#this whole thing is gonna make so many people go BACK into the closet

[chimaeraonwards]

i dont think the 1975 understands that what they did last night will probably put the lgbt movement in malaysia back by like 20 steps.

its already so hard for us to talk about it and help people understand but now all they will be thinking about is how this concert had a man kiss another man in a drunken stupor.

while im glad that for many people around the world, they are able to live freely and love who they love. but this is not the case for us living in places where it is illegal and punishable by law.

im not saying that i think the law is right or just. but i am saying that we do what it takes for us to survive.

and most of the time, surviving means loving quietly to live another day.

(if you think 1975 getting banned is harsh, think about the potential backlash a queer person might face here)

ALSO to the people who are not from Malaysia or South East Asia in general, not everyone here is homophobic, so stop grouping all of us together like that. its easier for you to make comments saying that the whole country/region is homophobic but that isnt true.

we're here.

listen to us.

[solaarbeeam]

MAKE THAT SIX — FURIN FIRST YEAR SIX

TYPE — RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

SYNOPSIS — a look into your relationship with the furin first year six.

CHARACTERS — sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, kiryu mitsuki, tsugeura taiga, and sugeshita kyotaro

A/N:: i’d like to formally thank callum for getting the brain juices flowing cause DAMN i got SHIT TO SAY abt these five. ALSO!! nonnie if u find this, i did it <33 also! reader ks a member of bofurin, and is gender!neutral

— SAKURA HARUKA

— Oh my lord I’ve got a whole bunch of shit to say about this one.

— Please help this poor man out, he’s stressing over this so much.

— He’s already been voted grade captain, told that he’s formally trusted by the top dog of his school, and now he gets a significant other? He’s gonna break soon honey, if he hasn’t already.

— Expect that he has an issue with you getting hurt in fights even though you are a formal member of Bofurin and he has seen you fight long before the both of you got together. He knows you’re good at it and you can take care of yourself. He’s just a very worried softie :(

— Made Kiryu teach him how to use his phone in order to text you more often, even if you do see each other every day.

— Friendly spars! Fighting gives him joy and he’s a happy camper when he sees that you enjoy the sparring.

— Doesn’t know much about being a boyfriend but he always shares food with you even if you don’t ask for it.

— Lowkey ashamed to be out in public with you because of how he looks. He doesn’t want people looking at you weird because of him.

— Thought you were pranking him when you told him you loved him. He very much ran away. You had to go and chase him down for two hours to get the point across.

— Avid sleepovers at your house! He has the most peaceful sleeping face. Your wallpaper on your phone is him sleeping peacefully against one of your pillows.

— He absolutely screeched when he saw it too, by the way.

— Has major separation anxiety because of how he grew up. He needs you to be in eyeshot or somewhere he can easily find you.

— Has his location on all the time because why wouldn’t he? This man is loyal.

— Is the type to let you wear what you want because in his mind, you’ll just beat up whoever it is who’s bothering you. He’ll jump in if you want to jump them too.

— Nighttime walks. Even better when the stars are dotting the skies. It’s peaceful, and it makes him feel like he’s doing a good job with the whole boyfriend thing.

— Tugs on your Furin Jacket when he wants your attention.

— You absolutely sneak other clothes into his closet. His lack of opinions and choices are very concerning to you.

— Aquarium dates! He really likes sea life a lot and it’s cute to see him blushing from awe at all the dolphins and fishies!

— You have attempted to beat up his foster parents when they came through Makochi once. You, unluckily, didn’t get to because Suo and Nirei pulled up with the rest of the first year to run them out of town. He cried in your bed because he never thought people would care about him like that.

— His wallpaper is you and him holding hands on one of your night walks.

— Has let you put makeup on him before and let me tell you, Sakura Haruka is the prettiest man on the planet.

— You like to call his eyes pretty a lot. Like gemstones. No matter how many times you tell him, he still violently blushes and hides his face.

— The Grade Captain of Class 1-1 has a significant other, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world. No matter how much shenanigans you get into.

— SUO HAYATO

— Hm. The teasing gentleman. Let’s see..

— A certified back hugger. Mans does not care about PDA. If he wants to hug you, he will.

— Teaches you about his style of fighting sometimes, even though you fight similarly to Kiryu.

— Lets you wear his tassel earrings when you ask for them. He thinks they look adorable on you.

— He was so tempted to show off at the Tournament with Shishitoren just so you can see how good of a fighter he is.

— Will rant about tea flavors, although he doesn’t classify it as ranting. You do though, because that’s what it is, and it’s adorable to see him tall about the differences between flavors.

— He can’t cook for jack shit but let me tell you, that man can bake. Best believe you are a pastry taste tester for all his little baking experiments.

— You have absolutely pranked him with Natto in his food. This was the first of rare times you will ever catch him off guard.

— Beach walks. On the sand, on the coast line. That’s all I have to say.

— Can absolutely ballroom dance. He has ballroom danced with you at his house and is absolutely hoping you and him are forever so he can ballroom dance with you at your wedding.

— You sit on top of his desk at Furin whenever you can’t find a seat and drag it over.

— Absolutely almost flipped Tsubakino over because he thought he was trying to flirt, even though the both of you are first years. He was just caught off guard! All poor Tsubakino wanted to do was compliment you :(

— Kisses the back of your hand, similarly to princes in most modern royal media.

— Once again, this man does not give a flying fuck about PDA. If he wants to kiss you in front of the person taking your order at a fast food joint, he will and what are they going to do about it?

— Your wallpaper is him sitting on beach sand in the sunrise.

— His wallpaper is you doing something stupid. What can I say, he’s a tease. To himself, he’s a genius.

— He’s saved as Leonardo Dicaprio in your phone, for shits and giggles.

— Does the sidewalk rule expeditiously, even if your reflexes are better than most.

— Keeps his hand on the small of your back once you’re in big crowds

— Do all of us a favor and never team up in a fight, because the result? The opposing fighters are the finished.

— Assuming that under his eye he has a grotesque injury, you have very much kissed that injury senseless. Keep doing it, it makes him feel all warm and gooey inside.

— You baked gingerbread cookies together for Christmas. Umemiya came to raid them soon enough though.

— His mother loves you.

— Has already given you a promise ring. You wear it around your neck to prevent it from breaking while punching someone in a fight.

— If (more like WHEN) you get married, you were the one who got down on one knee and proposed to him. It was the closest he’d been to crying ever.

— Newsflash, he did cry.

— Will sling you over his shoulder no matter how much you weigh to assert dominance. He’s just a cheeky little shit.

— NIREI AKIHIKO

— GIVE MY BABY THE ASSURANCE HE NEEDS, OKAY??

— Okay but all jokes aside, reassure this man because he feels like dead weight to you all the time and he doesn’t want to be.

— Has a special page in his notebook just for you! Well, it’s more of a section really..

— He’s a cuddle bug. Give bro a bed, some blankets, a decently sized pillow and one order of you and it’ll be the best cuddles you’ve ever had.

— Texts you pictures of all the animals he sees when he’s doing solo patrols with Suo and Sakura.

— Your wallpaper of him is him petting one of the dogs in the neighborhood.

— Is the type to claim that you can and will beat someone in a fight whenever a non-Furin person claims they can fight.

— Do not, and I mean DO NOT, play tag with Nirei. You will lose. That man is a trackstar.

— Wash Day is your day, okay? That mam can and should be a licensed hairstylist. He will leave your hair looking gorgeous no matter what type you have from 1A all the way to 4C.

— His name in your phone is Pookie Bear. He died when he saw it.

— Your name in his phone is Heartie with multiple heart emojis after it.

— Lets you wear his hairclips and necklaces. He’s got too many to even comprehend.

— His love language is words of affirmation. You will never feel insecure with this boy (in his mind, that’s his job)

— Feels bad for forcing you to protect him all the time in fights but he’s always there to patch you up after.

— Speaking of patching up after, make this man a doctor as well cause the way you will NEVER, and I mean NEVER get sick when this man’s around is absolute.

— Is the fun fact king and will send you random, silly fun facts about anything and everything, it’s so cute.

— Amusement Park dates. Need I say more?

— He will share his food without asking. He wants you to try!

— His wallpaper is a collection of polaroid photos of the both of you after a Carnival Date.

— Nose kisses!! All day every day!!

— KIRYU MITSUKI

— Matching PFPs with you on every gaming platform you can think of. Is matching pfps with you on social media as well.

— Lets you pick out the piercings he wears during the day.

— You play with his Furin Jacket sleeves because their always drooping to a degree.

— You stare into his eyes as a pastime because they’re so??? gorgeous???? He has most definitely blushed because of it.

— Both of you are speed-based fighters so having the both of you tag team an opposing side is lethal work.

— Teasing. He’s not as bad as Suo but we’re not going to sit here and say that he’s not a tease.

— Makes a point to match with you when it comes to outfits to some degree, even if you don’t have the same style or taste.

— His wallpaper is you leaning back in a chair at Furin, with the sunrise hitting your face just right.

— Your wallpaper of him is him playing one of the many games on his phone.

— Speaking of phone, he has a separate album in his phone that’s full of pictures of you doing absolutely anything and everything.

— Is the type to egg you on into versing him in a game knowing he’s better just to see you get all pouty when you lose. He thinks its cute until you legitimately crash out.

— You’re in his pinned on his phone.

— Most definitely has a moodboard of the both of you, mostly shenanigans the both of you would get up to, but the rest of it is legitimate sweetness.

— You are saved in his phone as ‘My Player #2’. I don’t make the rules, you just are.

— Boba!! His favorite kind of dates are when you go around trying different foods and drinks. He’ll always get your favorite eventually though.

— Buys funny shirts on purpose to make you laugh. He also buys funny hoodies and puts them in your closet on purpose. That’s right, you don’t even have to ask.

— Lets you paint his nails. He’s a pretty princess, all he needs is to have it shown on the outside.

— Also lets you use his hair clips a lot! You and h have matching ones you wear with designated outfits.

— Matching phone cases on the month of your anniversary. I know I’m talking about matching a lot, but I think that matching with your significant other is a very Kiryu-coded thing to do.

— Karaoke nights with him are the absolute best.

— TSUGEURA TAIGA

— Yall. I have feelings about this one.

— Uses kisses as motivation to continue on with his workout routines. Yes, if you slide under him while he’s doing push ups, he will kiss you.

— Is a weighted blanket personified. In winter time you can and will be cozy.

— Love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch. However, he’s aggressive with the words of affirmation, the opposite of Nirei.

— Piggy back rides all day every day. Doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re around. As long as he’s got two arms, shoulders, and some upper body strength? Piggy back rides.

— It’s literally canon that he wears shorts in the winter. Do with that what you will.

— Gym couple gym couple gym couple!! Instagram and TikTok love them some of you two. You set weight-lifting goals together.

— Unstoppable Push and Immovable Force-coded.

— Most definitely asked what your aesthetic and virtue was when he first met you.

— You and him are often called the parents of the group because he’s the oldest first year.

— Intertwines his legs with yours when hand-holding isn’t an option.

— Gives you his bandanas after he’s washed them because he thinks they make you look so cute.

— His wallpaper is his arm wrapped around your waist in the gym mirror after a difficult workout.

— Don’t get hurt in a fight, please. He knows you can take care of yourself but that man is a brawler-coded fighter so pray for whoever managed to catch you off guard.

— He knows how to rollerskate so he’ll take you to roller skating rinks as dates! The rinks that he picks out always have the best food too.

— He canonically wears shorts in the winter, but sometimes he does to purposefully annoy you or get your attention. It works, but he’s being adorably stupid.

— I personally think that he would have you saved as your nickname, but it a cutesy way. He doesn’t see the point in making it elaborate when he can show you how much he loves you in real life.

— Is also a manhandler but most of the time it’s not on purpose. He’s just a very excited overgrown puppy man and sometimes he can’t tone it down, give my baby a break, okay?

— Charm Bracelets!! Whenever he works out, he takes them off because he will feel the absolute worst if they break. You will not be able to console him.

— He smells like tropical fruit by the way. It’s very pleasant, he blushes every time you tell him you smell good.

— Is also an avid sidewalk rule follower. In public, he’ll put one arm around your shoulders.

— Eventually the both of you get manipedi’s together because what’s the point of him having his dogs out all the time if his toes aren’t done?

— He is a TDI junkie and absolutely believes the theory that Chris MClain slowly loses his sanity throughout the show, and that Izzy was actually raised in the forest where Camp Wawanaka resided. You have heard and witnessed enough rants for several lifetimes.

— Is a huge fan of the goth duo from The Ridonculous Race because they apparently remind him of Suo because of how nonchalant he is. You cackled when he first told you.

— SUGESHITA KYOTARO

— If I’m going to be honest, him and Sakura are in the same boat in the sense that they do not know how to boyfriend.

— But it goes a little like this.

— He’s touch starved to no end so you have to fo at your own pace with him. Sometimes he’ll lean in, sometimes he’ll stand away at a certain radius. He loves you, you just gotta be patient.

— He doesn’t have preferences for anything, as stated in canon, so you often take him out so you can find his likes and dislikes and his absolutely no-go’s whatsoever.

— He, like Tsuge, will not save you as anything really special or cutesy in his phone because that’s what you have him in real life for.

— He fell in love with you by realizing that he gave more of a shit if you got hurt while fighting than the rest of the first years, Anzai included.

— Remember when I said that Nirei should be a licensed hairstylist? Well, Sugeshita over here might as well be the god of anything that has to do with hair.

— He has matching hair accessories with you too. It’s subtle, but he likes it that way. It makes him happy.

— Umemiya is practically his dad, just know that Umemiya approves.

— Only lets you play around in his hair. He does NOT play about his hair, lemme tell you that right now. It’s a sign of trust.

— Speaking of fighting, he prefers protecting you than to you fighting with him or beside him. He knows it’s somewhat wrong, because you’re not a member of Bofurin for nothing, but he has enough confidence in himself to protect you.

— It also makes him feel better about being a boyfriend, he doesn’t want to let you down in any way, shape, or form.

— You paid for his hair treatment once for his birthday and he actually almost cried.

— He is saved in your phone as “Kyo 🩷”, yes, he did lash out but it was very much adorable.

— Bought the both of you those matching Pandora puzzle necklaces. He flicks it at people in fights to assert dominance. He fiddles with it a lot with soft expressions. He loves you a lot, okay?

— On that note, sometimes the both of you absentmindedly flick your pendants at the same time as a way to say “yes, they’re mine, and yes, we will both beat your ass” on some telepathy thing.

— You took him out shopping till you dropped for his birthday and he almost cried in the middle of the restaurant.

— Lets you style his hair all the time. Half up-half downs, full ponytails, braid backs, and very rarely, he’ll let you curl his ends.

— He’s besties with the other first years because you pushed him to get some social interaction in. However, he’s an introvert and antisocial at heart so you know his social battery can only take so much.

— Matching hoodies. That’s all.

— His wallpaper is you in one of his graphic hoodies. He was super-duper happy about it. He really is a softie at heart.

— Doesn’t like traditional stuff all that much so instead of a regular date at a restaurant for Valentine’s, he did a rooftop date.

— “Why do I have to be like everyone else? I’m gonna be different.” - What he told Tsubakino.

— Is a sucker for bear hugs. Please bear hug him, he will melt like chocolate.

— Loves getting his hair brushed. Please do it for him. He’ll melt even more.

— He’s a biter. He bites to show love. He’s a chewer. Let him chew.

— Obsessed with self-care so he’ll make days for the both of you to do it together. Sometimes it’ll even be a date, especially when both of your individual products and the products you share are almost finished.

© solaarbeeam 2024.

[courtingchaos]

Feast

Pairing: Eddie x Reader x Steve, past Eddie x Steve (set in my Line Cook Eddie AU)

Word Count: 9.8K

Summary: It’s a Graveyard Lake House Smash 🎃

A/N: When I tell you Woof, I mean WOOF. I don’t want to tell you all how long I’ve had this sitting in the crockpot. It’s surprising it didn’t turn to ash. Instead I got this! Struck by what I can only describe as mania I was able to finish this and edit it all with the help of @jo-harrington . Now I have many many MANY people to thank for this even being an idea for me to play around with and I won’t fill this page up with a bunch of tags. Those of you that were there for its inception know and that’s what matters. Talk about a fucking labor of love. I pulled this out of my own viscera, I hope you like it ❤️ (Also, reference is made to the fic Strawberry if you guys want to go look at that smut too, but it is not needed.)

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine, weed), Drinking, DVP, Unprotected sex, Sex while under the influence

NSFW 18+ No Minors

“Oh this is cute.” The flyer invite is bright orange and full of Eddie’s little doodles.

“Yeah? You like it?” Eddie leans over your shoulder. “Made it all by myself.”

“You even signed it, look at you.” You grab his chin and give it a wiggle before he plants a kiss on your cheek.

“Obviously we’re invited. I’ve got my costume all planned out already.” He heads into the bedroom and misses you pulling a face.

“Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I won’t be there.”

His head sticks out around the doorframe, “What?”

“Yeah, too many requests off. I gotta close.”

“Okay? You’re off at what, 9:30?” Eddie waves you off before disappearing in the bedroom. “I’ll pick you up and we can be to Steve’s by 10, 10:30. Piece of cake, piece of crumb cake.” He does his best Father Guido from inside his closet and it makes you laugh.

“I’m gonna be tired, Ed.”

“And I’m gonna have weed.” He reappears with a different hoodie on.

You huff. “I don’t have a costume.”

“I’ll find you one.”

“I hate bagged stuff!” You aren’t really arguing with him, just pushing his buttons enough to see where his exasperation will take him. It sends his arms over his head while he goes headlong into all the costumes you could put together with the shit in your own closet.

“So no bagged stuff! You could pull off a Nancy Downs or a Sidney.”

“Will you go as Stu?”

Eddie stands like he’s upset with you, arms crossed and voice dropping low for a moment. “You know damn well I’d have to go as Billy. Plus,” he flits his hand beside his face, “like I said I already have my costume.”

“You won’t tell me?” You don’t even fake your pout. “I need help with an idea! Come on!”

“It’s a surprise!” He shakes your shoulder and when you don’t stand he hauls you up by your hand so you can finally run errands for the day. “Look, when we’re done at the store I’ll help you dig through your shit and piece something together.”

By store he really meant every shop in town with a Halloween section and only a quick run into a grocery store for mac and cheese. One of your last stops is at a Party City where you’re staring at the wall of masks feeling a little dejected. Halloweens haven’t felt fun in a while and this one was shaping up to be just as disappointing. You’re eying one of those big articulated scarecrow masks when Eddie comes bounding up to you with a clutch of cellophane in his hands.

“I figured it out.” Is all he says before practically skipping back the way he came, right into the latex and spirit gum section.

“Ed I don’t want to do a whole thing, especially if I can’t wear it at work.”

“No this is easy shit, it goes on like a temporary tattoo.” He holds one of the thin packs up against your face before shaking his head and tossing it back on a hook. Another one he’s been clutching skims your cheek and his eyes light up. “No this is perfect.”

“You gonna let me in on this little secret?” You crane your neck to see what he has. “Is that a pentagram?”

“Do you still have that cheer skirt?”

You think you might know what he’s getting at. “The black and red one?”

He nods his head and picks up a packet of ‘fresh’ colored blood.

“Yeah.” And with that he’s off down the aisle again, beelining for the color coded tailgating section.

“If they have them in stock—hell yeah.” He holds up a red and a black pompom. “Cookin’ with fire now.” His grin is infectious.

“You know I don’t have any costume contacts, right?”

Eddie’s ‘pshh’ is so self assured. “With this it won’t matter.” He points at the pentagram transfer. “See? I told you I’d figure it out.”

In the small bathroom at work you feel only slightly ridiculous.

It’d been a few Halloween’s ago that you’d worn this skirt and now it’s a little more snug, sits a little higher on your thigh and hugs your stomach a little tighter. The cropped tee doesn’t leave much to the imagination and the thigh highs feel a little like overkill.

It’s cute, objectively. You know it but you still spend a little too much time staring at the back of yourself as best you can, making sure your whole ass isn’t out on display. A soft knock on the door reminds you of your faithful coworker waiting on you to finish up so they can run off to their own plans.

“Sorry, one sec!” You shove your work clothes into your tote bag and give yourself one last hard stare. “You’re gonna be fine.” You say with some finality to your reflection, black press on nail tapping on the glass.

Outside Eddie sits in his truck, idling next to your car and you take your sweet time strolling over to him. His eyes glint in his side view while the rest of his face stays obscured and you wonder just what costume he’s put on, right until you catch the tilt of his head and you see what sits there. Your pace quickens and you have to hold the hem of your skirt down when you all but run across the parking lot, stopping at his open window to stare at him wildly.

“Oh no, you did not.”

He most certainly did.

The cigarette clenched between his fangs glows in the dark cab, shimmering lips pulling into a smile around the filter. “Do what?” He asks like he has no idea what’s on his body. The run of chains around his neck clink and catch the light of the street lamps. From under his curls the tips of pointed prosthetics peak out, gold rings pierced through the latex. The matte red body paint lays in a thin layer on his face and just barely down his neck, his chest on full display under his barely buttoned black shirt.

“Not the Bard.” His hands glint with more rings than normal, jeweled gold he’d picked up at last year’s Ren Faire. You catch the black claws stuck to his nails and he laughs at your shocked expression.

“What’s wrong with my Bard?”

You gesture wildly at his whole being and you haven’t even started to look up at the horns on his head. Long red ones that curl against his crown, gold chains dripping off the curves. Painted bands shimmer just like the gold on his lips and you almost open your mouth to cancel your plans.

Eddie clicks his tongue at you like he’s read your mind. “Hop in quick, it’s like a 45 minute drive.”

You huff, hands still anchored on the window while you gawk at him. His make up is perfect, his clothes thrown on too easily. There’s a smokey scent that lingers, something not from his cigarette, and you wonder if he got into your perfume oils; Incense and wood fire swirling around him. He taps your knuckles to get them off his door and when you go to walk around the bed of the truck he just whistles at you, nodding his head towards the hood.

“No no, give me a little preview.”

You almost don’t give in. The doubt is trying its hardest to claw up your back but you ignore it and let the headlights cast your shadow on the building. Eddie’s delighted laughter rolls from his open window and when you get into the truck his hand finds the exposed swath of thigh above the socks.

“Told you it’d come together.” A firm squeeze and a straying pinky when you twist around to set your bag in the backseat, the soft pads of his fingers grazing higher under the hem of your skirt.

“You like it?” You sound a little unsure, like he wasn’t the one to lay the outfit out for you to give your seal of approval. It isn’t like you need his constant validation but it feels nice to let him ogle you every once in a while.

“If I didn’t have promises to keep I’d be taking you straight home.” He leans in toward you, careful of all his pieces and face paint, lips close but just out of reach.

“The quicker we get out there, the quicker we can get home.” You try to bridge the distance but Eddie pulls back, another sharp grin aimed at you.

“You should finish your makeup before we get there.” He taps the glove box before leaning back into his seat. “I saved you something for the ride over.”

He keeps his hand in place the whole way to Steve’s. Even when you pull out the joint he rolled for you, in the fun striped papers you’d shown him weeks ago. You relax and try to get your eyeliner done first before you’re too high to care and when you’ve finally put your bag away Eddie becomes your sole focus.

His hand might stay firmly planted but yours don’t. It starts off easy enough, plucking at his necklaces and pendants, letting them fall back on each other and clink. A twist of a ring on his free hand and pulling at the bracelet warmed by his wrist. You run a light finger along his pointed ear and you don’t miss the slight shiver that runs down his neck.

His neck.

You drop that hand and trail the tip of your fake nail over his skin to pull up goosebumps, carefully avoiding smudging any paint. He lets you drop a peck or two but he’s serious about not messing up his makeup, “at least not yet.”

Since you’ve been denied a treat, you pull lightly at his collar so you can nibble on his shoulder. Fingers trailing down the wide open valley of buttons, your other hand dancing across his lap to scratch at the seam of his jeans.

“You’re terrible.” He admonishes you but it’s all for show, if he was serious about you taking your hands off him he wouldn’t have grinned at you like that.

Halfway out of your seat and draped over the center console is how you spend the last half of your drive, an earring between your teeth while you distract him just enough to swerve a few times.

The lake house emerges along the horizon suddenly, almost like you’d been distracted by the button on Eddie’s jeans. The gravel crunches under the tires down the long drive and orange, green and purple string lights help direct you to the actual house.

Steve’s family’s lake house is a mimic of a rustic cabin, one big peaked roof and a massive back deck that wraps around the side. It looks like someone pulled a giant A-frame directly up out of the ground, Halloween decor and all. You stare up at it surrounded by trees, the big windows flashing intermittently with light, music thumping dully out into the sleeping nature.

“Whoa.” Actually you loose all focus of what’s in Eddie’s pants as you finally grasp the size of the property and the crowd outside.

“See? Could have missed all this if we’d just gone home.” Eddie parks and unbuckles himself so he can twist around carefully for the bag in the back. “Now sit still, I gotta put your pentagram on.”

That pulls your attention back to him, especially when he sets a water bottle down first. He peels the transfer apart and you watch him silently, lulled by a full work day and the haze of weed. He’s right, it does go on like a temporary tattoo and when a drip of water falls between your breast you giggle.

“Making a mess already?” You hold the edges of your cut up collar away so you don’t get it stuck and Eddie just shakes his head.

“Are you gonna be like this all night?”

“Do you want me to be?”

Eddie’s hand is flat against your chest to hold the prosthetic in place so you know he feels the uptick of your heartbeat. It’s close and cozy in this cab, close enough that you can see the corner of his mouth twitch and the crinkle of his light crows feet. His eyes drop from your chest to your cleavage and you lean in a little more, push your arms in a little tighter.

“Can I have a kiss?” Whispered just between you two. “Since I’ve been so good tonight.”

He hums, lips pursed, and checks on your pentagram instead. The paper lifts and his hand moves away and you follow him, lips leading to the golden shimmer you’ve been eyeing. It’s quick but it’s what you wanted, just a little more of his attention on you.

He huffs when you pull away. “See this is why I wanted to wait.” His thumb rubs against your chin and he pulls it back to show you the smear of red. “Now you’re marked.”

You think if you can crawl into his lap right now he might abandon this deal tonight. He looks at you from under hooded eyes, eyes that linger on your bare skin. There’s a moment when he takes a deep breath you think you can maybe break him with a well placed purr of his name but—

“Eddie!” The rap of knuckles on the window makes you jump and with it the spell breaks. Robin is waving at the two of you, grinning wide and unknowing of what she’s done. “You guys look great!” Her voice is muffled by the glass so Eddie opens the door and starts his personality up for the show.

You figure out that Robin has gone as Weird Barbie and you love it, especially because she’s obviously a few Malibu and Pineapple’s deep and she keeps you slung close while she directs you and Eddie around.

“Jon and Nance are Beetlejuice and Lydia.” She points in a vague direction of the house where you see neither of them. “Lucas and Max couldn’t make it because they’re doing the ‘parent thing’ obviously.” Her air quotes almost make her spill her drink and Eddie takes it from her with a sigh.

“It’s not even midnight yet, Rob.”

“Hush! I don’t actually know what the hell Dustin is, I think it’s a chemical compound.” She says out of the side of her mouth, gesturing at Eddie to give her a sip from her solo cup. “Will is an amazing Orville Peck, he made his own mask! The fringe is so long!”

You laugh at her pointing at meaningless areas, no one being where she thinks they are.

“And where’s our host?” Eddie asks, scanning the heads outside.

“Oh he’s been so lame. You know, he slapped a name tag on an hour before the party and called it his costume?” Robin looks so disappointed. “I offered to make him a Ken three months ago and he acted like I’d insulted him.”

“Well what’s he wearing? I’d rather him not blow up my phone.”

“Black hat, backwards like an asshole. Red sweater.” Robin drops you off at the doorway into the cabin and snatches her drink back from Eddie. “Name tag says ‘God’.” She leaves you with a heavy eye roll before slipping into the masses.

A quick schmooze around the open downstairs and you’re finally left to your own devices, drink secured in your hand.

“Now don’t go running off without me, okay?” Eddie puts a stern finger in your face and you snap your jaws at it. He ignores you. “I’m serious, meet me up in the loft.” He points the same finger upwards and you nod wordlessly. “Hopefully this shouldn’t take too long and we can go hang out on the dock.”

You frown. “It’s kind of cold out.”

“Oh no.” Eddie waves his hands at you, feigning being distraught. “I guess we’ll have to cuddle, oh no!”

You flip him off as he walks away and he blows you a kiss and immediately you begin timing him to see how long it will actually take him.

You don’t recognize anyone here. Maybe a few people from Stacy’s, some of the line cooks and waitstaff, but no one you can start a conversation with that wouldn’t end up feeling awkward. There’s the obvious close friends of Eddie’s but even they aren’t as known to you and even so, you’ve spotted them chatting with other people already. You sip on your drink and you sigh and resign yourself to waiting it out.

Leaning on the bannister of the loft you look down and spot Eddie animatedly telling someone something, his jewelry sparkling in the flashing lights. His voice carries sometimes, even in a party like this and you watch him with amusement. It doesn’t take long to loose him though and you pull your phone out to distract you, just before a flash of maroon catches your eye and you turn to find Steve looking surprised with two cups in his hands.

“I was trying to sneak up on you, how did you know?”

“I bet you’re one of those guys who doesn’t say ‘behind’ at work, aren’t you?”

“Oh no, I learned my lesson there.” He sets the drinks on the bannister and pulls up his sleeve to show you a silvery scar near his elbow. “That’s where I took a parring knife around a corner, I don’t fuck around in there anymore.” He laughs.

“Was it Eddie?” You ask like you already know the answer but Steve shakes his head hard.

