#the universe is just blowing my mind I guess

[thinksomenoise]

The fact that eternity is just a sequence of seconds is freaking me out

[blackmoonoracle]

this PAC is for romantic and platonic connections!

The connection between you and whoever is on your mind.

P I L E O N E

You could have a very watery feminine energy & Your person could be a little strict or strained sometimes in their love language. Saturn as well as Black Moon Lilith in Aquarius came out here. So, we've got a lot of saturnian energy going on, especially with Libra being in the mix. Your person might encourage you to be your authentic self, while struggling to maintain that for themselves.

I keep seeing images of a couple arguing on a dock while a storm is just blowing. The woman looks frantic and upset, and the man seems very disconnected and unworried.

You could have very powerful thoughts and emotions, you could have water in your big 3 and you might be a beach girly or something, I also did hear marine biologist so idk if that applies to someone 🤣

It feels like your person has a hard time letting people know when it feels dark inside of them. I feel like they can be a bit restrictive at times, they could make you feel trapped or lost sometimes. Like you don't know where you're headed or what to look towards.

This person seems very unhealed. It feels like they will literally rip themselves apart for whoever they love. They intend well, they may have a tendency for secret self harm? Or very cruel and negative self talk and self image.

They could also be in the process of ending this cycle of self harm & being a martyr. It seems with the 6 of air that they are trying to start a new cycle in their lives. I guess we're getting a very balanced look at this person 🤣

They may be very traumatized.

Afraid of reality, or scared of vulnerability.

Mercury by Steve Lacy just came on, this person could be a Gemini!

Ykw. The 8 of earth just came out, this is some goddamn Virgo energy 🤣

I feel like this is the type of person who has a very practical improvement and solution oriented approach to life and relationships.

They could have Venus in capricorn, or DSC in capricorn (cancer rising).

It feels like they are fiercely loving & protective & loyal.

They really care about you, they care so deeply it hurts them sometimes. Because you may remind them of something or someone. Something they felt they could never have or attain. I feel like this person could be elevating your status somehow.

To me it feels like they're very methodical and forward thinking but also very eccentric and a bit chaotic mentally as well.

A very unique person, could be some intense uranian energy here as well. (Moon/mercury/ASC/10h aspect to Uranus)

I heard maladaptive but also thought of the word malediction.

So they could get very stuck in their head to the point they create almost like very negative manifestations of reality into existence in the world around them.

They're very scared of being hurt again & it honestly feels like they avoid deep connection. It's like superficiality can be easier because it is easier to maintain. This person could be very scarred by their past. It feels like a lot of trauma and loneliness was experienced by your person. They try their best to forget and it seems almost like whatever they experienced penetrated their heart very deeply.

They may have loved someone before that hurt them very very very badly. It feels like theres almost this innocent scared child inside of them. I heard sad eyes, it's important not to get into a savior complex.

Don't take on unnecessary baggage, if this is something you do want to engage with and they are working on themselves & healing I think this could be a really positive connection.

It feels like this person is a soul nurturer. They know how to make you feel like the center of their universe & It makes you feel very warm. I keep thinking of like velvet textures and sort of a 70's aesthetic in my mind. I'm also thinking of bootsy collins, they could have a retro aesthetic or vibe to them.

They may also like funk music, funkadelic/Parliament in particular comes to my mind for obvious reasons lol.

This person is really eccentric, they just stand out. It's weird the dichotomy of this person. They almost feel like a walking paradox 🤣

They could be very surprising, maybe they do & say a lot of unexpected stuff. You might never know how they'll respond to something or fully guess what they'd think about it.

They might really enjoy contrast, I also heard contrarian. So they may like to break the boundaries and barriers and ideas that people try to place upon them. This is very Aquarian/Uranian 🤣

We love a rebel

If you want a more detailed message on this person you can always dm me for a 1:1 in depth reading on this topic for 50$ 😚

Channeled messages:

Condescending, Let your hair down, Atrophied, Catastrophic, Nails on a chalkboard, Lonely, Drowning, Swallowing, Brown hair, Virgo, Gemini, Cap, Libra, Aqua, Cap venus

P I L E T W O

I feel like your person is goofy as fuck, they may be a stark contrast against people you've liked before. It seems like this person has brought you a lot of simultaneous joy and connection as well as heartbreak. I feel like this is someone who may be a provider, or who could be very humble. This is someone who will get the job done, one way or another. They may be the type to take on mundane or frustrating tasks. I feel like one of the ways this person shows love oddly enough is by dousing out their flame. It's not on purpose, but I think that this person may silence their selves and their needs super frequently in favor of allowing others to take up their space too. I feel like this person is very in their own mind. I heard "brother" and "sibling" so this person could feel like family to you. I also feel like this person makes you feel different. Like, almost as if you are your unique self expression. They could make you feel soft and feminine in ways you haven't experienced before. Which results in a lot of anxious, internalized, almost deflective energy between the both of you. In the Eve Oracle card which came out, her back is facing towards Adam as she holds an apple. It could be that you overlook this person's love at times, thinking that there is something better for you out there. That this person isn't worth your time, which, granted I can't tell you what to do or what your experience is. But, in my perspective, I think you actually need to give this person more credit. You need to be honest with them, and maybe put down the walls. I heard can't forget the past, so it's possible y'all had a difficult run. If that's the case & you can't forgive I feel like you need to ask yourself why you still participate in the connection. They clearly adore you, and it seems like you don't understand that they are capable of adoring you. They have a very deep admiration for you, I feel like they always have. This person may fight for you and defend you in ways you aren't aware of. It feels like a passive form of protection, you don't always understand that they are a bit more passive in their love language. This is someone who is more thoughtful than passionate. I feel like you two manifested each other in some way shape or form, especially if this is a romantic connection or friendship. I heard soul connection, your souls came across each other in this lifetime to help each other unleash and integrate your shadows. To purify your souls, and to release what no longer serves you. I just keep feeling that this person is very unique, they're nothing like what people might expect of them. I see here where you may not know it, but this person is kind of a master manifestor.

You could've also been family in a past life, the Mother Earth card came out with Saturn. So it feels like this is a very karmic relationship. I see where you may feel driven to let them go, or almost this push or pull to be with them simultaneously. I heard something about "the moon wants you to be together" which is weird? For someone this could have to do with Hekate. I also heard Lilith. I feel like this person is trying to step up to the plate but you aren't seeing it. For some reason astrology is extremely important in this connection, looking at the synastry between y'all could help you better grasp the magnitude of what you are both experiencing. It's crazy how this song is lining up in a way the lyrics are "Feel the warmth coming through Streams of light come into view In a daze, but coming to Slipping away, falling through"

I honestly recommend listening to this song for clarity, Invisible - The Groovy Nobody It feels like this connection was fated or destined, I heard written in the stars. You guys really need to look at your synastry together or something. If you and your person are into astrology. I also have Neptune with Black Moon Lilith in Pisces and Black Moon Lilith in Leo. It feels like your shadows almost become projected unto one another. The Sun also came out, it feels like you two Mirror heavily. I'm not big on twin flame shit, and never have been- HOW IN THE EVER. IF that's something that's come up HEALTHILY, and not in a dynamic that is actively harmful and abusive then MAYBE it's something you should POSSIBLY consider pondering as a concept and learning about soul connection. If this person treats you like shit then forget about it, immediately, and do not engage. I don't care how much they love you, if they're actively causing you intentional or unintentional damage in the same pattern even if you've communicated about it, and if they are unreceptive and unwilling to change kiss their ass goodbye.

Know your worth. I just want to make one thing abundantly clear here, which is the matter of the fact that any point you can come out of alignment with someone. The thing is, that everything is part of a cycle, and part of a collective. That's how collective energies work, so just as there are plenty of you in this particular collective having this particular experience there are more and less evolved versions of that same person. Different people of course, who are unique and different from your person. Yet, who have a similar energetic composition or depending on how things go that could even be YOU shifting into a new collective or them shifting into a new collective. This is about matching energy, but not in a petty way. Learning that the two of you are literal mirrors to each others souls', so just keep that in mind.

Astrological placements: 12H Sun, Gemini moon, mars in cancer/4h Mars, Mars square moon, Mars conjunct sun, moon in the 9th house or 9 degree moon, Aquarius Sun, Aquarius Moon, Venus in Capricorn.

Channeled words: Dominance, envy, compassionate, bones, baby blue converse tennis shoes, Santa muerte, stellaris, Planetarium, Cassiopeia, Vashti, Cereal Milk, Vampire Diaries, Courage the Cowardly dog, City of Angels,

P I L E T H R E E Whoever holds Feminine energy in this connection is a very powerful being. This is someone who has a commanding energy, very womanly, very witchy, very much dark Feminine energy. This Feminine is very in tune with their shadow, it seems like second nature to them low-key. This person may push the boundaries and limitations of what you previously thought you knew. This person may be contemplating their next moves at the moment. They could feel like they want to make shit work out in their favor in life for once. It's such a cosmic energy, it's so powerful. I feel like if you're the feminine energy this is your energy, I don't think the feminine energies in this pile fully grasp their power. You deserve what you desire. Anyways, back to you and your person! It's so crazy, because as I was pulling cards I kept thinking to myself how your person feels like outer space. Or like a void, but not in a negative way, it's just that their energy is very deep and almost reminds me of the darkness that exists within and without. This connection is likely deeply transformative for you in some way shape or form. Anyways, but ASHERAH fell out and I remember my mentor telling me before that when Asherah divorced from Yahweh she went to space. He told me about this because at the time I was super curious about Jack Parsons and asked about his suicide. A lot of people believe he killed himself to be with Asherah. ANYWHO LOL, This connection is meant to guide you towards your purpose. I heard high level soul mate, so you and this person could be very in tune and in a healthy state. There feels like a lot of passion and admiration. I'm channeling Dirty Woman by Pink Floyd, lmao wowww the song is 3:33 3 is the number of Saturn, and I low-key see this in a sense of longevity. This may be your person frfr, I feel like there's sooo much passion here. It's giving Aries. You could have Aries Mars, Moon, Venus, or Sun. This is deep awe-inspiring passion that lights your heart on fire. It feels like there is a deep creative or sexual connection here, take what resonates!

I just heard Mars in the 12th house? Idk why I started channeling I wanna be Evil by Eartha Kitt, I feel like this person is incredibly unorthodox. They may be a bit of an edgelord (it Is very Aries energy tho, so are we really surprised?) I feel like this is someone who can be sultry, passionate, and outgoing, but also is highly intelligent. Someone with a huge personality, they could be very Theatrical in their self expressions. It's very much giving Leo and Black Moon Lilith in Leo actually came out LOL with Queen Jezebel and The Black Madonna, and The Sun... so like, are we surprised at how big this person's energy is? It feels like you've never experienced someone like this person almost? I'm getting a lot of channeled Songs for this pile, The next one is 11 AM by Incubus. Your person could be depressed. They may be struggling with a lot of difficulty in how to move forward with this connection. They may feel estranged or disconnected at times, I feel like there is a deep wound they are healing. I also keep hearing evil eye, so you may need to be more private about your relationship or this friendship. This connection is very special, and people don't always understand it. I think there is at times judgement from others regarding this connection and it makes them feel pessimistic and isolated.

Don't be afraid to communicate with your person, I feel like they really care a lot for you. I keep feeling a weird feeling in my stomach, it could feel like the prospect of love is scary for one or both of you. Connection could be something that feels very dissonant at times to someone? It's important for you guys to not dwell in the past, to move forward with great passion and vigor is the best thing you can do. I think this pile needs to do some cleansing and hex removal, you'd possibly benefit from revisiting some of your old notes for some of you? Something in a notepad, or on a computer. Notes of some kind. Something about clues? that's so specific lol. Channeled Songs: I wanna be Evil - Eartha Kitt, Dirty Woman - Pink Floyd. Placements: Aries (Sun, moon, Mars, Neptune, Venus), 12h Mars, Mercury conjunct Jupiter Channeled messages: Past life energy, "keeper of keys", I heard "master of none" as well, catch me if you can, count your blessings, "I can't wait to meet you", FNAF?, LMAO tell me why I just channeled master builder (I need to rewatch the lego movie soon fr),

[miraclewoozi]

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. 

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader.  content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.  content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song. 

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong. 

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.” 

He was right. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all. 

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say. 

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position. 

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air. 

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done. 

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal. 

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present. 

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you. 

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember. 

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.  

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter. 

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again. 

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary. 

The urge to just… lean in to you. 

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees. 

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again. 

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly. 

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop. 

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday. 

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare. 

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once. 

He swears. 

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure. 

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting. 

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway. 

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t. 

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances. 

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise. 

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that. 

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come. 

Eight seconds later… still nothing. 

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light. 

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug. 

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again. 

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?” 

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue. 

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before. 

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip. 

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter. 

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh. 

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair. 

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop. 

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders. 

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help. 

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place. 

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head. 

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in. 

I love them. Thank you, you said. 

It’s perfect. 

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double. 

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead. 

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue. 

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose. 

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late. 

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to. 

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are. 

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob. 

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum. 

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him. 

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen. 

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door. 

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important. 

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair. 

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath. 

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright. 

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened. 

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head. 

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop. 

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together. 

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said. 

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love. 

With someone who wasn’t him. 

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt.  And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before. 

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder. 

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it. 

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush. 

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head. 

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth. 

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you. 

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too. 

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure. 

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together. 

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try. 

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could. 

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down. 

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better. 

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same. 

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved. 

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person. 

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say. 

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here. 

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no. 

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline. 

Not enough, but some. 

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin. 

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky. 

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour. 

2.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough. 

1.

Happy New Year. 

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes. 

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you. 

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow… 

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there. 

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you. 

You could do it, his brain tells him. 

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter? 

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside. 

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said. 

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in. 

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule. 

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all. 

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday. 

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you. 

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change. 

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant. 

The pouting continued. 

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table. 

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right? 

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling. 

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together. 

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features. 

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road. 

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess, 

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks. 

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer. 

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks. 

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick. 

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone. 

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own. 

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block. 

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths. 

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too. 

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again. 

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Firsts VII

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: Your first date

Talia is wrapped up warm in a coat, hat and scarf. She's shivering slightly as you approach, breathing air into her hands and rubbing them together.

She's just as beautiful as she was on the pitch a few days ago. She spots you heading over and grins, a bolt of lightning travelling down your spine when you finally compute that she's smiling at you and not just the scenery.

"Hi," You say, feeling a little breathless.

Her hand takes yours automatically, lacing your warm gloved fingers with her own freezing ones. Her cold lips press against your cheek in greeting and you feel a blush creep up from your neck.

"Hola," She replies," It is good to see you again."

"You too." You shuffle your feet for a moment. "Do you...Do you want to head in?"

You don't know why she's making your heart go pitter-patter or why you don't want to let go of her hand. You like the way it feels in your own but you have to let her go to claim a table while you buy drinks.

This is your favourite café in the city.

It's been open for a very long time, all the way back to when you were little and coming to Denmark camp with your Momma. You get your usual and then an extremely milky latte for Natalia.

She seems like the type though you gnaw on the inside of your cheek nervously as you bring it over.

You should have asked before she sat down.

"A latte," She says, brows lifting to her hairline and suddenly there's a sinking feeling in your stomach before she speaks again," I love lattes."

You breath out all of your air in relief and settle in your seat.

You hand lies palm up on the table and Talia's hand moves to cover it.

The pitter-patter of your heart picks up and a blush spreads across your cheeks, though you can blame that on the cold weather and not the odd feeling in your chest that you get whenever you look into Talia's eyes.

"They're touching," Magda hisses from across the café, a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes and a red bobble hat hiding her hair.

Pernille sighs, blowing on her own mug of coffee and continuing to scroll through all of the messages her parents have sent. "Well, it is a date."

"It's not a date!" Magda insists," Princesse would have told me if she's going on a date."

