tell him you were going to interview him. If anything, he was more open with his flirting, making little quips and innuendos that led to a lot of ducking your head. A couple times the others intervened with a “Sorry about him, darling” from Freddie, a couple of pointed throat clearings from Brian, and a somewhat subtle kick in the shin from John. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have minded what he was saying except that you were trying to act professional in front of his bandmates and their manager, as well as get your story.

But overall, the four of you got along great, falling into a good conversation rather than an awkward interview. They appreciated that you asked informed questions about their music, which you were happy about because you had done a lot of research in preparation. Another favorite topic was fashion and you and Freddie spent a good five minutes raving about the boutique you had bought the dress from. It was kinda sad to be done with the interview, but Miami intervened, telling the band they had to get back to meet with some executives.

While they went and did that, you went to the hallway, doing a quick happy dance at how well it went before finding the phone and calling your editor.

---

Brian and Freddie were taking the brunt of the interest from the executives as they had written the most songs, so Deaky turned to Roger and nodded towards the hallway where you were visible, talking on the phone.

“Bet she’s telling her editor all about how Roger the womanizer wouldn’t stop hitting on her during the interview,” he said sardonically.

Roger’s smile from seeing your excited gestures fell, “What?”

“I’ll just say that Fred and Bri will be disappointed if the interview isn’t focused on our music,” Deaky said, a warning in his tone.

Roger swallowed and nodded in understanding.

---

By the time your editor had let you off the phone, it was only about ten minutes to midnight. You made your way through the excited crowd to the packed bar, hoping to grab a drink in time for the New Year. It was taking a while but you were still smiling to yourself about the interview when you felt a tap on the shoulder.

It was Roger, once again holding two flutes of champagne.

“Need a drink?” he asked, his smile almost a bit shy.

You grinned back and accepted, cheersing and taking a drink with him.  

“So--”

“So--”

“Oh go ahead,” Roger told you.

“I was just going to say sorry that I didn’t tell you I was a reporter, if you want anything to be off the record, just tell me what and I won’t print it,” you told him quickly. “What were you gonna say?”

Roger huffed a laugh, “Just that I’m sorry if I distracted from the interview. I should’ve let you do your job.”

“I think a lie of omission and unprofessionalism are about equal offences. No hard feelings?” you asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You grasped it and couldn’t help but notice how warm he still was, and how the calluses on his fingers from drumming felt against your hands. Then Roger pulled you forward by your hand and you stumbled, laughing, until you had to let go to steady yourself with a hand on his chest.

You looked up at him, searching his gaze. His hand came back to your waist tentatively and you nodded, almost imperceptible, but he saw and a small smile graced his lips. Then you heard the crowd start the countdown around you and you smiled wide.

They got to one and yelled Happy New Year!, the sound barely reaching your ears as Roger’s lips pressed to yours, tasting sweet like champagne.

★★★

tagging bc it’s long: @drowseoftaylor @caborhapch @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @theblossomknows   

[joheun-saram]

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 05

Chapter 5: 30 under 30

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- After a bout of long distance our couple reunites for a weekend where they are both invited to the Forbes 30 under 30 celebration.

word count- 13k 😅

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- alcohol consumption, softdom!Joon, oral sex (f. receiving), orgasm denial, explicit sex, hints towards depressive mindset, overworking

a.n- new chapter? NEW CHAPTER! AND THERE’S ANGST?! I would like to point out that the Namjoon’s struggles in this chapter are in no way meant to reflect the real Namjoon’s thoughts. This is a fictional character. I use writing as an outlet to work through my own issues so the only headspace they accurately reflect is my own at times. If you relate, or need someone to talk to you, my messages are open - I’m here for you!

Thank you so much for the love you all have given this series so far! I’m loving writing this! Also, I’m still simping for this couple and writing the last two scenes was heartbreaking.

s/o to @moccahobi​ for beta reading! ily!

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii​, @jinjccns, @joyful-jimin @sideblogger​ @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

-

“So how much do I have to bribe Sejin to let us be in the same room for the Forbes thing?” You settled in bed, wearing one of your boyfriend’s t-shirts, as you Facetimed him a few countries away, his scent making you feel closer to him. To say his comeback had him busy was an understatement. Since the night you two had agreed on labeling your relationship, you only had a few weeks together to cuddle, visit your favorite places, and argue philosophies of the books you were reading, before being thrown into a long-distance relationship. First, your investor meetings had you traveling from San Francisco to Seoul every few weeks and then he set out on the Asian leg of his promotions and mini-tour. The days that you were in the same city were spent staying in bed and ordering take-out (mostly jjajangmyeon to satisfy Namjoon’s cravings), alternating between his apartment and yours.

“Literally nothing? Obviously we’re in the same room! He’s not gonna stop me from staying with my girlfriend who I haven’t seen in like two months.” He looked tired, his brows creased as he massaged his shoulder. Your heart panged wishing you could be there to massage it for him.

“Oh. But what if we get caught?” This was not a new concern. Since day one, you had to ensure that all your dates were private, pretending you both were single at events you were obligated to attend. He had an image to portray and although it sometimes weighed on you that you always had a group of friends with you whenever you went out in public and that you couldn’t hold hands during your outings, you respected him too much to tarnish his career.

“By who? The room service guy?” He rolled his eyes as he now started to punch his shoulders.

“Yes, or fans who hack the security system. I remember some One Direction fans doing that.” You pretended as if some of those fans were not your old university friends. You don’t talk to them anymore, but you have to admit it was hilarious seeing a group of coders hunched over their computers to get access to grainy pictures of Harry Styles walking in the hallways.

“You are so paranoid. We’ll be fine, baby. Trust me.” He dismissed you with a huff as he finally let go of his shoulders and moved on to removing his makeup.

“Also, I didn’t know you told your company.” You both had decided to wait to tell BigHit about your relationship until you were done with this long-distance leg, opting to go in together to announce it. Neither of you wanted to go public so you assumed the meeting was going to be quick and painless.

“I told people who needed to know. Hyung included.” He shrugged.

“Aww, I was looking forward to sneaking around some more!” You joked as he carried his phone to the bathroom to wash his face.

“You’re annoying.” He whined as he put on copious amounts of skincare before dropping on his hotel bed like a brick. Looking at his bare face, his dark circles and tired eyes were much more evident. Tonight’s show must have been really hard on him.

“Aw, do you miss me, baby?” You cooed, hoping to make him laugh. You wanted to hug him, cuddle with him as the little spoon as you usually did when he had a hard day, but all you could do at the moment was make jokes and hope that was enough. Shit, you missed him.

“I always miss you. Phone sex sucks.” He sighed, making himself comfortable among the pillows.

“I knew it! You only like me for the sex.” Just give me one laugh Namjoon, come on. A chuckle, anything!

“Yes and your sexy brain, pretty girl.” He laughed lightly as he stared at you through the screen, the longing in his eyes mirroring yours.

“Hey! That’s my line!” You giggled, relieved to see the crease between his brows finally disappear.

“Fuck! Three more days!” He said excitedly, shaking the phone in his hand making him look more like a crazed anime character with his new pink hair and lopsided glasses than your boyfriend.

“Three more days!” you squealed.

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

Your body ached from the thirteen-hour flight as you walked through the lobby of the Metropolitan Detroit hotel with Siwon. Grateful for how organized Namjoon’s company was, you seamlessly checked in and made your way to your suite, dropping off your stuff before meeting Siwon at his to go over the weekend itinerary. Even though you knew he was still in the air since the boys and his flight wasn’t due to land for another five hours, you texted him your safe arrival.

Over the past four months since the gala, Jiyoung’s hard work had started to pay off. You were no longer an unknown entity controlling a company; you were now an “influencer entrepreneur”. Your personal social media, now closely tied to the company, showcasing not only usual photos of you at museums and galleries (courtesy of Namjoon’s camera) but photos of you in boardrooms and speaking at events (courtesy of Siwon’s camera). You had significantly surpassed your corporate accounts in followers over a month ago, with a steady stream coming in after your interview in a fashion magazine of all things (apparently your “street style” was deemed a breath of fresh air for businesswomen) and another stream coming in when you were invited to this year’s class of Forbes 30 under 30. 

Although you usually didn’t care for flashy awards such as this, Jiyoung had worked overtime on your nomination and the fact that you were one of the ten people invited from Korea made you pretty happy. The coverage and clout that came with your invite had made you a role model for young female entrepreneurs and that was something you were actually proud of. When you started out there were barely any female mentors and you wanted to change that, give back to other young women running their own ventures. You were excited to meet women around your age who you could relate to this weekend. This was one of the first years that there were this many women invited, making up almost 40%, and your extroverted self was buzzing. Of course, an added bonus was that out of the ten winners from Korea, one was your boyfriend and six were his bandmates, who were slowly but surely becoming your close friends as well. You had been looking forward to this weekend since it was announced a month ago.

Arriving at Siwon’s room you ordered some lunch and planned out the weekend. Tonight was a free night where you could explore the city and the pre-festival activities, although to be honest after almost two months apart, the only thing you’d be exploring tonight was your boyfriend. Tomorrow would be a brunch meet for all the winners followed by a gala in the evening filled with dancing, dinner, and drinks. Then the next day was the festival, which you were still undecided about wanting to attend or not.

“Honestly, it’s up to you. It seems pretty useless to attend if you want to hang out with Namjoon instead.” Siwon offered as you both started on a pro-con list for reasons to attend.

“I don’t know. What if there are some big clients we could get?” Although you missed him dearly, there was no way you could forgive yourself if you let your heart cloud your judgment.

“Yes, we can definitely teach Detroit some English.” Siwon rolled his eyes. “Most of the companies here are tech companies, too small for our caliber. Take a break. This month’s been tough.”

As much as you wanted to disagree with Siwon, he wasn’t wrong. This past month has probably been the toughest month for you in terms of deadlines and stress in the past two years. With the added pressure of maintaining a public persona, your days at the office had stretched from the usual ten hours to sixteen. Most of the time you would be holed up at your desk going through proposals or stuck in meetings with your board as you planned strategies after strategies for expansion into Japan only to get shut down and asked to reassess by one or multiple of them. On top of that, your evenings were booked with conferences where you were invited to speak, given your new spotlight. Most times when you reached home you barely had the energy to change as you fell into bed, falling asleep under ten minutes, usually with Namjoon on the phone as he went through similar motions. You were stressed. Even this short trip was cutting into your time and although you had made good use of the plane’s wifi to work, there was still one proposal that you would have to finish sometime this weekend. Suddenly, the idea of not going to the festival was looking better, so you relent to Siwon as you bid him goodbye and make your way back to your room.

After a quick shower, you decided to work on the proposal before Namjoon arrived but soon as you sat on the desk typing away, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you, and with your head on the table, you drifted to a dreamless sleep.           

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

Namjoon hadn’t been this excited in a long while. He could barely focus on the conversation in the car as he followed the little blue dot on his phone that was showing the way to the hotel. He had texted you as soon as he landed but you hadn’t responded and he was getting a bit antsy.

“Namjoon! Are you paying attention? Hey! I’m talking to you!” He begrudgingly looked up from his phone to see Jin pouting at him annoyed that he missed his comment. He rolled his eyes at him as he launched into a rant about him never listening to his stories. How Jin had this much energy after a twelve-hour flight was lost on him.  

“Let him be. He’s just excited to see Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, not even bothering to open his eyes. Although Namjoon was glad that Yoongi had his back, he wished he hadn’t said anything because suddenly everyone forgot about their long flight and started cooing. He felt himself get annoyed as their teasing increased but he couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way to his face. He couldn’t be mad at them, they all had people at home they were missing, and he was lucky that unlike them he could get a break from missing you and actually hold you in his arms. He wouldn’t tell you but initially, his company had decided to send in their regrets for this event but he may or may not have convinced them to move the shoot for their new music video that was taking place in Los Angeles to next week so they could be here this weekend. If he had to just see you through his screen for another month he was going to go crazy. If it was up to him he would not leave your side at all the next three days.

Namjoon had to restrain himself from sprinting to his room as soon as he was handed the key card. He barely noticed a few of his members following him as he opened the door to spy you hunched over the desk in the corner of the large room, your laptop displaying multiple pictures of your friends and the both of you together. He figured you were asleep but he couldn’t wait to gently wake you up as he usually did, instead opting for screaming a loud “baby” and running to hug your sleeping form.

What he didn’t expect was for you to wake up so startled that you scream and elbow him in the ribs making him stumble backward till his butt met the floor, much to the entertainment of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook who were cackling in the background.