“No, some other dude but Ed did yell at him for walking around with a knife held out in front of him. ‘What are you trying to do, shiv him?’” He puts on a face that you correctly guess is an imitation of an angry Eddie.

“Aw, did he look out for you?” You reach out and pinch Steve’s cheek and he swats you away, his ears flushing a bright red.

“Speaking of, where is he? He has my weed.”

“I don’t know, I lost him in the masses.” You gesture at the crowd below just as the music and lights change, making it darker and harder to make out a detail.

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed. My high is wearing off and there are too many people I don’t know here.” You finish off your drink and Steve is holding up one of his cups to replace it. You raise an eyebrow in question and he just swings it at you so you’ll take it.

“I saw you up here, thought I’d bring you a drink. Didn’t know how long you’d been here.”

Something about his expensive smile always makes you want to giggle. You know that he’s aware of his charms but even then you can’t help how easy he makes it. The flattery is always there, especially if Eddie is around, and if you didn’t know any better you might have the sneaking suspicion he was flirting.

“All by my lonesome?” You shake your new drink at him and he rolls his eyes.

“Not like that, I brought two in case Ed was up here.”

He’s always flirting actually, you think it might just be an integral cog of his makeup at this point. You’ve seen the way it slips into the most innocuous conversations with Eddie, though he’s always trying to banter.

You drop the sly accusatory look and shrug. “Good luck. I was told to stay put till he came back.”

“Or, and hear me out, we could go find him together.” He says it like it’s the best idea he’s ever had and honestly? You look around at the sparsely populated loft and check the time on your phone, noticing you’ve already wasted half an hour doing nothing.

“I’m in.”

An hour of wandering and you haven’t run into Eddie again. He didn’t ditch you, far from it. You know your blood covered boobs and incredibly short skirt wouldn’t leave his mind but you do know he how he loves to talk. Someone must have gotten him on a kick and he’s been passed around through groups, his storytelling making bursts of laughter float up from different corners of the party.

“Did he really tell you stay upstairs?” Steve asks, shouldering through a group with a short wave.

“Yeah, but he looses track of time at parties. You know how he is.” You’re a few drinks deep now so any annoyance has burned off, especially since Steve has been nice enough to walk around with you. The view from behind while you followed wasn’t bad either. It makes you smirk and you hide that in your drink, your wandering gaze following his long legs.

One more inside lap before you both stop at the kitchen island covered in bottles to top up and Steve finally calls it.

“Wanna go sit outside?” He nods his head towards the back deck. “Quieter.” He heads for the wall of windows where people filter out to sit by the water. You weren’t kidding earlier when you said it was chilly and you really hadn’t thought to bring a sweater with you for some reason. Steve notices you hesitate though and seemingly understands. On his way to the door he lifts the seat of a bench up and pulls out a blanket.

Water laps at the deck softly and the chatter dies down finally, the music a distant thump and you feel a little sober taking in the fresh air. Steve holds up the corners of the blanket for you and when you don’t immediately move in he shakes it at you.

“I’m not gonna bite.”

“Aw, really?” It slips out before you can catch it. To Steve’s credit he takes it in stride, barely breaking a grin when you finally snatch the blanket from him. He digs around in his front pocket for a moment and pulls out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. There’s one already tucked behind his ear and you’re about to remind him when he holds up a slim joint.

“I know this is a sad offering, but you want?”

As if on cue there’s a peal of laughter followed by a big splash and you step closer to Steve on the dock to get away from the rippling water. “Jesus, please.”

He eyebrows twitch up and he points lazily at the name tag. “Actually it’s God, but same-same.”

He pulls two Adirondack chairs together and you slide back into one remembering to keep your knees together so you don’t accidentally flash Steve. He holds the joint out to you with his lighter and you gasp theatrically.

“And a gentleman at that!”

It takes a few strikes to get the beat up bic to light and you can feel Steve staring. At first you think he’s judging your lack of finesse but when you go to hand him his lighter his eyes snap up from your legs, a tight smile flashed at you before he holds his hand out to take the joint back. He keeps the conversation light, he tells you about what this lake house used to look like and how much his parents sunk into it to remodel it. He makes small talk seem fun when he frosts his words in charm and you remember the last night he’d been particularly plucky with you.

“I.D.?”

“Steve it’s me.”

“Can’t trust it, gotta see I.D.” He shrugs and holds out his hand and gestures at you when you don’t make a move for your wallet. There’s not even a hint of a smile on his face and you wonder if maybe he’d gotten in trouble for giving you so many free extra pours.

“Okay, okay fine here.” Behind you Eddie is deep in conversation with Jeff about switching a shift and hasn’t noticed the third degree yet. When you finally get the plastic slipped out of your wallet Steve snatches it and leans back with it held up close to his face. He studies it like he’s never seen you or an I.D. before and he keeps flicking his eyes back and forth between it and your face.

A nervous grin breaks out of you when the situation isn’t changing. “Steve? Did I do-“

“There it is.”

“What?” You laugh through your confusion.

“I just needed to see that smile.” Steve hands your card back and slides your drink across the counter with an easy grin.

The high is returning and with it the questions that slip easily from your brain and straight out of your mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

It takes Steve a moment to tear his eyes away from the surface of the lake where it reflects the string lights. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Remember a few weeks ago when you did the thing with my I.D.?”

His eyebrows scrunch together hard when he tries to piece together what you’re saying. “Your I.D.? Did I loose it?”

You flap your hand at him to try to get him to remember. “No no, the smile thing.”

“Oh!” It dawns on him, his glassy eyes widening. “You like that? That’s one of my better ones.” He seems proud of himself for a pick up line.

“Were you just trying to piss Eddie off or do you just flirt with everyone?”

“Honestly?” Steve scratches his chin lightly, staring back off into the lake’s glassy surface. “I really like messing with Ed. He trusts you so I like to push his buttons.” He shrugs. “Also I do flirt with a lot of people, it gets me good tips.” His laugh makes his eyes crinkle and it makes you think of Eddie.

You take a break to find the bathroom, and to scan for your boyfriend, and when you come up without him you grab two beers from the massive cooler and head back outside. Steve seems a little more alert than when you left him and he points to a space under the deck where two people are cloaked in shadow.

“See that?”

You lean your hip into Steve’s shoulder to balance yourself as you squint, two things becoming harder to do especially together. It isn’t until a wig gets tugged off and both of you gasp, finally realizing that Robin has found a different Barbie. She tugs at Robin, hauling her towards the boathouse and Steve starts laughing.

“Should we help her or…?”

“Nah, she’ll find me in the morning.” Steve sighs and runs his hand up the back of your thigh.

Hm?

You run that feeling through your cotton stuffed brain again. The back of your thigh, the part that is so very bare and just under the hem of your skirt is hot, skin sticky where a palm sits now. It’s wide and a little rough and his fingers give a quick squeeze to the fat there and then proceeds to sit still. You move slowly, your head dropping down to stare at Steve’s easy posture.

“Steven?” You ask slowly.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you with not even a twinkle in his eye. If he were to move his thumb just the slightest bit up he’d be grazing the cuff of your ass and you wonder if he can even feel the sudden heat rolling off you.

“What’s that you got there?” You don’t break eye contact with him.

“Something soft.”

The giggle escapes before you realize it and something in Steve’s features shifts into what looks like pride. You don’t forget where you are so much as you take the bait and turn towards him, leaning down so you’re close to his face and can see the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“I think,” you whisper and cast an exaggerated look around, “you’re tying to get a rise out of someone.”

“Oh?” His cheeks flush, just a tinge of pink that catches your eye.

Steve’s head goes back with a tug of his backwards cap.

“Harrington.” Eddie makes his grand reappearance, seemingly stepping from the shadows to stare down at Steve who stares up in dumbstruck awe.

You’d noticed horns approaching when you’d leaned down and maybe it was the combination of liquor and weed but something bold had taken over, especially when you knew you had Eddie coming to swoop in.

“Finally finished your rounds? I’ve been waiting.” Steve asks your boyfriend, who keeps the bill of the baseball hat between his knuckles.

“You finally finished feeling up my girl? I’m waiting.”

You don’t expect that, the warmth in his tone. The little chuckle, the joking grin. Something about Eddie taking this on the chin makes you pay attention.

“Oh what’s a thigh between friends, huh?”

You can hear the edge in Steve’s voice now, the push to Eddie’s pull. That palm stays firmly planted on you while the two men stare at each other. It’s like they’re speaking in silent code, cats flicking their ears to get their point across. Eddie seems to give in first with a small shrug, letting go of Steve’s hat though his head remains lolled back to stare at the red demon above him.

“Is this imposter bothering you?” Eddie gestures at the peeling name tag stuck to Steve’s sweater and you think about it, honestly.

Where you are right now, is it bothering you?

The hand cradling the back of your thigh, is that bothering you?

The way Eddie seems to be reading your mind, his eyes bouncing between your own and the smile you just realized is warming up your face, does that bother you?

“No.”

This feels like earlier in the night. A heavy hand anchoring you to the moment. A little buzz from your warm high. You’re listening to Eddie smooth talk Steve but all you want is something tactile. Eddie crouches down so he’s eye level with Steve and they lean into each other to conspire, you’d know that look on his face anywhere. It’s one he’s shot you over countless drinks and through crowds and at dinner with friends. He’s got his mind set on something.

He’s too far away though for you to absently run your fingers through his hair so you grab the next best thing. The fringe sticking out from under Steve’s hat is so soft when you rub it between your fingers. Little flips of sun bleached brunette that curl up under the brim and around your finger, twirling between your press ons.

“How is your hair so soft?”

Eddie tilts his head just as Steve slowly turns to look at you with a confused smile. “I spend a lot of money on conditioner.”

“What’s it made of, spun silk?” You drag your nails up the back of his head and he shivers.

Eddie looks downright gleeful. “I told you.”

“Told him what?” Distracted by Steve letting his head fall into your palm you miss Eddie shooting his friend a look.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks suddenly. “You still wanna head out?”

“No.” You scratch Steve’s scalp and watch him melt down into the lounge chair. “This is fun.” His hand finally sides down to wrap around your thigh, holding you against him.

“Well Steve has told me something very interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s got a little surprise I think you might enjoy.”

“Oh?” You grab a handful of hair and give Steve a light tug. “Did you bring me a gift?”

“It’s for all of us, actually.”

2 am and the party continues outside the heavy door to Steve’s bedroom. No one blinks an eye when you pull Eddie through the doorway minutes after Steve disappears in there. Not even a knock when Eddie kicks it closed and spins you around to face him.

“You sure about this?” He asks quietly, walking you backwards into the room.

“Absolutely.” You grin, nodding at him.

“Positive?” He holds your gaze to make sure you know he’s serious. Your hands clamp around his face and you pull him in close.

“Yes Eddie.”

Steve’s solid chest bumps into your back, the sweetness of his cologne bursting around you.

“You got it?” Eddie looks past you to ask Steve.

Steve huffs. “Yeah I got it.” He moves around behind you, digging something out of his pocket and his knuckles drag over your ass before his hand appears around you with a little twisted bag between his fingers. “You wanna do the honors?”

“Oh please, it’s your party.” Eddie plays with the hem of your skirt but he watches Steve untwist the bag. Eddie gives you a peck when he catches you trying to turn your head, pulls at your hips to make you face Steve and that self assured grin is present when Eddie holds you still.

“You ever done this before?” Steve asks when he holds up the baggie, eyes dropping to your lips.

“Uh, once. Didn’t really like it.” You watch him work while Eddie stands behind you and runs his hands right up under your skirt. He laughs into your neck and his breath slides under the ripped up collar of your t-shirt. “I don’t think I was with the right people.” You stare at Steve while he dips his index finger into the powder.

“You’ve never done this together?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers for you, his face peeking into your periphery. “Strictly a weed and liquor household, like god intended.” His laugh sends a zap through you, slowed and tingly against your current high. “Isn’t that right baby?” His hand sneaks up under your jaw where his fingers press into your cheeks making your lips purse and part slightly. When Steve’s fingertip grazes your bottom lip you open wider and both men laugh.

“Eager.” Steve says before his finger pushes past your lips and rubs down the side of your gums. The taste is an immediate bitter tang followed by the salt of his skin and you grunt quietly, closing your lips around him. “You’re telling me she’s not a natural at this?” Steve looks past you to Eddie, ignoring you tonguing his finger.

“Not with coke, but she’s real good with things in her mouth, aren’t you?” Eddie’s hand runs down the front of your throat and you hum in agreement. Steve’s finger pops out of your mouth and dips back into the powder, swirling around while he watches from half lidded eyes Eddie kissing along the back of your neck.

“One more.” He promises with a smile and when his finger dips into your mouth again you start to feel the tingle along your gums, something that dances up along your cheeks and zips through your hairline. It fights against the sluggish feeling of the weed and lights up a part of your brain that was trying its best to stay focused through the liquor. Steve is eyeing Eddie while the latter pushes up your shirt, an exchange again made through glances. Steve barely gets his finger out before his mouth is on you, his tongue pushing past your lips to chase your new high.

He’s so warm everywhere. His lips against yours and his chest pressing in and his hands that go right for your jaw those long fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck that give you a shiver up your spine and Eddie must feel those goosebumps when they sprout, they appear so fast and right under his lips and—

“Hey,” Eddie says, turning your head to the side “take a breath.” He breaks your kiss and you whine at the missing warmth of Steve’s soft mouth. “Yeah I know.” He soothes, running a thumb down your cheek. “You still gotta breathe.”

You roll your eyes and take a deep, dramatic breath to show him you still can. Beside you Steve sniffs off the back of his hand before he attaches himself to the side of your neck. His tongue trails over your pulse and Eddie holds your gaze and your chin before he leans in to kiss you.

The coke makes you less hazy, takes the soft edge of the weed and brings it into focus. The feel of Steve’s lips moving up your neck and Eddie’s fingers around your chin. His tongue in your mouth and his other hand slowly tugging up your skirt and Steve’s big palms running up your sides. You can hear the thump of the music outside that feels like it’s trying to keep up with your heartbeat.

There’s a hand pulling at your shirt, pulling it over your head and a hand running up the side of your neck and you hold onto the front of their shirts. You have the distinct feeling of floating while you get pulled and pushed and somewhere in the flurry of caresses you whine into Eddie’s kiss.

A break of lips on your skin and Steve’s shirt hits the floor and then your skirt is getting pushed down to meet them. The strappy set you’d picked out last minute, with all its crisscrossing bands over your hips and across your chest, form a rude arrow between your tits to guide their eyes.

Eddie stares and runs a fingertip under one of the bands to snap it. “Special occasion?”

You don’t answer him, too busy trying to get at his buttons to get his shirt off too. Those tattoos sing at you to be seen and you want to see the starkness of Eddie against Steve’s sun kissed shoulders.

Behind you Steve slides a hand up over your bra and the other down your spine, his lips on the back of your neck. It takes you a second to realize he’s trying to get you to the bed but Eddie notices and changes his stance. He knows how to move you around when he wants and he grabs you around the ribs to give you a push. It’s like all your other games now especially when Eddie starts to follow you back as you shimmy towards the pillows.

The clink of a belt buckle reminds you that Steve is still here. He holds out the baggie to Eddie. “Before you loose track.”

You notice it then, the lack of inebriation in Eddie. Sure he’d been a little toasted from the drive but while he made his rounds it seems like you and Steve were the only ones drinking.

“Actually, come here.” Eddie takes the coke but stops crawling toward you, instead sitting up on his knees and motioning for Steve. “Let me try something.”

Steve can’t get out of his jeans fast enough. He almost trips in his eagerness and Eddie uses it to his advantage. Steve’s flipped on his back with a laugh and all you can do is watch, fascinated with whatever Eddie has planned.

“Do you remember that time we all came up to see you play in college? Like all of us, I think it was the game you tore your shoulder.” Eddie looks down at Steve getting comfortable and throwing his arms out to the side. “That party the night before? What was that girls name?”

“Becca.” Steve says, shifting his gaze to look at you. “Stupid college fling.”

You nod wordlessly and start trying to unhook your bra without moving much. Eddie laughs and holds the baggie open so he can dip his finger in.

“Ah, Becca. She broke up with you the night before a championship game dude. That was cold.” Eddie acts like he’s swirling candy through sugar the way he twirls his finger around but the way you and Steve watch him it might as well be. “Remember how like, no one could find you in the morning? They thought you had gone off and drank yourself stupid over a girl, but where were you again?”

Steve just laughs but you want to know, you want to be in on the joke. Like most times it feels like Eddie hears your thoughts and he turns those big eyes full of mirth to you.

“He was actually passed out in the back of my van, naked.” Eddie gestures at Steve wearing only his boxers and smiling up at him. “This kind of reminded me of that.”

Eddie hovers over Steve, finger ghosting over his lips. “Open.” Steve’s grin splits and Eddie’s claw disappears behind white teeth. Dark ringed eyes flick up to find you where you’ve gone still against the pillows. He looks unbelievably wicked in this room, the gold shimmer on his lips barely mused from kissing you. He must have tossed the small fangs earlier but his mouth still poises danger while Steve sucks on his finger.

You finally find the momentum to drive off the pillows and over to the two of them just as Eddie follows his finger in with his lips. Steve lets a soft moan escape before Eddie covers his mouth with his own, gold staining pink.

You drop your shoulders mid crawl to stretch your hand into Steve’s hair again. You run it through the roots while you stare at them kissing, Steve groaning in the back of his throat when you pull.

“Like that?” You whisper so you don’t break their spell and Steve nods as he looks for something to hang on to. His fingers catch on your bicep and in Eddie’s hair and he’s anchored, hips rolling up into nothing while you tug on the crown of his head.

There’s a little bit of time that seems to slip away from you. One moment you’re watching Eddie take Steve apart and the next he’s moved you again, his arm slung around your middle to pull you flush against his chest, your underwear clutched in his fist, your thoughts soft

Steve watches Eddie’s tattooed hand slide gently around the front of your neck and he knows he’s in trouble. It’s both of you really, not just Eddie, driving him insane. He tilts your head back onto his shoulder and smiles down at you with what Steve thinks is pure adoration. When Eddie shifts his attention to Steve there’s a swooping low in his abdomen at the thought of being let in on whatever this is.

“Wanna help me out?” Eddie tilts his head toward you and that’s when Steve realizes that both you and him are fully naked. Clothes shed in the fast moments between kisses and yet Eddie still has his jeans on. Steve could break out his machismo here, could challenge this and let it be over quick and fast and typical or he could let the reigns go for a night. He thinks about letting himself not be in charge as Eddie moves above him while nudging you forward, knees straddling his hips and before he knows it he’s almost fucking you.

“That feel good baby?” Eddie’s teeth glint in the low light when he bites lightly at your cheek and leaves another mark of red and gold. You laugh breathily and nod your head, pushing your hips down just a little and the head of Steve’s cock pushes in. Both of you gasp and Steve thinks he feels a tear escape. The immediate wet surrounding him and the little display Eddie is putting on above him goes right to his balls and for a moment he thinks he won’t last past this. Eddie’s other hand trails down your stomach, fingers seeking further and further until they reach your bush and the gold rings distract Steve for just a second before they sink into your folds.

You crumple and slide down his cock further and Steve is trying to be respectful, as respectful as he can be, but he’s testing his own limits. A swift buck of his hips and he’d be home.

“I think you should give Steve a break, he looks like he’s loosing brain cells.” Eddie keeps you pressed to him, head lolled back and mouth open and panting, hips searching out his teasing fingers on your clit. “C’mon, give it up for Stevie.” He fake pouts at you and then turns it on Steve.

“Fuck you Ed-“ He’s cut off by the fall of your hips now seated flush against him. Everything about you is warm and wet and soft and amplified. His hands fist into the sheets beside him in an attempt to keep them to himself for the first time tonight, an attempt that Eddie calls out.

“You can touch her Steve, she isn’t gonna break.” He demonstrates this by digging his fingers in a little around your neck and you squeeze around Steve in response. “You want him to touch you, right?”

“Please.”

“Oh, she’s asking so nicely.”

Steve tries to think back to the first time he ever made a passing comment about you and wishes he could kick himself. He’d gone into this night with one other threesome under his belt, some half met happenstance from ten years ago. It’d been sloppy and messy and he’d bent the two girls around to his will but this? He’s unprepared. Any and all of his personal history with Eddie should have given him some kind of clue, but the two of you really are nothing but a flashing red light of trouble.

Your knees dig into his sides while one hand ghosts over his abdomen, looking for purchase. Eddie still holds you close but keeps his eyes on Steve, a suggestion in his gaze.

“Go ahead.” Eddie purrs and Steve finds himself lost in more than just his high. If he didn’t know any better he’d be convinced of his friend’s true nature, a pest of a demon hellbent on driving Steve certifiably insane. However he finds his hands running hot over your thighs and up your sides, over your stomach and under the swell of your breast. Anywhere he can run his hands over the soft skin you’d kept barely hidden all night, skin that he’d been staring at.

Eddie chuckles when Steve finds a nipple, a fierce pinch to it making you gasp and roll your hips and Steve can’t help himself anymore. He grips and thrusts up to punch a sharp moan out of you. Eddie’s fingers stay buried in your cunt and splayed across your throat to keep you pinned to his chest. Steve’s immediate fast pace makes you bounce and he’s transfixed when Eddie sneaks a finger into your hanging mouth to hold your jaw open.

“You should hear her.” He drops a kiss to the corner of your mouth before letting go, lowering you to lay on Steve’s chest. A whine comes from you, a deep sound that pitches up when Steve shifts to hold you in place. He already sits so deep but when he winds his arm around your neck to hold you close you gasp. You can feel Eddie move on the bed, can feel his hand run over your ass, can feel the brush of his suddenly freed cock along your inner thigh. Steve adjust you so your cheek is flat against him and pulls at your hip to spread you open for Eddie.

“Fuck now isn’t that a pretty sight?” His thumb is rough against such sensitive skin when he glides it around your cunt. You try to move your hips as much as you can but the angle you’re at only affords you short rolls of your hips.

“Oh you can do better than that for Steve, can’t you?” Eddie teases and you whine into Steve’s chest.

“He’s being mean isn’t he?” Steve whispers to you. They both laugh at your groan but Steve shushes you, palm rubbing over the back of your neck where he holds you down. “I’ll be the nice one then, huh?”

Struck dumb by the feeling of Eddie pushing forward ever so slightly, all you can do is nod. He tilts your chin up to hold your gaze, his pupils blown out wide and dark and you wonder if yours look just as big.

“Can I—“ Cut off by the feeling of something cold dripping on your ass you almost sit up out of Steve’s grip before Eddie giggles a quiet apology and tosses a little bottle of lube over the side of the bed.

“What do you want?”

“Coke.” The zing is fading and you want to feel it again. The race of goosebumps across your bared flesh. The tingle over your scalp as Steve’s finger glides along your teeth.

Eddie laughs and reaches over to grab the bag and hand it to Steve, tasking him with your request. Still held in place, Steve brings his finger, wet now and dipped in white again, back to your mouth. His finger rubs your gums again and the head of his cock nudging deep and the feel of Eddie’s pressing where Steve already is and you don’t know how much more full you can get. It’s a stretch just with Steve but the insistent pressure from Eddie, the feel of his cockhead popping in makes your breath catch. He’s being careful, just so careful but that need to feel everything and move and moan takes over again and Eddie puts a heavy hand on your back.

“Breathe, baby.”

Instead you whine, held between two solid bodies that keep you still, that stroke your spine and run rough fingers into your hair to keep you from spinning out.

“That’s a pretty sound.” Steve says lowly and out of the corner of your eye you watch him hold his hand up to Eddie who sucks that same finger into his mouth.

The thought is brought to the forefront of your mind quickly, the image so clear and grounding, of Eddie sucking your purple strap. It stops the other spinning thoughts and that initial head rush fades. Against Steve’s chest you mumble about Eddie’s pretty sounds, dazedly watching Steve’s long finger pop out from between those gold lips.

“What was that?” Steve sounds a little breathless.

“Eddie makes pretty sounds too.” The images shuffle in your brain. “When I fuck him he whines and it’s like he’s about to cry or something it’s almost too much.” Behind you Eddie laughs and thrust his hips and you choke on your words, his cock pushing further in and stretching you more. Steve’s laugh turns into a hiss and the hand on your neck clamps down when Eddie’s cock rubs against his.

“Keep talking.” Eddie is breathless but still the only one not blissed out. “You gonna tell him how good I look sucking dick?” He rocks his hips forward gently and ghosts a palm over your lower back. “Steve already knows about that, don’t you big guy?” Eddie teases before leaning over you to catch Steve’s eye. The smear of gold on his bottom lip drives Eddie crazy and the laugh turned stuttered moan when he drives deeper into you makes him wish he had more than just two hands.

“Or maybe Steve can tell you about when I’d drive out for those big parties.”

You like it when Eddie’s gets mouthy. When he starts sparring to get the upper hand. You’re smiling into Steve’s chest with just the barest glimpses of Eddie above you. He rocks in and out of the corner of your vision and under your ear you can hear the rumble of Steve trying his best to keep it together.

“Remember almost getting caught in the frat your freshman year? What a bunch of dumbasses.” Eddie’s laugh has an edge to it now and your chest swells with some kind of pride that he’s finally starting to falter.

“Yeah…b-because you c-couldn’t shut up.” Steve finally speaks, his hips starting to falter the slow rhythm he’d been keeping up. “It’s why we had to mo-ve to the van.”

Eddie’s hand appears when he lays his whole body on you so he can reach for Steve’s hair to give it a tug. The change in angle and Steve’s moans cancel out any quip you were trying to cobble together, a calm instead seeping in as the coil low in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie runs his mouth but you can’t pay attention to him with the way him and Steve seem to work in tandem for a blissful moment.

It’s too much and it’s not enough and you pant and whine and scratch at Steve’s chest. There’s no more rhythm then, just the snapping of their hips against you while they race to their own ends. Steve grips you hard before he slams his hips up one last time and stills, a long groan from deep in his chest your only warning before he cums. It’s a chain reaction of Steve going boneless and Eddie cursing behind you, picking up pace and bullying that tender spot enough to make you seize up. It sneaks up on you so fast, makes you loose your breath for a moment. A leg shaking orgasm, your fingers wound tightly enough in Steve’s hair to make him hiss, all you can hear is the guttural groan coming from you and Eddie’s praise. It tumbles out of his mouth with little sense and you know he’s done in when his thumbs rub tight, fast circles on your hip before he stills.

Hearing and speech aren’t really a thing for you yet but you do grunt in appreciation when Steve seems to come to some of his senses and reaches up to pull the stupid horns off of Eddie’s head that’s resting between your shoulder blades.

“Thanks.” Eddie’s breath fans over your sweaty skin and he makes no attempt at moving yet. Someone has fingers in your hair, you can’t tell, and Eddie is rubbing his face against you and giving you little kisses along your shoulder. Steve’s breathing is finally calming down and in turn it makes you even out too, realizing how sticky you are everywhere.

“I hate to break this up,” Your voice is scratchy and small coming from between them, “but I need to go to the bathroom.”

You stumble back into the room, falling down into the bedding and Eddie slithers up from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed to leave a trail of kisses all the way up. He winds himself between your legs and drapes them over his hips and continues to leave kisses up your stomach and over the peeling prosthetic on your chest. He dots your neck and cheeks and all around your mouth before he finally gives you a real kiss. He makes you giggle with his doting and when he tries to put your underwear back on for you but the straps outwit him. Instead he tugs on the sheet beneath you and tucks in around you, leaving your clothes on the floor for later.

“Do you need anything?” He says it quietly, thinking Steve is dozing beside you. “Other than water I mean.”

You’re tired and achey and still high from various things and all you can think to ask for is: “Crackers.”

“In bed?” Eddie gives you an unbelieving look but when you just grin sleepily at him he shrugs. “I won’t kick you out.” He gets up slowly and kicks stuff around on the floor to find his own shirt when the shifting of bed springs grabs his attention. Steve is seemingly trying to sneak out of the bed without saying anything, keeping his back to the two of you while he toes his underwear over to himself.

Eddie waits for some kind for acknowledgement but when it doesn’t come he clears his throat lightly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He says it like he’s surprised that you and Eddie are still there. “I’m gonna get out of your hair…I gotta make sure no one set anything on fire and like, find Rob…” He looks around for his pants and won’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

“I’m just going to get water, you don’t have to leave. It’s your room anyways.”

“Well I’m not kicking you guys out.”

“Steve.” You don’t mean to admonish him but that’s what happens. With the sheet tucked up around your chest you pull on the slack to show the other side of the bed. “Get back in here.”

He doesn’t move, just sighs deeply and reaches for his cigarettes.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie watches you point at the empty spot with some finality and he almost tells Steve it’s in his best interest to listen to you.

“I just—“

“It’s cold. I’m cold. Get back in the bed.” You slap the pillow. “Please.”

Steve does look at Eddie then with concern and all Eddie can do is chuckle. “I’d get back in there unless you like spit in your iced lattes for the next however long.” He leaves for the promised water and Steve sits on the edge of the bed and acts like you’re making him go to the dentist.

“Hey, if you want to leave you can, I was trying to be funny.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.” Steve sighs and throws himself back onto the pillow. “You guys were having a moment.”

You pull a confused face. “Do I need to remind you what we were just doing?”

“No.” Steve laughs.

“Because I can’t give you graphic detail but I can tell you that I got pretzeled up pretty good.” You reach over to rub a hand over his chest, running your fingers through the dark curls. Eddie sneaks back in and you notice the music isn’t at the level it was when you came in here.

Around the blinds is a light blue border bleeding in and you would really like to bury your head under the covers and keep petting Steve. Eddie makes you drink water though before anyone can get comfortable, even bullies Steve into finishing his. Eddie does his normal and climbs into bed to immediately lay half on your back, his arm flung over to mess with Steve until he relents and tilts his head over so Eddie can twirl a strand around.

Tucked between the two of them you’re almost asleep when you remember something from the heat of it all and you shake with silent laughter.

“What?” Eddie asks and Steve gives you a half awake eyebrow raise.

“You know he’s a tiefling right?”

That wakes Steve up a little. “What?”

“Yeah, his tiefling bard. You called him a demon earlier and it made me laugh.”

Steve sighs and ignores your sleep talk and you try to expound but the heavy, comforting weight of Eddie and Steve’s warm chest under your palm cut you off before you even realize you’ve fallen asleep.

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love Pt. 7 💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem!reader]

TW: Cussing, angst, mentions of infertility, Elvis being ~very difficult~😠

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Hi everyone! Posting in Elvis hours again hehe. This chapter is an emotional rollercoaster so be prepared! Forgive me for putting these two through the wringer🫣 I would recommend re-reading the first chapter again because I did leave some clues of what is going to be unveiled... Hope you enjoy! Elvis needs a hug and a slap on the wrist in this chapter🤭

July 5th, 1969

Tonight was another planned dinner and you couldn’t be more excited. This means you get to see Elvis with no other explanation and if you were lucky, you’d sneak away from everyone and kiss him like he’s your only supply of oxygen. Elvis coordinated this whole dinner. After five full days of rehearsing hours on end for his show, he wanted to have a little fun and invite some friends over. You liked how excited Elvis got over things lately. It was such a turn compared to a few weeks ago when he barely liked any company, especially yours. 

John was never thrilled about these dinners. He wouldn’t sit by you and would barely look in your direction so you and Elvis always sat next to each other. You’d joke and glance at each other with longing stares that made you feel aflame. His hand would brush your thigh and you couldn’t help but inch closer to him, longing for him to keep touching you. You loved those secret moments.

It was almost time to leave and you put on some glossy pink lipstick before rushing to get your heels on. You open the door and the phone rings as you’re about to leave the house. You run back in and grab the phone.

“Hello?” You say a bit winded.

“Hi baby when are you coming over?” Elvis asks smoothly. 

“I was just about to leave but here I am on the phone with you,” you tease him.

“Well, I’m glad I caught ya then. I want you to pack some things. I want you to stay the night,” he says matter-of-factly. You almost gasp at his request. He wouldn’t dare make it so obvious that you two were seeing each other. 

“No, absolutely not. Are you insane? We’d get caught and that would be the end of that,” you say shortly.

“No one’s gonna be home tonight. Dianne won’t be here, she’s got a flight later tonight to see some family,” he explains. You grew nervous, it was still too risky. This plan of his was going to blow up in smoke.

“And what about John? You need to deal with him. He expects me to be home with him. I don’t need him to start to grow suspicious of why I hang out at your house so late,” you say annoyed.

“Let me deal with him. Just bring your things, okay?” He says low and hangs up quickly.

You grunt frustrated, you hated that it had to be his way or no way at all. But you also didn’t have it in you to fight with him. You liked him taking the lead and having his way with you. You quickly go back to the bedroom and scour the closet for a duffle bag to pack some things for the night. It was a little nerve-wracking that you’d be there all night but you knew you’d love it. You race back to the front door and put the bag in your trunk, excited for tonight’s adventure. 

*

You pulled up to the house and the driveway was already packed with cars. Some of the guys were out there waiting to open the gate for you and you quickly parked the car, rushing to get inside. Walking up to the door, the murmur of voices behind it made you a bit nervous. Elvis better be on his best behavior. There were going to be too many eyes around tonight. You couldn’t get too close to him or disaster could strike.

There were a few people at the entrance of the house and they politely smiled at you and said hello. You do the same but your eyes frantically search for Elvis. You wanted to see him, as bad as it was, you needed to see what he was wearing tonight.

You round the corner and into the living room and you stop dead in your tracks. You found him and he was wearing all black and a blue scarf that made his eyes pop. He forgoes a shirt underneath his jacket and it shows off his tan chest. You loved his fashion choices lately and not wearing anything underneath his jackets with scarves or leaving his shirts unbuttoned scandalously low. He looked absolutely gorgeous and his eyes lit up when he saw you too.

Your smile begins to fade when you realize Dianne is sitting on his lap, wearing a short ruffled skirt and tank top, twirling his scarf around her finger. Your blood boiled, you hated seeing her on him. It was stupid honestly. She was only playing a part and so was Elvis. But this wasn’t a public event, there was no need for a dramatic display of affection from the two of them. You do everything in your power to force the fakest smile you’ve ever given. Elvis probably saw right through it as you stared at him blankly. 

“Hi y/n, it’s nice to see you again,” Jerry says on your right, snapping you out of your jealousy.

“Hi Jerry, always nice to see you,” you say to him and give him a hug. 

John was sitting next to Elvis and goes to hug you. It shocked you a little, he wasn’t the type to give affection so publicly. You smell the faintest scent of alcohol on him. I guess that answers why he’s so affectionate. You hug him anyway because you want Elvis to feel the same jealousy you felt when you looked at Dianne sitting on his lap. You grab John by the face and kiss him. You felt Elvis’ eyes burn into your skin. He hated what you were doing. You loved getting the reaction out of him though.

You pull away from him and act embarrassed, “Oh hi Dianne, so nice to see you again! Hi Elvis,” you say a bit flatly. Dianne quickly gets up and gives you a big hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! I can use a girl’s company! Please sit down,” she says sitting back on Elvis’ lap and having you sit right next to him. There was a small space left on the couch and you squeezed beside him, placing your purse on the side of it and out of the way. His legs were spread open and your leg touched his. You try not to let it get to you but your body says otherwise.

“How have you been y/n? How was your day?” Dianne asks.

“Oh, it was fine. I just worked a shift at the diner and went home for a bit to relax before coming here,” you tell her.

“Oh, how nice. Do you like your job?” She asks as he continues to twirl Elvis’ scarf around her finger and rest her other hand on his bare chest. You tried to let it not distract you but you’re failing. It irked you the way he was letting her touch him. It was ridiculous of you, but it didn’t matter. You hated it and wished you were the one in his lap instead.

“No, not really, but it pays the bills in the meantime,” you joke.

“You’re an actress right?” Jerry butts in. Thank God for that, at least you don’t have to look directly at Dianne anymore.

“Yes, I am. I’m on a bit of a hiatus. Things have been a little tough and I’ve needed to take a break from it. I wasn’t getting as many jobs and it started to affect us,” you say a bit hurt.

You hated admitting that your dream wasn’t panning out the way you wanted it to. You didn’t quit the business, you were just falling on hard times and needed to make some quick money before going back out there. 

“Sorry you’ve had to take a break, you’ll get back on your feet in no time. I’ve seen some of your movies, you’re a natural,” Jerry says sweetly.

“Thanks,” you say sheepishly. It was nice to hear someone saw the potential you had. You look at John briefly and see he has this annoyed expression on his face when he’s listening to you talk about your career. It ticked you off even though you should be used to it by now.

“Maybe you can focus on other things in the meantime,” Dianne says cheerfully, “Maybe you can start a family,” she tells you.

You look at her blankly. You didn’t want to talk about this stuff with her around. She was the last person you wanted to talk about family stuff with.

“Umm, no, I don’t think that’ll be happening,” you try to deflect.

“Oh, why not?” She asks.

“It’s not the right time,” you try to shrug like it doesn’t bother you.

“Well, you never know. Blessings can happen when you least expect it,” she says as she wraps her arms around Elvis’ neck. It took everything in you to shove her off of him and get her to stop asking a million questions.

“Yeah, but we’re good. It’s not the right time to start a family,” you reiterate a bit sharply, hoping she’ll shut up.

“Oh but can you imagine, a little you running around? That would be the cutest,” she says excitedly looking at Elvis, “maybe we can try again?” She says looking at Elvis, leaning in to kiss him.

You felt like screaming at him, both of them for that matter but God that got under your skin and stayed there. Again?! What does she mean again?! You wanted to yell and scream your head off at him if he was actually having his way with both of you at the same time. You clench your fist closed and do everything in your power to swallow your pride and not say anything to him. Yet. He will get an earful from you later, you were going to make sure of that. 

“Well you have fun with that,” you say sarcastically, making sure to not look at Elvis.

“You two really would have the cutest kids!” Dianne continues to ramble.

“Yeah, that's not happening. We’d need a miracle to happen,” John mutters a bit too loudly as he takes a sip of his beer.

You feel every pair of eyes dart to you and you freeze. You stare at John in disbelief that he just said that. He looks at you as though he sees right through you. He looks at you like you’re such a disappointment. You glance at Elvis and see a look of concern. 

“What? What does he mean?” Dianne asks confused. You wanted this night to end right here and now. You were sick and tired of her incessant questions and angry at John’s drunken slip-up.

“It means I can’t have kids. It’ll never be the right time it seems and I can’t do anything about it but move on,” you say sharply and throw daggers at her. She grows quiet and looks away from you.

The room was extremely quiet and you felt everyone’s uncomfortableness as the rest of the house was loud and full of laughter. You tap your leg nervously, hating that the attention is on you and this topic. You debate whether you should just leave the room or pray to God someone changes the topic again. You were hoping Jerry would be that person again but sadly he didn’t get that memo.

“I’m so sorry y/n,” Elvis says softly, almost too low for you to even hear.

You look up at his puppy dog eyes and let your anger get the best of you. Looking at him made you more angry and hearing that he was sorry for you pushed you past your boiling point. You stare at him blankly, fire burning in your eyes as you don’t want to be around him anymore. 

You get up from the couch and try to put on a believable smile like none of this got to you.

“I’m going to grab a drink, does anyone want anything?” You ask cheerfully.

Everyone murmurs no and you see yourself out. Your smile instantly drops when your back faces everyone in the living room. You squeeze your way through the dining room where a lot of people are gathered and go to the kitchen. It's a bit quieter in here and you get to breathe and try to shake off everything that just happened. You hated how this was brought up, it made you feel shitty. You don’t know if Dianne brought this up on purpose or what but you like her even less now. 

You find champagne on the kitchen island and pour yourself a small glass. You sip the bubbly drink and try to calm yourself down before you go back out there. You suddenly feel a hand gently grab your arm and pull you to the side. You look up and see it's Elvis and he keeps walking to a side room off of the kitchen. You shrug out of his grasp and grunt frustrated.

“Elvis?! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You snap.

“I needed to talk to you,” he says.

“It can wait, let's get out there,” you say flatly, trying to push past him. 

He steps in front of the door and locks it.

“No, I’m not letting you out of here until we talk about this,” he says sternly.

“There’s nothing to talk about Elvis, let’s just go,” you grumble. 

“Yes there is,” he says as he pulls you in to hug you, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” he says gently. 

As much as you loved it when he held you in his arms, you didn’t want that kind of affection right now. You push away at his chest and feel the tears well in your eyes. 

“Elvis no. I can’t do this with you. I tried to tell you. I did, I tried. But you were too busy for me! That was the moment I realized we weren’t friends anymore. I told whoever answered the phone it was extremely important to talk to you and they said they’d go and get you but you didn’t answer the phone! I waited for hours for you, crying my eyes out hoping you’d talk to me but you didn’t. I needed you. I needed someone to go to and comfort me when I was going through this tough time and I had no one,” you say angrily. 

“God no,” he angrily mutters, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t remember-. When was this? Please help me understand,” he pleads with you. 

“A few years ago. ‘66 I believe. Everything went up in flames that year. I came to the realization I’ll never be able to have a family and things only got worse with me and John. I was losing traction with my career and not getting cast as much. It was all a mess and I had no one to talk to,” you weep turning away from him so he wouldn’t see you cry. 

“I’m sorry honey that’s awful. I wish I could have done something, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking…” he rambles. 

“Nothing. You were thinking about nothing and ignoring me like every other man in my life,” you grumble. 

There’s a heavy silence that fills the room as you can still hear the liveliness of the party going on out there. 

“He isn’t supportive about any of it? Not even empathetic?” Elvis asks gently. 

“No. And I know deep down, he hates me for it. We were having some minor problems before this happened and a naive part of me thought that if I gave him a baby, everything would be alright. But years went on and it never happened. I had to face the reality that something was wrong with me and had to move on. There’s nothing I can do about it,” you say defeated. 

“Honey I-,” he starts to say but you stop him. 

“No! Don’t honey me! You are not innocent here. What the fuck was that about in the living room? Dianne saying you guys should try again?” You say as anger boils through you. 

“Are you messing around with her and me at the same time?! You told me the whole relationship between you two was just a publicity stunt and nothing more,” you seethe. 

He sighs and takes a step back from you, “It’s more complicated than that…” he starts to say. 

“No it’s not!” You yell at him. 

“Shh, please lower your voice,” he growls. 

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do! Yes or no, are you two screwing around or was she trying to make your little story more believable by saying that.” You snap. 

His face looks distraught and he looks like he can cry too. It was a horrible sight to see. You only wanted to see him happy and full of joy. You can see he’s searching for the right words but hesitates to say any of them. 

“Yes, years ago we did. I was very unhappy with my career and hated everything I was doing. A lot like you, I thought maybe I should get married or have a baby, maybe that would make me happier? But I realized that none of that was going to make me happy and I didn’t like Dianne that way. I would be miserable if I married her,” he explains. 

You felt bad for him too, how unhappy he was like you and had nowhere to go. Things should have been different between you two. If you had talked to each other about all of this, maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone and helpless. 

“But to answer your question, no, I’m not even touching her. I want nothing to do with her like that now,” he pauses and slowly gets closer to you, “I only want you baby, please you have to believe me.” He says sorrowful. 

You don’t respond to him. You were too hurt by all of this and don’t want to be here anymore. 

“We should go out there, they’re waiting on us,” you murmur not looking at his face. He doesn’t budge and pulls you into his arms once more. 

“Baby please look at me. I’m sorry about everything,” he purrs. 

You wanted to forgive him of course, it felt awful to be cross with him but you needed space. You still hold this grudge against him that he hasn’t been there for you when he said he always would be. You push past him and quickly get out of the room and into the kitchen. 

There were so many people around, that your absence wasn’t noticed where you had been for the last few minutes. You head back out to the living room with a drink in your head. You force another fake smile as you stand off to the side as you don’t want to sit by either Dianne or John. Fifteen minutes passed and Elvis still hadn’t joined you. You grew anxious as to what was taking him so long. It’s not like he’d just leave his own house and leave his party.

After an hour or so of dealing with insufferable conversation, it was time for dinner. An extra table was brought in so everyone could sit together. Elvis finally appears from the back of the house with a stark look on his face. As usual, he coordinated it so you had to sit next to him. This was the first night you did not want to be close to him by any means. Everything was ticking you off and everyone’s dumb jokes were annoying you more than anything. 

Elvis picked up on your mood instantly and he was quieter than usual. You could feel him looking at you through the whole dinner but you didn’t look his way once. You picked at your food, not really hungry after everything that has transpired. It was only ten but you wanted to get out of this house. You were no longer in the mood to stay over or be around Elvis at all. The longer you stayed here, the worse this night could get. 

You probably should have listened to your instincts and gotten up right now but you didn’t and disaster was about to strike. 

You tune back into everyone’s conversations and act like you’re interested in what they have to say. Some of the guys were talking about something that happened on a movie set a few years ago and were laughing about it. They brought up some girls they thought were pretty and how they didn’t give them the light of day when they asked them out on a date. 

Elvis would mess with them and tease that no girls were interested in them anyway. It was light-hearted banter and it did take your mind off of the uncomfortable situation you were in earlier. One of the guys turns their attention to you and it surprises you a bit. 

“You’ve worked with Nicole, haven’t you? You know who we’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah, I worked on a movie with her. She was so nice,” you recall the fond memory. 

“She liked you too. She hoped to work with you again. What are you working on now?” He asks. 

You don’t feel threatened by the question and brush it off, it was just an innocent inquiry. 

“Nothing right now. I’m hoping to get back out there soon though,” you say hopefully. 

“You are? SInce when?” John asks a bit annoyed from the other end of the table. You stare darkly at him and try to keep your cool. 

“Yes, I do. I miss being on set and everything. That’s where I was the most happy and had the most fun,” you say looking away from John and addressing anyone else that was listening to the conversation. 

“Oh, you should have been on the set for one of Elvis’ movies. We had some wild times,” one of the guys laughed. A lot more of them laugh, reminiscing about such memories and you giggle too, you can only imagine what kind of trouble they got into on set. 

“Oh I bet you guys have quite the stories,” you chuckle, “that almost happened though. I almost got the role of Elvis’ love interest in one of his movies in ‘66 but the producers went another direction at the last minute. It sucked but whatever,” you try to say nonchalantly.

“That’s right, I remember when Elvis found out you got cast. He freaked out,” he says laughing.

“Would you shut up,” Elvis says quickly, anger lacing his words.

You were confused by all of this. Why would Elvis be so freaked out about you getting cast in a movie? You thought it would be a nice reunion in a way. It was something you always wanted to happen.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, laughing slightly thinking he was just messing with you.

“Yeah, he saw your name on the cast list and called the director right away. You didn’t know? I thought he called you to explain,” He asks you confused. 

“He didn't call me for a whole decade,” you scowl. 

“That’s enough,” Elvis hissed. 

You were baffled at what was going on. None of this made sense. Why would he act like this when he found out you got cast in his movie? Your mind races and starts creating the worst possible scenarios. Did he actually have a hatred for you for whatever reason?

You slowly turn your body to face Elvis, a slow boiling rage is once again beginning to develop inside of you. 

“Why would you call the director about me?” You say sharply, holding your breath as you look at him like you could bite his head off. 

He looks back at you with the same intensity but you don’t waiver. 

“Answer me,” you say through your teeth. 

Everyone gets a bit uncomfortable, not looking directly at either of you.

You watch him swallow sharply, clearly not wanting to speak. 

“I-, I called him to tell him I had concerns..” he says gently. 

“Concerns about what?” You snap. 

“That maybe you weren’t the right fit…” he says timidly. 

You had enough and quickly got up and left the table. The screech of your chair moving back made everyone jump and not look at you in your state of fury. You walk back into the living room to grab your keys and your purse and head for the front door. No one moved an inch and watched you storm out of the house. You didn’t know whether you should scream or cry or do both at the same time. You couldn’t believe Elvis would ever do such a thing. Especially to you. 

You start to walk towards your car and you hear excited screams of a dozen fans waiting outside to see Elvis. A few flashing lights are going off from their cameras but are instantly disappointed that it’s just you. It was going to be hard getting out of here and you get frustrated, you needed to leave and get some space from all of this. You didn’t want to give Elvis any more time to fuck up anything else. 

“Y/n please wait,” you hear Elvis say behind you. You glance over your shoulder and see he’s trying to catch up to you. The backyard gate is on your left and that’s the only place you can go to hide from the screaming fans and everyone else at this party. You quickly open it and walk along the side of the house. Your heels make a loud echo on the concrete as you storm away from Elvis as fast as you can. 

“Y/n please,” Elvis begs and gently grabs your arm to stop you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You seethe. He looks at you stunned, he’s never seen you so upset. “Why would you do this to me?!” You continue. 

“Honey I- I don’t know. I didn’t know what-, can you just let me explain,” he tells you. You could barely see straight you were so upset. 

“No, you listen to me! Do you know what you did?!” 

“I know it was wrong. I-I-I’m sorry baby I just thought-. The script was absolutely terrible and I was tryin’ to-,” he stammers.

“You were thinking about yourself that’s what was happening! How could you take something like this away from me,” you say as your voice cracks with emotion.

He grunts frustratedly and walks away from you, his hands on his hips with his head fallen down. 

“I was afraid… I couldn’t see you after all those years,” he mutters.

“What?”

He turns around slowly and his blue eyes are filled with tears.

“I knew I was being an awful person. I wasn’t writing you back, I wasn’t answering your phone calls, I didn’t even try to see you in person once I came back from the army, I knew you hated me for it all. And I couldn’t blame you. As time went on, I knew there was nothing that would have excused how I was acting. I panicked and couldn’t see you. I called the director and said I was nervous working with you. I explained there was a certain history we had and I couldn’t shake my nerves. Before I knew it, they had you recast. It wasn’t what I intended to happen. I was just hoping they would push the start date or something. I never wanted you off the movie, I just needed more time to figure out what I’d even say to you,” he admits.

“Why didn’t you say something like that then? Why didn’t you tell them you wanted me in the movie,” you ask.

“I just-, I was still afraid. I thought it was meant to be this way… to keep not seeing you,” he admits.

You sink to your knees and sit on the hard ground. You cover your face in your hands and let your tears fall. You couldn’t believe any of it. How could you be so dumb? All you wanted was to be close to Elvis again but he proved time and time again he didn’t want that.

He was afraid to see you? What did he possibly think when he agreed to hire John. Did he think that he could still ignore you? 

“That one role could have changed my life you know that? If I had on my resume that I worked with Elvis Presley, maybe the tide could have changed for me. Now I’ll never know if that could have been a possibility,” you sob.

“I know… I’m sorry…” he says softly. “And I didn’t know what you were dealing with personally which makes me feel even worse,” he says kneeling in front of you.

You both sit there motionless, not wanting to talk anymore. You felt your heart hurt, you never thought you could feel so broken. Just when you thought things were getting better, it came crashing down. You knew this whole thing was too good to be true. You just didn’t know how messy it would be.

You get up and smooth your dress out. Elvis quickly gets up too, looking at you with concern. 

“I’m sorry baby, please. I was an idiot I didn’t know what I was doing,” he pleads as he gently caresses your face. His touch burns your skin and makes you feel weak. You hate yourself for liking his hands on you so much. You sigh softly and lean against the wall. He presses his forehead against yours and his breathing hitches. You place your hand on his cheek and feel the wet drops of tears cover his face.

“Please, forgive me,” he begs, his voice quivering softly. You stay silent as he tilts your head up to look up at him through wet eyelashes. He places the softest kiss on your lips, making you feel weak. Both of you gasp, needing air over this small kiss. He places another kiss on your lips, this time with a bit more urgency. You squeeze at his arm, trying to fight his magnetic pull. It’s almost useless. His arms pull you closer to him and you both sigh exasperated. You tremble with emotion and he places another passionate kiss on you. 

“I’m sorry baby, please,” he whimpers. 

You feel on fire but the tears pouring down from your eyes are making you feel like you have a fractured soul now. You’ll never be whole again. You struggle for breath and try to get a hold of yourself. You push at his chest and blink through your tears to look at him. You had never seen him cry like this and it breaks you. 

“I can’t see you anymore. Whatever this was, it's done,” you sob.

Fear engulfs his eyes and he shakes his head. 

“No no please baby, don’t go. Stay, we can talk more,” he pleads. 

“There’s nothing else to say,” you whimper. You start to take a few steps away and he gently holds your hand. 

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me. I can’t be without you. I don’t know how to get by without you here. I need you,” he begs. Tears stream down your face and you feel like the air got sucked out of your lungs when you hear him confess this. It sounded too good to be true. These were words you always longed to hear coming from his lips. It’s too late though. 

“I have to go,” you sob. 

“Baby no,” he cries, slowly crumbling to his knees in front of you. 

You feel your heart break in two, this was a sight you never wanted to see. It felt awful to say but you needed to walk away. There was nothing else to fix this relationship. 

“Bye E,” you whimper and pull your hand away from his. It felt physically painful. 

You walk back out to the driveway and you see some of the guys waiting to open the gate for you. Putting the keys in the ignition, your radio blares and Elvis’ voice rings from the speakers. It was a song you didn’t recognize. It must have been off of his new album or something. You quickly shut the radio off and want to drive in silence instead. Backing out of the driveway, you see Elvis standing in the middle of it. He looked distraught, like he just witnessed a death. 

In a way, that’s what it felt like. This whole evening was ruined from the moment you walked into the house. Any possibility of what could have been with you and Elvis was washed away by a flood.

*

*

*

Tagging:

@loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis

@ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers

@idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy-

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadestashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

@sloppiest-of-jos @thisis-theway @gatheraheart

@aphroditebabygirl @faeolwen

[rebelliousstories]

Sins of the Father

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Fluff

Word Count: 4,992

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When the victim of a crime shows up to a hospital, she only has one name on her lips as she dazes in and out; Luke.

John F. Kennedy said, “Children are the world’s most valuable resource and its best hope for the future.”

Racing inside of a hospital in the blistering cold, there were medics and emergency room staff working desperately on a woman in a stretcher. A small boy who was crying out for his mom from the back of the ambulance. An oxygen mask covered her mouth but she kept trying to speak.

“Get the OR prepped now!” A nurse yelled, running alongside the gurney.

“Luke. Luke!” The woman pulled her mask off and fought with her nurse that was trying to put it back on. People moved out of their way as they ran down the hallways. As they were doing that, a small boy was being led by an EMT to the waiting area to wait with him. A woman in a suit, and a man in a polo showed up to the nurses station and showed their credentials before being pointed over at the waiting room.

“Buddy, I know that you’re scared, but I’m gonna wait right here till the police can show up and help you. Do you want a water?” The EMT tried to get the boy to open up, but he just curled in on himself.

“Excuse me,” the woman gained the attention of the older man, “we’re agents Prentiss and Alvez. May we speak with you for a moment?”

The man went to nod, but his eyes drifted back to the small child next to him. Luke stepped forward and crouched down in front of the small boy. The boy hesitantly looked towards the older man, and looked at him with recognition that the agent did not understand.

“Hey there. I’m Luke. Do you mind if I wait here with you?” He asked softly, waiting for the boy to acknowledge him. But the boy said nothing. The medic was ushered away by Emily, but Luke still sat on the floor in front of the boy to not crowd him in.

“You’re the one who treated the woman that was just admitted?” Emily asked, already going into business mode.

“Yeah. She was in rough shape when we found her and her son. I’ve seen so many things in my years, but if I never saw one of these guys victims again it would be too soon.” He shook his head as he dropped his eyes.

“Can you tell us where you found her? We know there was a 9-1-1 call that led you to an abandoned factory. Was there anything unusual about it?” She pressed. Her feyes flickered over to where her friend was still sitting near the boy.

“Um, she was bound with tape and rope. Her kid was holed up in a closet down the hall.” The man responded.

“This is very important, did you remove anything from her hands? Stamps, coins, even bugs that have been preserved?” Prentiss got her phone ready to make a call with whatever the EMT said.

“Cards. We gave the police a queen of hearts, jack of diamonds, and a uh… oh what was it,” he was thinking hard about what the other card was. “Oh, a king of clubs as well.”

“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.” She let the medic go and turned to where Luke was still trying to get through to the woman’s son.

“Ready and willing for you, my fair lady.” The cheery voice of one Miss Penelope Garcia chimed through the phone.

“Hey girl. Listen, the collector left a set of cards this time. I’m gonna have the Virginia P.D. send them over. But he only left three this time. He didn’t complete the set.” The older agent continued to stare in confusion at the duo in front of her while the clacking of keys filled the other line.

“Why wouldn’t he have completed the set? That’s like his whole thing.” Penelope was also staring confused now.

“I don’t know, but we do know that the three previous victims all had something that they hid and never claimed. Look into our Jane Doe and see if anyone matching her description has gone missing that has a child.” Emily instructed, noticing the smile passing over Luke’s face as the child looked at him again. He still had not said a word but he was responding.

“Oh she has a child? That is awful. Why do bad guys do bad things? Okay, I will see if anyone has gone missing in a tri-state region matching her description that has a child. Farewell fair g-woman!” And the line clicked off. Prentiss smiled but kept her distance from the to men in front of her and just watched them.

“Can you tell me your name bud? If I know your name, I could find out how to better help your mom.” Luke gently pried, finally moving to the chair next to the boy.

“Liam. My mom has a picture of you.” The boy admitted, turning his body fully to the man to his left.

“Okay Liam, what do you mean your mom has a picture of me? Like from the T.V. or computer?” He pried again, confusion forming deep in his face.

“No. In her necklace and in the frame in her drawer. She thinks that I don’t know, but I do.” Liam looked down at his feet as he kicked lightly.

“You’re very smart Liam. Do you know where she got those pictures?” Now, Luke was going away from the main objective.

“She’s had them forever,” he shrugged, “she doesn’t like talking about it with me. Mom just cries late at night. I think that’s why the man gave me this.”

“Gave you what, Liam?” He did not know how that little brain was able to comprehend and process everything that was happening; Luke’s brain was having a difficult time by himself.

“This.” Liam pulled down his shirt and showed something stapled to the inside. Luke helped him flip the edge over to reveal a card. Whipping a glove out of his pocket, Luke was grabbing the card, careful not to cause harm to the child. The name “Luke” stared back at him, which just added more confusion to his mind. The agent looked back to Emily who was calling to get an evidence kit to collect the card. Once the card was collected and sent off to the BAU, Luke continued to sit with Liam as he did not want to leave the boys side.

At the headquarters, Reid stared at the three cards that he currently had and thanked the agent that delivered him the fourth. There was a reason the unsub did not pair all for cards together like he should have. He was known as The Collector; he should have put them all together out of compulsion.

He placed all four cards on a board and just stared at them. This unsub paired the stamps together with years consecutively apart. Coins were in the same pattern, just with earlier years. And the bugs were the oldest but the dates on the back of the frames were earlier, but all together.

“Garcia got a name on our Jane Doe- what are you doing?” JJ asked, walking in to the round table room where Reid was staring at the pictures of items that were found at the scenes of the crime. He did not give her an answer but instead turned to his friend instead.

“I know why he’s choosing what he’s choosing to display. Who’s the latest?” Spencer jumped from thought to thought with surprising speed. Jennifer told him her name, and placed her photo where it needed to go on the board.

“Great. We need to get the team together.” He left to go track down his fellow teammates while JJ just stood there, trying to see what he saw in the pictures. In just a moment, JJ and Spencer stood with Rossi, Lewis, Simmons and Garcia while Alvez and Prentiss were on a conference call.

“I didn’t see it until the card came in, but please indulge me for a moment.” Spencer began, gaining the attention of those around him.

“So, when we’re young, what’s something that we can easily get to collect? Especially young boys?”

“Bugs.” Lewis offered.

“Exactly,” his hands were running wild as he spoke, “then when we’re old enough to make or get money, you usually collect by date. When you’re old enough to write, you might send letters and if you have the collecting tendency, you collect stamps. Finally, when you’re old enough to start playing cards, you might collect cards based off their patterns and designs.” After his explanation, Spencer was looking around and just hoping he had not lost them.

“So he’s telling the story of his life through the collectibles he leaves.” Rossi pointed out, feeling like there was more to be discovered.

“Exactly, but this is where it get’s interesting.” Reid pulled down the cards and laid them on the desk.

“On the front, all four of these cards look similar, however,” the cards were flipped, “on the back, only the two hearts match. The two kings don’t match each other or the hearts. They have completely different appearances.”

The team stood around as they thought about the explanation. It was not until a nurse came by that Luke’s attention was drawn away. He let Emily know that he was going to her, and left the team.

“She’s resting right now. There was some extensive damage but she should make a full recovery. You can go see her now.” The nurse led the way down the hall to where the woman lay in her hospital bed. Alvez thanked the nurse, and she went on her way. He looked in through the glass at the beaten woman inside and felt his throat close. Her voice still ran through his head everyday, even after all this time.

Luke walked inside the room, and let out a shaky breath at he watched her just lying there. She was staring off into nothingness and barely registered that there was another person in the room. With a clearing of his through, the agent brought her attention to him.

“Luke.” She whimpered, tears welling up at the mere sight of him.

“Hey reina.” He whispered, coming over to the side of the bed. She said nothing for a minute, before she finally burst out crying. The pain in her face flared up, yet she could not help but cry.

“I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry.” Her words caused the man to hold her hand delicately as she continued to cry.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetie. You did nothing to deserve this treatment.” Alvez tried to reassure her but she just kept shaking her head and crying.

“It is all my fault. I did this. This is my fault, Luke. I set him off.” Her breathing was starting to pick up and Luke knew he needed to act fast. He had enough of his friends from the army that developed panic attacks after what they saw to know when one was starting.

“You gotta calm down, reina. Breathe, you gotta breathe. Follow me. In and out. There you go. Try it again. Good job. Let’s try it again.” Luke led her through several exercises to help stave off the attack, and was glad to see her heart beat finally calming back down. Once she was able to catch her breath, the woman looked around, and was about to be sent into another tizzy.

“My son. Where’s my son? Where’s Liam?” Even though she tried to get up, the agent did not let her.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Lay back down. Liam is with my coworker, Emily. They’re just outside in the waiting room.” He reassured her once more. She nodded as she settled back into her bed with Luke at her side.

“So, where are you working now,” came her ask. Her voice was small and weak than he had ever known.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico.” He answered, sitting down in the chair beside her bed.

“BAU, huh? Would have never thought you would go from the FTF to a desk job.” She teased, causing them both to chuckle.

“Hey, don’t wanna hear nothing. Little miss work from home author.” Alvez sent right back, making them chuckle again. But once they died down, the man turned solemn. “I’ve gotta ask some tough questions that I’d much rather not have Liam present for, if that’s okay?”

She nodded and let her self get comfortable in her bed first. Luke readjusted in his seat as well before he began.

“Do you know the man who did this to you?” He asked, watching the woman closely for any sign of discomfort.

“Yeah. My ex-boyfriend, Santiago.” Her eyes shifted away as she answered.

“Wait, Santi did this? I thought he was still in New York.” Luke could not catch a break on the confusion.

“He followed me here. When I broke up with you, Luke, I didn’t want to. But he said he would kill you and my parents if I didn’t. I couldn’t take that chance. He knows where all of you live.” She pleaded, looking back with tears in her eyes.

“It’s fine. You were only doing what you thought was right. Even though, I would have had someone investigate his threats for you. But sweetheart, that was five years ago. What have you been doing all this time? And why would he do this now?” Luke pressed, holding her hand in his own.

“I was taking care of my son. But I was tired of being controlled. I found out that your number hadn’t changed. I guess he found out cause one minute I’m packing Liam’s bag, and the next I’m tied down to a table in an abandoned building.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth uncontrollably.

“When we found Liam in the waiting room, he had a card stapled to his shirt. Now, that’s just his signature, right. Leaving something on his victims that is a collectible. But the cards weren’t collectible. They were all different except for the queen and jack. Two different kings that did not match. Does that have anything to do with Liam?” Luke noticed how she chewed her lip between her teeth and picked at her nails unconsciously. That was always her tell that she was hiding something. Now just what that something was the question. He called her name, and she looked him in the eyes. The woman was wishing that she had not done that.

“Who is Liam’s father?”

A knock at the window caused the pair to pull away and look to the source of the noise. Emily had arrived with Liam, who ran to his mother. Luke helped the young boy up, and followed the agent out of the room to discuss.

“This woman had the most rage shown to her, but not the son. Whoever this guy is, he is getting closer to his end game. But I can’t help feeling like we’re missing something.” Prentiss lamented, noticing how distant Luke was after her little speech.

“What is it?” She pried.

“I know who this guy is. We need protection detail stationed at her door until we catch him. He’ll come back and finish off the job.”

The two agents raced back to Quantico while on the phone with the team to fill them in. Inside the SUV, the air was so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife. Prentiss was not sure what was going on with Luke since they left the hospital, but he was silently staring out of the window. The man was lost in his thoughts as he thought about everything that had happened in the last decade.

When they made their way up the elevator to the sixth floor, Luke was silent through all of that. His next words would not come until he had barged his way into Garcia’s lair. The technical analyst let out a shriek as she was startled by the loud noise.

“Oh hello to you too. What can I do for you mister with the very scary look on his face that tells me something bad is about to happen?” Her voice trailed off as Alvez came to rest his hand on the bak of her chair and look over her shoulder to gaze at the screen.

“Garcia, pull up anything and everything you can on a Santiago Domingo from the Bronx. We went to the same high school. Send it over to the main screen.” Luke left as soon and as fast as he had entered which left the woman to scramble to get his information. Making his way into the round table room, Emily met him in there with determination.

“I got your text. What’s going on that you don’t want to fill the team in about yet? Is this about the latest victim in the hospital?” She wasted no time, and got right down to business.

“Yes,” he admitted with a deep sigh. “I wanted to tell you first before bringing the team up to speed.”

“Floor is yours.” She prompted.

Down in the bull pen, the rest of the agents watched through the blinds as the unit chief spoke with her agent. They were all trying to figure out who this guy was, but was not able to. However, no one missed the DMV photo that was pulled up on the big screen.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Lewis pondered, sipping her coffee. She had lost track as to what number cup she was on for the day.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good.” JJ replied, popping a chip in her mouth as she was finally able to take a break to eat. A noise prompted the rest of the team to turn their heads to the resident genius who was still focusing on the cards that were collected from the scene.

“Your IQ is whining so much I want to give it some cheese. What do you have, Reid?” Rossi teased, prompting a few chuckles.

“The cards. The other mismatched king, the king of spades, that’s the one that had Luke’s name on it but why?” Spencer held a confused look on his face as he tried to piece the puzzle together.

“Maybe the unsub knows Luke and wanted to taunt him. Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.” Simmons pointed out, but Reid only shook his head.

“It’s got to be more than that. The queen and jack are from the same suit, and the same deck. But only the kings are different in suit and deck, and they don’t match any other card that was recovered.” He continued his explanation.

“What’s your point?” Rossi asked.

“I’m not sure.” Reid concluded.

“Guys,” Emily stepped out and called their attention, “you’re gonna want to get in here.”

The team shuffled into the room, and all stood around the table while Luke was right in front of the screen. His face was solemn and defeated; a look that did not suit Luke Alvez very well.

“The man we’re looking for was my best friend in high school, Santiago Domingo. We called him Santi. He was a bit of an odd guy, but harmless for the most part. Came from a broken home and was a typical kleptomaniac. Anything he could get his hands on, he took.” Luke took a break and casted his eyes to the table. Having to dig up old memories was hard for him.

“Halfway through senior year there was a girl who transferred to our school. She had all the same classes as me so I got assigned one morning to help her around. I really liked this girl, I mean she was the total package. Smart, pretty, great sense of humor, wanted to help people, already had a job and another more permanent one set up after high school. Well, as time went on and she would hang around me and Santi, I ended up falling for her. I didn’t realize that Santi was in the same boat I was in.’

‘Prom came around and as much as I wanted to ask this girl out, Santi was asking me for advice on how to do it himself. So I helped him. He was the happiest I had ever seen him when she said yes. They made a really lovely couple. After high school, they stayed together. And I saw less and less of her, and anytime I did see her, she was always within arm length of Santi. Then the bruises came.”

Pictures flashed on the screen, and the whole team had to hold their breath. The woman’s face was covered with scrapes and marks. Her arms, chest, legs, hands, and feet were all in the same horrid condition. Garcia averted her eyes as they continued, but everyone else kept watching the slides.

“She reached out to me about twelve years ago, wanting to get out of the relationship but felt like she couldn’t. I got her to go to the police, testify against him in court, and got Santi put away for ten years. Two years later, we started dating once she felt like she could and we were happy. I planned on proposing to her, but before I could, she broke up with me. Left all of her stuff in our apartment, and was gone in the middle of the night. According to prison records, Santi only served four of his ten. Got out on good behavior. According to her, she had to break things off with me, otherwise he would have killed her parents, then me.” Luke concluded. The room was so silent, you could hear everyone’s breathing. No one said anything for a while. They just stood there and stayed silent.

“So how can we help find Santiago?” Emily asked, which pulled everyone else from their stupors.

“Garcia, where was he staying in town? If he’s doing all these murders, he’s got to be staying somewhere isolated that he can plan and execute everything.” Matt directed.

“Right, um. So Domingo’s last known address was…” her face dropped once the search result came back, “an apartment downtown. He’s been living on the same floor as Luke for the past six years.”

“No matter how stupid this guy may be, he’s not stupid enough to keep her, with a child on the same floor as Luke. He’s got to have another spot that he was holding them.” JJ countered, but it all slipped away for Alvez. Six years Santiago had known where he was and knew the routine.

“Look for anything registered in her name. That’s going to be where they’ve been living since leaving Luke.” As soon as Spencer said the magic words, Garcia had her fingers racing across her keys. Another ding.

“Okay so I’ve got an address, also downtown, but about five miles from the apartment. It’s a house registered in her name. They’ve been there for five years.” Penelope looked up at Luke, but he was just staring that table into the ground. If looks could kill, that table would be taking a world of abuse.

“So we go to his house. He was interrupted with her. He’ll wanna regroup before going with his next strike.” Luke made the move to leave the room to get ready but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, Luke. You are far too close to this case. Let us handle it. We need him alive, and with your relationship to the victim, you’ll be a liability.” Rossi gently spoke, as if hushing a cornered animal. The agent turned around and leveled his unit chief with a look. A look that said, “you signing off on this right now?”

“Go stay at the hospital with her until we catch Santiago. You’ll be better suited for that than this.” Emily did not miss the look of indignation that came across Alvez’ face. Even less so when it was paired with the stomping of boots as he stormed away.

Luke obeyed the order though. He drove silently to the hospital, wishing that he was out in the field taking down this guy. Once he was parked and the vehicle was shut off, he hit the steering wheel a couple times to let out his anger at the situation. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Alvez left the vehicle and made his way into the hospital. His team was out there taking down his childhood best friend without him. If anyone should be able to make that arrest, it should be Luke.

He kept thinking about this all the way to her room. And then his mind drifted to her son, Liam. The kid was just five years old and had almost lost his mom thanks to that man. Arriving at her room, Alvez noticed that the blinds were drawn and immediately had a bad feeling in his gut. Placing a hand on his firearm, he went into the room as quietly as possible.

“Thought I wouldn’t notice yo slipping right back into Mr. Perfect’s arms, huh?” It was Santiago. He had found her. Luke should not have been too shocked; Santiago needed to complete the collection.

“Please, don’t hurt us more than you have. Okay? Liam loves you. Don’t do this in front of him.” She was trying to shield her son, but with her condition and being in a hospital bed, that was very difficult.

“Don’t lie to me. I know he isn’t mine.” Santiago growled, waving around a knife.

“Santiago, put it down.” The man in question turned around, but his face relaxed to be almost jovial upon seeing the agent in the room.

“Well, look who we have here. Luke Alvez. Big bad FBI agent who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about where he comes from.” Domingo moved closer to the mother and son in the bed while moving his knife closer and closer. This prompted Luke to draw his gun, and kept it trained on the man in front of him.

“Santi, I don’t want to hurt you but I will. Let them go and drop the knife.” He pleaded, shifting his eyes to her in reassurance.

“Has she even told you,” came the question. When no response was given from anyone, Santiago burst out laughing in his spot. “Oh, she hasn’t. This is too perfect. You’re so clueless man.”

“Santi, please.” She begged, but cowered when the knife came closer to her and her son.

“No! Don’t you think he has the right to know? I mean, you wouldn’t be so heartless as to keep that from him would you?” He was teasing her, and still waving a knife around her son.

“Go on, tell him. You’ll feel better.” Santiago kept repeating the prompt over and over again, but she refused. Instead, she held her son close and waited for the nightmare to be over.

“Tell him!” He shouted, yanking Liam from his mom’s grasp. Both people cried out and tried to get to the other, but Santiago had other plans. With a knife held menacingly over the boys stomach, he prompted the woman again. This time much gentler. “Tell Luke.”

She looked at her son, who had tears coming down his face. He looked just as confused as the agent that she laid her eyes on next. Her vision was obscured by the tears that were pouring down her face as she tried to figure a way to get her son back.

“Luke, when I left to go to Santi, I was pregnant. I told him for years that Liam was his, but when he started growing proper hair, I couldn’t lie anymore. Liam is your son, Luke. I’m so sorry I hid that from you.” Her wails were overshadowed by Santiago’s whoops in delight.

“Doesn’t that feel so much better. How about you Luke? Feel any better knowing the truth?” Santiago teased again. The agent kept his gun and eyes hardened on the man but was quietly processing the information.

“Now where were we?” He raised his knife up as if to swing, and Luke did not think about it another second. Landing a bullet in the man’s shoulder, the agent swooped in and kicked the knife away from him as he grabbed the boy and hoisted him up. Santiago was writhing in agony on the ground, blood steadily pouring out, but Luke did not care. He set the young boy on the bed, and called it in.

In just a few minutes, his entire team was there. Luke kept himself busy for the time being with giving a statement, getting Santiago out of the room and filling his unit chief in. Thirty minutes later, he finally caught a long enough break to go back into the room where mother and son rested. Even though they were lying down, neither was too terribly tired. When she heard the door click, she waved the man over to sit on the chair beside them. Keeping a hand on the boy, she reached her other hand out to hold Luke’s.

“Was that true? What you said earlier.” He asked, begging for confirmation.

“Every word. He’s yours, Luke. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but he wouldn’t let me reach out to you once we knew for certain.” Liam sat up and faced the adults talking.

“Hey buddy. I’m your dad.” Luke choked out as tears came to his eyes. Without another word, Liam launched himself into his awaiting arms as Alvez cried. Bringing her into the fold, they all sat there crying and finally being together as a family.

“Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.” Charles R. Swindoll

[restinslices]

Silly little request but how do you think LKB would dress like casually? Like once every blue moon they have a day off and ding need to wear their uniforms? Can you do this in bullet points?

Them not in their uniforms is such a normal concept but it seems so weird for them if you know what I mean. Like, wdym they don’t wear those outfits to sleep? Also this is probably shorter than other posts because it’s about outfits, yk?

Bi-Han

Black. Moving on-

On some real shit though, I feel like this man’s entire wardrobe is in greyscale 

Someone’s like “hey there’s this event coming up! Can you wear a blue shirt?”

You’d think he’d have blue but nope. Nothing but blacks and greys and maybe a white in there 

I saw a post of biker Bi-Han and I definitely see it now 

Idk if the pictures imma attach at the end are really biker tho so that’s why I’m saying mainly blacks 

Like Elsa, the cold doesn’t bother him anyway so jackets aren’t really a thing he has to wear. He kinda just does because it makes the outfit look better 

That’s all the brain power he puts into it though because this man doesn’t care about his wardrobe at all 

He cares enough to not look sloppy but he doesn’t care about piecing shit together or brands and designer. If you look closely you can see he’s wearing the same shirt he was wearing yesterday 

He wears black because he’s still thinking like an assassin. The whole “I shouldn’t be noticeable” thing 

Which is wild when you think about how he’s definitely noticeable in that blue outfit but idk

He also wears black because… he doesn’t know 

He checked his closet and realized that shit looked like a black void but refuses to actually wear more color 

I don’t see him accessorizing much either. He only carries stuff he can fit in his pockets 

Kuai Liang

Lazy 

Bi-Han adds a jacket for a bit of razzle dazzle but Kuai Liang doesn’t 

In all fairness, he gets hot easily (this is stereotypical but idc) so a jacket isn’t gonna work 

He wears the most basic t shirts and pants 

Like he legit got the same white shirt 50 times 

The shit is despicable 

I don’t think he adds many accessories either. He probably doesn’t carry much on him 

Long sleeves never really happen either 

Honestly I don’t think of any them dress with any special aesthetic in mind

But him? Extra lazy

I am being so serious when I say he buys the same clothes over and over again. He forgets he has a white t shirt in his closet so he buys another and the cycle repeats 

Probably doesn’t care as much because what are the chances he’ll be out of uniform?

You know how people say men's outfits are so boring? He’s the main example they use because there’s no personality with his shit 

I don’t see him doing much on his off days though so that’s probably why he just throws something on

He’s just getting dressed to go grocery shopping 

Tomas Vrbada 

The one with the most style 

Which isn’t saying a lot 

Wears multiple layers 

Why do I think this way? Idk. But if I said they all dress the same, it’d be boring so here we are

He probably has a normal type of body heat since he’s not a pyromancer or cryomancer so he’s wearing hoodies and jackets because he’s genuinely cold 

He accidentally has style 

Wearing a hoodie and jacket is stylish to people for whatever reason. He doesn’t get it but he’s like “yeah, I definitely have fashion sense. It’s definitely not because I’m cold all the time. That just doesn’t sound like me”

May accessorize a bit but not as much 

As a whole I think accessories can become heavy and get in the way and our boys gotta be ready to bust a move if something pops off. Just because they’re off duty doesn’t mean they’re not paying attention or in danger 

So that’s why our boys travel light 

He has those smoke bombs and shit so he might have a little pouch with him but I don’t think he’d carry a backpack. Goes back to being too heavy 

If something can’t fit in a pouch, it’s staying home 

Dresses in neutral colors. I don’t think any of them are necessarily into bright colors 

Doesn’t have the same exact clothes but wears them the same exact way. His outfits look like a skin variation 

He’s doing his best 

Remember all I do for you because imagining them in normal clothes fucked me up more than I’d like to admit

[lvlyynim]

bestfriend!mark who’d remember your usual drink and pastry order so he’d have an excuse to crash your study session in the library.

bestfriend!mark who always has a spare charger in his bag whenever your phone is running low.

bestfriend!mark who would lull you to sleep with a few plucks from his guitar and soft singing.

bestfriend!mark who keeps small gifts you gave him and stores them in a cupboard box, calling it his memories box. (from the first movie ticket you two went together to the polariods of you and him)

bestfriend!mark who has a crush on you ever since 9th grade, you skipped school to take care of him when he was sick.

“don’t you have that very important history test? the one you spent weeks studying for”

“oh shush, you’re more important than that stupid test. now shut it and drink this”

bestfriend!mark who has a drawer full of his shit in your closet cause he’s constantly over at your place.

bestfriend!mark who would stay up all night stargazing with you from the small balcony.

bestfriend!mark who nearly burned down your kitchen, trying to make a sunny side up.

“you are never ever entering my kitchen again. at this point mark, you’re setting yourself up everytime you grab a pan”

“at least this one is better than the rest-”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT”

bestfriend!mark who always know when something is wrong and shows up with your favourite snacks and his hoodie.

bestfriend!mark who sents you sunset pics daily saying it reminds him of you. he’s also your personal weather forecaster.

bestfriend!mark who orders fast food and eats them with you in his car, in an empty parking lot.

bestfriend!mark who holds your hand in crowded places out of fear of losing you in a sea of people. (also your hands will stay interlocked for the whole day)

bestfriend!mark who’s your biggest supporter and constantly encourages to face your fears, reminding it’ll always work out in the end.

bestfriend!mark who dyed his hair blue after losing his bet with haechan (and it was probably the best thing to happen cause it suits him, to the point where you can’t stop staring at him)

“you look great with blue hair”

“hm? dang really?”

“mhm probably my favourite colour out of the all other ones”

“damn you liked it that much huh? is that why you keep staring at me?”

“shut up and finish your food”

bestfriend!mark who rubs his hand up and down your back whenever you two hug.

bestfriend!mark who stays sober if you two go out for drinks or during parties so he could take care of you in case you do too many shots.

bonus nsfw cuts

bestfriend!mark who jerks off to a photo of you almost every night before being consumed by guilt and shame. (and does it again the next night)

bestfriend!mark who shamelessly checks out anytime you wear something a tad bit revealing. (his favourite : you in skirts)

bestfriend!mark who finally had the chance to pour his feelings out to you and fuck you senseless afterwards.

“you have no fucking clue how long i’ve wanted this” you let a broken sob, feeling as if his cock is gonna split you in half with how deep he is. how big he is.

mark just chuckled at your disheveled state, legs pinned to your body, eyes rolled back in euphoria, body littered with his mouthwork.

“taking me so good baby, so fucking good” he’s losing it by the second. with how you’re clenching around him, he’s not gonna last long. your high pitched moans is a telltale sign you’re in the same boat as well.

mark was a gone man when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him deeper into your dripping cunt. leaning a whine of your name, he came hard. you took advantage and pushed him onto his back, straddling him.

wind knocked out of mark’s lungs seeing you bouncing on his cock, desperate for your own release. mark was choking on his sobs, his cock overstimulated to the point where he could cry any moment now.

“ba-baby please ngh please come please”

“fuck mark, i-i’m cumming”

it didn’t take long for the knot in your stomach to snap, orgasm washing over your body with a long whine of mark’s name.

[heretherebedork]

This entire scene is agony because half of it is about the truth (Do Han being gay) and half of it is a lie (Do Han 'tricking' A Jeong into marrying him) and the rest is about Ji Han's own pain that he's never faced or expressed because his coping skills suck.

Ji Han knows Do Han is gay now but he still doesn't know that A Jeong knows he's gay and so he's taking out this anger on Do Han about A Jeong's love not knowing it's entirely fake and that's the hardest part about this fight scene because the fight isn't about what it's about, it's about something that isn't actually happening but appears to be happening.

See, the problem with this fight and the framing of it is that Ji Han is mostly angry because he thinks Do Han is lying to A Jeong who loves him. That's why he's so pissed and why Do Han can be framed as the villain in this moment.

Because this is about Ji Han and A Jeong.

But the truth is that Do Han isn't doing any of the things Ji Han accuses him of in most of the argument besides being the closet which isn't what Ji Han is truly angry about to an extent.

I deeply appreciate that Do Han got to punch first despite his own guilt and issues because this man has spent most of his life hiding himself even from the brother he loves and now, the first time anyone in his life finds out he's gay, he gets called the Worst Person Imaginable. Sigh.

Do Han was also young when their mother died so I'm not sure what he was going to tell Ji Han about where he was living or where Ji Han was living. I don't think Do Han had any control over that.

I admit, I bet he ran to New York without telling anyone. I accept that. Do Han is absolutely a coward when it comes to telling people things he expects to be judged for and so he does tend to just... not tell them. We've seen that a lot in the show. Do Han's fear of what other people will think is real.

And this where the knowledge of the viewer informs us of how wrong Ji Han is in his assumptions but also allows it to make sense that Ji Han would think the worst of that and the worst of everything in this moment.

But, honestly, a lot of this is Ji Han putting his own trauma out in the air. He's got so many issues and he's never faced a single one and Do Han's own secrets have left this space between them that Ji Han tried to fill with pushing him to gain power and trying to find reason to involve Do Han more because he never knew why Do Han was distant... and now that he knows he's gonna go ahead and assume the worst because that's all he's got.

Poor Do Han lived in a minefield that Ji Han will never understand and will never try to understand because Do Han's minefield is something so specific and so painful and he had to leave behind so, so much. And he didn't choose that, unlike Ji Han choosing to go for the power and the family connections.

(Also, I need a scene at some point where Do Han tells Ji Han their mother's death isn't his fault just because I don't think Do Han ever believed it was his fault.)

And this is where the whole thing comes back to Ji Han's love for A Jeong and the fact that the viewer knows that A Jeong knows but Ji Han doesn't and that he won't because A Jeong isn't going to out Do Han and neither is Ji Han and so this misunderstanding is going to continue and get worse when Ji Han and A Jeong's romance becomes more public and Do Han is forced to face the press, his own fears and their actual romance and the fact that he does love them both.

Honestly, Ji Han, you fell in love with A Jeong before you knew any of this so maybe take a look in the mirror.

Oh the heartbreak and the fear and the pain and the way Do Han only knows part of the truth as well and this is just gonna hurt. How does he handle this? How does anyone? And then the fall out of everything, the fact that Ji Han and A Jeong are starting a romance while he's still supposed to be marrying her and if he doesn't marry her will end with another woman his grandfather chooses and forced to either lie or out himself?

All the anxiety he had finally escaped in his contract with A Jeong has come back with a vengeance.

Bonus gif: Do Han's collapse broke my heart.

[chaengluva]

Massive Deal [6]

Regina George x Fem!Reader: 3.1k words: Chapter Index

Sorry for not updating in a hot minute, i forgot about my tumbler account not gonna lie😭

————————————————————————————

You were very excited to go out with Leighton, she seemed very like a sweet girl but the kiss you shared with Regina was still on your mind as you were trying to sleep that night, the English test was on Friday, the date with Leighton was on Friday and the talent show was next week, you had so many other things to think about but your mind couldn't help but think about the kiss.

You laid in your bed as your mind rushed through thoughts and questions, should you tell Leighton? What if she gets mad?

after all the questions you asked yourself, you decided not to tell Leighton about it, the two of you weren't together, so it should be fine.

You woke up the next day and decided to head to school early to get some study done, maybe you would understand the test.

You were still struggling, you thought you would never be able to understand this, you put your head down on the library desk and started to cry.

"What's wrong?" you hear someone ask, you lift your head up to see Regina standing there, she was wearing a white blouse and jeans. "Nothing, I am just struggling with English." You say, frowning slightly.

"Struggling? I found it easy." Regina says, which doesn't make you feel any better, you frown and look back down on your page, she looks at you and then sighs, leaning over you looking at the page.

She explains everything and makes it really clearer, her body gets really close to yours and once you understand everything, you look up at her, Regina is still leaning over you, the thick tension between the two of you is clear.

You looked at her lips and she looked at yours, she looked around the room and smirked when she noticed you were the only people in the library, she leaned down to kiss you. The table you were sitting on was in the corner so if anyone walked in they wouldn't see straight away.

Regina lifted you up so you could sit on the table and stood in between your legs as she kissed you, the kiss would have lasted hours, but the bell made you pull away.

"I have to get to class." You say, fixing up your make up, Regina stands away from you, "Nerd" She giggles, walking away, leaving you alone with thoughts rushing through your mind.

You shake it off and walk outside of the library, "Y/n!" You hear Leighton say from behind you, smiling, you turn around and see her, she comes up to you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so excited for our date, I was wondering if we could also go out tonight."

You weren't doing anything, so you didn't see why not. You nodded your head and she smiled, "Perfect, I'll pick you up at 6, dress casual."

She kisses your lips this time and walks away, you feel a blush creep up on your cheeks as she leaves, you feel butterflies in your body you couldn't wait.

You spend the whole day excited for this last minute planned date, it must be your excitement making the time go slowly because the whole day was dragging on and you swear it was almost home time but it was only lunch.

As you stood up from your seat, you felt a notification go off, you secretly pulled your phone out so no one would notice and read the text you got, it was from Regina.

Meet me in the janitors closet on the 3rd floor next to the boys bathroom

You made your way over there with zero hesitation, and as soon as you opened the door, (locking it behind you of course) she pulled you in for a rough kiss, her hands roamed around your body so well, she was perfect.

You kissed her back just as rough, you even try to fight for dominance with her tongue, which makes her pull away, "Absolutely not." she says, leaning back into yours, kissing you again.

This time with more dominance and more power, she shoved her tongue inside you, making you let out a moan.

She held your body close as she did this, holding your waist as she kissed you roughly, showing no mercy for you, her lips were swollen when she pulled away, she looked at you up and down and smirked at what she saw.

“We should continue this.” She says, smirking, you nod smiling as she leaves, you couldn’t help but blush at remembering the feeling of her lips against yours, they were so addictive.

You sigh at start to focus on what was important, which was the date with Leighton tonight, luckily, the rest of the day goes quickly and before you knew it, you we’re waiting outside for Leighton to pick you up.

You were wearing a white shirt with black ripped jeans, she was wearing something that was designer, as she always does, she picked you up and took you to the theme park.

The two of you had a lot of fun, you had a lot of carnival food, and went on so many rides, you only had to do one more thing, which was win a prize.

You were currently playing a game of ring toss, it you win you get this massive stuffed toy and even though you were 18, you would die for that toy.

You couldn’t win though, you must have tried 10 times before you gave up, Leighton smiled at you, but she felt bad because you were upset that you didn’t get the prize.

So she decided to play it, and she won, first go.

She loved seeing the smile on your face when the worker handed over the toy to Leighton.

Leighton was about to pass it to you but she stopped herself just before you could grab it. “Wait.” She said, you pouted in response.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Leighton asks, you could hear the nerves in her voice.

You smile brightly, grabbing the toy from her and putting it down, pulling her in for a kiss. The kiss was passionate but it was short and sweet, when you pull away, Leighton has a massive smile on her face.

“Yes. Yes I will.” You say with your forehead against hers.

Leighton was so happy that she finally could call you hers, and now that you were out, you could happily walk around the school with her arm wrapped around your waist, holding you closely. The feeling of being able to openly show affection for each other in public was a relief after keeping your relationship a secret for so long. Leighton's smile never left her face as she proudly introduced you as her girlfriend to everyone you passed.

You were walking to math class, and your eyes went wide when you walked past Regina. She smirked, looking you up and down. You could feel Leighton tense up besides you, her grip on your waist tightening slightly. You quickly looked away, not wanting to engage with Regina's obvious attempt to provoke a reaction.

You finally made it to math class. You sat next to Leighton like you always do, but she pulled you into her lap, holding you possessively. She kissed your neck from time to time—nothing too much; she just left kiss marks on your neck.

As the teacher began the lesson, you tried to focus on the material, but Leighton's affectionate gestures distracted you. You couldn't help but smile, feeling grateful for her presence and protection in that moment. You would chuckle at the sensation of her lips tickling your neck as she kissed you.

Leighton's playful affection made the math class more bearable, and you found yourself looking forward to her sweet gestures throughout the lesson. Despite the distractions, you managed to absorb enough of the material to keep up with the class. Leighton's love language always managed to brighten your day, even in the most common of settings.

She really loved physical touch, which was perfect because you also loved it, so you spent most of your time together touching each other (not in that way).

Her simple acts of affection were a reminder of the joy she brought into your life. The class finally ended, and now you had English. Sadly, Leighton wasn't in your class, but she decided to walk you to your class. She saw that Regina was already in the class, and she kissed your lips, making sure that Regina saw her do it, which made Regina roll her eyes.

As you walked into English class with a smile on your face, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Leighton's unexpected display of affection. The playful kiss served as a reminder of the bond you shared, even in the midst of school drama.

You walked into the class, and you still needed a bit of help on the English assessment, so you decided to sit next to Regina and ask her for some more help on the test.

You sat down, and your heart started beating faster when you could see the smirk on her face, but you brushed it away because you knew you wanted to be loyal. She leant over you when helping you again, and you knew she wanted to kiss you, but you couldn't allow that to happen.

You needed to be loyal to Leighton; you were dating her, so you needed to make it clear to Regina that whatever was going on between the two of you was over. Regina's flirting made you uncomfortable, but you remained focused on getting the help you needed for the test. As you thanked her for her assistance, you made sure to maintain boundaries to respect your commitment to Leighton.

"Regina." You say this, and she looks into your eyes and nods her head, waiting for you to talk. "We need to end this." That was all you said, and you can see the way her face turns from happy to angry.

"Ugh! Because of that Leighton chick?" Regina asks, rolling her eyes. You nod your head and focus back on studying. Regina doesn't like the fact that you are ignoring her, so she makes you look at her by slamming her. hand on the table. "You can't just end things like that," she says firmly, her voice tinged with hurt, but she is quiet so no one else around can hear.

"I thought we had something real." You take a deep breath, knowing that it's time to stand your ground and stick to your decision.

"I am in a relationship." You admit, which only gets Regina more annoyed. "And? Who cares? We both know I'm the better kisser." You gasp and look at her, shaking in dismay at her audacity. "That's not the point," you reply, trying to remain calm despite the situation escalating quickly. "I need to be true to myself and my partner."

Regina rolled her eyes, getting up again and standing up, leaving you there. "Fine. Good luck with the English test." She said that after getting up and leaving, you were left alone there, and you let out a sigh, knowing that you just had to focus on studying for the test tomorrow and the date with Leighton tomorrow.

You go home and have a good night's rest after studying your ass all night. The next day, you wake up feeling prepared for both the test and your date. As you walk into class, you can't help but feel a sense of determination and confidence.

The test was really hard and you didn't even get to finish it, you felt as If all that study was for nothing, you left the class as soon as the bell rang, crying because you were so overwhelmed.

"Y/n!" You hear Leighton yell, you wipe your tears then turn around, smiling when you see your girlfriend, "Oh my god? Are you okay?" she asks, giving you a hug and kiss, you nod your head before saying, "I am okay, I just failed my English test though." You say with a frown on your face.

She pouts, tightening her grip on you, "You spent a lot of time studying baby, I'm sure you will do amazing." She says, kissing your forehead, you smile at her, thanking her for her kind words, "We have a date tonight! And you also have a song to write."

You look at her with a confused face, "Karen told me you wanted to be apart of the talent show so I signed you up, I'll be playing guitar for you." Leighton smiles.

Dammit Karen.

You went home with a massive smile on your face. You were excited to get ready for the date with Leighton. You had no idea what she had planned, but she told you to dress fancy, and you did nothing fancy apart from the old dresses you had worn.

You decide to do something you never do because you know how she will react, but you push past that feeling and go to your sister's room.

You knock on the door and wait for a response. You hear a quiet, "Come in." So you open the door, and you can see that she was texting someone, probably Jason.

She looks at you with curious eyes, waiting for you to say something, there was a second of silence before you finally spoke up. "Um so I have a date tonight." You confessed, she shot up, gasping before screaming and running towards you. "Oh my god? With Leighton?" She asks, you nod your head happily and she runs into her closet.

"She said to dress fancy!" You exclaim. Gretchen nods her head and picks out something for you to wear, it was a red dress with a lot of glitter, different to what you usually wear, "Know don't be embarrassed if Leighton shows up in something better then you, her family is very rich." She says, you roll your eyes.

She forces you to sit down on the seat as she does your makeup, giving you a fancy look. "So? Is Leighton your girlfriend?" She asks as she applies more mascara, you smile, nodding your head, you almost jump with the loud gasp she lets out, but you stop yourself because you don't want to ruin the makeup.

"And you didn't tell me?!" She asks in disbelief, you give her an apologetic look, she continues to add makeup, adding final touches to it, making sure you look perfect.

"And done!" She exclaims, smiling at her work, she turned the chair so you could face the mirror, you smiled at how you looked, you still looked like yourself but you felt really pretty, you looked at the time and you had a few hours left for hair.

Gretchen grabs her curling iron and started to curl your hair lightly, sliming at you from time to time. "Are you still with Jason?" You ask, with a smile on your face, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "God No, I'm so over him." She says rolling her eyes, continuing your to do your hair, "Then who were you texting when I walked in?" She gulped and went quiet, completely ignoring the question.

"Your hair is done," Gretchen said with a smile. You thank her and get up from the seat, grabbing the dress that Gretchen had laid out for you. You put it on, and you loved the look of it. The dress highlighted your curves very well.

You had a few minutes to take photos, which Gretchen made you post to Instagram. Leighton was coming to pick you up. As you waited for Leighton, you couldn't help but feel nervous about the evening ahead. Gretchen reassured you that you looked stunning and that everything would be fine. .

Leighton arrived a little early but waited in her car until the exact time before getting out to knock. She knocked, and you gasped at how beautiful her outfit was and how stunning her makeup was. She was perfect, and she looked so amazing.

Leighton greeted you with a warm smile and complimented your dress, making you feel even more confident. As you both walked to the car, you couldn't help but feel grateful for such a stylish and supportive friend.

"You look so pretty." You say this, smiling at Leighton, and she responds by giving you a cute smile. "You look amazing, baby." Leighton says, reaching out his hand to pull you in for a kiss. As you were kissing, you heard someone take a picutre. You gasp, looking to the side, and see Gretchen with a camrea.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." Gretchen giggles, and the two of you laugh back and pose as she takes a few more pictures. Leighton wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you outside to her very expensive car.

She opens the door for you and gestures for you to get in. Excited, you climb into the car, feeling very excited but slightly nervous for this date.

She drives to a part of the city that you have never been to, a part that you have never been to because it was for all the extremely rich people to go and live. "I'll be paying tonight." Leighton says it with a smile on his face. You shake your head, but she isn't taking no for an answer; she parks in front of the most luxurious restaurant you have ever seen.

She opens the car door for you. As you step out of the car, you can't help but feel a mix of awe and apprehension at the thought of dining in such an upscale establishment. Leighton's generosity is both flattering and intimidating, making you wonder what kind of expectations she may have for this date.

You walk into the restaurant, and you are quickly seated. You notice it's a fancy Italian restaurant; you love Italian food; it's like she knew everything about you, even the things that you hadn't told her.

The date went really well; the two of you kissed a few times, and you had amazing food. She dropped you home quite late, but Gretchen was still up when you walked inside and begged you to tell her everything, so you did. You told her every detail.

Gretchen listened intently, hanging on to your every word as you recounted the evening. She smiled and nodded in all the right places, clearly invested in hearing about your date. It felt good to have a sister who cared so much about your happiness.

After you were done telling her everything, It was around 1 a.m. when you went into your room and planned to call it a night, but a notification interrupted you.

Meet at my place in 10 minutes

It was from Regina George.

[laniemae]

My strange hyperfixation from last year about the colds effects on the human body has finally come in handy so here’s a whole analysis on the tetro chapter 3 motive and how it could affect everyone

———

I wanna talk about the risk of frostbite and other cold related injuries because I feel like it could definitely be a problem going forward. Like -0c is the temperature when frostbite can form and we know that it’s only gonna get worse and prolonged exposure to the cold will cause parts of the skin, (specifically extremedies such the fingers, toes, nose, ears) to freeze up which can lead to the stages of frostbite.

Of course students with enough insulation via clothing will have a better time in these circumstances, or if they manage to utilise stuff such as blankets. But something I wanna bring up that’s particularly relevant is how in the previous investigation is the other clothes the students were given. As hasegawa mentions that he isn’t always wearing a suit but that’s all they gave him in his closet, and tamba brings up how she isn’t always wearing her leotard and sweats. This to me seems to imply that people are getting similar types of clothing to what we initially see in their main sprites, so we could assume by this that things could be rougher for people like tamba, hayashi and Tsuno. There’s also how Hiroaki is said to have a variety of different outfits and jackets in his closet and we already saw him give one to Kamimura so perhaps he could become important in this regard, maybe even there being conflict over this.

Going back to the frostbite topic I feel like that if someone does get it things will be pretty bad. One of the first steps to treating frostbite in a more traditional setting is to always seek shelter, as thawing affected tissue when there’s risk of it refreezing can make the damage worse. So that’s why it’s advised not to try thawing until a safe and warm location has been reached. But I’m thinking is that the students do not have this luxury. As they’re trapped within a school that is constantly getting colder by each day and with no access to a stable, warm location. One of the more typical ways to treat frostbite is to submerge the affected area in warm water, but something like this in this very specific situation could be dangerous and lead to more freezing. The other option such as wrapping the area in blankets could be better, but again the risk of it refreezing and causing severe tissue damage is a problem.

To be fair, specifics can be bought up comparing the severity of the frostbite compared to the room temperature in the school, which is starting at -0 and decreasing by -5 every day. As well of there being no risk of cold winds. But I’m thinking of if the constant exposure to these conditions could have an impact, and especially if it takes longer for a murder to occur and the temperatures drop even further.

There’s also more specifics which can impact which students could be more affected by the cold. One thing that can be at an impact here is the amount of body fat/muscle someone has, so I could imagine people like Wada and Kamimura having a harder time. As well as the cold can also make injuries such as fractures and broken bones hurt more, which is especially bad for Hiroaki after all the severe injuries he received after ice fairy, and the possibility of even more conflict over the idea of him taking painkillers, and relapsing in the process. And also the mention back in two truths and a lie of Ojima having broken many bones in the past, as old injuries can also act up and become painful when exposed to the cold. Wada is a particular interesting case in this scenario as well as the cold can be especially dangerous for people who have malnutrition. Especially considering the fact that it can cause lower body temperatures, which in a case like this could increase the risk of frostbite and even hypothermia.

Also something I was considering but I don’t know if this is way out the left field if the possibility of carbon monoxide poisoning. As they’re indoors so it would be harder to filter out. Appliances such as heaters, gas cooking appliances, fires. If anyone tried to use this sort of stuff too regularly, especially in a more enclosed space there’s the possibility of carbon monoxide poisoning I could imagine. But again this is just something I’m throwing out there.

And yeah talk half of this with a grain of salt as I’ve never really been in temperatures this cold and this was mostly from research I’ve done so idk.

[mahboimahboi]

okayyy so i’ve been feeling angsty recently (idk why😭) but i was wondering if i could request a story where the actor Mackenyu and the reader go out for drinks and after a little the reader goes to the bathroom to cool off for a little but when he comes back to where Mackenyu and him were staying he sees him making out with a girl and basically getting into it so reader decides to just leave him there and the next day they argue and basically break up☹️

(also ur last story was so good bru)

DRINKS AND TIES x M!Reader (featuring Actor Mackenyu)

Angst

You let out an exhausted sigh, finally able to put your pen down. You let out a groan while stretching your limbs, after being sat in the same position for more than half an hour. The male who was rested on your bed noticed your tired body, smiling softly as he stood from the bed and went up to you to give you a hug from behind. "You know, you can take a rest, right?" He said, as he placed a kiss on your cheek sweetly before he starts massaging your tense muscles near your shoulders. "Does this feel good, babe?" He asks you, while you nod your head and let out a satisfied sigh.

"I'm feeling really drained. I need some kind of pick me up." You told him, gasping when you though of an idea. You held onto his hand and raised your head up to see Mackenyu who was looking down at you, anticipating what you have in mind. "Wanna go out for drinks? My treat." You suggested, the taller male smirking and perked his brows up playfully. You giggled in reply and smiled from ear to ear. "Let me just get changed and we'll leave right away." You patted the side of his arm and went to your closet to grab something to wear.

Once you've finally gotten into a change of clothes, feeling comfortable you and your boyfriend finally left, walking hand-in-hand. It became a habit between the two of you when you both went out together or went for a walk. Along the way, Mackenyu would strike up conversations to make the journey seem a lot faster; distracting you. "Babe, I want to ask you a question." You hum in reply, telling him to continue. "Why did you choose me? Out of all the people?" He asked, curiosity laced in his voice.

The sides of your lips move upward, holding the male's hand tighter. "Well, to simply put it, I only loved you." You answered him, the other male blushing upon your sudden choice of words. Fortunately for him, it was already dark and the red color on his face was never seen. "I know when you start getting flustered by my words when I feel your hands start to heat up, so even the dark can't hide what you truly feel from me." You chuckled.

"W-Well, I, uhm, aren't you gonna ask me the same question?" Mackenyu questions, you looking up at him.

"Okay, then. Why did you choose me?"

"Because, you are the only person who made me feel so many things in so many different ways by just being yourself." He answered. "You weren't afraid to show me who you truly are and I like that the most about you. I love you, Y/N." He lifts your hand up to his lips and kisses the back of your palm and grins.

"I love you, too, Arata." You replied to him.

Soon, although it was against Mackenyu's will, he knew he couldn't do anything if you've already set your head into it. With a squeal, you pulled Mackenyu inside with you, the male laughing softly at you. You find a place near the bar isle and sat down there, laughing to each other since it was your first time to enter a bar.

The bartender comes and asks you both for what drinks you wanted to order. "Hmm, anything you can suggest for us?" You asked the bartender who smiles and whips up a drink for the both of you before he introduces you to the name of the drink, 'Ocean Blue'. Astonished, you looked at him impressed and chugged the whole glass down your throat.

"Y/N, don't be so careless. You know you get drunk easily." Mackenyu told you, taking small gulps from his glass, while looking at you concerned. You didn't heed his words and kept on drinking, even pressuring the other male to have a drinking race and if he had the least to drink, he'd be the one paying. Mackenyu not wanting to spend all the money away that he is saving to buy you that new game console that you've always teased him you wanted to receive on your birthday, accepted your challenge.

With one more chug and you're completely lost, already drunk. You started seeing double of everything, feeling really dizzy. "Uh, A-Arata, I'll just be at the restroom." The male insisted he'd go with you, but you politely declined even though you knew yourself you couldn't stand on your own two feet anymore, wobbling all the way to the comfort room. Sitting on the toilet top inside a cubicle, you rested there for a while to cool off and planned that after, you'd ask Mackenyu that you and him should head home already.

Suddenly, you felt your stomach churn. You stood up quickly and open the toilet bowl where you threw out all the drinks you've drank. Feeling a lot better, still a little dizzy, you wiped your mouth with a tissue and clumsily head back towards your seat beside Mackenyu, apologizing to every people you ran into. Not being able to look where you were going, you bumped into a waitress, causing her to spill all the drinks on your shirt, making you gasp. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" You told her, but the waitress shakes his head, telling you that it was her fault for not being careful and offers you tissues to wipe your now wet shirt.

But, you immediately stop. Your heart aches at the sight and all you could feel was anger and betrayal. There in the dark where you were once seated with your boyfriend, you see your 1 year lover settling his lips on a girl's, the two of them hooking up like you didn't existed and to add more salt to the scar, they looked like they were enjoying themselves. Tears welled up in your eyes, letting them all fall down in one go, not able to hold them back anymore. Hurt, you immediately left the place, you didn't even care that you were fucking drunk with no one to help you walk straight. "F-Fuck..."

The next morning, the hangover you felt, was nothing compared to the pain you felt in your chest. How? Why? Those were the questions that lingered in the back of your head, trying your best to answer and find the things you lacked. As you prepared to get to your class, the door to your supposedly dreamhouse with Mackenyu suddenly opens. You turn to look at the male who had own disheveled clothes, messy hair, and the smell of someone else's perfume on him. Judging by the look on your face and the way how you didn't ran to him when he arrive like usual, he knew that you are aware. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I was drunk." Was the only words he could muster to say, making you scoff at his stupidity.

"Sorry? You were drunk? You're seriously blaming it all on the alcohol? Arata, what the fuck? Are you hearing yourself?" Your anger seeps out, the words you wanted to tell him slipping past your tongue. "'Drunk' does not mean you didn't have choice, Arata. You did, but you chose to let that bitch ride your thigh and fucking kiss her!" You gritted out, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Mackenyu sighs. "Y/N, just stop fussing about that and move on. It was just one mistake." Hearing those words, you couldn't believe he could ever say that. You always thought that he was smart, but he suddenly became the dumbest person you knew in just a snap of a finger. "At least I didn't get her pregnant."

You chuckle in disbelief, eyes knitted together "Wow. And am I supposed to thank you for that, now?"

"Y/N..." Mackenyu's voice sounded like he was begging snd although it hurt, you can't just give in. You just can't.

Your anger rises up into your whole system, turning your fists into balls. You look at the male with a glare. He is starting to irritate you. "Arata, where were you even after I left?" You asked him, trying to sound calm, but what made you snap was when he stayed silent snd didn't answer. "Where did you go, Arata, after I left?!" You yelled at him.

The guilty male falls to his knees and starts tearing up after realizing what he had done to you, to his precious relationship with you. Knowing he was the one at mistake he never said anything and remained quiet. "Arata... what happened to you? Why are you doing this? Am I not good enough?"

"No, Y/N. Of course not." He answered.

"Then, why?! How could you dare break my heart, Arata?" Your tears finally fell from your eyes, all the pain, becoming too unbearable to handle anymore. You thought you were happy with Mackenyu, so what went wrong? "Guys like you... You always think after one single apology you'd be able to fix everything you've broke. Arata, not only did you break my heart. You broke me." You broke in between your tears, sobbing a few times, trying to sound as audible as you can. "Mackenyu, I'm sorry. But, one mistake is enough to make me lose my trust in you. If you did it once, what makes me think that you won't be able to do it again?" Your voice was gentle, yet all the hurt you felt is laced on your voice.

"Y/N, I promise. I will never do it again." Mackenyu begged for you to stay, but you couldn't.

You sniffed. It isn't your first choice to be apart with your boyfriend, but you can no longer love a man who tore your heart to pieces. "Mackenyu, it's time we break ties and part our ways. It may be just one mistake, but to me it's more than what you think. It's a trauma. I'm sorry, but I have to leave."

[the-s1lly-corner]

Can you write the TADC cast with a male ballet dancer reader? The reader experiences gender dysphoria 24/7 because they look very feminine and all that.

TADC cast x male!ballet dancer!reader w/ dysphoria

back to finishing up the current line up of requests!! reminder that im only doing requests that have been sent in prior to them being closed! any requests that are sent in while theyre still closed will not be taken and will be deleted so i can keep track of what was sent before closing; its nothing against any of yall and you guys can resend your stuff when they are reopened (i will make it very obvious when they are so dw!!) on a different note i could have sworn i did a cast request with a reader who does ballet; but i guess it was only for jax and i was confusing the group request for the ballora type! reader from this morning huh anyways!! i hope you enjoy this anon! quick warning that i know literally nothing about ballet so im

CAINE:

i think he enjoys a bunch of art forms; from music stuff to dance stuff to painting stuff, this man has taste. i think he would give you a bunch of outfits for you to wear and swap around that fits your aesthetic. bro would give you a whole walk in closet. as for dysphoria, i think he would do a similar thing with jax and reinforce how masculine you are to him, usually through affirmations, but he also shows it through just being there for you, bro is not only your number one fan but hes also your biggest supporter

POMNI:

i am yet again stumped on what to put in for pomni, since i think pomni is. bad at comforting people. very awkward, do not go to her for advice she will fumble so bad. now its not like shes not trying, but i think she would be all over the place trying to cover everything that could possibly help you; perhaps you two ultimately settle on cuddling one another... if this werent the digital world you two would probably put on a movie to take your mind off of it. as for her thoughts on ballet! i think she would find it neat, similar to jax she would have a form of respect for it!

RAGATHA:

she thinks it looks pretty, the dancing! she wouldnt know all the history or more in depth parts of it but she would watch you practice if you allowed her too... i think she would make you a binder, if your digital body causes any gender dysphoria for you.. though now that i type this i recall it being said that the characters clothing being stuck to their body.. so maybe she would just make you clothing thats more masculine as well? im not sure on this one!

JAX:

doing jax first since he already got a similar post and i can use it as a basis; ive said this in that post as well as the ballora one but i think he would at least appreciate the dedication and hard work that goes into ballet... to like, fully commit to something like that impresses him you know? as for dysphoria, i think he would make it a point to call you more masculine terms. hes gonna be trying his best to try to help you with your dysphoria in the way that best helps you. lays off on his teasing on days where its worse

KINGER:

i am yet again distraught that i do not have many ideas for kinger this time, which is sad because hes my favorite character and i can relate so hard to the dysphoria thing... thinks.. probably throws all of his knowledge at you. i mean hes been in the circus for a while, hes probably seen at least a few people come and go; and sure what are the odds that he has some experience helping someone fight through their dysphoria... a boy can dream! takes you to his pillow fort and lets you stay for as long as you want

probably sits and watches you dance on a makeshift pillow thrown. claps when you're done, probably throws roses... i think caine would throw roses too except he would throw way more simply because he can literally. manifest as many as he wants

ZOOBLE:

i dont usually like sharing my lgbt hcs about characters out of fear that it would be met with discourse but if i recall correctly zooble doesnt really have a gender/a set one (if im wrong correct me!) so they understand the dysphoria thing; i think they would offer to let you hang out in your room and vent your feelings out. probably tries to give advice on how to feel better in general if you want advice, but if you want comfort theyre gonna do your best to give it to you. i dont think zooble would have much of an opinion on ballet; neither negative or positive, simply knowing thats its an art form! supports you if it makes you happy, though!

GANGLE:

while not the same thing, i like to think gangle used to do ribbon dancing in the real world... because... ribbon girl. see look im so so creative

but also i think it looks pretty

so you guys can bond over your hobbies! you might have to pry gangle to open up and talk about her interest in it, assuming she picks it up again in the digital world! as for dysphoria, i think gangle would be like zooble in terms of lending you some support; offers to help distract you if you dont want to tackle the issue at that point in time. i dont know about you, but sometimes i just, dont want to deal with my own dysphoria, but perhaps thats just a me thing

[languajix]

Mike's Makeover (a Fandom Family Reunion Fashion Show Fic)

Have a little not-so-little surprise fic I wrote in honor of the fashion show event! Cabinmates, I hope I kept your characters in character here, and if I didn't, my deepest apologies.

Summary: Mike's only recent experience with a makeover has been a couple of little girls playing dress-up with him. Other than that, he's never had much opportunity to look or feel pretty. Can his cabinmates help him out?

Wordcount: 2,978

Hold Every Memory Mike arrived back at the cabin with a full-bodied sigh after a long day of wandering around, poking at things, and meeting a lot of very fun, very fashionable people. Also collecting stuff!

He heaved all the various assorted fabrics from his arm to the bed, then deposited his nibbles one by one into the nest on the bedside table. El, Dee, Lee, Angie. All the Splinterson-Hamato campers present and accounted for!

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he heard from behind him, and he did not jump because he was a ninja, of course. He just stiffened a little. The speaker in question was Cerulean, his fellow cabinmate, looking at him with his usual diplomatic smile on his face.

"Pardon?" Mike asked, having genuinely no clue what Cerulean could possibly take issue with. He didn't slam the door, he didn't track mud inside like last time, or the time before that, he didn't leave his nephews to crawl around on the bed and potentially fall off or anything, he himself was just stretching a little and unless Cerulean was worried about him pulling a muscle...

Cerulean gestured at the pile of clothes on the bed. "If these aren't already wrinkled so badly as to need ironing, they will be if you leave them like that."

Ahh. Well, what was another wrinkle? Mike's dimension wasn't exactly going to be a safe place for fancy fabric in the first place, if he even got to take this stuff home with him. He sighed again just a little, picking them up one by one. Did this cabin have a closet? Clothes hangers? He wasn't in the mood for finagling any folding at the moment; it was hard enough when he had had two hands to work with, and he'd kind of wound himself down for the day.

"I don't even know if I'm gonna try on half of this stuff," he admitted to Cerulean, who leaned over to help him pick up the clothes from the pile. "I don't usually, y'know, wear nice things. We're pretty busy, and there's just never any reason to get all dressed up anymore."

Cerulean raised a brow. "Nonsense," he countered. "There is always a reason to wear nice things."

"Not where I'm from," Mike admitted wryly. His aching feet made it hard to jump up and meet the level of his usual optimistic pep. "A long, long time ago, it could've been a different story, though. When we were teenagers, sometimes we'd have to dress up to blend in somewhere, and whenever I could get away with it, I'd try to go for clothes that made me feel... I don't know. Pretty, I guess." He laughed, and felt the grasping, confusing what-ifs slide off his shell as he decided not to linger on them. "That was a long time ago. I got a little of that mojo back with, you know, the beads. And I won't say the stuff I shrugged on today wasn't fun. It's just... I can't. This whole camp has been a lot of fun, but it does keep me too busy to really experiment or anything, usually."

Cerulean paused, then, fingers running over the fabric of one particular jacket thoughtfully. "It seems like a waste to not at least wear them all once."

"Yeah, well. We'll see how many I have time for before this shindig is over, I guess." Mike held up his arm that once again held a bunch of clothes, probably making Cerulean wince a little on the inside. "Any idea where to hang these bad boys for the time being?"

Cerulean showed him to a closet near the entry door. Neat. That's what that door was for. He hadn't realized that was there, probably because he hadn't really needed it. All his usual clothes were haphazardly folded in the duffle at the foot of his bed.

Together, they started hanging up all the clothes, and Mike was really grateful for the friends he'd made at the Family Reunion, he really, really was.

When they were done, Cerulean swished away, off to do... whatever it was he did all day.

The tiny turtle tots at his bedside started peeping for their uncle's attention, so he turned to go make sure they wouldn't wilt out of inattention. Gotta keep earning those uncle points, right?

-------

ICE was looking at him weird.

ICE looked at everybody weird at some point, because ICE could be a little judgemental sometimes. Mike tried not to take the looks personally; he was a weird guy.

He couldn't figure out what he was doing, though, that made ICE look at him like this. Most of the time he was in the middle of dunking jalapenos in jelly and eating it with a spoon, or doing pushups up on his fingertips with all of his nibbles balanced on his shell, or trying to lure out the Covert guys down from the roof with a laser pointer. His weird stuff was usually obvious.

He was sitting on his bed reading comic books while his nephews napped against his side.

Did- did they not have comic books in ICE's dimension? He ended up not reading the back half of the comic at all, and instead squinting down as the letters blurred and he tried to imagine a dimension without comic books. What would people even do for fun?

The front door creaked open, and Marco raised an eyebrow from behind his dark sunglasses as he ducked into the cabin, a plastic shopping-style bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey guys."

"Did you get everything on the list?" ICE demanded immediately, and on the opposite side of the room, Mike noticed Spirit and Mika perk up, shooting glances towards the incoming cabin counselor.

Marco took his time in brushing off his shoes on the mat and swinging the bag down against his side, stopping to scratch his chin. He must have been enjoying ICE's growing frustration, because he milked it for a good fifteen seconds at least before he gave ICE a nod, fingers curling tight against the handle of the bag. "Yep. It's all here. I think."

"Let me see," ICE demanded, sliding to his feet and marching across the room to hold out his hand imperiously.

Mike was curious.

It was never a good thing when Mike got curious. But fortunately or unfortunately, he had a couple of tiny children napping at his side and he couldn't face their tiny little sleepy eyes blinking up at him if he got up and accidentally woke them. So. "All right, then. Keep your secrets," he murmured to himself.

He watched ICE shuffle through the bag, then turn to Mika and nod. Mike watched, befuddled and amused, as Mika rolled to his feet with a salute and started wandering over in his direction.

"What's the haps?" he asked, feeling almost a little cornered, but Mika merely smiled back at him, wide and sweet, before slowly scooping up the nibbles one by one, shushing and bouncing them when they started whining in their sleep, settling them in the nest on the bedside table.

When Mike was child-free, Mika herded Mike to the end of his bed, feet sat solidly on the ground, arm resting behind him for a little stability as he leaned back just a tad. "Perfect!" Mika beamed, shooting him a thumbs up.

Mike had gone from intrigued to amused, at this point, though the not knowing was eating him up inside.

ICE set the bag down next to him, but a tap on the bottom of his chin kept Mike looking straight ahead instead of peeking inside. "I'm going to need you to stay still," ICE instructed. "Lean forward a little. Mika needs your hand."

"Always happy to lend a hand," Mike said automatically, as Mika settled in beside him. Finally, he got to see what was in Marco's bag of tricks, as ICE reached in and pulled out... nail polish.

Mike's own nail polish was chipped almost beyond recognition after weeks of inattention. He'd just been busy, okay? But this bottle of new stuff was a shiny, sparkly purple, almost looking like a captured galaxy in there, and he knew his Donnie would love it if he could show it to him. "Oh! Nail painting. Awesome. We can gossip about boys and paint each other's nails." Mika took Mike's hand to start working, and Mike tried hard not to immediately slouch as he warmed up at the contact. This was going to do wonders for his touch starvation, probably. Nice.

ICE pulled out something else - a thing of eyeliner, which Mike recognized because ICE had done up his makeup all spooky and cool recently.

"We're going to try to do this over your mask, this time," ICE declares. "I've seen some people around the camp doing it like that. Captain, for one. I don't know how this will turn out, but I'll do my best."

...what prompted this makeover, exactly? Mike searched back, but his thoughts kept getting stuck on the whole idea of a world without comic books, like a skipped record. "Okay. That, uh. Sounds. Good?"

ICE just smirked.

Painting his fingernails was over and done with quick, given that he had three of them, and Mika soon had him resting his hand on the bedspread, gently waving one of Mike's comic books to get a little airflow and let them dry, when they heard a little shuffle from the floor above. "What are we doing?" Scout asked, poking his snout over the edge of the top railing and blinking big, curious eyes down at the scene.

Spirit flew up to meet him, spinning in excited little circles. "Uncle Mike is getting a makeover!"

"Oooh!" Scout tapped his fingers against the wood in a happy little pattern, then blinked once more as though a thought had occurred to him. "What's a makeover? Can I help?"

"Sure!" Mika called, waving up at Scout. "I'll teach you how to braid! You can help me pick some beads." Scout perked up and started hopping down the stairs.

The thought of braiding his mask tails gave Mike a thrill down the back of his shell. He loved doing that, he loved how he looked like that, he just got busy. Just like everything else, really.

"Drat," ICE muttered. "Marco, you forgot a ribbon."

"Wasn't on the list!" Marco called from the kitchen, where Mike could hear him rummaging around. Snack hunting? Mike's own stomach rumbled just a little at the thought.

Or maybe that was the sound of ICE grumbling. "It was. I know it was." He tutted, obviously displeased.

That was fine! Mike hadn't expected to have his mask braided when he woke up that morning, so it wasn't a big loss. He sucked in a breath, about to say as much, when he was interrupted. Something tapped on the window, and the only reason Mike knew it was one of the Covert guys was the obvious shadow that they definitely left on purpose as they zipped away.

Scout skedaddled over to the window, taking a few tries to figure out the latch but eventually sliding it open. He poked his head through, looking up, but by then the Covert guys were for sure gone.

"Oh!" Mike heard him call, and then Scout was in front of them, holding out some things in his hands for their inspection.

A red ribbon. And two small, thin knives, almost thin enough to be mistaken for chopsticks, with sheathes dyed orange and gold stitching.

(Uh, did the Covert guys have this place bugged, or what? Not that Mike wasn't grateful, but. Still.)

"I'll take that, thank you," ICE said, grabbing the knives and inspecting them before Scout could accidentally hurt himself. "I know what we're doing with these." Good, because Mike had no idea.

Scout sorted out the beads by color, whispering to Mika along the way, going off of some sort of color scheme Mike was clearly not meant to be in the loop about. Mike kept getting distracted by ICE leaning over him, eyes narrowed in concentration, some makeup thing or other pinched tightly between his fingers. The soft presses against Mike's mask tickled, and on the opposite side of his head, his mask tails were being tugged in a familiar way.

"Ah! Stop that," ICE scolded as someone - Scout? - tugged a little too hard and tugged Mike's mask an inch sideways on his face. Then ICE got a good look at Mike, eye holes askew, probably makeup all weird as well, and out of the tiny bit of eyehole Mike had left he could see ICE trying not to laugh.

(Mike almost forgot his nails were drying, when he went to go readjust his mask back. Whoops.)

Marco walked by on his way out the door, shooting Mike a quick nod as he passed. Mike tried to read his face for any indication of how the whole makeover thing was going, but Marco's expression was impassive. Helpful, Marco. Thanks.

After a few more minutes, ICE leaned back, studying his work. "Okay, I think I'm finally done. Looking good, Uncle Mike, if I do say so myself."

Spirit, who had lingered behind ICE's shoulder on and off during the whole process, spinning around and laughing into his hands and making Mike feel a little nervous, gave Mike an encouraging thumbs up.

Okay. Cool. He was getting excited about this, actually. Like really excited, a little fluttery thing between his ribs, a little smile that wouldn't quit.

ICE grabbed the knives and walked over to the side of the bed. "Let's just put these... here," he said, and Mike could feel the slide of something into the top of his braid, right against the curve of his skull, and then a second one also sliding home.

"We just need to tie this off and then we're done, too!" Mika announced cheerfully. ICE rummaged around in the bag and passed him something, and Mike could feel the braid swishing across his shell as Mika finagled a tie around the end.

"Thank you, guys. I appreciate this a lot more than you know. Am I done? Am I pretty?" Mike asked, just a little bit shyly, itching to go look at himself in the mirror.

"Not quite," someone said, and he turned wide eyes on Cerulean, who had made his way downstairs without so much as pinging Mike's senses, a testament to Mike's distraction as much as it was Cerulean's silence.

Cerulean passed Mike by with only a sidelong glance and a placid smile. Mike smiled back, confused. But then again, this whole thing had been confusing. Nice, but confusing.

Cerulean swung open the door to the cabin closet. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for, as he pulled something out without any hesitation.

He laid the clothes down beside Mike on the bed. "You have to put this on, first."

It was one of the outfits Mike had come home with the other day. One of the many he hadn't actually worn, yet.

He didn't even know if it looked good on him. Cerulean seemed to think it would, though, which was a high recommendation. Okay, here went nothing.

Clothed and accessorized, he stood in front of the mirror and opened his eyes. What he saw knocked the breath right out of his lungs, just a little. The crisp, clean lines of makeup on his mask around his eyes, making them look wide and beautiful, a sparkly gold accentuating the black. His mask tails, with a small, long-bodied metal dragon wound up through the braid and scattered gold and purple beads glinting throughout, and the knives crossed like hairsticks through the very top. An elegantly thin gold chain draped around his neck, settled right across his plastron.

His nails, glittering like the night sky, below a simple gold bracelet.

The shirt, gauzy and light and just the right color to blend in with the golds, under an artfully draped, loose jacket with a dragon trailing across the hem, leaving stars in its wake. The swishy skirt, dripping gold into winking purple galaxies.

It reminded him of himself, but the purple and the night also reminded him of Donnie, and looking at himself in the mirror and seeing his family carried with him brought the same bubbling joy as it always did.

Mike couldn't help his grin, or his happy wiggles. He laughed, and the edges of his eyes crinkled, probably messing up that perfect makeup just a little but honestly? It would still be perfect anyways. It was all perfect.

He looked so pretty.

He could see ICE and Mika peeking over his shoulder, watching him looking at himself in the mirror, but when he pulled out his phone for a selfie, they leaned away, obviously trying to give him some space.

He didn't want space.

"Get in here," he demanded, "I'm not taking a picture without everybody in it."

ICE leaned in to his left side, a cool expression settling across his face. Mika draped himself over Mike's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, Spirit hovering next to him. Scout waved eagerly from behind Mike's other shoulder, and Mike turned, wiggling his phone and his elegantly drawn brows. "When I said 'everybody', I didn't mean 'everybody but Cerulean,'" he declared firmly. "Get in, there's only so much room in front of this thing."

Cerulean raised his brows, as though politely surprised to have been included in the word everybody. "Well, if you insist."

He leaned close to Mike's right, though, and sent a picture-perfect smile to the mirror.

Mike snapped a photo.

Everybody in it was pretty, but he had to say, for once in his time at camp? He was absolutely the prettiest.

---

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

AUs involved, in order of appearance:

Hold Every Memory @languajix

True Colors by @v-albion

It's a Complicated Equation by @leilanising

Fear's Embrace by @karonkar and @owliedoesnothing

Ghost of the Past by @wandering-ghost

Second Shot by @twignotstick

Covert AU by @chessman-protocol

All from Cabin 14!

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Five-Finger Discount (Dean/Reader)

Title: Five-Finger Discount

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean x Female Reader

Summary: It's supposed to be a simple case. A little undercover. A little burglary. A little spell. Dash of salt and burn. No muss, no fuss. So, why the hell are you getting these uncontrollable thoughts about Dean's... hands?

Word Count: 10,300

Tags: Hand & Finger Kink, Dean Winchester is a Scoundrel, Dean gets a Manicure, Fluff and Humor, Shameless Smut of the Finger Variety, Dean Winchester Talks Dirty

Notes: Because Jensen just can’t keep his hands to himself. See notes on AO3 for the offender/crime in question.

A persistent tapping on your bedroom door awakens you. It could be late evening or early morning in the windowless bunker.

Before you can check your phone for the actual time, Dean’s voice calls your name from the other side of the door.

You groan. Whatever time it is, it’s not ‘wakey wakey eggs and bakey’ time. “What?”

“Got word from Sam. He’s figured out what’s been killing the inmates in NSP.”

You sit up and feel for the lamp switch. After a turn and snick , you mumble, “Let there be light.” Your voice raises in answer to Dean. “That’s great.”

“Well, not that great.” The conversation is still happening through the closed door. “Sam figures it’s a ghost of a prisoner that died behind bars in 1870.”

“Why not great? Did you want more of a challenge? Ghosts are a milk run.”

You can hear the dramatic sigh, picture the tilt back and forth of his head, and the way his mouth mimics either you or Sam when the sarcasm leans on the excessive. Which is kind of ironic coming from the King of Snark. “Can I come in? You decent?”

“Yes.”

It’s definitely the middle of the night when you get a look at him. Dean’s hair is mussed. There are cheek and chin creases from scuba pillow diving when he sleeps on his stomach. “You got something formal to wear?”

“Huh?”

“A gown, dress, something promish or wedding worthy?”

“Promish?” That question reply to his question earns you a broad stance with hands on hips like a superhero as Dean stares you down. You twirl both hands around to remind him of the non-existent storage space in the bunker. Which should not be a thing in such a huge fortress where men dressed in three piece suits on the daily. “Sure. I have a whole rack of them hanging in my walk-in closet.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, smart ass. Well, we’re gonna have to go do this thing in less than twenty-four hours that needs you in a dress and me in a tux.”

You suck in your lips and try not to laugh at how pissed Dean appears at the thought.

“It’s a charity fundraiser in Lincoln,” he continues. “We have to act like a couple of out-of-state spenders with deep pockets to get our hands on the Hand of Glory that belonged to this ghost.”

“What about Sam? I bet he’d look much better in a dress than I would.”

Dean shrugs. “He’s got the hair for it. But we can’t risk somebody making him.”

Of course. The one time Sam goes investigating on his own. He posed as an FBI agent and poked around too many people. 

You and Dean are going to have to go shopping. The all-out kind. Max out a stolen credit card at the mall kind.

Dean is gonna be miserable. You can’t wait. Grumpy Dean, for some reason, is very entertaining.

“How about you in the dress and me in the tux?” you offer.

“I don’t have the legs for it.” Dean shakes his head. “Get a few more hours of sleep. Gonna be a busy day.”

You’ve been around Sam and Dean for a long time. Long enough to have gotten a little numb and even blase regarding certain things.

The dangers of a hunt. The stench of death. The amount of blood a beheaded vamp body can ooze.

As you tick the tasks off for the heist with a trip to a dress shop earlier and currently helping Dean pick out a tux, another thing you’ve become indifferent to smacks you right in the goddamn face.

The hotness of the Winchester brothers.

You were talking with the owner of the suit store when Dean parted the curtains of the fitting booth he’d been in for five minutes.

And there it was, dressed to the nines, cutting a fine figure in a black tuxedo. 

The plain as day fact of how unfucking-believably gorgeous Dean Winchester is.

Stephen, well-dressed and highly animated, claps hands in front of his face. “Oh. Wow, that is, it’s like you stepped right off the cover of GQ magazine,” he gushes at Dean. “Turn around, turn around.”

Dean blushes, spins on his heels, and averts your and Stephen’s gaze. You’re glad because you can feel the warmth racing over your own cheeks.

“Sir, that is screaming perfection. I don’t even think it needs to be taken in. It’s like a second skin.” You’d think Stephen was buttering him up for a sale if he was overexaggerating. But, he wasn’t.

“Well, good, cause it’s not like we’ve got time for a tailor,” Dean huffs. Then, you hear, “You’re awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I-yeah-it’ll do.”

After Dean swipes the key card, he steps aside and lets you pass the threshold first.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

The suite is swanky. No motels for you on this trip. You’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.

Windows that meet the ceiling give you a sweet view of downtown Lincoln. It’s not the New York skyline, but everything looks impressive from a higher vantage.

Dean pushes the squeaky luggage cart. The door clicks closed solidly behind him. “Alright. We got a few hours to get ourselves presentable. Then we head on over to the Sheldon Museum of Art.” He hangs the garment bags containing his tux and your dress in the closet. The duffle bags each get a chuck onto the king-size bed.

You nod at the reminder. Sam will be at the fundraiser as well. Between the ruse of you and Dean as the wealthy Mitchums from Kansas and Sam’s Agent Dion, you’re confident the case will be resolved before another not-so-innocent victim dies. “Too bad we can’t really enjoy a stay at a place like this.”

“Eh, overpriced. I can’t wait to get home to the bunker. It’s a lot nicer.” He rolls the cart back toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few.”

He’s gone before you can quibble with Dean over your and his idea of luxury. But yours does have windows, excessive amounts of pillows, and room service.

Dean returns to find you’ve commandeered the entire vanity counter with makeup. He chuckles. “Never seen you put any of this crap on before. Do you even know how?”

“Asshole.” You thwack his tummy, but clenched stomach muscles anticipated the retaliation. “I’ll wear makeup for this case out of necessity. I don’t believe in going into debt to keep up with the latest beauty trend. This stuff costs a fortune.”

Dean picks up a packet of press-on nails and looks at the price tag. “Well, hopefully, it’s all worth it.”

As Dean inspects your haul, you notice the dirt under his own nails. “Your hands,” you state.

“Huh?” Dean’s brow furrows. He puts down the box and stares at his fingers.

“Those aren’t the hands of a millionaire.”

He smiles. “I’ve got a great rags to riches story I can use. You see, one day I was shootin’ at some food, and up for the ground came a bubblin’...”

“Ooor, you can look the part.” You cut off his recounting of how the Beverly Hillbillies came to be and sweep a hand in his direction. “Hurry up and shower. I’ll do your nails.”

His eyes bug out. “Do my nails?”

“Relax. Just gonna tidy them up. No polish. Although there’s nothing wrong with a little color on a guy’s nails. But maybe not for this event. We don’t need you to stand out too much.” You think about how he looked in that tux and realize how much he will stand out already at least in your mind. He’s still blinking at you, processing what’s about to happen. “Well, hurry up, Jeb. That oil ain’t gonna find itself.”

You gulp at the sight of a freshly scrubbed, washed, towel-dried Dean. It shouldn’t be affecting you like this. You’ve seen him just out of a shower with his white t-shirt and sweatpants when you’ve been hunting on the road.

Maybe it’s the change of scenery. No motel. No mildew smells. No obnoxiously loud wallpaper to mask the soot and stains. No revving engines or wheels peeling right outside the door. None of the things that usually overwhelm and distract your senses.

His entire face is scrunched up in confused awe. Tools are neatly lined atop a towel on the small island by the kitchenette. Not the usual gun-cleaning ones, though. You clear your throat and pat the breakfast stool beside your seated frame.

“Is this gonna hurt?” he asks.

“Just a little detailing is all.”

He sits and eyes you warily.

A gimme gesture requests his left hand. He provides it, resting his fingers over the bridge of support yours creates. You try not to flinch in surprise at the warmth and weight. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before. But, you’ve never had the opportunity for contact to linger.

You lean down and in, lifting his fingers in inspection and deciding your plan of attack. Damn. They’re, well, you wonder how you haven’t noticed how big they are. His entire hand dwarfs yours in comparison. Dean’s a big dude. He is not as tall as Sam, but considering they’re both over six feet, you shouldn’t be surprised that his digits are substantial. You picture Sam’s hands in your mind’s eye in the usual situations. Tapping away on a keyboard. Flipping through their dad’s journal pages or some gigantic volume of lore in the bunker. Those fingers are long, but their slender and taut, proportionate to Sam’s body type and size. Jolly Green Giant size.

Dean’s? Well, it’s not that they don’t match Dean. They’re beefy, thick, and solid. All the things Dean is. But they’re more like a jumbo sausage sandwich than a hot dog that’s a little too big for the bun. Even the width of his palm seems way above average.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s question calls out and you wonder how long you’ve been staring at his freaking hands.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

You get to work, using a nail brush that’s been soaking in a bowl of warm, sudsy water. A sturdy grip wraps around two of Dean’s fingers - it’s all you can comfortably manage - and the bristles scrub back and forth in quick passes.

Dean chortles. His fingers pull back slightly. The look on his face is one of surprise. You grin and ask, “Did that tickle?”

He snorts. “What? No. I’m not ticklish.”

“Mm-hmm.” You tug his fingers toward the brush. “Hold still then.” You continue the process. Dip the brush in the water bowl. Play Dean’s fingers like a washboard. And you delight in how his jaw clenches and body squirms. He does an adorable shimmy shake that starts at the shoulders and ends with an ass cha-cha. But you only let the torture go on for a minute or two. “Okay. Give them another wash. Then we’ll clip ‘em, file and buff, and these nails will scream private prep school and ivy league polo.”

He rises. “As long as there’s no more brushing.” He punctuates how serious he is about that with one of those fingers right at your mouth.

You swallow the urge to bite that finger.

For someone who was uncertain about the thought of a manicure earlier, Dean is back in a hurry to continue the process. You exaggeratedly shake the nail brush out of the soapy water bowl and softball it into the stainless steel sink a yard away. It clangs about like a noon bell. You raise both hands, “I’m unarmed.”

He snickers, “Not so sure.” He skirts his gaze over the remaining items. “Sharp and stabby things.”

“You have used clippers before. You’re not an actual Cro-Magnon that drags knuckles on the ground and runs nails along some flint.” You grab one stool and carry it to the other side of the island, settling into position for the next step. “Sit and stop acting like a baby.”

“Damn,” he murmurs, following orders and taking his seat from before.

“Hands,” you request.

He harrumphs and splays his fingers atop the terry towel, like a cat stretching and digging in with their claws. His hands are creamy colored and speckled pink from the washing and scrubbing. Ten digits tap along the cloth in wait. And you stare, longer than you should.

What in the holy hell is going on? They’re fingers for chrissakes. The same fingers you’ve seen on Dean all the time, day after day in the bunker or in the car or on a hunt. It’s not like he got a hand transplant or something.

“Come on, Madge.” Dean snaps two of those fingers together. “This is where you’re supposed to tell me I was soaking in it.”

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “Softens hands while you do the dishes?” He adds to the dramatics and unhinges his jaw. “Come on, we’re the same age. You gotta remember that commercial? Palmolive?”

“Oh, right.” You feign recollection, inhale to steady yourself and grab his left hand. It’s down to business time. “I’ve only lost five of my last six clients. Nothing to worry about.”

“Quite the comedian,” he razzes back.

“I am. Apparently you could learn a thing or two from me. The first? A punchline isn’t funny if you have to explain it.”

“Yeah, well…” He begins.

“Maybe come at me with ‘your face is a punchline’?” you suggest.

His lids blink in confusion. “It’s not, though.”

For some reason that shuts you both up.

You spend the next minutes manipulating each of Dean’s fingers, one by one in your palm as you clip. Tick, tick, tick. You give the nails a nice straight edge and round out the sides. His nails are stumpy, boxy and twice the width of yours. His skin is calloused, toughened in the spots you expect. From the thousands of hours he’s gripped Baby’s steering wheel, handled a shotgun, cranked a wrench, slid into the trigger of his Colt. But they are soft in other spots. The patterns of lines criss crossing and connecting like a terrain map enthrall you.

He’s quiet. Watching you work. You’ve forgotten to be mouthy for this bit. It’s hard to focus on anything but this and his breathing. You’ve forgotten the basic steps of inhaling and exhaling.

It’s when you’ve moved on to filing that Dean remembers how to word. “You’re good at this.”

“I should be,” you croak out then clear your throat. “I did my older sister’s nails all the time growing up.”

“Hm, I guess Sammy didn’t get the little brother memo about doing my nails.”

I grin up at him. “Maybe you should have had him watch that Palmolive commercial.”

His laugh is soft. His eyes gleam with that hint of mischief he dons when there is no imminent threat. When life is as close to normal as possible. You wonder what it would be like to take those hands and place them around your waist. Guide him to hold you steady, secure.

He opens his mouth, stops to lick his top lip.

It’s taking everything in your power to not catapult over the island and slam your lips against his.

He finally speaks. “We should get ready.”

And your daydreaming dissipates just like that.   

Two hours later, you and Sam wait outside the St. Charbel Chapel in Calvary Catholic Cemetery. It’s the closest church and holy ground from the museum Sam had found in his research.

A fire truck zooms down a nearby street, siren wailing.

You wait for Dean. 

Things had not gone according to plan.

At the fundraiser, Sam got cornered near the crudités by a Lancaster County Sheriff’s Office deputy. From what you overheard, Sam’s cover had been blown. He was in imminent danger of being arrested by Deputy Dickens for impersonating a federal agent. Dean was off in one of the acquisition storage rooms searching for the Hand of Glory.

You all were SOL.

You did what any hunter interested in self-preservation would do. Walked over to the nearest fire alarm and inconspicuously pulled the lever. Alarms went off. In the chaos of disgruntled partygoers filing out of the building, Sam dropped the deputy to the ground with a combo shoulder check and leg sweep. You were down on the floor in a flash, asking the lawman if he was alright. Before he could reply, you held a handkerchief doused with your travel-size bottle of chloroform to his mouth and nose. A clutch could only hold so much—such an inconvenience.

Sam pushed the passed-out deputy under the appetizer station’s floor-length tablecloth. You both did a hurried power walk past the crowd gathered in front of the museum. Sam tried his best to slow down his stride enough for you to keep up wearing heels. At least you only had four blocks to cover to end up at the cemetery, the agreed-upon meetup location.

You pace in wait. “He’ll be here,” Sam states with conviction.

You never want to leave a man behind. Especially not Dean.

Sure enough, Dean’s shadowed figure jogs up the cemetery walk in the dark minutes later. You recognize his panting first.

Sam shines a light in Dean’s direction. He’s a bit disheveled from whatever he had to do to skip out of the museum undetected. The hair, styled in a neat part earlier, is now askew.

“Guessing I have you two to thank for having to hop out a bathroom window and into thorny rose bushes.”

You shrug. “Sam was about to get handcuffed.”

Dean ponders for a moment. “Context is important to determine whether that’s good or bad for Sam.”

“Dean, come on, did you get it?” Sam asks with an impatient wave of his hand.

Dean pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and flaps it open with a wrist snap. He pulls out a gnarled, desiccated object under his jacket's lapel. “I did get it, using my five-finger discount.”

The burning ritual had at least gone smoother than the rest of the evening. Sam dropped the two of you around the back of the hotel in his rental car. You both had left Baby in the connected garage and taken a cab to the museum. 

“See you all at the bunker.” He smiles, energized, and pumped from a successful hunt. He’s glowing and adorable. You realize you have gotta dial back the internal ogling of your hunting partners and quick or it’s gonna get all kinds of uncomfortable in your head.

“See ya, Sammy.” Dean grins and salutes.

“Don’t take too long to get out of town.” Sam advises, flicks his bangs out of his eye line with a shampoo commercial head whip, then peels off with a wave.

The key card lets you sneak in through the poolside.

The ride up the elevator starts quiet. You spend the time zoning out and staring at the tapered triangle of shoulder and back that makes up Dean’s tuxedo jacket.

So, dialing back the ogling is going great.

“You looked really good tonight,” Dean murmurs. You catch his gaze in the door’s reflective surface. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “you still look really good. I never got the chance to tell ya earlier.”

The attention straightens your posture. You adjust the spaghetti strap of your little black dress. “Thanks.” It’s all you can think of to respond. You tear your focus away from the eye crinkles, now the newest sexy thing you’ve failed to notice. It’s safer to inspect the corners of the floor for dust. The small enclosed space heats due to Dean Winchester occupying it.

The elevator dings and you hold in a sigh of relief. You exit first, then halt so he leads. You trail behind him in silence to the room. He opens the door. Your steps scoot past his body.

“Got time to change?” Hopeful, you’re already rifling through your duffel for your jeans and flannel.

“Sam’s right. We should probably bolt.”

You groan.

“Let’s put some miles between us and Lincoln.” It’s not really a suggestion.

“Fine.” You give in, knowing he’s right.

You aren’t tired on the drive back. The sense of accomplishment after a successful case turns most hunters into live wires, you included. 

You and Dean have been chatting about the hunt. The lackluster food at the fundraiser. Sam’s impressive Latin skills. An apparent millionaire whose breath stunk like a month old convenience store burrito. And you knew what one of those smelled like from unfortunate firsthand experience. The conversation switches to some repairs that need to be done around the bunker. A casserole recipe on Pinterest you want to try. Who’s going to get the treat of washing all the MOL classic cars in the garage. The topics pogo all over the place. You love these moments with the brothers. 

You’re an hour and some change out from Lincoln, halfway to Lebanon, when Dean has an idea.

His finger wags at a mile marker. “There’s a decent bar in Bruning. Wanna grab a drink to celebrate?”

You stare at his unbuttoned tux jacket, then your dress. “Like this?”

“Sure. Why not?” It’s not really a question as he takes the exit.

You drew the line at wearing heels in the bar. Dean grabbed your worn cowboy boots from Baby’s trunk. He leaned against the car beside your open passenger door. You tugged on boots, leaned forward, giving any passersby a free show down the front of your dress. Arms folded, Dean scowled and puffed out his chest to any male who dared to glance in your direction.

A minute later you both entered the bar and did the usual routine without speaking. Head to respective bathrooms. Clean up and make yourselves respectable looking. But as you blotted your foundation and appreciated the staying power of your makeup in the mirror - okay, maybe that setting spray was worth the price - you considered who you were making yourself respectable for?

It’s not like either one of you were expecting to get lucky tonight. The bunker was less than two hours away. No one was gonna pick up a local and take them back to their motel room.

You applied a fresh coat of red berry lipstick.

So, that left only you and Dean freshening up for… each other?

You scoffed at the ridiculous idea, ran fingers through your hair.

A drink. One drink. To celebrate a job well done.

“That’s all it is,” you mumble.

You’ve played darts for an hour. Dean’s on his third whiskey. You’ve downed four fruity rum concoctions, mainly because you loved hearing Dean order the drink. 

Entertainment was the least he could do after beating you for the sixth time.

The waitress stops at your high top and grabs the empty plates and glasses. “What else can I get you two?”

Dean clutches a dart, deep in focus, squinting at the target board. “You wanna nother Bahama Mama?”

You suppress a giggle and smile at the waitress. “Just more water. Thanks.”

“We should probably load up on the grease before we head home.” Dean peers at the waitress over a shoulder. “Maybe some fries, darlin’, to go along with one last shot of whiskey?”

“Sure thing, sugar.” She smiles, then waits for Dean to turn around before eyeing his backside in approval. With a grin, she taps your bare forearm. “Lucky you,” she whispers.

You are lucky. But not for the reason the waitress thinks. Being around Sam and Dean means safety and security. The eye candy is merely a bonus. One you are debating if you should indulge in more often or continue to restrict your caloric intake.

After all, there’s nothing wrong with appreciating a work of art.

Dean had flung his necktie in Baby’s backseat and unbuttoned his collar during the drive. The casual way he now wore the tux was even more attractive. “Probably a good idea if you lay off the alcohol. It’s definitely affecting your game tonight.” He grins.

You lean your heavy weighted head against a palm for support. “Yeah, must b’it,” you slur, more than you like. Your gaze zones in on his fingers gripping the dart. Those damn fingers have been a distraction all night. He has to be unaware he’s sabotaging any ability to focus. Dean is an outright flirt with his targets. You’ve seen him lay on the charm thick and sticky the same way he slaps peanut butter and jelly on white bread. Subtlety has never been his thing.

Speaking of targets. The dart launches out of his hand and lands dead center. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Dean performs the ka-ching motion for what feels like the hundredth time that night. Normally, it’s annoying, but you battle your lids open to stare at his clenched fist in awe. Again. He slides onto the bar stool and inspects you with a concerned smile. “You usually drink me under the table. Sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” You hum. 

The waitress whizzes by and deposits Dean’s shot and a basket of fries. Dean’s voice floats in the air expressing his thanks to, you think he says, Linda. Then a pointed order hits you right in the face. “Hey, eat something. I ain’t carrying you to the car like some swoony duchess on those shows you binge.”

“They’ve got carriages, not cars.” You blink over and over and straighten up. A handful of fries fill your mouth. Your brain hasn’t caught up in time to tell you to shut up and chew. “Yud make a ghood ake.”

“What?” Dean smiles at you like he’s happened across his favorite Scooby-Doo episode while channel surfing.

You gulp down the gluey mashed goodness. “You’d make a good rake.”

“What’s that? Some kind of man servant? I was a handmaiden once.” He indulges in some of the fries before you eat them all. Those fingers push them past his lips.

“No. A rake’s-” You huff at the gall when he attentively licks the grease off his thumb. His tongue is quite, um, “Nimble.”

He frowns, obviously confused. “A rake’s nimble?”

You shake out the cobwebs in your brain, tripping you up with a collision of thoughts. “A rake’s a ladies’ man,” you mutter.

His spine stiffens, shoulders pop back in pride. “I do try to please the ladies every chance I get.”

“We are all well aware.” More fries thankfully save you from saying anything that may humiliate.

“Guess those aren’t your favorite characters. You probably like the stuffy types that are all serious, with their noses up in the air or stuck in a book.”

You shrug. “Nah, I go for the rogues.”

One of Dean’s brows quirk up. “The dangerous type?” One side of his mouth lifts as well.

“Yeah, a scoundrel. You know, the one you can’t quite figure out. They’ve got this bad reputation or some sordid past. But, they go after what they want. Take what they want.” You hum again and close your eyes. You can still see Dean’s grin in your mind’s eye.

“Too bad I don’t fit the bill.”

You freeze. Eyes still closed. He didn’t just… did he?

“I mean. It’d be all kinds of wrong. Me going for something I wanted, damn the consequences.”

You inhale and grip the curve of the table top. You open your eyes to find him sipping at his whiskey. “Don’t fuck with me,” you whisper.

He gives you a toe curling smile now. The glass clinks onto the table. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not your type.”

“I-wh-” It’s too late. You’ve never been on the receiving end of what is most definitely Dean Winchester flirting. “What makes you think that?”

He leans in. His breath meets your inhale and you take in all the spice and warmth. “I wouldn’t do a thing to mess this up. Not unless, you know, I knew.”

You nod, dumbstruck. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, yeah.” A whoosh of fatigue makes your head spin.

Dean smiles. “We live together, hunt together. Packed like sardines together twenty-four seven sometimes. Wouldn’t want to mess any of that up. Unless I knew, you know?”

“Knew what?” Your chin drops to your chest despite your best efforts. The weight of your body gets ready to do a face plant on the table top. You squish your lids shut tight and groan in horror at the inevitable.

But, Dean is there to save you. Again. His fingers swoop in to cradle your jaw and lift up your head. The embarrassment and alcohol finally overtake you. As you fade, you hear, “Maybe I’ll tell you when you’ll remember the answer.”

You woke up in your bed, back at the bunker. Again, with no idea if it was morning or night. No idea how much time had passed since…

You spring upright to sit. And, yeah, that was a mistake. Your head pounds. Your mouth is dry and tacky. Your stomach feels like it got turned upside down. Not that much time has passed since…

You groan and lay back down, slow and gentle. You piece the last snippets of memory together.

You stare up at the ceiling, grateful for the darkness. You want it to suck you up whole.

Did you pass out in the middle of Dean hitting on you? Did Dean end up swooping you up and putting you in the Impala? Driving you home passed out in the back seat - or God forbid the front passenger seat with you lolling about, mouth probably open and drooling - then carrying you throughout the bunker to your bedroom? Did he…?

You pat your chest and feel the spaghetti straps and silky fabric of your little black dress. You sigh. He had taken pity on you and only stripped you of your cowboy boots.

There’s a soft tap on your bedroom door.

“Oh no.” You pull the blanket over your head, mortified. You don’t think you can face him.

But it’s not Dean that says your name. It’s Sam.

“You alright? I heard you… uh… moaning.”

“Yeah,” you squeak. “Hungover.”

You think you hear Sam snicker. “Dean said you outpaced him by a mile. In darts and drinks.”

That makes you pause to recall. No, you definitely don’t think any of that’s accurate.

“He made some breakfast before he went out, if you’re hungry.”

Great, he can’t bear to face you, either. “Thanks, Sam.”

“If you’re up for it later, I could use some assistance researching.”

You take a measured breath to quell the nausea. “I’ll let you know.”

You’d chewed some aspirin and drank glass after glass of water from the sink in your room and somehow passed out for a few more hours.

You drag yourself out of bed around noon and shower in an effort to resemble something close to human. The stomach growls lead you to the bunker kitchen. At first, you smile at the plate of pancakes Dean covered with a clean kitchen towel for you. A frown follows at the odd shape of them. They aren’t his usual silver dollar pancakes stacked six high.

You tilt your head, attempting to figure out what Buttermilk Banksy was trying to create. The two pancakes, side by side on a large plate, obviously started out as circles. But then, four long tendrils were added along the top of each and a little offshoot one on the side. A turkey? Why the hell would Dean make turkeys? It wasn’t anywhere near Thanksgiving time.

“‘Bout time, sleepy head.” Dean’s voice wafts in from the doorway. He strolls in without a care in the world. There’s no hesitancy to lock eyes with you. Which is good. That has to mean you didn’t make more of a fool of yourself than you remember. He tugs on the fridge door. “Do you want something else or those pancakes enough?” He’s asking the interior of the refrigerator more than you, his head circling the shelves. “Was gonna pile on the grease but thought you might need to take it easy after last night.”

“No, this is great. Thank you.” You keep your voice low, hoping he’ll get the hint and not make too much noise.

He seems to, clicking the door shut softly after grabbing a cold slice of pizza. “Oh, I thought we’d do a movie night in the Dean cave. I bought angus ground beef for burgers. I’ll make some potato wedges. Grabbed your favorite microwave popcorn, movie theater butter.”

The menu, miraculously, doesn’t make your stomach lurch into panicked somersaults. “None of that sounds Sam approved.”

“He’s got that author signing book store thing in Stockton tonight.”

Oh, right. You’d forgotten for a moment how excited Sam was to listen to some guy read a chapter from his book on the evils of the Federalist Society.

“Think you’ll be up for it?” Dean asks, brows raised hopeful.

You smile. “I think I will.”

“Good.” He captures a third of the pizza slice in one bite. After four chews and a swallow he finishes with, “I’ll go easy on you.” The grin he flashes catches you off guard. It’s that one that if Sam saw it, he’d suspect you and Dean had a secret.

Problem was, you didn’t know what the secret was.

“We got weapons to clean in an hour. No matter what Sam says about research.” Dean taps the door sill on the way out of the kitchen. “Meet you in the library. Don’t be late.” He disappears.

You stare down at your breakfast, which is now technically lunch, and a queasy feeling erupts. But not from the hangover or the thought of eating.

The pancakes Dean made. You think you know what the shapes are now.

A pair of hands.

Time in the library with Sam and Dean is pure torture. 

You’re sat equidistant between the two of them, in the middle of one of the long massive wooden tables. Sam is on one end, flipping through page after page of a volume on corporal punishment. He’s trying to work out an easy cheat sheet - a work flow chart - that you all can use in the future. If you can identify what crime someone was charged with committing way back when, you’d have a better idea of the dismembered mummified appendage to track.

Dean occupies the other head of the table. A worn cloth laid out in front of him, all manner of weapons lined in a neat row atop it, awaiting his hands.

His hands. God, you hope the pancakes were merely a cheeky, inside joke on Dean’s part. Maybe it was a reminder about your insistence on the manicure. Or the friggin’ Palmolive commercial that, thanks Dean, you can’t get out of your head either. Because now all you can think about is Dean’s massive fingers dipped in a teeny tiny glass bowl filled with sudsy dish detergent. 

Between Sam’s page turns and Dean’s clink of weapons your brain can’t settle or calm down. You’re also trying to appease both hunters. You’re reading through a book on your right and sharpening a machete on your left. 

“That jugglin’ act might leave you with more than a paper cut if you aren’t careful,” Dean chides.

You swallow down the urge to quip something back. It’s only when the whetstone clears the curve of the machete and halts at the tip that you tear your gaze from the task and stare at Dean. “I can handle it.”

He smirks. “Oh, I’m sure you can HANDle it.” He shrugs. “Just wouldn’t want you to lose a FINGER.”

“How about you quit distracting her? She’s doing you a favor.” Sam’s brows lift pointedly at Dean. “And besides, why do you insist on cleaning weapons here when you could literally be doing it anywhere else in the bunker?”

Dean curls up the fakest smile at Sam. “Cause I love your company.” 

The boys settle after a few more grunts and scoffs at each other. You plunge nose deep into lore and wish the pages were waves pulling you out to sea. 

There’s no way Dean’s emphasis on “hand” and “finger” were accidental. Dean’s pretty intuitive. But you are a pretty good actor in your own right when you need to be. However, there’s still a chance that you said or did something when you were too intoxicated to remember.

It’s not helping that Dean’s performing his weapon cleaning like a goddamn seduction. Mr. Hand Model takes apart the sawed off, cleans the inside of and around the barrel, reassembles, and clicks all the pieces back into place. His nails look perfect, shiny and slick with the gun oil. His beefy fingers curl around the wood and steel in a way that makes you want to trade places with the firearm.

You somehow endure for 45 minutes. Last night’s indulgences are blamed in an excuse to head back to your bedroom. As you preemptively wish Sam an enjoyable outing later, Dean reminds you to rest up for dinner and a movie.

Ugh. You know how Dean gets when he won’t let something go that he finds hilarious. This could go on for a while.

It’s a trap. It’s gotta be.

Dean’s lowering your defenses with good food and good company.

It all started in the kitchen where dinner was served. He wasn’t kidding about the burgers. He made quarter pound medium rare works of art with cheese and all the toppings. The bun was Texas Toasted out. The guy even used the air fryer to produce ridiculously addicting potato wedges with a spicy paprika and chili powder coating.

Then, it was Dean cave time. No beer in sight, you were given pop to drink, with an offhanded “no repeat performance of last night” remark. You slid down the couch, groaning, pulling the hoodie over your face for dramatic effect. He grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting between you on the couch and added, “You know, so you don’t pass out midway through the movie.”

You inhale the buttery goodness beside you and relax, popping back up in your seat. A swig of sugar wakes up your lethargic post-meal brain and settles the nerves that Dean is up to something. “So, what masterpiece do you have for us tonight?” you query.

He presses a button on one remote and the lights dim. Another remote in hand, another button press, and the television screen blares with an all too familiar soundtrack.

“The Empire Strikes Back.” You nod. “Good choice.”

“It’s your favorite one,” Dean reminds you.

“Yeah. Yoda. Duh.”

Dean chuckles.

Things fall into that easy going movie commentary that you and Dean are so fond of doing. It drives Sam crazy when he's watching stuff with the two of you. You’re spouting behind the scenes facts you know you’ve told Dean a half a dozen times already (like how the puppeteer who’s voicing Yoda also voices your favorite muppet, Fozzie Bear). Dean adds his own sound effects when the AT-ATs are firing, points out every Wilhelm scream, and helps Harrison Ford out by quoting all of Solo’s lines.

Leia is fixing some equipment on the Falcon and you comment, “I like the braid updo more than the cinnamon rolls.”

“Eh, I don’t know. The combo of beauty and baked goods is pretty hard to beat.”

Solo walks in and tries to help. Leia pushes him away. You sigh. “Here they go.”

Dean turns to you and raises an eyebrow. In perfect sync with Solo’s dialogue he utters, “Hey Your Worship, I’m only trying to help.”

You eye roll. “Would you please stop calling me that?” If it's a quote battle Dean wants, it’s on. If Sam were here, he’d be so done with the both of you right now.

“Sure, Leia.”

A huff for good measure. “You make it so difficult sometimes.”

Dean leans in. “I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though. Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I’m all right.”

Wait. Wait. Oh no. You don’t have to be looking at the screen to know what happens next. Leia hurts her HAND trying to turn a lever. You clam up at all the fucking context this scene now holds for you and Dean. You can’t say the next lines. Because you know that Solo grabs Leia’s HAND as she says, “Occasionally, maybe… when you aren’t acting like a scoundrel.”

That’s when last night’s rum-infested confessions cut to the front of the memory queue. You adore scoundrels, rogues.

Dean doesn’t miss a beat, though. He even gazes down at one of your HANDS. He continues the performance. “Scoundrel?” Face half cast in shadow, his lids widen, irises still manage to catch the light and entrance you. “Scoundrel?” A huge grin emerges. “I like the sound of that.”

Solo is massaging Leia’s HAND the whole time.

Leia whispers, “Stop that.”

Dean replies, “Stop what?” Though he’s not questioning the screen. He’s locked eyes with you. Daring you to break away first.

Leia answers, even softer. “Stop that. My hands are dirty.”

Dean tilts his head, uncaring. “My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” Oh, Leia, Don’t egg him on.

“You’re trembling,” Dean’s voice is softer. He’s edging closer, but there’s only so much distance he can cover with the popcorn bowl in the way.

You decide now’s as good a time as any to try and act your way out of a paper bag. “I’m not trembling.” You coat your response with steel.

Dean is only encouraged by your participation. “You like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

You ponder for a moment. “I happen to like nice men.”

“I’m nice men.” Dean offers with complete sincerity.

You scoff. “No, you’re not. You’re…”

The music swells. Solo and Leia kiss.

But, you and Dean just stare at each other, for what feels like an eternity. You know C3PO is gonna interrupt the lovebirds at any moment. It’s the only lifeline you have, so you wait for the robot with the worst timing in history to save you from embarrassment.

“Guys?” Sam’s voice calls from the hallway.

You snap, stick straight, your back pressed against the seat. Sam must have come in through the garage.

Dean sighs. “Yeah, Sammy. Come on in. Back so soon?”

The door flings open. Warm ceiling lights from the hall halo Sam’s figure. “You know how they say, never meet your heroes? Totally valid advice tonight.” Sam stumbles into the room, all lanky limbs, and sinks into the cushy side chair. He runs fingers through his hair, his profile scrutinizing the screen. “Jedi?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, how are we related?”

The three of you watch the rest of the movie without much commentary.

And you and Dean do not quote any other lines.

You cleaned up the dinner mess, alone, in the kitchen. You insisted it was the least you could do and Dean didn’t put up much resistance.

You find Dean’s bedroom door open on your way to your own for the night. You stop in the doorway to thank him again.

He’s putting away some shirts in his dresser, back turned. He looks comfy, cozy, showered, and perfect. You compose yourself in a split second when he senses you and cocks his head to the door. “Hey, everything okay?”

It’s his usual question, always assuming something needs fixing or solving. But, you sense extra concern in the tone this time.

You nod, wanting to ease the tide of Dean Winchester’s worry. “Thank you. Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah, even with Chewbacca?”

You chuckle. “Be nice.”

He waves you in as he wraps up his laundry. You oblige and sit by the tiny corner table. “Yeah, you’re right. Solo actually wouldn’t mind Chewy hanging out with him and Leia.”

You smile. Apparently, it’s Star Wars character dissection time. “So, if Sam’s not Chewbacca…”

The drawer squeaks closed. “Luke.”

“Han doesn’t mind Luke. Annoyed, sometimes. But, everyone annoys Han at one point or another.”

Dean sits at the edge of the bed, facing you. He stretches, hands entwined and arms raised overhead. A white t-shirt hugs his form here and there. You get a glimpse of perky nipples pressing against fabric. “Luke was competition. Before the brother-sister bombshell,” Dean states.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“But, the three of them, they made a good team,” Dean continues.

You nod, deliberate and slow.

“It only takes one person to start getting feelings for another one in the trio and then the whole galaxy is in jeopardy.” Dean taps the pads of his fingers together.

You sigh. You didn’t want to have to rat yourself out. But, Dean’s got a point. So, how do you go about telling him you’re finding him unbelievably attractive all of a sudden? And how do you ease his apparent worry? What, you’ll do your best to keep it in check? It won’t interfere with the work you do?

“We’re a good team, right? You, me, Sammy?” Dean cuts through the silence with the questions. He scrubs at the nape of his neck.

“I-I’d like to think so. But, you’re right, Dean. It can throw the whole balance off in a good working relationship if someone starts to catch feelings that aren’t reciprocated.”

His eyebrows form a distraught mountain peak. “So, it’s true?”

He looks so unhappy at the possibility, but you’ve gotta be an adult about it. “It just started happening during the last case.” You shrug. “But, I don’t have any intention of acting on them.” A hand raises. “Don’t worry.”

His lips purse tight. Nostrils flare. He’s deep in thought. Finally, he says, “But, you won’t know if you don’t act on it.” He nods more to convince himself now. “You should talk to Sam about how you feel.”

You blink, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Hey, I gave it a ‘good ole high school dropout that earned his GED’ try. We have established that I am not your type.”

“Wha-?”

“I’ll be fine with the two of you being a thing. I want to see you and Sam happy. If that means you both, together, that’s great.”

Your hands circle in front of you. “Whoa, whoa. Back up a minute.” Suddenly, your heart is racing.

“What?” He’s got that vacant puppy dog expression, every muscle in his face relaxed, wide open eyes.

You steady your breathing. “What made you think you were my type?” You can’t help the question. You only hope it doesn’t sound belittling or sarcastic. Right now, it’s your last defense of self-protection and attempt at fact finding. You gotta know if you are misinterpreting the revelation that Dean may in fact be upset if you and Sam were an item. Because… he wants you two to be an item?!

“You were acting… weird… ever since Lincoln and the manicure.” He twiddles his fingers. “I was picking up signals that weren’t there, I guess.” He shakes his head and mumbles. “Or, I probably was looking too hard to find something that wasn’t there. Like those times you tell me I’m sniffing around the wrong dog’s butt.”

You squish your lids at how crass you can be. It’s giving you less reasons to think he could find you attractive in any capacity. “Okay, but why was that so important to know?”

His arms extend from side to side. He’s getting riled up and more than a little miffed. But, you know that might work in your favor. His mouth tends to run on autopilot and the truth comes flying out. “Our, I don’t know, petri dish of co-existing in this jack-in-the-box wouldn’t get fucked up. I wouldn’t go off half-cocked and do something I’ve been wanting to do for a while unless I knew, for sure, that you felt the same way I did.” His hands retract and fall in his lap. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at his socked feet. “But, you don’t.”

You’ve got actual fucking butterflies beating their wings like bongo drums in your stomach. “What have you wanted to do for a while?”

His eyes track up to you. He’s inspecting you, hard. That’s doing nothing to quell the excitement inside. “What’s the point in telling you that now?”

“Because, maybe… you’re wrong and… you are my type.”

Dean’s lids lift a quarter of an inch. It’s a minute, micro reaction. But you catch it.

“Maybe I’ve been ignoring it for a while, because, like you. I didn’t want to mess things up. I love Sam.” You swallow, ready to bare all. “But, I haven’t been thinking about what his hands could do to me,” you whisper.

Dean inhales, sharp and quick through his nose at that confession. He exhales, adding, “Don’t fuck with me.”

You can’t do anything but grin in a way that you’re sure makes you look like a goddamn idiot. “I should have said that to you numerous times today. The pancakes. The gun cleaning. Freakin’ Han massaging Leia’s HAND!”

His lids widen. “Hey, it was me testing my theory. Like when we gotta douse someone with holy water to make sure they aren’t possessed. All but the movie, though. Swear I did not remember that scene until a few seconds before it started happening.” He sits up, rubs palms on his sweatpant clad thighs. “Well, okay, I didn’t remember the hand thing, but I wanted to see how you reacted to like THE best scoundrel ever.” Now, he’s grinning. “Been thinkin’ about my hands, huh?”

You roll your eyes merely to play along. “Alright, don’t get a big head.”

He cocks his head like a devilish rogue. “No need for a big head when I’ve got big hands.”

The giggle escapes before you can lasso it.

Dean slides his gaze up your seated frame. It’s a filthy, seedy expression. And hot as fuck. He stops to stare at your mouth, then licks his own. When his eyes meet yours, he commands, “Come on over and show me what you’ve been thinking of.” He pats his thighs. “I’ve got a nice warm seat for ya.”

He’s kidding, right? He wants you to sit on his lap. As if you’d even consider it.

And, yeah, you aren’t considering it. There’s no time for consideration when your legs have already propelled you out of the seat. You give his bedroom door a swing in a passing thought about closing it for privacy.

You can see the look of surprise on Dean’s face as you march over to the bed. But it’s mixed with want and eagerness. He opens his arms in welcome.

Warmth prickles your cheeks at the forwardness you display in accepting the invitation. One knee props up on the bed beside him. You anchor hands onto his shoulders, feel those fingers fan and lock onto your waist, and you bring the rest of your body up to straddle his lap.

You sigh, staring down at that kid in a candy store grin of his, and marvel at how very right it all feels. You settle, your ass firmly atop his thighs. The heat of him is immediate.

“Been wanting you like this,” he whispers, his nose brushing the skin exposed around your collar. A hand molds to the side of your neck, holding you in place. You shiver at the lips skirting upwards along the channel of your throat. “Now who’s ticklish?” It’s meant to tease, but his voice has lost that hint of mirth. It’s deeper, daring you to deny his observation as anything other than fact. “Maybe you aren’t ready for my hands. All.” A kiss at the juncture where your lobe meets your jaw. “Over.” A peck at the tip of your chin. He threads his fingers into the base of your hairline. He eases your head with a smooth tilt down. You lock eyes with his green ones once again. “You.”

The only response you can give is to connect your lips to his. Feeling the pliant, soft give of his mouth against yours. Then his insistent lean up and forward, forcing you to stand your ground while seated on his lap. You have to demonstrate your want is equal to his.

And you want. You so want.

Whatever you’re doing, his approving moan eggs you to continue. With each swipe and dip and dive of your lips, your mouth opens a bit more. The access encourages Dean’s tongue to taste. He laps at you gently, swirls around just enough that your core begins to ache. He pulls away and you groan. You’re drunk with desire, heavy and heady. 

Your lids blink open slow and sleepy. Thankfully you find Dean’s looking as blissed out as you feel. He’s inspecting your reaction through a hazy gaze. His hand captures the side of your face. Five pressure points sink into your skin. His eyes flicker to your mouth to watch his thumb outline the curve of your lip. The pad tugs and drags at your skin.

It’s only a second of wordless communication between the two of you. He asks with a lifting of his lids. You agree with an affirmative blink.

His thumb delves into your mouth, up to the first knuckle. You wrap your lips around. Suck with the gentlest of pressure.

His mouth lifts into a slight smile. “Good girl,” he whispers.

And, fuck if that doesn’t open your floodgates. You’re slick and ready.

Dean’s other hand runs along the waistband of your yoga pants. “You been thinking about my hands all over you…” His thumb glides under the fabric of your panties. “Taking you apart, piece by piece.” He delves farther down, until he taps the top of your mound. His jaw clenches at your gasp of anticipation. His thumb hooks under your tongue against the floor of your mouth to express just how in command he is right now. “You gonna do what I say, Your Worship?”

You nod. You’ll don a pair of cinnamon buns if he tells you to right now.

He smirks, cocky and full of confidence. “The better I make you feel down here...” He works his thumb between your folds and presses against your clit. You squirm in his lap. “The better you suck with that beautiful mouth, yeah?”

You nod again. He releases the pressure in your mouth, circles your bundle of nerves. He slips and slides while his fingers splay over your stomach to anchor in place. You latch onto his thumb again and suck on it like a straw

“Pretty sure this isn’t as wet as you’re gonna get,” he comments like a fucking weatherman. After only a few seconds, he sighs and shakes his head. “Too many fucking clothes.”

You’ve only sparred with Dean a handful of times. Every time, he’s bested you with graceful movements and quick action. He disengages from you for what must have only been seconds, spinning you around in his grasp and pinning your back to the mattress. He’s whipping off your t-shirt, pants, and underwear. Leaving you in only your bra.

He leers over you, hands running up the underside of your thighs. He kneels onto the bed, all of his clothes still on, to wedge against your ass. All of you is on proper display for him. And he takes it all in.

“Right, Gorgeous. Where were we?” One hand rides its way up your chest back to your mouth. You accept his index finger between your lips this time. His other hand resumes playing with your clit. “Hm. Much better.” 

A gasp escapes from your mouth. Your tongue ejects his finger so you can point out, “Who’s the one with too many fucking clothes on now?”

“All good things come to those who wait, darlin’.” He settles further, criss crossing over top of your flesh. His legs sandwich your right thigh while he strums your pussy. The hope of what else is to come pokes into your side through his sweatpants. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, slipping his finger into your mouth again. The pull of his left hand guides you to lean your head toward the right. He settles his beefy forearm onto the mattress above your shoulder.

His chest pins you down in a kinky wrestling move. Teeth snag your ear lobe. He applies pressure to the swollen flesh over a ridge of bone, then uses a flicking motion that makes your thigh twitch in delight.

You're sloppy with your technique of licks and sucks as he feeds you another digit. But, really, how is any gal supposed to mind their manners with Dean Winchester fingering her? You groan, helpless, as he explores your folds, finds your entrance with two tips. “I know you got a thing for my hands,” his hot breath tunnels into your ear canal, “but, if you want, I can fill you up real good with something else.”

You can’t reply with any actual words, only moans of agreement. The erection pressing into your hip bone sure does feel substantial. If it’s anything like his fingers - two fingers are currently surfing around your tongue and rubbing against your palate - he’ll have no problem filling you up.

To ground yourself in the reality of the situation, you snatch at the hem of his shirt and tug. Your pelvis tilts up at the slow insertion of one of his other fingers down below. “Damn,” he pants into your ear. “How long’s it been since someone took care of you, all nice and proper? So- so tight and wet.” He hums. “And warm.” A languid slide out with one finger, only to be accompanied with another when he pushes back inside. “Feel so good. Gonna feel even better around my cock after I make you come… Princess.”

You will not ever admit to the fact that you squealed with Dean’s fingers in your mouth. That you convulsed after only seconds of him playing with your clit and stretching open your hole.

Fireworks continue to skyrocket in your head. Your body tipped into the oversensitive zone. You’re aware of every bit of him plastered against you. He’s made you slick with arousal and sweat. Layers of fabric cling to skin. You should be suffocating with him laying atop you, but he feels like a weighted blanket. Warm, secure. Dean’s fingers don’t retract from your mouth or pussy. They are frozen in place. Your teeth nibble one set. Your muscles spasm around the other. 

He hasn’t moved. Hot breath huffs hard into the crook of your neck with an occasional sharp inhale and hold. You close your eyes. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could fall asleep like this.

“Was that… too much?” He deep-throat whispers in your ear now. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“N-mph-,” you chortle around his fingers.

“Shit, sorry.” He pulls his hand away from your mouth, the other slowly out of your hot core. Matching sighs release from you both.

“No,” you heave, and his chest rises up and off. “It was… awesome.”

He’s in your face now, all green eyes and pink lips, a veil of freckles along the bridge of his nose and forehead. “Yeah?”

You squint, trying to focus on all the glorious aspects. He’s studying you. You get the feeling he’s really not sure. “Why is the ladies man doubting himself all of sudden?” you tease, rocking to shuffle him out of the daze.

A shrug. “It’s you. I don’t always read you right.”

You lean your head back into his memory foam in an attempt to make full eye contact. “I don’t know how many ways you can misread giving me a mindblowing orgasm.”

He blinks, cautious. “Is what I did going to… you know… change things between us?”

“Oh.” You stop, dart your gaze to the ceiling past his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Oh, absolutely. I mean,” you pause, “how could it not?” You shake your head and feel his entire body go rigid. “It’s gonna be so awkward and uncomfortable around here.” 

When you dare to look at him, there’s a hint of something you don’t see often on Dean’s face. You think it might be fear.

You can’t bear it any longer. “I mean, I can already imagine the disgusted look on Sam’s face when we start making out right in front of him.”

Within seconds, the expression turns to one of relief and amusement, accompanied by the charming cockiness that’s gonna turn you to goo at the most inopportune moments from here on out. “Well, we don’t have to tell him right away. It might be fun to, you know, sneak around right under his nose.” He relaxes, sinks into you again. “I could have you all sorts of ways, in all sorts of places, doing our best not to get caught.”

You smile. “Don’t want to tell your brother you’ve stolen my heart with that five-finger discount of yours?”

He chuckles, rolls his eyes, then cups the heat of your folds again. “I mean, I sucked at Biology, but pretty sure this ain’t your heart, darlin’.”

“You’re wrong, you know?”

He blinks, all sass and spectacle, “This IS your heart?” He squeezes.

You peck his lips, roll your eyes, and curl arms around his waist. “No. Solo’s got nothing on you. YOU are the best scoundrel.”

A breathtaking kiss makes you all lightheaded. When he finally pulls away and allows you to exhale, he lifts one side of his mouth into a confident grin. “I know.”

THE END

[aerodaltonimperial]

trick or treat! happy halloween ^_^ 🍫 - spooky any chrono or wrestling ship you like

(ALSO LATE, BUT IT WORKED IN MY FAVOR CAUSE I COULD TIE IN LAST NIGHT LOL)

The floor is sticky and wet when Jack finds his way into the janitor's closet. It smells, too; people don't really convey that on television in police procedurals or horror movies, but blood pooled smells, overwhelmingly so, and the rotting tang of it makes his eyes prick. He picks his way around the mop - ironic to have that so close to where it's needed - and finds himself staring down at Darby's wide, unseeing eyes.

Jack pauses for a moment, before sighing and leaning over the man's fucking corpse. The knife handle's so slick that it takes three times to get his fingers wrapped tight enough around the carvings to jerk it out from between Darby's ribs. Darby starts sputtering as soon as it's free, blood spraying out from between his lips, while Jack wipes the blade of the weapon against his jeans. At least they're black: decent coverage.

"What'd you do, stop for coffee?" Darby rasps, pressing his hand against his sternum as his muscles knit themselves back together.

"Has anyone told you recently that you're a fucking idiot?" Jack asks.

Darby pushes up on his elbows, which puts that stupid coat right in even more of the blood. Christ. The whole thing's a lost cause at this point. Jack hopes he's got more than one of those at home. "Fuck off."

"Seriously, you just descended from the rafters on top of them. What did you think they were gonna do?" Jack rolls his eyes, and hopes that Darby can see it in the dim light streaming in from the hallway beyond the open door. "Dumbass. They know they can just get their violent kicks out on you without repercussions."

Darby stands up and winces; the action pulls on his greasepaint, twisting it a bit. "Consecrated knife, too. Fuckers are getting smarter."

"Unlike you," Jack points out, and is ignored. "You know, at some point, I'm not gonna be here when someone decides to shatter every bone in your body. Then what are you going to do? Word's gonna get out further."

"Worried about me?" Darby arches both eyebrows at him. At least he's shrugging off his blood-soaked coat. Hopefully he's gonna dump it in the nearest trash can. "That's sweet."

"If I could kill you permanently, I would have done it by now."

Darby grins at him and reaches out to swipe his palm across Jack's face, the lower half of it; he's got blood all over his fingers, and it streaks across Jack's beard. "You like me too much."

"That is not even remotely true."

"You came to find me, didn't you?"

Jack sighs. "That's just because I'm also an idiot. Also, your blood stinks when it leaves your body. Did you know that? Absolutely terrible."

Darby leans in and covers Jack's mouth with his own. He tastes like copper and slow-receding decay. It should be disgusting, but Jack lingers. He probably should have seen this coming. He's tracked down Darby's corpse too many times to avoid this.

When Darby pulls back, he's got some of the blood transferred over to his lips. He grins again, wider. "Anything else you wanna say? Insults? Threats? Lie about how much you can't stand me?"

"Your breath smells like you just died," Jack tells him. "Go brush your teeth."

"Ah." Darby's eyebrows wiggle. "And then what?"

"We're gonna have to put that—," Jack points at the coat, more red than pink now, "—in the fucking hotel bathtub to see how much of this shit we can wash out."

"Romantic."

Jack shakes his head. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," Darby says, teeth flashing bright. "But keep telling yourself that, if it helps you sleep at night."

[bangytell]

The Perfect Date | pjm M

Summary: Your sister's getting married, hiring someone from the advertising of the magazine doesn't seem like a bad idea even with all the benefits you seem to find along.

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Smut, fluff

Rated: mature, +18

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Pet names, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: Just wanted to get this out of my drafts, enjoy.

The steam of vape on the shower made you feel at ease just for a little while the razor helped you shave your legs.

The phone rang four times and you answered when that sweet, masculine voice greeted you.

"Hello, it's this [name] Brown?"

"This is me" left the razor aside because you knew it required more concentration that you couldn't get at the moment

"Just to get everything straight, you are sending my ticket and I will see you on the airplane, is that correct?"

"It is" you squeaked and cleared your throat for repeating "Yes, yes it is" he giggles and then answer

"Until then Mrs. Brown" he hangs up. 

Once on the plane, you started looking around to find the man on your call, he showed up in a black suit, white shirt, and a blue tie. Very… handsome, you must admit.

"Hello there" he took a seat behind you "It's my first time in first-class" he smiled and for a second his eyes disappear

"Hi, let's get some things on the table" he nods full attention to you "We met at a bar, you're a therapist and crazy in love with me" 

"Sounds like a good story to tell"

"Your job is to make everybody believe it, even me" he came closer to your seat 

"On the phone, you said that your family are the ones that want you married" you nod, full attention on his plump lips and glowing eyes

"I am the oldest, my sister is the one getting married before me and I am pretty nervous because I had to call for you, my family it's not even a crazy one, it drives me crazy but-..." he placed a finger over your lips

"You also mentioned an ex, am I right?"

"That is like the other… situation"

"Can you talk about it?" you nod, even when it brought you deep bad memories

"His name's Namjoon, we dated for four years later when I graduate, and when I thought he was gonna propose to me, he… dumped me, now he's the best man, best friend of my sister's fiance" the plane started it's way to the sky and he looked at you in a way you couldn't exactly define. 

No words came later, so you slept the whole flight given the circumstances.

Once in London, he helped you with your bags and told you of the droll on your cheeks. You flustered.

"I have more siblings, my parents are divorced so please don't bring that up, and-" you stopped because you had to go to the bathroom and change for a cocktail dress.

The public airport bathroom seemed a good option, you chose a blue dress, and once out you remember he had a blue tie.

"Is it cheesy? I think it is, they will think it is"

"We can stop somewhere and get you ready" he suggested

So you did, a bar became your closet and he was outside waiting.

"Do you think this black one is better?" it was option two, the other one was a red dress

He looked at you, head to toe, and denied with his head.

"I wear the red one, also the bartender told me that" you flustered and got inside the bathroom to change and go for the red one.

The ride to the salon where family, friends, among some other people you assumed were friends with your sister, was quick.

On the back, you left your bags and coats, and you gave him his payment.

"Six grand, just like we agreed"

"Okay" he took the envelope and leave it on his jacket

"No, no, wait you have to count it" he stopped his actions

"I believe in you"

"I just want to remind myself that I paid to someone just to get it as a date on my sister's wedding"

"Look, don't be so hard on yourself, the money is in my pocket and all you have to worry is to look pretty, which is not much difficult, I will be by your side" you flustered for a second and then got together just to confront all the people you haven't seen in many years.

You greet everyone, your friends, your family and he seems to be kind to new people.

Your best friend walks up to you, you haven't seen her in years.

"Lizzy, I've missed you" she hugs you tight

"You are the one that lives in New York" both of you laugh 

"Lizzy I want you to meet my date, Jimin" he smiles and shakes her hand

"Park Jimin, nice to meet you"

"Oh, a foreign, well nice to meet you I'm Lizzy, or as everyone else know me Elizabeth" her British accent was really pretty, one of the favorite people for you to listen talk to

Your mother came up to you, gave a kiss to your friend, then you, and gave his hand to the man you came with.

"I'm [name]’s mother" he kisses her on the back of her hand and she giggled 

He placed a hand over your waist, made you come closer, and then talked again

"I'm [name]’s date" the smile on your mother's face was priceless

He didn't move his hand out of your waist, you went to the bar and asked for a margarita.

More people came and said hi until you saw him. He wore a gray suit, he had no glasses on and looked as perfect as you remember.

A few margaritas later you needed to go to the bathroom.

He was on your way out.

"Hey, [name], how have you been?"

Your cousin showed up.

"Hey, Namjoon since you already stole four years for her, you don't mind if I take her away, would you?"

"Actua-"

"You're so nice, keep going"

You were at the bar again, he wasn't around so you just ordered another margarita.

Surprisingly your father came by and hugged you with a kiss on the cheek and likewise did his wife. Your brother came and hugged you.

"I've missed you" he was taller than you but still young

"Me too Tom" he smiled and left with a sorry

You felt a hand at your waist and jumped scared.

"Oh, there you are" 

"Your mother took me to meet your aunts" he giggled when he saw the look on your face

"Oh my Lord, did she?" he nods and you give a sip to your margarita.

"I'm getting some fresh air, wanna join me?" the glass was empty and honestly you think that you couldn't get through without the alcohol.

"I'ma get another glass" he left the warmth of his hand and went outside.

Chatting with your best friend and cousin while the margaritas kept coming you forgot about your date. 

In the meantime, your ex and he were having a conversation.

"Friend of the bride or the groom?" he asked looking at him a few inches apart

"I came with the bride's sister" his eyes open up in surprise

"[Name]?" Jimin nodded at his question like he didn't say that you came along with him, but Jimin's expression was neutral 

"And are you with the bride or the groom?"

"How is she doing?" he said, not answering his question

"She has been fine, very successful" he nodded and seem… taciturn 

"I think I made a mistake…" he said in a very low voice until he saw you coming to meet Jimin.

The drunk you were brave enough to kiss the man, so it happened.

His plump lips tasted delicious as he held you by the waist, your ex left a few moments later.

"Is he gone?" you turned around to find the spot empty "What did he say to you?"

"Are you okay?" you nodded and he continued talking "He said that he made a mistake, then you came along"

Your mother had a microphone, and you knew that didn't mean something good would come along but it seems that your family didn't care.

"Thank you all so much for assisting for the wedding of my youngest daughter Ava, it was quite a surprise when we find out that she was the one getting married, we all thought that [name] would marry Namjoon first"

"Mom!" you squeaked in shame 

"Yes, right I was talking about Ava, congrats on the wedding my dear"

Your dad came along and said some words for Ava, as your date held you by the waist.

"I think I'm drunk" you confessed

"Everyone can tell" he chuckled

"Don't be like that, I haven't gotten drunk in a long time"

"And seven mojitos seemed like a good idea"

"I'm not even that drunk"

"You kissed me"

"So? you have plump lips they're pretty"

"Pretty?" he chuckled again "No one ever said that to me"

"How come? They are" you traced them with your finger and he smiled looking at your eyes and finding a glow in them

"You're quite a thing aren't you?" 

"I guess so" he chuckled

Both of you were at your dad's house, they gave you a room. 

"I'm taking a shower" he claimed as he walked away 

They left you with one bed only and you barely knew the man, what were you supposed to do?

It was late so you needed the rest, it didn't matter at the moment.

Finally getting a bed and a good sleep you took it.

When the morning came, you felt the sickness of yesterday drinks, everything kicking in, and you rushed into the bathroom to puke as much as possible, after brushing your teeth you noticed that Jimin had slept on the floor, wearing only the bottom part of the pajama, and the blood run through your cheeks to paint them red. His torso was toned and it literally glowed, suddenly the knocks on the door scared you and made you jump on your place, Jimin started to wake up.

“Get on the bed” you whispered and he got up and layed down with you while you heard on the door your mother asking if you were dressed with a little giggle 

“Come in mom, stop embarrassing me” she giggled again and opened the door to the look of you both on bed, with Jimin without t-shirt

“Well, i see you had fun” Jimin chuckled

“Were you going to say something?” you remembered her, annoy by now

“Ah, yes, we are having breakfast at your sister's house, so get dressed we’re leaving in 20 minutes” you nod and agitate with your hand that she could leave.

After she went out, the warmth of Jimin’s body startled you, it was like you weren’t living at the moment until he asked you something.

“Sorry, what?” he chuckled

“Are we going to change?” you got up, quickly and grabbed some clothes from your bag “You can change here, i’ll be in the bathroom” he nods and you got lost inside after closing the door behind you.

The baby blue dress with a cute lace on the back seemed good for breakfast, and after your subtle but good makeup was done you heard a knock on the door, it was Jimin.

“I’m ready, just waiting for you sweetheart” you opened the door, he got startled but maintained the beautiful smile on him “I see you’re all dolled up” you chuckled 

“Does this dress say “Look at me ex, I'm better off without you”?” he nods and you make your way out.

At your sister’s house, well hers and her fiance, almost everyone was there, your sister's bridesmaids, and the best man of the groom, the parents of the groom, and everyone was already sitting by the time you got there. 

Pancakes, fruit, bacon, syrup, sausage, eggs, oatmeal, coffee and just to name a few, from what your sister told you, her fiance parents had like tons of money so it felt like a private restaurant just at the comfort of your house.

Jimin and you served all you wanted, from that you learned that he also liked his coffee sweet if not he would not have it, you two went to take a seat, in the large table, your ex decides to sit in front of you, Jimin steals your focus, he begins to talk about a business the he participates and his voice sound like heaven, he mentions other job, you assume the one his right now, and he mentions that he met lots of people, with the same intentions, no harm done, that even once they tried to punch him, you chuckled with look of your ex all over you.

Jimin comes close to your ear to whisper something to you, his cologne smells fantastic.

“I think we made your ex pretty jealous” with a soft chuckled you nod

Your mother stands up, with a glass in her hand, you think that 11 am is the time to be drinking wine, but who are you to judge? 

“Once again I want to thank everyone for coming, this is very special for me and my beautiful daughter Ava, for her happiness” she extends her glass and all of us says cheers to it”

“At least this time she didn’t talk about how i was supposed to be marrying” you whisper, closer to Jimin’s ear and he chuckled.

“Sissy, remember that tomorrow is the bachelorette party” everyone got up and she was holding you by the hands

“Yes Ava, i know your schedule very well, don’t worry i’ll be there” 

You hear shouts from afar, you don’t know how but Namjoon has Jimin by a chokehold, and everyone is trying for him to let go. You step in, no screams or forcing anything, just making him let go, when Namjoon sees that you help Jimin instead of him, he steps back. Jimin is fighting to get air back to him.

“I don’t know what happened, and I don’t want you to tell, just don’t touch him again,  you understand?” he was tall, way more tall than you and still you stood right in front of him, and talked all serious. He looked scared, and walked away and your sister's fiance stepped in. Namjoon nods, and walks out.

“Jimin, are you good?” he nods, with more color on his face now.

“He could have looked worse” you chuckle, good thing he didn’t hurt him.

You two went to the bathroom to help Jimin get some water on his face.

“He was jealous, and told me that i shouldn’t have come here” after damping a towel and wring the excess of water you put it on his forehead

“I’m so sorry for all the trouble” you looked anxious, and Jimin noticed, hold your hands down and look at your eyes

“It’s not your fault, okay?” you nod when you hear voices from afar

“No, dude, i’m not jealous” it was Namjoon

“Yeah right, and that was why you almost punched her new date”

“I’m telling you, he looks like a goal digger, like he’s just after her money” they were talking about you two. You just kept quiet and listened.

“Don’t try to project yourself” namjoon chuckled with a grin and then his face was serious

“You know it wasn’t like that, [name] didn’t even had that much money as now”

“Yeah just that she was boring, and not good in bed, i remembered those words after you told me you fucked someone else” your looks changed, Jimin gazed upon you and saw the tears that started to fall out, he hugged you. Not going out still,  they’ll have to leave first.

“I was stupid and young, okay? Let’s head back before someone notices we are gone” Namjoon ended, you heard the footsteps as they walked away, everyone after the next hurting you more.

Boring? Was that what he always thought? Were you ever going to even find a man?

You left, with Jimin as company back to your father's house, the whole way back was full of tears, with soft strokes on your hair from Jimin. He knew you didn’t deserve him, but maybe you did need it to hear it from him. What happened before the choking could be a topic for later. Right now you wanted to be curled up in bed. and so you did.

The day after, you got a good eyeliner, even on your lower eyelid, and with a red wine dress you were sipping one drink after the other at the bachelorette.

“Hey [name] what happened yesterday with Namjoon?” you shrugged your shoulders and kept drinking 

“I wasn’t there, so I’m not like a fight referee” when you looked at the person asking of course your sister had to invite her, the girl that made your life a nightmare at high school and collage, but her friend after all

“Stop being so defensive, I see alcohol finally got you” you chuckled and ordered another drink, why would she care

“You know what, screw you Georgia, get lost” you don’t know where you got the courage to do that, but she was flabbergasted and left.

It’s been an hour since everything started, your sister was dancing and all you could do was drink by yourself.

“Are you sure you’ll be good by yourself” Jimin nods “He’s going to be there, and drunk, so please try not to, you know, be near him” He chuckled at your worries 

“I’ll be good, stop worrying and promise you’ll have fun” you nod, and he caressed your face before leaving with your brother in law into that van.

Why did he do that? and why could you still feel it on your skin, his hands were a little harsh but it also felt smooth, you couldn’t put into a right thought what you meant by that, and while being lost in thought you didn’t notice your sister coming up to you.

“[Name] what made you so lonely and sad? You miss your boyfriend?” you chuckled

“Unlike you, i know how to be by myself” her eyes water a little 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” alcohol can not get the better in you 

“I’m sorry Ava, go back to your friends and forget i ever said anything”

“You know, sissy, my dad is always worried about you, always thinking what his daughter is doing outside the country, maybe if he knew you could be alone he wouldn’t have to live with the worries on him” the bitter tone and the way she looked at you, you knew it was all with pure hatred of you, but words can’t get that much of you, so she just leaves.

In the meantime, Jimin is at the stripclub, drinking very slowly and just watching as everyone else haves fun, in their own way, while the groom is very happy with a dancer on his legs, and a few friends around him, cheering and drinking, like if that was the best achievement a man can have. He notices Namjoon up in a corner, drinking and just looking, not moving that much, so Jimin walks up to him, he’s not that scared of big guys.

“What’s on your mind?” Namjoon frowns and looks at him, he’s tall but not that tall, for him at least.

“None of your business” he sounds harsh

“I’m just making conversation”Jimin chuckles, it’s like life is just fun for him, or so Nam thinks

“You’re not mad about what i did” Jimin shrugs 

“I can’t be more mad to you than what you’re to yourself” Nam huff and kept drinking

“I don’t understand why would [name] date you” 

“And why not?” Jimin chuckles “You gotta stop being so prejudiced, you don’t know me, and me being a few inches smaller than you doesn’t make you any better” Jimin left, he didn’t have anything else to said, he started to get bored, until he gets a phone call from you, he answers

“Jimin, how’s everything going?” he notices Nam approaching 

“We’re having fun sweetheart, what about you?” the music was a bit too loud, but with a loud voice he believed you could hear him

“I’m so bored, and all the girlies are leaving for like an after party, but i am soo tired” you sound different, like making every word last longer in your tongue and a little dumb

“Would you like me to go with you?” he feels enthusiast for seeing you more in that amazing red dress, not that he likes you, but he’s a man after all, it wouldn’t hurt to see

“Well, yes, you could if you want” Jimin chuckles

“I’ll be there gorgeous” you hang up, Nam walks away and Jimin calls a taxi on his way out, he remembers the address of the place you were, by the time he’s there you are already outside with a cigarette in between your fingers, anxiety always got the best of you.

You see him, and he comes to take you by the waist. You're drunk enough to tell him that he doesn’t have to do it, so you let the warmth of him hug your body.

Once in the cab, you say the address and he looks at you with a soft smile

“Stop looking at me like that” he chuckles

“What do you mean?” you’re looking at the window, seeing the lights go through

“Like you like me” 

“I like you, i think you’re great” you gaze him

“No, not that type of like, I mean like having real feelings for me” Jimin looks at you, not a word and still looking you in the same way 

“Is that a problem?” your heart starts pounding hard in your chest 

“I mean, i think so, you’re working” he shrugs

“As long as it’s okay with my boss” you chuckle

You got home, and ran to the bathroom to throw every drink to the toilet, why did your stomach had to do you dirty, after brushing your teeth, washing your face and changing clothes, you lied down on bed

“Jimin?” you whisper

“Yes?” 

“Where are you from?” he smiles

“South Korea and I assume you’re from here?” 

“I lived here my whole life but my mom and dad used to live in California, and what about your family?”

“I only have one brother, and my mom and dad live over there”

“And why did you leave?” 

“I have business, and don’t think I don’t want to see my family I just choose a very moved type of life”

“And they understand?” he hums “That must be great, my family thinks i want to be away and not see anyone”

“Do you?” you laugh and he has all the attention on you, even when you’re far apart.

Silence gets through the room, thousands of questions try to escape the bubble in your throat, with softs breathings the sleeps kicks you, the mild light of the hearth on the corner of the room, suddenly a heaviness on the other side of the bed startles you, turning around his face ends up too close. 

“No, but my dad is at New York” he looks at you, confused 

“But…”

“He’s my stepdad, you know, it’s complicated, my biological father leaves and after all these years try to… bond with me, my stepdad was worried i end up hurt by him, again”

“Everyone can worry, is hard not to” you nod 

“I also believe that i was here to look after Ava, even tho we have no blood relation”

“You don’t?” you deny with your head, usually no one knows about this, cause nobody else cares 

“We just have been together since very small, she is my sister” he nods, forgetting you cant see him 

“I understand, don’t have a step brother, but surely can understand you” you giggle

“That’s why she’s always… fighting to me, everything i did she wanted to do it better, if had a boyfriend, she had to have that guy, ‘m just tired of fighting for that place, so i left” you sigh, he scoops closer to you and cups your face in his hands 

“You earn and own every space there is” you grin, this feels weird, as if.. it was part of the money you gave him

You turn around from him, trying to fall asleep forgetting he’s there. He got paid to say that, to behave a certain way.

The next morning was the rehearsal dinner, but you felt uneasy and worried. While getting ready, you barely locked your gaze with Jimin.

First breakfast on that beautiful cabain your parents had, Jimin pulled you away from everyone, and you see his worried eyes for the first time.

“What’s going on?” you shrug as if he couldn’t tell by now

“Nothing, let’s get back” you sound selfless

“What happened to the bubbly and outgoing you?” you shrug, again, he met you like half week and he seems to know you so much

“It’s not part of your job to worry about that” he was flabbergasted 

“Wait, so, you think that i’ve been acting like this for my job you so wrong”

“Am I?” he nod and huffed when you crossed your arms in front of him

The dress you were wearing made his cock throb under his pants and pant under his breath, and also because your tits were driving him insane every time he sees you. He licked his under lip and looked at your gaze.

“You have zero idea about me” you nod and your tits wiggle a bit, forgive me ,forgive me for being such a stupid animal, he felt like a teenager boy looking at his teacher's boobs.

“Yes Jimin, i don’t know much, cause this is all a lie” he denies with his head 

“Please, watch your tone” you felt suddenly that everyone could be hearing, nobody was even around.

“Jimin, i really don't want to be hurt again, so let's just do us a favor and-...” he stopped you mid speech with his soft lips pressed against yours, the air in your lungs stopped flying through and all you could breathe was Jimin’s cologne, he deepened the kiss, pulling you by the neck, opening his mouth leaving room for his tongue to get into the kiss, it was sloppy and needy, as if he wishes to show you what he means just by that soft lips against yours. 

His hands began to wander between your hips and your ass, pulling you closer, as if close wasn’t close enough.

“Jimin…” you gasp between his lips moving “Upstairs” he nods, pulling away and letting you take the lead.

As soon as you’ve entered the room meant for both of you, he begins to kiss you again, less messier and trying to pull your stupid shoes, now the laces seemed a bad idea, the two chuckle as soon as the shoe finally is free of your toe. 

He also took his shoes off.

“We have to get back” you gasp when your ass touches the bed, he unbuckles his belt and his pants a little just to be free from his torso till his knees. He helps you pull your dress up until your waist, since you're going commando.

“Damn baby girl, are you trying to kill me?” you giggle as his body hovers over yours and begins his way to kiss you again

“It wasn’t really my intention, this dress doesn’t go with underwear” with a cocky grin you lose breath when his finger touch your clit 

Not losing any more time and he’s been really anxious to be inside of you, his cock bullies inside your folds, begins to thrust deep and hard making your mouth leave saccharine and sweet moans with each struck of his cock.

Soon enough Jimin’s moans of his orgasm hits when he’s breathing in the cup of your neck, his cum dripping past your inner thigh and soon after you finish as well.

He pulls away from you, and runs to the bathroom to get you a dry towel to help clean after you. 

“Sorry for the mess honey” you giggle and pull your dress for where it was before the horniness got the worse within you.

After returning to the rehearsal dinner and not a single person knowing about what just happened upstairs everything else went smoothly. You went downstairs for another bottle of wine, and soon after behind you, your ex followed you. 

After grabbing the bottle you jumped a little at the scare of the presence behind you.

“[name] May I have a word with you?” you nod, in a que for him to continue “I wanted you to know that” 

“You know, for many years I wondered why you broke up with me, and if it were me who was wrong but” he looked as if he was the one hurt, as if he wasn’t the one who made you miserable and not the other way around

“I’ve been a complete fool, i agree but there’s something you need to know” you’re confused by now

“Go on then” you don’t notice but there was Jimin following you both, since you’ve already took longer than expected 

“That summer where we grew apart, it was because…” he leaned closer, and you took a step back “I’m in love with your sister” you were flabbergasted by this surprise 

“What?” you ask, with a nod in your throat 

“At first it was only an adventure, something we promised it wouldn’t last…” you’re holding the bottle close to you, a sudden pain in your chest pinching you “But know I only feel a strong desire to be with her, for her not to” you slap him, stopping his words 

“Stop, you can’t be this selfish at this moment, my sister seems very fond of who you seem to think as a best friend, so you better not think for a second in hurting my family”

You step away, finding Jimin at the stairs and walk away from everyone leaving the bottle in your way.

Once outside Namjoon and Jimin were behind you.

Jimin rushed to hug you and your sister soon was near the commotion.

“You told her?” he was looking at Jimin and as confused as this has you, you soon understood what it meant. You took a step back.

“You knew?” he denies and tries to hold you “She told you and you didn't?...” 

“Sis, I didn’t want to…” everyone else at the party was next to you, seeing what the problem was and asking what was going on.

“She knows?” your cousin asked as she saw the tears streaming down your face

The betrayal of everyone around you soon came to your heart, you ran away while Jimin ran behind you, shouting your name as you ran as fast as you could.

He catch up to you, grabbing you by the arm 

“[name] please, wait” your eyes were puffy and full of tears

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you shout with the hurt full in your heart and eyes

“It wasn’t my secret to tell” you nod and hug him 

“I trusted them, i trusted everyone they must see me as a fool” he denies and embrace you in his arms 

“You didn’t deserve it, I know, and I must apologize to keep the secret but i knew that i wanted to protect you” you nod, trying to see past your pain and sorrow for this matter 

You return to the cabin, and sleep in Jimin’s arms when a knock on your door wakes you.

You stand up, and open, the night has already fallen and you could only notice Ava’s blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry sis” you try to close the door again “Please listen to me” you nod

“Go on” her eyes were puffy and the dry tears adorned her features 

“I never wanted this to blow up like this, i tried to tell you, several times”

“Trying is nothing worth for me Ava” she nods 

“I know, but you have to understand that i didn’t wanted to hurt you” you snort 

“Hurt me? or hurt the perfect lie you’ve been living? you know Ava i’ve always tolered that you did all of that before, kissing the boys i’ve told you I liked and stealing my ideas for a project, but i’m tired of that now” 

She cries and you closed your door 

“[name] please don’t talk to Jeremy about this matter” you open the door again 

“No, you’ll have to tell him, and you better tell him before you wed because he doesn’t deserve to marry a lie” she denies

“I’m not ready to…-” you raise your hand

“You better be, cause now that I know he’s going to know” she cries and you close the door for good 

“Are you sure you should do that?” Jimin asks, sitting on the bed, you nod, returning to him 

“Yes, he deserves the truth” she sighs

“You should be one to talk about honesty, didn’t you brought me here as a paid guest” you snort 

“Are you against me?” he chuckles

“I just mean that you’re not exhorted from all sins”

“Are you returning to your work after this?”  he denies and chuckles

“I don’t think I should” you sit next to him 

“You told me that you usually don’t attend weddings, why did you come?” he nods

“I take more funerals, parties but I try to exclude from weddings” you’re looking at his eyes

“Why 's that?”

“Weddings are more intimate and I tend not to intimate” you nod, agreeing “Funerals are all about accompany those who have lost someone, grieve can make you look for company” he sounds calm 

“And why did you accept my offer?” he chuckles 

“Something about your voice” you chuckle

“Desperation?” he snorts

“No, more like… hope” the two of you decided that it has been enough for the day, and tomorrow would be a long day.

The day of the wedding was finally upon you, as a maid of honor someone was hired to do your makeup and hair, since you kissed Jimin in the morning before your cousin came to steal you away, you haven’t heard or seen him.

“Why is it that you just know you seem to be in love?” your cousin asked 

You laugh to brush it off “You don’t know what you’re talking about”

While being ready and at the small church your gaze searches for the man that knows to hold your heart, by now your sister should be walking down the aisle but she’s nowhere to be seen.

Your mother reaches at where you are, whispers something and you look to where your sister fiance is standing, you know what could be happening.

Once you’re in the room where your sister should be, you find Namjoon kneeling in front of your sister.

“I didn’t thought i ever saw you do that” you greet sarcastically

“[Name]?” he stands and your sister is crying 

“Wait in the other room Namjoon” he does as told and leaves you two 

“[Name] please don’t tell him” you hug her, and she sighs at the warmth of your body

“I ain’t going to, but I believe you should come clean, before doing the marriage thing” she nods, understanding what you mean.

You call for Jeremy at the little room and leave them to it, they talk, your sister cries and you hope that the wedding finally goes along.

Jeremy gets out and sees Namjoon.

“Hey bud, stay calm would you?” his temple changes and Namjoon makes the run for it

Both are running, he’s shouting how a bad friend he is, and how could you do this to me.

Jimin hopped in the car and chased Jeremy and told him to hop in.

They drive and Jeremy asks “How can I do this now?” Jimin stops the car, and look his way

“She came clean with you, I believe that honesty is what keeps a marriage endure” he nods

“You’re a good therapist” Jimin chuckles 

“I believe I am”

They return and have an amazing wedding, the party went smoothly and for once, your life felt great and united.

Jimin and you after returning to New York have a first date, it wasn’t so perfect, but you knew you’ll get better after sharing that trip together, everything with him felt better and he loves to be your date for every occasion.