Pernille rolls her eyes. "She doesn't even know it's a date. She doesn't even know she's got a crush."

"She's not got a crush! Especially on some-some..."

"Spanish youth star?"

"Some cocky Spanish girl that looks like she eats girls like Princesse for breakfast!"

Pernille holds her tongue, unwilling to set Magda off with the crude joke that's waiting to be let out. She loses that battle though, muttering to herself," Well she certainly wants to eat Princesse one way or another."

Unfortunately, Magda hears her. "Don't say that! She's a baby! Sex isn't even on her radius!"

"Magda, she's a teenager. I don't know about you but the only thing on my mind apart from football was sex."

"La-La-La! I can't hear you!"

You can't hear Pernille either, focused solely on the way Talia hasn't let go of your hand.

You're blinded by her smile, by the way her eyes sparkle and the way she gets excited when she talks about the prank she pulled on her cousin.

"Do you have cousins?"

You wince. "A few but...we're not close."

Talia's brow furrows. "How come?"

"I don't see them a lot and I saw them a lot less when we were younger."

She nods along. "I guess it's different with me and Patri. She's so much older than us that I guess it was easier to play around with her."

"She sounds nice."

Talia grins at you, all mischief and confidence. "Don't let her hear you say that. She'll get a big head."

You laugh with Talia and almost choke on your drink when her fingers gently stroke along your knuckles.

Her hands are less rough than yours. She's never had to wear keeper gloves or catch balls like you have so you suppose that's the reason why.

Her hands are softer than yours, her touch featherlight as the pads of her fingers graze along your knuckles.

"You come here all the time then?" She asks and you draw your eyes away from your joined hands to her eyes again.

"Every time we come to Denmark," You reply.

"That's right. You play in Sweden, don't you?"

You nod.

"I've seen a few of your matches. You're very good."

Your cheeks grow warmer and warmer and you offer up a weak," I'll have to start watching yours now that I know you've seen mine."

"I'd like that. My next goal for the team, I'll dedicate it to you."

Talia has the awful ability to turn you into a pile of mush with just one sentence. You don't understand how or why she has this kind of effect on you.

You're pretty sure you like it though.

You like the warm feeling in your tummy and the pitter-patter in your chest and the blush on your cheeks.

You like the way you feel when Talia looks at you.

You melt into conversation with her like you've known each other for years. You walk her back to her hotel and nearly pass out when she presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

"I'll text you," She says.

"I'd like that."

"Don't say that," She teases, already jogging off," You'll never get rid of me!"

As she runs back inside, you smile. "I don't think I'd mind that."

You stand there for a little while, smiling like an idiot the entire time.

"You know," You say over your shoulder where you know your Morsa is trying hard to hide behind a tree and your Momma is casually sitting on a bench," You guys aren't very sneaky. I saw you sitting inside the moment we walked in."

Magda comes out from behind the tree. "I was just making sure you were safe on your date!"

You frown. "I wasn't on a date. It was just two friends hanging out."

Pernille smiles indulgently at you. "If that's what you think."

[certifiedbueckethead]

Study Break ✧.*

paige bueckers x college student! reader

warnings: making out, public sex (very much so), fingering, throat fucking,

word count: 1.6k

a/n: honestly one of my shorter ffs but it is what it is lol, also this is just a song rec but it’s also kind of similar to the plot I guess. It’s one of my favs

You stare out of the library’s window, tapping your pen to the table. Summer school just brings another level of boredom, you are dying to go outside and lay in the grass with your friends. It was golden hour, and everything just looked prettier outside. “Y/n, I brought you your iced coffee.”, your best friend Clara had said to you, snapping you out of your daze.

You are both studying for the first session of summer school finals, and have been taking turns bringing each other drinks. Whether it was red bull, coffee, monster or highly caffeinated tea, you both were locking in this entire week. Sure, your digestive systems were suffering the consequences, you just needed to finish off this session strong. You sip your coffee and flip through your digital flashcards when you were interrupted.

“Hey, uh the library is super packed here and you both have an extra two seats at your table, is it chill if we sit here?”, said an extremely tall blonde woman stood in front of you. She was wearing a white crop top and some cargo pants with her iPad in hand, and standing behind her was another girl you didn’t know. They looked familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“No, yeah of course you can sit, we don’t mind.”, Clara said, because you just were staring up at the girl who had asked you. You couldn’t help it, you felt drawn to her pretty blue eyes. You nod aggressively, now embarrassed at the fact that your friend had to answer for you. “Yeah-, yeah of course, I’m sorry.”, you start, motioning to the empty energy drinks in front of you. “My mind is definitely somewhere else today, sorry about that.”, you continue to defend yourself.

“Nah, you’re good ma don’t worry about it. Thanks.”, is all the blonde says to you. You couldn’t help but to sneak a few glances at her. You felt your phone buzz, and you check it.

**Clara Bear**

are you gonna study for organic chem or are you going to continue to stare at Paige Bueckers?

I get it’s pride month, but its also FINALS?

That’s when you realized, they were basketball players at your school. You internally face palm, Paige must think you’re just another one of her fans. You look up at her, and catch her eyes this time.

“So, girl who keeps looking over at me. What’s your name?”, Paige says, keeping her voice low and pushing her chair closer to you, since you are in the library. “Ah, it’s Y/n.”, you say, avoiding her gaze. “Does Y/n know my name perhaps?”, she says, closing your laptop - trying to get your full attention. “Mhm, it’s Paige, you play basketball don’t you?”, you say back, trying not to seem like a fan. It’s not like you were, you didn’t even know her until Clara texted you, you’ve seen her in ads and stuff at your university but nothing like being her fan.

“So uh, me and Y/n will be back. Study break things.”, Paige says, back to her friend and Clara. Clara gives you a look, one that says “don’t get into any trouble” before blowing you a kiss. You scrunch your face and flip her off, giggling. Your best friend knows you too much.

After following Paige out of the library and onto a hill in the field outside, you are finally able to breathe. The air has gotten crisp since the sun is going down, and you take a picture of the sky to capture the moment. Paige is quiet, also enjoying the fresh air. Before you know it, Paige pulls you onto the ground with her and the two of you roll down the hill together. It was calming almost, to have such a release, you felt all the stress that has built up these past few weeks from school leave your body as you laugh along with Paige. When you reach the bottom of the hill, you were laying in the grass, inches away from her face.

Paige’s blue eyes looked back into yours, before looking down at your lips and back to your eyes. Your breathing shortens, you’ve never even been this close to a girl before. Yes, you know you’re as gay as it comes but doesn’t mean you have had any experience. You spent all your time either studying or with your best friend, too scared to venture into the world of dating more or less kissing pretty girls you’ve just met. But you give in, give into the space between the two of you and your heart is beating out of your chest as Paige connects her lips with yours. The sky is a deep pink and purple colour as the sun sets, and Paige snakes her arm around your waist, under your shirt. You find it difficult to stop, to remove your lips from hers. She pulls away, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips together still. She doesn’t stop smiling at you and move, straddling her whilst she is still laying down in the grass and kiss her again. Between kisses, you ask, “this okay?”, and Paige reaches up and holds the side of your face, pulling you as close to her as she can.

Before you know it, Paige is holding your hand and dragging you back into the library, but into the top floor, the farthest set of bookshelves from the door. She pushes you against the bookshelf and begins to kiss your neck. Her hand glides under your shirt, against your stomach and soon finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it easily. Like she’s done it a million of times. Her lips don’t leave your collarbones and Paige lifts your up onto the ledge in front of the window. Your back presses against the glass and your legs wrap around her torso, pulling her close into you. From the smell of her perfume and the taste of her sweet sweet lip gloss, you can’t help but take everything in. Paige undoes her ponytail, letting her hair fall down onto her shoulders and looks down at you. “You haven’t had much to say ma, is this alright with you?”, she asks you, gently. You nod, knowing that whatever is about to happen is what you want. Looking up at her, you bring your hand to the back of her neck and she kisses you with as much desperation as you have. She separates you, only for a moment to replace her lips that were against with yours with two of her fingers.

You suck against them, the two long digits she has in your mouth, looking into her eyes. You can’t help but bring your hand down and rub your clit through your shorts. You moan against her fingers and she uses her free hand to move your hand that’s pleasing yourself and brings you down from the ledge to replace it with her knee. She starts to fuck your throat with her fingers and you are impatiently rubbing yourself against her knee. You close your eyes, to take in all the pleasure you are feeling when Paige whispers into your ear, “I’m going to need you to look at me sweetheart.”, and your eyes meet hers and you almost finish at the sight. She is looking at you like you’re worth risking everything to be caught in the library. She holds your waist with her free hand to stop you and you let out a loud whine and you are quick to cover your mouth. You didn’t even know you could make such noises and you start to feel the anxiety of getting caught. But somehow, it was making you even more needy and you didn’t want to stop. Paige slides her two wet fingers into your shorts, pushing aside your underwear and rubbing your clit gently. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed by how soaked your underwear was. You wrap your arms around the back of her neck and rest your head on her shoulder, moaning quietly as she takes her time to please you. “Paige please…”, is all you can say before she slides both fingers into your drenched cunt.

“You’re such a good slut for me, taking two of my fingers ma…. can you take three?”, she asks, her voice quiet enough for just you to hear. You moan in response, but that’s not good enough for Paige. “Use your words, or I will have to stop.”, she tells you.

“Please, I can take one more just put it in please.”, you say, trying your best to be clear and not make any other lewd sounds.

Paige slides a third finger into you and you rock your hips against her hand that’s place on her knee, so you could feel her fingers go deeper into you. Struggling to keep quiet, you suck on Paiges neck and you feel yourself get closer. You pill your lips away from the blondes neck, not mentioning how deep red the pretty bruise you left on her neck were. “Paige please.”, is all you say before giving her a look. “You can finish whenever you’d like sweetheart.”, she tells you and you move your hips faster as Paige shoves her fingers into you deeper and suddenly your gasping out for air as you cum all over her fingers and knee.

You take a few seconds to catch your breath and Paige sucks on her fingers quietly.

“You taste so good, we are definitely going to have to do this again sometime soon please.”, Paige tells you, and you look up at her and before you know it you’re reaching for her chin and kissing her.

“I’d like that.”, is all you say before standing up. You end up going to the bathroom to clean up the mess you made on Paige’s pants though she insisted she could do it herself.

Maybe this could be more than just a study distraction. Maybe she could be something more.

[macfrog]

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

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[indigovigilance]

Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley

Acknowledging that what we know so far about the Book of Life from various characters is highly suspect, I'm going to posit to you that Beelzebub is actually the true authority on the Book of Life, and that they bookend Season 2 with very important (and hopefully accurate) information about the Book of Life. With that in mind, let's take Beezlebub's S2E1 description and see how it fits with other canon evidence:

But what does it mean to have never existed in the Good Omens universe? For that, let us look to Satan.

From in-show canon, we know that Adam was able to retroactively change Satan's status as his father to not his father:

Adam altered reality, although Crowley, Aziraphale, the other celestials, and even Adam himself remember those events from a timeline that supposedly has been erased:

But Crowley nonetheless confirms that this is reality now. Satan was never Adam's father.

Additionally, though not technically in-show canon, we know from Notorious NRG that once Satan became Lucifer, this erased Lucifer from existence in the GO universe:

And Crowley's monologue in the bar drives it home; even though Lucifer no longer exists, Crowley still remembers him, and some key events that they were involved in together.

But a more dramatic portrayal of erasure is found in our favorite Good Omens himbo, Jimbo. In the trial of Gabriel, the Metatron makes direct allusion to the fact that Gabriel will no longer be Gabriel after his demotion:

Not "your memory of your time as the supreme archangel will be erased," no, it's:

Your memory of your time as Gabriel will be erased.

Whether he means to or not, Aziraphale reinforces this characterization of memory-loss-as-new-identity:

This can be taken simply as a safety measure, but Jimbo doesn't understand it that way and we see throughout the remainder of the season that Aziraphale is very consistent about calling his unexpected guest "Jim," even correcting Crowley when they're speaking privately and it wouldn't blow his cover to call him Gabriel:

But the final word on memory and identity, especially as they pertain to Jimbriel, again comes from our Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub:

All your you is your memories.

Altogether we see that there is significant in-show canon to support a theory that memory is inextricably linked with identity, and that when memory is removed, identity is so drastically changed that the name of the entity must also change... and the person who existed before, with that former name, exists no longer; it is as if they never had.

(But, as we see in the case of Gabriel, they can be restored.)

I told you in the title that this post was about the Book of Life: it is. Everything discussed here about memory and identity must necessarily characterize how the Book of Life operates, at least with respect to erasure. When someone is erased, they don't vanish, but they are so changed it is as if a new person has taken the place of the old, the way Jim took the place of Gabriel, until he got his memories back. But we can surmise that when someone is erased from the Book of Life, their memories aren't conveniently stored in a TARDIS/Ru Paul fly for later recovery. The memories may not be gone, but I'm going to guess that they would be extremely difficult (or impossible) to retrieve.

What this means for Crowley:

I think we need to give this scene a lot more credit for telling us how this universe works. Surface level, it reads as "you don't understand my trauma, and how I've been changed by it." Which is a very valid interpretation. But we can dig deeper and see that, given everything else we know about celestial beings losing their memories, names, and identities, Crowley is alluding to something far more horrific than just the scars left by flaming swords and halo-grenades.

These are the scars of a lobotomy. Something was taken from him, and he is aware of it.

He knows that his memory has been tampered with. Various people (Furfur, Saraqael) tell him that they recognize him, and of things they've done together. He has no recollection of them, but instead of getting agitated, he brushes it off and ignores it. This lack of questions from the guy who questions everything tells us that he already has the answers; not the memories, but the knowledge of why he doesn't have them.

Furthermore, when he's trying to get Jim to remember the something bad and Jim says it hurts, Crowley says:

I know. Do it anyway.

How does Crowley know that it hurts, to try to recall memories that have been taken out of your head?

Because he's been through it.

He has tried to remember, and some memories, like working on the Horsehead Nebula with Saraqael or monkeying around with Furfur, weren't worth the pain. Or perhaps it was pain on top of pain to remember what he had lost.

It is an especial testament to the cruelty of Heaven that he remembers going into battle, but not the bonds he formed with his friends. He remembers a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur, but not the work he did on the Horsehead Nebula, a thing that brought him joy.

And now, the person he loves most in the world, his only refuge from the terror of his empty nightmares, from his malignant and creeping sense of unease that something is missing, has gone back to that place where his identity was so horribly violated that he lost his name.

How will our hero cope?

If you liked this meta, you will almost certainly like my meta on Continuity Errors.

For my thoughts on who Crowley may have been before the fall, go here.

For my thoughts on how this pertains to Metatron, go here.

As I continue to produce metas related to this theory, you'll be able to find them all here.

[ghostofdiamonds]

alright having watched the first half of dungeon meshi here are my impressions of the main cast + a couple other funky little guys.

overall: they literally seem like an actual dnd party from a campaign. my headcanon is that when falin died, the dm asked her player if they wanted to make a new character and the player created senshi.

laios: himbo. BIG himbo. I love him. I know he was concerned for his sister but it sometimes felt like he was more excited about eating monsters than saving his sister. I don't even think Falin would blame him she seemed pretty excited too when she found out they were eating monsters. also not to diagnose people with autism but like. if he's not autistic I have no idea what he is.

marcille: I love this girl. she's gay as fuck and I love her. she was least open to eating monsters but by the time they reach Falin she's acclimated to it. she does magic by the book yet she specializes in forbidden magic. her main combat spell is blowing things up. she's an icon.

chilchuck: this is a man who knows what he's about. middle aged man in a union who got paid upfront. you think marcille is the normal one but I'm pretty sure it's actually chilchuck. AND YET he grew to care about the party and will go back down to the dungeon with them.

senshi: SOMEONE GET THIS MAN A COOKING SHOW STAT. imagine that you study a super niche thing for years and one day you're minding your own business and you hear someone say "aw man we're all out of options guess we've gotta do *very niche thing you specialize in*. That was Senshi. he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment. I just KNOW he was having the time of his fucking life down in the dungeon with them. he's living his best life with people who appreciate his cooking and I love that for him.

falin: absolute sweetheart. deserves better in every way. can the universe give this girl a fucking BREAK and also a girlfriend (*cough cough marcille*). she seems normal at first glance but I feel like she's just as crazy as her brother.

kabru: MY BOY. loved his design ever since I saw him in the opening. he and his party are so bad at staying alive oh my god. I can't wait to see more of him.

namari: okay I didn't like her for abandoning Falin but I get it money is tight. if nothing else I respect her for apparently (according to my friend) being bisexual and crushing on the twins she works with.