“Oh my god! Joon?” He could see your face go from confusion to recognition and then into one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen as your puffy eyes go wide. “Joonie!”

You launched yourself from your chair into his arms as you collapsed on top of him in something between a hug and a cuddle as both of you fell to the floor erupting in giggles. Your scent enveloped him and he could feel himself getting delirious. He didn’t know whether it was the long flight or the long-distance but his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. He hadn’t been this happy in a long while.

“I missed you!” He exclaimed as he peppered aggressive pecks on top of your head, his arms around your shoulders tightening, making you squirm and laugh. Above you the maknaes squealed a chorus of “cute!”, cooing loudly.

“I missed you more!” You countered, grinning into his chest, before attempting to get up only to be pulled in tighter after Namjoon’s whine. “Babe, we have the whole weekend!”

“Hey! We missed her too! I want a hug!” Jimin mock yelled at Namjoon, who was now sitting up with you on his lap, still not letting you go.

“No. Get your own Y/N.” He pouts, placing a kiss to your shoulder as you giggle. You hadn’t seen this cute clingy side before and you were sure you had heart eyes. Ignoring his whining you managed to wriggle yourself out of his grip and stood up, greeting the boys. You barely talked for five minutes before Namjoon got impatient again and suggested “as their leader” they go rest after the long flight. You all made plans to meet up for dinner and drinks later that night to properly catch up.

You waved bye to the boys as Namjoon pushed them out the door, ignoring their groans. As soon as the door was closed, he grabbed you by the waist, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was hungry, all tongues, teeth, and desperation. Your arms went around his neck, fingers pulling at his hair as his hands moved lower, groping your ass in an attempt to pull you even closer, grinding against you and making you moan into the kiss. Soon Namjoon was pinning you against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body as yours do on his.

“Missed my pretty girl,” Namjoon says after a few minutes, beaming and panting, his forehead against yours, his hand caressing your sides. Hearing your favorite nickname makes you melt. Even though his heart is beating a mile a minute, heat encasing his body, he hasn’t felt this relaxed in months. Just being in your presence puts him at ease.

“I really missed you.” You reach up to kiss him again, slower this time allowing yourself to relish him after being deprived for so long. He returns the kiss just as tenderly, making your heart melt in your chest as he cups your face, thumbs running over your cheeks. Even though things had started heated, this is what you truly missed, just being in each other's presence.

When you break the kiss, he lifts you up bridal style as you squeal, your arms automatically going around his neck. He grins at you, making you feel the same butterflies you had when you first met him as you poke his dimples, and he carries you to the bed, gently placing you among the pillows before kissing you again.

He was on top of you as you kissed, and you had almost forgotten what it felt to have him there with you as your tongues wrestled, his weight cushioning you to the mattress. Your hands reached the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards till he sat on his knees to remove it, looking at you with his signature smirk as you ran your hands up his body, feeling the contours of his muscles, enjoying the way his chest flexed under them. That is until his smirk turned into one of the biggest yawns you had ever witnessed.

“Am I boring you, Joonie?” You saw his face flush as he looked at you sheepishly before leaning back over you and kissing your lips before moving on to your jaw.

“I read somewhere that yawns are just your brain's way of getting more oxygen” He whispered while gently kissing your neck, making you moan, as his hands moved under your shirt, roaming over your chest. “And all my blood’s somewhere else now so it makes sense” He kissed your ear, making you giggle.

“Wow your dirty talk sure has gotten scientific.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you processed what he had just said, your moans turning into cackles. He nipped at your ear as he leaned up to look at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“I’m out of practice!” He shrugged and pretended to glare at you but it only lasted a few seconds before he started laughing again because this time it was you who was yawning. Somehow the earlier sexual tension fades into comfort as you both get caught into a yawn loop.

“Maybe we should just nap first” you suggest pulling him back to you as you peck his lips.

“I do feel like I do better when I’m well-rested.” He lays on his side pulling you into him, one arm under your head and one around your waist. You hum in approval as you cozy up into him. You kiss as you slowly doze off, the adrenaline of your reunion wearing off into a soft glow of contentment.

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

“Y/N! You have to call me oppa. We’re close enough! Stop calling me Mr. Seokjin!” You rolled your eyes as Jin yelled from the couch across from you. You had hung out with him quite a few times and every time he got drunk he insisted on making you call him by the term of endearment. You didn’t mind the term, in fact you called all your older male friends by it since moving to Korea, but riling up Jin till he started rapping was too funny an opportunity to pass up. 

“I can just call you Jin instead if you hate Mr Seokjin?” you smirked as the room around you burst into giggles. You were sitting on the couch in Hoseok’s room, leaning into Namjoon, his arm around your shoulders as he sipped his beer, shaking his head at your antics. After you and Namjoon had become official, you had made it a goal of yours to get to know most of his friends, as he had with yours. Before being separated, you would go out for dinners with your combined friends, and hearing them say they missed you warmed your heart. 

The first time you had had drinks together you had introduced them to King’s cup, one of your favorite drinking games from university, and their penchant for petty competitiveness and gross punishments made the game and you a regular occurrence whenever a few of you had free time together. In fact, Jungkook was so into it that he brought a deck of cards on tour to carry on the tradition, even though you had shown him multiple apps that could do the same. The same deck of cards was the one sprawled around the cup filled with Taehyung’s strawberry daiquiri, Siwon’s IPA, and Yoongi’s whiskey on the coffee table. No one was looking forward to pulling the next king card. 

The room was a bit crowded, filled with people. Although dinner was just you and the boys catching up, everyone had decided to invite the boys’ stylists and managers, as well as Siwon, for drinks. Hoseok had lost the game of rock, paper, scissors so he was made the begrudging host. 

“I’m older than you. You can’t call me just Jin!” he pouted, red cheeks puffed and arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah by five months!” This is how this argument always went. It was pretty much scripted at this point, as evident by Taehyung who was gleefully mouthing the words before they even came out of your mouths. He’ll argue that Yoongi still called him hyung, you’d retort that’s because Jin forced him and that he was dumb for following through, Yoongi would then interrupt saying that he was still one month older than you and you’d rile up Jin more by calling Yoongi oppa the rest of the night while he would complain about you disrespecting Korean culture and you’d annoy him by telling him that he was disrespecting Canadian culture by not letting you use just his first name. You’d finally relent after seeing him stew only to pick up the same argument the next time you all drank together.

“Stop arguing and pick a card!” Hoseok whined, his sweet demeanor slowly phasing into his zombie persona with each sip of his drink. You loved hanging out with him but the man could not handle his alcohol. Namjoon kind of felt bad that Hobi was the host. He would normally offer him his bed once he inevitably passed out but Namjoon had other plans for his bed once this party was over.

Jin obliged as he picked up a card, careful not to break the circle lest he was forced to down his concoction of mini bar liquor and fruit punch. He picks up a jack, requiring him to start a game of Never Have I Ever.

“Alright, never have I ever disrespected Kim Seokjin.” He said smugly, looking straight at you egging you on to drink. You oblige by raising your glass to him before sipping your drink. To Jin’s annoyance, almost everyone else did that same thing, causing him to grumble.

“Okay that was a boring waste of a question,” Jimin states, rolling his eyes, already drunk sitting on the couch’s arm next to Namjoon. “Let’s make the couples here uncomfortable. Never have I ever had sex in public.”

Surprisingly, Namjoon, you and a stylist are the only ones that drink, making Jimin scream a loud “Kinky!” and prompting Sejin to start his lecture on being careful in the public eye since you were pretty known now and the press would have a field day. Before he can get into the full swing of his chiding, you decide to save you and Namjoon by protesting that you didn’t even hold his hand in public, let alone do anything else, and suddenly the whole atmosphere in the room changed. All eyes went from Namjoon to the stylist, with him glaring at Jimin and her awkwardly downing her drink before leaving. Confused and drunk, you don’t hesitate to ask what’s wrong in the silence that ensues, till it finally dawns on you. That’s the ex he worked with. Oh.

Namjoon could see the gears turning in your head as you put two and two together. He was going to kill Jimin and then himself. Why didn’t he think before taking a sip? He wanted tonight to end with you in his arms, not with you mad at him over something that happened two years ago. However, before he could think of how to make it up to you - maybe he could get you flowers or that whiskey you really like - you laugh, breaking the tension in the room.

“It’s okay guys, everyone has exes!” Still giggling you sip your drink while Jimin apologizes, waving him off. “Why would I get mad at this?”

That caused the room to return back to normal, people resuming the game and enjoying their drinks, but Namjoon was still confused. He knew you were a pretty rational person, but he had just told the whole room of your friends that he fucked his ex in public when you confirmed that he wouldn’t even hold your hand. Surely, he wasn’t wrong to assume that you would be at least a little peeved, but here you were laughing along at Jungkook’s stupid jokes without batting an eyelid. Before he could dwell too long on it, it was your turn to pull a card - pulling a king and effectively ending the game.

“Ewwww. I hate this. Ugh. Is this punishment for introducing you all to this game?” You scrunch your nose sniffing the liquid in the cup as the whole group chants “chug!”. Before you can put it to your lips, Namjoon grabs the cup from you.

“Allow me.” He says as he chugs the drink, almost in one shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and barely concealing the shiver that runs through him at the disgusting taste. Half the crowd boos as the other half coos at the chivalrous gesture. You can’t help smiling sweetly at him as he grimaces, and putting your arms around his waist pulling him in an embrace, exclaiming an overly exaggerated “My hero!”.

“Anything for my girl!” He says as he returns your hug and cups your face. “But you gotta suffer the taste with me!”

You’re not one for public displays of affection but you let him pull you into a sloppy kiss, almost forgetting your surroundings as he deepens it, his hand gripping your waist, his tongue tasting mostly of fake strawberry flavoring. Before you can get too carried away, you are interrupted by Yoongi, poking you both and wedging himself between you when you separate.

“Stop being gross! Some of us are single!” He says, making himself comfortable with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Awww hyung! They are so cute! Let them be gross!” A drunk Taehyung exclaims, clapping gleefully from the floor where he’s laying in Jungkook’s lap.

“Yeah! Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona are OTP!” Jungkook says as he sips his wine, almost dribbling it down his chin.

“Nobody says OTP anymore, kid.” Yoongi drawls but refuses to move from his position. “Plus I’m the one responsible for this okay? Your OTP would be nothing without me.” He looks smug as he finishes his sentence, sipping his drink and shrugging his shoulders. Namjoon and you exchange a smirk at his remark and proceed to hug your grumpy friend tightly from both sides much to his over the top protests. Namjoon was truly grateful Yoongi had given him the courage to speak to you that night. He can’t even begin to explain the impact you have made on his life. As he looked at you tipsy and giggling, now arguing with Yoongi over which Kanye album was the best, he felt his heart blossom. You were beautiful and he was in love with you. He was sure you weren’t there yet but he promised himself that before this trip was over he was going to tell you without chickening out at the last moment like the last four times. 

The party comes to an end soon after. Hoseok almost passes out after his third nursed drink and Sejin has the right mind to kick everyone out while Namjoon and Jimin help Hoseok to his bed, your heart warming as your equally drunk boyfriend forces him to brush his teeth and get into bed. Once Hoseok is firmly tucked in, Namjoon turns to you and squats.

“Get on!” He smiles looking at your direction.

“Joon we’re like two doors down. Get up!” You giggle tipsily at his offer to piggyback you.

“I wanna carry you!” He pouts against your protests, finally giving up on the piggyback after asking three times and instead draping you over his shoulder as you squeal. 

“You’re gonna hurt your shoulder!” You scream but your protests go unheard, even as you take the opportunity to smack his butt from your position, a smack that he returns with a warning to behave, but you’re feeling drunk and cheeky as you continue to smack him, even going so far to rap to the beat that you’re making as he unlocks the door to your room.

He tosses you on the bed, pinning your arms above your head before you can wrap them around him and smirks at you, his eyes full of mischief.

“See, I was going to apologize for my ex but you had to go and be a brat.” He kisses you breathless as he takes both your hands in one of his while the other moves under your shirt, raising goosebumps where it caresses your stomach.

“Apologize for what?” You pant as he breaks the kiss, and he can see the confusion on your face.

“You’re not mad?” Now it’s his turn to be confused. He was sure you were mad. He would’ve been mad. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still thinking about it since the awkward incident.

“That you had sex with your ex-girlfriend while you were dating her?” You do a dramatic gasp as you giggle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yeah… and told our friends about it.” He looks at you sheepishly, his earlier dominant persona fading into your soft boyfriend. His hand loosens its grip on yours as he searches your eyes for any signs of hurt, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Joon you fuck too good to have been a virgin when we met.” You lift one hand to poke at the crease between his brows as you laugh and he holds your wrist, still gauging your expression.

“You’re not mad? Or… jealous?”

“Pfft. I know I fucking rock your world better than she ever did.” You try your best to do a hair flip from where you lay under him, failing miserably and making him laugh, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

“That you do, baby. That you do.” He pecks your shoulder as he moves to your neck, kissing up to your jaw before crashing his lips onto yours. As your hands go to his hair, he brings them back over your head, breaking your kiss but not before pulling your lower lip with his teeth, coaxing a moan from you. “But you’re still getting spanked for being a brat.”

You feel his deep voice reverberate through to your core as you look at the lust in his eyes and feel yourself getting wetter. He kisses you again, his arm hooking under your waist as he sits up pulling you with him, making you gasp at the sudden movement, your arms going around his neck. Your heart’s beating a mile a minute as you make out in his lap, grinding slowly. Even after months of being together you still can’t get used to how easily his switch to this persona turns you to putty. You whimper as his hands find your ass, his fingers groping the muscle hard enough to bruise.

“Get naked.” If you were wet before, you’re dripping now as he moves you off his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread and leaning on his elbows. You decide to make a show of it, jumping off the bed and slowly peeling off the layers. You smile over your shoulder as you rid yourself of your bra, watching him smile, eyes hooded, from where he watches relaxed. Your hands find the waistband of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them and shimmying out of them, swaying your hips as you do. You’re sure you would find this strip tease embarrassing if it weren’t for how his hungry eyes drink in every expanse of new skin exposed. You bend down to give him a view of your ass as you pull your panties off, a thread of your slick following them as they reach the floor, making him groan loudly. “Fuck. I love your ass.”

You drape yourself on his lap, the material of his jeans on your bare skin making you shiver in excitement as he gently caresses your behind. “Since you love rapping so much, how about you rap that song from earlier, hmm?” he says as he lands a loud smack without warning making you jump at the contact. The sharp pain quickly ebbs into pleasure as he soothes the heated skin under his big palm. “What’s your safeword?”

“Rap monster.” That is not your safeword, but your drunk self thinks it’s the funniest joke as you giggle looking up at him to see his face crack into the smallest of smiles before reverting back to a stern look as he glares at you.

“Seems like someone doesn’t want to cum tonight.” He smacks you again, harder this time making you gasp before you’re apologizing at his threat. Namjoon watches your skin bloom red as he tries to maintain his composure. Trust you to make jokes even when he’s spanking you, and trust him for finding it funny.

“Sunflower! It’s sunflower!” you yell as his hand lands yet again on your ass.

“Good girl. Let’s hear that rap then.” You’re not even sure what song you’re mumbling as his hand rains on your behind, each spank making you wetter till you’re dripping down your thighs and whimpering in his hold.

“Fuck so wet for me.” He hisses as his fingers trace your swollen folds making you jump and mewl as he lightly caresses your throbbing clit. He leans down to kiss your red cheeks as he guides you off his lap and on to the bed and lies on top of you, smiling brightly as he cups your face to kiss you, slow and deep. “You did so well, baby. You’re really into ASAP nowadays aren’t you?”

“You really need some variation in the playlists you send me.” You quip, chuckling as you gently guide his face back to yours, kissing him again, his tongue intertwining with yours. As he leans on one elbow, his other hand makes its way down your body, stopping briefly to tweak each nipple and making you moan before he reaches the apex of your thighs. His fingers dip in you slightly gathering your arousal before starting to circle your clit as he starts kissing your neck, suckling the spot he knows makes you go crazy. It’s like your whole body’s on fire as he finds a rhythm, driving you quickly towards the edge, your mind turning blank as eyes squeeze shut and your lips moan his name. You’re so close and he can feel it by how your nails dig into his shoulders, making him hiss, but before you can cum he moves his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to clean them as he watches you glare at him with a whine.

“You really think I’ll forget your little joke earlier?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deeper than usual, as he nips on it before sitting up between your legs and unceremoniously stripping himself of his shirt and jeans. The sight of the bulge in his boxers makes your walls clench around nothing as you stare at him open-mouthed. Enjoying your reaction, he places one of your legs on his shoulders, the back of your knee fitting perfectly next to his neck as he moves back towards you, his clothed length pressing against your core as he kisses you again roughly, making you whimper as his hands dig into your sides. Your leg burns as he licks and kisses down your jaw towards your chest, his lips taking a nipple and rolling it around with his tongue. You’re sure he can feel your wetness seep through his boxers as he grinds into you agonizingly slow. He nips at your chest and you moan as your back arches off the bed into him.

He continues his slow kisses down your body turning you into a writhing mess under him. You think you’re going to lose your mind by the time he gets past your hip bone and places a chaste kiss on the top of your mound before moving on to your thigh, nibbling at the sensitive skin and paying no attention to your dripping core making a mess of the sheets.

“Joon please…” you beg, rolling your hips to entice him as he pays you no mind, placing an arm over your hips to halt your motion and continues to mark your other thigh. When he’s fully satisfied by his work, he places his forearms under your thighs and pulls to close to his face, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted; your earlier orgasm picking back up as your back arches off the bed, the moan emitting from you barely sounding like yourself. You clasp a hand over your mouth in shock as he continues licking you, his tongue expertly flicking at your clit before he adds two fingers inside you, the digits slipping in easily, making your walls clench around them. He hooks his fingers and you try to grind against him to no success as his arm pushes your hips into the bed. He relishes your moans as your hand moves from your mouth to grasp at the sheets, the sensation too overwhelming as your eyes close shut. 

“Are you close baby? You’re not allowed to cum till I tell you.” He feels your walls tighten around his fingers as he thrusts faster and a chant of please rolls off your tongue, your hand twisting in your hair. It’s like every cell in your body is alight from your toes to your scalp, tingling as you get closer, your eyes welling up with pleasure. But once again before you can come undone, his fingers slow down to a snail’s pace, his mouth moving away. The frustration builds in you as a few tears escape and your fists punch the mattress.

He chuckles lightly as he sees you pout under him as, your hair a mess, your lips swollen and red from where you’ve bitten them. God, even glaring at him like you’re gonna kill him, you look adorable. Deciding he’s taught you a lesson, he pulls his dick out of his boxers, his tip swollen and weeping with precum, and lines it towards your entrance, teasing you further and gathering your juices.

Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he replaces his fingers with his cock, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. The stretch combined with his teasing makes your head hazy and you can hear him groan above you as he puts both your legs in the air together, holding them against his chest with one arm as he thrusts into you slow and hard. You feel so much tighter in this position and he has to bite his lip to ensure he doesn’t cum immediately. You can feel every vein and ridge as he moves slowly and deliberately and even at this pace you are getting close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Joonie… please can I cum? Please I’m so close!” You don’t care that you’re yelling, you’re desperate for release, the earlier tension returning tenfold. You vow to break up with him if he denies you one more time. Fortunately for your relationship, he increases his pace, making you see stars.

“Hold it just a little bit longer baby.” His pace doesn’t falter and you’re writhing against him, a babble of incoherent pleas escaping your lips as your hands try to grab on to his forearm. Your legs are shaking and he can feel your walls tighten harder around him. He increases his speed as your pleas get louder.

“Okay baby. Cum for me.” At his command, your vision goes black and it’s like your body is one big nerve ending, pleasure zipping through you making you cry out his name as you spasm in his hold. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not faltering, till you go limp, your breath coming out in loud pants as he praises you. “That’s my girl. Good job, baby.”

Without changing his speed, he releases your legs, pushing them to your chest as he leans down and kisses you. The new angle hitting your g-spot as you whine in his mouth at the oversensitivity, but instead of slowing down, he picks up his pace yet again, his fingers coming to trace your sensitive clit, making your head buzz with the overwhelming sensation.

“I can’t… Joon,” you whine as he fucks you hard, panting above you and you can tell he’s close.

“Do you want to use your safeword?” He looks at you with concern, slowing down and closely reading your expression. As you tell him no his hips snap into you again, his fingers working faster on your clit as the pain morphs to pleasure. He’s chasing his release, his movements becoming sloppy.

“Cum again baby. I know you can do it. Come on, that’s it” And soon you’re cumming again, screaming as tears fall down your face and your walls clench around him coaxing him to orgasm. He grunts loudly, moaning your name multiple times, as he cums, painting your walls with his seed. His breath is heavy as he pulls out and watches his cum dribble out of you, using two fingers to push it back in before he collapses on the bed next to you.

He brings his fingers up to your lips and you happily suck on them before he pulls them out and kisses you gently, his hand smoothing your hair. He then puts his arm under your head as he cuddles you into his chest, his other arm pulling your waist into him and his legs over yours. You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable than you do tangled up in him.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he gently caresses your cheek, wiping your runny mascara with his thumb, kissing you once again.

“Holy fuck. That was-” Your voice is hoarse from your screaming and you have to clear your throat a couple of times before you can speak clearly. “That was amazing.”

“Phew! The suspense was killing me!” He laughs as you playfully swat at his chest before pulling his lips on yours again. “Shower?”

“Yes. But this time you really have to carry me.” You raise your hands grabbing at the air as he stands up.

“I got you, pretty girl.” He grins widely, his eyes scrunched together, as he kisses your forehead, picking you off the bed and carrying you to the bathroom. 

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

Namjoon looked at you from across the room as you chatted with a group of women with a cup of coffee, your breakfast untouched, totally distracted from the guy who was telling him about some app he had made for producers to make it easier to find samples. He rarely got to see you in your professional element. In fact, the only time he had seen you was during the gala and he felt an unparalleled surge of pride. The way you carried yourself was so different than when you were with him. It wasn’t that you weren’t relaxed, it was just effortless - the way you seemed to answer each question with confident authority, the way you gave advice to people who were probably much older than you, and especially the way you tried to engage the quieter people of the group in conversations. It reminded him of why you had caught his eye the first time he met you, and why he was so unbelievably whipped for you. Your duality of being goofy and sexy when you were alone to being this serious vat of knowledge and experience when networking made him weak in the knees.

“So do you think you would use it?” The founder of the sampling app, Lee Seungmin, asked Namjoon. Seungmin was one of the other people invited from Korea, and seemed pretty adamant on selling his product to Namjoon. It took all of his energy to rip his gaze away from you.

“I’m sorry I missed that. What did you ask?” Namjoon asked politely, looking at the shorter, much chubbier man dressed in slacks and a shirt with his company logo on it.

“Wouldn’t blame you. She’s really hot, eh?” Seungmin jokes, making Namjoon choke on his coffee. Although he knows that this guy isn’t privy to your relationship, it makes him a little annoyed at his comment. Who was he to dare objectify you?

“Yes, but I don’t think they invite people here for their looks.” He couldn’t help how curt his tone was effectively shutting him up and making him move away to talk to someone else at the table. Namjoon would feel bad if he didn’t overhear him start the conversation about you with the next guy. Rolling his eyes, he went back to his lunch, talking to Hoseok and Yoongi instead, wishing this brunch went by faster than it did. He was getting sick of people trying to suck up to him or sell him something. Someone even had the audacity to ask him to pose with their product so they could put it on their website. He politely declined, but the thinly veiled attempts at using him and his members for clout were starting to get on his nerves. He could feel himself getting stressed, much like he did when he had to pretend to be perfect for the media, and falling back into the headspace of last month - cloudy, annoyed, and frustrated.

He was relieved when you both arrived back at the room. You held his arm for support as you leaned down to take off your heels, sighing in relief as your feet met the flat ground.

“God, I hate heels!” You exclaimed as you walked over, dropping your blazer on the ground and plopped on the couch, stretching your feet. Namjoon picked your jacket off the floor, draping it on one of the chairs as he situated himself on the other end of the sofa, putting your legs on his lap.

“Since when do you wear heels?” He asks, as he gently runs his hands over your legs, covered with a pair of navy pants.

“Too often nowadays.” You sigh with your eyes closed, and he can’t help frowning at how tired you looked, even though it’s barely past 2 pm.

“You okay, babe? Want a foot massage?” He doesn’t wait for your answer as he starts massaging your feet, smiling as you relax further into the couch.

“Shit. That feels good!” You moan as you relax. “You know they don’t give Grammys for best boyfriends, right?”