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 7

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

.............................................................................................

Wednesday morning started off on a foul note for Jude. The team landed after a red eye flight & below is what he saw at 6:30 am. 

Ananya: Heyy. Listen, I am so sorry but I can’t make it tonight. NY office just got back and we have tons more to do. All hands on deck. Will be MIA most of today & tmrw. Hope you put something on your bruises. Take care & see ya soon! 

He groaned in frustration. Yesterday had been horrible & he was really looking forward to seeing her tonight. It was his primary motivation to get through the day. But the universe seemed to be conspiring against him.

He stayed in a pissy mood for a bit but sanity prevailed some time later. 

Jude: Heyy, it’s fine. Work is work. Go kick some ass. Lemme know if you get done soon ya?

His message remained unseen till 10:30 pm. She hadn’t come online. He knew, since he had checked more than a few times.

He was about to crash when his phone buzzed.

Ananya: Still in office. Will be a long night. How was your day?

He perked up immediately & grabbed his phone. 

Jude: Talk for a few mins?

Ananya: In conference room with folks, can’t step out.

Deflated, he fell back on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. All he needed was some attention from her tonight. For her to fuss over him like she had done yesterday. But alas. 

Jude: Day was ok I guess. Debriefed on the game, lads were being extra nice which was irritating but had a good chat with Boss. How was yours?

Ananya: Hectic, but this deal is so cool it’s blowing my mind.

Jude smiled for the first time today. Her ambition & drive was relatable. Admirable. And so so attractive. 

Ananya: Ok gotta go now. Ciao.

And just like that, his smile faded. 

Jude: Ciao. Eat something. C ya soon!

He twisted & turned in bed a few times. Finally, exhaustion took over and he drifted off to sleep.

Next day was worse, if that was even possible.

He again woke up irritated. The UK tabloids were going to run a trashy story about him & some girl. His team had been contacted for comments & the decision was to not entertain them at all. The story could drop any time now - that was the heads-up he had gotten.

Great, just what he needed.

The message that he wanted to see was not there. Not a single peep from Ananya. He scrolled through the previous messages, re-reading some. And then he froze.

She was going to see the article too. 

Such gossip pieces on him were not uncommon but he mostly ignored them earlier. As did his team. 

But this time, it was different. Because of her. 

He had to get ahead of the situation.

Jude: Morning dove. I know you are busy. Quick heads up - you may see a tabloid piece today about my ‘girlfriend’. It’s all bull ok? I will explain when we talk. 

Burying himself with work seemed like the best solution today. He went extra hard in the gym, pushing himself more, & then some. Letting his irritation be sucked out through sweat and sore muscles.

He was extra feisty in training, didn’t joke around & was super competitive in duels, earning all the applause of the coaching staff and some jeers from his teammates.

Cama and Vini teased him about his new girlfriend who he was apparently smitten by - the article was splashed all over social media by now. He evaded them after engaging in some superficial locker room banter.

Still no reply from her, even though she had seen the first message. 

Jude: (Link) - This is what I was referring to. Like I said, it’s bull. How’s your day going?

When the messages were still unread after 2 hours, he started getting jittery. And did something he wouldn’t have done had he been thinking with a clear head.

He called her, knowing fully well she was dying at work today.

The number was unreachable. He tried again. Same message.

The jitters got stronger. Of the zillion things he was capable of doing to mess this up, this shouldn’t have been it.

It was one of those moments when the house looked emptier. Felt lonelier. He missed his home in Birmingham. He wished his mom were here with him.

She had called him earlier today to check on him, & could tell something was off in his voice. She didn’t push, knowing that he wanted to be left to his own devices.

Boy, he could do with her hug right now.

It was 8:30 pm. He had done everything he could for the day. There was nothing else to busy himself with. His friends from the team were all otherwise occupied tonight. He had no other real, normal friends in the city - ones he trusted/liked enough to hang out with. 

He didn’t wanna talk to his Birmingham friends either - didn’t wanna bring up the article or the match. Wanted to block those out. Jobe was busy with his training too. 

So he gulped his dinner while watching some random episodes of The Great British Bake Off. Something that used to be a family ritual back home.

Still no word from her. It was 10 pm.

It wasn’t fair. He hated feeling this restless. That’s why he stayed away from the complications of attachments - too much fucking drama that he absolutely didn’t need in his life right now. As if the pressures on him weren’t enough already.

His treacherous messed up self didn’t comply with his brain though.

Jude: Don’t overthink this. Talk to me once.

10:30 pm. Still nothing. 

He was about to get up from his couch & drag himself to bed, when he saw the blue ticks started coming on her chat. She hadn’t blocked him then?

He grabbed his phone & dialled her number, shoving his pride aside. She picked up in two rings.

‘Heyyyy Judeyyy.’

She slurred on the line. Jude was stunned. Was this for real? 

He channelled all his inner calmness - wanting to get the facts first.

‘Ananya - are you drunk?’

‘Siiii. We just downed half a bottle of tequila in three sixty minutes. No thirty-six. I meant thirty-six mins.’

He took a few deep breaths, as she giggled on the line. 

‘Tell me where you are. I am picking you up.’

‘I am in a moving car - how will you pick me up from a moving car?’

‘What the fuck do you mean you are in a car? Who are you with? And why the fuck are you drinking in a car?’

He lost his patience despite his best efforts.

‘Yikes why the screaming? Hurting my ears Jude. So rude. Heyyy, that rhymed.’

He nearly pulled out a few of his flawlessly trimmed hair in frustration. When he spoke next, he broke up each word like he was talking to a child.

‘One step at a time yeah? Send me your live location.’

She managed to do that after a few failed attempts. Relief flooded over him when he saw she wasn’t too far from her home & on the right route.

‘Good girl. Now, are you alone, or is someone with you?’

‘I am in a limo. A black limo. Like in the movies. Can you believe it?’

‘That’s great. Not what I asked though. Is someone with you, Ananya?’

‘Roma. But she’s passed out. Wait let me see again? Yup - passed out.’

‘Was it such a smart thing to drink so much that you pass out in the back of a car? When you are alone?’

‘Hey, she passed out. Not me. Pls - my capacity is legendary. Ask me the square root of 1576 & I'll tell you.’

He was amused but had to remind himself that he was still mad. 

‘Where were you today?’

Somehow, from her broken sentences, he gathered that the MD of their team lived on the outskirts of Madrid and there was a presentation of the final work at his mansion today. It was his limos that were dropping the team home. And the girls found the tequila in the car & just went for it after the grueling last 48 hours of work.

He also understood that her phone was on airplane mode most of the day. So she hadn’t seen his messages. Hadn’t seen the article either. 

Suddenly, there was some commotion on the line.

‘Roma is hitting me to talk to you. Putting you on speaker.’

‘Heyyy lover boyyyy - finally.’

This time he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

‘Well hello to you too.’

‘You should know that you owe me. I convinced Ananya to go to the match. And, most importantly, I convinced her to GO WITH YOU after the match.’

‘Oh, I thought she came because of me. How sad.’

‘A little coz of you. But mostly it was me.’

‘I see. Then I definitely owe you one, Roma.’

‘Remember that when I ask for signed jerseys of the WHOLE TEAM. And Zidane. And of course our one true love Ronaldo.’

‘Ahh you too.’

‘Of course, we share a common love. But Ananya loves him more.’

‘Believe me, I know.’

The car swerved to their street soon after, stopping outside their apartment building.

‘Girls, focus now, ya? - watch your step, go inside, lock the door. Ananya - call me after. I am waiting.’

‘Sir yes sir.’

‘Byeee lover boyyyyy.’

Jude groaned as they hung up - staring at the phone for it to ring again. Praying that they don’t trip & fall on their assess. 

The wait was excruciating. He got to his room, changed into his sleeping shorts, paced around, still nothing. How fuckin irresponsible. Finally, after 13 long mins, she called.

‘What took you so long?’

‘Code wasn’t working. Had to call neighbors to buzz us in.’

‘Wasn’t working or you forgot it?’

‘Pretty sure it wasn’t working.’

He shook his head & let it go, understanding how it was a lost cause. 

Then he started blurting out some instructions to her like ‘re-check the door’, ‘grab some water’, ‘tell me you ate something before drinking’ etc.

Ananya followed them diligently, and the slurring reduced as the liqueur settled down. Still quite out of it, but he could hear the girl he knew in there.

Knowing she was safe now, his mood improved, and her antics even started looking cute. 

‘Facetime?’

It felt like forever since he had seen her last. Held her last. 

When he finally laid eyes on her, all his frustration & anxiety of last two days started to evaporate.

‘Hey you.’

She waved back happily, snuggled into her pillow, still in her work clothes. All dopey from the alcohol. 

‘If I fall asleep on you tonight, don’t take it personally. Haven’t slept in 2 days.’

‘But you kicked ass though didn’t ya? 

Her face brightened, despite the exhaustion.

‘Kinda did.’

‘Knew it. Proud of ya.’

He really was. She could tell. She was starting to learn how to read his bright, expressive, goofy eyes. Tonight, they were deep & sincere. And a little anxious.

‘How’s your mood now?’

20 minutes ago he would have had a very different answer. 

‘Now? All fine, dove.’

She was about to tease him, call him cheesy & sickly sweet but he doubled down with his big brown doe eyes.

‘Missed you.’

Again, the sincerity hit her square in her heart. Throwing her off guard. He seemed different tonight. Vulnerable. The trademark blend of cocky flair & casual nonchalance not at the forefront. 

‘Missed you too.’

She sighed, as her eyes fluttered shut. Not that she had had much time for any active thought the last few days. But seeing him like this just reminded her how much she was looking forward to meeting him last night.

As she gathered herself, he took in her surroundings. The baby pink pillows amused him the most; somehow he hadn’t associated that with her. 

‘Can’t believe this is how I get to see your bedroom. On FaceTime.’

He didn't realize he had said it out loud. She giggled at his groans, batting her eyelashes at him. The vixen.

‘Yeah? What else did you have in mind?’

Jude shifted uncomfortably in the sheets. 

‘Don’t tease. Not tonight.’

‘When’s a good time, then?’

‘When I am in touching distance of you, tease away, by all means.’

‘I am not stupid, Jude.’

‘Never thought you were, dove.’

Challenging each other was kind of becoming their thing. Neither liked backing down & both loved the dynamic.

But she was tired. Ready to drop dead anytime.

‘Gimme 2. Need to change out of these.’

‘Cool, I’ll stay here.’

She placed the phone on the bed. Then, on second thoughts, she covered the phone with her blanket. Suddenly, his screen was filled with baby pandas.

‘Seriously? I was facing the ceiling, what was I gonna see?’

‘Don’t trust you & your peripheral vision.’

Jude groaned audibly, facing the disorienting pandas, starting to seriously dislike the otherwise adorable creatures.

He could hear her bouncing around her room, humming something in a foreign tongue, heels clicking on the floor. Still quite buzzed, clearly.

And then, a loud thump.

‘What happened? You ok?’

‘Zipper got stuck in heels. Knocked over a carton. Am fine.’

Jude turned & buried his face in the pillow, trying very hard to drown out the thoughts of what she was doing right now.

He couldn’t afford to let himself wander, since they hadn’t yet discussed the matter at hand.

But it was hard, he nearly bit the pillow to rein himself in. 

That’s how she found him when she returned in her tank top. The same one she had on that night, when he kissed her. Great.

‘What’s with you?’

She eyed him curiously, and he recovered quickly, game face back on.

‘Need to talk about something.’

‘Go on.’

Something had shifted in the environment. In him. Putting her on the edge.

Ripping off the band-aid quickly seemed like the best strategy to him.

‘A tabloid piece came out today about me & a girl, saying she is my girlfriend and we have been dating for 2 months. Which is not true. Never dated her. No idea how they came up with this. Wanted to give you a heads-up. Sent you the link in chat earlier today.’

He got it all out quickly. Then zeroed in on her face to gauge her reaction.

Her face had hardened like she was preparing for something unpleasant. Expressions too neutral, too blank for his liking. Almost cold. A more agitated reaction would have been less unsettling.

Ananya had a feeling it was something like this. The shield was up. Plus she was too spent to give any kind of outward reaction. 

She replayed his words in her head, and read through the article, while he waited patiently.

Her insta feed was also full of this now. This was everywhere. She found the ID of the woman and clicked on her profile.

‘She is pretty.’

This was not the first thing he had expected to hear. But he had the good sense to know that no response was the best response. Both confirmation and denial would have been scoffed at. 

‘You say you didn’t date her, but you do know her, right? Didn’t hear you deny that.’

Her tone was matter-of-fact, business-like. As if she was slicing & dicing a work project.

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘Met her through insta. Liked some pics of each other. Chatted on DM. Then, met in person. Once.’

‘When?’

‘Two months ago.’

So the article had gotten at least something right.

‘Slept with her?’

Both were surprised by her cutting to the chase like this. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions significantly plus she wasn't in the mood to entertain any nonsense.

‘Yes.’

‘Why only once?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Why not again? She is pretty.’

‘Umm…she is not from here.’

That wasn’t a good answer, he knew it the moment he said it. It wasn’t the complete truth either. But the damage was done.

‘Any exchanges after?’

‘Not from me.’

The unsaid hung heavily in the air. She chose to not address it. 

Mindlessly, she kept scrolling through the girl’s profile and the details in the article, not wanting to say anything more immediately. Not wanting to look at him, while his eyes were glued to her face throughout. 

Eventually, he couldn’t handle the silence & spoke softly.

‘Remember, this was in the past. Nothing has happened since we met. Nothing will happen.’

The deep baritone was back, trying to lull her into a sense of security. 

She smiled wryly. If only it were that simple to believe. If only her mind was not filled with images of him frolicking at his home with this woman, as was so definitively stated in the article. 

He felt the chasm widening between them, pulling her further away.

Some core truths, albeit crude, needed to be said out loud now. 

‘Ananya - I’ve never lied to you. Never not answered anything you threw my way. Never painted a false picture of my lifestyle. We’ve discussed these encounters before. Yes this put a face to it & I get it’s hard. But that doesn’t change the fact that I was single, and both consenting adults always knew it was just sex, nothing more.’

Her eyes shot up at him at the last line, which he was expecting. But he stood his ground.

‘I can see you are judging me hard, and them too. Look…’

She cut him off sharply.

‘THEM? Who are they to me? Why should I judge women I don’t know anything about?’

‘And me?’

‘YOU? I am TRYING to understand you. Your DECISIONS. It is NOT EASY. Not something I ever imagined dealing with.’

‘I get it.’

He really did. She didn’t hear what he said though, still stuck on his previous words.

‘And THEM? Seriously how many are there? How many such GIRLFRIENDS should I be prepared for?’

He blanked & panicked simultaneously. How was he supposed to answer that? Thankfully, she intervened.

‘You know what? Scratch that. Don’t answer that, I don’t ever wanna know. I don’t care.’

She jerked her face away, trying to compose herself.

But he couldn’t stop staring at her. The usually calm, jovial features a picture of irritation & exhaustion right now. The need to hold her close & comfort her paralyzed him.

‘Can we do this in person? I can be there in 20-25 mins.’

‘NO.’

It was a firm, decisive no. Leaving no scope for discussion. He figured it was also her showing him he wasn’t just gonna get his way with her, that she wasn’t like the others. 