“I’m offended you think I’m doing this for something as dumb as a Grammy.” He chuckles, but he knows you well enough to know that you’re avoiding the topic. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed about work. Don’t worry about it.” At that you pull your legs from under his hands, walking over to grab your laptop before sitting on the couch again to start working, eyebrows furrowed as soon as you open the your laptop. Namjoon knows he shouldn’t take your dismissal to heart, but he can’t help be taken aback by your lack of openness. You always told him what was on your mind and he felt his heart ache that you didn’t want to share what was wrong. He couldn’t fully blame you. He hadn’t told you about his stresses this past month either, but unlike him, you hadn’t even noticed he was stressed. It made him a little wary, bringing his thoughts back to last night and your reaction, or lack thereof, to meeting his ex. As much as it hurt him, maybe he was right after all. You didn’t love him yet. He sighed as he got up to grab his book, hoping that he could change that before leaving you tomorrow night.

After a few hours of work, you started to feel bad for ignoring Namjoon. He had been nothing but doting this whole trip and you hated yourself for having to finish this proposal this weekend. Feeling your brain turn to mush anyways, you stretched as you walked over to your suitcase, watching your boyfriend who seemed to be engrossed in his book. You felt guilty for avoiding his questions earlier but you could see how stressed he had been from work - in fact, Jungkook had told you as much over text last week when he shared that Namjoon had collapsed during rehearsals. You knew how empathetic he was, he would do everything in his power to make sure you were feeling good, so how could you burden him with your stresses when he had so many of his own. Sure this last month had been hell and you were barely functioning but if you told him that, you know he would worry about you, and you would rather bottle everything up than have him worry.

Reaching into your suitcase, you took out his favorite packet of ramen, hiding it behind your back as you moved over to stand in front of him.

“I got you a present.” You bent down till you were face to face as he looked up at you with a smile and kissed him gently.

“I think you’ve already given me this present.” He said as he cupped your face and kissed you again, lingering longer.

You laugh as you straighten up and pull the ramen from behind your back, watching his eyes go wide in excitement as he grabs it, his dimples poking his cheeks as he hugs you. You knew he always missed home when on tour even if it was just an Asian tour, and his ramen cravings were the top priority when he arrived back to Korea. You hoped this would cheer him up as you grabbed the packet and walked over to the kettle, starting the water.

“Speaking of presents, I was saving this for tomorrow, but now I’m excited.” He says before grabbing the slim velvet box from his bag and walking over to you, wrapping you in a back hug as you pour the seasoning from the packet into the cup of dry ramen. He puts the box in front you and opens it, making it now your turn to go wide-eyed.

Inside the box is a necklace with the most delicate gold chain holding a pendant shaped like a gold slice of pizza with pepperoni made of small rubies. It would seem tacky if it didn’t look so intricate. No one had given you a gift that was so you, and it made you speechless.

“I know it’s cheesy but I saw it in Tokyo and it reminded me of our first date, but if you don’t like it I can take it back and I’m sure I can return it, I mean they gave me a gift receipt and everything.” Namjoon knew he was rambling but you were eerily quiet and the fact that he couldn’t see your face made him uneasy. 

“It’s perfect,” you whisper as you turn around, your eyes glistening as you wrap your arms around his neck. He was alarmed. You never got emotional, even when you both watched Up together you barely showed any signs of being moved while he was sobbing. 

“It was meant to be for our 100 day anniversary next week but I thought I’d give it early.” He pressed his forehead to yours, drinking in your smile as he held you tighter.

“I’m literally the worst girlfriend. I forgot about that.” You frowned as you looked away before you looked back at him, your eyes wide. “Oh my god! I only got you ramen! What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Y/N… Relax. I didn’t get you a present for you to get me one. Plus I know you’re nothing without your calendar app. I swear you’d forget to eat without it.” He laughed trying to reassure you as he kissed your frown away. “If anything it’s Siwon’s fault for not programming it in there.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You sigh as you hug him tightly, making Namjoon’s heart swoon as you ask him to put the necklace on you. He does so, kissing the nape of your neck where he clasps it and telling you that you deserve the world. You wanted to tell him you loved him before you chickened out again but before the words could make it out of your lips his were against them.

Later that night, he feels even happier as he sees you wear it to the gala. Even though he knows he can’t hold your hand, the fact that you have a symbol of his love for you around your neck makes him giddy.

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

“Joon, seriously. I have to get this done.” You giggle as he kisses your neck, moving the strap of your tank to the side as he continues lavishing you in kisses. Namjoon was impatient. He had spent the whole night watching you from afar. He’d be damned if he had to wait any longer to have you in his arms. Work can go to hell.

To say that Namjoon hated the gala would be an understatement. First, you and Yoongi ended up unintentionally matching, and he found himself irrationally jealous at the fact that his stylist didn’t choose the Louis Vitton outfit for him so he could match with you. Second, even though all the attendees were placed on tables according to country, you had decided to sit next to none other than Lee Seungmin, the creep checking you out at brunch, who wasted no opportunity to shamelessly flirt with you, even going so far as to put his hand on your thigh a couple of times. The number of times you politely rejected him for him not to get the hint made Namjoon’s blood boil, so much so that Jin had to poke him to relax his face lest the photographers captured his reaction. And lastly, when he had to watch you dance with some old men as you were too polite to refuse, while they leered at you. Through it all, Namjoon could just watch helplessly as you seemed more uncomfortable. Now that you were both back to your room and in your pajamas, he just wanted to hold you before all the jealousy and insecurity of the night caught up with him. He knew if he kissed your neck enough, you’d soon comply.

“Do it later. We only have till tomorrow. Let’s watch a movie together?” He gives you another kiss that makes your breath hitch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Before you can get too carried away, you move his head away from you, sighing and gathering all your self-control. If you didn’t finish this proposal today you’d be in big trouble - like losing a multimillion-dollar contract big trouble. As much as you wanted to just forget work existed, you had to take a two-hour reality check on this trip.

“I can’t do that. Please understand.” You looked at him softly, but Namjoon couldn’t help getting annoyed. Didn’t you yearn for him like he did at that gala? Were you happy to be hit on by those creeps?

“Are you seriously being like this right now?” He scoffed, pulling away from you, eyebrows knitted together. Namjoon couldn’t understand why you had to work right now. You had been apart for so long, didn’t you want to spend as much time with him as he wanted to with you?

“Like what? I told you I need to have this done by tomorrow.” He could hear the familiar edge in your voice. You were starting to get annoyed.

“Do you know how much groveling I had to do to get this weekend together and you’re going to waste it on stupid work?” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. You didn’t know he “groveled”, as far as you were aware this was part of his schedule. Why was he being so difficult all of a sudden? It’s not like you had a choice. Does he think you would seriously spend time away from him if you didn’t have to?

“Are you seriously mad at me for taking two hours, two hours, out of three days to finish some work?”

“Yes because these three days are all we get together for the next month.” Namjoon knew he was being stupid, two hours were not a big deal, but at the moment he couldn’t help but feel abandoned like somehow the scales in the relationship had tipped where the balance of affection was off. He cared so much for you, why couldn’t you feel the same?

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I will be done soon.” You snapped, your attention turning back to the screen. If Namjoon was going to throw a tantrum there was no reason for you to indulge him.

“Don’t dismiss me like that. You’re the boss, just tell the people to wait. Or delay it.” He walked closer to you, shutting your laptop, standing with his arms crossed. He wanted your full attention, and he was going to demand it. He hated how condescending you were being.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t do that. This is for a client.” You stand up facing him, anger flowing through you, indignation plastered on your features. Even though he was significantly taller than you, your glare could have made anyone feel small.

“Just do it later and apologize.” Namjoon knew he was being stubborn, but the reason for the fight was forgotten, he just wanted you to admit that you were wrong. As childish as it seemed, he wanted to win. 

“What the fuck? I have a whole company that I need to pay, I can’t just skip shit.”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. Missing one deadline won’t make you miss payroll - you’re not a struggling small company anymore.” That hit a nerve, he could see it in your eyes as they flared with anger. He would feel bad for making you angry if he weren’t so happy to get a reaction.

“The fucking hypocrisy. Sure Namjoon, have RM miss a concert. It’s okay you’re not a struggling small band anymore!” You poked him in the chest as you moved closer. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. You had never been angry with him before. You had never fought like this before. Your anger only seemed to fuel his. He had no control over his schedule, you did. Why couldn’t you understand that fundamental difference?

“That is not the same thing. You are overworking yourself for no reason.” He was talking with his hands, you knew he only acted like that when he was pissed, but you were not going to have any of this petty behavior. For all his bull and bluster about being a feminist, he’s going to pull this shit on you? His job is great and not stressful or busy but when it comes to you he’s going to pull the overworking card? When he literally collapsed during rehearsal last week and hid it from you? You were livid.

“You’re going to talk to me about overworking?” You laughed sarcastically, your eyes burning. “Oh is it not the same thing because it's my job and not yours?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. Whatever. Fuck this. Enjoy writing your proposal!” Namjoon couldn’t argue anymore. He felt his anger rising to a point where he knew he was going to say something he regretted if he hadn’t already. Using his one remaining rational brain cell, he walked out of the room, not before maliciously slamming the door behind him.

“I will!” you screamed into the empty room, panting with anger as you picked up the water bottle on your desk and threw it across the room, tears in your eyes.

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

Y/N: Have you seen Namjoon? He’s not responding.

Yoongi: Isn’t he with you?

Y/N: No.

Yoongi: What happened?

Y/N: Nothing, we just had an argument and I haven’t seen him. It’s been two hours.

Yoongi: Okay don’t worry. We’ll find him.

Y/N: Thanks Yoongs

Yoongi: Where are you?

Yoongi: Hello?

Yoongi: Namjoon. Answer your phone.

Yoongi: Y/N is really worried about you

Yoongi: Listen Namjoon if you don’t answer in the next five minutes, I’m reporting you missing

Yoongi: Enjoy that press 

Namjoon: Stop calling me. I’m fine.

Yoongi: No. Where the fuck are you?

Namjoon: I’m just on the roof.

Namjoon: Please don’t come here. I just want to be alone.

Yoongi: Are you okay? Y/N told me you guys had a fight

Namjoon: I’ll be fine. Don’t tell her where I am.

Yoongi: Okay. Text me if you need a friend.

Namjoon: Thanks hyung.

Yoongi: He’s on the roof. He said he’s fine, but not to tell you.

Y/N: Thanks friend

Yoongi: You should go find him

Y/N: He doesn’t want me, there he made that clear

Yoongi: I’ve known him and lived with him for a decade, trust me. He needs you.

Y/N: Okay, but if we break up it’s on you.

Yoongi: Just go find him Y/N.

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

Namjoon rubbed his face as he sat on the rooftop of the hotel, his back against the railing. Replying to Yoongi he tossed his phone aside. He’d been sitting here for the past couple of hours his anger dissipating into guilt far too quick. Dried tears streaked his face as he tried to gather the courage to go back to the room. 

He was scared. The image of your angry face as he dismissed your work popping in his head. He didn’t know why he did that. He respected what you did, but he felt like a hypocrite. All his exes he dismissed when they asked him to take care of himself and not overwork. All the times they came to his studio to force him to leave, only to have the same look of anger that you gave him. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his legs to his chest.

At the edge of the guilt, he could feel it again, the same feeling he’d had since the comeback started, a sort of brain slush. Like a haze shackling him in place. He had felt it many times before but it was never this strong, this force of unproductivity, making him want to forget everything and hide. The stress of this comeback wasn’t any different than other ones. He always made it a priority to write new music in between promotions and shows but his creative block from four months ago was back and nastier. He could feel it gnaw at his neurons, forcing him to stay awake for hours after he should be in bed staring at a blank Ableton file. Usually, he could trick his mind out of this fog by working harder, but lately, it was like it was getting thicker seeping into every aspect of his life, painting his vision sepia, making every movement robotic. 

He remembers when encouraging messages from ARMY would make him happy, excited to make more music for them but nowadays it just made him feel guilty. He wasn’t doing enough for them, he couldn’t even string together a series of 808s without it sounding like a gimmick or worse like plagiarism. Last week he had fucked up so bad that his body shook from the memory. He had stayed up all night in some sick form of self-harm, scrolling through hate comments on Twitter then Reddit. He was never sadder to know multiple languages because even if the characters were different the messages were the same. He was a shitty musician, too overhyped by fans, his awards were bought by his company, his dances sucked, he tried too hard, and of course that he was too ugly to be an idol. His rational side would argue that these messages were meant to hurt him, his friends and you would comfort him by telling him they were lies, but he never told anyone about this habit, and his rational side often lost out. If anyone asked why he did this he would say to fuel another song, but he knew the real reason - he just couldn’t stop. So he stayed up all night till his eyes were dry and scratchy from staring at the screen, and had three espresso shots before the show even though he hated espresso, his body eventually giving out during rehearsals. He got quite a few lectures about that. A leader’s job is to set a good example. You have been doing this for so long, be a professional play in your limits. But there were no limits, not when it literally took a mantra of just “power through it” to get out of bed and shower.

He had been hoping this weekend would solve everything - that seeing you would solve everything. As he sat on the roof, the first few drops of rain falling on him, he curled in further into himself. It wasn’t your responsibility to make him happy, clear the fog, but you had done it the first day. His mind felt clear but it was gone too soon. He didn’t know when it happened but he could see it after a while that you didn’t feel the same way he did. You didn’t crave to be next to him like he did, speaking affirmations in his ear as he did in yours. Hell, even when you saw his ex for the first time, you barely reacted. Maybe it was the way you were so adamant that he not leave any marks because you might not be able to cover them this weekend, or the way you made sure to not sit next to him at the gala even when you were seated on the same table by some stroke of luck. You didn’t love him like he did, and he would be happy with scraps, but he couldn’t afford to miss you more than he did. He laughed again, cackling maniacally, as he realized where he was: a rooftop in the middle of a downpour, just because you once said rooftops had magical healing powers. There was nothing healing about being alone looking at lights shining in offices no one was in - it was lonely.

He was so desperate to feel anything other than this fog that even anger was a better option. Maybe he wanted you to put him out of his misery, leave him as he was sure you would eventually before he burdened you with more of his fucked up life before he relied on you further just to have his legs cut out from under him. He sighed, shivering even though the rain was warm, resting his head on his knees. Could he survive if you left him tonight, justly so?

“Joon…?” You call out as you reach the rooftop, searching for him through the rain.

“I told hyung not to tell you. I wanna be alone” You barely hear him mumble from the corner and you make your way over to the dark figure. He’s hunched in on himself, his arms around his knees, his face in his hands and it breaks your heart. Your boyfriend is a tall, broad man who can easily throw you across the room if he wants to, but at this moment, he looks small, almost tiny. It takes everything in you to not just go and wrap him in your arms. 

“Namjoon, what are you doing?” You squat in front of him, resting your hands on his arms. You wouldn’t usually push him like this when he seems distraught, you knew he didn’t respond too well to direct conflict but you needed him to let you in, your inherent need to fix going into hyperdrive. When he refuses to look at you, you cup his face and pull it up firmly to look into his eyes. He looks like he’s been crying and it makes your eyes well up. “Look at me. Why are you driving me away?”

With nowhere to run, all he can see is your face, your eyes puffy, red-rimmed and glassy, your nose a dusty pink. He made you cry. He made the person he was supposed to take care of cry because he got pissy over something she couldn’t control, something he was guilty of as well. All his guilt bit at his chest again and he hated himself. You didn’t deserve this. You should leave him. Why were you here in the rain trying to comfort him when he was such a useless asshole?

“Fuck... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded hoarse and broken, and he knew all the apologies in the world wouldn’t make him worthy of forgiveness. He wished you’d just leave and let him wallow in the rain by himself - he deserved that. Tears filled his eyes and he hoped the rain would ensure they were invisible.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay.” You kissed him on the forehead, settling on your knees in front of him. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, his hands on top of yours, gripping your hands a little too tight.

“I… don’t know why I picked a fight.” He averted his gaze, not having the courage to look at you.

“It’s okay.” You move your hands to the back of his neck as he places his on your shoulders, opening his legs wide enough for you to move closer, your forehead against his as you caress the hair on his nape. 

“No, it’s not. Fuck! It’s like when I saw you yesterday I could finally breathe! I’ve felt so numb these few months but when I saw you, it’s like I could finally be happy.” He cups your face. He knows he needs to be honest but he doesn't know where to start.

“Joonie…”

“And then I could feel it escape again. I felt it. My head getting cloudy like I was slowly going underwater, and I don’t know… I just… I can’t ask you to be responsible for my happiness. It’s not fair to you. I can’t. I can’t.” He knows he’s not making any sense but his chest feels tight and he can’t fight his tears anymore as they mix with the raindrops on his cheeks. He can feel himself hyperventilating. He doesn’t know why he can’t tell you this without breaking down. What was wrong with him? Maybe that’s why you didn’t love him. Maybe that’s why you never got jealous because you knew he wasn’t worth it. How could he support you when he could barely stand by himself. He was so fucked up. 

“Joonie. It’s okay. Just breathe, okay? You’re okay.” You cradle his head against your chest, kissing the top of his head.

“I can’t lose you Y/N. I can’t be the jealous idiot that I always am and lose you.” He’s clawing at your sweater, pulling you closer than you are, making your eyes well up at his desperation. Why does he think he’s going to lose you? As far as you knew you had never given him any indication of that. You loved him and you couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“Namjoon. Look at me. It’s going to take more than a stupid fight to drive me away.” You pull his face away from your sweater and hold his gaze, his eyes red and still full of tears. The image breaks your heart but you hope you can convey your honesty to him.

“No, but you shouldn’t be with me. I’m fucked up, you know. You deserve better.” His actions speak otherwise as he holds your upper arms in both his hands tight enough to bruise as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Where is this coming from? Namjoon you’re not fucked up, you’re human. I don’t care how fucked up you think you are. I love you.” You look deep into his eyes, urging him to believe you. You had been trying to tell him you loved him all day but you always chickened out, but not now. You needed him to know that you were here for him. You were dying to know what started this, why he felt this way, but you needed him to realize that you had no plans of leaving.

“You… love me?” His voice was almost inaudible as his bottom lip quivered.

“Of course I love you. I love you - good parts and bad parts. I love 100% of you.” You kissed him gently, wiping at his face with your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re you. You make me happy, even when you make me mad you make me happy.” You put your forehead against his again as the rain picked up, pelting the both of you. “Just don’t run away from me, please?”

“I don't deserve you. Fuck. I love you so much it scares me.” He kisses you at that, rough and full of yearning. It’s like the first kiss you shared this weekend and it makes your heart ache. Did he feel this way when he saw you again yesterday? Like he didn’t deserve you? You wished you could go into his head and learn all his worries - this did not seem like only work stress to you.

“Hey. I’m scared too okay? It just means it’s real.”

“How do you do that? How do you sound so sure all the time?” His head is on your shoulder as you caress his hair. It seems as if all the energy has been drained from his body as his grip on you loosens and you feel his weight lean on you.

“Because I believe in us. We’re Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona. We’re OTP, remember?” You lift his face and smile at him as he musters a small one of his own, as you kiss him again. “Let’s get out of the rain, okay baby?”

You both are drenched from the rain when you get back to your room, and you lead Namjoon to the bathroom. He just stands there, eyes glassy as you start a bath and grab a towel, drying the rain on his body. Once the bath is full and bubbly, you undress him and guide him in, discarding your own own clothes before climbing in behind him.

“I always sit behind you when we bathe.” He says, voice barely audible.

“Let me wash your hair, is that okay?” you say tentatively, kissing the back of his neck as he nods.

Suddenly, his head snaps up as he speaks loudly, a slight panic in his voice. “I have to use the special shampoo so the colour doesn’t fade.”

“Yeah. I have it right here.” You smile as he relaxes and you foam the shampoo on his pink hair, massaging his scalp gently. You take your time, washing it out before moving onto the conditioner, letting it sit as you massage his shoulders. You hear him sniff as you work at the knots. As you’re washing the conditioner off his hair, he turns at the waist, bringing one hand to your cheek as he looks at you. You realize he was still crying as your own eyes threaten to fill with tears.

“Thank you, Y/N. I… I know I don’t deserve this. Thank you.”

“Shh… I love you Joonie. You deserve this and more.” You kiss him gently on each cheek and then on the lips. You are not sure how to make him believe this but you hope he can see how much you love him as you wipe his tears. Namjoon’s never been this vulnerable with you, never given up this much control, and if you’re being honest it scares you seeing him this way. In a way, you feel helpless. You’re a fixer and there’s just no immediate way to make him feel better, you just have to make sure he knows you’re here for him. 

After you get dressed, he lays in bed as you do his skincare routine for him, running your fingers over his face gently. Namjoon hasn’t felt this way with someone before, so raw but soothed at the same time. He never shows his negative emotions to anyone. Right now it feels like his emotions are a livewire, but the way you gently tap the serums on to his skin, making sure not to miss a spot, he realizes how wrong he was. All the ways he convinced himself you didn’t love him were wrong. You don’t show love through jealousy or possession or even words. This is how you show love - in the quiet of your room making sure that he doesn’t go to sleep drenched from the rain, or skip his eye cream so his eyes aren't too puffy in the morning or at breakfast when you always cut the crust off his bread because he once mentioned he doesn’t like it. He opens his eyes as you say all done and sees you smiling softly at him, some of his confidence coming back. He smiles at you even though it’s difficult, and pulls you to his chest. As you lay on his bare chest for a while, feeling how tightly his arms wrap around you, an idea pops into your head.

“I want to come with you to LA.” You usually don’t make such impulsive decisions, but you could feel that he was not ready to be separated and you were definitely not ready to leave him, but you didn’t want to make him feel like he didn't have a choice so you add, “Is that okay?”

“What about your work?” He asks softly and you can hear his heart beat faster as he awaits an answer.

“I work from home all the time. It’ll be fine.” You rise up slightly to look at him, your chin resting on his chest, making sure to look him in the eyes. “I want to be with you.”

For the first time that night, you see him smile wide enough that his dimples poke through his cheeks and you’re sure you’ve made the right decision.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you.” He pulls you further so you are fully lying on top of him and as you tell him you love him again, you feel his breath even out, both of you falling into a much need sleep.

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

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[joshslater]

Pink Drink Twink

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“Compliments from the gentleman in the corner” said the bartender as he placed the girliest of cocktails in front of me. A martini glass with a pinkish liquid, and a bright neon pink cherry on a stem in the middle. I looked up at Matt, who faced the right direction and saw his quizzical look turn into disgust. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s that fucking leather fag again. He’s still trying to score, even after what you told him” To say I rejected him was an understatement. Luckily freedom of speech trumps hate crime laws. Matt was just about to pour out the drink on the floor, when I stopped him.

“Hey, he’s not the one who has to clean it up.” Matt held the glass still for a few moments before setting it down next to our beers. “It’s harassment, that’s what it fucking is.” “Good luck convincing someone that handing out cocktails is harassing someone. In fact...” I said, picking out the cherry, dumping it in one empty beer glass, then pouring the liquid into another “...it is now acceptable free booze.” “Well, I’m not touching it.” “You are not pretty enough to have burly men buying you drinks.” “Thank fuck for that.”

It didn’t taste that special. Sweet raspberry with too low ABV to be interesting. But easily flushed down with another beer before we split. Matt had work in the morning, the plight of manual labor, but I had all weekend off. Despite our different trajectories after we graduated, we still enjoyed each other’s company. He was a dumbass, but made friends instantly with everyone, and I made heavy use of his truck.

It was such a surprise to wake up early Saturday morning. Sure, we didn’t drink heavily, but I was normally tapping my way through snoozes in my phone’s alarm. Now I woke up earlier than that, without even setting one. I could only pretend to be annoyed though, because I felt better than in weeks. Fully rested and full of energy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so I got up and got dressed. I made a mental note to be more consistent with my gym times. I looked much leaner than I recalled, but then those things hava a tendency to sneak up on you until you realize something needs to be done. Then I went to the mirror.

The pink hair is the most striking, of course, but to me the eyes are what makes the most impact. I have trouble comprehending what I see. Reflected back I see a version of myself that has been altered in far too many ways to count. It isn’t the brown-eyed, black-haired, chiseled ex-lacrosse player I was used to see, but someone with much more boyish features. My jawline is still pretty much there, but my nose is very different from what it used to be, and my eyes are greyish-blue with a sort of surprised or naive expression. What the fuck happened?

I let my fingers run through my pink tinged hair. It felt silky smooth, like I was an obsessive user of conditioner. It must be the pink cocktail. That’s the only thing out of the ordinary I could think of. What about Matt? I rushed to the phone and picked him from the phone history. It felt like an eternity as signal after signal went by.

“It’s Matt” “Thank fuck Matt, have you...” I stopped myself. I didn’t sound anything like I would usually sound like. I sounded like a teenager again. “Jeremy, is that you?” “Yeah. Is everything... normal?” “I would say so, yes. You sound really weird.” “I think I got something. Talk to you later.”

So some disgusting leather homo tries to pick me up at a bar. I turn him down. He hands me a potion or something that turns me into what exactly? What is his end game? It’s not like I would have sex with him, or any guy, just because I look like I’m in a boy band.