But he knew that already. That’s what had fascinated him so about her. She was unlike anyone he had been with before. How he wished she could see that too.

For the first time, the silence between them was not comfortable. Or comforting. 

The silence was interrupted by constant pings on her phone - two calls followed by a few messages. He saw her eyes go wide as she focused on the screen.

It was 12 am. Jude had a sinking feeling who it could be from. Last two days, he had really behaved himself. Despite knowing she would have spent every waking minute at work around that insufferable colleague of hers. Sticking to her like a leech. Pinging her at odd times. 

But, in a grand display of restraint, Jude hadn't uttered a word to her. It was her work after all. 

‘Jude I’m gonna need two mins.’

She muttered urgently, getting up from the bed.

‘I will stay online if that’s ok.’

‘Fine.’

She was already out the door, leaving the phone, leaving him behind.

Jude found himself facing the ceiling of her room again. Seriously, what the fuck just happened? Could this day get any more rotten?

She returned in a minute. He could hear her but not see her yet. Bile rose in his throat when he realised who she was talking to.

‘Hey Arjun, yes I found it. It’s with me now. Thank you so much for letting me know, this could have gone anywhere. You are a lifesaver.’

A pause for a few seconds, in which Jude plotted getting that cockroach permanently banned from the Bernabeu (Ananya had mentioned how big a fan he was), and then her voice again. Filled with genuine gratitude. Jude wanted to puke. 

‘Yeah all good, thanks again. Good night, see you tmrw.’

If her intent was to hurt Jude, then someone should hand her the Balon d’or immediately.

Ananya hung up, came back to the bed, and realized her phone was not on mute. She couldn’t find it in herself to care though, not right now.

‘All ok?’

Jude would have put monks to shame at the evenness he was able to muster in his voice.

‘Roma was drunk-texting on our work group. Some questionable stuff. Hv deleted the texts, will keep her phone tonight. Glad Arjun alerted me.’

And just like that, evenness went out the window. Replaced with sarcasm, laced with disdain.

‘How sweet of him, what a gentleman.’

Ananya turned the full force of her glare at Jude, which he met head on. Fire dancing in both their eyes. 

‘Would you GROW UP? Not everything is about you. And yes, he IS a gentleman. Your petulance will not change that.’

‘A FUCKIN TWAT is what he is. Always interrupting us. Always trying to cozy up to you. Even when he doesn’t have a shot. Classic small-dick energy. Quite fuckin LITERALLY in his case.’

Ananya could punch him through the screen. The insufferable, entitled, derisive prick that he was being. So full of himself. He needed to be put in his place. 

‘Yeah? Maybe I should verify that.’

The bodyblow landed as intended. Making him double over with pain.

Jude felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and in the nuts at the same time. His throat went dry and his hands turned clammy.

The numbness hitting his brain, then his body. The rage dissipated & he realised he didn’t have a leg to stand on, given how they had gotten here tonight.

Plus she would never do the thing she hates the most. She would never cheat, he was convinced.

His tone went down several notches, as did his attitude.

‘I know you are angry. I know you didn’t mean it.’

‘Oh no - I really do want..’

‘ANANYA PLEASE. Please. Slap me if you want to, smack me all that you like but NOT THIS. Please.’

The distress in his choked voice made her stop. Knocking the fight out of her. 

Her voice lost its edge, coming out in a whisper.

‘A hypothetical scenario broke you. Whereas….you…..you have actually..’

She didn’t finish the sentence. But the message was well understood.

‘I know it’s unfair. Even hypocritical of me. But I can’t help it. Can’t handle even the idea of you with anyone else. I want all of you. All for me. All the time. I’d go nuts otherwise I swear.’

This moment, she saw a young, sensitive, insecure boy in Jude, not the mature, articulate, sorted, in-control grown man known to the world. 

She found it strangely healing; a distinct warmth seeping into her skin and settling into the pit of her stomach. 

It was 12:30. Two emotionally charged hours they had spent on the phone. Dead tired from work. Yet, the idea of hanging up & calling it a night never occurred to either. 

Just then, her doorbell rang, making her jump.

‘Don’t be alarmed. Answer it.’

She eyed him curiously, checking his background again. He was still in his bed. 

‘What did you do now?’

‘Answer the door & you’ll see.’

Huffing, she got out of bed & walked out. Leaving him facing the ceiling again. Third time that night.

When she came back, he finally saw a ghost of a smile on her lips. And the light returned to her gorgeous soft eyes.

She was still gazing at the bouquet, stroking & smelling with contentment.

‘White Tulips for dove. Thought it’d be fitting.’

‘Jude.’

She sighed deeply, and buried her head in the flowers, letting the strong scent drown her senses.

This was never going to be easy, she knew that from the start. But every time she got wobbly, he steadied her. Every time doubts pulled her away, he clawed his way back to her. Lack of effort was definitely not something she could hold against him. 

Maybe he means what he says. Maybe it is different for him this time.

She turned to look at his smiling face, still leaning on the flowers.

‘How did you even find these in the middle of the night?’

‘To be fair I ordered them in the evening, when I thought you blocked me.’

‘Blocked you?’

He just shrugged in response. Slightly embarrassed but trying to not show it.

She laughed at the absurdity of it all, and he finally let go too, letting himself relax. The sound of his little giggles bounced on her ears, doing things to her.

‘You are such a loon.’

‘Wanna be your loon.’

She was starting to melt now and wanted to arrest the fall. So she switched gears.

‘Tell me - what was the plan if I had blocked you?’

There had to be a plan. He wasn’t the kind to take things lying down. 

‘Cheesecake & churros from our cafe tmrw morning. Along with a letter stating how a 20-year-old boy has the same psychological maturity as a 15-year-old girl. Therefore you should cut me some slack given women are far smarter biologically and also coz you are you. I’m not saying it, science is. Facts.’

‘Reallyyyyy? So a 20 yr old boy lacks psychological maturity, but somehow that’s not a problem when he fucks half the world with impunity? What does science say about that? No disadvantage there?’

Jude’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, still trying to process how his attempted humour had backfired in about 50,000 ways.

To his credit, he recovered fast.

‘See? A smart person would not have walked into that hole like I did. Exhibit A of how dumb I am. This just proves my point.’

‘How come the world fawns over your intelligence & maturity then?

‘They don’t know me. It’s a scam. Trent says I should still be in diapers. He said that to Jobe once & the little scoundrel agreed.'

He had done it again. Pacified her without her even realising. Yeah, she wasn’t buying the dumb act. This boy knew his power & used it unabashedly, to his full advantage.

It was 1 am. She yawned while checking the time & Jude suddenly got hit by pangs of guilt.

He would let her go soon, just needed to hear one thing.

‘We ok? 

He barely blinked till she responded.

‘I guess so.’

She shrugged, realising she wasn’t mad anymore.

He figured that’s the best he would get tonight. But soon, when they are together, he’ll make up for this mess.

It was time to let her get some well deserved rest.

Jude leaned in, eyes firmly locked into hers, and kissed his phone screen. He had never done that for another girl before. But this one, she made him do this twice in a span of 2 days.

She followed his movement closely, meeting his gaze. Somehow feeling his lips brush her skin. 

‘End my misery and meet me soon?’

She nodded, and he flashed her a trademark ear-to-ear Jude smile. Crinkling eyes n all. Making her heart leap in her chest. 

‘Now go, get some rest. And since you won’t let me come over, hug the flowers instead when you sleep tonight. You’ll feel me around.’

‘Bye Jude.’

‘Bye dove.’

Goes without saying, she did hug the flowers as she slept that night. 

...............................................................................................

This chapter was very different in my head when I posted the previous one. But then, stuff happened the last few days & I felt like writing about it.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. Hope you are liking the story & these two, lots more to come :)

[daisynik7]

In Between

Pairing: Eren x f!reader x Reiner

Genre: college au, one-shot

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: ~4.5k

cw: threesome, cunnilingus, nipple play, blow job, vaginal sex (doggy), creampie, horny reader (I mean, who isn’t), pet names, use of the term ‘big brother’, but there is no actual incest here I swear and I’m so sorry. This is just filth. 

Summary: Your “big brothers” from Alpha Tau fraternity take care of you for a night. 

Notes: OKAY, so I’ve had this in the back of my mind for a while now. Fun fact for those of you who have read my other series Rush: I originally wanted to make it an Eren x f!reader x Reiner fic but was intimidated about writing a love triangle, so I axed it. Instead, here’s porn with little plot to satisfy this itch. Enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated, I would LOVE to hear what y’all think! 

Additional Notes: This might be the smuttiest one I’ve written so far, idk, you be the judge. As always, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Also, think of this as an alternate universe to Rush, I’m using a lot of details from it, but there is no correlation. Okay, I’m done talking, have fun.

It’s a Sunday night and Sigma Nu Kappa begins their first chapter meeting of the spring semester. Petra Ral, your sorority’s social chair, stands at the podium, a delighted smile on her face. “Good evening, sisters! I have very exciting news: Alpha Tau has agreed to pair with us this semester! This means we’ll be joining them to collaborate on charity events and most importantly, social gatherings.”

There’s a collection of giggles and pleased hums. Mikasa, your big sister and best friend, nudges you. “This should be fun.”

Although the two of you are the same age, Mikasa rushed SNK as a freshman, you joined as a sophomore this past fall. She picked you to be her “little sister” when you were a pledge, adopting you into her family line called The Angels. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable. 

Petra continues. “A neat thing we’ll be doing is combining families! We’ll be assigning each of our family lines to one in Alpha Tau. Consider them your ‘big brothers’. FYI, these were assigned at random.” 

She passes a stack of papers to each row. When you get yours, you try to find which family you’re being paired with. Before you can, Mikasa scoffs. “Of course.”

Next to The Angels is The Warriors. You turn to her with a questioning look. “The Warriors?”

“Guess who?”

You pause to think, then answer, “Eren?”

“Yup. Random my ass,” she jokes. 

Eren is Mikasa’s actual brother, older by a year. You’ve never met him in person, but you’ve heard plenty of stories about him from her. Petra notices her reaction and grins. “Okay, maybe yours is not so random. It just makes sense!” 

“So, what are we supposed to do with our assigned family?”

“It’s just for fun. It’s a nice way to get to know the brothers and build a strong connection with them. They’ll look out for you and take care of you, especially at the parties.” 

Since joining last semester, you haven’t properly bonded with anyone in the other organizations, too busy acclimating to sorority life as a new member. Now, with a bit more exposure to Greek Life, it’s time to build your own relations, make new friends. Maybe even find a boyfriend. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and you find yourself desperate for it. This new partnership with Alpha Tau is a good opportunity to find potential candidates. 

And, with the help of your new big brothers, you might be able to achieve this.  

~~~

The first exchange between Sigma Nu Kappa and Alpha Tau happens on Friday night, inside the fraternity house. The theme for the party is Game Day. Everyone is required to wear a sports jersey of some kind. You and Mikasa come in oversized basketball jerseys paired with black bicycle shorts. When you arrive to the house, it’s packed with your sisters and Alpha Tau brothers. Immediately, your big sis leads you into the kitchen where the drinks are. 

You help yourself to a serving of Jungle Juice, the common frat party concoction. Mikasa, already on her second, mentions, “I texted Eren. He’s finishing a game of beer pong with Reiner, so they should be meeting us soon.”

You chug the rest of your drink, excited to finally meet The Warriors. Several minutes pass, in which you spend time chatting with your sisters and refilling on more Jungle Juice. You turn around once you hear Mikasa yell, “Finally!”

In front of her are two well-built men, one with dark, brown hair wrapped in a stylishly messy man-bun, wearing a sleeveless jersey, showing off his tone arms. The other has a shorter, blonde cut, standing a few inches taller in a football jersey, displaying his broad shoulders. 

“Sorry, the game went longer than expected. Neither of us could sink a shot,” the brunette explains. You assume this is Eren, based on family pics Mikasa has shown you. “So, where’s our new little sis?”

You step towards them, hovering beside Mikasa to introduce yourself. They both smile at you, shaking your hand. “Welcome to the family.”

You exchange small talk, asking the standard questions to break the ice. Reiner, Eren’s big brother in the fraternity, is a senior, scheduled to graduate this spring with his bachelors in psychology. He hopes to eventually become a therapist. Eren is a junior, majoring in education to become an elementary school teacher. You were expecting them to be intimidating and arrogant, the stereotypical frat boys. Lucky for you, they are surprisingly easy to talk to.

In the midst of your conversation, Mikasa checks her phone and announces, “Jean just got here. I’m going to hang out with him for a bit, is that cool?” She seems to be directing it at you, specifically. 

“Don’t worry, Mikasa,” Eren says. “We’ll take care of her. Right, Reiner?” 

He nudges his big brother, who smirks. “Yeah, we’ll take care of her, alright.”

As soon as Mikasa leaves to hang out with her boyfriend, the energy shifts. Maybe it’s your imagination, but there’s a different vibe being alone with your new brothers. They have polite expressions on their faces, but behind it is something…sinister? Wicked? Naughty?

You refill with more liquor, your nerves getting the best of you now that Mikasa is no longer there to protect you. Before you tip the drink into your mouth, Reiner intercepts and covers the lid with his palm, stopping you. “Don’t drink that anymore. All that Jungle Juice will give you a hangover. Let’s take shots instead.”

“Yeah, we got some vodka in the fridge.” Eren opens the door to the refrigerator, reaching in to retrieve a brand-new bottle of Grey Goose. “Big brother here works for the Psych department so he can afford top shelf.”

“Yeah right, like you can’t afford it with daddy’s money,” Reiner retorts. “Did you know his dad is a doctor?”

You nod. “Yeah, Mikasa has mentioned that.”

“I’m not getting a cent after undergrad, though. He’s pretty disappointed that I’d rather be a teacher than take over his practice. At least Zeke’s going to do it.”

“That’s your half-brother?” you ask. Mikasa’s briefing of her adopted family, the Jaeger clan, is coming in handy.

“Yup,” he confirms, pouring the liquor into three cups, poorly estimating a shot’s worth in each.

“Being a teacher is just as important a job as a doctor,” you comment. “Maybe even more, considering the impact you make on the students. It’s a crime how underpaid they are. That’s my opinion.”

He offers you the shot with a small smile, watching you carefully. “What other opinions do you have?”

“Huh?”

“I’m sure you have lots of opinions in that pretty head of yours.” He passes the third cup to Reiner without taking his eyes off you. 

You’re unsure what to make of his comment, so you don’t respond, pretending to be fixated on consuming the shot. The buzz is starting to kick in, cheeks warm, head pleasantly airy, inhibitions loosening the slightest bit. Luckily, you’re being taken care of by your big brothers so that you don’t do anything reckless tonight.

The other two throw back the alcohol easily, Eren quick to refill their cups. He waves the bottle at you. “Want another?”

You refuse. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Can’t hold your liquor?” Reiner asks, moving to stand next you at the counter. 

“I know my limits.” You lean into him, comfy against his large physique. You play with the hem of your jersey, observing the other party goers in the living room, dancing to the music blasting through the speakers. Mikasa and Jean are nowhere to be seen, most likely doing it in his room upstairs. You spot a few of your other sisters dancing alongside the Alpha Tau brothers, having a grand old time.

“Should we dance?” you suggest, hoping they agree. You want to join in on the fun. 

Eren chuckles. “Reiner doesn’t dance.”

He stands up straight, setting his cup down. “That’s not true. I can dance.”

“I didn’t say you can’t dance, I said that you don’t. I have never, ever seen you dance, dude.”

With a mischievous grin, he looks at you and says, “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

In an instant, Reiner is leading you to the living room, Eren following close behind. It’s crowded, the small space not accommodating for the size of this party. The three of you squeeze in the middle, surrounded by other warm bodies, too intoxicated to care about being smushed. Someone shuts the lights off and only a dinky strobe illuminates the room. You start moving to the music, bobbing your head back and forth, swaying your shoulders to the melody of whatever top hit is playing. Eren is in front of you, copying your motions, a lazy smile on his face. Reiner is to your rear, close enough that you feel the fabric of his jersey brush against you. 

Eren leans forward, lips grazing your ear. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He shuffles closer to you, still dancing to the music. 

From behind, Reiner drifts towards you, hands at your waist, his husky voice hot on your other ear. “You look so good dancing like this.”

It’s sweltering now; from the lack of air in the cramped capacity, the alcohol taking its effect, the swing of your hips in tandem with the bass. Or the situation you currently find yourself in, sandwiched by two extremely attractive men, breathing compliments in your ear, exploring your body. They trap you, Eren’s chest basically pressed to yours, your back flat against Reiner. His hands are still at your sides, while Eren reaches for your nape, pulling you in to kiss along your neck. 

You should stop it. That’s what you should do. Whatever this is, it’s wrong. These are supposed to be your quote unquote big brothers. What would Mikasa think? 

But something snaps in you. It’s curiosity. The need to know. What would it be like to be fucked senseless by them? It has your imagination running wild. How can you deny this opportunity? It’s basically being served to you on a silver platter.

“Let your big brothers take care of you,” Reiner whispers, nipping at your ear lobe, grinding his hips on your ass. It’s so wrong. So wrong, you keep chanting in your head. 

Eren fondles your breasts through your clothes. “You want to feel good tonight, right baby? We can help you feel good.”

Is it the pet name that pushes you over the edge? Or is it the allure of being pleasured by two guys at the same time? Either way, you reach behind you to run your fingers through Reiner’s hair while you take your other hand to tug Eren forward into a sloppy kiss. 

“Fuck, I think she wants it,” Reiner murmurs, licking a stripe behind your ear. “Let’s go.” 

“Follow us, baby. We’ll take care of you tonight.” Eren grabs your wrist, leading you upstairs to follow Reiner into his room. It doesn’t seem like he has a roommate, considering the beds are combined to create one that is nearly king-sized. Too busy inspecting the interior design of a typical frat boy, which so far consists of flattened boxes of beer packs hung up like posters and a large Alpha Tau flag strewn across one side of the wall, the sound of the door shutting loudly brings you to your senses. 

You’re very aware now that it’s the three of you, alone in this bedroom, air dense with sexual tension. Suddenly, you’re nervous. You’ve never had a threesome. It’s certainly been a fantasy of yours, but to experience it first-hand, you start having self-doubts if you can really go through with it. 

Eren, sensing your trepidation, puts his arm around you, rubbing your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Reiner, who’s already sprawled out on the bed in his boxers, clothes promptly stripped off, adds, “Yeah. We can just chill here. It’s all good.”

They’re not pressuring you, which you appreciate. You’re hesitant, sure. But you haven’t changed your mind. You want this. You want this bad.  

“I want to do it,” you state, removing your shorts and tossing them aside. 

Reiner laughs, sitting up to watch you, shoving his own boxers off. “You’re eager. She’s eager, Eren.”

“Yeah, she is,” Eren muses, tugging at your wrist. “Let’s go to the bed, sweetie.”

Reiner scoots over to make room for you, palming his growing erection, watching Eren strip you nude. When you’re naked, you turn to Reiner to kiss him. He smiles before shoving his tongue into your mouth.

“Lay down for us, baby,” Eren purrs, now naked, boner stiff against his sculpted abs, kissing your stomach. He peers up at you with twinkling eyes, almost innocent, knowing for a fact he’s about to wreck your pussy apart.

Reiner lies beside you, cupping your cheek, large tongue working its way deep inside your mouth. His hand trails down to your chest, squeezing at your breast. “Do you like having your nipples played with?” he asks, lips glossy with spit.

You nod, eyes glancing at Eren, his head positioned between your legs, palms spreading your thighs wide, staring at your pussy already sticky with arousal. Reiner refocuses your gaze on him, muttering, “Pay attention to me, princess.” Another nod and you close your eyes, kissing him, enjoying the soft caress of his hands on your tits. 

Below you, Eren, the fucking menace that he is, doesn’t start slow. He wraps his lips around your clit, swishing his tongue against it until you’re whimpering from pleasure.

“Oh fuck, she likes that, Eren. Keep doing that. I want to see her come all over your face,” Reiner smirks, brushing his rough thumbs on your hardening nipples. He moves down, facing your chest, sucking on your breast until it’s hard and plump. “Fuck, your tits are amazing,” he rasps, flicking his tongue. 

Eren gives you a break, slowly licking your sensitive bud a few times before latching on once more. It’s almost too much, body instinctually jolting from his touch. You endure it, though; the sensation too divine to stop. 

“Finger her, Eren,” Reiner demands, as if reading your mind. The desire to be filled is overtaking everything else.

Tongue flat on your clit, he hums in the response, middle finger teasing your slick entrance before slipping inside, knuckle deep. Still, it’s not enough. Even Reiner knows it.

“Put another,” he growls, eyes focused on your pussy being wrecked as he continues to play with your tits. “Fill her up.”

Eren obeys, sliding his ring finger along with the middle, pumping his digits inside you. You’re a whining mess, unable to control the lewd sounds escaping your mouth. Drool leaks out from the corners of your lips, your tongue lolling out from being fucked out. Reiner chuckles, releasing you with a loud pop. “You’re a loud one, aren’t you? You need something in your mouth to keep you quiet.” He grazes your tongue with his thumb, staring at you hungrily. “Suck on these like they’re my dick.”

All you can do is nod dumbly, grabbing at his thick wrist to stick his three middle fingers down your throat. He pumps them into your mouth as he suckles at your nipples, like an animal desperate for milk.

You’re overstimulated, from having your mouth and pussy stuffed, to your most erogenous zones being consumed by lips and teeth. Your toes curl from the pleasure, throat dry from the endless moaning around Reiner’s rough digits, skin damp with sweat and saliva. The orgasm hits you like a wave of electricity coursing through your veins, exciting every nerve in your body. You whimper on Reiner’s fingers, tickling the back of your mouth, causing you to gag slightly. 

“Fuck,” Eren muffles below you, still lapping at your clit. The wet squelches sound even more lewd from your noticeable orgasm. He flicks his tongue on your sticky mess, smearing it over your puffy bud, repeating the action several times until he’s satisfied.

“Ah, Eren. Fuck,” you breath out, mouth relinquished from Reiner. He has been relentlessly working your tits, swollen and sore from his efforts. When he’s done, he slides back up the bed beside you.

“Look at the mess you made.” He grips at your chin, directing your gaze at Eren, who’s face is glistening, smirk coated in your shiny cum. 

“You did so good for us,” Eren says, crawling up the bed to join you on your other side. He gently pinches your tit, sucking on your neck. Reiner kisses you on the mouth, massaging the other breast. You grasp their hard cocks, stroking them simultaneously, resulting in both of them moaning. 

“Fuck, baby.”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“Fuck yeah, she’s such a good girl.”

“So fucking good for us.”

The three of you stay this way for a while, erections growing unbelievably stiff in your fists. One of their hands, at this point you’re not sure whose, is at your clit, tapping it and rubbing fast. You’re convinced that you can come like this if they let you. 

“Think she’s wet enough?” Reiner asks his brother.

“Yeah, she’s really fucking wet, dude. It’s going to feel so fucking good.” Eren answers. “Can you take it, sweetie? Can you take Reiner’s fat cock?”

“I can take it,” you breathe out, needy and aching to be filled again.

Reiner moves to the bottom of the bed. “Are you on the pill?” 

You nod, humming against Eren’s mouth, occupied with kissing him. 

“Good. I want to fuck you raw.”

“Come inside her, Reiner. Give her a fucking creampie,” Eren murmurs, kissing your forehead affectionately, despite the filthy words coming out of his mouth. The way they speak to each other, instructing one another on what obscene act to perform on you next, spurs you on. Makes you feel like you’re in fucking heat, ready to be bred. 

“You want my cum inside you, princess? Want me to fill up that tight cunt?” Reiner spits into his hand then strokes himself, teasing your slit with his tip. 

“Yes,” you respond, voice shaky.

“That’s not enough for him, cutie,” Eren whispers to you. He massages your clit gently as Reiner slides his cockhead up and down your folds. “He likes it when you beg for it.”

You’re too desperate to care about pride. You’re going to beg for this, no matter what. “Please, Reiner. Fuck me, please.”

“That’s more like it,” he grunts, stroking himself faster. “Get in front of her, Eren.”

Eren gives you one last smooch before sitting up and kneeling at the top of the bed, tossing a few pillows to the floor to make space. 

Reiner taps at your hips. “On your hands and knees, slut. And stick that ass up for me.” His voice is raspy, demeanor rougher than a few minutes ago. Something has taken over him; it’s his carnal desire to fuck you into the mattress. 

You do as your told, arching your back to give him a nice view of your pussy, wet and fluttering, ready for cock. Without warning, he smacks your ass cheek, laughing. “I’m going to fuck you so good. You have no fucking idea.”

Eren kneels in front of you, erect and oozing with precum. “You’re so cute, you know that? So pretty.” He caresses you delicately, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “Can you suck my dick, baby? Pretty please?”

You’re beginning to understand the dynamic that’s going on here. Eren is sweet, tender, and considerate. Then there’s Reiner: rough, harsh, and greedy. Opposites of each other, working together to tear you to pieces, rip you into shreds. Two sides of the same coin. 

You wrap you fingers around Eren, leaning forward to spread the bead of precum along your lips like gloss. He smiles at you, still cupping your face. “So fucking pretty.” 

Reiner continues to tease you, gathering your slick onto his cockhead to rub it on your bud. “I’m going to fuck you now, princess. Let me take care of this pussy.” Aligned with your entrance, he slowly slides in, your walls stretching to adjust to his girth. You hear him suck in a breath behind you, cursing. “Fuck, you’re tight. Such a good girl.”

“You are a good girl.” Eren pushes past your lips. You take him into your salivating mouth, surrounding him with your wet heat, tongue tracing the prominent vein running along his shaft. “Our good girl. Our good fucking girl.”

You bob your head on his dick, further and further until he’s deep down your throat. You keep him there, swallowing around him, resisting the urge to gag on his cock. Through teary eyes, you peer up at him, looking for approval, wanting him to be proud of the way you take it. He meets your gaze, breathing heavily, eyes wild with lust, staring at your stuffed mouth. His kind disposition from earlier is crumbling; he caresses your cheeks tenderly, but his expression gives him away. Still, he stays still, hesitant to take control.

Reiner, however, is on a different level. He starts fucking you, pulling his cock out halfway only to slam it all the way back in, pace picking up gradually after each thrust. The force causes you to plunge further onto Eren, nose buried in his dark pubic hair, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth. Your muffled whimpers vibrate around him, causing him to moan from the sensation. 

“Fuck, you’re doing such a good job,” he praises, holding your head cautiously. 

Reiner holds you firmly at your hips, fucking you hard and fast, grunting. “Take my cock, princess. Take it like the fucking slut you are.”

You pull off of Eren just enough so that only his tip is engulfed by your mouth. With your fist jerking his shaft, you blow him, swirling your tongue on the slit. “Fuck, that’s it, baby. Feels so good. Gonna make me come.”

“Make Eren come,” Reiner huffs. “Make him nut in that slutty mouth.” He’s found your sweet spot, barely pulling out to hit it over and over. You’re soaked around him, convinced that your arousal is dripping onto the sheets, making a mess of his bed.

“I’m coming,” Eren warns, stomach tight, eyes shut. His warm cum shoots into the back of your throat as you suck him off, swallowing every drip. He slumps against the headboard, catching his breath. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, bowing down to kiss your puffy lips. “Thank you.” 

“I’m gonna come soon. Gonna fill you up with this load,” Reiner growls. Your ass smacks against his groin, his heavy balls tapping lightly onto your clit. You’re close to your second orgasm, but you need just a little bit more.

“Come here, Eren. Play with it while I fuck her.” It really is as if Reiner can read your thoughts, aware of exactly what you need to push you over the edge, get you closer to that peak. 

Eren crawls down the bed, kneeling beside you, hand reaching between your legs, finding your swollen bud. When he does, you cry out, “Ah! Fuck!”

They both laugh, Eren brutally rubbing it as he watches Reiner fuck you from behind. 

“Look how creamy it is. That’s all her. She fucking loves it.”

“Our pretty girl loves getting fucked.”

“Pinch her little clit. Make her come on my cock.”

Eren squeezes your clit gently between his thumb and forefinger. It’s too much. You let go, the orgasm so intense, you’re trembling, fists bunched in the bedsheets below you, whining in ecstasy. 

“Holy shit, I’m coming.” Reiner thrusts into you a few more times before his cock spurts inside you. 

“Fuck,” Eren swears, loosening his grip on you.

Reiner stays in you for several seconds, coming down from his high. He slowly pulls out, his cum and yours leaking out of your fluttering hole. They both breathe out a satisfied fuck, staring at the flow of cum dripping out of your slit. Someone, you’re not sure who, plants a smooch on your lower back. Most likely Eren, the more affectionate of the two. You lower your torso onto the bed, relaxing into the mattress, exhausted and satiated from the insanity that just occurred.

Once again, you find yourself sandwiched between them, both facing you, smiling. You turn on your back to stare up at the ceiling, glancing at each of them, unsure what to say.  

Eren is the first to break the silence. “Did you have fun, cutie?” He turns your head towards him, nuzzling his nose with yours.

“Yeah, I did,” you answer, grinning. “That was amazing.”

“You came so much, princess,” Reiner adds, chin grazing the skin of your shoulder, palm tracing languid circles on your breasts. Eren kisses you on the lips while Reiner works on your neck. The three of you stay like this until a phone starts ringing. 

“Shit, that’s probably Mikasa,” Eren mutters, breaking away. He hops off the bed to retrieve his phone on the other side of the room. Reiner quickly turns you toward him, taking this opportunity to kiss you passionately as his brother answers the phone. His arms are snug around you, cozy and comfortable in his warm embrace. 

You don’t pay attention to Eren’s conversation, focused instead on making out with Reiner. It ends as soon as Eren comes back into bed.

“What did Mikasa say?” you ask.

“She’s looking for us. Specifically, you. She’s worried.”

“About what?”

“Probably about us corrupting you,” Eren laughs, nestling his face into your neck.

“I guess she’s on to something,” Reiner responds, copying Eren. 

You snuggle them. “She doesn’t have to know about this. It’ll be our little secret.”

“You’re okay with sneaking around next time?”

“Next time?” In your head, you already decided this would be a one-time kind of deal. Not because you want it to be, but because you assumed they wouldn’t want to do this again. 

“You don’t seriously think this is the last time we’re doing this, do you? Baby, you’re too cute,” Eren says, grinning.

Reiner chuckles. “You’re stuck with us now, princess. You’re way too good to let go. Right, Eren?”

“Yeah. I think we’ll keep you for a while.”

End Notes: Happy birthday Eren!

[stitching-in-time]

Finally caught up on Star Trek: Prodigy, and I truly think it's the best of the new Star Trek series. It has the strongest first season of any Trek show since Voyager, and it both respects the Star Trek universe and expands on it beautifully.

As an animated series, it has a grand scale and visual beauty that's unmatched in all of Star Trek. This show is breathtakingly gorgeous! All the design work is top notch; the character designs especially are truly different and unique and completely break the 'basically humanoid aliens with bumpy foreheads' mold.

For all that people seem to ignore it because it's a kids show, I think it has the strongest and most thoughtful writing of all the new Trek shows. The premise of child slaves escaping a mining asteroid in a stolen Starfleet ship is actually the darkest of any Trek series, and there's as many heartbreaking moral dilemmas to chew over as any Trek series ever gave us. But it captures the optimistic, humanist spirit of Star Trek far better than a show like Picard does, because unlike that show, it's not trying to be dark to be edgy or cool, it's trying to be honest and to find hope and light amidst dark circumstances. Hope that a better future is possible is what made Star Trek edgy in the first place, and as the world gets more cynical, holding onto that ideal is infinitely more punk than cynicism could ever be. Prodigy gets that, and it respects the history and lore of Star Trek while building on it. It was clearly made by people who've actually seen Voyager, and actually know and like Captain Janeway, because what we see of her here feels like the Janeway I grew up with. It's like getting to see an old friend again, having new adventures, while still being the same person she always was.

I do like all the other new Trek series, except for Picard, and I feel like for the most part, they've been very strong, and in keeping with the spirit of Star Trek. But Prodigy has this special mix of being tied directly to the old stuff while adding something entirely new. The epic scale of the first season's story arc was amazing, it is one of, if not the, best season finales I've ever seen in all of Star Trek. I'm grew up on the 90s shows, which will always have my heart, but Prodigy is such a mind-blowing expansion of that whole universe, I'm honestly astounded and grateful that someone used my old faves to make this epic new thing, which hopefully will bring an entirely new audience to the old stuff.

Despite the fact that there's lots of deep lore references that us grown up Trekkies can pick out with delight everywhere, the story of the main protagonists is self contained, and doesn't actually need any previous familarity with Star Trek to understand. Since the main characters don't know what Starfleet or the Federation even is, the audience can discover that along with them. It's such a genius concept, and it works so well! I honestly cried watching the season finale, it wrapped up the season's worth of story and character development so well, and set things up for an exciting new season. The characters are so well defined and lovable already! It has humor, it has adventure, it has heart, it's a classic Star Trek found family story!

I just can't rave about Prodigy enough, it exceeded all my expectations and then some. Everyone who loves Star Trek, please go watch it! Everyone who loves animation, please go watch it! Especially if you love Captain Janeway and Voyager, please go watch it! I want as many more seasons of this show as I can possibly get, so we need to keep streaming it so Netflix sees how popular it is and decides to make more.

I guess I'm in the category of old Trekkies now, so believe me when I say this show is what Star Trek is all about! Please please please give it a chance and you'll love it too!!!

[luimagines]

hey hey! it’s been awhile

could i please ask for a continuation to the wars soulmate au?

-🫓

Sure thing buddy! :)

Masterlist

Part 1

Content under the cut!

Now- you pitch yourself off a cliff. That's what.

You stand up abruptly- breaking the tension before it can fully form and run out of the room.

This is mortifying.

This is not what you wanted to learn today even if it still makes sense given what Sky had told you about how the soulmate stones worked. Of course Warrior was your soulmate. Had to be. It's not like it would have been one in a bajillion chance at ever meeting him.

And what does it say for when all of this is over?

You do abandon your friends and family for the sake of following him? You can't ask him to follow you. He's too important. Too many people are depending on him for him to simply go with you and live whatever simple life you had to offer.

Is this the end then? Are you still doomed? You doubt you would be able to move on from this even if you were never going to be together.

"Hold it!" Someone grabs your arm.

You scream and jump, trying to tear your arm away but it's Warrior.

Of course it's Warrior.

"What?" You ask with you heart in your throat. "Don't make this harder than it has to be. Please!"

He stills and instantly lets you go. Whatever words he had on his tongue die in an instant and you have the ever subtle feeling that perhaps you shouldn't have said that. Could this get any worse?

Warrior takes a deep breath, bravely meeting your eyes. "I'm sorry."

Why must you tempt the universe? How much more must you pay for your hubris?

Your jaw drops and your stand there stunned. "Wait-"

"I just..." Warrior starts again, cutting you off. "I'm sorry. I'm probably not your first choice." -Oh my god- "I know that my past has more baggage than it's worth." -What have you done?- "But I thought... The stones were honest though, right?"

He looks so hopeful. Had he actually wanted something from you? With you? You sudden get cotton mouth. You can't speak. Your brain flat lines there are no thoughts for you to grab onto.

"Right?" He echoes his previous question, wanting confirmation. "Even... if that was incredibly embarrassing, it was true, wasn't it?"

Somehow you nod.

Warrior lets out a shuddering breath. "Oh... Oh, ok... good. Uh- I mean. I'm... I'm glad that you.. um... Look, I really like you." He says, biting the bullet. "Like... really really like you. I wasn't- I didn't want to seem like I was coming on too strong and the guys give me a hard time enough as it is. But if this is true... If you like me too, do you think...?"

You feel like you need to sit down again. you're only saving grace is that you're outside where no one seemed to have followed you. "...You... like me?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" He flushes, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. "I had thought you believed I was just a joke."

"Funny." You choke on the word. "That couldn't have been further from the truth."

"What is the truth?" Warrior stress, boldly closing the distance between you again. His blushing features don't help him stay stoic and cool like he would have hoped.

You gulp. You don't have the words. This is both agonizingly slow and much too fast for you to handle. Why couldn't he just read your mind and- Wait. The stones.

Double wait.

You're close to each other. The stone would be silent. Cursed be the need to communication!

You take his hand instead and hold it tight. "I think... we both already know the truth."

You kiss his knuckles before you can second guess yourself. His hands are smoother and softer than you would have thought. He wasn't wearing his hand guards yet, still in his casual wear.

The effect of your kiss on Warrior was another delightfully bright blush all over his face, down to his neck and beyond. "I.... I see."

"Do you?" You whisper, feeling like a fish out of water. Everything about this feels raw and sensitive. One wrong move and everything would blow up.

"I think so." Warrior leans in, kissing your cheek. "Better?"

You suddenly feel like you can breathe again. "Much better."

[bts-trash-blog]

Best Of Us Hidden Moments

A Hidden Moment following the event of Chapter 24: Never

Summary: just little moments that I thought up their after posting a chapter or just didn't flow like I wanted to

Pairing: Rap Line X Fem!Chubby Omega!Reader

Warning: A/O/B!Vers, angst, fluff, smut(all the warnings on the main story tbh)

A/n: dipping my toes back into the BOU universe with a little hidden moment after the last chapter of BOU I posted well over a year ago(almost two). And god I’ve missed it. This isn’t my official comeback just something for all of you that have stuck around while I found my passion for writing again:) thank you all so much.

PREV...._.Next

You were hot-sticky and thirsty. Three things you absolutely hated-yet you didn't want to leave the panting pile of cuddles. Namjoons was sloppily kissing your shoulder as his fingertips dragged shapes into your skin. Hoseok was on your other side, his lips pressed to the top of your head as your body rested against his chest. Your mind in a haze-dropping into something you could only explain as a blanket of softness- a feeling you’ve never truly felt before as you entered a full drop. You’ve only ever heard of this feeling from your friends, and even then their words don't even come close to this feeling. Light. You felt light for the first time since your first heat, even then it didn’t feel like this.

Your mind is has gone completely blank-your breath slowing more and more with every passing second. Your eyes slowly closing as your fingertips start to mimic the shapes that Namjoon was drawing against you on Hoseok's chest. The feeling of your head rising and falling with each of his breath brought you closer and closer to sleep. Then it's like something snapped in you as Hoseoks grabs a piece of your hair, twirling it between his fingers. It felt like a crashing wave against cracked glass, your shoulders slightly tenseing, so slight you wouldn’t have guessed anyone would have noticed. But you were wrong. It had Hoseok's hand moving under your chin and lifting your head up to look up at him.

“Hi there princess- you there?” His voice was soft- his nose nudging against yours as you shook your head slowly blinking up at him as he chuckled softly at you. “Okay-what about you baby boy?” He asked as the Omega behind you grunted, his chin hooking over your shoulder as you heard him letting out a soft breath.

“I'm good. Just happy.” Namjoons words had Hoseok's chuckling as you blush. Your mind slowly coming back more and more as you grew cold. You’re naked. Holy shit you’re naked.

“Can I get the sheet or something?” You mumbled softly voice slightly shaking. Hearing Namjoon sigh a kiss dragging across your shoulder as he lifted himself from your back. His hand moved to pull you from Hoseok’s chest-a playful growl passing said Alphas lips as you roll onto your back. Your eyes look up and meet his-fuck-they’re blow out and glossed over his swollen lips parted and glossy. The way he gives you a soft smile he suddenly dives on top of you, making a grunt leave your lips. His hips pressed against yours, the feeling of his boxers against your still bare sensitive cunt had your inventory buckling up into him. “Sensitive.” You whimper as he chuckles at you his lips pressing to your scent glands as one of his hands moves down to rub against your outer thigh. One of your hands automatically falls into his messy hair, his breathing almost turned into a purring sounds as a giggle filling the room as you look over to your Alpha. Hoseoks eyes were soft, smile big and his scent was minty pushing around you like a fresh breeze. “Still cold-and kinda naked.” You mumble making the two men laugh as you feel Namjoon rub his cheek against your shoulder.

“Just how we like it-well besides the cold-shit you are cold.” Hoseok mumbled when his hand moved from where it was in your hair to your bare none Namjoon filled should. You watch as the Alphas eyes widen then his body quickly diving down and pulling the flat sheet of the bed over the two of you. His own body stays out from it making your lips turn from a teasing smile to a pout as he tucks the two of you in.Huffing at the Alpha as he tries to leave the bed-hand leaving Namjoons hair your hand wraps around his wrist. Landing back onto his knees on the bed he bends down, one hand landing next to your head as the other cups your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Making you mind draw a blank- any and all awareness of being nude underneath Namjoon going away. When he pulls away a pout falls right back onto your lips making him smile down at you, his hand moving to soothe your hair down, then moves his hand to rest on the back of Namjoons head.

“Joonie? Keep pup warm for Alpha-gotta get you guys clean, gonna run the shower. I'll be right back I promise.” His words had the male on top of you nodding as you close your eyes, fingers threading back through Namjoons hair. The feeling of the Omegas lips pressing along your collarbone-the feeling brought chills under every spot he touched. The soft feeling was making you slowly drift as your heart the bathroom door close.

When the feeling of Namjoon lips started to press roughly against your skin-it had your eyes opening. Confusion as the sweet scent of peaches started to go sour. He’s sad? Why is he sad? Does he regret it? Your fingers stopped moving as he let out a shaken breath when he pulled away and looked at you. His eyes wide, blown out as tears suddenly line his eyes making your other leg wrap around his waist rolling the two of you over. Following your instincts without a single thought as you land on top of his chest.

“Omega?” You wonder out loud, hand moving wrapping around his head as your forehead pressed against his. It makes him chirp as his hand rests on top of your thighs, the sound of him swallowing as he takes another shaky breath in had your tilting your head as on of your hands moves to his chin. Moving his forhead to alone with yours as your rested agains him. “Joonie?”

“I thought you were gonna leave us. Leave me. That we ruined everything…that I ruined everything.” He rambles out-it was jumbled together into a whisper of words as you ‘shush’ him though he shakes his head as he blinks. A tear falling down, your thumb caching it as he looks up at you. “Every single second up till this point I thought you’d leave.”

“Joonie, what?” You whisper, making him close his eyes “I was hurt-mad but I wasn’t gonna leave you over this.” You feel as he takes a deep breath in as he smiles softly as his eyes open again. Though his eyes held a twist of sadness as the feeling of his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin nodding. “Do..so you need to talk about it more?” He closes his eyes, twitching his nose as he nods. Eyes opening back up as you give him a soft smile.

“I’m terrified I’m gonna end up being alone.” His voice was a feather like whisper as he kept his eyes locked with yours. “It’s why I’ve alway been so possessive over Hobi and Yoon-what..what if they find someone new? Better more Omega- and just leave? Just leave me?” His voice tapered off as his eyes closed and his scent was rotten pears, overly sweets peaches and soured sweet cream. It had you wanting to almost gag-hearing the shuffling a feet and the smell of Hoseok pushing his scent under the door had you and the Omega below you relax. “I don't know why..just…people leave. I didn't want you to leave. I don’t want you to leave. I need you with me-with our Alphas.” He takes a deep breath in, pink tongue peaking out from his lips as he blinked up at you. The slight gleam of his tears had you hand moving to cup his cheek thumb wiping under his eye as you nod, making him swallow as his eyes close. “Every single one of my partners before the boys left-said I was too much or-or just not enough. That I was the only problem.So I get in my head-and it's hard to get out of it with a new situation…and you’re new.”

“I get that.” You whisper, making him nod eyes open as he leans up lips pressing against yours as a smile lift onto your lips. It makes him smile his dimples in show as you nuzzle your nose to his. “New is hard-change is hard. Time…time helps a lot with change.”

“The boys have also helped a lot they always help me process my thoughts like this…” he pauses as you feel his hand slid from one of your thighs up your hips to your lower back. “Though with you everything is so new and I don’t want to fuck this up and every which way it feels like I am.” You raise your eyebrow, a question on your lips as he sighs up at you-the sound of running water makes your heart speed up. Hoseoks slowly cracked the door, your eyes meeting as you glare softly making his eyes widen as he shuts the door. “See I just fucked up-alpha is trying to do aftercare and I’m making it all about me.” his eyes close-tears falling as you shake your head lips pressing across his cheeks. Every breath he took he seemed to check on, gets each kiss you press seemed to steady his lungs. As you finally land your lips back onto his, the feeling of him finally catching his breath had relief fill you chest. Pulling away hair falling ino your face making you huff. One of his hands reached up, pushing it back over your shoulders.

“Joonie-I want it to be about you-my life is going to be you…and stop saying you’re fucking up baby.”

“But I do-I always fuck up.”

“How? How have you fucked up?”

“I mean I tried to attack you when I first met you.”

“I mean now that I know what you have it makes sense.” Your words had a giggle passing up his chest as his hand moved to grab one of yours, fingers threading together. His lips pressed against your hands as he looked back up at you.

“Or when-when I growled at Bambam.”

“I mean I’d do the same.”

“I’ve growled at your mother.”

“I’ve done the same.”

“I didn’t ask enough questions at the start.”

“You have time now.”

“But what if I’m not enough?” You pause, smile dropping as you move down, pressing your forehead back against his as you take a deep breath in. Hair falling caging your faces together as the sound of the shower running and Hoseok's whistling as the afternoon sun cast between the rooms blackout currents and it gleams against Namjoons skin through your strands of hair. How could he ever think he wasn’t enough? You felt your eyes water, and you felt yourself finally resting fully against him, weighing him down with you entirely. You give him a broken smile as you traced his lips down to his chin with your pointer finger. How could he ever be less than this? Less than perfect. “What if you do leave me? Leave us?”

“Are you gonna leave me?” Your question had him sitting up, your body sliding down to his thighs as he grabs your face and glares.

“Never.” You smile brightly, head tilting as your legs move to wrap behind him as you feel the sheet slip down, arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him.

“And I wouldn’t want to ever leave you.” You pause your eyes closing as you press your forehead against his. “I’m new with…all of this and the three of you have made me feel so safe…for the most part.” You mumble under your breath as you look into his eyes. “One mistake-one that you three didn’t know was one-isn’t gonna have me leaving.” The words that passed your lips had a rattling breath leave him as you give him a bright smile. Arms wrapped around him as you being to rock the two of you, chirps passing your lips as you notice his scent slowly twisting back. Pears and peaches ripe and sweet. Just how it should be. Hoseok clearing his throat had you blink your eyes open and see at the still very dry Alpha standing at the steam filled bathroom.

“Showers ready.”

“We are too. Come on baby.” You whisper against Namjoon's shoulder pulling away and crawling out of bed. As your feet meet the floor Hoseok was in front of you helping you up out of the bed. A kiss pressed passionately yet softly against your lips has his hand slips from yours to your jaw. It had you breathing a soft puff as he smiled down at you when he pulled away. His nose touching yours as he lets his hands drop from your face.

“Good job pup.” Pride spreads across your chest at the praise given to you. Moving forward and turn waiting for Namjoon as he gets up behind you. “Let's get cleaned up, then we’ll eat.”

“Yay food!” You cheer, making Namjoon giggle as the three of you trail back into the bathroom. You bullying your way into the shower letting the pressurized water spray down on your body first. The heat pelting on your slight tense back as your hand reaches up to go through your hair when you feel your arms sliding around your body. “I'm starving.” You giggle softly making Hoseok laugh as you turn around and sigh as you see his bright smile and bare chest. “I always hear how hungry Lisa or Bam would get after..after stuff and I never got it till now.” You awkwardly giggle as you catch Namjoon slipping into the massive shower his eyes meeting yours. “Anyway…” You trail off blinking quickly as you pull away and look around you the shampoo and conditioner you had used the last time you were here. Seeing it you quickly move to wash it through your hair though Hoseok swats your hand gently away.

“Alpha cleans.” His voice was playful with a smile as you huffed as the feeling of his hands moving to take the shampoo. Soon he was scratching at your scalp making you grunt in response as suddenly Namjoon was moving around the two of you, helping rinse your hair.

“Me next.” He whispered, moving your wet hair to the side and pressing a kiss, quickly you switch places as Hoseok smiles at Namjoon. “Hi Alpha.”

“Hi baby boy. How are you feeling?”

“Better, pup helped a lot.” His words had you look over to Hoseok and smile as the two of you moved to wrap him into your arms. “You guys always help.”

[luvyeni]

omg need a second part for that chenle smut🥵

INTERRUPTED; ZHONG CHENLE

pairings. non-idolchenle x collegefem!reader

word count. 1.5k+

warnings. (PART TWO TO THIS) pwp, fingering. oral (fem. receiving), unprotected sex, chenle cums inside, overstimulation if you squint, he calls her a slut once

synopsis. when you texted him to come over he couldn't put his shoes on fast enough to get to you... sadly his friends have other plans.

YN💓| my exams are done...

YN💓| you should come over...

YN💓| right now❤️

Read

Chenle couldn't think of any other time he has gotten up so fast to do something. He got up and got dressed, grabbed his keys, and was ready to get to the girl who captivated his mind 24 hours a day.

After the incident on the couch, he couldn't wait to see her again. Sadly due to her exams, he was forced to wait until hers were finished.

This doesn't mean she didn't make his life a living hell... no, she tortured him for 2 weeks with steamy images and text messages that left him with enough masturbation material for a week.

"where are you going?" Haechan and jaemin, his roommates, stopped him on his way out the door.

'Why is the universe stopping me from getting to her?' he thought as he turned to his friends. "Me and jisung are gonna hang out for a while." He didn't need to lie, but what he did in his free time was not haechans business.

"Good- jisung wants us to come over and play video games, we can go together." jaemin stood up from the chair. "Yeah, we can catch the same Uber and save money." Haechan followed, standing up.

He was starting to think jisung was a major cockblock, but he couldn't just say no they could come because he was going to fuck his best friend's roommate. "Okay, let's go." with that, the boys were on their way out the door.

"Haechan and jaemin are coming, over to play video games in my room, we'll keep it down I swear." She nodded at the boy in her doorway. "Thank you."

She wanted to tell him no, but how could she tell him she didn't want his friends to come over because his best friend was coming over to fuck.

There was a knock on the door, knocking her out of her thoughts.

"＿＿! Can you get the door, I'm trying to set up the game." Sighing at her misfortune, she got up, making her way to the door.

"Hello ＿＿ ." Haechan made his way into the apartment. "Haechan, jaemin- shit chenle." Her eyes widened at the boy who walked in. "You're here too?" she made her way into the kitchen.

Chenle's eyes followed her as she did whatever she did in the kitchen. His eyes roamed her body, her shorts barely covering anything, he couldn't help but stare at her ass, cock stirring in his pants.

"Of course, why wouldn't he be?" Haechan questioned. "Ji said it would just be you two." Haechan was about to say something when jisung finally decided to grace everyone with his existence.

"Chenle you're here too? I guess you can take turns playing." They followed jisung to his room, chenle staying behind, yelling about getting a snack.

"I can see you smirking, you must be having fun, seeing me suffer." He stalked the girl, lust clouding his eyes as he made his way over to her.

"I'm assuming you were expecting something, or do you dress like this for all of your roommate's friends?" He was now standing behind her, playing with the waistband of her shorts.

"I don't know, jaemin does look good."

He scoffed, letting the elastic hit her skin, a whimper emitting from her mouth. "You have a lot of jokes right now, but let's see whose cock is inside you soon." he kissed her neck, a shiver ran down her spine.

"Chenle c'mon!" he pulled away from the girl. "I'm gonna get you back." was the last thing she told him before he disappeared into jisungs room and she went into her room.

He needed to stop opening her text messages if he wanted to remain sane... or at least not cum in his sweats but between the text or the photos she kept sending him, he was gonna lose it.

"Chenle your phone has been blowing up for the past hour, you got a girlfriend you haven't told us about?" Haechan quirked a brow at him. He was about to come back with a snarky remark, but his phone rang.

YN💓| my door is open, and I'm so wet rn...

He couldn't stand it, she was gonna kill him. "I'm going to the bathroom." He didn't bother waiting for a response, leaving the room, he made his to her.

Not even knocking on the door, he opened the door—and when he opened the door, he could've cum just from the sight.

Her fingers were deep inside her, and her head was thrown back in pleasure. "Fuuuck~ Chenle, what took you so long?" The smirk on her face pissed him off to the max.

He had enough of her teasing, he took two steps toward her, stopping her movements. "You done teasing me, all those pictures and text, popped a boner in front of everyone." he climbed on top of her.

"Did you like them?" She tried to move her hands, but he held a strong grip. "Did I say touch?" a firm slap on her clit, a loud moan had him covering her mouth.

"Unless you want them to hear how much of a slut you are, be quiet." He could feel her clench around nothing. "Fuck of course you like that." he groaned, rubbing her clit in harsh circles.

"You're so wet right now, I need to taste you." he kissed down her stomach, stopping right at her waistline, looking for consent.

"Lele— shiiit please do something!" He couldn't help it, he wanted to punish her for sending those photos and text, but that fucking name was gonna get him in trouble one day.

Leaving a kiss on her clit—diving right in, he began to eat her out like he hadn't eaten all day. "Oh, my fuck~ chenle more please!" She pulled at his hair, trying to pull him closer, grinding down on his face.

She didn't have many partners—but out of the ones she did have, chenle was the best she had in a while, hell he probably was the best she had in general.

He kept going, switching between his fingers and his mouth, she felt the knot in her stomach grow tighter and tighter.

"lele~ lele fuck I'm gonna cum!" he moaned into her heat, which caused the knot in her stomach to finally snap. "I'm cumming!"

"Shit, you taste so fucking good, I almost came untouched." He rubbed soft circles on her clit.

The fucked out look on her face sent shivers down chenle's spine. "Such a pretty girl." He pressed his lips against her soft lips, grinding his hips against her. Her moans were the only thing he could hear, he was so captived by the girl.

"Gonna let me fuck you hmm, cream my cock?" He pulled his cock out he sweats, pressing his tip against her twitching hole.

"Chenle, please do something." She whined, trying to grind down on him.

"Should I?" He teased, sliding in just the tip. "What if I just fuck you with just the tip? hmm, tease you like you've been doing for the past two weeks."

She knew it would eventually come back to bite her in the ass. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He cocked his head to the side. "Please lele~ please I'll be good." she begged, damn near on the brink of tears.

He couldn't help it, sliding in with a groan. "Oh, fuck~ fuck you're tight." He threw his head back.

Once he was fully in—he pulled out, delivering a powerful deep thrust that made her yelp in pleasure.

Speeding up his movements, her moans getting louder and louder. "you're clenching hard as fuck around me."

"You feel so good." He watched her eyes roll back—fucked out face, he knew it wasn't his last time doing this with her.

“So good for me princess, letting me fuck you.” he pants. “So fucking warm and tight and perfect. God, I can't get enough of you, gonna let me do it again, hmm? have you all the time.” he was saying anything, but he didn't even care, he had to have her.

"Lele, I'm gonna cum." She reached between them, rubbing her clit in harsh circles. "Go ahead, princess." he kissed her, replacing her hand with his, rubbing her clit.

"Cum on my cock."

With his permission—she came, throwing her head back. "Shit, such a pretty sight, I have to see you do it again." He rode out her orgasm.

He felt the knot in his stomach about to snap, speeding up he let out a few grunts. "Shit princess, I'm cumming, where do you want it."

"Inside, I want it inside." he could feel her about to cum again. "Fuck~ you're crazy." he delivered a hard thrust, painting her walls white, triggering her third orgasm.

"Fuck!"

He slowly pulled out, and she whined in overstimulation. "You okay?"

She nodded, breathing hard. "Those photos made you like that?" she laughed.

"You've been sending pictures of this—." He toyed with her clit, making her twitch, grabbing his hand for him to stop. "Four two weeks, I was pent up." he removed his hand.

Before she could come up with a sly comeback, there was a knock on the door.

"You two could've told us you were coming over to fuck, and we would've left, no one wanted to hear you two go at it like animals." haechan's voice spoke from the other side.

"Oh my god." She covered her face in embarrassment, he took her hand away, smirking.

"Don't be shy, now they know and they can leave, because I'm about to make you scream even louder."

©️LUVYENI

[narcolini]

white room - pt. 2

johnny davis x gn!reader, 18+, canon typical themes and language, 4.3k words, 2 of ? part one here a/n: tw for reader talking about their dad being dead (sorry pops) & thankyou darling kay (hausofmamadas) for the gif <3

Your idea of nice and his idea of nice are two whole different things. Not to say it isn’t a nice place, you know, it’s cute, but it isn’t nice nice, in the fancy kind of way. Which is probably your own fault for letting so many hotshot advertisement guys take you out and getting you used to it—and that’s no good at all, cause all they wanna do is impress you into sleeping with one of them, and all Johnny wants to do is eat pizza by the slice. Apparently.

He says “they got the good stuff here” as he holds the door open and by the time you’re sitting with a pie in front of you, yeah, you gotta say, it’s a Hell of a piece. So cheesy you gotta stretch your whole arm up to get it away from the plate, and when Johnny does it, you hook a finger around the stringy bit and pull it right into your mouth. Half thieving, half flirting. You figure he won’t mind so much about that, considering how good you’re looking for him, and he don’t. He’s even smiling as you chew it up. 

“You said you work in an office?” he asks, before taking a big bite of that piece you stole from. Washing it down with a Dr Pepper too, cause this place is too family friendly for anything other than a good old fashioned soda pop. 

“Mhmm. One that does them ads in the paper and on leaflets and stuff.”

“You write ‘em?”

“I wish,” you drag out, fighting the urge to roll your eyes all the way into the back of your head. “I sit in meetings and take notes, then I sit at my desk and I type up the notes. Then I go take it to my boss and he says, ‘thanks, doll, ‘nother meeting at twelve’. Then it all goes fuckin’ round again.”

He snorts, cause you’re funny and he sees it, not like those other guys. “You don’t like it then?”

“Oh, I like anything that pays me to do nothin,” you say. “The other week, they gave me overtime to sit and watch the phone incase some big important call came through. Well, that thing didn’t ring once, not from the moment I sat down, to the second I got up. Easiest buck I ever made.”

He blows out again, laughing over the neck of his pop, and you put the corner of your own slice into your mouth. You shouldn’t talk while you’re chewing, and you don’t ever do it, promise, but you’re nearly done with the eating part when you ask him, “And what d’you do?”

Well, you’d’ve thought you’d asked him the answer to the universe from the way he’s thinking about it. You wait for him and he takes another drink, then another bite, and then he itches his jaw with the end of his thumb, though no-one ever gets no itchy jaw like that, and says, “I drive trucks.”

“Yeah? I figured riding bikes was your job.”

Johnny don’t really say nothin to that, which he does a lot you’re finding. Thinks a sort of a look and a noise like he’s saying something is a fine enough answer for anything that he doesn’t really wanna answer. Like a whole third of your conversation so far has been just that—you talking and him listening, sure, he’s good at that part, but then he hums or something and it’s right back to you talking again. 

Must be how he likes it though, cause he ain’t stopped you yet and you could talk for the whole world if they wanted you to.

“What’s your deal?” you ask, after watching him eat an entire slice without saying a thing. 

“My deal?”

“Yeah.”

“I gotta have a deal?”

“Everyone’s got a deal.” You look at him, really look at him, take all the lifelines and scars in like you never put your eyes on him before. Find yourself staring at his hands too, at the tan line there, or the missing tan, you guess, right there on his ring finger. The rest of him’s done up in that way like he’s been out in the sun too much, all except for that one little bit. The shape of a thing that’s not there no more. “You married?” 

You wanna know, and you’re not afraid of asking about it, cause if he is this is gonna be a real easy fix. You out the door, him taking the bill. 

He sighs, long and slow, then wipes his mouth with the screwed up napkin from next to him. “Divorced,” he says.

“Kids?”

“Two girls.” Which explains the pizza place. He don’t know what nice is anymore, unless you can take a kid there and make them real happy about it.

“Do they like you?” 

One of his little eyebrows tweaks up at that, then sinks again into a mean frown that you’d hate to be on the real end of—cause he don’t mean it now, he’s just prickly about talking about it. You can tell. And who can blame him, you’re asking a lot of questions in the same sort of way that your mother hates so much. No manners, she says, no patience neither.

“Yeah,” he tells you, “they like me.” Then his hand and that napkin comes waving over the table at you. “What—what is this?”

You shrug, not hiding nothin. “Just getting a look at you. Figuring you out.”

He sniffs. Nods. “You gonna go and type all this shit up later?”

You’re thinking he means it like a dig, like you should feel some type of way about the sort of person he’s accusing you of being, but it’s got you smiling still. Cause he’s talking now and with real character too. “I might do. Been a while since I heard something really worth typing up.”

“And what’s yours,” he grumbles, pissier than usual, “what’s your deal that everyone’s gotta have?”

“Dead Pops,” you tell him, and you say it so quick that all the attitude drops right off of him. 

His head shakes—just the one time. “What’s that mean?”

“Well it means he’s six feet under, Johnny.”

“No—why’s that…you didn’t like your old man or something?”

“I liked him fine. Just never saw him enough and then he went and died before I could make it up to him.”

For some reason, he nods like he gets the feeling, but his eyes are all of a sudden shy of looking at you, like you might be upset at him for asking in the first place. You think the noise he makes is him trying to say sorry, or passing on his condolences, but no man you ever met has had any kind of manner when it comes to being sensitive, so you figure that’s the best he can do.

“He was from round here,” you say, “that house of mine was his first, you know.”

Another nod.

“Thought coming back would help me feel like, I don’t know, like I was connected to him or something. Like it might make me feel a little less lost.”

Then his eyes are up again and he don’t look so scared of upsetting you no more. “Did it work?” he asks. “You feel better now you’re here?”

You hum a little, like you need some time to think up the answer that’s been screaming at you since you unpacked the very first box. “Nope.” You shake your head, real sure of it. “Turns out, it just makes you fuckin’ lonely, living in a dead man’s house.”

He lets out a big long breath at that, like he’d been holding it in, and you get to smell the cigarette he smoked half an hour ago, right in front of your face. “Yeah, alright,” he says, “that’s a Hell of a deal.”

You smile. “Now you’re gettin' it.”

He points at the empty bottle in front of you. “You want another one?”

On all them other dates, this is where you’d say no thanks, I’ll take a ride home and an early night, if it’s no bother to you. And every time, all those other guys would be very bothered by it, might even make you pay for your half and a cab too, but not one part of you wants to find out what Johnny’d say to all that. You don’t want another pop and you don’t wanna go home neither. For all his quiet, and his funny ways—like he don’t always look like he wants to be talking to you—you’re finding him awful good to be around.

Makes as much sense to you as it makes no sense at all, but sometimes it’s just like that. People you can be yourself with, you know. People who make you wanna be so much like yourself, that it makes you feel all crazy about it. 

So you tell him that, in a sort of a way. You say, “I’ll be honest, Johnny, I’m feeling like something a little stronger,” and he smiles real big at that.

_________

Then you’re in another bar, and it ain’t the bar you said you didn’t wanna be in, but it is a bar that’s full of Vandals still.

Well, not full, guess you could count five of them if you wanted to. Six including Johnny. And they are all hanging about in that one back corner, while you and him got a standing table somewhere in the middle, so you figure he’s not really broken his promise all the way. Just twisted it a little. Plus with the noise of the place, you can hardly make them out above the rest of it, so you set your eyes on him and forget about them. Who knows, right? This whole town could be swarming with those biker guys, but you ain’t never noticed it before cause you ain’t never noticed him before, and that’s not exactly his fault, is it? 

He’s standing real close to you too now, to the one side of you, instead of opposite like in the pizza place, and you can feel the heat coming off of him like fire. Like those big ones in your Grandpa’s house at Christmastime. All flame and soot and crackling warmth that you wanna put your hands into. 

Something about it makes you a little erratic, makes you blurt out another question with even less manners than usual. And it’s a real mood killer too, “So why’d you get divorced?” you say. 

You asked him that, you really did, and while he’s thinking about how to take it, you drink down half your beer in one big stinking gulp. If your mother could see you now? Jeez.

“You really gonna ask me that before I’ve even…?” He points to the beers, well his beer, cause yours is still in your hands like you’re scared he’ll take it from you. “C’mon,” he says.

He’s got a point, sure, but also you been here a minute and it don’t seem like it’s your fault that he hasn’t taken a drink yet. Too busy smoking one of them cigarettes again, and smirking at you like he finds your dumb mouth all kinds of charming, when he should be judging you like a real gentleman would. 

“You don’t gotta tell me,” you say, shrugging with it.

“Hm.” Another answer without answering—and this time, it kinda sorta bothers you.

He puts the smoke between his fingers, to take a long sip of his beer, and you find yourself reaching across to take it from him. Not a smoker, but you can smoke if the company does, you know. Which happens to be a lot at work, cause those office guys go like chimneys when they’re thinking, on and on and on, until the room’s full of the stuff. And then you don’t even need to have one yourself because you’re puffing it as much as they are, right, but it’s nice to feel included still.

This time, you’re only doing it to give you something to do, and give him something to look at while he thinks so much about all the things he don’t wanna tell you. Which seems to be doing the trick just fine.

“Didn’t work out,” he says, right when you think he’s over it, didn’t work out. “That’s all it is.”

You tap the ash off, feeling him stare as you take a drag and blow it away from him. “Well if your girls like you still, that must be most of the truth.”

“Nah, that’s it. That’s the whole truth, nothin’ else.”

“Alright then.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

He’s getting antsy, prickly all over again. “I believe you,” you tell him, looking at him all serious like, his face right there next to yours. “Marriage is a crazy complex thing, right? I guess I always assume it takes more than ‘didn’t work’ to put it to bed, but if you say yours didn’t, then it didn’t. Who am I to know?”

He doesn’t nod or do nothin, he just squints back at you and says, “Were your parents divorced?”

You laugh, and it’s sort of rude, cause it’s right in his face. Probably felt the gust of it straight into his mouth. “There you go, treating me like a kid again,” you explain, and he frowns like he don’t get it. Funny, all that wisdom in his big old head, and he can’t seem to work out what you mean. “You figure I couldn’t be old enough to have a marriage of my own? Had to ask about my parents instead?”

And you got him, caught him with his hands all red, cause he gets fidgety with it. “Well have you?” he asks.

You pout to hide your smirk. “No.”

Then his frown is swapped clean out for a laugh, and that smile that you’re sorta growing fond of. “So, just cause I didn’t know that about you, yeah, I’m treating you like a kid, am I?”

“Yeah.” You’re leaning in real close now, shoulders touching and everything. “I would’a liked it if you thought I could’ve had a marriage, and a divorce, just like you, Johnny.”

“Ah, right. Alright.” His head dips a little, and he’s looking all over your face like he’s hungry for every word you ain’t said yet, his voice in almost a whisper. “So how was your divorce?” he asks.

“Oh, awful.” You flash your eyes big, so dramatic. “He took everything I had—and all ten of the kids.” 

He hisses with his teeth, really playing along with it. “That’s a mean fuck right there,” he says, and if you’re honest, you kinda wish you weren’t lying for a sec, cause hearing him say something like that, real ex-husband or not, it kinda does something to you. Makes you giddy in a teenage way. 

“That’s what I told him,” you say back, but you don’t sound serious no more, you’re all breathy and quiet like you’re losing your guts. “Lucky we’re both single again, huh?”

“Lucky," he says, “yeah.”

Boy, you could’ve sworn the whole place went still. Every noise fell away like you were the only two people in there.

And he’s looking at you in that way, the eye contact, you know, in that real eatable way that makes you want take him home right now, or better yet, right into the bathrooms at the back of the bar there. But that’s crazy talk. That’s really real crazy talk. That’s the kind of thing you regret when your heads pounding the next day, and you don’t remember how that tap shaped bruise got onto your asscheek, never mind wether or not you’re seeing the guy again.

So, being good about it, you move your eyes from the door to the group of guys you been ignoring this whole time, and you ask him, “So when are you gonna introduce me to your little friends?”

He goes like a statue—minus his forehead, of course, that thing scrunches up like he lost you for a minute and he’s having to really squint just to see you again. “What I gotta introduce you to them for?”

“They’re your family, ain’t they?”

He holds his hand out, and it takes you a second to realise he’s asking for the cigarette back, the one that’s nearly gone, burning away in your fingers still. You give it to him, half thinking to apologise for wasting it, but he just plops it right back into his mouth like it’s nothin. He gets one pull out of it and then smushes it, dead, into the ash tray. “S’a lot, for a second date, no? Meeting the family.”

You laugh almost. “You counting last night as the first?”

“I’m counting pizza as the first,” he says.

You can’t help it, you’re still smiling at him, and blushing a little too. “Something bout that feels like you’re cheating me outta what I deserve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” he says, all careful like, “we can count this whole night as the first, if you want, but I don’t bring first dates to the club either.”

“Fine.” He wins. “Then let’s call this one the second, whichever way you wanna look at it, and I still wanna meet ‘em.”

“Nah. Not—not today.”

For the first time in your life, you don’t feel like pushing until you get what you want. He’s still messing with the butt of that cigarette, spinning it round and round in the ashtray, so you figure he got a reason behind that skull of his, and a good one too.

Well, you’re willing to pretend like he might, anyway. 

“Okay. How about some names then? So I know who to picture when you’re telling me your stories.”

His lip quirks up. “You wanna hear my stories?”

“Oh, all of ‘em.” You nudge him, elbow to elbow, and drop your head onto your shoulder, in that real cute way that makes your hair bounce, just to look at him. “Please, Johnny?”

He lets go of the smoke with a sigh that doesn’t really mean what he wants it to mean, and crosses his arms on top of the table. “One on the lefts Corky,” he says, nodding that way. “Then Wahoo, Cal, Cockroach.”

You follow his direction, all good and quiet and listening, and put the names to the faces as best you can. Only then he stops and you have to poke him, “And that tall movie star on the end?”

He waits like he’s thinking about it. “That’s Benny.”

“Just Benny?”

“Yeah. Just Benny.”

But that don’t make no sense to you, cause all these guys are never just anyone, unless they’re someone important, you know, everybody’s got something in a club like that. “He don’t got some funny name too?” you ask, and Johnny shakes his head. “Why not?”

“Cause he don’t need nothin—he’s just, some people are just…” He shrugs, screwing his brows a little. “He’s just Benny.” 

“And you’re just Johnny.”

Who’s just humming in reply now, saying yeah without using his words cause he don’t need to, and you keep letting him be about it.

“Well,” you start, now that neither of you are looking at those Vandals no more, “what name would you give me?” 

He doesn’t even try. “I dunno,” he says. 

“C’mon, Johnny. I know you know, if you thought about it, you probably named all those guys.” Minus Benny. Just Benny.  

He groans like you’re really troubling him by asking for it and reaches for another smoke from his pack. “Let’s see,” he says. Now he’s thinking. “I guess, something short.” The lighter flashes by his chin then goes away again in a snap. “Something like Lips.” 

First time he’s left you speechless. Really cotton mouthed and speechless. “Lips?” you repeat, and you hate to say it, but you’re almost squeaking. Lips?

“Mhmm.”

“Why’s that?” you ask him, more serious now than you have been this whole time, so close that you could burn your nose on the end of his cigarette. “And don’t say cause they look nice.”

“Even if it’s true?”

You laugh like you can’t believe it. “I don’t care if it’s true, that’s not the answer.”

This guy, he has the nerve to smirk like he’s winning, and he shouldn’t be doing none of that until he can give you a real good reason. “Alright.” He lifts his shoulders a little, all innocent like, with the smoke snaking up between you. “Then it’s cause you, you know, you…”

“Yeah?” You nod, pulling it out of him. “Go on.”

“You like to talk a little, you know.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Yeah, you do.”

And you’re not offended but it keeps going like you are, with a laugh stuck behind your teeth. “Always going on, am I?”

He smiles, easy like he’s not even got to try no more. “Got some real lips on you,” he says. 

You snort, big—so attractive, puffing it out your nose like that—and set your head on your hand. Elbow going right into some sticky spill of God knows what, too. “I don’t know if I hate it, or love it,” you tell him. “Feels like an insult and a compliment all in one.”

He points with his smoking finger, but not much cause he knows how close you are, just like you know how close he is. So aware of it, it’s making you breathe funny. “That’s how you know you got a name,” he says. “Half the guys, yeah, they hate what they get called, but no-one ever says anything about it.”

“Well we know I will,” you tell him, and then you’re both laughing. Real close, real warm, laughing like you’ve known each other years, not days—and Hell, it ain’t even that. You guys only just hit the twenty-four hour mark. It may be the most successful date-slash-dates that you’ve ever had, and it’s not even over yet. You don’t even have the guys full name or number.

“Your beer’s going warm, you know.”

Oh. You haven’t even touched it, or thought about touching it, since you started that whole thing about his divorce. But his own bottle goes up and back, then down again, empty, all while you’re watching him do it. So you push him yours after, letting him finish that one too. 

“You better get me a new one, then,” you say, while his lips are on the end still, cause you haven’t had enough of him yet. “Unless you wanna take me home?”

He stops for a second, half-way about to leave with a money clip already in his hand, just to look at you with a sort of smirk, sort of curious thing in his eye. Then he says, all low and cool with it, “That code for somethin?”

Well, you feel like you made a monster. He’s starting to get all sorts of familiar and now you’re him, you’re the wolf in that damn bar. 

“No,” you say, sounding like the liar that you sorta feel like you are, “it’s whatever. I didn’t say you’d be coming in now, did I?”

He laughs out his nose and nods like you said everything he wanted to hear, though really, you’ve got no idea what he wants from you. No other man you’ve ever said that to has cared to ask what you mean by it, even if you wanted it to be something or not, they always assumed it was meant the way they wanted it to mean, but not Johnny. Johnny looked more scared by the idea than he looked excited. Like he thought he was about to have to let you down all gentle like, slow and careful so your feelings didn’t get hurt. 

“I’ll get us some more,” he says, leaving for real that time, and his hand’s on your back until he’s too far away for his fingers to reach. 

It’s only when he’s gone that you figure he must’ve told all those guys to ignore you and him, just like you’d decided to ignore them, cause the second he’s gone they’re looking right over at you. Wahoo, Corky, all of them, but not that Benny. He either don’t care or hasn’t noticed, and for some reason or another, that makes you like him the most. Only one of them that can keep his eyes on his own nose and outta your business. The rest are bold enough to stare like you don’t see them, even talking and laughing the way boys do when the teacher goes for more chalk.

You try not to care but it’s starting to really itch. You’re rubbing your arms like they’re crawling all over you. 

“Here."

And Thank God he’s back. You take the beer and drink it like you’ve had nothing but sand in your mouth for days, which makes Johnny smile like you’re crazy, but you keep going. “That family of yours got no manners,” you tell him afterwards.

He doesn’t even look. “Yeah, yeah they’re like that,” is all he says about it. What a hero, right? He takes a sip of his own drink then wipes his lips dry with the back of his hand, and he catches you staring at him, but he says nothin about that neither. “You doing anything on Friday?” he asks.

“No.” Then you’re smiling and forgetting all about the rabble in the back. “Well, I wasn't until right now, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He nods. That’s exactly what he’s getting at. Seems like he’s thinking to take up your whole calendar, one day at a time, and you’re not feeling like doing a damn thing about it. Go figure.

_____

part three >>>>>

tagging: @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas @hoodeddreams13 @businesscalamity @literally-lani

[perfectlyoongi]

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who has matching socks with you. Jin liked socks; and if the socks were colorful or had interesting patterns, Jin loved socks. so, as proof of his love for you, Jin would buy matching socks for you and him, innovating in colors and patterns, making it his personal mission to find the most extravagant socks. “guess what! today i found some socks with cows on them! and they are spotted like cows! of course i had to buy it for us. we need these socks.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who watched every episode of totally spies with you more than three times. Jin still remembered coming to your house at the end of high school classes and watching two episodes of totally spies before diving into his studies. in a way, that series brought back to Jin memories of the comfort of your couch and your laughter; as such, you and Jin constantly got lost in the series’ episodes, rewatching your favorite episodes more than six times, the remaining episodes being replayed two, three times. “today everything went wrong. i’m so tired... do you mind coming over to the house so we can watch totally spies together? i really need you and this comfort.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who always brings you a dandelion when he finds it just so you can make a wish. when the petals had turned to hope, Jin was quick to pluck the dandelion and carry it carefully to you. the elders said that each hope of the dandelion brought with it the power to make a person’s most complicated dreams come true. as such, the first thought that popped into Jin’s mind when he saw a dandelion was how you deserved your dreams to come true. so, with a proud smile and shining eyes, Jin held out the dandelion in front of you and asked you to close your eyes, blow and make a wish. “look, look, look! a dandelion! quick. make a wish. i’m sure the stars will hear you today and bring you the happiness you deserve!”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who has a polaroid of you on his phone case. the photograph was old and a little out of focus. against a dark background that you couldn’t recognize, Jin took the photo at the right moment when you were going to start laughing. in a fluke of the universe, Jin had found the perfect photograph. you were simply beautiful. it was your natural beauty that shined through in that old photo, the memories of that dinner in the park making Jin smile every time he picked up his phone. you were beautiful and Jin loved you — he would never part with that photo. “until i take a perfect photo of you again, this one won’t leave here. i like you too much to keep you away from me.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who sends you a photo of pingu on all your birthdays. you didn’t know why, Jin didn’t know why, but every year, on your birthday, accompanying the heartfelt message that Jin wrote to you, there was always an image of pingu. it was a small tradition that had come about somehow and it seemed strange if Jin didn’t send it to you. so, every year, in contrast to all of Jin’s kind words, you always received a pingu who was too involved in his adventures to notice you. “happy birthday, my little pingu penguin. first of all, i want you to know that my life is only bright because you are in it. if you knew…”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who plays tic-tac-toe with you in the fogged-up window of the bus. on the coldest winter nights, when you and Jin would snuggle in the comfort of the bus, Jin would always start a game of tic-tac-toe in the window. never winning you, but not losing to you that often, Jin made that bus trip something interesting, even if only mere minutes had passed. “it’s today that i’m going to beat you and that’s a promise. if i win, you’ll have to cook for me today. those are the rules.”

BEST-FRIEND!JIN who says that the answer to the question ‘what is love?’ is you. ever since he met you it was love. sometimes disguised as curiosity, sometimes bordering the line of friendship, what Jin felt for you was always love. so it was only logical for him to answer that age-old question with your name. so many years spent by your side, knowing all your facets and secrets, Jin didn’t see any imperfection in you that wasn’t worthy of being loved. for years, you were the answer to all of Jin’s questions and it was only now that he was able to confess to you. “whenever people ask me what is the meaning of love, my mind always runs to you. to our memories, to your person, to you. and i think it’s not a simple love of friendship that exists in me. i’m sure i love you.”