I’m confident I’m not just suddenly realizing I’m slimmer, but that too is due to the potion. I decide to not just chill all day as planned, but to go to the gym and see what the damage is. I figure I can wear a beanie to avoid looking like a weirdo.

Cardio is going great. I feel the positive energy from waking up pulsing through the body, and I’m going faster and for longer than I normally do on the treadmill. It’s like I woke up fully charged for the first time in months. As I move over to weights it turns sour quickly. I’m so much lower in weight than I normally do that it isn’t funny. I can barely do a few reps on what I would typically do 10-15 reps on. I drop to a lower weight, but now I’m tired instead and can barely do a few on the lower weight. I move between exercises, and it’s the same again and again. What’s worse is I’m getting an erection, perhaps from all the straining. It has never happened before. I give up on the set and head towards the locker room. I decided against taking a shower, not only because of my boner, but I realize I would have to take off my beanie. Instead I jog back home, which is feeling surprisingly good, all things considered.

Once back home go straight to the shower, rip off my gym clothes and throw them in a heap. I step into the shower and almost turn on the water before remembering to take off the beanie. I throw it on top of the pile, and let the water start running on my damp skin. Damn it feels good. It’s like everything is more sensitive today. My hard-on, that never really went away during the jog, perks up. I take plenty of soap and spend a good thirty minutes having the best wank in weeks, and end up pumping out liquid as if I was a soap dispenser myself. I’m so deep in trouble.

I’m struck by post wank clarity. All of this, even though parts of it is really fucking good, is because of that frilly drink. I must find that creep and confront him as soon as possible. Unfortunately it’s not even lunch yet, and there isn’t even a guarantee he would be at the bar tonight, or ever again. My plan of chilling and doing nothing for the day turns into anxiously doing nothing. I waste some time on unfocused gaming with terrible results. I’m not hungry, but eat a bowl of yogurt while browsing stuff I can’t remember 30 seconds later. Everything is just unbearable, so I put on my damp gym clothes again and leave for a run.

I’ve never been a big fan of running before. If this is another change forced upon me I’m actually kind of OK with it. It feels amazing to just ignore everything that is happening and just run at random. I don’t know for how long, but as I’m getting close to home again I start to sprint. I run as hard as I can, really giving it my all. It’s amazing. I’m soaked in sweat, panting deeply, and again have a throbbing erection. I don’t bother to reflect on any of it. I just pretend that everything is amazing, have an amazing shower with amazing soap and an amazing wank.

As I dry off myself my phone begins to ring. I know right away from the bathroom that it is Matt calling. Long ago I gave him the Nokia ringtone on my iPhone, which at some point was hilarious.

“Hi Matt” I shock myself with my voice. It has shifted even more since this morning, and now sounds like an obnoxious brat. “Hey, I just came off. Are you OK? You still sound different.” “I’m not really feeling like myself. It’s probably best if I stay in tonight.” “OK. I have some Netflix to catch up on. Get well. Target at ten tomorrow?” “Yeah, sure. Bye.”

I walk over to a mirror. I don’t look that different from this morning, do I? What if this wasn’t a change, but a process that has just begun? That I am slowly turning into someone else. Or something else. I look at the time on the phone. Still hours until the bar opened, so plenty of time to go crazy while thinking of this.

We had been at the bar much later yesterday, but I can’t risk missing him if he is early today, and I can’t stand sitting at home anyways. I dress simply, a white T-shirt and skinny jeans, and head over to the bar only half an hour after they opened. The bouncer takes forever to check my ID before letting me in. He is not here, but then so is no one else. Besides me and the staff there are only a handful of people. I tell the bartender that I’m looking for someone and might be here a while, order a diet coke, and grab a table by the wall from which I can see the entrance.

Three hours, two daiquiris and three diet cokes later I’m utterly bored. It’s only a quarter past eight, and so much more evening left, but I feel restless and tired at the same time. We didn’t arrive until well past nine, and the place doesn’t close until two. At what point do I give up?

Just as I’m thinking that I see him. The balding man in his forties, in black leather boots, black jeans and black leather jacket. I don’t like him. It looks so fake, the leather outfit he wears. Like he is pretending to be a gay tough guy from 1980. I quickly empty the last of my drink and start approaching him before he orders anything or grabs a seat. When his gaze catches me moving his way, his face turns smug and confident.

“Hi there, puppy. Looking for daddy” “Make it go back!” “Make what now?” “You did this to me, now undo it.” “I have no idea what you are talking about, puppy, or who you are” “You were hitting on me yesterday” “I hit on a lot of puppies, but I sure would have remembered you.” “You bought me a pink drink.” “You? YOU?! Well, I knew there was something to you. Have you changed your mind?” “What did you put in the drink?” His expression change completely. “I don’t know what you’re raving about. I never touched it. Is this a date rape accusation, because if it is you’ll have to talk to my lawyer. There is video recording in here after all.” “It’s... No, it’s not.” “If you excuse me, I think I’ve had enough of you.”

What did I expect? That he kicked his boot heels together and transformed me back? Did I really not have a better plan? If this really was his doing, he probably would have been prepared for this confrontation. Ready to take advantage of me. But he looked as surprised with my transformation as I was.

I walk back home, feeling dejected, disappointed and lost. What would I do next? Is there anything I can do? Another wank for sure, because I start to get that feeling and my skinny jeans aren’t doing me any favors. With some difficulty I do my best to get out of them as quickly as possible once inside the door. I go straight to my bed, lie down and start jacking off. I’m not even thinking about something in particular. Despite only having had two drinks I’m feeling a bit tipsy, in a good way. Like my body is glowing, and lying on my bed, wearing only a T-shirt and socks, jacking off, is the most amazing thing I could do with my life. It takes like forever until I shoot my load all over the front of my T-shirt, and once I’ve done that I continue to stroke myself until I drift off into sleep.

The Nokia ring tone coming from my front door wakes me up. I’m not tired, but somewhat confused as you are when woken in the wrong part of the sleep cycle, so I’m jumping out of bed almost involuntary. There is an uncomfortable tug as my body shifts and pulls the T-shirt glued by dried cum away from my torso. In the hallway lies a pair of skinny jeans playing the Nokia ringtone. In a pocket somewhere Matt is calling. I feel my way to the phone and answer.

“Hi Matt” My voice hasn’t changed much. I still sound like an arrogant teenager on an online game voice chat. “Hey dude. I’ll be perhaps ten minutes late. See you in half an hour.” “Yeah. No, wait!”

He has already hanged up. As I turn and look into the hallway mirror I’m stunned. The change from yesterday is even greater than from the day before. My hair has turned cotton candy pink and all my facial features have softened even more. I look at least five years younger, and my eyes have turned into proper blue. No one who knew me would recognize me anymore. I wouldn’t. My ID is worthless, and no fake ID would ever get me into a bar. What the fuck is going on. Am I shorter? I think I might actually be shorter than yesterday.

Normally on Sundays Matt and I go grocery shopping at Target in his pickup. I don’t want him to see me like this, but I need someone to help me figure out what is going on. I look at the phone again. I’ve already wasted four minutes. I need to shower and get dressed before he arrives. I rush into the bathroom, undress and get into the shower.

It’s like time stops when I turn on the water. The warm water makes my entire body tingle. My skin looks perfect and glistens wet in the bathroom light. I can’t see a single spot or blemish, though I know I had plenty. Not a single hair, though I most definitely had that before, except for the small, tight bush of cotton candy pink pubes. The sensation is so fucking incredibly amazingly sensual I start rubbing my dick. Not a proper jerk off, just small circles of my palm against my dick. I know I’ve lost even more mass since yesterday, but it looks like I’ve lost body fat too, because you can see a faint washboard. At least there is still some muscle left. As amazing as this feels, I can’t really be upset about any of the changes. Not here and now. I’m aware I’m moaning. I sound like Cindy in pol.sci. first time I fucked her.

The doorbell brings clarity. Matt is here already? I turn off the water and jump out of the shower. While I’m frantically drying myself I look for something to wear. Strewn on the floor are funky gym clothes and a cum-stiff T-shirt. I grab the beach bag from under the sink and put on my swim trunks. The bell again. I rush over to the door and open it.

At the moment I see Matt on the other side I realize it could have been someone else. What a shock that would have been for of us. Now it was just a shock for Matt.

“Holy Shit!” “Yeah. I know...”

The contrast is extra painful seeing Matt in his chill Sunday outfit. Relaxed jeans, navy sweatshirt on his wide upper body, hiding his muscles, but at the same time signaling that they are definitely there. He’s a head taller than me. We used to be the same height, the same build, the same outfit. Holy shit indeed. I stand there with ruffled pink hair, naked except for swim trunks that barely hides a raging hard-on. He looks bewildered.

“Matt, you must help me.”

He doesn’t answer, but I can see his bulge grow in his jeans. For the first time since I can’t remember how long I feel vulnerable. I’m literally exposed, one piece of clothing away from naked. He is standing in front of the closed door, the only way out. If he chooses to do something, there is nothing I can do to stop him. He is so much taller than me now, stronger, wider. I know the muscles below that sweatshirt of his. We’ve worked out together, so I’ve seen his chest both doing exercises and later naked in the shower. My arm is moving up his abs to his pecs, under the T-shirt, below his sweatshirt. He is frozen in place as I rub myself against his groin.

“Dude, are you alright?” Matt asks me, and I realize what I’m doing. I take a step back. “I can’t help it. Ever since that fucking pink cocktail I’ve been...” I don’t know what to say. What isn’t obvious about my situation is unexplainable. I see Matt struggle with something, before blurting out. “Would you mind continue what you were doing?”

Tentatively I stick my hand under his shirt again and rub against his body. “But... Do you mind doing it?” he asks. I don’t, I realize. But do I mind that I don’t mind? This must be part of the transformation that is happening. But Matt isn’t any random person. “Not with you, I don’t.” “Thank fuck for that.” He says and looks relieved. “Why?” “I... Sooo last Friday I might have put something in your beer that might have something to do with this...” “YOU FUCKING WHAT?” I don’t know what shocks me most, Matt’s betrayal or that he was able to pull off something like this at all. “It sounded like a good prank. A few drops and you would act all... different.” “Why the fuck would you want that?” His eyes starts tearing up and his voice is almost a whisper. “Because I like you. A lot.”

I’m still standing with my hand against his chest and have no clue what to do next. Fucking dumbass Matt admitted to ruin my life, outed himself as gay and professed his love for me in like 5 seconds. At least I think that’s what just happened. I slowly shift into a hug, and he hugs me back. I’m angry, I feel pity, but most of all I’m still horny. Damn all this.

Suddenly Matt breaks free. “I’ll drink it too!” “What? No! Look at me.” “It’s only fair.”

I’m quickly weighing my options, and come to a decision.

“No. You did this, so I decide what is fair. You do whatever I tell you to do. You show up when I tell you to. And we’ll have sex in whatever way I tell you to.” “Wah... We’ll...” “You heard me. I’ve been so fucking horny all weekend from those ‘few drops’ I don’t care what I fuck anymore. I want you naked in my bed within 30 seconds” “It was more of a dash than drops.” “25 seconds”

[gravelgirty]

Hi could you talk more about caves what you said on that post is really interesting

Sure thing!

First of all, it was an amazing cave I worked in. You never forget that. I'll pick one of my favorite topics,

the FALLOUT SHELTER AGGRAVATION TAX.

Clears throat.

Limestone caves are literally stone libraries in the geologic record of the world. Twice a year the airflow would change and then you'd smell smoke from decrepit old torches dating as far back as 1812. People made saltpeter in these caves, they were natural mines for things that went boom, and one of those 'requirements' meant airflow so you wouldn't suddenly and embarrassingly, drop dead of too much Underground. This is why the coal miners were eternally bemused and asking us questions like airflow. Sometimes you gotta canary. Sometimes you are the canary. This often led to predictable questions that was these old gents trying to be polite, but what they really wanted to know was,

'why the hell are you being paid $10 a trip plus tips to walk us 1.1 miles underground up to 3 times a day and no one has a mortgage gun aimed at your head?'

To which I would say, 'it wasn't quite that bad. If no one shows up at all we get paid $10.' ...Dear Saint Barbara, Chango, and the Gods of Deep Mystery, the things we tell ourselves. $10 a day. Crap. Thank goodness I had Granny's House, dad was paying the property tax, the water was on a well, and garbage was less that $20 a month. A shame we can't afford a TV, but hey, we can stay busy digging up that quarter-acre garden that will keep us fed plus the road kill Deer in the fall.

But the conditions that created saltpeter (I'll go into depth on that later if people are interested) also convinced some weird-ass people in Washington DC that caves were the perfect place to do a DR STRANGELOVE and people could go hide out in the caves, free of...well, nothing, really, because radiation = straight lines +caves, air, irradiated air and water, and everything goes down into the caves...

Look. It made people feel safe, ok? And it wasn't the worst decision the Pentagon ever made, considering they were telling the scientists working with HOT RADIOACTIVE MATTER to stay safe by sticking the stuff on a long pole so they wouldn't have to touch it.

Everybody knows about the bomb shelter President Kennedy was prepared to run to with his family in case of Cold War. It was in the Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs (I prefer to think of it as the HIDDEN FIGURES birthplace). FYI everybody who lived here knew where it was. There are only so many power stations one measly little resort that cries that it can't afford to pay for its own water bill can keep.

[insert sniffle boohoo sobbing of the pro-confederates who run that place and while I can't be there for you, try to imagine the joy I am stockpiling for the day when we have another traitorous uprising and this time, the resort doesn't get a GO PASS GO by dangerous romantics and is finally burned to the ground.]

Anyway, the important people like the President, his family, his Secret Service, his staff, cook, maid-in-waiting, bootblack and et al got to go bunker down in the luxurious bomb shelter at the resort, which probably wouldn't be very resort-y after a certain point of Castro going, 'fuck you, you whippersnapper Irish Dog' or Khrushchev throwing a little more than his shoe around. I'm not convinced it was that great of a place to hide, really. I mean...they have lightning rods on the trees over there, and believe it or not, cavers in that country have been hit by lightning while underground. Because. Lightning. If it can bake entire acres of potatoes in the field, two subterranean surveyors with metal measuring tape haven't got a prayer.

I want you to know that I can't at this point go into detail (space restrictions) on the importance of all these caves to Union Sympathizers, slaves on the Underground Railroad, and the Far-Righter MAGAS called Confederates. Trust me when I say, if you didn't know where these caves were, you had absolutely no right to know.

In Appalachia, limestone caves were listed on properties and handed down because of their value. Thomas Jefferson made a point of making sure there were lots of caves to provide nitre for the Gunpowder Committee. I don't know if landowners had to pay taxes for having saltpeter caves (probably), but when the Cold War came around, they definitely and cheerfully sold the access rights to the government because...it was the government. I am not in the least bit joking when I tell you there are people over there who are still pissed off over George Washington's Whiskey Rebellion.

If you really want to get into the psyche of Appalachians, go read up every scene Terry Pratchett ever wrote about Lancre in his Discworld books. Just give them more libraries and a LOT of coffee stations.

Oh, dear. I forgot all about the owling and the Prohibition.

Owling = the practice of moving your herds of cattle from one ridge to the next to avoid a higher payment when the taxman came a-calling.

Prohibition = The Second Oldest Profession.

These days, many of the Fallout Shelter caves are being used for...modern needs. Meth labs, if you're a sensationalist, but if you aren't, bear in mind that hiding out stolen cattle and horses still requires big places out in the middle of nowhere. But when Mr. Gov't Man came around and offered cash for the access rights to grand-daddy's old saltpetre cave? Goodness gracious, we know we aren't supposed to take people's money from them because that's a sin, but...taxes...you know how it is... (most of the mountain folk had no real quarrel with Kennedy despite his heathen dog Catholicism because it wasn't his fault he was brought up Catholic, but when it came to the government...well, it was the principle of the thing).

In short order papers were drawn, and shelters were built and good god, they were ugly. Clapboard shantytowns, I swear. They were stockpiles whacked together with off-brand plank and tenpenny nails for where the selected few could bunker up in the cozy, damp, dripping, chilly, dusty, sneezy, probably-warm-from-stray-radiation environs. I have no idea who the Pentagon hated enough that they would send them to these caves. They had a bottleneck opening for easy defense, yes, but there was no defense against puking yourself to death or accidentally taking off your own skin with your uniform at the end of your shift.

YOU THINK I"M KIDDING?? YOU THINK IT IS A COINCIDENCE THAT CLASSIC DR WHO SHOWS DALEK HISTORY IN AN OLD STONE QUARRY? WELCOME ABOARD!

A fallout shelter's stockpile generally consisted of

*High-quality medical equipment, even though some of that stuff had a shelf life of three minutes.

*Radio Equipment. Which was probably a real belly laugh to the folks running the NARO satellite dishes up in Green Bank, because families in the most rural portion of WV (Pocahontas County) spent their evenings parsing Latin and teaching the young lads and lasses the wonders of shortwave and how to rig up your own crystals in case you needed to jackleg your own.

*Food. God. Awful. Food. It was designed to keep you alive, but you can't say anything more charitable about it. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody tried to corner a government contract on dehydrated water.

*Water. Potable water for drinking, but, I should say, I couldn't find any means with which you could make a potable distillery. Or, how much of this potable water was going to be used to rehydrate the ghastly awfulness of the dehydrated food, or the canned goods that included stuff the military couldn't wait to forget. Go ask your grandparents how much canned horse Circa WWII they ate while they served, m'kay?

*Candy. High energy, easily digestible candy. Flavor optional, at the discretion of the same government that made the WWII Chocolate Bar.

*The containers themselves. Yep, they counted. They were heavy metal barrels and tough buckets or small drums, plus the amazingly dense metal and plastic containers for medical kits, candy, and misc. I'm not sure if they had a requirement other than impervious, waterproof, and on sale. In fact, the smaller drums/buckets were supposed to be lined with the plastic used to wrap the other goods, and convert into a toilet.

Cold War comes and goes. I'm sure what happened next is shocking:

1) medical supplies goes missing in the dead of night.

2) Electronics follows. That probably makes the electricians feel good, because...what good would they have done in the wet, dust-filled atmosphere of the caves?

3) Candy. Candy, did you say? I don't remember seeing any candy..?

4) The gradual disappearance of the food rations is mysteriously in proportion to camping trips multitasking with double-dog-dares. Who needs a frat pledge if Freckles here has never been introduced to the joys of Dehydrated Ketchup?

5) If you think the backyard blacksmiths are making forges with tire rims, do you think metal containers stand a chance?

This leaves the barrels of water, but who would want to drink that stuff? It's been sitting around for how long? Ew. And the boards for those shelters...cripes.

This inadvertently makes up a tiny little side bonus for the hard-working tour guide. Because these shelters are usually ridiculously close to the entrance of the tour caves. You have to take your tour group in stages, see, and once they finish gasping and wheezing their way through the first 300 steps, you have to take their minds off how miserable they are and pause at the shelter with your flashlight, and describe this little chapter of history. By this time the bats are hanging off the boards (your chance to remind them of the exorbitant federal fines for hurting these little mosquito-hunters), the occasional lost salamander, and the beginnings of the Dreaded Cave Cricket (ten minutes with these little monsters and you'll never think pink is an effete color ever again).

And the mold. There are patches of mold the guides have been watching for YEARS. Some of them have even bothered to look them up, because...tourists. They love to stump the guides and use it as an excuse for not tipping you because you haven't taken a Master's in The Encompassing Topic of Karst Everything and are clearly a dumbass, hah-hah I'll spend my money in the overpriced gift shop, peasant.

But no, folks. If you ask them one more damn time if they're sure all the candy and drugs are gone...we're too tired to take your bleeping bleep bleep tip anyway.

[myhealthmag]

Best Methods to a Healthier Weight

When it comes to health, little matters more than weight. Maintaining a healthy weight can lower the risk of 13 different cancers – plus stroke, heart disease, diabetes, arthritis, and many other chronic conditions.

And some simple, doable weight goals can have important health benefits – for everyone. Just keeping your weight steady – no matter your current weight – has payoffs, as can losing as little as five to ten pounds if you’re overweight. Getting down to a healthy weight and maintaining it has even bigger health benefits.

In this speedy age it’s hard to maintain health and fitness. We need a lot of time, money and expertise. For the same reason the doctors and Physicians are recommending fitness supplements more than ever. These formulae work best if you are recommended the best. Being a nutritionist, I am recommending a Best Weight Loss Supplement For many months. It gives my clients speedy results, satisfaction and stability. Zero side Effects.

 It’s an excellent Fat cutter, energizer, cancer prevention, age restriction, immunity booster and health glower at the same time and in the short time. In maximum 7 weeks you get a slim smart body, shining cheeks, active brain and high level (tested) of immunity. Click Here to see its review.

These eight ways can be your guide, whatever your goal. They highlight simple changes to how you eat and how you move. Start today with one or two. Then, build from there.

1. Eat healthy plant foods – and fewer animal products

You’ve heard this before – and for good reason. A largely plant-based diet filled with fruits, vegetables, beans, nuts, and whole grains is not only good for overall health, but also good for keeping weight in check. Among other things, it can help you feel full longer, and with fewer calories.

2. Choose smaller portions

Portion sizes have ballooned over the years – and our waist sizes along with them. A single fast food meal can have more than a day’s worth of calories, sodium, and unhealthy fats. But even at home, we’re serving ourselves more food. Choosing smaller portions is a great way to keep calories and weight in check. Eating out less is best, and when you do eat out, pick an à la carte item rather than a full meal, or split a dish with a friend. At home, keep to recommended serving sizes and try smaller plates, which can make recommended portions feel bigger.

3. Avoid sugary drinks

Sugary drinks – such as sodas, energy drinks, juice drinks, and many coffee drinks – are a major source of extra calories and have been found to increase the risk of obesity, diabetes, and heart disease. Cutting back on sugary drinks is an easy way to shave calories from your day. And getting down to zero is best, even for 100% juice. Try no-calorie fizzy water and unsweetened coffee and tea instead.

4. Cut back on added calories

We add a lot of extra calories to our food, and often without even thinking about it. Things like butter, cheese, and bacon on a potato; sour cream on a burrito; and sugar, whole milk, and whipped cream in our coffee. These calories can really add up over time. Cut back on these extras or try some lower calorie options instead, such as salsa, tomato, cheddar powder, and non-fat milk.

5. Start the day with a healthy breakfast

A healthy breakfast can give you energy for a busy morning – and keep hunger pangs away until lunchtime. Include a couple different types of healthy foods, such as fruit, whole-grain bread and cereal, low-fat plain yogurt, or an egg or two. Avoid foods such as sugary cereals, doughnuts, bacon, white bread, and whole milk.

6. Move your body

Being physically active is a great way to maintain or lose weight, especially when paired with healthy eating. Any amount of activity is better than none, but when it comes to weight control, the general rule is: the more, the better. Try to work up to around five hours of brisk activity a week. Choose something you like that gets you moving – and do it regularly. Cutting down on the amount of time you spend sitting is also good, even if you exercise. Stand as much as you can during the day. When you do sit, try to take a short walk once or twice an hour.

7. Hop on the scale

Hopping on your bathroom scale once a week or more is a great way to keep track of how you’re doing with your weight. Weight gain often catches people by surprise. By weighing yourself regularly, you can keep surprises at bay and make any needed adjustments to what you’re eating and how active you are. It’s especially good for helping to keep off pounds that you’ve lost. For an added bonus, keep track of your waist size with a tape measure. Putting on inches around the middle, even if you’re a healthy weight, can increase your disease risk.

8. Keep a food diary

When  it comes to keeping weight in check, calories matter. So, it can be helpful to set a daily calorie goal and use a food and drink diary to track your calories throughout the day. Apps and online tools can make this pretty simple. Some days you’ll be over your goal. Some days below. It’s the overall trend, though, that is most important and lets you know if you should make any adjustments.

[sugarstark]

You guys have REPEATEDLY requested I cover this so- here is a full info sheet on the Little Training Centers in ctca

🐮 the centers themselves are completely remote facilities with accompanied farmland. in the case of mackleberry, a milkman comes daily and certain employees are required to fetch groceries. no littles leave under any circumstances until they are of adoptable age and are transported to an adoption center.

👔 all littles wear uniforms. these vary based on age range and personal needs, but each little has three sets of a winter uniform, four sets of a summer uniform, and two sets of play clothes for when they may get dirty.

🥦 all of the food served is completely intentional. breakfast is filled with dairy and carbs, lunch is some type of meat, and dinner is always a healthy meal with plenty of fruits and vegetables.

🧃for those too young to eat the “big kid meals”, an older little or a staff member will make sure they are fed a similar meal in the form of baby food or are given a bottle.

🧸 every little has a locked cubby in the hall for personal objects. these objects are documented extensively and are only to be taken out by a staff member. this way, a little can “own” something to gain healthy emotional attachment to.

🍼 the babies are kept on a strict bottle schedule. for peter’s age range, he would get one with breakfast, one before naptime, and one at bedtime.

🍭 each little is allowed one piece of candy per day. if they ask the headmaster politely, a second may just so happen to appear, but thats only for his favorites. one time, peter ended up with six pieces.

👼🏽 good behavior can earn the littles almost any award they can dream of. it may be a new toy added to their cubby, or it could be a car ride around the nearest town for some fresh views. either way, if they don’t have any disciplinary issues for a month, there is always a treat in store.

🎨 painting is offered daily during playtime so that the finished products can be used to decorate the building. depending on age, a little may or may not be offered a brush, but all of the paint is non-toxic and finger-ready for the ones that tend to try and drink it.

🤸🏽‍♂️ the littles are not encouraged to rough house, but there’s only so much you can do with all that newfound energy, so a weekly gymnastics lesson is held for the troublemakers to keep them from fighting.

🪑 punishments are issued regularly bu the headmaster. littles may be subjected to timeouts, spankings, essay writing, loss of privileges, early bedtime, writing lines, or feeding a younger little during meals before themselves.

🥏 all outdoor toys are only given to littles older than 4. the younger ones may either play on the safe equipment or go inside for an activity.

🧽 all of the littles are expected to do chores, save for those under 12 months who simply can’t feasibly help. while the bigger kids do most of the janitorial work, the littler ones wash the dishes and pick up every toy on site.

⛵️sometimes, the littles get to take a boat ride on the lake. it’s not much, but the rumors about there being mermaids in there get more elaborate every day, so the excitement is there.

🧺 the littles are never entrusted with doing their own laundry. all dirty clothes are collected when they get changed, and are taken care of by a staff member.

🗝 the littles are locked in the dormitories after 9- no excuses. any of them under the age of 8 are put in nightly protection even if they wouldn’t normally need it due to lack of bathroom access.

🖍 pens and pencils are banned. they simply remind the littles too much of pre-classification schooling. as such, everything is done in crayon or washable marker.

🩹 there is a nurse available for any sicknesses of injuries, and also a separate infirmary to keep outbreaks to a minimum.

🧴bath time is a whole event. each little gets a bath every day, so there are ten bathtubs in the building. a building with 3 bathrooms. three tubs to a bathroom, and one bonus tub in the infirmary.

🚀 classroom activities are extremely important in helping a little to transition. by reaffirming what they should and shouldn’t know, it keeps them from fighting the natural regression. these classes will repeatedly go over the same topics such as “sharing is caring” and the rules of patty cake.

[hockeylvr59]

Proving Your Worth Part 11 || Jonathan Toews

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Christmas in June? Yep. Have some meeting the parents, and some sappy sweet presents exchanged. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,322

______

Christmas in Chicago was far different from Christmas in Ohio. First, the lake effect had brought snow, something you hadn’t had in Ohio for quite some time. Second, the hustle and bustle never let up but at the same time, the energy around the city was so joyous that you couldn’t help but be happy. 

Happy but nervous. 

Somehow your parents had been able to make a trip out happen and had arrived late on the 23rd with your sisters. So now...not only were you meeting Jon’s parents for the first time, he was meeting yours and your parents were meeting each other. It was overwhelming to say the least. 

You’d settled down in bed after your parents had returned to their hotel room last night and talked with Jon about plans for today. He’d assured you that he’d told his parents about you, about the baby, and that they were excited to meet you. Even though he’d assured you that his parents were totally cool with the pregnancy, you couldn’t help but be worried about what they were thinking. You needed today to go well, needed his parents to like you because you had it bad for their son. 

You’d woken up far before your parents and sisters were supposed to arrive at your place to do Christmas morning, too filled with anxiety to sleep any longer. Checking your phone you couldn’t help but smile at Jon’s usual ‘good morning’ message with its ‘merry Christmas’ addendum and how he couldn’t wait to see you later. Pulling yourself out of bed, you decided to shower, slipping into clean pajamas before heading into your kitchen to start breakfast. With a mug of tea in hand, you settled against the wall next to your windows and looked out onto the snowy streets with a hand pressed to your ever-growing bump. At 15 weeks you were now noticeably showing; people around the office starting to comment about your changing figure. While you could do without the comments from well-meaning strangers and acquaintances, the way Jon seemed to adore your body as it adapted to carry a child was everything. He had jumped headfirst into all of this far better than you had expected and it made your biggest present to him that much more important. 

As usual, exchanging presents with your family took forever, but it was fun and relaxed, and having them here with you meant the world. Quite a few of your presents had to do with the baby, but you didn’t mind, they were things you needed after all. With presents opened and stashed in piles around your apartment for them to pick up before leaving tomorrow, you popped one of the new movies someone had been gifted in and settled down with some snacks until it was time to get ready to head across town to Jon’s. Though the movie was one you were interested in seeing, you honestly couldn’t sit still, your anxiety growing along with your need for things to go well. 

Dinner was a step above casual in regards to dress code. You knew Jon would be in dress slacks and either a button-up or a nicer sweater and so you had planned your outfit around that. With your fidgeting driving at least yourself crazy, you retreated to your bedroom mid-movie to start getting ready. Your hair was curled into loose waves and you’d done a dramatic gold shadow onto your eyelids. Besides that, your makeup was fairly neutral. Pacing around your room, you put things away and moved things around just trying to kill time before you could actually get dressed. As the movie ended, your family snuck into your bathroom, using it to get themselves changed and ready to go. Ten minutes before you needed to leave you finally pulled your dress from the closet, slipping into the emerald green fabric, smoothing it over your stomach. A white sweater was added over the sleeveless gown and you clasped a simple triangle shaped necklace around your throat and a silver and emerald-colored bracelet over your wrist. Sliding into a pair of black flats, you moved to the living room to grab your purse and jacket. 

With Jon’s presents already hidden in your car, you ushered your family downstairs as you tried to calm your nerves. This was probably the biggest moment in your relationship to date and you were starting to freak out. Parking in the spare spot at Jon’s building, you gathered up the presents and led your family inside, waving at Jon’s doorman as he smiled and granted permission for the elevator to rise to Jon’s floor. The moment Jon opened his door, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, and just like that your anxiety floated away. He was quick to take coats after that, introducing himself to your family as he did so, inviting all of you inside to make yourselves comfortable. By the time you had settled your presents down under Jon’s mostly empty tree, he had returned and his hand fell to the curve of your back as he introduced you and your family to his own. 

His mother Andree was quick to approach for hugs, whispering congratulations in your ear and how she was so excited to meet the woman who had stolen her son’s heart. She added that a grandchild was a bonus she hadn’t expected but was thrilled for and that if there was anything you needed all you had to do was ask. His father Brian and his brother David were a little less forward, their hugs timid but not unwelcoming. Jon had disappeared at some point, only to return to place a glass in your hands filled with non-alcoholic champagne he’d found that you had previously enjoyed. It was clear that he had also gotten drinks for the rest of your family and he urged everyone to sit and make themselves comfortable. 

At first, conversations seemed somewhat strained, but by the time dinner was ready, everyone was chatting. Your dad and Jon’s father and brother; your mom and sisters with his. Jokes were made about how nice of a balance this was because your father lived with all girls and his mother lived with a bunch of men. 

Dinner was absolutely delicious, and it felt like this could really be your future as Jon sat next to you, his hand resting gently on your thigh. You convinced David to spill all of the stories Jon didn’t want you to know and your moms compared baby stories. Dinner was followed by dessert, a delicious chocolate cheesecake because Jon knew it was your favorite. That brought up stories of the fact that it likely became your favorite because your dad’s roommate had made it for your mom all the time while she was pregnant with you. 

As the evening wore on, you played a few games together before your parents got a cab back to the hotel and Jon’s family retreated back to bed leaving the two of you alone together for the first time all day. For a while, you just sat on the couch, your legs draped over Jon’s lap as you finished your nth glass of champagne and Jon finished off the rest of his beer as Christmas music played over some speakers softly. 

Kissing you, Jon moved to get up, and you watched as he grabbed six packages from under the tree, three for him and three for you. Returning with them, he settled himself back under your legs and handed you the first of your presents. Both of you had promised not to go too big monetarily so you were curious about what he had chosen. Unwrapping the first box, you found a certificate for a pregnancy massage inside and you smiled. 

“For when the aches are too much and I’m out of town.” He explained. “Or when I just don’t do a good enough job.” He teased. 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” You murmured, stealing another kiss. After pointing to each of the presents to see which one you wanted him to open first, he grabbed the smallest of the three boxes and unwrapped it to reveal an ice cream cone ornament. 

“I know it’s cheesy...but you’re hard to shop for and I thought it would be a nice reminder of our first date.” You explained, hoping that it was an okay present because you had struggled with what to buy a man who can buy himself anything he wants. 

“I love it. We’ll add it to the tree as soon as we’re done.” He insisted, his genuine smile reassuring you that he didn’t think it was a dumb present. 

The second present Jon handed you was a silver and gold bracelet, a heart shaped from the metal. The cardboard tucked inside the box from the designer read: “Wear this simple heart design as a reminder to yourself: ‘I am Cherished and loved’.” It was simple and beautiful and because it was just metal you knew that it wasn’t something that cost him a fortune so he didn’t break your agreement in getting you jewelry. Looking at the piece you knew he had chosen it for its meaning, as another way of reminding you just how important you were to him. 

His second present was the largest of the three, a framed photo of the two of you sitting on the Hamilton stage. 

“I know just where to hang this.” He insisted, kissing you once more as a silent thank you. 

With only one present each left you debated on who should go first, and the fact that that was even an issue suggested that both of your remaining presents were the most important of the three. Eventually, Jon caved to you wanting him to open last and he handed you a third small box. Tucked inside was something very familiar, in fact, you’d had this exact item in your hands a few times when Jon asked you to come over and be there when he got back into town. This time though you knew the fact that he was giving you a key was for more than just convenience. 

“Jon…?” You questioned, looking up at him. 

“Move in with me?” He inquired, one hand resting against your legs as the other rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not saying it has to be this week or even this month but...you’ve said before your place is too small for when the baby arrives. Don’t go look for another place. Move in here instead. There’s plenty of room for you and the baby here. And I want both of you here. I want to be able to come home to both of you, to help with the middle of the night feedings and changes. So move in with me Y/N. Please. 

Jon certainly had a point but at the same time you’d only been together for a month so this was just another step that was coming quicker than you had expected. Still, he had assured you it didn’t have to be right away, that you could make the gradual transition over the next few months. Though you were concerned, once look in Jon’s eyes informed you he had thought this over, that this was really what he wanted and so you decided to take another leap and nodded. 

“Okay. We’ll slowly start the process of me moving in.” You agreed. This time when Jon kissed you, it was full of something more, a deeper level of love and affection. 

“Can I open my last present now?” He asked, silly grin on his face when he finally pulled away. 

“Oh, I suppose so.” You teased, though you were secretly very nervous as to what his reception to this gift would be. It was a decision you had thought long and hard on but it was something that felt right. 

With the wrapping paper littering the floor, you watched as Jon took in the book you’d gifted him. It wasn’t just any book, it was a book of baby names. 

“This is cool...but I have a feeling there’s an explanation or significance I’m missing,” Jon admitted. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you paused for a moment trying to put what you wanted to say into words. 

“It’s so you can help me...you know...name the baby.” You whispered, glancing down. As your brain started to critique the gift, Jon’s fingers brushed against your chin, lifting your gaze to his. 

“You want me to help name the baby?” He questioned, voice gentle. 

“I thought it might be special.” You admitted. “Baby doesn’t have your DNA but at least daddy could help pick his or her name.” Jon’s hand fell to your bump and he leaned forward pressing his forehead to your own. 

“I would be honored to help you pick a name.” He assured you, easing his lips over yours into a deep and lingering kiss. “I promise you I’ll be the best dad.” He added, his breath still ghosting over your mouth. 

“I know you will.” You agreed. “The best dads are the ones who didn’t have to be.” 

As Jon pulled away you noticed the tears on his cheeks and you reached up to wipe them away. 

“Thank you for tonight.” He murmured. “My family loves you...especially my mom.” 

“I think you won over my family.” You agreed. It was hard to tell what your family thought but it seemed like they were relieved you were being well taken care of and respected. 

“Merry first Christmas gorgeous.” Jon declared. 

“Merry first Christmas Jon.” You replied, snuggling yourself into his side and watching as the flames flickered in his gas fireplace. You’d have to go home soon, but for now, this was all you needed. 

Meet the parents outfit: 

Presents: