#we find out what goes on tomorrow morning. please let me not get fucked. please let my luck be good.

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

i might not have to pay full tuition this semester....and it looks like im set to pay instate this semester....

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU

Kara goes to the concert expecting nothing more than a tepid evening out. Well, as tepid as a night alone with her goddaughter could be. Esme has a knack for pulling Kara out of any funk she's in, no matter how deep her doldrums. And Esme's excitement to see this specific artist Kara's never heard of is nearly infectious.

Kara finds herself grinning in the car as Esme strictly tells her not to turn the radio on.

"They're gonna play one of her songs, and we need to go in fresh!"

So they simply chat on the ride to the arena, and upon arrival Kara is floored by the flood of people flowing from the parking lot to the venue itself.

"She's only the biggest name in pop music, Aunt Kara," Esme teases with a grin. "What did you expect?"

Kara's eyes go big with an exaggerated shrug of her eyebrows. "Not this!"

"Come on, old lady. This is why we got here early."

Esme finds fast friends among the other fans in line, but Kara steers clear of the parents clearly commisserating over the ordeal. She's not a parent, just a chaperone, and she has no intention of allowing herself to be infected by the endless negativity of long suffering caregivers bemoaning the whims of their tweens and teens.

Once inside, Esme heads straight for the merch table, clearly intent on spending her long-saved allowance money on anything she can get her hands on. The kid's wrists are already stacked with friendship bracelets, her own tote of swaps nearly empty and waiting to be stuffed with shirts and mugs and posters. Kara eyes the mounting total, then catches the moment Esme starts weighing the balance of what she has against the hoodie advertised at $60.

Kara rolls her eyes at the price, then reaches over with her card outstretched. "Add a medium hoodie to that, please."

Esme squeals with delight, and as soon as they're clear of the stall she throws her arms around Kara.

"Thank you!!!!"

"You're welcome," Kara says with a chuckle. "Just don't wear it til you get home. It's going to be hot in there."

"Okay!" Esme is already swapping her existing t-shirt for the tank top she'd gotten, emblazoned with the face of a young woman and the performer's name: LENA

"How do I look?" Esme asks with a spin, bracelets clicking.

Kara grins. "Like the world's cutest groupie." She tilts her head towards the crush of people heading into the stands. "Come on, let's go grab our seats."

"What's a groupie?"

Kara rolls her eyes, only to pause mid-turn when her phone starts vibrating in her hand. She hesitates, meeting Esme's eye.

"Just a sec, sweetie."

"What? No! Aunt Kara you promised no work."

Kara grimaces. "I know, but it might be an emergency." She scans the corridor, gaze catching on a short row of food vendors. "Here, why don't you take this and get us some nachos?"

She shoves forty dollars into Esme's hand and fishes out her bluetooth, nestling it in her ear.

"Aunt Kara..."

"I gotta find a corner somewhere," Kara continues. She points to a section of cinderblock wall a little ways down. "I'll meet you in across from the restrooms, okay? Five minutes, then I'm all yours."

Esme huffs. "Fine."

Kara answers the call, but waits until she sees Esme add herself to the food line before she starts speaking.

"This better be good!" she shouts into her phone. She can't hear anything but a jumble of sound on the other end, the din around her crowding out any words that might have been spoken. "Hold on!"

Reassured to see Esme already in conversation with a number of girl's around her, Kara goes looking for a quieter spot. She finds one in the nearest stairwell.

"What?" Kara snaps.

"Um," her assistant says over the line. "Mrs. Jasper called again? She wants--"

"Eve," Kara growls. "Do not tell me you called me, tonight of all nights, because Mrs. fucking Jasper called making some other inane request."

"I'm sorry!" Eve squeaks. "It's just--"

"Tell her it is after hours, and that she will be hearing from me personally first thing tomorrow morning."

"Oh, um. Okay. I guess--"

"Go home when it's done. And turn off your phone. You shouldn't be working this late either."

"Um. Okay. Thank you, Miss Danvers."

Kara ends the call with a roll of her eyes. But her frustration hardens into panic when she tugs on the door to return and-- it doesn't budge. She yanks again, harder, and still nothing.

"Fuck!" she shouts. She begins pounding on the door. "Hey! Can someone open this door?!"

No one comes to her rescue, her calls likely drowned out by the same noise that had driven her here in the first place. With another curse, Kara steps into action. She chooses to go down, hoping that the next door will open. It does, but the corridor she steps into is nearly empty. She hears a bit of bustle further down the hall, but out of sight.

She heads towards the sounds, trying the handle of every door she passes. None of them turn-- save one. She leans into it a little too hard as she tries the knob, and nearly tumbles into the room at the unexpected open.

Managing to right herself with a small yelp, Kara straightens-- only to freeze upon locking gazes with the young woman staring at her. A young woman Kara recognizes from the shirt her goddaughter had just put on.

Lena tilts her head with a droll grin.

"Well, you aren't my tea with honey."

[togrowoldinv]

Heat Wave

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natasha works outside in the heat and you watch on with (innocent) eyes

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (N receiving), thigh riding, so much thirsting for Nat’s muscles hehe

Note: I am once again here with working out in the heat with Natasha. This one is fun. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

It’s the first truly hot day of the year. As much as you hate the heat, the weather does have some perks.

One of them being that your wife works outside with little to no clothing on. And god does she look good.

You watch her from under the temporary shade Nat made you this morning because she knows you get hot and need to cool down.

She’s shredded her shirt from this morning and wears only a sports bra and shorts as she moves wood piles and digs in the garden.

“Do you need anything, babe?” You ask her, noticing the way the sweat drips off her muscles. Everywhere from her shoulders, her face, and even her abs are glistening.

“Maybe a drink break. And just for you to keep looking at me like that,” Natasha says. A smirk is on her face.

“Oops,” you mumble.

She walks over to your shade and you hand her a water. Nat takes it while leaving a kiss to your lips. You watch the way her body moves as she gulps down the water. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“I know you enjoy looking,” she says once she’s swallowed the liquid.

“Respectfully, yes,” you reply.

“Hm, sure. Give me another hour and we can shower?” Nat suggests.

“Yes please,” you say.

Natasha leaves you with another kiss. This one is long enough that it leaves you wanting more.

You watch as she takes an axe to a piece of wood and her muscles flex. She chuckles at you with every swing.

When she’s finally done working, she walks to you again and this time when you hand her a water she pours some of it on her head.

“Babe, what are you doing?” You ask her.

“I’m cooling down,” she says with a shrug. “You like it, don’t you? Me being all wet?”

Your eyes go wide as you don’t know how to respond. She takes your hand and leads you towards the house.

“Nat, what about cleaning up?”

“That can wait until tomorrow,” she says.

You two practically jog into the house and it doesn’t take long for her to start taking your clothes off.

She starts with your shirt and you’ll never get over how she memorizes your body with her eyes every time she sees you like this.

By the time you’re in the bathroom, you’re only left in your underwear and Natasha is completely naked.

She turns the shower on and you both get inside. Nat lets the cool water run over her body before she pulls you flush against her.

Her thigh slots itself between your legs and you gasp.

“You’re so hot,” you tell her as she moves her thigh. You let her move against you at her own pace.

“Mhm, I’ve been thinking about this all day. How good it would feel to have you on my thigh,” Natasha says. Her words always spur you on further.

“Fuck Natasha,” you gasp as she picks up the pace. Her hands on your hips move you against her.

She kisses you deeply as she brings you closer and closer to your peak.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” Nat asks.

“Yes, god, fuck Natasha,” you moan out as you come hard against her thigh.

“Good girl,” she coos as she helps your hips return to their normal pace.

“Your turn,” you say. You kneel in front of Nat and she backs up so the water is falling down her back.

You look up at the sight and it’s so beautiful the way her red hair is getting wet as you prepare to dive into her.

Natasha gets impatient and reaches for the back of your neck. She pulls you into her center and you lick through her folds. You find her soaking.

“You loved me watching you today, didn’t you?” You ask her, pulling away to tease her.

“Yeah, I did babe. Fuck me,” she says as you dive back in.

You take her clit into your mouth and she practically goes weak in the knees. She holds onto the side of the shower as you continue to eat her out.

“Fuck, detka, I’m going to come,” she says. She knows you like it when she’s this vocal.

You hum against her and that shoots her over the edge. She comes hard against your tongue and you clean her up.

When you stand again, you kiss her deeply and she holds you tight. Your breasts press together as you fall in love over again.

“I love you,” you tell her once you’ve broken for air.

“I love you too, detka,” Natasha says. “And I’m definitely going to work outside again tomorrow.”

You share a giggle and fall into a calm rhythm of conversation and actually taking care of showering duties.

Life with Natasha is absolutely perfect. Especially on days like today.

[nattinatalia]

JACK HARLOW X READER : ANNIVERSARIES & SIXTY-NINES

A/N : This is a second collaboration with my buttercup @harlowcomehome 💚 if you haven’t read our very first collab, here’s where you can find it, part 1 2 & 3 always fun and an honor working with you babes. Ilyyyyy for life 💚🤞🏼

“But, wait. Listen to me, you’re not listening to me” Jack was shouting, something he rarely ever did especially so early in the morning.

“Can’t you back out? They can’t find another opener? It’s not about the money. I don’t care, I want to make sure I’m here.” He was sitting on the couch, his elbows pressed against his thighs.

You walked out of the bedroom, keeping your eyes on him. It was clear that he was very upset. You had only made out a few words in the conversation.

“Fuck it. Okay,” he said, throwing his phone to the side as he prematurely hung up on whoever he was talking to.

“Everything okay?” You walked over to him, rubbing his back as he tried to regain his composure.

He shakes his head, “I- Chris booked me for a last-minute festival.”

“Okay?” You don’t know what’s the issue with that since Jack loves to perform every chance he gets. “And you’re upset?”

He turns to look at you, “Babe, it’s this weekend.”

“Oh,” You realize what that meant immediately. “Baby, I knew our schedules would eventually clash with important dates. It’s okay.” You reassure him, pushing back his curls.

“No, it’s not, it’s our first wedding anniversary and I’m supposed to be here with you. We’re supposed to celebrate together. I had things planned for us and now they’re ruined.”

“We can always celebrate when you get back, I promise you I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Baby, when we got married I made you a promise that I would never miss important moments involving our relationship. I promised you that I would be here.” He leans back on the couch, his hands covering his eyes.

“Jack.” You quickly straddle him, both of your legs on each side of him and you pull his hands away from his face. “Please listen to me.”

He stares at you, you can see his eyes getting watery, signs that he’s annoyed and upset. “You have nothing to worry about. I know you wouldn’t miss celebrating our anniversary on purpose. You’re an amazing husband, who always goes above and beyond. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m sure you’ll be here on time and if you’re not, I can always fly out to you baby.”

You rocked back and forth in his lap, he covered his face again with his hands. You heard sniffling coming from underneath them.

“Jack, my love, don’t cry” You lean forward to hug him, his head resting on your shoulder.

“I’m just frustrated,” he whimpered. “ I feel like a bad husband. Chris assured me I’d be back the night before but it just feels like I’m cutting it too close” he was still talking from behind his hands.

You pried his fingers away from his face, “ I love you, let’s make the most out of today. When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning” he mumbled as he wiped his face. It broke your heart to see him cry.

“Let’s make the most of today then? I don’t have anything planned” You smiled and he nodded.

The next day Jack had to leave early in the morning to catch his flight, granted he was flying in the private jet but he just wanted to get the weekend over with.

You woke up to drawers being slammed and grunts coming from Jack. “Baby?”

“Shit, sorry I woke you up.” He’s throwing clothes into his suitcase, not even bothering to fold them, which is weird to you since he’s such a control freak about that.

“I was going to wake up soon anyway.” The alarm you had set last night goes off and you quickly stop it.

“Where’s my passport?” He asks, looking around the room.

You quickly get off the bed and head to him. “It’s in your hands baby.” You reach out for it. “I need you to relax, papi.”

“I’m sorry.” He lets out a deep sigh “I just can’t believe I’m missing out on our anniversary.”

“Hey, no more of that. Let me help you pack” You start taking everything out. “Then we can have breakfast so I can drop you off at the airport.”

He shakes his head “I think it’s best you stay here, I’ll have Urban pick me up.”

You stop folding his clothes, “Wait, why?”

“I’m already having a hard time with this, you dropping me off will make me not want to go at all.”

“Bubs, I need you to be okay. I don’t want to be worried when you’re gone. I need you to be one hundred percent fine. You’ll get there and it’ll go by quickly and then you’ll come back home to me.”

“I know.” He nods, “I know I’m overreacting but I just wanted this weekend to be perfect.”

You smile at that. “And it will be.” You close up his suitcase. “Now come on, let's have breakfast and cuddle on the couch before it’s time for you to leave.”

You made Jack breakfast, rubbing his shoulders as you made sure he ate. He was always grumpy when he didn’t, and he had a long flight. You wanted to spare the others.

When he was done eating the two of you cuddled on the couch like you asked, you could tell his spirit was still sad.

“Baby, you’ll be back in time and we will have a nice dinner, and then maybe…” you giggled which peaked his attention.

“And what?” His brown furrowed, and before you could answer you heard a honk outside.

“Looks like Urb is here” You stood up to give him a hug and kiss goodbye.

“Baby” he whined followed by a chuckle. “That’s not fair.”

“Have a safe flight!! Don’t keep Urban waiting” you giggled before slapping his butt as he left out of the door.

The next two days dragged for both of you but mainly for Jack. He didn’t leave you second-guessing for a bit, and he let you know how much he missed you as often as he could.

He even sent you over your daily flower arrangement and that would always make you smile.

After his festival performance, he made sure he was ready to go so all he had to do was head to the airport and board the jet. His friends understood why he was in such a hurry, so they just followed behind him without saying a word.

“Dude come on we’ve been waiting for the pilot for thirty minutes.” Jack is tapping on his knee desperately, impatient as ever.

“Relax Jack, we’ll get there on time.” Neelam tries to get him to calm down, but she knows it’s a failed attempt.

“The dinner reservation I made is in two hours, I should’ve been back home by now. Fucking Chris needs to stop booking things without coming to me first.” Before the show started, he was informed that he had a few radio interviews he had to do, this caused him to be late to the show and he was now running late to go back home.

After waiting thirsty more minutes the pilot finally arrived and they were up in the air in no time. He was texting you back and forth, making sure you were awake and ready to go. All he had to do was take a quick shower and you’d be out the door.

Once he landed back in Louisville, his driver was already waiting for him there so he made it home in no time.

He noticed the lights were off which confused him. “Y/N?” He yelled out as soon as he walked in.

“Hi, baby.” You walk out of the kitchen, heading to him.

“Why aren’t you ready? I’ll just shower real fast and then we can head out to the restaurant.”

“Hmm about that.” You place your hands on his waist. “I canceled the reservation.”

“What?”

“Okay let me rephrase that.” You chuckle lightly. “I rescheduled for tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Papi, I knew you’d be tired. I can tell you’ve barely slept and I need you to eat something.” You get on your tippy toes and give him a few kisses on his neck.

“I had things planned, baby.”

“I know, I spoke to Neelam and I made sure that everything you had planned for tonight, you could do tomorrow. Tonight is all about you.”

“We’re supposed to be celebrating us ” he reminded you.

“We are, and we will tomorrow. Right now I need you to undress and get into the tub, I have a bath ready for you, then we’ll eat and who knows, I’ll probably spoil you with a massage and some baby-making.” You wink at him.

“Baby making, did you say baby making?” He chuckles as he starts to undress right there in the living room, dropping his bags to the side.

“Mhm,” you smile as he grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom. “Join me?”

“I can’t, I need to make sure I get the food out of the oven but I’ll sit there with you.” You pointed to the tub that was full of stress-relief eucalyptus bubbles.

“Smells good” he sniffed the air before getting into the warm water. “This feels good,” he breathed out.

“I put some bath salts in there for body aching, I know how you feel after a show.”

“Baby you’re spoiling me.”

“You deserve it” You grabbed a headband off the bathroom counter, putting it underneath his curls to make sure they were out of his face.

You pulled up a bar stool next to the tub, making sure you had a good angle. You started to massage his shoulder blades.

“Mmmm baby, that feels good” he sighed, leaning back in the tub.

You continue to rub at his shoulders and give him little kisses here and there where his freckles are at. “Damn, have you been working out babe?”

“I hit the gym over the weekend, needed to clear my mind”

“My grumpy baby.” You give him a last squeeze and stand up.

He groans “Where are you going?” He reached for you, tugging at the ends of your little lavender silk pajama dress.

“I have to check on dinner, you finish up here and meet me in the kitchen.”

He stands up. “I’m done, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Hmm.” You can’t help but stare below his waist.

“Y/N.” Jack chuckles.

“Sorry, umm yeah meet me in the kitchen.” You quickly head out of the bathroom and make your way to the kitchen to check on the food.

You take out the pan with food and place it on the counter and start setting up the table. You light up some candles and spread some rose petals around the little setup you have.

“What is all this?” You look up and see him smiling with a little tint of red on his cheeks, signs of him blushing.

“Just a little dinner for us.” You light up the last candle. “Come, sit baby so I can fix your plate.”

“Are we having wine or champagne?”

“Since when do you drink?” You chuckle, as you’re putting the food on two separate plates.

“Tonight’s a special night, so why not?” He shrugs, unscrewing the bottle and pouring it into some champagne flutes.

You two are finally seated and eating, you cooked a steak alongside mashed potatoes and some green beans. For dessert, you had made a tres leches cake that you were now sharing.

“Mhmm, this is by far my favorite cake that you’ve baked.” He moans after taking a bite of the cake.

“You say that to all the cakes I make.”

He nods, “Yeah because they’re that good.”

“Do you want more whipped cream?” You got up from your chair and went to the refrigerator to grab the whipped cream.

“Yes please.” As soon as you hand it to him, he quickly pulls you to his lap.

“JACK!” You giggle, placing your palm on his chest.

He pushes back your hair and smears some whipped cream on your neck. “JACKMAN.”

He quickly goes to lick it off you, sucking on your neck as he goes. “Hmm, bab-baby” you squirm on his lap. “That’s going to be sticky.”

“You’re going to be sticky either way.” He stands up, and you’re still very much wrapped up around his body. “You took care of me enough tonight, it’s my turn now.”

He continued to suck and kiss your neck, his hand slowly migrating between your legs.

You stood up as you felt the core of your stomach grow tighter. “I need you in that bedroom, now.”

“Bossy hmm? I like it” he picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom bridal style. He plopped you down on the bed and before he could start to kiss you, you stopped him.

“Baby, you had such a long day, let me take care of you first” the two of you got undressed. You watched as his dick sprung free. You got in a position for him to eat you out while you sucked him off.

“We’re doing this tonight?” He smirked, he gripped your thighs with both hands, ready to position you over his mouth.

“Let’s see who cums first” you challenged, you massage his balls as you took him into your mouth.

He pulled you down to him, his mouth sloppily licking and sucking at your folds, he took your clit into his mouth and started to hum, a trick he knew always worked.

Your legs started to tremble, and you felt close, you decided to focus on the tip, knowing that usually drove him to orgasm too.

“Baby, baby, babe” his voice was panicked underneath you. “I’m going to- I need to” and he did.

You felt him release against your tongue, and that was enough to make you orgasm on his face, not that he was complaining.

You got off of him, bringing him a wet towel to wipe his face and other body parts down with.

“That was amazing” he rasped, as you waddled to the bathroom. He hadn’t even been inside you yet and you were tingly all over.

You went to the bathroom to wipe yourself clean, when you walked out of the bathroom you found your husband still naked and asleep in bed, loud snores coming from him.

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. “I knew he was tired,” You say to yourself.

You walk toward him and cover him with the blankets, turn off the lights, and get into bed next to him.

You can’t help but stare at him while he sleeps for a bit. The room was dark but you could still make out his face. You knew he was stressed and tired, so it was a matter of time before he fell asleep.

After a few more glances at him, you lay your head on his chest and try to sleep. His snoring never kept you awake, if anything it calmed you.

You finally fell asleep after about ten minutes of repositioning, and before you knew it you were being woken up by kisses going up and down your neck and his beard scratching you as he continued.

“Mmhmm, baby?” You rasp out.

“Sorry baby” he paused to kiss you “I fell asleep on you.” He placed another kiss on your temple “But now the real celebration starts.”

He was quick to remove the blankets and you knew he had been awake for a while before he started to kiss you, he never woke up with this much energy.

“What did you have in mind?” You yawned as you sat up to get a better view of him. You realized he had never got dressed.

“Well, it is our anniversary so what if we practice making a baby” he wiggled his eyebrow before bending down to kiss you.

“I’d like that” you smiled “happy anniversary baby.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

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[memberment]

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE

So the Trinitarians brain worm is back and Morning Glory is now longer and biting the dust as far as my focus goes.

But like, I genuinely want to talk to anyone who's invested in what's to come as far as part two goes. SO PLEASE. I IMPLORE THE FOUR OF YOU WHO PERPETUALLY TAKE NOTICE OF MY SCREAMS INTO THE VOID.

We're all aware that Trin is a time loop fic. That is confirmed.

BUT THE PROBLEM IS HOW I'M GOING ABOUT DOING THAT. AND I NEED INPUT FROM PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT ME AS FAR AS PLEASES AND SPARKLES GO, YES?

Because like sure I'm writing it and like fuck everything else, let me tell my story. But it's the how of it all like if I'm gonna throw another 200 give or take hours into this I would at least like one person to be having a wonderful time drinking and driving (I have since remembered this is not a common phrase, I do not mean this in a literal sense, it's an expression) with me right?

Part two is going to be 50 chapters, give or take. (Part one is about 37 for reference.)

So the plan for part 2 rn is (ROGUHLY):

(1-10) is the second timeline. There are a lot of importants and I cannot just glaze over it all more than that. But we're also working in a bit of a shorter time period than the original events of the story and introductions do not need to happen again, right?

(11-40)ish would be me running through the next timelines in a set up structure -> what changes -> the results of said changes and then inevitably what sends our looper backwards. It wouldn't be running through all the timelines but the more notable ones in kind of a four chapter structure, I am not fully sold on four, but rough estimate yk.

And then 41-50 would be the finale of part two. It's literally the last timeline in its glory and then the epilogue which kicks off part three.

COULD AT LEAST ONE OF Y'ALL SIT THROUGH THAT OR DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY NOTES AT ALL BECAUSE LIKE

I personally kinda like it but if not a soul is reading this I am throwing myself on the curb with the rest of the garbage LMFAOOO.

I NEED THOUGHTS. OPINIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS. ANYTHING.

Anyways, I'm going to work. I have off tomorrow and I broke the ff investment seal for today so insanity and updates will be here tonight and homework will be tomorrow.

HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GOOD DAY <3

(9:30) I am literally falling asleep as I lazily write this angel based on Danse Macabre. Expect all of maybe one more update tonight if the tacos I am abt to receive don't wake me up LMFAO.

Also, I am almost saddened by not having something to post tm. Anyone want an early chapter of something that isn't Genesis/Desolation bc they're both on Monday?????? (I am feeling like a menace rn)

(10:19) tacos and the absolute yap session I just had did wake me up a bit. MAAAYBE might write some more. Idk I slept like three hours last night and went to work I'm kinda dead. But we're at 98.2k!!!!!!🥳

(11:06) okay we made it to 99.6k everything besides the flashback for 31 is done. I'm about to relax and watch something and figure out mechanics of some of this because god this series is A BEAST. Like, I still have six planned chapters left.

Pure insanity. I love it here. I hate it here.

Holy shit wait I just came to the realization that I started this fic exactly one month ago. I have belted out 99.6k for THIS FIC ALONE. (Moreso if we're including future shit that hasn't happened yet)

IN ONE MONTH.

THAT IS FUCKING CRAZY WHAT HTE FUCK LMFAOOOO

I may or may not be cooking we’ll find out in 6-26 business hours

(5:28) So I just had a very interesting past few business hours. I read a fic I've been waiting ever so patiently to finish. That's cool, right. I go for a walk at 4 in the morning because I'm insane. Fantastic. I get home at five and I'm like ohhhh well what do I do now it's not sleep time yet. Oh write I'm supposed to be drawing.

Nope I reread the epilogue of morning glory and realized Tweek's first address is for my morning glory and Craig's last sign off is your morning glory and now I'm ready to throw myself on the curb with the garbage as I sob. Someone call a trusted adult for me thanks.

[irisposts]

Rosyln pt.3

part one & part two

pt 3!!!!

i want to do a fully story on this pairing but i think this is a good place to stop. unless you guys want more!!! :)) so pls reblog and comment

edited: yes/no

It’s been a week since the campfire. You and Ellie haven’t talked about that night since—or talked much at all. The morning after, Ellie’s arm was still wrapped around you. Her face nuzzled into your hair. You wanted to stay like that. Be with her. But a sudden thought had made you check the time on your watch. You were running late on a patrol with your best friend Marci, and you weren’t looking forward to dishwashing duties as punishment. So you snuck out of bed, and since that moment. It’s been awkward to say the least…

“Seems like she’s getting really close with Dina.” Marci takes a bite out of her apple. Her eyes locked on Ellie helping Dina out of a pile of snow. She squints her eyes in distaste.

Finn rolls his eyes, giving Marci a shove with his shoulder. “Don’t listen to her.” Finn was three years younger than marci, yet despite being 16, he acts like the older sibling of the two. The only exception being Jesse, he looked up to him as a big brother.

“Ow.” Marci rubs at her side, cursing at her brother beneath her breathe. “Dick.”

You turn your head to catch a glimpse. You swallow down the tight lump in your throat as Dina pulls Ellie down into the snow with her. They both roll over in laughter. You return your attention back to Finn and Marci. Suddenly, feeling a weird tug at your heart.

“Hey.” Marci leans over the table, a hint of mischief in her tone. “Wanna make her jealous by being my date tomorrow?” She grins at you.

You scrunch your face, “A date for what?”

Finn snatches Marci’s apple, taking a quick bite. “Party at the barn.”

Marci scoffs at her brother. “Dude?”

“I don’t know…” You tap your fingers along the dry wooden table. “Partys aren’t really my thing—”

Marci groans out loud. “—Y/N! Come on! We deserve a night to ourselves. Please?” She tugs at your hand, holding it tight with pleading eyes. “Please y/n, please, please, please, please, please—”

Finn looks over to you with disgust. “—Please make her stop…”

You sigh. “Okay.”

Marci screams and practically goes over the table to kiss over your face. “You’re the fucking best!”

You laugh and find yourself looking back to Ellie. She’s standing now, snow all over her clothes. She’s staring right at you, her expression unreadable. It isn’t until Dina pulls at her hand that your eye contact breaks.

You think you might be sick.

“Come on take the shot, I know you want to.” Marci sways to the music. A shot of moonshine in her hand hovers around your face.

Politely you move it down. “I’m okay.”

Marci scrunches her face with distaste. “Fuck, where’s Jesse.”

You look over your shoulder to the bar. Jesse’s off to the corner of it, having a drink with Finn. Your eyes linger over and you see Ellie leant against the bar, drinking. She notices you as well, she tilts her head to your direction. You offer a small smile back.

“Okay.” Mari pulls your attention back to her. She downs the shot, placing the glass on a table to the side. “Do I look okay?”

“You look… hot.”

Marci smiles, “Really?” She attempts to take a step forward.

“Okay!” You grab her at the waist. “Let me help you walk over...” You guide her to the other side of the room, waving to a few familiar faces in the crowd.

“Hey guys,” You motion for Finn to grab his sister.

He shakes his head ‘no.’ To make it even clearer to you, he slices at his throat.

You turn to Jesse, pushing Marci into Finn’s arms. “You clean up nice cowboy.”

Jesse chuckles. “Why thank you.” He pretends to tip his hat, making you smile. You loved that country accent of his. He looks off to the side of you.

“Hey.”

You heart stops at the sound of that voice.

You turn, “Ellie, hey…”

She scratches the back of her neck. You note the lack of eye contact and nervousness in her voice. “Can we talk?” She holds out her hand.

“Y-Yeah.” You take it, letting that familiar warmth touch your skin. You look back to your friends, Marci sloppy grinds the air and Finn holds two fingers like a ‘V’ to his lips and sticks out his tounge. Jesse side eyes the both of them. You laugh to yourself and let Ellie whisk you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t think of you as much of a dancer.” You wrap your arms around Ellie’s neck.

Ellie chuckles, “Mm.” She places her hands at the small of your waist and back. “I don’t like to put all my cards out on the table.”

You giggle. “Oh really?” You sway for a moment. “…I missed you.”

Ellie holds you tighter. “Me too.”

“It’s been so tense and awkard…” You look to Ellie. “I wanna go back to before.”

Ellie clears her throat, casting her eyes down. “Like as friends…?”

Your furrow your brows. “No…No of course not.” You think for a moment. “Not as friends…” You lean forward a bit. “I’ve never wanted to be your friend.”

Ellie blinks at this. “I don’t wanna be friends either .”

The music around you starts to pick up. You smile the biggest you’ve ever done in a while.

Ellie chuckles to herself. “All this time I thought—I thought maybe I came on too strong and that you had changed your mind about me…”

“You thought wrong.” You come closer, playfully raising a brow. “I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Shut up, I’m an overthinker.”

You two laugh again, but take a moment to really look at one another. You note the hundreds of freckles on either cheeks, the different hues of green and blue in her eyes, the scar on her eyebrow.

Ellie brings that familiar hand up to your cheek. “You look beautiful.” She shyly looks around. “I think everyone’s looking at you…”

You shrug, focusing your attention solely on Ellie. “Or maybe they’re looking at you…?”

“No…” Ellie looks to the crowd. “I’m just a girl…not a threat.”

“Oh, Ellie.” You comb a strand of hair behind her ear. “They should be terrified of you.”

It’s almost as if somethings clicked within Ellie. You find that your both leaning forward. Then the next, letting your lips touch. You note how soft her lips are and the faint taste of liquor. The kiss is so tender and sweet. It’s the physical affirmation of built up passion for one another. When you pull away, you can’t help but yearn for more.

You smile up at her. “Well?”

Ellie can’t help but smile.

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Roy has to fly out somewhere for a recruitment event. When Jamie takes him to the airport they say goodbye, both of them holding back tears. They are absolutely miserable without each other, especially when something happens that delays the event so Roy has to stay for a bit longer. Roy is an even more glowering and grouchy version of himself and even though he secures several new prospects for Richmond, he just can't bring himself to celebrate. He goes to his hotel room just wanting to call Jamie and go to bed, so imagine his surprise when he opens the door to find Jamie Tartt waiting for him wearing nothing but a pleased little smirk and love shining in his eyes?

🚨WOOP WHOOP THATS THE SOUND OF THE HORNY POLICE 🚨

(It’s okay anon we can be bunk mates in jail)

Roy fucking loved zoom calls. He could mute people, he could not talk, he could have Jamie in the room and no one would know.

Fucking in person recruiting. Fucking Josh who got the date wrong so he’s flying in tomorrow. What kind of name is Josh anyway.

He knows he was more of a grouch then usual, but in his defense he had to cancel his 9am flight back to Jamie.

London.

Home.

Jamie.

Whatever the fuck. It doesn’t matter now because Josh made him stick around for another three days.

Josh had better have a foot touched by god and all the fucking wisemen.

Roy slams his room key into the sensor. It blinks red.

Fucking seriously. He slams his way back into the elevator, fuck it might as well call Jamie.

It rings for a good few seconds before he picks up.

“Roy! How’d the extra first day go?”

Roy leans against the wall watching the number tick down. “Hell. I want to strangle Josh but I can’t because he won’t even be here until tomorrow.”

Roy hears their bed squeak, Jamie rolling around. “That fuckin sucks. I miss you.”

There’s a hint of something in Jamie’s voice. He can’t quite tell what. “Did you at least do anything fun today baby?”

Jamie laughs, Roy can picture him perfectly in their bed sheets tossed around, bare skin for miles. He wishes he wasn’t standing in the lobby of a hotel getting a new key.

“Nothing crazy. Bought some new sweats. Planned out a hike to take Phoebe on.”

“I love you.”

He hears Jamie sigh, “I love you too, miss you like crazy. I hate to cut this short but I think Marigold is caught on something I’ve gotta go love you!”

Roy opens his mouth return the sentiment but just hears the beep of the tone.

Christ this key better work.

He slams it into place again, green.

He opens the door and sets the bag down, weird he doesn’t remember leaving a lamp on. Probably house keeping.

He walks into the room.

Jamie.

Holy shit Jamie.

Jamie laughs, Roy must’ve said that last part out loud.

“Baby why are you here??”

Jamie gets up off the bed, Roy now notices Jamie is in fact not wearing any clothing. “Thought I’d surprise you, had Beard deactivate your room key so I’d have a bit of warning.”

“You little prick. How.

“Movie magic baby. But really I’ve got a lot of unused miles and couldn’t take another three days.”Jamie runs a hand across and down Roy’s chest, lightly toying with the waistline of the jeans.

Roy lunges forward, he shoves Jamie back onto the bed, flips him over.

“You aren’t leaving this bed tonight, or in the morning. You are going to fucking limp and look like you belong to me by the end.

Jamie let’s out a moan, “please god Roy touch me.” He reaches back and grabs a handful of hair lightly pulling to try and make Roy go faster.

Roy starts biting his was from neck to ass, he’s not going to miss a spot, they’ve got time.

—

“Roy I can’t fucking stand is this how are we supposed to go sight seeing.”

“Baby you are the sights, keep complaining and I’ll spank you.”

“Ooh honey don’t threaten me with that.”

*the smack heard round the world*

[hockeyandhrsepwr]

Insufferable

Luke Hughes x reader

Basic Premise : your dating one of the Michigan Guys who went to WJ’s, but youre Canadian. After the tourney, you (& Adam) proceed to annoy your bf & the rest of the guys with the Team Canada goal song, partly because it slaps, but also because its annoying as fuck. you & Luke are childhood friends from Toronto, but you moved to Halifax after he moved to Michigan. Now you go to Mich & you’re a year older so third year, but you’ve been involved with the hockey team since your first, & youre good friends with most of the guys

Note: this is based on a random thought I had around World Juniors that I was just reminded of. Please note I am drunk as a skunk as I write this so there will be mistakes & probably things that dont make sense (timeline math wise)

January 2023, Halifax

Is it bad if I’m hoping they lose? I text my besties. Like I love Luke but I want Canada to go back to back

It takes 2 seconds for my phone start buzzing

Anne (bestie from Michigan): Fuck that you traitor!!

Mel (Hometown bestie): Haha, no. Canada for the dub baby!!!!

A: I hate both of you. Just you wait y/n, I’m showing this to Luke when I see him!

Y/n: he knows how serious I take this. I still havent forgiven Jack for 2021.

M: As much as I love supporting our boys, you have got to give that up babe. Its been 2 years

A: And wasnt it his friend who scored anyway?

Y/n: We also dont talk about him

M: Yeah, until you need someone to do Taylor Swift karaoke with at the Lake house in the summer

Y/n: fuck off, games starting, I hate you

As hard as both teams played, Canada wins & the crowd goes wild! I’m over the moon, but I know Luke will be disappointed. After the game, I make my way down towards the locker rooms with the rest of the family members that are here (not like there’s many) to wait for the boys. As they slowly make their way out & head for the bus, I spot Luke. I run over & wrap my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Sorry babe, you played so well though.”

He pulls back and raises an eyebrow “are you really that sorry?… Anne texted me.”

“Bitch” He chuckles so I know he’s not that mad “ I really did want you guys to do well. It ws just awkward that its to get to the gold medal game. If you were both in the final it be better but it didn’t work out that way this year. You’ll get that bronze though, and then im going to show you how we have a good time in Hali.”

Dropping a kiss on my nose, I see him crack a smile before something slams into my back and arms go around me.

“Hey Rut, you played great out there!”

“Not good enough”

“Hey! Dont talk like that. Time to get that bronze & then well go back to AA & get that Natty.”

“HUGHES, McGroatry, get your asses on the BUS!!! Duker I see you heading towards them. NO”

I giggle as their coach yells at Duke, but grab him for a quick hug before he can get in trouble.

“God you really are the team mom.”

“What?” “Thats what the guys say but I’ve never really noticed it before”

“That’s nice, I guess? But go babe, before you get in trouble. Tomorrow night though, youre all mine” I kiss him quickly and let him go.

Team mom? Have I somehow adopted a hockey team & not realized?

The Next Day

Team USA gets the bronze with a couple of beautiful goals from our Michigan boys. After the game, I catch up with the boys.

“Congrats!!! here’s the plan. Now I’ve got a game to watch, you’ve got shit to do, and I’ll pick you up at 10 after your team dinner & bonding shit. Get ready I’m showing you the real Halifax.”

“Love you Lukey. I’m so proud of you. I’ve got to get back to my seat but I’ll see you later”

The game is crazy but we take the gold!!! I text Luca since I know he’s here somewhere & we finally mange to find each other before making our way to the ice to congratulate Adam & the rest of the guys.

“By the way, youre coming with me tonight” I nudge Luca while Adams talking to someone else. “I’m showing the boys Halifax

“Y/n, my flight is early tomorrow morning.”

“Bro were all on the same flight. Grow a pair & come out. I need more people since the other frosh are underage”

“Hey, why can’t I come?” Adam has apparently been listening. ‘I’ve never been to Halifax before!”

“How have you been here for 2 weeks and not seen anything”

“Not with a local!! I want to see the secrets”

“Were going drinking and youre a child so you won’t be let in moron. Also dont you have team stuff?”

He’s dragged away before he can respond but I know we won’t see him for the rest of the night. Luca agrees to come, but he has to find his parents first.

My phone buzzes with a text from Luke Hey babe, think you’ll be much longer, some of the guys are tired & not sure they’ll last much longer

I text him back 30 more minutes. Tell them to take a power nap, but the only ones that’ll need to rally are you & Duker. The rest of them will be back with an hour & a half.

L: Okay babe, see you soon.

After fighting my way through the crowds, I manage to make it to the hotel the teams staying at. I enter the lobby & hear my name, since I texted Luke that I was near. There’s about fifteen of the USA guys waiting for me and I make my way over.

“First things first, who’s 19?” About half of the guys hands go up. “Okay, do you have your IDs?” Everyone nods & I clap my hands. “Alright, for those who dont know me, I’m y/n & this idiot is my boyfriend” I gesture to Luke & he wraps his arms around me. “I’m going to show you how we do shit here on the East Coast, especially those of you who are legal. For the children, I’ve got some cool stuff for you too but your night will come to an end sooner than the rest of us. Ready?”

A cheer goes up as everyone gets up & ready to go.

“One last thing, Duker needs a place to sleep tonight” “HEY!” “But you can sort that out among yourselves. Lets go!!”

The streets of Halifax are absolutely wild, but I manage to show the guys around a lot before we make our way back to the hotel. In the lobby, I give the Michigan kiddos a hug & tell them that ill see them tomorrow for the flight. “For the rest of you, Nice meeting you, im sure ill see you around!!”

We pick up Luca then make our way around downtown. once we make it to the designated bar I see a familiar face.

“MEL!!” “Ah, you made it!! congrsts on the bronze boys, but RED & WHITE TAKES THE WIN BABY!!”

“Sorry about that, she’s a bit drunk. Have fun boys, everyone has my number so text me if you can’t find me!”
“she’ll be in a corner with Luke!” “ Shut it Duke.”

Two hours later, the drinks have been flowing & were all having a great time. Luke & I are out on the dance floor, tearing it up, when the bar goes wild. Luke groans as the opening bars of an East Coast Classic start playing. “ I’m gonna hear this song in my nightmares for the next little bit”

“I mean that sucks for you but COME GET YOUR DUDS IN ORDER” I scream with the rest of the bar.

Sorry, I mouth to Luke

As the night comes to a close, I manage to round up the boys and make our way back to the hotel. All in all, a great few days here at home, but I’m ready to head back to Michigan and get on with the year.

End of January

We’ve been back for a couple of weeks & life is going well. We’re having a party for the team & various friends at one of the houses. Luke & I are chilling on one of the couches, im on his lap chatting to Anne as he talks to Duke, when Luca comes running up

“Y/n what’s the name of that song?” I have no idea what he’s talking about “Could you be any less specific? Give me something Luca”

“You know, du du dud dud” “How does that make sense Anne mutters beside me. “Yeah duh. Why?” “ Adams on the music next & needs a good lineup. He can’t remember the name”

I sit up, “oh, ill text him a playlist, I’ve got a couple of good ones to go along with it”

Luca runs off and Luke pulls me back into his chest “What are you up to?” I give him a kiss “nothing:)”

Ten minutes later, I can see that Adam is hooking his phone up, so I hop up on the coffee table & yell

“Attention folks, Adam, thanks for the tunes. It’s time I introduce you all to a couple of good old fashioned Canadian classics. I expect full enthusiasm okay? Take it Away Adam” The opening bars play and then “Twas the night that Patty Murphy died….”

By the time we get through 5 of the songs, the whole room is bumping. Luke & I are dancing, and he leans down & whispers “I know its coming, and I’m going to get you back for this” I smile up at him, “no idea what you’re talking about”

I dance my way over to Adam & Luca as the opening bars begin

“Hey boys, ready?” “Hell yeah”

“I know you know it, so sing it with me - COME GET YOUR DUDS IN ORDER….. HEAVE AWAY!!” At this point I’m back on the table doing some weird attempt at line dancing with Eddy. Of course the albertan knows how to do it. Were about halfway through the song when im thrown over Lukes shoulder, to cheers from the room

“Thank you, thank you!! Ill be back next week!” I wave as Im pulled from the room. Luke drops me on the swing on the porch before sitting down & leaning on me. “Youre infuriating”, “but you love it’ I grin and kiss him. We stay on the swing making out & cuddling for a while, looking at the stars & people watching. There’s no shortage of interesting incidents to see in a college town on a Saturday night. The the night starts dying down so I round up the boys that dont live here & start making our way back to my place across campus, dropping everyone off & making sure they get home safe before Luke & I get to mine.

All in all a great night.

Mid February

“What’s up everybody!!!!” I skate onto the ice to get the crowd going

“All right, its loud in here tonight!! So I’ve got some news for you. I know you were expecting to see our wolverines playing some of Team USA’s development guys. Unfortunately they had to pull out, but weve got something better for you all tonight! Before I let you in on it, Here are YOUR MICHIGAN WOLVERINES!!!”

The Music starts as most of the guys come rushing out of the tunnel doing a lap in front of the crowd before lining up in front of our net. Smiles all around as the crowd goes wild. Once they settle down, I start back up. 
“Thank you boys for that dramatic entrance!! Now, some of you may know me as that annoying girl who’s been on the mic at Yost for the past three years, which is valid. But what some of you might not know, is that I’m Canadian.” BOO. I hear from behind “Zip it Duker” The rest of you, Stop your booing!!! I’ve brought it up for a reason - For those of you that know me, you know that I came here for a boy. I know what youre thinking, what a dumb move, moving to another country for a boy, but I couldn’t help myself. You all know and love him, from the wolverines, number 43” The crowd starts making some noise, “QUINN HUGHES.”

The boys behind me start laughing & glance at Luke, but he knows im joking (or am I?…)

“Nah, Nah, in all seriousness, Q is like an older brother to me, so when I was figuring my life out four years ago he brought me here & I knew it was the place for me. But there is a boy, who followed me here cause im that awesome ‘hair flip’, and since there’s a very special holiday coming up”, I turn around and skate over to stand in front of Luke, looking into his eyes before turning my head

“Duker, will you be my Valentine” The arena burst out into laughter & cheers as Luke drops his stick & I try & race away from him. He grabs me by the waist before I make it more than a few metres, swinging me around before setting me back down on the ice.

“Youre going to pay for that” he whispers before dropping a kiss on my lips as a collective EW goes up from the crowd.

“Yeah yeah, get back in line lukey.” I blow him a kiss as he skates back.

“Now that thats out of the way” The crowd laughs “Duke im free at 7, you know where to find me”

“In all seriousness, you may be noticing that were missing quite a few players. Now there’s nothing wrong with them, but first let me tell you what’s about to go down. We have a couple of special guests coming to join us for this game, so lets get into it. We’re hosting the first, and probably last, USA vs Canada game, Michigan style!!”

I can tell that people are confused, so why dont we just show you?” Cheers & Boos start up, but thats alright, I. Think they’ll be pretty happy once they see what’s planned.

“First up, they may look a little different tonight, but please welcome, your Canadian wolverines!!
Starting us off tonight, you all know & love them, an inseparable duo, the bros LUCA & ADAM!!” They come out wearing Adams jerseys, pumping up the crowd & do a lap before standing behind me, just opposite their teammates.

“Next up, from the single worst province, number 73, ETHAN EDWARDS!!” The crowd roars as Eddy pretends to flip me off.

“And the last of our Ontario boys, Eric & TJ!!”

“All right, I dont know about you guys, but I’m thinking our Canadian boys need a little colour with a u” The boys snicker & Eddy fist bumps me “So please welcome some very special gents with a delivery for us. From last years championship winning team” The crowd gets so much louder “Mr ‘no one can spell your province’ Jimmy Lambert, Mr British Columbia Kent Johnson, and the big dog Owen power!!” Jimmy, KJ & OP skate out, the crowd cheering as they hold a bunch of Team Canada jerseys.

I’m glad they’re willing to play along. When Kent messaged me earlier in the year & mentioned that him & Owen were going to try & stop by for a game during the all star break, I knew it could turn into something super fun. Once I got my boss & the two guys on board, & the NTDP had pulled out a few weeks ago due to something, I started my mission. The Michigan boys had no idea what was going on until getting ready tonight, so I think it’ll be an awesome time for everyone. It also gives me an opportunity to fuck with Luke a bit which I’ll never pass up. He thinks he know what I’m up to, but I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.

“Now Owen & Kent have generously donated some of their old jerseys for the players to wear tonight, so we can really represent. Will they all have the same names on the back? Yes, but they’re big kids, they’ll figure it out.” Sweeping my hands out, the boys start grabbing jerseys.

“We’ll have a quick break so that the boys can change”

“I mean they can start stripping out here, we won’t complain” I hear from the stands as laughter erupts & I point towards the children of Yost section.

“I like you, but unfortunately the on ice strip tease portion of this evening has been cancelled. It will take place in the locker room, tickets are ten dollars” I wink at the camera before turning back towards Luke. “But lets continue. we can’t play a full game with only a few on our team, so please welcome some more special guests. One of your former wolverines, Mr has lived in Vancouver so long he’s basically Canadian, Quinn Hughes!! (Bum Bum bum bummmm noise)” Lukes eyes go wide as the arena explodes with noise and Quinn comes out. I open my arms and grab him for a hug before having him stand next to me.

“Alright Quinny, how are you feeling being back?’
“honestly y/n im wondering what you have planned because if I know you, there’s something else that going to surprise me.”

“Ladies & gents, he’s known me since I was 3 so I’d say he’s got a pretty good read on me. Now number 43” “Hey!” Luke pipes up and I wave my hand in his direction to shush him, “I’m going to have you stand over there until everyones here & we can split you up.

“You’re wondering who’s next, I’m wondering why he’s here at all” Laughter & cheers from the crowd and the boys on the ice bang their sticks “we have Mr ‘ive never met anyone with greater middle child syndrome, he didn’t even go to college but refused to be left out’ from New Jersey Jack Hughes!” Jack skates out & leans towards the mic

“I would like it on the record that you asked me….” I hip check him away “That’s false. Anyway” He skates over to Luke & grabs him in one of those weird bro hugs then heads over to Quinn.

“Alright, last one then we can get going with some hockey!” The crowd roars

“Since they seem to come as a pair these days, your other favourite boy from Columbus, Nick Blakenberg!”

The crowds going wild, the boys are having a good time seeing each other & I think were about ready to get going.

“So here’s everyone. Now rapid fire, its time to split them up. We’ve got our Canadian boys. Jack, get your butt over there” He starts to protest but I hold up my hand “you know why, remember?” Raising an eyebrow at him, I see the recognition dawn. his face falls into a pout as he heads over to stand next to Owen.

“Q, I may have said youre basically Canadian but since I do love your brother, you can head over there” The smile on Lukes face as Quinn skates over & stands next to him is just adorable. God hes so cute. A mixture of Aws & Ews makes me realize that I may have said that out loud. My cheeks feel like theyre on fire as he skates over, wraps his arms around my waist & rests his chin on my head after pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Youre cute too” he whispers

“Anyway, next up, since we appear to be missing a goalie, its only fair that we get Ports! So get on over here!” Boos ring out “hey, he’s not American. That’s the literal criteria. Now here’s where it get tricky. The rest of these fine gentlemen are proud Americans, but the teams are pretty uneven. To keep things fair, we have a couple of guys who played in the BC leagues, so they’re hopping over the border for this one. So please temporarily welcome to team Canada, Holtzy, Phil, Grano Kienan & TShea!!!. Were about even now.“

The players are starting t organize themselves “Now we’ll take a five minute break so the guys can switch jerseys. Then its go time!!!” Noise inside the arena grows as I wrap my arms around Luke & he drags me off the ice.

“I love you so much, but youre absolutely insane.”

“Aw thanks babe, love you too. Now get your ass in the change room & get back out there”

I grab my Canada Hoodie that I hid next to the door earlier this morning and pull it on before hopping back on the ice. “How are we feeling? Excited?!” I pump up the crowd as I skate around. “So this is how tonights gonna go. We wont be playing a full game, since were ’not allowed to tire out the NHL guys on their break’ boo We also dont want any injuries since this is just for fun. So we won’t be too rough tonight, but instead of that final period, we’ve got a fun little game to play with the players. But first, while the rest of the boys are away I have one more visitor” I spin & open my arms up, gesturing towards the tunnel, “everyone’s favourite fashionable frenchman, Thommy B!” Bordy comes skating out and yells, “dont ever call me that again” “What, French?” Laughing,I shout back as he waves to the crowd. “So Bordy, welcome. You know a little bit about what’s going on tonight. I know youre used to wearing the red white & blue, but now its time to represent the superior country.” He laughs and sticks out his tongue. “Here come the rest of our players!!” The music gets going again as the boys come out. They cheer as they see Bordy before splitting up into their teams.

“ALL RIGHT ARE WE READY?” The noise is deafening as the boys head to their benches, but jack skates towards me. “Just so you know, Z, Turcs & a bunch of the other guys are here so it might get a bit rowdy”

“Cleary you’ve never been to a game here haha. There’s no one rowdier than the children, but I’ll keep that in mind. Where even are they?”

“They’re in the away dressing room, Quinn helped me get them in there but they’re going to come into the tunnel to watch”

“Fucking Zebras, messing up my plans. I hope they know that they’re not getting away with being here & not participating. Ive got to do some shuffling” “Y/n they dont have any gear” “Well they should have though of that before gatecrashing” I pat him on the shoulder, “dont worry jacky, I’ll sort it out, now get over there”.

“NOW, Can I please get my two representatives to centre for the puck drop, then I promise we’ll be on our way”

Luke & Adam skate up to me and get into position. We get the picture & then,

“Hey y/n, I think were missing something” Adam pipes up

“I think youre absolutely right Adam. Everyone please rise”, the crowd stands up, “it would be a shame to start without this, Lukes favourite song” He groans as the smile on my face grows infinitely bigger “Take it away” I point to the sound guys & Heave Away starts to blare from the system.

I skate around pumping up the crowd as everyone gets into it. I see a few faces from the US WJC team look like they’re trying not to enjoy themselves, but I know they like the song. Between Adam & I, We’ve played it enough. A ripple of laughter comes from the crowd as I hear skating behind me. Luke grabs me and pulls me over to the box I normally sit in, stealing my mic in the process.

“Think that’ll stop me babe? I can yell pretty loud too”

“Oh I know” he winks, “and so does the rest of the house” My mouth drops as I know what he’s insinuating. 
“Now Ive got a game to win” he says as the final notes of the song play. He turns around but I grab his jersey before he can get away, “think youre forgetting something” He kisses me quickly before getting back to centre ice.

The crowd at Yost is absolutely electric through out the game, and the boys are having a blast. Throughout the first period, I’m texting my friends & the others who work in the arena to see what they think about my plan for our gatecrashers.

(I can’t describe a game to save my life, despite having watched hockey since I was a kid, so just use your imagination for whats actually going on on the ice:) )

First intermission comes up, and the Canada side is leading, obviously. The boys head to the dressing rooms, and the music starts going. I head back to the dressing rooms to deal with the new guys. I crack the door to the away room & Yell

“You better be decent, im coming in” before pushing the door. A few guys my ass, I think as I take in half of the team jack played with in the program & a bunch of young NHL guys.

“Sup Mase” I stick out my fist. “Long time. Matty, Briss, Beech, nice to see you.”

“Trevor” I narrow my eyes at him

“Okay, I wasn’t expecting any of you but I have something for you. Since you idiots, Zegras & Cole im looking at you, didnt assume that I’d make you participate, none of you have gear. Luckily for you, we’ll be able to scrounge some stuff up. Follow ME!” I walk out and they file out behind me. Over to the Michigan dressing room, which is a little bit full right now.

“Hey boys, im coming in” I dont bother checking before opening the door, they’re pretty used to it by now.

“Jesus Christ its like a minefield in here” I have tp jump over a couple of things and dodge equipment as I make my way over to Luke before plopping on his lap. “Apparently we have some additional guests” I sweep my hands towards to door as heads poke in. “& We need some equipment. Ive talked to Joe (equipment manager) & he’s seeing what he can find. But I wanted to ask if anyone minds letting them borrow a stick?” Luke rests his head on my shoulder as we watch the chaos, as guys jump up to say hey, chat & just have a good time. “Is it bad that I’m excited to see what you make them do?” He says. “Nope” I grin, “ they have no idea what’s coming”.

The horn blares and the gatecrashers leave so the rest of the guys can head back to the ice.

“Just to remind you guys” I say once the cheering had died down “ were only going to be playing 2 periods of hockey, but We have something pretty fun to replace that third period. Now Lets get back to it!!”

Th game restarts and its awesome to watch. Its face paced but still clearly a fun game. Watching Luke & Quinn play on the same line has me smiling like an idiot since I know how much Luke had wanted to play with him in a game setting. Its pretty special & I’m glad I could make it happen.

The final horn sounds, and ‘Canada’ wins, but all the guys are joking around & having fun so I know there not taking it too seriously. Which is good.

“Alright alright, how was that?” Roars from the crowd tell me that they liked it. “First I want to say thank you to all of our players for being such good sports about this, and a huge thanks to everyone who came back. Thanks for going along with my crazy idea, I think we’ve made tonight pretty memorable for everyone!” Yells of agreement come from all around me.

“I promised you a replacement for the third period, so lets get into it

The reason that so many of our hockey alumni can be here tonight is because of the NHL All Star break! Since none of them were invited to the All Star weekend, except Jack, who is still here for some inexplicable reason, I decided that we’ll give them a chance to show off their skills here, just like the skills competition but with no prep. Who needs Florida when you can be here? !” Cheers come from the crowd as they agree with me.

“Originally We had a couple of our Michigan guys & our Alumni who were going to be doing this, not that they knew that, but in true middle child fashion,” more laughs, “Jack had to make it about him & bring a few friends. So please welcome some of the most annoying guys ive ever met, Trevor Zegras, Cole Caulfield and Alex Turcotte”, cheers & boos ring out. “ I know, Wisconsin & BU suck, but since they decided to crash my event, they have to participate. We’ve also got special appearances from DUNDUDUUH Mason McTavish, reuniting him with is bestie Kent, go team Canada! And MAKE SOME NOISE FOR YOUR FORMER WOLVERINES, Matty Beniers, Brendan Brission, Jonny Beecher, Cam York & Josh Norris!!” The boys make their way onto the ice, sliding around & The noise turn deafening.

“Well I guess we know who the favourites are huh? Now you may be noticing, none of these gentlemen have any gear Again, they decided to crash but didn’t plan ahead, so they’re at a disadvantage. We’ve managed to find some sticks of them but that’s about it. Back to what’s happening next. The teams, Canada & US, will each pick five players to show off their skills. A few exceptions, KJ, Jacky, Blanks & Mackie have to do it, as do all of our interlopers. Portillo will be in net. Sort it out boys, you’ve got until I finish with our judges. Judging today, We’ve got Joe the equipment manager, the real star of this team, representing the student section, Annie & Tim, both 4th year students who work as Student trainers, and A woman who has who know exactly what she’s talking about when it comes to hockey, and is used to wrangling boys, its Mama Hughes!!” Our judges come out to one of the benches waving.

“Gentlemen, ARE YOU READY?” Nods all around. “If youre participating, line up single file at centre, everyone else, get out of the way!”

The crowd gets going again as the players split up. “I’m sure youre all a bit sick of me, so I’m going to pass the mic to my colleague Bob, who you may recognize. He’s going to be commenting on this portion of the evening, but I’lll be back soon!” I skate over & give Ellen a hug before handing out whiteboards & markers as the competition gets underway. I’m pretty impressed by what some of these guys have managed to come up with given the time crunch. I’m doodling on my own whiteboard, creating my masterpiece. Im also keeping track of the scores. Luckily Jack & Trevor are going last so I have some time. I lean my head on Ellen’s shoulder as she laughs at Mackies performance. “Thanks for doing this, I know it was a bit random” I say, & she wraps an arm around me

“I’m having a blast & I know all the boys are too. Youre coming to dinner tomorrow right?” “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ve never been more glad that we moved next door to you in Toronto. You make him so happy” I look up & lock eyes with Luke as she says this, a dopey grin on his face. holy shit I’m gonna cry. “You can’t make me cry right now Ellen, I haven’t embarrassed jack & Z yet. I can’t be crying when I do that.” We both laugh as Bill says, “& here come our final contestants, a dynamic duo Hughes number 2 & Zegras” they do pull off something pretty sweet, but I hold up my board when the rest of the judges do.

(Drawing of the Ducks Mascot saying “you suck Z”)

He laughs at it so I know he doesn’t think I’m too serious, and I stand up. That’s my cue.

“Alright how was that?!” The crowd goes nuts.

“Thanks to our four judges for your time. And now, the winner of the 2023 skills comp is “drumroll please”, number 11, Mackie!!!”

Bob skates out with the prize, which I think is pretty dope. We found a vintage Michigan Hockey sweat set & letterman jacket which looks cool as fuck, so im glad they were willing to let us give it away. I pass it to him & he takes a victory lap, taunting the other boys.

“Since this is a game, We’ve got something for our winners. The NHL gives a million dollars, but that boring (and im poor) so instead, we have something else for our boys!” The crowd cheers & bill skates towards me with a box. The teams line up opposite each others, & we skate in between them. I pass out the trophies, adorned with little maple leafs & filled with chocolate. “You were confident eh?” Kent says when I pass him his. “Duh” everyone laughs. we finish passing them then I address the crowd again.

“If you’ll direct your attention towards the screens,” everyone turns “ I have a special message from a couple of our participants.” A video of Cam, Jack, Trevor & Beecher pops up from when they were like 17. They’re wearing their USA jerseys and everyone laughs. Not them though. They know what’s coming. I press play & the singing starts “we Aren’t the champions, we aren’t the champions” Ive been sitting on this one for years. Its from the summer that year when I visited & we had some kind of competition. Their team lost, so Quinn & I made them change the lyrics to reflect that they lost. (I have no idea, Just need something that would be embarrassing).

‘Thank you gentlemen for that, I needed an occasion to play that & this seems like everyone enjoyed it” The crowd laughs along.

“Now, we need to crown an MVP. The way I’m going to to this is: each team pick 3 players, & then you, the crowd, will determine our MVP based on how loud you cheer. Teams you have 1 minute to offer your sacrifices.”

I skate over to the bench. “Now some of you may know that the NHL MVP gets a car, so we decided to stay on theme, but you know we do things better here at Michigan! Thanks to a donation from a generous alumni **Cough cough quinny** the 2023 MVP of our game will get, drumroll please” Everyone in the arena starts making noise and the boys start banging sticks and hollering, The Zamboni door opens & out drives Bill, in a little navy blue jeep (Like the ones for kids to drive) as laugher breaks out from everyone.

“So boys, can I get your top three please! Join me at centre ice.” Owen, Luke, Luca, Rutger, Ethan & Nick come towards me & line up in that order.

Alright, its up to you.” I skate over to Nick & hold my hand above his head Listening as the noise grows. “Decent. Next up” Im make my way down the line, each boy getting the crowd going. They’re all a bit taller, but I can still reach above them, until I get to Luke. I jump on his back & the crowd goes wild. “Last up, Owen! I think ill need some help here, Luke care to contribute?” He scoops me up & lifts me “im a bird!” People laugh & I hold my hand above Owen. Noise grows again. “So to avoid being called out for bias” “YOU ARE” a couple of the players yell “and giving it to my boy OP” Luke pretends to stumble & drops me back onto the ice as laughter rings out. I lean over & whisper, “ill get you for that” I right myself and continue “I’ve asked our skills judges to determine who the crowd got loudest for. On the count of three, please hold up your boards. 1, 2,3!!”They flip them around and I see one for Owen, one for Rutger, one for Luke & then Ellen flips hers, displaying Rutgers name. “Mom seriously!” I snicker as Luke yells in indignation & Ellen shrugs “Alright folks, there you have it. Your MVP!Rutger, Bill has the keys. Now you can stop stealing Luca��s Moped and drive this bad boy around campus.” He goes to sit in it & everyone laughs. “Okay, Thats all from me tonight. I just want to say a massive thank you again to all our alumni for participating and giving up part of your break to be here. To my boss & the rest of the team staff, thanks for trusting me on this & basically giving me free reign.” “Bad idea” one of the boys chirps “Thanks for going along with what was a bit of a harebrained idea that I think turned out pretty fun for all” the crowd agrees with me, “And thanks to all our guys for being such good sports about the change in programming. I’m not going to keep you here any longer, so Thank you & Goodnight!!” The crowd screams & cheers as I wrap my arms around Luke. “Oh before I forget, allow us to play you out with this teams favourite party playlist. Once more, for CANADA, Billy you know what I want” A thumbs up from the sound guy “COME GET YOUR DUDS IN ORDER!!”

I pass the mic to someone as they skate past, and Luke & I skate in a circle. “Youre incredible, you know that?’ He drops his forehead to mine. “Glad you finally see it” I chuckle. “Did you have fun” “are you kidding babe? I dont think ive ever had as much fun playing a game, & playing with Quinn was awesome. I can’t believe you pulled this off” Suddenly my song cuts out & he breathes a sigh or relief “oh thank god”

I lift my head to see who’s messing with it, when Luke spins me around & I see Quinn with the mic, Bordy & Duke skating towards me. Now that I look, none of the boys have left the ice.

“Sorry everyone, We’ll be quick. There’s one person who is entirely responsible for tonight, and we think that she needs some applause! Give it up for y/n l/n” I think im going to go deaf with how loud the barn gets, or maybe its just from Luke yelling in my ear. My face is bright red & I try to turn into Lukes chest, but he keeps me in position. Bordy grabs the mic “You’ve been an important part of this team for the past three years, even before Luke, and We wanted to do something to show our thanks. since some of us had a bit more notice” “We found out 30 minutes before you guys” duke pipes up gesturing to the crowd “Anyway, we have a little something for you to show our thanks” Duke pulls out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and passes them to me. “I knew you were in love with me Duker. Does this mean you accept my valentine?” The boys that can hear me laugh, and Bordy keeps going “ you can thank Quinn for organizing this one, but Drumroll please” Banging from around the arena grows “Your very own Michigan jersey” He holds it up & flips it around to show my name on the back. My mouth drops, “Thats dope! Holy shit!’ I pass Luke the flowers & take it, pulling it on over my hoodie. “Guys this is awesome, thank you!” “One last thing,” Quinn says, as he produces a jacket from behind his back, the same kind that we used as the skills prize. Apparently there were two of them laying around. “Oh hell yeah! Mackie & I are going to look so much cooler than all of you!” They all laugh as I try to hug the three of them at once, before pulling back. “Alright, thats really all that we have for you tonight,’ Quinn says, addressing the crowd, “so well let you get out of here. Billy, lets get the music back on!” The next song plays as im grabbed by Luke & suddenly surrounded by the whole team. I’m crushed into a hug with most of them, laughing. I get out & manage to give everyone a quick hug before I make my way back to Luke, who’s now chatting to his mum & brothers. “What’s the plan now y/n?” Jack asks. “Man I dont know, do I have to plan everything?” He laughs. “The boys were talking about a party at the senior house, but im not sure if well fit everyone.” “We can try babe” Luke says “I’m going to go get changed & see what they’re thinking” he kisses me before heading towards the dressing room About thirty minutes lates, we’re finally leaving the arena. Luke & I are grabbing dinner but then its to the house to party. Some of the boys are doing the booze run, but everyones heading over there pretty soon. We grab a quick bite at one of the places we love and make our way down the road. We get to the house but the doors locked. I text one of the boys and they come, but the music cuts out once the door opens. “Ladies & gentlemen,” Nolan, who opened the door yells “The woman of the hour, Y/N!!!” The boys cheer as we step into the house & I laugh. Half of them are blasted already, but we catch up pretty quick. By the time the end of the night rolls around, I’ve seen thing I never wanted to (Shudder), but I’ve had fun, and I know this is the kind of night that ill remember forever.

ESPN Broadcast:

The biggest news coming out of the hockey world this week is surprisingly not the All star weekend. Absolutely everyone has been talking about the University of Michigan. On Friday night, fans were treated to a different kind of show. When introducing the night, host y/n l/n, a close family friend of the Hughes family, declared that it was a “Canada vs USA’ game, filled with the current roster & various alumni. I think a lot of people were sceptical, but once the night go going the crowd were really into it. We saw some of the leagues young stars I dont know about you but I absolutely loved the idea and the fans did too. A 2 period game took place, and If you want to see more, check the broadcast from that night, it was great, fun hockey, not too serious but very entertaining. Fans were shocked as more young stars made their way onto the ice, as they replaced the final period with a mini skills competition.

The event was live-streamed on social media & got fans around the country interested. Comments on social media included:

The NHL could really take some tips from the Michigan game this weekend. Ten times more entertaining than All Star.

Y/N has to be one of the most chaotic commentators that Ive ever seen, but She makes it work. Absolutely hilarious.

Luke Hughes Girlfriend, Y/n, doing nothing but roast jack was hilarious. I need to know what he did to get “punished” by wearing a Canada jersey though

I need to see y/n commentating the All Star game in the future, she ws great!

Fuck the All Star weekend, I need a repeat of that Michigan game next year!

I go to OSU but I would’ve loved to be in Yost last night.

Y/n putting on a whole ass game just so her boyfriend can play on the same line as his favourite brother. I see you girl.

NHLers even got involved, with stars like Dylan Larkin tweeting “can’t believe I didn’t get an invite @/YnLn” and other notable alumni echoed the sentiment. Former Captain & Goalie Strauss Mann got in on it, commenting “ damn thats what I get for taking care of you your first year huh? I’ll remember this”.

“HOLY SHIT. LUKE!! They’re talking about me on ESPN! What the fuck? “

Bonus:

Frozen four finals

Broadcaster:

We’ve just been informed of one last change to tonights final game, the University of Michigan have decided to switch their goal song for tonight to pay tribute to someone. You know as much as we do, so hopefully we’ll get a chance to hear it tonight as our game gets underway.

Xx

[strawbrerian-writes]

About Damn Time

This fucking thing was meant to be my contribution for @elucienweekofficial day 7 Prompt: AU. Did I get it complete in time? No. Life got in my way. Oh Well.

So here's a smutty, more plot than I meant it to have, really long Elucien one-shot. Which I am completely dedicating to @separatist-apologist for being a wonderful human and inspiring me and so many others out there.

Title: About Damn Time

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Elain planned to have a quiet, cool day off. The universe took one look at her plans and said "bet."

Elain Archeron was convinced that a good cup of coffee could stop wars.

She was equally convinced it was a lack of a good cup of coffee that caused them.

It was 7:30 in the morning, and she was struggling. Summer was in full swing. As a landscaper, she preferred to do her work as early as possible. It was both better for the plants and for her employees’ disposition, as working conditions from eleven on in the summer were the stuff of nightmares.

The sun would be relentless. The heat would climb well into the nineties and the “feels like” would push it into triple digits. Most people would retreat to the air conditioning or find some body of water and stay there.

If the heat weren’t bad enough, average eighty percent humidity meant that even standing outside for five minutes kept her entire body soaking wet without her consent and her hair threatening to mutiny even in its braid.

The heat wouldn’t stop the bugs, though. They’d swarm, getting stuck in her sweat and biting any skin left exposed.

Elain loved it. She loved the messiness of it. The way the dirt was always cool beneath her fingers, the way the right plants flourished under the burning sun. She was made for sunny days and warm weather and mess.

She wasn’t crazy, though. Even she had her limits. Like the fact that it was 90% humidity and 90 degrees at seven-thirty with the weatherman calling for over 100 degrees by noon when she’d meant to be up and at the jobsite by six. She’d had three of her five employees call in, taking advantage of her high temps’ policy.

She usually wouldn’t mind. Had even decided last night to call it, herself. She texted all clients on the books for the day to let them know her crew would get to them the following business day and turned off her alarm.    

Until her favorite client called that morning.

The director of the public library was in a panic, begging her to get the landscaping done before the summer reading program finale. Tomorrow. It was their biggest program of the year and auditors from the state were coming in.

“We have the potential to bring massive grants if everything goes off without a hitch. We could finally start the renovations we need. I know the weather is bad, Elain, but please I’ll pay double. Out of my own damn pocket,” Helion begged, his usually rich, smoky voice taking on a whine.  

“It’s not just that, Helion,” she sighed into the receiver. “I’m down three guys today due to heat. You know my temps’ policy; I can’t make them come in. It takes four of us total to do a job that big in a day.”

“How many do you have?” he responded quickly. Elain could hear shuffling in the background and a woman’s voice murmuring. Likely his wife, who has hired Elain on several occasions to spruce up her gardens.

“Including myself, three.”

“Great! I have a meeting this morning and then I’ll be out to help. Sylva is grabbing Aodhan. He’ll meet you in, what? Thirty?” Helion was determined. She’d give him that.   

“Aodhan Vanserra?” Elain questioned. She started to gather her things for the day. She knew the moment she answered the phone she was going to go. “Is he back in town?”

“He likes to get his hands dirty, and he’s strong. Put him to work wherever you need him,” Helion said loudly. She heard more scuffling, doors being shut and then her friend was back in a whisper, “Beron kicked him out, cut him off, and nearly killed the poor guy. Do not say anything about his ear.”

“What’s wrong with his ear?” Elain whispered as well. Even though she was in a room by herself and presumably no one could hear her.

“Later,” Helion hissed, then louder, “and you’re not paying him, dear. I am. As a thank you for this. Truly.”

“I didn’t say I’d do it,” Elain lied sweetly. Of course, she had already shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could pull on her brown work boots.  

“E-laain,” Helion whined, drawing her name out ridiculously, “but you love me.”

She sighed theatrically. “You know I do. You don’t have to pay extra. Just take care of your step-son and provide us with lunch and hydration.”

“Deal!” Helion’s shout was nothing short of triumphant. “Love you, too. See you soon.”  

He hung up the phone, leaving Elain standing in her living room shaking her head.

Elain couldn’t bring herself to say no to Helion.

She’d spent most of her days in that library. Helion had become one of her closest friends over the years. Before he was director of the library, he was a high school history teacher and headed up the gardening club. He was probably Elain’s most favorite person outside of her family.   

So, she threw her hair in a rough ponytail and rushed out the door. Between the two employees who agreed to work the heat and Aodhan, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day. She’d be starting later than she wanted but with any luck, she’d been done before they all melted into plant food.

She’d do just about anything for her clients, especially Helion.

Well, except give up her morning large, iced coffee. He could wait another ten minutes. She was feeling chocolate peanut butter and whipped cream this morning.

“Elain?”

Every muscle in her body tensed. She squeezed her eyes tight, counting to three before she turned around.

Standing in line just behind Elain was her ex-boyfriend, Graysen Lorde and a very petite, beautiful woman she’d never seen before. She had beautiful ebony skin and sleek, black hair down to her shoulders. They were both dressed for work, Graysen in the gray slacks and a white button-down that indicated it was Thursday, the woman in a sleek, black pantsuit and heels.

“Graysen?”

What was he doing here? Last she’d heard he moved, took a high paying position at a new bank out west. Not to mention, he hated coffee.

“I thought that was you,” he said with a nervous smile. “You look…good.”

Elain glanced down at her clothes. She was rushed this morning, grabbing the first set of anything she could find. Which meant wearing a pair of canvas shorts with tears from work, a white tank top with a dirt stain along the bottom hem where she’d undoubtedly rubbed her hands without thinking, and an oversized green flannel one of her little sister’s friends had left behind years ago, in an attempt to hide the stains and tears of her work clothes.

“Thanks, just heading into the office,” she joked lamely. Graysen was never a fan of her “blue-collar” job. When they met, she was a bank teller working through community college. She spent her days in business casual clothing, hair always curled, and her makeup flawless.

No dirt under her nails. No sweat. No mess. No fun.

Graysen looked as he always had. Handsome face, sandy brown hair cut close, clothes tailored perfectly to his body. He looked like he’d put on some muscle, and maybe gotten a little tan somewhere.

“You’re Elain Archeron?” the beautiful woman said smiling, her voice deeper than she expected. It was almost musical. Graysen coughed a little and seemed to give her some kind of a look from the side.

Elain tried to brush it off. They had split over a year now, halfway agreeable, but she knew her ex to twist everything to his advantage. There was no telling what he’d told this woman.  

She collected herself, standing a little straighter. She brushed her hands off on her shirt. “Uh, yeah…yes. I’m Elain Archeron.”

“Oh wow! You did the floral arrangements for my sister’s wedding this past February! The Rosenbluth/Cress wedding,” the woman smiled brilliantly, her pearly white teeth shining. She seemed…genuine. She even reached out her hand to shake Elain’s.

Elain remembered the wedding. It was a Valentine’s wedding. The bride wanted every pink, red, and white flower in existence. If that wasn’t a tall enough order, she’d waited until a week before the wedding to order anything at all. A week before Valentine’s Day. Every shop in a fifty-mile radius was booked up, and no florist would take her on.

Then someone had given Elain’s name to the bride’s mother.

“I remember her,” Elain mused. She took the woman’s offered hand in a firm shake. It was surprisingly calloused – just like her own. “I’d done some floral arranging before, but nothing to that scale. It was a nice challenge.”

They moved up a bit in line. She snuck a glance at Graysen. His face was quickly losing color.  

“Oh, don’t be modest! She asked for the moon, and you gave it to her. You pulled an absolute miracle out of thin air,” the still nameless woman gushed. Elain was starting to blush. There was something so kind and sincere about this woman that it put her at ease. She just had one of those sunny personalities that drew people in. Elain couldn’t help but like this woman. “I honestly wish I would’ve known about you sooner, and I wouldn’t have wasted my money on the hack who did our wedding.”

Wait, what? Elain’s brain stuttered. She prayed the shock didn’t show on her face. Our wedding?

“Cora…” Graysen started, a hint of warning in his voice. He had a thin line of sweat beading up on his hairline now, his face completely pallid. The woman paid him no attention.

“Don’t you remember, babe? The flowers were half wilted before the ceremony was even over. It was a disaster,” Cora – his wife, apparently – went on seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the atmosphere. “They were sunflowers, even. Hardy things, right? Perfect for a fall wedding, but no…the guy had cut them too early, didn’t care for them properly and they were dead before nightfall.”

In that moment, three things became absolutely certain to Elain.

First, Graysen had lied to her when they broke up. He’d said they’d drifted apart, and it just wasn’t working out anymore.  

Second, he had to get married within weeks of breaking up with her. Which meant either the man who took six months deciding on which tie to wear to a Christmas banquet suddenly decided to add some serious spontaneity to his life, or ...

Elain didn’t want to think about or, because the last thing that was very clear in that moment was that this woman – Cora, Graysen’s wife ­– had no idea who the hell Elain really was.

Cora kept talking, but Elain couldn’t hear. Her heartbeat was thumping so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything besides her own panic and rising anger. She was vaguely aware of the line jostling her forward. Cora was still smiling, going on about the wedding and flowers and what a wonderful job Elain did for her friend.

Bile was rising in her throat. She had to get out of here. She’d send Helion out for coffee. He owed her, but she had to leave.

“I couldn’t remember if you wanted Lemon or Raspberry, so I got one of each,” a confident, low voice broke through her panic. Elain turned to the source and looked up…and up.

A very tall, very handsome man in a black t-shirt and jeans was standing beside her holding out parchment wrapped scones in one of his massive hands. The other hand held two coffees by the bottom, impressively long fingers keeping them steady. She looked farther up at the curve of his nose, those full, full lips and the familiar cut of jawline. At the rich, auburn hair pulled into a tight bun. At the long scar running along the side of his face.

Oh thank God, she knew this man.

“Babe?” he said it as a question, head quirked slightly. Elain could have kissed him. Might have, had she not been frozen in place.

“Lemon,” she blurted more forcefully than she’d meant. She grabbed the correct scone from his hand and one of the coffees, as if he’d gotten it for her. She smiled gratefully at him. “I’m feeling lemon today. Thank you, Lucien.”

His name rolled off her tongue with ease.

Lucien grinned. “A little sour today, sweet-tart?”

“Don’t you mean sweetheart?” she teased back, trying to appear effortless. Graysen and his wife were still standing there, after all, watching with interest. Though by now color had started to return to Graysen’s face.

“I said what I said,” Lucien smirked proudly. He turned to the other two. “Good to see you again, Gray.” He nodded. “Cora.”

“That explains it!” Cora exclaimed, clapping her hands cheerfully. She turned to her husband. “That’s how you knew to recommend Elain! She’s Lucien’s girl.”

Graysen’s eyes hardened imperceptibly. His ears were turning red, a sign of rising temper. Elain held her smile as Lucien stepped a bit closer to her, claiming her space. At least now she knew how Mrs. Rosenbluth got her number.

“Yes ma’am,” Lucien answered for Graysen, still grinning like a fool. “Graysen mentioned how difficult a time your friend was having around the office one day, and I kindly offered my girl’s assistance.”

Graysen’s left eye twitched. “Yep.” He said, lips popping hard on the ‘p’. “That’s exactly right.”

Elain had to fight down a nervous laugh. This all felt so absurd.  

“It was good seeing you again Cora, Graysen, but I’ve got to get my lady to Pops. You know how he panics,” Lucien laughed. He gestured to the door, arms encircling Elain and ushering her toward it. “I’ll see you around, Lorde.”

Graysen nodded curtly, Cora giving an enthusiastic wave.

“It was nice to meet you, Elain!” Cora called sweetly. Elain smiled back, raising her coffee in the air as if in a wave.

“You too, Cora!”  

When they were outside the doors, Elain turned to Lucien. “Glass doors, Elain. He’s still watching,” Lucien said, smiling widely. Elain chanced a glance through the windows and sure enough, Graysen’s eyes hadn’t left her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, staying close to Lucien so as not to break the illusion. She looked down into her cup. “What is it?”

“It’s a Reese’s Iced Coffee, extra whip,” Lucien answered as he swirled the cup in his hand. “Which sounds absolutely atrocious with a lemon scone, by the way.”

Elain narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“Pops,” Lucien shrugged in response. He took a sip from his cup. “The coffee is amazing, though. I’ll give you that. Come on.” He motioned down the sidewalk, towards the parking lot a few buildings down.  

“Helion told you my drink order?” Elain questioned as they started walking down the street.

“Apparently you have him and mom both hooked on it,” Lucien explained. His russet eyes twinkled. “Though the scones were a guess.”   

“Oh,” Elain said softly. She eyed her scone for a minute, replaying the interaction in her head. She didn’t even know Graysen was back in town. Lucien seemed to, though. “Do you work with him?”

“Who? Lorde?” Lucien asked.

She gave a small nod.

“Not exactly,” Lucien shook his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of the hand holding the other pastry. “Different departments. Different floors. I really only see him at functions or in the gym.”

“When did he get back?” she asked. Elain didn’t want to seem like she was digging for information about an ex, but she was so thrown off by everything that she couldn’t help herself. She wanted answers. Lucien seemed to have some, at least.

“About two months ago, but I know he interviewed with Jurian back in February,” Lucien answered honestly.

“He works for Jurian?”

“Fuck no,” Lucien spat, his head whipping back and forth. He was smiling. “Jurian hates that guy.”

Elain giggled. They walked for a beat in silence before she was brave enough to ask.  

“So … did you know about…?”

“Only recently. He brought her a luncheon with my boss. He’s trying to switch out of accounting,” Lucien answered when she trailed off. “Until then, I didn’t know a damn thing.”

Elain and Graysen had dated on and off all through college. Lucien had been around for the entire disastrous thing.

She wasn’t as close to Lucien as Feyre was, but Lucien had always been an important part of Elain’s life. He’d always bought her flower seeds and pastries when she was down. He would drive her to the library on rainy days. He was at every party in college, living it up and chasing unwanted idiots off her and her sisters.

He walked with her in Feyre’s wedding, being both friends to the bride and groom. She was at the hospital with him the night of his wreck senior year.  His father was her first client when she opened her business. His mother her second.

But life took them in separate directions, Elain and Graysen got back together for the last time and Lucien just kind of…stopped coming around.

“He’s a bastard,” Lucien uttered as they arrived at their vehicles. “And he can’t hit his squats.”

Elain laughed. “Can’t all have thighs like yours Dump Truck,” she said with a smile, using his old high school nickname.

Lucien threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

“You know, I always did wonder where that shirt went,” he said, pointing to the flannel she currently had on. “Though how the hell you’re wearing that thing in this heat, I don’t understand.”

Elain looked down at it and grinned. “You don’t remember? You gave it to me after Jurian threw me in the pool at that kegger freshman year of college,” she said, ignoring his last comment. He didn’t need to know how it comforted her to wear it.

“You were in a white dress. Seemed like the right thing to do,” he shrugged. He had a lazy smirk still plastered to his face as he leaned against the side of his sedan.

“So, you do remember,” Elain narrowed her eyes at him.

“Guess so.”

“Then why’d you say you wondered where it went?” she asked exasperated. She sat her drinks down on the hood of her red truck.

“Something to say, I guess.” 

Elain shook her head. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was flirting with her. She did though. Lucien had only ever seen her as he saw Feyre, a silly little sister he had to take care of.

“Thank you, Lucien,” Elain said genuinely as she unlocked her truck door.

“What for?” he teased. He didn’t move, just stayed against his sedan, watching her with those rich reddish-brown eyes.

“The coffee, the scone, helping me out of an awkward situation.” She paused and gestured to her chest. “The shirt.”

He shrugged. “It was the right thing to do. You looked like you were gonna throw up or stab him.”

Elain giggled. “Which time?”

“Both,” Lucien chuckled. “Same look, different guy.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Elain said softly. “Both times.”

“No problem, sweet-tart.”

She couldn’t help smiling at him. Lucien was kind. Fun. “My hero,” she said rolling her eyes dramatically. He chuckled.

She needed to leave. She needed to get in her truck, back out, and get to the library before the heat got any worse. She couldn’t make herself do it. Not with him smiling like that.   

“I’m not getting my shirt back am I?”

“It’s been six years, Dump Truck. Give up.” He laughed again. Big and bold. She liked it. “I’ll see you around?” she asked, turning to get into her truck. She had to force herself to move.

“Yep, in about ten minutes,” Lucien said with a smile. Her hand stalled on the silver door handle.  

Elain cocked her head in confusion. Lucien’s smile only widened.

“Pops said you needed help,” he said, voice low and dangerously close to making her swoon. “Looks like I get to be your hero a little longer.”

**

“Two weeks! Two fucking weeks after you broke up?”

An older woman on the treadmill three machines down shot the three of them a dirty look. Elain mouthed “I’m sorry” before turning back to her sister. “Nesta, keep it down.”

“Like hell,” Nesta spat, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder. “I own the place. I’ll talk however I want to.”  

After leaving the coffee shop, Elain went straight to the library, followed closely by Lucien’s silver sedan. Her two guys were already there, shovels and rakes in hand. So was another man, who she could vaguely remember as being Lucien’s older half-brother Aodhan. He was shorter than Lucien, with brown hair not red. He was also missing the top part of his left ear. Per Helion’s instructions, she said nothing about it.

She’d shaken the cobwebs from her head and began to bark orders. She put her guys doing technical work, like trimming the hedges, weed eating and edging the property. When Helion came out ten minutes later, she made him get out the old zero turn he let her borrow and mow the entire lawn. The two brothers she put on hauling mulch, bags of topsoil, and garden stones.

All in all, they managed to get done in record time. Every one of them were drenched in sweat and red as a beet. Elain had never been so thankful for the heat. Her face had been scarlet for hours, ever since Lucien whipped his black top off ten minutes into the job, exposing a massive expanse of golden-brown muscle. When he commented on her flush, she brushed it off as the sun disagreeing with her pale skin.

She went home after, to shower and eat and maybe nap. Anything to get her mind off the sweat dripping down Lucien’s spine as he hauled a bag of topsoil across the lawn and the surprisingly dirty thought she had of tracing its path with her tongue.

Predictably, her mind bounced from one extreme to the other. She drifted back to that morning, and her interaction with Graysen. She couldn’t believe she did know that he’d gotten married.

So, she did what any woman in shoes would do. She wound up in a social media deep dive that was borderline stalking.

Graysen’s page turned out to be an information desert. Cora’s was also surprisingly sparse. There were lots of photos of cheerleading competitions, a few of her family – all beautiful – and a ton dedicated to a dachshund named Buttercup. Nothing actually personal.

Finally, after a good hour of deep diving into her ex’s life – something she’d swore she wouldn’t do after the breakup – Elain hit paydirt.

An obscure friend of a friend of a friend, who Elain didn’t even bother to remember their name, had posted a photo of a Graysen and Cora’s wedding, two weeks to the day that he broke up with Elain.

She read every single comment under the post. Then she put on her gym clothes – an adorable neon pink matching shorts and bra set, with a baggy band shirt – and left to find Nesta.

“You sure you can trust whoever posted it?” Gwyneth Berdara – her sister’s best friend — huffed out on the stair climber beside her. Elain liked the redhead. She was quiet and friendly, but a firecracker when pushed. She was a good foil for her sister’s outright bitchiness.

“Yeah, I knew he moved out west,” Elain managed out as she worked through her exhaustion. “Apparently, she’s from out there. I found the engagement announcement online.”

“Why bother with an announcement at all with how fast they got married?” Nesta spat. Her anger was rising, Elain could tell by the silver sheen crossing her sisters blue-grey eyes.

“They got engaged on Christmas,” Elain stated. She waited for it to sink in.   

“You broke up in September,” Nesta said finally, voice cold as ice. She slowed to a stop on her machine.

“We did,” Elain nodded, trudging on the stairs.

A beat.

“That motherfucker!” Gwyn shouted.  

The old woman on the treadmill threw her hands up and stalked off mumbling. She’d likely left to find the owner, Cassian, who would likely tell her he had as much control over his wife and her friends as he did the weather.

“Language, Berdara!” the deep voice of their trainer barked as Azriel turned the corner into the room. He stopped by Gwyn’s machine and leaned his tall frame around it, facing Elain. “Who are we calling a motherfucker?”

“Why do you get to say it?” Gwyn complained, shoving at him while still keeping pace. Azriel stepped back and ran an olive-colored hand into his black curls.

“I’m not yelling,” he stated drily. He pointed to the logo on his shirt. “And I work here.”

“Shouldn’t that make you less able to curse?” Gwyn asked, teal eyes narrowing as she glared at their trainer.

“Elain’s ex,” Nesta interrupted from the other side, still seething.

“Why do we care?” Azriel asked, ignoring Gwyn’s question. One dark eyebrow disappeared behind the black curls twisting over his face like shadows as he faced Elain. “You guys broke up over a year ago.”

“Because he lied to me,” Elain grunted, stomping at the machine, as if it were the cause of all of her problems. She was struggling now. It was one thing to think they’d broken up amicably. It was another to admit that he’d lied to her. He’d cheated on her. “He got engaged at Christmas.”

Azriel shrugged, “he moves fast I guess.” Gwyn groaned and slapped the emergency stop on her machine.

“The fucking useless douchecanoe shit stain on the underwear of existence was cheating on Elain the whole time they were together, you thick, beautiful fucking dumbass,” Gwyn snapped, shoving her index finger into Azriel’s chest to emphasize each word.

Elain slowed to a stop; eyes opened impossibly wide. She’d never known anyone outside Cassian or Rhysand to speak to Azriel that way.

Azriel was slack jawed. Gwyn was breathing heavy, finger still shoved into his chest.

“I…” he started. His voice was breathy, low, as if the words were stuck. Hazel eyes bored holes into Gwyn’s baby blues, “am so sorry Elain.”

She did not believe for a single second that he gave any thought to her. His tongue came out to swipe at his lower lip. Gwyn’s hand slowly fisted into the top he was wearing, right over the logo he’d pointed out earlier.

Elain whipped her head around to her sister and mouthed the word “when?” She discretely pointed between the the red head and the bodybuilder.

Nesta shrugged, a wide grin on her face, and shook her head. “Now?” she mouthed back.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something.”

Elain knew that voice. Had heard it all day long.

She looked away from her sister to where Lucien had walked up beside her machine.

Holy fuck.

She’d thought he looked nice earlier, shirtless and in jeans. But now…Lucien in athletic shorts was…almost better than coffee.

“No, we’re good,” Azriel said, not breaking eye contact with Gwyn. “I’ll meet you by the squat rack, Vanserra.” He grabbed Gwyn’s hand on his chest and leaned in. He whispered something in her ear and the red head actually wobbled.

“You good, Gwyn?” Nesta asked slyly.

The woman in question nodded. “Uh yeah, I just…forgot to eat lunch. Gonna go…fix that now,” she said before hopping off the stair climber. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, catch you later Gwyn,” Nesta waved her off.

Elain couldn’t help but notice that while she was talking to Nesta, she kept glancing back to Azriel. She also noticed the slight tilt of his head as he walked off.

“Okay then,” Lucien stared for a moment before shrugging.

“How are you not exhausted?” Elain asked him before she could stop herself.

Lucien grinned, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ve always had really high endurance,” he remarked, then winked at her. “Can’t help but notice you’re here, too.”

“I bounce back quick,” she quipped, unable to hide the little grin tugging at her lips.

“Hurry up, Vanserra!” Azriel called out. Lucien shrugged, nodded acknowledgement at Nesta and sauntered off to the weight racks with the visibly agitated trainer.

“When the fuck did that happen?” Nesta hissed, pointing at Lucien’s back.

Elain followed her finger to where Lucien had started to cool off at Azriel’s instruction.

Elain laughed brightly. “That has never happened. He just helped me out today at the library job. Well, and with Graysen.” She added as an afterthought.

“Helped you with Graysen?” Nesta quirked a brow.

The sisters resumed their climb. Elain wasn’t sure how long they’d be going today, she always just followed Nesta’s lead. Some days it was quick. Some days she couldn’t move when she got home.

“Yeah, he saved me from the whole encounter. Pretended to be with me, bought me a coffee and scone. Gray was starting to look like a tomato before we got out of there,” Elain smiled. Nesta gave her a side-eye.

“Pretended huh?”

“Don’t you start,” Elain warned. She hated her sisters’ meddling. From their attempts to set her up with moody Azriel, to dragging her clubbing all over the tri-county area, to one horrible incident involving a bag of flaming dog shit on an ex’s porch, she was done with letting them get involved in her love life.

“Whatever you say, Elain,” Nesta murmured unconvinced.

They continued their steps in easy quiet, the silence broken only by huffing and groaning. It was shaping up to be an ice bath kind of day, the rate they were going.  

Elain tried to get her mind off the burn in her calves or the way her sweaty hair kept clinging to her face. She kept glancing around the gym, watching the television in the corner playing basketball or trying to look out the windows at the sunset. Her eyes were traitors though. They kept going back to the weights. Where Lucien and Azriel were warming up, directly in front of them.  

Lucien had already taken his shirt off, the blue fabric flung across one of the chairs lining the back wall. His wine-red hair was braided away from his face and knotted at the top. He was wearing gray shorts.

Short, gray, athletic shorts that left nothing to the imagination. His thighs were on full display and Elain, for the first time since she’d heard her sister start calling him it, fullyunderstood why he was called Dump Truck. They were sculpted, thick and led up to an ass she wanted desperately to sink her teeth into.

She didn’t want to look at the front. She was scared to look at the front. The man had to have a shortcoming somewhere.

Nesta whistled. “You think Feyre ever tapped that?” she stage whispered, breaking the very comfortable silence in the most awkward way possible.  

“What? No!” Elain exclaimed. Lucien glanced up. He tossed her a grin and a little wave before readying himself for a pullup. She hoped like hell he couldn’t hear them.

“Oh, come on, they used to spend all that time together. They were practically inseparable,” Nesta drawled out. Had Elain been paying attention, maybe she would’ve seen the sly smirk gracing her otherwise elegant sister’s face.

“She was with Tamlin,” Elain pointed out. Her face twisted into a scowl. “Lucien would’ve never havedone that to Tamlin.”

“She wasn’t always with Tamlin,” Nesta sing-songed. “Remember when he keyed up her car? He told Jurian it was because he caught them in bed together.”

Elain tripped again. She hadn’t heard that. She’d never heard that. “Lucien admitted that?”

“No. Tamlin told Jurian he walked in on the two of them,” Nesta explained slowly. She waved a hand dismissively. “But that is just rumor.”

It better be, she caught herself thinking. She wasn’t sure where the possessiveness came from. Wasn’t sure she didn’t like it though.

“It better be, huh?” Nesta teased, answering her thoughts. Or, what she apparently had let slip through.

Lucien was breaking her concentration. It was his fault. Yes. His fault.

“What is he even doing here?” Elain tried to divert her sister’s attention. She did not want to talk about whatever feelings she may or may not have for Lucien Vanserra.

“Cass swiped him,” Nesta sighed, allowing herself to take the bait. Elain quirked a brow. Her sister pointed to Lucien. “Cassian wanted him on as an investor in the beginning. I put my foot down. Didn’t want Vanserra money if it meant being tied to Eris in any way.”

“Oh.” Elain understood that. Eris and Nesta had a … thing, once before. It didn’t end well. It was just another one of the many ways Lucien had been around forever.

“Yeah, anyway we ran into Lucien the other night at the movies. He was busy telling Feyre about how he couldn’t work out at the office gym anymore and Cass swooped in. Got a new client and Lucien agreed to a small investment in the business.”  

“He…couldn’t work out at the office gym?” Elain asked quietly.

Nesta shook her head. “Didn’t ask why. I just overhead him say he’d kill something or someone if he went back.”

He’d mentioned something earlier, but it would entirely too self-absorbed of her to think he couldn’t work out there anymore because of Graysen.

“Are you ok? Honestly?” Nesta asked, her soft voice barely heard over the whirring of the machine.

Elain sighed. “No. I’m angry,” she admitted, for the first time out loud. “He lied to me. For a very long time, apparently. And he did such a good job of it I never questioned it.”

She could feel the tightness in her chest building. She was angry. At Graysen for lying, at herself for falling for it. Strangely, there was no jealousy. She’d let that part go. Let him go. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to let the anger go, though.

“He’s just…such a douchecanoe,” she hissed, using Gwyn’s earlier term.  

“Do you want me to stab him?” Nesta asked seriously beside her. “We’ll call Rhys to hide the body.”

Elain blinked at her big sister. Nesta slowly cracked a smile, and they both erupted into a fit of giggles. Tears of some twisted mirth sprung to Elain’s eyes.

“Thank you, Nes,” she smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You know Rhys isn’t mafia.”

“We don’t know that,” Nesta said conspiratorially. She winked one blue-grey eye. “And besides, even if he wasn’t –“

“Which he’s not.”

“—he’d do it anyway. He loves us,” Nesta paused for a second, smirking, “well he loves you. And he loves Feyre and Cassian both enough not to fuck with me.”

“You know one day we’re going to walk in on the two of you in matching pjs, wearing face masks and watching ‘Mean Girls’ together,” Elain sighed out rolling her eyes. She’d never understand her sister’s relationship with their brother-in-law.

“Elain, honey, you know that wouldn’t happen. Rhys and I are far more ‘The Devil Wear’s Prada’ type,” Nesta said in a faux-haughty tone that had Elain laughing again.

This was why she sought out her sister. Nesta was her rock. They lapsed back into a companionable silence, working out beside each other while watching Azriel correct Lucien’s pull up form. She knew Nesta never missed an opportunity to ogle Azriel when he was training – and unfortunately was aware of how good a night Cassian would have. Typically, Elain would be right there watching the tall, dark trainer in utter appreciation as well.

Today though, she took the opportunity to watch the muscles in Lucien’s back work.

She’d spent a large portion of her workday dreaming about those muscles. The way sweat traveled over the striations. The way she imagined they might feel under her fingers. Her core started to ache as she watched his face, reddened from the exertion, twist into a determined grimace. She could easily imagine that same face over her, working hard to keep his own orgasm at bay as he pounded into her –

“Well, you know the best way to get over someone is get under someone else,” her sister interjected, breaking Elain of her reverie.

Oh God, please don’t let her have said something else out loud.

“What?” Elain asked in a daze. Nesta said nothing, just arched one flawless brow and inclined her head towards where Elain had been focused. “I’m already over Graysen! I’m mad at the lies, Nesta!”

“So? Sex is a fantastic way to work off frustration,” Nesta crooned, reaching up to shut off her machine. “Come on, we’re done for the night. Let’s go cool down.”  

**

Elain walked down the hall of her sister’s gym rubbing her neck. Nesta had turned their cool down into a thirty-minute yoga session. She had adopted her husband’s obsession with stretching, and Elain often had to suffer for it.  

Nesta had deposited Elain in her own personal office, pointing out a small wardrobe with a handful of spare clothes. She had said that Cassian had a late meeting with an athletic director from the college looking for a better outfit for conditioning and weight training. As soon as Nesta made her appearance and went over the financials, she’d be free to take her sister out for drinks.

“And hopefully find you a rebound,” Nesta had added with a wink.   

Elain had passably cleaned up. Nesta’s clothes always fit a little loose in the chest, but this dress was a wrap, thankfully.  

“The place is really lovely,” a low, melodic voice drifted around the corner up ahead of her.

Elain blinked for a moment. She vaguely recognized that voice, but she couldn’t quite remember where from.

It had been a long day.

“You said the locker rooms are this way, right?”

“Yes ma’am, let me show you Mrs. Lorde,” Cassian’s booming voice carried, maybe a little louder than necessary. As if he wanted to be heard.

Realization dawned on Elain just as the shadows of two people, one tall and bulky the other petite and lithe, became visible.

Nesta’s office was in the same hall, right past the locker rooms. Nesta had been in a meeting with Cassian and some athletic director.

Elain had been in Nesta’s office.

Oh shit, Cassian was trying to warn her.

Oh fuck…Mrs. Lorde.

Elain had glossed over it in the woman’s bio, the little tidbit of information irrelevant as she was too busy hunting for evidence of Graysen’s infidelity. But it was coming back to her now

All the photographs of smiling cheerleaders – smiling college cheerleaders.

Cora Lorde was the athletic director of the cheer department at the local college.

Cora was Graysen’s wife who seemingly had no idea her husband had been leading a double life.

Cora was walking down the hallway that very second to look at the locker rooms.  

She saw a foot round in the corner and ducked into the nearest door.

Straight into said locker room.

Someone else was in there, too. She was vaguely aware of hearing the shower running as panic overtook her hearing.

She squeaked for just a moment and survey the room for the best hiding spot. As she wasn’t flexible enough to fold herself into the lockers, the shower stalls were really the only place available. Surely the woman wouldn’t want to check the conditions of the stalls.

She ran to the closest shower stall door, shoved it open just enough to slide into and quickly closed it, throwing the lock into place. She released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She was in the clear.  

She kept her eyes on the door and threw her hands out behind her. She intended to back into the corner of the stall, hug the wall and wait for trouble to pass.

Only, her hands didn’t hit the cold tile she was expecting. Confused, Elain spread her fingers along the surface. It was hard and wet and warm…and hairy.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. This was not her fucking day.  

“If you insist,” the fleshy, hairy wall behind her murmured in a familiar, smoky voice.

Great. She’d ran into the wrong locker room.

Elain twisted around, coming face to chest with Lucien, again. She meant to tell him to keep his hands to himself, or to scream, or do something. Instead, she stared.

And stared.

Lucien was naked. Completely naked, all that glorious golden skin on display and so close if she stuck out her tongue she could trail it along his chest like she’d been dreaming about all day. He was also wet, water droplets running the length of that powerful body. His broad shoulders blocked the spray from hitting her directly. His hair was loose and drenched.

Elain was in danger.  

“As fascinating as this is, I don’t think for one second you’re in here to actually fuck me, Elain,” Lucien said. This close she could see his chest vibrate with his words.

It caused a small stream of water to dislodge from the dip of his collarbone. Elain’s brain, which was already working at half capacity, had finally short circuited the second she realized she was standing in the stall with a naked Lucien fucking Vanserra.

She didn’t hear what he said. Couldn’t hear anything. All of her senses, all of her focus was on that single stream of water flowing down, over his chest into the dips and ridges of his abs, down further until it got lost in the line of red hair trailing down to the edge of what could only be described as the most beautiful dick she’d ever seen.

Lucien’s dick.

Lucien’s very erect dick.

Lucien Vanserra’s very erect, very large dick that was an inch from touching her hand.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. Elain’s legs chose that moment to finally give out, too.

Strong hands shot out to grab her arms, steadying her. He immediately angled his hips backwards to put space between them. Not that it did much good in such a small stall.

“Never had that reaction before,” Lucien chuckled nervously. He cocked his head. “Are you good?”

No, she wasn’t good. Right now she couldn’t decide if she was doing great or she was delusional. How is it that someone that handsome, that kind, that…fucking wonderful also had a dick like that. The universe was not fair.

She couldn’t look away from it. Even though Lucien was trying to angle it away. She felt like a creep, a drooling pathetic creep but … hot damn.

“You’re going to give me a complex, Elain,” Lucien joked shyly. Elain nodded.

“A god-complex,” she whispered reverently. How long had it been since she’d been with anyone? It was Graysen she remembered, at least two months before the breakup.

“Did you just call my cock a god, Elain?” Lucien said astonished. His large hands shook her shoulders gently, breaking her line of sight with his member. Her brown eyes immediately snapped to his. He looked equal parts amused and concerned.

Elain parted her lips, she meant to reply. Honestly, she did. But she heard those familiar voices carrying into the locker room. She jerked around, out of Lucien’s hands and peered down. The shower door would hide their bodies…but not their feet. There was a gap about a foot wide, and this was the first stall in the locker room. If anyone looked, they’d see two sets of feet.

“What is going—”

Elain cut Lucien off by jumping him. Literally.

She scrambled up his tall body, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and locking her feet together behind his waist. Lucien’s hands darted to thighs to keep her steady. He opened his mouth again and Elain began to shake her head viciously.

“COVER YOUR JUNK!” Cassian bellowed. “LADY COMING IN.”  

Both of them whipped their heads to the door. Lucien angled his body, trying to keep the water from hitting Elain too badly.  

“You sure you want to see in here? We try to keep it looking decent, but the guys can be animals. As you can see both rooms are roughly the same set up,” Cassian’s voice, back to a normal level, still carried as he spoke.  

“You said this room had an extra ice bath?” Cora’s voice floated in. Their footsteps were louder, closer. They were standing just a few feet away.   

Lucien’s eyes went wide in understanding. He adjusted his grip on her, keeping her flush against him. She dug her fingers into his shoulders.  

“Yes ma’am, right this way,” Cassian continued, footsteps carrying him right past the shower stall.

Elain trembled, burying her head in Lucien’s neck. A large, strong hand came up to rub soothingly on her back.

“I don’t have too much longer,” Cora said. Cassian’s footsteps halted. “But I wanted to see, you said this room had a sauna but the women’s doesn’t?”

“Not exactly. It’s a co-ed sauna,” Cassian explained. “Both locker rooms exit into a short hall that leads either to the sauna or the pool.”

“Oh! I understand now! How fantastic!” Cora exclaimed. Elain heard her clap her hands again. “I hate to rush you, Mr. Marcellus but I do need to get out of here.”

“Of course! This way, please.”

Elain held her breath as their footsteps retreated, their voices getting quieter.    

“You good?” Lucien whispered in her ear. She shook her head, finally releasing her breath but not raising from his neck.  “Want to get down?” A pause. Then she shook her head again. He smelled good. She wanted to stay there.

If she got down, she’d have to face the fact he was naked. That she very much liked that he was naked. That for some reason the universe decided she would be the pincushion they’d poke today, and all she wanted was to be held.  

Then preferably held down and fucked by that big, beautiful cock nestled under her ass right now.

So, no. She didn’t want to get down.

“To be honest,” Lucien began to murmur, one hand still running the length of her spine while the other was wrapped around her lower back for support, “I thought I’d have to at least take you on a date before I got you to shower with me.”

Elain looked up cautiously from his neck. Chocolate brown eyes met deep russet. He was smiling. “Y…you thought about taking me on a date?” she asked. Her brain was still mush, still struggling to catch up.

“Elain,” he said her name slowly, reverently. She liked the way his lips moved with the syllables, the way his tongue flicked his teeth on the ‘l’. “I’ve wanted you since the day Jurian threw you in that pool.”

Wait…what?

“Wait…what?” she whispered. Lucien’s responding grin was nothing short of foxlike.  

“I’ve been crazy about you, Elain Archeron, since the moment I wrapped my shirt around you. It was the first time you smiled at me. Just me. I’ve been a goner since. And when I saw you in it again today…” he groaned. She felt it as it bubbled up his chest.

“I smiled at you before that,” she whispered again, afraid if she spoke any louder, she’d wake up from this dream.

“Not like that. Not like I was something…special. The only goddamn man in the room. Not like I was your hero,” he rasped out. He was struggling with something. Elain realized she’d been subconsciously rocking her hips against him in the tiniest motion.

“I already told you that you were,” she smiled, rocking her hips gently once again. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lucien shut his eyes, a muscle in his jaw feathering. He was barely hanging on. “You kept getting back with Lorde.”

Elain’s heart skipped. She brought her small, calloused hand to his chin and tilted it down until he opened his eyes. She hoped to convey everything in her look because words were beyond her. “I’m not with him now.”

“No…you’re not.” Lucien’s eyes fell to her lips, barely a breath separating them.

Elain held his chin, her thumb coming up to caress his bottom lip. “I would’ve chose you,” she breathed against his lips. “Had you said something, Lucien, I would’ve been yours.”

“Elain…” he breathed her name against her lips, the feel of it somehow more erotic than if he had kissed her. His chest was heaving with his breaths, so deep and uneven.

She leaned in, as close as she could without touching. “What are you going to do now?”

Lucien answered by kissing her softly, barely a brush against her lips. It sent lightning down her spine all the same. “I’m going to do exactly what you asked…if you’ll let me.”

“What I asked?” She was breathless, delirious. Her hips still rocked gently into him, his hands now guiding the movement. When had they gotten there?  

“When you ran in here…now sweet thing, can you remember what you said?” Lucien teased, voice barely more than a rasp. A smile tugged at the corners of those lips.

She nodded. Oh, she remembered.

Lucien tsked, tapping her thigh with one hand in warning. “Words, please.”

“Fuck me,” Elain demanded, loudly.

“With pleasure,” he growled.

It was an unleashing. Lucien turned, slamming her against the back wall, water now spraying down on the both of them. His mouth slanted over hers, full lips sucking her bottom between the two. She opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming her mouth for its own.

He pinned her against the wall with his hips as his hands roamed her bare skin, pulling and tugging her dress open to give him more to touch. One hand ran the length of her body, skimming the side of her breast, her neck, her ear before delving into her golden brown locks and yanking her head back so his lips could wrap around her pulse and bite.  One calloused hand slipped under the fabric of her dress, sliding up and up her thigh until it rested on the curve of her ass, kneading the the flesh there.

“Sweetheart…where are your panties?” He breathed against her neck, tongue slipping out to lick a long stripe up to her ear.

Her giggle turned to a moan. “I…I don’t wear them to the gym.”

Lucien’s answering groan was nothing short of pornographic. He wrapped his large hand around the sweep of her ass cheek, squeezing and spreading while his pelvis ground into her. She could feel that cock, now somehow sandwiched between them. She’d been too delirious to know how it had gotten there. Until that moment her hands had barely left his shoulders or left the tangle of his long red hair.

She had to feel him. Had to touch him. The urge was overwhelming.

She reached down, fingertips skimming the top of the rounded head of his cock. He was weeping at the slit. She gathered the liquid with her index finger and used it as lubrication, rubbing it around the sensitive head. The tip alone was large, the length of him thick and long. She was fascinated with the silky, hard feel of him.

Elain relished in the strangled cry Lucien gave into her neck as his mouth worked her pulse there. She wrapped him in her hand and began to pump. He jerked, once, twice in her hand. She squeezed a bit tighter, made another pass around the top when his larger hand snaked between them and stopped her. He gently pried her hand off him.

“I’m not going to last,” he breathed heavily next to her temple, “all day…all my fucking life I’ve been dreaming of this. There’s no way … I won’t last if you keep on.” He began to lower her feet to the tiled floor.

One calloused hand came up to cradle her cheek, running his thumb along her jaw. The other ripped the last tie holding her dress together. The dress finally fluttered open, revealing her sun kissed skin and total lack of undergarments.

Lucien groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled. He bent down under the spray, taking one peaked nipple in his mouth, nipping and sucking. The other he took in his hand, kneading and pulling at the flesh until Elain whimpered.  

She reached for him, but he angled his hips away again. “Nuh-uh,” he mouthed around her breast. He took one long, biting suck before pulling off with a pop. “Give him some time to cool off before I embarrass myself, sweetheart.” He moved his head to her other breast. “Give me some time to appreciate these gorgeous tits, huh?”

She nodded, bringing her hands up to tangle in his hair, nudging his head back towards his intended goal.  

Taking her lead, Lucien’s mouth descended on her previously neglected breast and went to work keying her up. He alternated between flicking the nipple with his tongue, nibbling at the soft flesh, or downright sucking it. His hands stroked down her sides, skimming her curves, nails grazing as he worked up and down. The sensations were intense, overwhelming. She’d never come from nipple stimulation alone, but…fuck.  

One hand slipped between her legs, long fingers slipping between her folds. The second his finger hit the slick of her his head pulled away from her chest and came to rest against her forehead.

“You are so fucking wet,” he moaned, eyes shut tight. “Is that for me?”

“No,” she lied breathlessly. “Watching Azriel work out got me all hot and bothered.”

“Yeah?” he asked, cracking open his eyes. His fingers didn’t stop their slow movements. Up and down the seam of her, not once touching her clit or her opening, carefully avoiding where she wanted him most. “You’re such a pretty little liar.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?” she tried to sound offended, but his teasing fingers stole her resolve.

“Azriel wasn’t at the library, Elain,” he chuckled darkly, his eyes boring into hers. “I saw how you kept looking at me when I was working.”

“How…how was I looking at you?” Her breath hitched. She tried to move, twist her hips or grind or do anything to get him to touch her where she wanted. She pulled his hair, raked her nails along his skin, but he was steady. Undeterred.

He dipped his head down to the curve of her ear and whispered. “Like you were in that weight room. Like I was a piece of fresh meat.”

“Felt…objectified, did you?” she whined. He pinned her hips back against the tiled wall with his free hand. Lucien nodded sardonically, parting his lips to no doubt give some asshole response. “Want to know a secret?” she interrupted him, voice shaking.

She leaned up as close as he allowed her, her lips grazing his jaw. She’d never been good at dirty talk. Graysen had hated it. She had no idea if Lucien would find this hot or tell her to shut up. “I had to take my panties off in my car after the coffee shop.” He went still, breath frozen in his chest. “I’ve been so wet for you all day, Lucien, that it’s been rubbing me raw,” she moaned, laying it on a little thick but he seemed too far gone to notice.

She took a deep breath and nipped at his jaw. “So won’t you please stop with the teasing and just fuck me already?”   

Lucien said nothing. He trembled in her arms for a moment, as if to collect himself. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again. She could’ve sworn there was literal fire staring back at her. In one swift movement, with no warning, Lucien filled her with his long middle finger. His pointer and ring finger held her open while he twisted slightly, crooking that middle finger and dragging it down inside her.

Elain nearly screamed. He quickly covered her mouth with his own, swallowing the sound. His tongue swept in, licking the length of her mouth while his finger pistoned in and out, dragging down with each thrust. It was incredible, but she needed more. Felt so selfish that she needed more.

She wiggled her butt and Lucien obliged, adding another finger, stretching her deliciously. She could feel how tight she was around his fingers; how great the stretch was. She knotted her fingers in his hair, tugging, keeping him against her.

He'd moved in closer, no longer angling himself away. He ground his cock against her hip for just a bit of his own relief as his fingers dragged her closer and closer to orgasm. She reached again for him, and he grabbed her hand, pinning it over her head, lacing their fingers together. Lucien shook his head against her, a clear no. He delved his tongue back in her mouth.

Elain moaned obscenely as he began to fuck her mouth in time with the fingers fucking her cunt. He devoured it, drinking in her sounds like a dying man. Just as she began to tremble, that weight in her core building and building, Lucien thrust in a third finger, scissoring the three a bit, stretching her beyond anything any man had ever done. He was readying her for his cock, she realized.  She was almost a goner right then with that thought.

Then Lucien ground the heel of his hand against her swollen clit as he thrust those fingers one last time. Her released slammed into her harder than she’d ever felt before. She saw stars. Every muscle in her body contracted, her abs caving in on themselves, her legs shaking uncontrollably. She may have screamed. She’d opened her mouth but either no sound come out, or the pounding of her heart in her ears was so loud she could hear nothing else.

Lucien hauled her against him, holding her tight between him and the wall, stroking her sides in soothing gestures as she started to come down.

“You with me?” he laughed shit-eating grin spread across that handsome face.

Elain nodded deliriously. “H-holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I’ve never … never…” she trailed off, head shaking, legs still trembling. Lucien laughed again, the sound the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

“Should I stop?” he murmured before he kissed her gently one more time.

Elain shook her head viciously. “I’ll kill you,” she hissed, nails digging into his shoulders. “If you fucking stop now, Lucien Vanserra, I will kill you.”    

Lucien erupted in laughter beside her, his whole body shaking. The movement rocked through her as well, and Elain was acutely aware of him still holding her up and open. He had been lining up his cock against her entrance, the tip she had been playing with gliding through her slick. Now, he was holding back. She tilted forward a bit, dragging her still quivering cunt over the head.

“I don’t have a condom, Elain,” he whispered tightly, moving his hips so his cock ground into her slickness broadside, giving her delicious friction. “I am clean though. Haven’t…haven’t in a while, and I’ve been checked since.”

“I’m on birth control,” she said quickly. “I get checked once a year. I’m good.” She was going to die if he didn’t get inside her.

Lucien grinned, lining them up, leaning down to take her mouth in his as he slammed home with one powerful stroke.

Oh fuck…

Oh fuck…

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY FUCKING IN MY LOCKER ROOM RIGHT NOW?” Cassian voice thundered through the locker room.

Elain froze up, her pussy clamping down so hard on Lucien’s cock they both had to bite the other to keep from screaming. One hand shot passed her head to steady them as Lucien’s legs began to shake.  

What did she do to the universe? Was she a puppy killer in a past life? Did she burn down a village full of orphans? Had she stepped on too many cracks and her dead mother was torturing her from beyond the grave?

“I’m running a gym, not a goddamn whorehouse, Azriel Singer!” Cassian swore, walking passed their stall. “Vanserra’s showering in here for fuck’s sake.”

“LUCIEN WAS LISTENING?” a high-pitched voice squealed from somewhere further down.

No…no way. There was no fucking way that this was actually happening.

Elain knew that voice.

She bit Lucien’s shoulder harder to keep from making noise. Her body trembled with silent laughter, sending vibrations through her core, which felt so…fucking…good. She just couldn’t enjoy it. Lucien made a small, strangled sound as his hips seemed to involuntarily jerk forward. She felt his cock jump, his body tense and his release fill her.

That fucker just orgasmed.  

She tried to look at him, but he was hiding his face in her neck. She shoved at him. He raised up sheepishly, golden skin nearly as red as his hair. A rush of fluid escaped her as he gently pulled out but didn’t set her down. I am so sorry, he mouthed.

“I didn’t know shit!” he yelled, voice cracking. Elain held on tight, trying her hardest to fight off a grin. Lucien looked like he was slowly losing it.    

“Get out Cassian,” she heard Azriel growl. “No one’s going anywhere with you standing in here.”

A low huff. “Works for me, just stop fucking in my gym!”

“We’ll stop when you stop,” she heard Azriel yell as footsteps retreated out of the locker room. Elain sighed, slumping against Lucien. Poor Lucien, who was still trying to avoid eye contact.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Azriel called out again.

She froze again, inadvertently clawing Lucien once more. His eyes finally met hers. “The fuck you mean?” Lucien asked for her, just as freaked as she was.

“You’re pretty loud, Elain,” the woman said with a laugh.

Elain and Lucien untangled from each other. Lucien wrapped a towel around his waist, his still flagging cock still large enough to tent the fabric. Elain wrapped her wet dress back around her, long enough she figured until she could reach the towel rack.

They stepped out of the stall.

Azriel and Gwyn were standing there, both with mussed hair and angry red marks, sharing satisfied smiles. Azriel still had the rope of one of the spa robes tied around his wrist. “Looks like you had fun,” Lucien remarked, no sign of the embarrassed man from a moment before.

Azriel’s grin threatened to split his face. Gwyn just brushed her leggings off, a little self-satisfied smirk playing on her own face.  

Elain couldn’t say anything.

She was suddenly hyperaware of everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Lucien being quick off the mark. Her own powerful orgasm – which apparently, she was screaming—and the fact she used Azriel’s name while Lucien had his fingers on her pussy.

Yup. She had to have been a puppy killer in a past life. She wondered if she passed out right now, if everyone would forget they heard anything at all.

“It’s totally cool, Elain,” Gwyn laughed, laying a delicate hand on her partner’s shoulder. “Azriel makes me horny all the time.”

“I’m going to die now,” she moaned. Lucien wrapped an arm around her, possessively, pulling her into his side. It was comforting.

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed,” Azriel said in a near sickly sweet tone. He was such an ass when he wanted to be. “It was a good line.”

“How come we didn’t hear you?” Lucien asked, trying to throw attention off of them. His face was slowly returning to its normal hue.

“I gagged him,” Gwyn stated, matter of fact, shrugging her thin shoulders. “And having a twin sister constantly around means you learn to be quiet.”

Elain and Lucien just stared in confusion. She couldn’t speak for Lucien, but Elain just had so many questions. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. She felt like a fish gasping for air, but she just couldn’t make the words come out.

“We were fucking in front of the security cameras,” Azriel answered their silent question. He pointed to the other end of the locker room. “There’s a camera on the storage room on the other side of the lockers. We’ve got equipment in there there Cass wants surveilled, so no…we aren’t pervs with cameras in the showers. It’s not even really in the locker room.”

Elain cocked her head. Honest to God that thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “Why in front of the cameras?” Lucien asked for her, pulling her in a little closer.  

“He ate your sister out on my desk last week,” Azriel stated plainly, turning to point at Gwyn. “She just fucked me on a new machine he has to assemble.”

“You’re evil,” Lucien chuckled. “But we owe you one.”

Azriel nodded. “I want Eris’s address.”

All three heads turned to Azriel. Even Gwyn looked at him skeptically. “Why for?” she was the one who asked. Lucien quirked a brow, awaiting the answer as well.

Azriel shrugged. “He pisses me off.”

Elain and Gwyn traded incredulous looks. Gwyn opened her mouth, no doubt to tell her partner how stupid he sounded, when Lucien began to nod. “Totally reasonable,” he muttered approvingly. “I’ll text it to you.”  

“Good man,” Azriel tugged at Gwyn’s hand. “Round two?” Gwyn’s answer was a smirk that could only be described as devious.

“Cassian and Nesta are going out for drinks,” Elain offered as she wrapped her arm around Lucien’s waist.

“Fuck yes,” Az said laughing, dragging a giggling Gwyn out of the locker room.

Elain turned to Lucien, “so…”

“I was already so hyped up, and you were so tight – oh my god Elain I’ve never in my life … and then you laughed. Do you have any idea what that feels like when you laugh?” Lucien began rambling. His eyes were wild, and the pink began to creep up his neck. “I’ve never done that before…I swear I –”

“Lucien!” Elain finally shouted, grabbing him by his chin once again. She gently urged him to look at her. “It’s ok. Just…what now?”

Lucien stepped closer, until she had to tilt her head back to see him. He smiled sheepishly. “I meant what I said. I’m crazy about you, Elain.”

“And I meant what I said,” she said breathlessly. “I really do think you’re my hero.”

“Come home with me?” Lucien urged, hugging her to his mostly naked body. “Let me make it up to you.”  

“For the night?”  

“Forever.”        

[glittter-vamp]

3!

Thank you for requesting! 🖤

Based on the song Wasn’t Me By Shaggy.

Warnings: Angst. Cheater!Joe X Reader. Explicit language. Mention of Sex & Alcohol. Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote this up on my lunch break earlier lol

Word count: 1,161

You left the house fuming and in tears. You couldn't believe what you had just walked into. Your Fiance Joe was throwing a party when you were away which he didn't tell you about. You walked into your house filled with people you don’t know, after being out of town for work. You thought it would be a cute idea to surprise Joe but you came home to a crazy house party and seeing something you didn't think you would of ever seen. "Hello?" Your best friend Liz answers the phone groggily. "Hey Liz, I'm sorry if I woke you up but could I crash at your place tonight?" You sniffle. "Y/N? Are you crying? What's going on?" You hear her wake up more. "I just needed to leave, I couldn't look at him." Is all that comes out trying to hold in a sob. "Yeah, yeah...come over but please drive safe. You shouldn't be crying and driving." She says. Of course your best friend would know when you're calling her from your car. "I'll be there in 5." You say before hanging up. 

You make it safely to Liz's house and as you pull into her driveway she opens the front door in her pajamas. You felt like shit for waking her up at 12AM but you just didn't know where to go. "I'm really sorry for coming here like this." You sniffle as Liz hugs you and lets you in. " You don't have to apologize, but what happened?" She asks as you follow her to the kitchen. "I came home early from my work trip. Instead of leaving tomorrow morning, I left tonight so surprise Joe and he had some fucking party going on." You say taking a breath before continuing. "I couldn't find Joe, I asked everyone around the house and they hadn't seen him either. So I went upstairs to our room and heard this noise coming from the bathroom. So I open the door and there he was with the fucking neighbor… fucking on the bathroom sink" You say getting livid all over again and Liz gasps. 

"Wait...the one that you told me about that was always a little too nice with Joe?" Liz asks and you nod. "Oh Y/N...I'm so sorry." Liz says hugging you again which made you cry again. "5 years Liz...we were supposed to get married in a few months." You sniffle. "He's gonna pay, you're going to have the last laugh in the end. I promise you that." Liz says rubbing your back. "I should of listened to my dad about dating a fucking NFL player." You mutter as she goes over to make some tea for you. "Man, I thought he'd be different...guess when you get that type of fame and money you get cut by that shitty cookie cutter. becoming the stereotype" Liz shakes her head as she turns on the stove and puts the kettle on it. "I already bought my dress, that was specially made." You sigh rubbing your face. "Girl, all you gotta do is sell that shit online and tell the story behind it. There's a facebook page of women in your situation and they sell like hot cakes. People love drama and supporting heartbroken women." She says making you chuckle. 

"Did he see you though?" Liz asks. "Yeah after quite sometime. Once he noticed me, I threw my ring in his face and ran downstairs leaving in my car before he could get dressed and even process me there." You scoff. "I'm just saying, when I see him...I might hurt him. Just letting you know." Liz says making you laugh. "I turned my location off, he shouldn't be showing up here." You shake your head. You and Liz enjoy your cup of tea and she tries her best to take your mind off things. Talking about movies, concerts and whatever else but you could feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. "Okay, Y/N...either turn the phone off or I'm calling him and cussing him out myself." Liz says and you sigh. " I'll give you a minute. I gotta go pee anyways. "Liz says living you in her kitchen. 

You unlock your phone and see, a sea of missed texts and calls from Joe. You open the messages up and read the messages. 

J🧡-Please answer the phone Y/N. I'm so sorry, that wasn't me

J🧡-Just let me talk for a few minutes

J🧡-Please pick up

J🧡- That wasn't me, just let me explain.

J🧡- Why did you turn off your location? Are you somewhere safe?? At least tell me that

J🧡-Please come back home, I'll leave if you need space

You scoff at the dozens and dozens of messages like those and decide to call him. You take a deep breath and made the call. Almost immediately he answers. "Hello!? Y/N, Jesus are you okay?" Joe frantically asks. "How could I be okay, I just walked into my Fiance fucking our neighbor." You scoff. “I’m so sorry baby, that wasn’t me. I never meant for that to happen.” Joe says sounding broken himself but it really didn’t do anything for you. “You keep saying it wasn’t me, do you have some type of clone I didn’t know about? What excuse is that?!” You roll your eyes. “I was out of character, I had way too much to drink and I wasn’t thinking right- Joe, you are not blaming this on alcohol. I’ve gone out with my friends multiple times getting shit faced and I never even looked at another guy while I was with you!” You snap back.

“Just tell me what I need to do to regain your trust again, you can’t just throw 5 years away of us away. We can go to therapy,Move houses, whatever you want.” Joe practically begs over the phone. “Joe, the only person who threw this all away was you. Don’t worry about the house, I’ll be getting my stuff out this week. I’m Liz can help with finding me a place in such short notice.” You tell him holding back tears.

“Don’t do this Y/N, please.” Joe says his voice breaking at the end. “I’ll be over to get my stuff while you’re at practice, I’ll leave the keys in the garage and whatever else you’ve given me in the house.” You sniffle before you hang up knowing he was going to put up a fight and you just didn’t want to hear it right now.

“Are you okay?” Liz asks peeking into the kitchen where you were crying. “Nope but I can’t allow him to disrespect me like this and take him back.” You shake your head. “I’m proud of you, and of course I’ll help you find a place. I’m only the best realtor in Cincinnati.” She jokes making you smile. Here’s to starting all over again.

[luvcherry]

Let Me In [5] ✾

Natasha Romanoff x Reader. Word Count: 8.9k.

Part Four || Part Six ✾ Complete Chatroom Masterlist  

Summary: After last night and a morning mix up, Y/n calls up the only person in the city she knows.

Content: slight angst, mentions of past relationship, smut (oral sex).

A/N: Started this chapter some time ago and just now finished it so if there are any continuity errors please let me know! There will be two more chapters after this. Enjoy!

minors, ageless blogs, and blank blogs will be blocked.

Too much sunlight had filled Y/n's hotel room for her liking. Her head was hurting and last night was a bit hazy despite not drinking. She struggled to sleep last night after it took some time to put Kennedy down for the night. The five year old was bothered by the fact that she was at the daycare center later than normal, complaining that Y/n had "forgotten" about her.

She groans as she rolls over in bed, not wanting to open her eyes because the light is too overbearing. She doesn't remember every single detail about last night, but then it comes back to her that she kissed Natasha and she felt a sense of shame. She doesn't understand why she did that, particularly in that moment too.

"Y/n?"

Kennedy's voice was small, but it was just enough for Y/n to hear.

"Yes?" Her voice was just as small and scratchy.

"Is it Saturday? Can we go to the zoo?"

Confusion set in by Kennedy's request. Finally she opened her eyes and she came face to face with the analog clock on the nightstand and it was 40 minutes into her day.

"Shit!"

How she overslept so late, she doesn't understand, but she goes into flight mode as she rushes Kennedy and herself to get ready. Kennedy must've thought it was the weekend because Y/n didn't wake her up at the usual 6am. Y/n felt awful for having to rush her out the door, promising to find a park to take her to if the nice weather persists throughout the day. She also felt bad for driving like a crazy person to the university.

She felt like a complete fuck-up. She goes out for one night, doesn't even drink, yet makes stupid decisions. A part of her almost wishes that she was indeed drunk last night so that way it would be easier to explain her actions. In the back of her mind is that kiss she shared with Natasha. It wasn't particularly passionate, nor did it last that long, but it was a poignant moment -- a moment that left her flustered and embarrassed. She had no time to check her phone until after she dropped Kennedy off at the daycare center, but the only text she had received was from her supervisor Prisha and another from Peter. Anxiety prevented her from opening them. She was 30 minutes late into a very important day. Not only did she want to get in early to prepare for tomorrow's lab assignment, she had a very important seminar to attend. Her colleagues kept talking about it last night at the bar (said event being the reason they needed to "de-stress" by drinking pricey alcohol). Stumbling in late was the last thing she wanted to do, but with it being further from the daycare than the building she usually works in, she realized she had no choice.

Y/n was nearly tripping over her feet trying not to start running to make it before being way too late. A few students looked at her funny as she zoomed past them; even as a full adult she still gets nervous around college-aged students. For a passing moment she wonders what they think of her. She's certain she looks a mess and she feels like one too. Y/n is always under the assumption that everyone else has their life together more than her, even if they're a college student surviving on freezer burnt waffles and a few-days-old carryout. The one thing she was always on top of thought was her job. Waking up late and missing work is not in her character. She hates to admit that last night really tripped her up. She struggled to sleep which led to this disaster.

When the building is finally in sight, Y/n feels a sense of relief. She would only have 15 minutes to prepare for tomorrow's assignment instead of the hour that she desperately needed. She wanted to look on top of things, but instead she looks clumsy. 15 minutes and she'll have to be at the seminar, completely unprepared if she's asked to speak on any of the work she's been doing with this team for the last week. She wanted to go back to the hotel last night and drone over her notes, but she let herself be easily swayed. She's always been so persuadable -- that's what landed her in situations where she gets her feelings hurt. If only she could be more steadfast during the times where it really matters.

For an important seminar to be occurring within minutes, the inside of the building is a little too quiet. Y/n was confused by the lack of people roaming around, but then it hit her that everyone is probably already inside the lecture hall where it's being held. Her body runs cold, goosebumps forming in the face of anxiety. It's the small moments like this that take her back to her childhood; moments that were ostracizing and damning.

She walks up the door to the lecture hall and pulls at the handle. She expected to walk in and have everyone's eyes dart towards her for being the last one to arrive. What she got instead was the door resisting her attempt to pull on it. She furrows her brow in confusion, but tries again -- the door still doesn't budge. Would they lock latecomers out? That doesn't sound right to her so she peers inside and sees absolutely no one through the thick tinted glass. This was the right room, 'M110'; she was sure of it. But, in fear of being wrong and even more late, she finally opens her phone to check her email.

Peter

'Hey, we're going to get lunch since the meeting is canceled. Wanna come with?'

Was he trying to trick her?

Peter wasn't a particularly nefarious person, but he was a little selfish and Y/n wouldn't put it past him to lie to her just so they could spend time together -- even if that meant missing an important meeting. However, once she saw the next text, she knew he wasn't joking.

Prisha

'Good morning Y/n! The seminar had to be canceled at the last minute. Apparently professor Blacksmith has "food poisoning." The seminar has been rescheduled for May 12th, so unfortunately you won't be here for it, but I would always be happy to forward you the notes. Take care!'

Y/n could feel her annoyance through text, however Y/n has never been more relieved. The shock of this morning had finally caught up to her and she was finally processing how hectic everything was. She lets out a laugh in disbelief. She felt like an idiot, and probably looked like one, but it didn't matter because she was relieved.

Whether someone's last minute food poisoning was true or not, she was happy. She had not expected to have a free day in the middle of the week. Usually she would have Kennedy alongside her on her free days, but that doesn't have to be the case today. Would the little girl be pissed that Y/n had a "fun day" without her? Maybe, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

Y/n can't remember the last time she had a full day to herself; no work, no Kennedy, and no problems. She loves her job, and loves Kennedy to no end, but a day to herself is something that sounds so foreign to her that she made the impulse to do it. She left the building with a smile on her face. Once again she probably looked like an idiot, but a happy one.

-

There were a lot of places in the city that Y/n never knew existed. Underground restaurants, book cellars, and a museum for obscure German artists. She looked at everything in awe, like a young girl like Kennedy would, as she walked down the street with nothing but her work bag slung over her shoulder. There was so much that it was excitedly overwhelming. She wondered why Natasha had never taken her to any of these places.

Natasha.

After this morning's fiasco, everything she feels about last night feels so trivial. Y/n is someone with a job -- a career really -- and a kid to look after. Acting like she's still some lovestruck college kid makes her feel childish.

While she wants to learn to have thoughts independent from others influence, that is only she has decided in this moment. It's taking her everything not to wonder if Natasha feels stupid just like her. She also wishes she could allow herself to wonder if Natasha thinks about her different. Did she kiss her to show that she still likes her? Was she just bored and liked the drama of this?

When she realizes that her mind is starting to focus on Natasha's feelings instead of her own, she shakes her head as if it will get all of those thoughts out. She doesn't want to care about what Natasha thinks because it would not help her either way. Yet her declaration of becoming emotionally independent is still premature, which is why she caves in seconds and texts her ex-girlfriend.

Y/n: 'Hey sorry this is so last minute, but are you free?'

Surprisingly, she received a text right back.

'Natasha: Just now taking my lunch. Why? Is everything okay?'

'Y/n: Yeah just wanted to talk about some things'

Their relationship has been discussed many times amongst each other, friends, and whoever would listen. Y/n remembers telling her neighbor's dog about it when she was dog sitting. She would never admit that to anyone, but she had temporarily felt better after it. By that time, she was able to tell the story like a pro. She had almost felt like an actress performing the lines of a play that she has been the star of for more than two years. The foundation of the story was there, and the timeline, but each retelling she would add flair to it. Whether it was a minor detail or her interjecting how she realized something was fucked up and should've known it back then. Her two best friends in college heard the story countless times, and Y/n is sure that if Peter wasn't such a horny freak she would be telling him the story too. The retelling of this story gets dizzying, and Y/n doesn't want it to define her anymore.

She can be normal. She can be around her ex and not harbor any bad feelings towards them. They used to tease her about it, but Y/n grew to admire how Amy could move on from men she dealt with. She wouldn't budge when Y/n pressed her to tell her who Kennedy's father was and to make him be present in her life. She seemed so indifferent about her bad relationships that it put things into perspective for Y/n. Everything that had happened in those years after the end of her first relationship seemed so trivial in comparison. Cutting her family off for good, the unintentional ending of a relationship, death of a friend, and becoming someone's parent were all so massive. Y/n has never had a second to grieve or to process. It's much easier to think about a relationship that was fated to end badly instead of the real world things she had to deal with. It's comforting to think about what is less painful even if it still brings pain.

Y/n thought about turning around when she got to Natasha's building. She's sure the guy at the desk is used to seeing her now, but she's not a regular. She has no idea why she's reaching out to see Natasha, but she won't think too hard about it. She sees this as a moment to herself even though she won't be alone.

"I was kind of surprised when I got a text from you," Natasha says as she welcomes her into her apartment. She is uncharacteristically nervous. She knows last night was an awkward moment for the both of them, and she probably shouldn't have let it happen, but she can't undo time. Y/n doesn't look upset so she can be relieved that she's not going to get chewed out. Still she's dying to know what brings her over here.

"I guess we're both full of surprises."

Y/n had confidence in her as she walked her way to Natasha's apartment, also surprised by herself, but now it had waned a little. She had to make it look like she wasn't here out of desperation. She is just here because Natasha is the only person she knows.

"You can make yourself comfortable on the couch. I'm supposed to be back in 45 minutes, but I can always take an extended lunch."

Y/n watches Natasha unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse. She felt like she was peeking in on an intimate moment and quickly pulled her eyes away. She felt her cheeks warm up when she thinks about how attractive it was. She's always liked how powerful and important Natasha seems. Sure, she works for people with blue Wikipedia names, but she is important too. Maybe it was some repressed fantasy of hers, but she's embarrassingly turned out. She tries to hide her face as if Natasha would be able to read her thoughts or something like that. Y/n can't stop thinking about what it would be like to have someone come home to her every weekday; to watch them unwind and come to her for comfort. She fantasize a lot over the years, and this time she won't stop herself from indulging a little.

"I'm surprised you don't make your own hours," Y/n jokes in an attempt to hide that she's feeling a little bit outside of herself. She isn't quite turned on because she's still worried that this "outing" might turn into a disaster.

"Oh make no mistake, I definitely do," Natasha then puts down her work briefcase. Sometimes she feels like an asshole when talking about her job, but she also likes showing out too. "I just wouldn't be able to function without a set schedule. I don't want my life to be a free-for-all." Knowing herself, Natasha would probably fall into a cycle of hook-ups and overindulgence if she didn't have the discipline her job forced her to have.

"Many people would love to have a job like that; one where you can set your own hours."

"I realize how lucky I am. Trust me, I do. But, that doesn't mean I should live a structureless life just because I can." Natasha decided in the air chair across from Y/n, who was now getting comfortable being here. "You know, we had dinner here not too long ago, but I feel like we still haven't caught up with each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we had to keep our conversation pretty lighthearted due to the child in the room, but that didn't stop us from getting contentious without each other the moment she was out. I know it was hasty to invite you over, but I truly did want to catch up with you. I know you're probably not on Facebook, so even if I did try to look you up I probably wouldn't find anything."

"There's not that much to catch-up on, Natasha."

"C'mon. You landed in Illinois with an entire child with you. I know you explained the situation, but you didn't tell me what your day to day life is like now. I hope I don't come off as rude, but I never expected you to be the type to have a child or want kids."

"It's not something I really thought about, but I kind of had no choice in the situation," Y/n pauses before redirecting a little, "our day to day life is fine. She's a good kid so I don't deal with tantrums and outbursts that much, but at the end of the day she is still five years old. She's very sociable and likes playing with others -- she doesn't like being alone at all. She's the opposite of me as a kid; very inquisitive and ambitious for her age. It puts my childhood into perspective for me."

"That's exactly why I don't plan on having kids. It wouldn't be fair to them either way because I'm too much of a workaholic, but also because I don't want to compare our upbringings and project onto them. Not that you're doing that," Natasha quickly adds, "but it's just that I know myself. I also fear that I will become just like my parents."

Y/n gets what Natasha is saying because she runs into the same problems herself. It's not as bad as she or Natasha might think it would be, but she doesn't try to convince Natasha otherwise -- it's something she would have to experience for herself. However, just Like Natasha thought of her, she could not see Natasha becoming a parent. She's a self-proclaimed workaholic, but Y/n believes she also isn't patient enough.

"I can understand that," is all Y/n says in response.

"I wanted to ask you this at dinner, but felt it was too intrusive. I was wondering to myself if you were here because you're relocating?"

"No, I'm not. I haven't received any offers like that. I am just here temporarily for work."

Natasha runs the risk of sounding desperate of asking Y/n if she would ever consider moving here and working at the university if the opportunity were to arise. She won't lie, if Y/n were to move here she would make an attempt to be in her life somehow. Not necessarily in a romantic way, but more so in a curious way. She can see that Y/n has changed and it's changes that would take more than two weeks to discover. It's possibly her selfish curiosity thinking about what it would look like to live in the same city as Y/n.

"The city is just too big and I'm not sure how Kennedy would adjust. She's five so she doesn't have many friends yet, but I wouldn't want to take her outside of such a familiar environment. Plus I can't imagine how much a two bedroom apartment would cost here."

"Do you like where you live now?"

"It's okay. It's not my dream location, but it's fine. It was really Amy who wanted to move there because she said we needed a 'new change of scenery'. I don't think the Midwest was doing anything for her." Y/n had agreed with her friend at the time because she wanted to be as far away from her parents as possible. She had lied to them about starting a graduate program, but she dropped out of it after the first semester. They were still giving her money for school for a full year before she made the confession. She vividly remembers ending the call and then blocking both of their numbers. Her current home is not her dream location, but it's always been a dream to be out of reach from her parents.

"Do you want something to drink?" Natasha suddenly asks. "It was rude of me not to offer you anything earlier."

"Uh sure. What do you have?"

"I have water, and a lot of unopened wines from investors."

Natasha's job was the most fascinating thing about her. Y/n was never fully sure about exactly what she did, but it seemed important. Natasha seemed to always be on the go.

"I'll take one of the wines. I don't know what would be good, you pick for me."

Natasha was surprised by Y/n's choice. She wasn't the legal drinking age when they were together, but being under the age of 21 would never deter the most determined college student. But, it was obvious that Y/n still wasn't much of a drinker because she was letting Natasha pick her drink. Natasha picked the one with the lowest alcohol content. It was a sweet white wine she has had before and figured that it would be the least offensive to the tongue for Y/n.

"I hope you like it," Natasha hands the glass filled up a quarter way to her ex-girlfriend. She remarks to herself how this doesn't feel awkward at all. Last night was awkward, and that dinner they had was certainly awkward, but today felt like two old friends catching up.

"I hope I do too."

Y/n pauses before taking a sip. She didn't know what to expect, but what she got was something sweet with a bitter punch at the last second before swallowing. It was good, really good. She is not an expert in the different qualities of wines or how different grapes provide a different experience, but she knows this is some good shit. It's hard to imagine that people would give quality, expensive gifts without any romantic or deep feelings attached. The world Natasha lives in is too interesting to her.

"I take it it's good," Natasha feels comfortable enough to tease her when she hears Y/n hum in approval in the glass. The way Y/n drinks it leaves her tempted to pour a glass for herself, but she knows if she pours a glass then she'll kick her feet up and not want to go back out for the rest of the day.

"It's really good. Thank you."

The liquid pools at the corners of her mouth as she downs it faster than she probably should. She has no clue about the low alcohol content, so a placebo effect is bound to take over if she asks for anymore. Luckily for her, she doesn't want to seem eager and doesn't ask Natasha for anymore.

"I can send you home with the bottle if you want. I have enough wine for one person."

"It's fine. I shouldn't drink while I'm away from home with Kennedy. I'd ask you to just give me the name, but it's probably something I can't afford."

Natasha didn't want to seem like an asshole and agree, but Y/n is probably right. She can imagine that she doesn't have the luxury to buy wines imported straight from a European country, nor does she have anyone to give her those things.

"Do you like being able to afford luxury items?" Y/n feels like her question is a bit too straightforward, embarrassing her a little bit, and tries to rectify it by just showing her plain curiosity, "like did you want to have a life opposite of one you had as a kid?"

"I guess so. It's less about living in the exact opposite way I did as I was younger and more so about having freedom and independence to decide how I live. College turned me into a city person and ultimately that comes with being able to afford the bill that comes with living here. I never set out to own luxury items, but it just comes with the territory I guess."

"Is it because you feel pressured by the industry you work in? Your friends I met a long time ago also live here, but they don't particularly live the same way you do. So I don't necessarily think it's a symptom of living in the city." Y/n was doing her best not to psychoanalyze Natasha, but all her nosy questions sounded like she was. For a long time she believed that Natasha's answers to tough questions about herself would somehow tell Y/n about herself. It was a belief that Y/n told herself was stupid and to let go, but with Natasha in front of her it rears its head.

"You could say that. I only care about my career though. I only 'keep up' because I have to. Jobs like this are 40% work and 60% socializing. I was shocked that the first conference I attended after being hired to work for Tony was more of a party than a conference. I was young and didn't want to accept that it wasn't about my talents or accomplishments. Toughest pill to swallow was that you get opportunities for being reliable more so than qualified. However, you also learn that being qualified doesn't mean you're dignified. So many people with better resumes and better references lost opportunities to me simply because I showed up and was ready to be of use. Pair that with me actually knowing what I was doing and you have a lucky situation."

Natasha began to feel like she was talking too much, but it has been a while since she's talked about the early aughts of her career. She remembers those days vividly and how determined she was. She figured that anyone who wanted to distance themselves from the caging of their young life would end up like her. That might not particularly be the case for Y/n though.

"There is a reason I'm at my office more than I am at home despite having the option to completely work from the comfort of my own home," Natasha continues, "I'll still put up with the parties disguised as conferences, but I'll only ever care about the work aspect of my job rather than the play."

"You can't fit anything else into your life, can you? From working late to having to fake it with investors, you really don't seem to have time for anything else."

Natasha sighed. It's true what Y/n is saying, but she doesn't say it out loud because she doesn't want to hurt Y/n's feelings. It's her way of subtly asking if her life could never fit Y/n into it. Natasha's dating habits aren't that much of a secret, but she had been fooling others (and herself) with certain relationships. She had one about 2 years ago that lasted a few months. She wasn't the one to end things for the first time and that was a huge reality check. She was getting too old to be messing around and playing with people's emotions so she decided not to do it at all. She's not available for a relationship, so she made herself unavailable for hook-ups too.

"I could use a hobby or two," Natasha jokes.

"But a relationship?"

"I gave up on that. I'm not saying it isn't important, but it necessarily isn't important to me."

Y/n isn't sure why she felt disappointed by Natasha's revelation. She was saddened by it too. Her first instinct was to blame herself since she believes she was Natasha's last 'real' relationship. But, this is who Natasha has been the entire time, it just took both of them took a while to see it.

"Oh...okay."

Y/n hasn't thought about getting into a new relationship in a long time, but she doesn't see it as something she wants to give up. Natasha was the last person she was with and she really hasn't put any effort into trying to find someone new. It's been almost a decade since their break-up and she figured that someone would magically come along and approach her and she would end up in a loving relationship. That magic never came which discouraged her into not trying. But, she never actually gave up, instead she just daydreamed about it.

"You don't think it's a little harsh to think that way?"

"Not for me; no it isn't."

"But aren't there things you miss about it?"

"Y/n, I'm not saying relationships are a work of the devil," she jokes to take Y/n out of her serious attitude, "I'm just saying I don't plan on having one any time soon. I won't say never because I could always have a near-death-experience and decide to change my life completely afterwards."

"Is that what you really think about relationships? That you would have to nearly die to be in one again?"

Natasha couldn't tell if Y/n was slightly offended or just confused. Sometimes Y/n still acts like she did as a 19 year-old in college. She was only inquisitive because she wanted Natasha to give an answer that would give her insight to the end of their own relationship. Sometimes things just end, she has to accept that.

"Don't take me so seriously Y/n. None of my revelations have anything to do with our relationship.”

Y/n was silent as she began to feel a little bit guilty about asking so many questions. She felt like she was interrogating Natasha when she really didn’t deserve it.

“I haven’t dated much either,” she admits. “I don’t have much time between work and taking care of Kennedy. Maybe when she goes to elementary school and gets a little older I’ll make the effort to find someone. It’s just hard.”

“But it’s not impossible,” Natasha interjects. Natasha doesn’t want Y/n to have a negative outlook on relationships like her.

“You’re right, but you’re also right about how easy it is to just focus on work. I’m not where I want to be in my career, so I feel like I should focus on that instead of dating, when in reality I could do both. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

It was sort of a revelation for Y/n, but she’s just scared. It’s hard for her to even consider someone liking her at this point since it has been so long. She knows people find her attractive, but that’s not the same as actually wanting to be with her.

She lets out a sigh and it’s a sigh that Natasha is familiar with. She feels bad that they’ve deviated to this topic because she assumed Y/n came over here to kill some time in a more fun way. Natasha and Y/n don’t stand on stable ground with each other, so she should’ve changed the topic or suggested they do something fun. However, in a way it seems like something that needed to be had — to be able to talk without any animosity.

“Do you wanna get dinner tonight? I can make reservations somewhere and you can bring Kennedy. I don’t know many kid friendly restaurants, but there are a few that my friend has brought her kids to without any problems.”

“I’m not sure. It’s not like I wouldn’t want to, but Kennedy and restaurants don’t really go hand-in-hand. She doesn’t like them that much. But, I’ll consider it.”

“Okay in the meantime we could do something until you make up your mind or until it’s time to go get Kennedy,” Natasha suggests.

“This is your city,” Y/n jokes, “what do you suggest we do?”

-

Natasha had convinced Y/n to let her take her out to lunch since dinner didn’t seem to be a viable option. There was a restaurant at the heart of the city that Natasha loved and she wanted to take Y/n there. It was only a five-year-old restaurant but was the sister restaurant of another beloved one in New York. Natasha had told her a little bit about it to which Y/n nodded as if she could name a world-renowned restaurant off the top of her head. What Y/n was able to catch onto was Natasha showing off a bit. She told her that normally one would have to reserve a table in advance, but she managed to get them a table for lunch. Y/n finds her zeal a bit amusing; Natasha is undoubtedly trying to impress her.

Neither of them were really dressed for an outing at such a nice place, and to Y/n’s annoyance, they were sitting in the middle of the restaurant. The people around them seem to either be associates meeting to sweeten a deal, or couples with too much money but nothing to do.

It wasn’t just the people around them that had Y/n feeling out of place. When she looked at the menu she thought she was crossing her eyes without knowing it. She was overwhelmed with the combinations of foods on the menu and the entire atmosphere itself. Natasha on the other hand seemed to be comfortable here. She makes comments on the menu about what she likes and what she thinks Y/n would like.

“Do you want wine? I can have them bring out a bottle to our table.”

“No, thank you. Probably not the best idea to get tipsy when I have to go get Kennedy later,” she jokes. Was her discomfort obvious that Natasha believed wine would loosen her up? She tried not to look so shifty, but it was hard. Natasha noticed it, but decided against saying anything in the off chance that she would embarrass Y/n.

“You’re right,” she pauses before looking up from her menu to look at Y/n, “do you think you’re ready to order?”

“I…don’t know? Honestly, you can order for me. Everything on here is confusing,” Y/n admits. She didn’t want to be difficult; it would just be easier to let Natasha decide.

“It’s okay,” Natasha laughs a little, “I was like that my first time here too. The menu only begins to make sense once you’ve been more than five times.”

These things are normal for Natasha, Y/n thinks to herself. She doesn’t struggle reading menus that are a mix of English and another language. Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about how she was dressed appropriately, yet Natasha didn’t seem to care at all.

Y/n leans in which catches Natasha’s attention. She notices how her eyes look from side to side as if she’s about to admit a life-altering secret.

“Being here doesn’t make you feel…weird?”

Natasha mimics Y/n by leaning and whispering, “no.”

Y/n can’t help but feel a little bit childish when she sees her behavior reflected back to her. She sits up straight and clears her throat. She begins to feel bad for making a big deal about where they’re at. She’s also envious of how Natasha is not able to care as much as she does.

“You need to learn to stop worrying. I know, it’s easier said than done, but the years are going to by in a blink and you’ll realize that all you’ve been doing with your life is worrying about things that don’t and never mattered.”

The waiter had interrupted their conversation. Y/n wanted to respond, but she struggled to come up with a rebuttal that wouldn’t sound like an excuse or accusation. She decided to concede because Natasha wasn’t entirely wrong. She’s always worried a lot and the anxiety chipped away at any confidence she was able to build for a short amount of time.

Natasha orders for her and promises that she will like it. Without the menu Y/n realizes that she has to actually engage with Natasha and it sinks in that she’s sitting across from her. She has a habit of feeling bold, agreeing to something, and then the consequences of her actions begin to seep in. Natasha on the other hand seems to be completely relaxed — maybe Y/n should have taken up her offer for the wine.

“When do you leave again?”

“This Saturday…just three more days.”

“Wow, do you have anything special planned?”

“Nothing really. I wanted to take Kennedy somewhere, but it’s very last minute. The Art Institute had one of those family events I think she would’ve enjoyed, but it was sold out.”

“I’m sure I can get you a ticket. My friend Steve works in art and can pull some strings to get you a ticket.”

Y/n thought it was funny that Natasha was talking as if they were working on a business deal. “It’s okay Natasha, it’s not that big of a deal. I can find something to get us out of the hotel.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Besides, it might be nice enough to go to the zoo. Kennedy is obsessed with giraffes and would be very happy to see one in person.”

“I know I asked you when we had dinner last week, but I would like to forget that night if I’m being honest,” Natasha hesitates just a second before continuing, “but are you okay with everything? With being the guardian of a kid, I mean. I don’t want to offend you, but never in a million years would I imagine you raising a kid, let alone by yourself.”

“It’s not easy,” Y/n sighs, “but it feels like something I have to do. I owe it to Amy and to Kennedy herself. I’m really, really bad at it, I know, but all I can do is try. It’s just weird because…I never considered being a mother. I feel like I don’t have a maternal bone in my body, but with Kennedy…my maternal instincts kick in so much. It’s weird.”

“I think that makes sense. It’s very easy to see that you care about her a lot and she cares about you. You seem to be letting her be a person with her own feelings and that’s good.”

It was hard to take the compliment because Y/n is very hyper-critical of herself, but she remembers what Natasha says about just relaxing and she decides to accept it.

The mention of last week's dinner does leave Y/n feeling a little awkward though. Something is nagging at her to bring it up, but it also seems pointless to further talk about it when they’re sitting across from each other now and getting along. But, sometimes Y/n struggles to control her impulses.

“I didn’t mean to cause a problem last week. It was nice of you to invite me over, and I was being a little selfish when I thought it was okay to get mad at you and cause an argument.”

“Y/n, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“But, I feel bad! I left feeling like an idiot and embarrassed because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. It was rude and I’m sorry.”

“Y/n-“

“I didn’t mean to disrespect you or anything or make a fool of myself, and I know it looks stupid that I keep bringing up old shit when you have moved on and I should also move on, but I brought it up anyway. I was causing problems on purpose and it was unfair and childish of me. I-“

“Can you just shut up and let me apologize, Y/n?”

Y/n stopped talking, mostly out of surprise and not obedience from Natasha’s demand. She hadn’t realized she was rambling; she wasn’t thinking at all. She looks at Natasha whose eyes have softened with empathy. Y/n could pretend that she had too much pride to let anyone take pity on her, but all she wanted and needed was for someone to feel and understand her.

“I understand why you were upset last week, and I think you’re right to feel that way. I didn’t have the best intentions back then, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to convince you that I wasn’t faking it the entire time. I didn’t expect to actually end up in a relationship with you, and I probably shouldn’t have,” Natasha paused in fear. She was afraid that her words were cutting, but they were the harsh reality. She owes it to Y/n to be honest. “You were young and I was very aware of it. My mistake was thinking that you would’ve been similar to me at that age. Once I was out of my parent’s grasp I ran head first into everything. You weren’t like that, and that’s okay, but my assumptions were wrong. I knew when I was being awful towards you but I didn’t stop. I was wrong Y/n. And, I’m sorry. I know you know that, but you’ve probably wanted to hear me say it for a long time now. You can feel however you want towards me, but you need to move on. I’ll admit that I was shitty, and I’m deeply remorseful about it, but I can’t help you move on.”

It was like wrapping herself in barbed wire to know that Natasha was right. The admission of guilt was appreciated, but not as satisfying as Y/n always expected it to be. She knew that Natasha was wrong and that was always enough. The truth was that she didn’t want to move on. She held onto hope that she would receive a random phone call or facebook message that would be Natasha pouring her heart out saying that what she did to Y/n was her biggest regret in life and that she wants her back. She wanted to feel loved and thought of all of the years later. She wanted her revenge and her apology. Hearing those words “I’m sorry” was more anti-climactic than relieving. Y/n really didn’t need anything from Natasha, she needed something from herself. She needed to trust herself enough.

“I hope I don’t come off as a weirdo…I didn’t want to hold onto something that was done for so long.”

“I don’t think anyone does. I’ve had relationships that took me forever to get over. It’s normal, especially for your first heartbreak. I just don’t want you to have a forever-villain in your life.”

“I know…I know…you’re right about everything too. It’s hard to accept, but I guess that's life.”

“It’s not going to happen overnight, but over time you will realize that you think about it less and less. We don’t have to be the exes that are still friends, but I don’t want to be the exes that can’t move on from each other.”

Their conversation is once again interrupted by the waiter. Y/n wanted the conversation to continue, but it also felt appropriate that it ended where it ended. She’s sure she could talk about this with Natasha for hours and hours, but sometimes it’s best to just let the conversation end.

The dish Natasha picked for Y/n was excellent. It was a savory dish of pasta with the richest sauce she has ever tasted. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to eat like this almost every weekend. Natasha tells her about how she discovered the place, how she came here with her boss and colleagues. Y/n could tell that she wasn’t the best of friends with the people she worked with, but she was more open with them than Y/n is with hers. She’s always heard of people distracting themselves with work and hobbies to forget about heartbreak, and while she tried to do that she never really tried to have a life out of the grief. She didn’t want to minimize what had happened to her best friend by calling herself heartbreak over Natasha grief, but she had mourned a million and one possibilities for years.

“I’m not going to let you talk me out of ordering dessert for us. You haven’t had cheesecake until you’ve had one from here.”

“Can we get it to-go? I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

Natasha nods her head, trying her best to hide her sadness. She didn’t want her time with Y/n to end because she feels like they’ve finally gotten into a good spot. Sure, what they had talked about hadn’t been easy, but it felt like progress had been made for the both of them. Natasha may have not been as stuck on their relationship as Y/n was, but she’s held on for her guilt instead of learning from it.

“Sure.”

Y/n didn’t even try to argue with Natasha about contributing to the bill. She was grateful that Natasha still wanted to be kind to her after all of these years. For a while she wondered if her ex had hated her, but it's been proved again and again that Natasha never hated her.

It had gotten warmer since they first entered the restaurant and the city was in full swing. There were countless places where Natasha could take Y/n next, but she could see that she seemed a bit worn out.

“Where do you want to go now? Do you want to go back to the university?”

“Could we go back to your place for a bit?”

-

Y/n can remember the exact date and time someone else had touched her. It was just a few months before Amy passed away and her friend had somehow convinced her to go out to a club. It was not the most comfortable place for Y/n, but some woman at the bar had offered to buy her a drink and on a whim she accepted it. The woman had told her that her name was Noah and Y/n almost found an excuse to get away from her simply because her name started with an ‘N’. It had been four years since the break-up at that point, yet the wound felt fresh. However, she didn’t turn away from Noah and let herself be guided to the bathroom where she had a hand between her legs two minutes later.

More than the pleasure of someone’s nimble fingers on her clit was the love of the adrenaline rush the situation had given her. It felt so taboo for her even if it wasn’t uncommon for someone to be getting fingered in the bathroom of a club. But, she was a big girl making big girl decisions and this was the sense of freedom and independence she wanted, even if it wasn’t concrete or genuine. That’s what she had missed about her relationship with Natasha. All of these years she missed the feeling Natasha gave her; a feeling that does not exist within a singular person.

Her mind comes back to reality when her leg rests on Natasha's shoulder. She looks down between her legs and feels like she's not looking at the same person who used to place themselves between her legs before. Natasha was much more cautious knowing that this might not be the best decision on their parts, but she wasn’t doing anything to stop it. Y/n held her breath as Natasha neared the warmth between her legs. This felt like a daydream but Natasha’s fingertips gliding against her outer thighs were very much real.

“You okay?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

If she begins to think too hard, she might change her mind, but she wants to feel the pleasure — she’s desperate for it. No one, not even herself, has touched her in such a way that had made her daydream about it for years and years like Natasha. Her legs tremble in excitement as Natasha touches her in innocuous places. She’s still in her panties, but she’s desperate to wiggle out of them.

“You were always impatient,” Natasha jokes as her fingers hook in the band of Y/n’s panties, “I don’t think you realized how needy you always were. Yet you were so embarrassed at the same time.”

Y/n can remember exactly how Natasha made her feel back then. Similar feelings are bubbling up to the surface, but so are unfamiliar feelings. All she knows is that she wants to be touched and adored like she used to be.

Natasha leaves a wet kiss on her lower belly before pulling her panties down her legs. Y/n wiggles out of the cotton garment before Natasha can pull them off herself. The cool air against her clit makes her gasp and arch her back. It’s been years, but all of her little habits are so memorable. There was something erotic in the way Y/n was uncoordinated in bed. Once she was in the throes of passion her body reacted and moved with raw pleasure, without a single care in the world. Natasha may have apologized for having the tendencies of a scumbag, but she still gets off on leaving an impression on someone so innocent.

“You’re so wet.”

Y/n whimpers when Natasha’s fingers slide through her folds to collect the wetness on her flesh. She was so wet she was almost sticky. She felt like a mess but wanted to be cleaned up by Natasha. She parts her legs wider, inviting Natasha in as if the redhead hadn’t made between her legs home already.

Natasha wanted to ask Y/n was sure again, but she could see it in her eyes that she would just tell her to shut up.

The first touch, the first lick, is always a piece of heaven. Y/n can’t stop herself from loudly moaning and throwing her head back. Natasha’s tongue is wet and heavy against her already soaking pussy. Natasha doesn’t tease her waste any time, she licks at Y/n with a sense of urgency like she might disappear any second now.

“N-Natasha,” Y/n’s name sounds like a prayer of worship on her lips. Her fingers thread through her red hair and she gets a good grip on her. Her fingernails graze Natasha’s scalp in stinging pleasures.

Her tongue presses flatly against Y/n’s clit and the sensitive nub pulses against her tongue. The harder she licks, the more Y/n drips in arousal. Y/n realizes just how wet she is when Natasha wraps her lips around her clit and sucks loudly. It was so lewd that Y/n groaned and her eyes rolled into the back of her thighs. Natasha strokes her sensitive thighs which makes Y/n tremble even more.

“F-Feels so good,” Y/n admits without a tinge of shame. She had missed the feeling of a wet tongue sliding against the most sensitive parts of her body. The way Natasha sucks and bathes her with attention pushes her closer to cumming.

The redhead looks up at her from between her legs and watches her intently. Natasha wishes they hadn’t been so hasty, making out against her front door and then moving over to the couch without a thought. The way Y/n’s chest rises and falls makes her want to take that stupid top off of her so she can see her tits. Her hardened nipples push through the fabric of her shirt and bra. As if she could read her mind, Y/n brings her hands up to her chest and gropes herself through the fabric. She notices that the more she touches herself the harder Natasha sucks on her clit. She was being watched, but she kept her eyes closed to avoid making eye contact.

Y/n and Natasha are too lost in each other to even flinch when one of their phones begins to go off. It could be an important work call for Natasha, or for Y/n it could be someone from the university. Both of them decide that they don’t care. Natasha is too busy feasting on Y/n as if she was the most expensive delicacy on Earth. The last, ripe peach on Earth.

It has been years but God did she miss this. She moans every few seconds from Y/n’s distinct taste; so good and so sweet. Her pussy was soft and dripping for her.

“Please don’t stop,” Y/n begs softly. Stopping was never an option for Natasha. She wants to keep Y/n suspended in this pleasure forever.

Natasha’s tongue moves to flicking against Y/n’s opening slit, close to sliding it into her. She licks, sucks, and hums against her pussy in such an animalistic way. Her tongue slides against every inch of her pussy, re-familiarizing herself with the girl she used to know so well. Y/n trusted her enough to spill every feeling she’s ever had and give her body to her even though it was very hard to do so. Natasha isn’t sure there is anything she could do that would show her how forever grateful she is for her,

“Fuck Natasha…I’m gonna cum!” Y/n whines. She finally opens her eyes to see the redhead wildly eating her out. It drives her dangerously closer to the edge.

“Cum…cum all over my face,” she says between licking her.

Y/n completely lets go, a wave washing over her as she does so. There is the obvious feeling of physical release, but also emotional release. Pleasure mixes with relief as her body gets heavier. Natasha is still between her legs but pulled her mouth away so as to not overwhelm her. Seeing how dazed she looks is sexy to her. She gives a quick squeeze to Y/n’s thigh and Y/n opens her eyes to look at her. Natasha’s mouth is glistening with cum, a sight that makes a knot twist in Y/n’s belly.

“I’ve missed how you sounded…moaning my name,” Natasha admits.

Y/n can’t help but smile at her ex-girlfriend’s confession. She decides to make a confession soon.

"I don't like Bucky.”

Natasha is dumbfounded by how unprompted the comment was, but she can’t help but laugh at it. Y/n never liked Bucky.

Natasha lays her head on Y/n’s lower belly, letting herself be lulled by the slow rising and falling.

“He totally set you up last night. He called me and told me you were down there. He means well, most of the time, but he’s a shit starter at heart.”

“Hmm.”

It was no surprise that Bucky had found a way to instigate last night’s situation. There was just no way fate was on her side like she always wanted to believe. But, she is willing to accept that that is okay.

[filmofhybe]

bump into you - Nishimura Riki

SYNOPSIS : where y/n, the new student walks into school but accidentally bumps into one of her senior, Nishimura Riki. Would he help her or ignore her?

pairing : senior niki x fem! oc

Genre : highschool au , fluff

warning : none . word count : 764

I took a deep breathe before getting off the school bus. I was greeted with a refreshing wave of cooling air as I start stepping towards the school campus that’s getting closer and bigger as I walk towards it. I got a few stares here and there as I quietly walk, your just new y/n stop overthinking shit. I was getting a bit nervous since the school is now In front of my face. Well here goes nothing.. I took a step than another and soon I’m exactly at the entrance of the school. I looked around to see if there was a reception near it but it seems like it doesn’t. I guess you just have to find it. I sighed knowing I still haven’t gotten use to the campus and I already have to find my way around.

I turned to the left as I start walking down the corridor hoping this path leads towards the reception. I can hear whispers and I can feel stares from the students as I continue my journey down to the far end. Dang have you guys never seen someone new before..? Im too into my thoughts when I accidentally bump into someone’s boarded back, causing me to stumble back and let out a little “ouch”. As I was rubbing my forehead to gain a bit of realization on what just happens, a deep smoothing voice that caught my attention. “Hey are you alright?” oh my god..y/n who the fuck did you bump into..

I looked up and saw a guy with blonde messy hair, pale skin and of course, our school uniform but without his blazer.

“Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean that to happen.” I was fucking stuttering as I apologized to such a beautiful human being. I was about to leave but I was cut off by his voice again.

“no is alright! Are you looking for something?” Gosh his voice.. it’s like music to my ears- anyway back to his questions.

“yeah uh I’m looking for the reception” this is so embarrassing. Lord please kill me on the spot.

“oh alright follow me!” I was shocked that he offer to take me to the reception, like why would you want go take someone to the reception after they bumped into you… he doesn’t seem like the person to do so anyways.I was walking behind him as I took a look at my surroundings, trying to ignoring the stares that I’m receiving. After a while we arrive at the reception.

“Hi there! How may I help you today?” The receptionist is really cheerful despite the fact is literally 8 in the morning.

“Hi I’m new and I was wondering if I can have my time table.”

“oh of course! What’s your name sweetheart?”

“y/n y/l/n please.”

“alright just give me a few minutes I’ll grab the stuff you would need.” I thanked her as I standing there with the guy that took me here. It’s a bit awkward because non of us were talking. But suddenly he started to speak.

“btw I’m Nishimura Riki. You can call me Niki. I’m a senior.” I turned my head towards him flashing him a soft smile.

“hi I’m y/n y/l/n. I’m a junior.”

“sooo..I guess your new here. Hope the stares and whispers don’t intimidate you. It would usually dies down after tomorrow.”

“i Hope so too..” i started playing with my fingers since I’m getting a bit uncomfortable and impatient. I guess he felt the tension between us so he started to speak again.

“if you need anything I’ll be at room 5A. And also I’m your first friend here. Hope you don’t mind.” He flashed me a smile before extending his hand out for me to shake.

“probably gonna stick with you for the rest of the year but thank you for taking me here.” He giggled at my statement as I shake his soft pale hands that’s larger than mines.

“Well I don’t mind to be honest is nice to hang around someone new sometimes. Also I got to get going cuz I need to get ready for class but meet me here on the first bell. I’ll take you around and introduce you to my friends. See you around lovely.” He said as I gave him a nod before walking away with a smile on his face. My heart skipped a bit from the given nickname… lovely. Ugh no way your already having a crush on a guy you just met.

After a few seconds, the receptionist came back with my timetable as well as a planner. I thanked her as I found my way around the campus to my first period as quickly as possible before the bell rings.

I may look calm on the outside, but I was repeating our interactions In my mind for the rest of the day. Getting more butterflies each time I think about it.

a/n: hope you guys enjoy this, kinda bad but I tried my best😕

[boygiwrites]

Living the Vida Loca  P.2

• Jesse Pinkman & Reader. (Platonic)

(Here’s part one.) (Here’s part three.) (Here’s part four.) (Here’s part five.) (Here’s the epilogue.)

• (Find this story on Ao3.)

Summary — A short story about how a young teenaged girl gets wrapped up in Jesse's life.

Notes — So excited to be posting more of this story! Also, like always, I’ve made some small changes to the way things play out in the show. Enjoy reading!

.

The Beginning of the End.

It's 8PM and you're in the driveway, playing basketball; alone.

The stars are out.

It's warm.

And there's a man.

Oh.

He's just sort of... standing there, watching.

He's a silent shadow against the moonlit strip of sidewalk.

He tells you not to scream.

You drop the ball, and it rolls away into the bushes.

He tells you he needs to know if Jesse Pinkman lives here.

He starts coughing, quietly.

Then Jesse comes powering around the side of the house with a crowbar in his hands, yelling at the shadow to leave; right now, asshole, or else.

Jesse grabs the front of your hoodie, pulls you behind him, and keeps on shit talking.

So help me God, I will beat you down, old man, Jesse puffs himself up real big and lowers his voice. Just say the word.

Methamphetamine, The shadow says, and you swear Jesse flinches. Is that the word, Jesse? Methamphetamine. Nice house. Guess it pays well, hm?

Jesse whirls on him and the crowbar clashes into the metal gate, but the shadow behind it doesn't budge.

Let me in, Jesse.

Then you're all sitting at the garden table, in the dark, like some sort of eerie family gathering.

Teacher-student gathering, even.

Mister White.

Chemistry teacher.

Jesse's chemistry teacher.

Your... chemistry teacher.

He wants to make meth with Jesse.

He says if Jesse talks, he'll turn him into the police, and CPS will take you away.

He says if you talk, he'll turn you into the police.

Jesse shoots you a baffled look.

That's how Jesse finds out you've been selling weed at school.

What the Hell, he asks through his teeth.

Jesse's a drug dealer.

He acts like life is wasted on him, anyway, and if one of you has to do it, it's gotta be him.

Every fucking day he walks out that front door and throws one more piece of his life away on the streets, like breadcrumbs.

You begged him, it's not worth it, Jesse, please.

He never listens.

So if he goes down, so do you. If he's a piece of shit, so are you.

So you started selling weed.

Jesse didn't notice.

But you guess Mister White did.

Not good enough, he always scribbles on your school work. Do better, apply yourself, terrible grammar.

Mister White smiles pleasantly and leaves you to sit with the consequences of his arrival.

I'll be back tomorrow.

He reminds you to do your homework as he leaves.

The night is quiet.

The stars are out.

Jesse's seething silently beside you.

You just got played by an old man.

Get in there, Jesse yells at you, gesturing to your bedroom door. Go to sleep. I don't wanna see your punk-ass face ever again.

For an hour, you hear him outside your window on the porch, smoking and muttering and tapping his foot.

Jesse never yells at you.

Suddenly, for the first time in years, it becomes obvious that Jesse is not your equal.

In the morning, Jesse isn't there.

He doesn't come back for two days.

The Murder.

You're in CostCo with Jesse, trying to find the best type of bucket to melt bodies in.

When he came back this morning, Mister White and RV in tow, it was with two dead bodies and a pound of meth.

You haven't spoke much.

That one's pretty big, you comment awkwardly, pointing at a blue container.

Yeah, he mutters.

It looks like the two of you are browsing the bread aisle, trying to find the best type of grain.

That one's got a lid, though, you say. Could be useful.

Yeah, he mutters.

Selling weed and hiding bodies. You're moving up in the world.

Maybe we need a thicker one, you muse.

Yeah, he mutters.

You pull a hefty tub off the shelf and sit in it like it's a play pretend race car.

You smile up at Jesse. Look, you giggle, They can play bumper cars in the afterlife.

He's looking at you funny.

The only thing you end up buying is hydrofluoric acid and two snickers bars.

The car ride home is silent.

You eat the snickers while your chemistry teacher loads a gun in your kitchen.

You've just finished wiping Emilio off the floor.

Thanks for telling Jesse about the weed, you sass him.

He asks what the deal between you two is, anyway.

You tell him it's none of his business, but Jesse's your kind-of-dad.

More like my brother, you think out loud, 'cause he lets me eat ice cream and I don't have a bed time.

He tells you you're the strangest pair he's ever met.

When you ask him if he's gonna kill that guy in the basement, he fumbles one of the gold bullets.

He says, yes, he's going to kill him.

You consider this.

Don't miss, you settle on. I'm sick of mopping.

You find him smiling a little.

Jesse would not be smiling.

You find yourself smiling, too.

You share the snickers and later that night, he shoots the man in your basement.

He does not miss.

What's Changed.

Nowadays, everything has changed.

Two weeks ago, you'd never spoken to your chem teacher. Now you talk every day.

You'd never seen the inside of a dead body, which you know now, actually smells like pennies.

And you were on good terms with your sort-of-dad-brother, Jesse, who doesn't really talk to you anymore.

In the mornings, instead of being there to pack you cheese-itz for lunch and help you find your missing socks, he's off somewhere, throwing his life away, and going on strangely long walks, and randomly deciding to clean the windows even though they're not dirty.

In the evenings, he makes dinner and then fucks off again. You eat hot ramen in the empty dining room and watch the clock tick.

At night, he smokes on the porch, mutters, and taps his foot.

You go through a list in your head.

Is it because of the weed?

Is it because of the meth?

Is it because of the bumper car joke?

Is it because he hates me?

But then he'll drop by your room to kiss your hair, and it's just enough to hold you over to the next day.

Rinse and repeat.

Rinse and repeat.

Rinse;

And repeat.

Mister White's real name is Walter.

You know lots of things about him, now.

You know he wears ugly beige clothes outside of school, and that he hates crunchy peanut butter because of his bad tooth.

You know he gets a double loaded burger, extra pickles, from Los Pollos Hermanos.

He hates when Jesse cracks his knuckles, which is very often, recently.

He likes to call you an imbecile when you try come in the RV while they're cooking. The fumes, he squawks, The fumes, you imbecile.

He fucking hates the noise of the basketball punching into the driveway while he's trying to concentrate.

His wife is called Skyler, and she's pregnant, which makes him anxious.

He grumbles and whines and complains, but in the end, he'll always help fix your jacket zipper when it jams, and lend you the little travel tissues he keeps in his pants pocket when you get little scrapes on your knees.

At school, he's become a total homework Nazi.

You think that Jesse told him to lay it on thick.

You're still selling weed.

That's about the only thing that's stayed the same.

You spend the money on gum, videogames, and polaroids for your camera.

One night when Jesse finds your stash of crumpled money, he burns it all on the grill and you slap his face.

See?

Everything's changed.

You get nightmares, now.

You have a bedtime, and a curfew.

You're not allowed to ask about Jesse's day.

He makes you empty your pockets every time you come home.

He searches your laundry for baggies of weed.

He hates you.

It's Hell.

At least Walter's still a bastard.

That never changed.

Then top spot for world's biggest dummy is challenged, by one Saul Goodman.

.

End Notes — Let me know what you think! Also, I feel the need to explain myself for using the word Nazi. I don't use that word in real life because it makes me uncomfortable to say so casually, but for the sake of this story's tone, I used it. Sort of crude, I know, but what is Breaking Bad if not offensive amounts of crude? Thanks for reading.

[babygirlfahey]

50 wesper

50: I need you to forgive me

It’s the middle of the night when Jesper gets home. He’s shaking. The place he ended up at kicked him out an hour ago and he’d wandered the streets of the Barrel like they were new, unfamiliar, like he had never seen them before. Once, that place had been home to him. Now it was just another reminder of his mistakes.

He’s broken, he knows this, some part of him is missing. Something he will never get back. He still hears the sound of the Makker’s wheel spinning when he’s trying to fall asleep. 

Selfishly, he hopes to find Wylan asleep, unaware of how late Jesper stayed out, unaware that he came home bruised and broke, as he often did when he still lived in the Barrel. He’d just hit a hundred days without gambling. He counted every single one. Maybe it was that number that scared him. Maybe when Wylan told him he was proud of him, Jesper had wanted to crush that feeling now so it wouldn’t hurt more later. Or maybe he just wanted to gamble. He can come up with an endless list of reasons for why he’d done it, none of them matter. He wanted to gamble so he did. Simple as that. 

Wylan’s in the kitchen. Jesper’s heartbeat picks up when he sees him. He almost expects Wylan to look different, but he doesn’t. He’s wearing the same clothes he was wearing when Jesper left. For a moment, he just stands in the doorway. He wants to cross the kitchen and crumble into Wylan’s arms, beg him to talk about this tomorrow, just so he can have one more night before Wylan kicks him out for being a fuck up. He doesn’t deserve that, though, he knows this. 

“I’m sorry,” he says but it comes out garbled, different, like he hasn’t spoken in days, so he clears his throat, tries again. “I’m really sorry, Wylan.”

“I was worried,” Wylan tells him. He sounds tired and almost calculated, like he’s picking his words very carefully. Jesper wants to look at him and can’t bear to. 

“I know,” it’s a stupid thing to say. Jesper’s never been the smart one. What will he do when Wylan no longer wants him? Will he go back to Novyi Zem or the Barrel? Will it matter?

“Do you need anything?” Wylan asks and Jesper startles, turns to frown at him in confusion. “Like a medik,” he explains, motioning to Jesper’s face. The bruises must be obvious, then. Jesper didn’t have the courage to look at his reflection after. He shakes his head. He wants it to hurt. He needs a reminder. 

“I need you to forgive me,” he tries, instead. Too quiet. Maybe he’s hoping Wylan doesn’t hear him. Maybe he wants to pretend he’s above begging. “Or at least give me until morning.”

“What?” 

“If you’re going to kick me out, please don’t do it tonight,” he says. He’d go back. He knows this. He’d sell the clothes on his body and anything else he could find. 

Wylan crosses the room to him. For a second, Jesper imagines Wylan pushing past him, telling him to pack his things and leave. Instead, Wylan’s hand finds his. 

“I’m not going to kick you out,” he says. Soft. Softer than he should be. Jesper blinks and then blinks again. Swallows. In front of him, Wylan stills, patient, waits for his words to settle. 

“Why not?”

There’s a long moment of silence and then Wylan tightens his grip on Jesper’s hand and pulls him towards a chair in their kitchen. 

“Saints,” he mumbles as he directs Jesper to sit down. “Do you really think I’d kick you out after one mistake?”

“I’m a fuck up. The mistakes will keep coming”

“You’re an addict,” Wylan corrects, firm. “And we’ll deal with them when they do.”

“But-”

“No buts, Jes,” he interrupts. “I’m going to make you tea and we’ll go to bed, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, but when Wylan goes to move away, Jesper doesn’t let go of his hand. “Just another moment,” he whispers. Wylan nods. Without thinking, Jesper leans forward against him, rests his forehead against Wylan’s chest. “I know we need to talk about it.”

“We do,” Wylan agrees, his other hand coming up to rest on the back of Jesper’s neck. “But we can do it tomorrow.”

[theharrowing]

Dollhouse 24 💛: Are you here alone?

Hoseok's job is simple: He enters the host's body, he confiscates or terminates the target, and he gets back into his own body by dinnertime, easy peasy. Until a client comes along who becomes as obsessed with his life as he becomes with theirs, and the lines between their realities begin to blur.

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💛 Hoseok x Namjoon, Jungkook x Yoongi 💛 word count: 15.1k words 💛 hired assassin au, sci-fi, body swapping, graphic violence, infidelity, body dysphoria, lgbtq, smut, fluff, angst, poly, nsfw, smut, 21+ 💛 chapter warnings: rough oral & anal sex, slapping, spitting, use of safe word, humiliation, use of the word "whore", cum on face, paranoid feelings, Hoseok making more terrible fucking choices. Hoseok spirals.

💛 notes: wow, uhhhh...idk how i ended up writing a chapter this long, but here we gooooo!!! we're so close to the end, ahhhh!!!! 💛 beta read by @neoneunnajimin 💛 posted april 2023 | read on ao3

The Boss: Hoseok-ssi. I know you have already left for the day, but a file has come across my desk that I would like you to have a look at. It is from a possible client in New Zealand, and you are the only one I trust to take on someone this high profile, but it will require jumping. I will need a response in the morning, so mull over whether you think you are up for it.

Hoseok does not hesitate to agree to the position without giving it much thought at all. A job in New Zealand could not have come at a better time. 

Hoseok: Count me in. I'm ready to jump again.  

The Boss: Wonderful. We will discuss more tomorrow.

Ordinarily, their dynamic is that Namjoon likes to bottom and Hoseok likes to top. A surprise to neither of them, really; Hoseok has always been a bit of a control freak, and Namjoon takes care of people so much professionally that he really enjoys being taken care of at home. Tonight, however, Hoseok is going to beg to be fucked. 

He gets home first, sends a text to Namjoon—

Hoseok: Hey baby, I need to discuss something very important with you, please come home as soon as possible.

—and preps himself in the shower. As soon as his phone dings, Hoseok reaches past the shower curtain, dries a hand on one of the nearby hanging towels, and clicks on the screen to find a notification waiting for him. 

Namjoon: On my way! 

Hoseok rinses himself, gets out of the shower, towels off, and then goes into the bedroom. First, he glances around and tries to decide on something to wear. He has his share of sexy lingerie, but he is unsure whether he is in a sexy lingerie mood. So, he sits on the edge of the bed nude and waits, thumbing through his phone for something to distract him. Typically, it takes Namjoon about fifteen minutes to get home from work, but sometimes he leaves in a rush and messages while already on his way, so Hoseok has no idea what to expect. 

He does his best not to let his mind wander, but lately, it feels like an impossible task. The files that Seokjin sent Hoseok seem to be pointing to a very obvious fact, and Hoseok needs to do more digging in order to potentially corroborate the information. But he is also trying to keep his wits about him and not get too swept up in the excitement of everything. 

But what if, Hoseok wonders. What if Taehyung and Jimin really are—

The sound of Namjoon pulling into the driveway rips Hoseok from his thoughts, and he blinks heavily, looking down at his phone, the screen of which has shut off in his hands. He sets the device down onto the bedside table, and as the front door flies open, followed by the sounds of shoes thudding against the wall and the front door being thrown shut, Hoseok stands, walks into the center of the room, and gets down on his knees. 

"Seok?" Namjoon calls, voice sounding somewhat frantic.

Hoseok has to bite back a grin, feeling affection bloom around his ribs. 

"Up here, baby!"

Namjoon barrels up the stairs, feet stomping hard enough that he must be taking two at a time with his palm rubbing against the railing—a cacophony of sound Hoseok has become all too familiar with over the years. And although the bedroom door is already partially ajar, Namjoon pushes it roughly, slamming it into the door stop on the wall while he glances around, disheveled and worried. 

As soon as his eyes land on Hoseok, Namjoon stops in his tracks, nearly tripping on his feet. Hoseok has to bite down onto the inside of his bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

"Seok," Namjoon gasps, out of breath with a look of shock on his face. 

Hoseok smiles softly, resting his palms over his knees while he stares up at his husband, watching as his brain buffers. If the roles were reversed, Hoseok would already be loosening his tie and telling Namjoon what a good little toy he is. But Namjoon always requires a little nudge.

"What," Namjoon tries again, glancing around at the bedroom, which looks just as it did when he left in the morning, as if there may be more clues to explain why his husband is nude and waiting in a submissive position. "I thought—you said—"

"Baby," Hoseok interrupts sweetly. "I do have something urgent that I would like to discuss with you. But first..." Hoseok raises an eyebrow and tips his head back delicately while letting his lips softly part—a flower opening to the sunlight.

"But first...?" Namjoon asks, walking into the bedroom with his arms hanging stiffly at his sides. 

"I need you to fuck me," Hoseok says, reveling in the way Namjoon's eyes widen. "Please."

"Ah," Namjoon responds, hands rising to his grey shirt to begin working his buttons open. "Uh—of course. Yeah, of course. I can do that."

"Yeah?" Hoseok asks sweetly, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Namjoon shrugs quickly out of his shirt, throwing it to the floor despite being only a few feet from the closet hamper. He tears his white tee over his head, fumbles to undo his belt, and shoves his slacks to the floor, leaving a trail of garments in his wake as he walks to Hoseok in his black socks and grey briefs. 

"Yeah," Namjoon sighs, appearing somewhat dazed with his dark hair messy around his face.

"Did I worry you, baby?" Hoseok teases, blinking his eyelashes dramatically.

Namjoon's face becomes a little more stern; finally, he seems to be getting into character. 

"You did."

Hoseok pushes his bottom lip out in a pout and whines, "I guess you should punish me," which is the final push Namjoon seems to need to get into the mindset, gaze sharpening while he rolls his shoulders back and towers tall over him.

"What's the goal, baby?" Namjoon asks as he reaches a hand out and cards it through Hoseok's damp hair.

"Make me forget," Hoseok responds, voice shaking ever so slightly through his words. "Want to just...cease to exist for a little while."

The hand in Hoseok's hair grips tightly and pulls straight up, elongating his back, and he attempts to alleviate the pain by following the pull until all he can do is whimper and take it. With his other hand, Namjoon gently grasps Hoseok by the jaw and squeezes, pressing his lips together, searching his face as if deciding what to do with him. Then Namjoon releases his jaw and slaps him across the cheek, hard and loud, and Hoseok gasps a deep, sharp intake of air, too shocked to make a sound. 

"Color?" Namjoon asks softly.

"Green," Hoseok pants, feeling alive as the pain settles and spreads warm across his skin. 

Namjoon's fist tightens around Hoseok's hair, and he slaps Hoseok on the same cheek, then pulls his hand back and backhands his other cheek in a swift, surprising motion, making Hoseok sob through the sting. 

"Fuck," Hoseok gasps.

"Color?"

"Yellow."

Softly, Namjoon pets the backs of his fingers over Hoseok's cheeks. Hoseok's eyelids flutter shut, and he lets out a deep, pleased exhale. But Namjoon yanks on his hair, forcing Hoseok's eyes open.

"Eyes on me!" he commands, and Hoseok shouts, "Yes, sir!" instinctively. 

"Sir?" Namjoon asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Not daddy?"

Hoseok shakes his head in small, quick movements. Not daddy. Daddy reminds him...makes him think of...

"Hmm," Namjoon groans with a devious grin. "I think I want you to call me daddy, though."

"Joon," Hoseok pleads, whimpering when his hair is pulled roughly. "Baby—sir, please!"

Namjoon crouches before Hoseok, still somewhat taller, but nearly eye-level, and he cocks his head to the side, holding tightly to his hair. 

"You don't want to be reminded of him, do you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft, almost sympathetic. 

Somehow, Hoseok feels the overwhelming urge to cry. 

"No," he mutters pathetically. "No, I don't want to be reminded of him."

After a pause, Namjoon says, "You will call me daddy," while taking Hoseok's jaw in his hand once more, squeezing just enough for it to ache. "By the time I'm done with you, that word will only remind you of me. Are we clear?"

"Yes—" Hoseok whimpers, voice caught in his throat as tears rise to his eyes. 

Namjoon squeezes tighter, and Hoseok knows it is a signal to finish his sentence.

"D-daddy," he says, choked by the vines that squeeze and squeeze. "Yes, daddy."

"Good boy," Namjoon growls as he stands. 

Namjoon steps forward, crowding Hoseok's space with his cheek gently pressed against his soft cock. The delicate musk of Namjoon's sweat and sweet scent of fabric softener has Hoseok's mouth watering, and he lifts his hands, eager to pull the briefs away. 

"Keep your hands on your knees," Namjoon instructs as he yanks Hoseok's face forward, crashing his nose and lips into his bulge. 

Hoseok huffs warmth through the fabric and allows his lips to drag, hypnotized by the familiar feeling of his husband's semi-erect yet heavy dick as it slowly hardens against him. He takes a deep inhale, desperate for his senses to be filled only with the scents of Namjoon and home. 

"Do you deserve my cock?" Namjoon asks teasingly, grinding Hoseok's face into him.

"No," Hoseok whimpers pathetically. 

"That's right," Namjoon responds, using his thumb to tug down on the waistband of his briefs until Hoseok's nose is buried in dark, rough hair. "You don't deserve my cock. You're lucky I don't force you to watch me fuck someone else."

Shame fills Hoseok's chest, weighing heavily. He knows it is true; he agrees.

"I bet my coworker Hoseok would break me in half. He's so strong. I bet he would fuck me so good." 

Hoseok's heart pounds; it aches. Namjoon's coworker Lee Hoseok is an absolute beefcake of a man, and he has seen the shy way he looks at his husband. They have even joked in the past about Namjoon leaving him for his coworker of the same name, but this time, it does not feel like a joke. This time, it stings.

"How would that make you feel?” Namjoon continues. “Me calling your name for another man?"

A sob shakes through Hoseok's chest, and before he can stop himself, tears begin to fall from both eyes; sadness and maybe a sense of relief. 

"Namjoon, please," Hoseok groans, burying his face against his husband's crotch while his nails dig into the skin of his knees.

"What about Soyoon?" Namjoon asks, voice still just as deep and laced with playful hints that swirl with anger. "Wouldn't she look so pretty sprawled out on the blue comforter, squeezing her thighs around my head?"

"Baby—" Hoseok whimpers. He does not want to think about Namjoon's shy, mysteriously gorgeous coworker like that. 

"That's not what you call me," Namjoon responds curtly with a squeeze to Hoseok's hair. 

Sadness wells over—bursts like a dam as Hoseok shouts, "Daddy!"

"Beg me," Namjoon commands, shoving his briefs down lower with one hand. 

"Please, daddy. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me apologize."

"Make it up to me?" Namjoon scoffs, making the vines squeeze Hoseok's sorry little heart. "How could you possibly do that?"

"Please," Hoseok sobs, tears pouring down his cheeks. All he wants is to suck Namjoon's cock and make him feel good. He just wants to be used and hurt until he can no longer comprehend the world around him. 

Namjoon's briefs slide past his thighs and hit the floor, and Hoseok looks up through his eyelashes pleadingly. From here, Namjoon may as well be a god towering over him; massive, omnipotent, and unforgiving. 

"Open," Namjoon instructs.

Hoseok tilts his head back and lets his mouth fall open, tongue rolled out flat. With two fingers, Namjoon presses onto his tongue, slowly sliding back into Hoseok's throat and out, back and forth. The urge to gag makes tears continue to stream from Hoseok's eyes, and saliva begins to pool under and along the edge of his tongue. 

"Gonna use this pretty mouth," Namjoon groans as he leans forward, pulls his fingertips to the end of Hoseok's tongue, and spits.

Hoseok gasps, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as the spit settles on his tongue. Humiliation is not something Namjoon usually enjoys; he must be really angry. 

Namjoon stands tall once more—a looming presence—and Hoseok pleads with his eyes, eager for Namjoon to let out some of his wrath. He just wants things to be back to normal between the two of them, despite knowing it will probably never be the way it was before. If hurting him is a way to achieve that goal, then Hoseok wants to hurt. He needs to. 

Namjoon's cock hangs heavy and leaking, and Hoseok tilts his chin toward it, flicking his tongue until it hits velvety skin. Another rough tug on Hoseok's hair makes him sob; he has gotten used to the steady pull, but the skin has also settled into a state of soreness that is easily exacerbated. 

"What an eager little whore," Namjoon teases, lightly smacking his fingertips over Hoseok's tongue, filling him with the urge to cough. "Alright, if you're that desperate, suck my cock."

"Thank you, daddy," Hoseok mutters softly as Namjoon's grip on his hair loosens. He licks up Namjoon's shaft as best as he can.

Without his hands, however, Hoseok cannot quite reach the tip. With a frustrated huff, Hoseok attempts to sit higher on his knees, but he is just barely out of reach. 

Namjoon laughs, filling Hoseok head to toe with shame, and he takes his cock in one hand and smacks it against Hoseok's eager tongue before letting it go to hit his stomach.

"Daddy," Hoseok whines with his tongue half hanging from his mouth.

"What's the matter, little whore? Do you need me to help you with everything?"

Namjoon's words begin to cut so deep, causing the vines to squeeze so hard, Hoseok swallows twice to rid his throat of the lump that continues to gather. The urge to cry grows stronger.

With an exaggerated sigh, Namjoon tilts his hips, takes the base of his shaft in his hand, and flicks it down, hitting Hoseok on the lips. Hoseok whimpers as his mouth falls open, and he attempts to wrap his lips around the tip, but Namjoon keeps moving it—keeps fucking with him.

"Christ, Namjoon," Hoseok snaps, and Namjoon's grip on his hair tightens, making him wince. 

"What's the matter, Seok?" Namjoon growls, standing tall with his eyes squinted and something dark burning behind them. "Don't like being toyed around with, hmm?"

Tears threaten to break, and Hoseok blinks rapidly to chase the feeling away. 

"No," he mutters pathetically, feeling his body fall limp and causing his hair to tug more. 

Namjoon yanks Hoseok back to his knees—back to sitting up just as high as before—and Hoseok whimpers from the feeling, but allows his mouth to fall open. He wants Namjoon to use him, despite the myriad emotions this scene is conjuring inside him. He needs Namjoon to let his feelings out. 

"Open," Namjoon instructs, and Hoseok sighs as his tongue lolls flat from his mouth.

The tight grip on Hoseok's hair becomes a dull sensation once more, and as Namjoon slides his cock roughly into his throat, Hoseok breathes through the urge to gag, feeling tears along his eye line begin to break. Hoseok closes his lips and sucks, doing his best to swallow back in time with Namjoon's thrusts and make it feel good for him. 

Namjoon groans and places his hand under Hoseok's chin, making the squeeze in his throat tighter. Hoseok feels as if his head is caught in some sort of loose vice grip—like if he attempts to rest on his knees, Namjoon will continue to roughly hold him suspended in the air. 

The sounds Hoseok's throat begin to make as Namjoon thrusts deeper and harder are low and guttural, bordering gags and moans, sending a chill through him. The thick saliva that gathers is even worse. 

Hoseok nearly fears for his ability to breathe as Namjoon's cock drives further, but he feels powerless to do anything to stop the deep, hurried thrusts, and his eyes roll back as he makes attempts to suck air in through his nose. His body starts to go limp and his ears begin to ring. 

When Namjoon pulls out entirely, Hoseok gasps a horrendous involuntary sound, and he crashes to the floor, realizing a second too late that Namjoon has let his hold on him go.

"Seok," Namjoon says, but he does not sound concerned. He sounds annoyed. Inconvenienced. 

Hoseok blinks heavily, hot tears stream down his face, and he swallows hard to push back all the thick, phlegmy spit. As he stares down at his hands, seeing the way his fingernails cut into his skin, he barely recognizes himself. He seems paler. Weaker. 

Namjoon sighs.

"I don't fucking get you," he says. "You call me here like it's some kind of emergency, then completely dissociate."

Hoseok is almost certain that this is not what dissociating is, but he is not in his right mind to argue. And, anyway, what would be the point? His voice cracks, and the first part of his sentence gets stuck somewhere unvoiced, as he mutters, "—being too rough."

"Alright, sorry," Namjoon says as his weight shifts from one leg to the other. He does not sound sorry.

Hoseok hums, looks up, and holds his mouth open, shuttering as he takes in Namjoon's distant, angry glare. 

"I can do it," he mutters, "let's keep going."

Without a word, Namjoon takes Hoseok by the face in one hand and slides his cock back into his mouth. Hoseok is somewhat surprised; he expected the tears and overall distress to stop Namjoon. He expected to have to beg. 

"Feels good," Namjoon groans as the tip of his cock hits the back of Hoseok's throat, but not hard enough to make him lurch. "Fuck, baby, your mouth always feels so good."

Hoseok's eyelids flutter closed, and he moans as he swallows back, gently gripping his fingertips into nail-dug skin as he does his best to breathe through each languid thrust. 

Sucking Namjoon's cock is always a treat. The heavy weight of him, girth stretching his lips just slightly too much, the salty-sweet taste of his heady precome. Namjoon is heaven.

As Hoseok relaxes further into the feeling of his husband using his mouth, his tears fall less frequently, and his hands fully relax over his knees. He can forgive Namjoon for his outburst; he knows he deserves it. In fact, he deserves far worse. 

"Swallow around me," Namjoon commands softly, rubbing his thumb along the edge of Hoseok's mouth, smearing spit on his skin. Hoseok does as he is told, earning him a deep, pleased groan.

"That's it, fuck, so good. Gonna come soon, baby. Not gonna last long."

There is a voice in Hoseok's head that tells him that Namjoon not lasting too long is a good sign. Namjoon must not have already come today—always having more stamina the second time—and therefore, he must not be cheating on him. After all, Hoseok has expected his long evenings at work and out with coworkers to result in cheating. It is what he feels Namjoon owes him after everything he has put him through, but the thought of his big, dumb cutie being unfaithful does make him sad. 

Of course, Namjoon could still be cheating; Hoseok did call him to come right home today, after all. Hoseok chooses not to dwell on it.

Instead, Hoseok sucks eagerly, even rolls his tongue when he can, anxious to make his husband come. Namjoon groans and gasps, sounds becoming louder and more desperate, hips picking up speed. With both hands, Namjoon grips Hoseok by the sides of his face and begins to trust a little harder. 

Air and spit sputter out from the sides of Hoseok's mouth, and he does his best to sit pretty and let Namjoon use him as he needs. He can feel his face warm as the lack of sufficient oxygen makes it harder and harder for him to breathe, and his fingertips once again dig into his knees. 

Luckily, Namjoon chases his high quickly. With two more powerful thrusts, Namjoon presses in far enough to make white burst in Hoseok's vision at the loss of oxygen before he pulls out completely and comes on Hoseok's face. Hoseok heaves for air, doing his best not to cough, eager to stay as still as he can as Namjoon paints his face. 

Once he has caught his breath, Hoseok holds out his tongue to catch the last of the release, then attempts to lick as much of it from around his mouth as he can. Come drips down his cheeks and slides down the slope of his nose, and Namjoon stands, cock fisted overhead a little longer before he steps away, toward the bathroom. 

"Felt good," Namjoon calls just before turning on the faucet. 

Hoseok lets out a sigh of relief. His heart and lungs ache, feeling tightly wound with emotion. He would love to curl up and fall asleep, but—despite everything he is feeling—he still wants to get held down and fucked. He wants it so badly, his entire body vibrates for it—every nerve needs it. 

Viscous, watery fluid leaks down Hoseok’s chin, mingling with the drool that has pooled, then drops down to his chest. Namjoon must be really well-hydrated; his release is more watery than sticky today. 

Namjoon returns with a small grey washcloth that looks darkened by water, and he slowly approaches, smiling down at Hoseok as he surveys the mess he has made. Then he squats, still sitting taller than Hoseok by several inches, gazing down at him with a smirk. 

“So pretty covered in my come,” Namjoon mutters. “All mine.”

“Yours,” Hoseok rasps, throat feeling sore. 

Namjoon gently rubs the cold, damp rag over Hoseok’s face, taking extra care to wipe his chin, neck, and chest, covering his body in goosebumps as the cool sensation shivers through him. All the while, Hoseok’s palms stay rested on his knees. 

All yours, Hoseok thinks. If only he could believe in the conviction of the words. 

When Hoseok arrives at his office at 8 AM on the dot, The Boss is standing beside his door with her arms folded over her chest, gripping onto a manila folder. She wears thick, dark sunglasses despite being indoors, adorned in one of her long, black dresses that covers her from neck to wrist to ankle—a dress fit for a funeral. Hoseok wonders if it will be his own life that she will be mourning as he reaches a hand out to take the document. 

"New Zealand?" Hoseok asks, realizing with a pang of anxiety that he forgot to mention this job to Namjoon last night, too distracted by getting fucked within an inch of his life.

The Boss hums. "We need to bring the man back to Korea to carry out the assassination order, so your primary duty is to jump and lead him to us."

"Of course," Hoseok says as he punches in the code to his office door and pushes it open with his palm.

"And I assume you got rid of Kim Seokjin?" The Boss asks, stopping Hoseok in his tracks. 

Hoseok clears his throat and mutters, "Yeah," then turns to face The Boss. "I asked him to provide substantial evidence for his claims, and he has not gotten in touch since. Perhaps he knew what we would find in his background check and decided not to pursue it further."

"That is a relief," The Boss states. "We have found…something…but we are working on substantiating it, first."

"Found something?" Hoseok asks, knitting his brows. "What?"

"I—" The Boss begins, then she cocks her head to the side, and Hoseok can see her mulling her words over. "Let's hold off on this conversation until the results come back."

Ordinarily, Hoseok would argue. It is a big pet peeve of his when someone begins to share information only to rescind it. But today, he has no fight in him, and he nods his head and mutters, "Fine."

"Everything alright at home?" The Boss asks. 

Hoseok knows this tone, and he cracks an unconvincing smile and says, "For the most part." 

Namjoon is a liability are the words Hoseok recalls, spoken by The Boss more times than he would like to admit. He knows she does not care how things at home are. He knows that she feels he would be better at his job if he was not married at all. Surely, bringing Namjoon onto the team has not changed that. 

"That's good," The Boss responds flatly before she turns around and leaves. 

With a glare, Hoseok watches after her, then he walks to his desk and throws himself into the uncomfortable chair that sits before it, wincing from the soreness of his ass—a reminder of the night before. As he lifts the file and allows it to fall open, he sees an image of an older man who appears to be Korean, dressed in a suit. There is nothing about the man that stands out in any way, and Hoseok reads through the file quickly. The mission is to jump into the man's advisor's body—against the advisor's will—and hand the two of them over to a team that will escort them back to Korea. Easy enough. 

Hoseok sighs and tosses the folder onto his desk, letting the papers fly from it and fall over the opposite edge, landing on his leather chair, and possibly on the floor. New Zealand is still a bit of a trek to Australia, but it is closer than he is now. Hoseok looked up flights last night, right after Namjoon fell asleep. 

The information Seokjin gave him seems pretty clear. Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung popped up on Seokjin's radar the day The Boss claimed Yoongi and Jeongguk went missing. The crimes that Park and Kim are allegedly running from seem to have all been fabricated in order to get Hoseok's attention. But why? Why is Seokjin unable to come right out and tell Hoseok point blank that these bodies may be hosting the consciousnesses of the men he is searching for, if that is, in fact, what Seokjin is trying to say? What does Seokjin have to lose? What could his connection to them be?

The phone on Hoseok's desk rings. He lets out a heavy sigh as he stands from the chair, rounds his desk, and picks up the receiver, staring down at the paperwork that is scattered on his office chair and the floor. 

"This is Jung," Hoseok says, making a failed attempt to not sound absolutely dead inside. 

"Hoseok-ssi," The Boss says, and Hoseok hums in response, "the target has just made a reservation at the Sofitel in Wellington, and appears to be checking out one week from today. In the event that he moves, I want to try to get to him first. What are the odds of getting you on a flight in the morning?"

Tomorrow morning is way too soon. Hoseok will hardly have a chance to explain to Namjoon what is going on, and what if his pivot to Australia winds up taking him a while? How long will he be away from his husband on such short notice?

"Tomorrow morning is fine," Hoseok responds, nibbling on his bottom lip. 

"Perfect." The Boss responds, sounding pleased as she hangs up.

With a sigh, Hoseok hangs up the phone, then he slowly gets down on his knees to pick up the spilled paperwork and shove it back into the file folder. He considers what he is going to tell Namjoon, then he stands, grabs the papers from his chair, and places it all on top of his desk in a pile before picking up his office phone once more and dialing Namjoon's extension at work. 

It takes four rings before Namjoon picks up, and Hoseok is grateful that he is around rather than helping a patient. Namjoon's voice almost sounds foreign to Hoseok, with how chipper it is when he says, "This is Kim's office."

"Joon," Hoseok blurts, feeling a heavy wave of sadness settle over him from how unusual Namjoon's happy tone sounds, "hey, sorry for calling you at work."

"Oh," Namjoon responds, voice dropping, sounding concerned, "Seok, baby, is everything alright?"

Suddenly, Hoseok feels the weight of leaving the country pressing heavily on his shoulders and tears well into his eyes. He swallows a lump and breathes through the tight, tight squeeze as the vines snake through each rib. 

"Uh—I, uh…Yeah. Kind of."

"Can we talk about this in person, tonight?"

"It's The Boss. She wants to send me to New Zealand."

"Oh."

"Tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Hoseok rubs a hand over his cheek and closes his eyes, letting out a huff of air. Moments ago, he was somewhat content with everything, and now he feels stricken by regret. 

Namjoon sighs, and Hoseok braces himself, expecting the worst. Not that things could get much worse. 

"Well, I was going to take a trip home to visit my family in a few weeks, but maybe I'll push it up and leave this weekend."

"Oh?" 

Hoseok finds this news surprising; he had no idea Namjoon had been planning another trip home. Not that Ilsan is far at all, but typically, Hoseok travels with his husband. 

"Yeah. I just think I need a breather after everything that has happened, you know?"

Another breather. Only a few months ago, Namjoon went to Ilsan for a breather, and now he feels the need to go again?

"Alright," Hoseok responds, failing to sound positive. "That works out well, then."

A voice calls to Namjoon, and Hoseok's heart pounds heavily as Namjoon chuckles and says, away from the phone, "Sounds great, Yoon; be right there!" and then returns to Hoseok to say, "Lunch is here, so I am going to let you go. See you at home?"

Lunch with Soyoon. Soyoon brought Namjoon lunch. Hoseok does his best not to spiral.

"Alright. See ya," Hoseok mutters before hanging up and throwing himself down into his office chair. 

He wonders how things could get any more fucking cumbersome.

[Unknown]: Hoseok-ssi, this is KSJ. I have information on your boys. They have a reservation at the Park Hyatt in Sydney, with a checkout date of a next week Saturday. I hear the botanical garden is lovely this time of year.

Hoseok: When do they check in?

Hoseok watches as his message is never delivered. So communication with Seokjin is a one-way street. He supposes he can handle that. Briefly, his thumbs twitch as he considers calling the line he already had for the man, but if Seokjin is going out of his way to communicate through unknown numbers, Hoseok already knows he will not be reached on his main line.

Sydney is much closer to New Zealand than Perth, and Hoseok cannot help but wonder if this is no coincidence. But it has to be, right? There is no way Seokjin has managed to orchestrate another hit just to get him close to Australia. That seems ridiculous. Considering Seokjin never pressed Hoseok about the alleged and suspected charges, Hoseok wonders if he was never going to formally pursue a hit on the two men at all, but he just wanted Hoseok to pay attention to Park and Kim. 

It certainly does not seem impossible. Seokjin does not work for a government agency, but there is something about him…something that The Boss suspects. But what? Hoseok does find it quite interesting that both his target and his persons of interest seem to be making moves at the same time, and that hotel reservations are the specific pieces of information being fed to him by both his boss and Seokjin. Does Seokjin have some way of monitoring his correspondences? He is beginning to think like a conspiracy theorist.

Ever since Seokjin's visit, Hoseok has been spending less and less time watching the CCTV feeds. He no longer believes Yoongi and Jeongguk are likely to be in Japan. He knows it is foolish to think the two men in Australia could be them, but…what if? How else could they have disappeared without a trace?

By the time 6 PM rolls around, Hoseok shuts his monitor off, shoves his paperwork into his desk, and stands up, glancing around the office. Light dapples in through tall black and silver curtains, covering the room in a dreamy glow. 

Hoseok does not wish to ever return to this office. The more he takes in his surroundings, thinking about all the lives he has taken, and those he has lost, he feels a deep contempt and hatred, compounded by a sense of longing that almost settles into his bones like nostalgia.

He wonders if he would be better off never knowing Yoongi and Jeongguk. If he could turn back time, pursue a different line of work, and never cross their paths, he and Namjoon would not be so strained, and he would not be so set on disappearing completely. He is relieved that Namjoon is returning to Ilsan, to visit his family. He wonders if he should recommend Namjoon stays there a while longer. Possibly for good. 

With his face buried in his pillow for the second night in a row, Hoseok feels as if he may just be on the brink of total ascension. Soul leaving the body, and all that—enlightened beyond the realm of what is humanly imaginable. 

Namjoon fucks him slow and deep, pressing hard on the back of his head while his other hand grips the tip of Hoseok’s cock, squeezing any time he starts to feel close, as if Namjoon is hardwired to know precisely when he is ready to burst. 

Hoseok grips and claws at soft quilted fabric, breath ragged and hot, sticking to his skin as it condensates with nowhere else to go, suffocating him as his bliss ebbs and flows to high highs and abrupt stops. He could die like this. He practically begs Namjoon to press hard enough to cut off the flow of oxygen completely. 

“So fucking good for me,” Namjoon moans as he thrusts languidly. Two loads of his come squelch with every movement; Namjoon has been making Hoseok wait a long time before he can finish. Hoseok does not mind. “Gonna be so sore, you’ll feel me all the way to New Zealand, baby.”

Hoseok whimpers and squeezes the comforter harder, lamenting having to leave. He almost feels guilty for how quickly he knows he will forget about Namjoon the moment his feet touch new soil. Once he focuses on finding them, everything else will fade into obscurity. 

“On your back,” Namjoon mutters, voice sounding deep and broken as he pulls out and releases Hoseok’s cock, making him tremble and whine, feeling so terribly empty. 

Hoseok falls to his hip and takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut as he rolls onto his back. He squints his eyes open, blinking so as to not let in too much light, and Namjoon’s torso and neck come into view, flushed and covered in a layer of sweat. 

“Wanna look at you while I come inside you one last time,” Namjoon says, making Hoseok’s stomach churn from how final it all sounds, reminding him of the last time with Yoongi, when he said something similar. “Want to watch you come once more before you’re gone.”

“G-gone,” Hoseok mutters quietly, voice croaking around the word, throat raw from screaming into the pillow. 

Namjoon grips Hoseok’s hips to yank and press him into place, lines himself with Hoseok’s sore, used hole, then spits on Hoseok’s cock and grips it tightly, rolling his palm over the head. The pressure from orgasm after orgasm being denied has every touch feeling electric to the point of being painful, and Hoseok gasps and groans from the touch, pleasure-pain shooting through his limbs and festering deep in his guts. 

“So pretty,” Namjoon praises as he slowly fills Hoseok, pressing his thick length past each ring of abused and tired muscle. 

Hoseok whimpers and sobs, feeling too overwhelmed by the sight of his husband towering over and glaring down on him. Everything is too much, and Hoseok wishes he could return to being pressed face down. Suffocation would certainly be easier on the heart. 

With a deep, rumbly groan, Namjoon pulls back and thrusts forward quickly, causing Hoseok's entire body to freeze, spine locked in an arch, as a sob quakes through him and trembles from between his lips. He is suddenly so dreadfully close to the edge and already beyond the point of overstimulation. 

"You gonna come already, baby?" Namjoon teases, rolling his palm over Hoseok's cock while he pulls back and thrusts forward, back and forward, picking up a pace much steadier than anything he has done for the past incomprehensible amount of time. 

"I'm—" Hoseok sobs, squeezing his eyes closed as Namjoon thrusts deep and opening them widely when he pulls back. "Yes."

"Good boy."

Hoseok whimpers as Namjoon continues to fuck him, and his heels dig uselessly against the blue comforter, unable to find a stable position. His legs are restless, but he lacks the energy to hold them in place, instead clawing at the blanket with both hands, down at his sides. 

"T-too much," Hoseok whines, knowing that if he really needs Namjoon to slow or stop, that he will have to use his safeword, not wanting to. 

Namjoon knits his brows and juts out his lip into a mock pout, responding, "You can take it, baby," in a tone dripping with mirth, making Hoseok want to cry. 

Hoseok is not entirely sure he can take it. His entire body begins to stiffen and convulse against the mattress as sharp, overwhelming waves of horrible pleasure rock through him, pulling him asunder. Close. So, terribly close. 

"So good for me," Namjoon groans, giving Hoseok's cock a firm, nearly painful squeeze. "For me and only me,"

"Only you…" Hoseok mutters as his eyes roll back and he succumbs to innumerous feelings, trembling and sobbing as the pleasure bursts and overcomes him.

"That's it," Namjoon groans, voice sounding affected—broken around the edges.

Hoseok paints himself in release, spraying his neck, chest, and tummy, aided by Namjoon's insistent fist. Much to his demise, Namjoon's hips speed up, shooting blinding amounts of pleasure-pain through him. It hurts—it hurts to the extent of Hoseok nearly calling his safeword and begging Namjoon to stop. The oxygen feels pressed sharply from his lungs, and he squeezes his eyes closed so hard, his head begins to ache.

"Joon…" he mutters, voice barely audible over the slap of skin against sweaty skin. "Pl–please, baby…hurts…"

With a loud, long groan, Namjoon's hips still and tremble, and he pulls from Hoseok's stretched, aching hole and sprays his come over Hoseok's thigh, tummy, and deflating cock, droplets compared to his earlier loads, but still more than Hoseok would expect. The fluids instantly begin to cool, along with the sweat that covers him, and Hoseok's shoulders and chest tense as he begins to shiver. 

"God damn," Namjoon gasps, leaning forward on one hand propped beside Hoseok's hip while he squeezes his cock in the other. "Fuck. Look at you, shivering and covered in come. Such a pretty fuck toy, baby."

The impulse to cry returns, and Hoseok attempts to blink it away, feeling a trembling exhale work its way through his chest and throat. 

"C-cold," he whines, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Alright, let's get you into a hot shower," Namjoon says in a tone that is flat, possibly verging on annoyance, though Hoseok could be imagining it.

Namjoon leaves the room and makes his way to the bathroom. Lazily, Hoseok drops his head to the side and watches as his husband's ass flexes and relaxes—perky and soft. The sound of the faucet turning on makes Hoseok groan, and he sits up slowly, feeling his muscles settle somewhat painfully from being fucked so hard and for so long. 

When Namjoon returns, he appears exasperated. His lips are tugged down into a frown, and he looks everywhere but at Hoseok, even as he approaches and scoops him up bridal style to take into the bathroom. Despite the feeling of discomfort that engulfs and settles down into his bones, Hoseok leans into Namjoon, shivering against his warm skin, and Namjoon squeezes him a bit in response. 

"I'll miss you, Seok," Namjoon mutters as they enter the bathroom. 

And although Hoseok knows Namjoon must only be talking about missing him while Hoseok is away on his work trip, the way he says it feels heavy. Matched with the way he was speaking moments ago about fucking him one last time, Hoseok's mind races. What if he returns and Namjoon has decided to move on, leaving him alone in this home? He knows he deserves it. 

"I'll miss you too, Joonie," Hoseok responds solemnly, thankful to be set beside the shower so that he can step into the tub, allowing the steam and water to greet him—warm and welcoming, and a cover for his tears. 

Hoseok is beginning to stir, letting the early morning sunlight break through, turning his dreams into distant blurs that are slowly wiping from his mind. He hardly makes sense of Namjoon's voice sweetly saying, "Rise and shine, baby," until delicate touches against his forehead and cheek bring the waking world more quickly into focus. 

"Hmm?" Hoseok grumbles, stretching his legs out, followed by his arms, which he lifts over his head. 

"You have a long trip ahead of you, so I thought I would head to work a little late and see you off," Namjoon responds low and close, leaving warm breath after each word to ghost over Hoseok's face. 

Namjoon smells minty and sweet, and Hoseok would chase his lips to have a taste, if only his own breath weren't putrid from sleep. Slowly, Hoseok opens his eyes, squinting as he adjusts to the light. Namjoon has opened the curtains, and although the sun has yet to fully rise, it is more than Hoseok is used to when he wakes.

"What would my husband like for breakfast?" Namjoon asks, and Hoseok nearly pinches himself to check that he is awake, after all. 

"Coffee and an omelet?" Hoseok responds, voice still raw from overuse. 

With a hum, Namjoon kisses Hoseok on the forehead, then makes his way from the bedroom. Hoseok groans and stretches once more, then he sits up, digging his palms into the mattress while the pain in his ass radiates through him, making him hiss. Namjoon certainly fulfilled his promise to make him sore, and he hopes the eleven-hour plane ride is not too painful.

Hoseok sits a moment, gathering his thoughts and allowing his brain to fully catch up to being awake. Then he slowly swings his legs over the edge of the mattress while pushing away the comforter, and sets his feet onto the floor. It feels like only yesterday, Hoseok could barely manage this much movement without feeling intense bursts of blinding pain radiating from his side, and he stares at his feet, grateful for mobility. And for community. Although getting wrapped up in Yoongi and Jeongguk's mess was what got him shot in the first place, Hoseok is grateful to have had them by his and Namjoon's side while he recovered. He thinks about that incident often.

As Hoseok gets out of bed and makes his way to the closet, the smell of coffee slowly permeates the air, hitting his nose. He takes a deep, slow inhale and smiles on each exhale while finding an undershirt and suit for the day—all black, of course. He can faintly hear the sounds of kitchenware, and he gets dressed a little quicker than usual, excited to have breakfast with his husband. 

He promises himself that once he completes the job in New Zealand and confirms his suspicions in Australia, he will be ready to move on and be devoted once more to Namjoon. Although he misses Yoongi and Jeongguk terribly, he feels certain that he is finally at peace with whatever mess transpired between the four of them being over. Enough time has passed, and he does not crave Yoongi the way he used to. 

He will miss occupying Jeongguk's body, but his main concern is that the two of them are still alive. He can deal with the possibility of them being in different vessels if and when the time comes. He just needs to see that they are alive. Perhaps losing the temptation of their former bodies will put everything to rest. 

"Ready, Seok!" Namjoon shouts from downstairs, and Hoseok smiles wide, nibbling on his lower lip. He wonders how he got so lucky to run into Namjoon all those years ago at that shitty college party. He wonders if Namjoon feels lucky sometimes, too. 

"Coming," Hoseok responds, though not too loud. 

He snakes a belt through the loops of his slacks and begins to buckle it, catching his reflection in the mirror. His hair is beginning to grow too long, the back falling below his ears, but he likes the way it frames his face, shaggy and a bit unkempt. 

Hoseok pulls a black blazer from its hanger and drapes it over his arm, then approaches his mahogany jewelry box, lifting the lid and pulling out his favorite Rolex—a black watch face with silver details and a silver band. Then he makes his way from his bedroom, to the stairs. 

Part of him feels sentimental about leaving, but he is too excited about breakfast to let that weigh on him too heavily. He will have to bear the burden of his choices eventually, but for now, Namjoon is waiting for him. And considering the chance that Namjoon might not be here when he returns, Hoseok knows that he needs to appreciate every moment that he can, right now. 

As he walks down the stairs, he notices his suitcase is already down on the landing, and he smiles to himself. Namjoon really has thought of everything, it seems. A relief, considering Hoseok had forgotten to grab it, too busy being wrapped up in his thoughts. The air smells of coffee and melted butter, and Hoseok reaches the bottom of the staircase with a pep in his step and spins in socked feet toward the kitchen. 

Namjoon stands in a black hoodie and sweatpants, which is an uncharacteristic sight, and Hoseok wonders just how much later he plans to go into work, almost making a joke about casual Friday being far more casual than he remembers. He tries not to think of the familiar attire on Yoongi and Jeongguk, but it feels impossible, and he sighs as he smiles and allows his husband to pull him into a hug.

"How long do you expect to be away?" Namjoon asks with his lips pressed to Hoseok's temple. 

Truthfully, Hoseok has no idea. As long as his target is where The Boss says he is, Hoseok could have his actual mission complete by tomorrow. But as for when he will return home…

"Hopefully no longer than a week," Hoseok responds with a sigh, considering the possibility of needing the entire week to search for Jimin and Taehyung. "A week from Sunday, at the latest."

Namjoon plants a kiss on Hoseok's cheek, then steps back and motions for him to have a seat. His breakfast is going to be cold, but Hoseok hardly cares as he lets his fingertips linger on the soft black cotton before pulling away. 

At the sight of only one plate, Hoseok feels a bit sad; he had hoped that he and Namjoon would share a meal before he leaves. But Namjoon does have a seat across from him, cradling a white ceramic mug of steaming coffee, and Hoseok decides that is good enough.

"I might still be in Ilsan when you return," Namjoon says, pulling Hoseok's attention and making him hum. "I'll keep you posted, though."

Hoseok grabs his coffee cup and lifts it to his lips, muttering, "Alright," before taking a sip of the steaming, bitter liquid. Then he sets the mug down and eats his omelet, rushing through it just a tad so that he can round the table, straddle Namjoon's thighs, and get back to hugging and kissing him before he finally has to leave.

"Do we have time to fuck?" Namjoon asks against Hoseok's lips, breath smelling like coffee while his candor takes him by surprise. 

"I don't think I could handle it," Hoseok responds, rubbing his fingertips over Namjoon's neck. His ass is far more sore than he would care to admit.

"What if I already stretched myself with a plug this morning?" Namjoon asks, rubbing his palms down Hoseok's chest and stomach before gripping onto his thighs. 

Hoseok gasps. "Oh?"

Namjoon hums in response and begins to palm over Hoseok's crotch, sending blood flooding to the warmth left by his touch. If Namjoon is already prepped, they should have time for a quickie.

"Alright," Hoseok says, checking his watch to confirm he has about twenty minutes until he has to leave. "I want you naked and on your knees, on the couch."

Hoseok sits up straight and gets onto his feet, taking in the sight of Namjoon disheveled and flushed, lounging back against his wooden dining room chair. 

He steps back, giving him space as Namjoon nods, smiles, and mutters, "Yes, daddy."

Thanks to the aid of prescription medication, most of the eleven-hour and twenty-five-minute flight goes by in a blink of an eye. Hoseok wakes up drowsy and stretches as the plane skids over the tarmac, slowing to a taxi while the sun shines brightly into the small windows. He has never been to New Zealand before, and although he is interested in taking in the scenery, his brain has not fully logged back on.

Beside him, across the tiny aisle, The Boss sits staring out her window with a glass of white wine in her hand, dangling by the stem between two manicured fingers. She must sense Hoseok is awake, because without turning to look at him, she says, "I have confirmation on the…information…that I began to share with you, yesterday."

"Oh?" Hoseok asks through a yawn.

The Boss hums. "As you recall, it is in regards to Seokjin. I fear that once I share this information with you, you might do something irrational."

"Try me," Hoseok responds, already feeling fed up with her tone. 

The plane slows to a stop, and outside workers are positioning a metal ladder outside while an attendant begins to open the door from the inside. The Boss drinks back the last of her wine and holds the empty glass out for another attendant to walk by and grab, then she unbuckles her seatbelt, stands, and smooths her hands over her long black dress—another fit for a funeral.

"Kim Seokjin is a Jeon," The Boss says simply. 

Hoseok's head races, though he already knows what she is trying to tell him. The resemblance between Seokjin and Jeongguk was hard to miss. 

She continues, "A Jeon who is not eager for his father to be assassinated, I suspect. Hence attempting to pull you off of his little brother's trail to focus on a fake job."

Or, Hoseok thinks, he is eager to get his little brother back. Perhaps he assumed that once Hoseok came into contact with his targets, he would know that one of them is Jeongguk in a new body. Maybe he does want his father to be assassinated; he seems quite a bit older than Jeongguk. Perhaps whatever his father is in charge of, Seokjin will be next in line for. He could even be throwing Jeongguk under the bus, hoping for the kid to do his dirty work. 

"Interesting," Hoseok responds as he undoes his seatbelt and stands. 

Hoseok begins to make his way to the exit, already finished with this conversation. Now he definitely wants to get this job finished as quickly as possible so he can get onto a red-eye to Sydney. 

"I recommend you stay away from him," The Boss adds, but Hoseok does not stop, only mutters, "Got it."

"I mean it, Hoseok-ssi," she continues. "Last we heard, he was laying low in Tokyo. Whatever it is he seems to be running away from, it could have something to do with the Korean government. He could be working with Yakuza."

Hoseok nods and exits the airplane, squinting as the sunlight fully permeates his vision. He is tired and grumpy, and he just wants to get jumped and take care of his client. The Boss is close behind, footfalls clicking against the metal ladder as Hoseok reaches the bottom, and he heads toward a black car, anticipating The Boss to climb into the front seat. 

Hoseok opens the door behind the driver and gets into the car, then shuts it and takes in the smell of artificial leather that has undoubtedly been sprayed, perhaps to give an air of newness or importance. Once The Boss gets into the front seat, a staff member places their luggage into the trunk and closes it, then the car takes off. 

"We are going to take you straight to the target host and get you in and out quickly," The Boss states. 

Music to Hoseok's ears. 

"Sounds good," Hoseok mutters as he closes his eyes and rests his head back. 

With any luck, he may be able to avoid checking into the hotel altogether. 

Although it is possible to jump into the body of a person who has been knocked out, The Boss prefers not to go that route. Depending on the method used to knock out a host, their body may be sluggish, and that is the last thing an assassin needs. So when Hoseok shows up to the penthouse of some fancy hotel to find a man bound to a chair and whimpering into a gag, he sighs. 

Of course, he agrees with The Boss, and prefers his hosts to be as alert as possible, but jumping into the body of a man who has been struggling enough to break out into a sweat is also not optimal. Not only is he risking feeling soreness, but he is going to have to clean the man enough to make him presentable to the target, which is a hassle. 

Without skipping a beat, Hoseok approaches the hotel bed and pulls off his black blazer, draping it over the back of a nearby empty chair before taking a seat and swinging his legs up. He lays his head into the receiver, then reaches back to uncork his implant and plug himself in. The metal feels cold as it slides past his skin, though he cannot feel anything once it enters the receptor nestled in his brain. 

"Ready?" The Boss calls, and Hoseok closes his eyes and hums before saying, "Ready."

"Jumping in 3…2…"

A ringing can be heard before everything goes black and then white. 

It always feels weird to wake up in someone else's body. The discombobulation of space and time, adjusting for hand-eye coordination in a new skinsuit with different length limbs and overall proportions, acclimating as quickly as possible to carry out the tasks at hand. 

But he always adjusts quickly because he is the best. 

Nobody is better than Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok opens the host's eyes, he feels the soreness in the man's biceps and thighs from being bound to the wooden chair, and he closes the host's eyes and sighs, doing his best to relax the man's muscles while the team checks to make sure it is, in fact, Hoseok jumped into his skin.

"Birthday?" a man asks as the cloth is pulled down away from Hoseok's host's mouth. 

"Nineteen ninety-four, eighteen, two."

"And your spouse?" The man asks.

Hoseok clicks the host's tongue against the roof of his mouth and mutters, "Keep my husband out of this."

The man looks past Hoseok, undoubtedly to The Boss, who must give him a signal to accept the answer. 

Hoseok is untied from the chair and stands, stretching the long, heavy limbs with the hope of relieving some tension. 

"Your host and the target have a dinner reservation at the restaurant downstairs," The Boss informs as Hoseok cracks his host's neck and stretches the arms out once more. "All we need you to do is get the man into a car afterward. How you manage that is up to you, as long as it does not cause a scene."

Before falling asleep on the airplane, Hoseok watched a video compilation of the two men interacting and determined that the target is pretty easily persuaded by the host, who goes by the name of Ahn Ilseong. The target—a man named Choi Giseok—is a lawyer who has been taking bribes from some pretty high-profile clients, recently assisting in the building of an apartment complex that will cover what the Korean government believes to be a burial grounds for a now-defunct gang whose operators are still lurking in the shadows of Seoul. 

After the discovery of two bodies, detectives have been working around the clock to catch those in charge and put a stop to the building operations, but the man Hoseok meets with today has been influential in covering everyone's tracks. 

While taking hush money, Choi has been approving building codes and ordinances for the construction of that building, despite the place being an active crime scene, using his power and influence to secure a certain police chief who Choi has promised to help make a mayor, right into his pocket. Hence the hit placed on his head; taking down a lawyer is far easier than taking down the police, but Hoseok expects this case to extend into their precinct, should this job not send a clear enough message.

Hoseok approaches his own body, which lies unconscious on the bed, and rummages through his front pocket to grab his cell phone. Then he types in his passcode and makes his way to the suite's bathroom to clean up while he replays videos of the host to watch for mannerisms and listen for speech patterns. 

This time frame is a little tight and not ideal, but he is confident he can figure it out. Worst case scenario, he drugs the man and makes it appear as though he is too drunk and needs to be escorted out to a car. It does not quite fit the whole not-making-a-scene profile, but it is a plausible enough scenario. 

Once Hoseok has the host's face washed and hair combed with enough dry shampoo to rid the sweaty and disheveled appearance he found him in, Hoseok bids The Boss farewell and makes his way down to the lobby with ten minutes to spare before their reservation. 

Choi Giseok is already at the bar when Hoseok arrives, and he approaches on the man's right side, slinging an arm over his shoulder, doing his best not to gag from the overwhelming stench of cigar smoke, sweat, and booze. Much to Hoseok's delight, he seems to be on his way to being wasted. 

"Starting without me?" Hoseok chides, as he looks down at the man's drink and back to his face. 

Choi squints at him, and for a split moment, Hoseok worries that already he may be blowing his own cover. He is, after all, a little rusty from not working as much as he used to. Perhaps his studies were not thorough enough. 

"Ahn, you son of a bitch!" Choi finally slurs, setting Hoseok's mind at ease. "Have a drink with me, and then we will sit down to dinner and discuss the deal, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hoseok responds with a crooked smile, breathing in through the host's mouth in an attempt to avoid Choi's stench as he settles on the stool beside him. He waves down the tender, orders one of "whatever he's having," and sets the night in motion. 

It takes exactly two hours of listening to the old man babble bullshit, eating steak, and drinking whiskey before Hoseok is able to get him into a car on its way to the airport. He does not even put up a fuss; hardly seeming cognizant of where he is. Easy peasy. 

The walk back through the hotel lobby and to the elevators is a bit rushed and stumbly due to his attempts to keep up with Choi's unrelenting need to drink and drink. He wastes no time, feeling the host's pulse spike as he makes his way back to the penthouse suite, to his body.

By the time Hoseok is back in his own skin, he feels restless. Two men drug a very combative Ahn Ilseong and drag him out while Hoseok smooths his jacket down with his palms. The thrill of completing a task feels duller than usual, and he checks his Rolex to find that it is already after 8 PM. He is quite tired, but not enough to stay on this island. He needs to get to Australia. 

"I trust that we have someone waiting for these men back home to carry out the rest of the mission," Hoseok says, pretending to adjust his silver cufflinks while ignoring the way The Boss must be glaring at him. 

"And why would you assume such a thing?" she asks after a few tense seconds of silence. 

"Your description of the job only included jumping and getting the man into custody," Hoseok says, glancing up to find her squinting at him with her hands on her hips. "There was no mention of me carrying out the assassination."

"And just who the fuck else will carry it out?" The Boss snaps.

Hoseok fights the urge to laugh—this really should not strike him as funny, but he is mentally and emotionally checked out. 

"Any of the other men," Hoseok responds, lifting a brow and dropping his hands to his sides. "We have a whole team."

The Boss studies him for a moment, then crosses her arms tightly over her chest before asking, "You're going to Australia, aren't you?"

"That is correct," Hoseok responds; he figures he may as well be honest.

"Hoseok—" she begins, but he cuts her off. 

"I think it's them. At the very least, I need to see for myself."

"And if they're not?" The Boss challenges, cocking her head to the side. 

Hoseok drops his gaze to the forest green carpet and shrugs. 

"If they're not, then they're not. Either way, I will be home in a few days."

"I thought I told you to stay away from Seokjin," she tries, and Hoseok senses a tremble in her voice. 

"This isn't about Seokjin. This is about Yoongi and Jeongguk. I need to go."

The Boss does not say anything at first, and Hoseok hovers for a few beats before deciding he would like to get to the airport as quickly as he can. He unlocks his phone and searches for whether or not New Zealand has Uber, then navigates to the app and calls for a car to the airport. 

"I won't send you there with the company's fuel," The Boss says, possibly as a last-ditch effort to make Hoseok change his mind. He hadn't planned on using the private jet in the first place.

Hoseok lifts his phone and turns the screen toward The Boss, showing her the Uber app with a map open. A little black car symbol is at the far bottom of the screen, connected to a dot where the hotel is by a long, winding black line. 

"Already have it figured out," he says.

"Alright," The Boss concedes. "But be careful."

With a hum, Hoseok takes his leave. 

A car is thirteen minutes away, but Hoseok has no desire to stay inside the suite a moment longer than he needs to, so he straightens his suit jacket once more and makes for the door, stopping to extend the handle of his black rolling suitcase and gripping tightly to it as he flings the door open and away from him. There is a light, lingering stench of perfume in the air—something too sweet to be considered pleasant—and Hoseok scrunches his nose as he walks through the empty hallway, shoes sinking into forest green carpeting as he makes his way toward the elevator. 

Guilt pangs through Hoseok's chest as a sense of déjà vu hits him. Hotel hallways with ill intentions, acting as a liminal space between where he should be headed and where he wants to be. 

He should at least message Namjoon to let him know he is thinking about him. 

By the time Hoseok reaches the elevator, his heart pounds with anticipation. What if he finds Park and Kim and discovers they are two men in their own bodies, actually running from the Korean government? What if Seokjin is setting him up to be captured or killed? What if his suspicions are correct but Yoongi and Jeongguk, in these shiny new bodies, want nothing to do with him?

Hoseok wonders if this would be the first time Yoongi has permanently jumped into someone else's body. Is it something he does regularly? What kinds of horrible secrets could he be hiding? 

The doors of the elevator grind open and pull Hoseok from his thoughts. Had he pushed a call button? He hardly remembers approaching the lift at all, but it is empty when he steps in, so he must have called for it. With a sigh, Hoseok hits the first-floor button and pulls out his phone, checking to see that the car is seven minutes away.

Hoseok opens his search engine and begins to see if there are any flights that leave for Sydney tonight. Depending on how quickly he can get to the airport, he might be able to catch a flight immediately. Otherwise, he will have to wait several hours. 

As the elevator doors open, Hoseok stands tall and makes his way into the lobby, eyes ahead on the dark sky just outside the glass doors and wall. No detail of the space lingers long enough in Hoseok's periphery to make it out; only the vague memory of light marble, dark upholstered chairs, and matching carpeting cross his mind before fading to obscurity. 

The cool night air instantly chills Hoseok as he steps outside. He shivers and pulls his phone out, checking to see that the Uber driver is four minutes away, and that he should be pulling right up to the doors. Then he glances around, and instead of finding a bench to sit on, he decides to make his way over to an empty stretch of wall to lean against it.

Hoseok wishes he had a cigarette—an urge he does not have often. Nicotine would be nice at a time like this. 

As Hoseok waits, he stares ahead at the ground—black and dark grey and somewhat foreboding under the glow of the yellow lights coming off the hotel. There is a part of him that almost hopes that the driver does not get him to the airport on time for the soonest flight, just so that he can sit with his thoughts and prolong the inevitable, but he knows that if that does become the case, his thoughts could very well eat him alive. 

For weeks, he has been a shell of a man searching and waiting and worrying. He needs closure. He needs to at least try.

Hoseok's phone dings to alert him that the black Honda Civic is approaching, and he looks up to find a car that fits the description pulling into the round driveway in front of the hotel. Hoseok straightens out, confirms the license plate number, then makes his way to the vehicle. When the driver gets out after popping his trunk, Hoseok allows the man to take his suitcase and place it inside, then he slides into the back seat on the passenger side and takes in the stench of fake leather that reminds him of the ride over from the airport this morning. 

"Alright, mister…" the driver says in a thick, somewhat unfamiliar English-speaking accent as Hoseok puts on his seatbelt and the man stares at his phone, undoubtedly trying to make sense of a Korean name. 

"Hoseok," Hoseok mutters while rolling his eyes to gaze out the window to his right. 

The driver hums and says, "Off to the airport, I see," then waits for a beat, possibly for Hoseok to respond, before driving off. 

Thankfully, they are not too far from the destination, because the stink of the fake leather is beginning to give Hoseok a headache. He is feeling extremely cranky and he just wants to be on his way. Opening the window for a moment blasts cold air into his face and he quickly rolls it back up with a huff before spacing out once more. 

New Zealand seems like a neat place, he thinks. But he has no desire to be here. 

It takes them a little while to get up to the correct doors, but once the car is pulled up to the curb, Hoseok gets out and makes his way quickly to the trunk, which pops open. The driver only halfway gets out of the car before Hoseok can slam the trunk shut and mutter a quick, "Thanks," and then he sets the wheels of the suitcase onto the ground and hastily makes his way into the airport.

Lines are short, and Hoseok approaches a kind-looking older lady, and says, in English, "I am hoping to get onto a flight to Sydney, please."

The transaction takes all of ten minutes, with Hoseok wheeling off to the security line, which moves quicker than he expects. The bad news is that the soonest flight to Sydney is already too soon for the attendant to have issued him a seat in good faith, and Hoseok tells himself that he is relieved not to have to sprint through an unfamiliar airport. The good news is that the bar near his gate is open late, and boy, is Hoseok thirsty. 

Approaching a bar and being spoken to in English takes Hoseok momentarily off-guard. He had just been speaking English to the woman at the counter to get a flight ticket, but something about ordering a drink from a tender—an action he has performed many times—feels strange to do in another language. But he spots a familiar bottle of whiskey and orders a glass, easing quickly into the interaction. 

Since he has several hours to kill, and the airport bar is pretty empty of patrons, Hoseok decides to strike up conversation. The tender is pretty cute, and he finds Hoseok's accent charming, and Hoseok thinks there are worse ways to kill a few hours. 

The moment Hoseok wakes up—jolted from the feeling of the plane touching down—he yawns and squeezes his eyes closed before opening them wide. Then he switches his phone from airplane mode and watches as notifications pour in. Two are from Namjoon, letting him know that he is on his way to Ilsan and that he hopes everything is going well for Hoseok, and one from an unknown number. 

[Unknown]: Your boys have been spotted at a popular nightclub not too far from the hotel. Will attach the location. They may be there again tonight. 

Hoseok does not bother to try responding, assuming his number has already been blocked. Seokjin must have some way of knowing that he has traveled, so whatever it is the man does for a living, he seems to at least have friends in high enough places. Perhaps even someone working with the bureau for which Seokjin lied about being employed. 

As the plane pulls to its designated spot, anxiety takes over. Hoseok suddenly has no idea what he is doing or why he thought coming to Australia would be a good idea. There is a chance that he will find nothing. But, even if he does find what he is looking for, he acknowledges that it may very well be just another action on his long list of malfeasances against his marriage vows. Try as he might to convince himself that he is ready to move on, he is unsure how he might feel if he meets Park and Kim. 

He is also anxious because he has to urinate. After several glasses of whiskey and a couple dealer's choice drinks concocted by the bartender that tasted like glorified Manhattans, Hoseok used the bathroom once shortly after takeoff and immediately passed out with his head against the window. It was a relief, at the time, to find he had the row of seats to himself, having the freedom to get up and move around as needed, but he had not used the freedom he had been granted. 

It takes entirely too long to exit the plane, standing hunched over in his seat while his bladder screams and everyone files out as slowly as humanly possible, some fumbling with overhead compartments and others trying to wrangle children. There is truly nothing worse than a commercial flight, Hoseok is certain of it. 

The first order of business is making a beeline to a bathroom the moment he steps from the jetway and onto solid floor. Hoseok groans as he situates himself before a urinal, practically moaning from relief as he empties his bladder. He is still somewhat drunk from earlier, and he has the overwhelming urge to either curl up and go to sleep, or keep drinking. Luckily, it is the middle of the night, leaving Hoseok with only one option. 

A plus side to his government job is that Hoseok almost never has trouble booking a hotel. Regardless of the continent, people feel adamant to accommodate him the moment he flashes his government-issued identification card and winning smile. So when Hoseok calls the Park Hyatt, he is pleased that even over the phone at this ungodly hour, he is able to secure a room. It takes some convincing to allow him to check in immediately, rather than waiting for a more appropriate time, and Hoseok absolutely does make some shit up about it being official government duty, and that, if he likes, he could get someone local on the phone. 

"That won't be necessary, sir," is music to Hoseok's ears as he speeds through the airport down to baggage claim. 

By the time he hails a cab and sinks into the leather backseat, the weight of everything begins to press on him heavily. Hoseok is exhausted. He cannot wait to sleep. Tomorrow, his search begins. 

Despite his exhaustion, Hoseok hardly sleeps a wink. The sun rises mere hours after he lays down, and although the curtains do an okay job of blocking out the sunlight, by 8 AM he is wide awake. He decides to take a shower and then find something to eat. If Park and Kim have been spotted clubbing, then Hoseok assumes they may also be the types to sleep late. And if they are Yoongi and Jeongguk occupying new bodies, it is likely they will order room service rather than venture out to a diner or café. 

Still, Hoseok dresses in more casual clothing than usual and begins looking for somewhere local with a cup of coffee. At the very least, he wants to get a sense of the neighborhood, and take a walk along various paths that would lead him to and from the location Seokjin said they were spotted at. 

Wearing a simple black tee tucked into black skinny jeans with a black leather belt and chelsea boots, Hoseok covers the bottom half of his face with a black mask and heads down to the lobby. His room is on the third floor, a far cry from the penthouse and executive suites he has grown accustomed to, but the tan and white furnished room is sleek and luxurious, and still roomy enough for one person to spend a few nights. 

Although he knows there is no chance of spotting either of them in the hallway, he still looks over his shoulder, turning his head each time he hears another voice. The lobby is surprisingly crowded, and he glances around for two men roughly Yoongi and Jeongguk's height but with lighter brown and blond hair, not finding anyone who may look Korean. 

Hoseok is so distracted walking through the lobby glancing around at everyone, that he bumps into someone, causing them to drop their phone in a clatter against the white marble floor. The person scrambles, and Hoseok bends instinctively to pick up what was dropped, nearly colliding with the other person's forehead. 

"Shit, sorry," Hoseok mutters in English, bowing his head as he walks away, not looking the person in the eyes. He is too tired, and his pulse is spiked too high. He needs some fresh air. 

As soon as he exits the hotel, the scenery does not seem too promising in terms of finding any kind of city life, with the hotel sitting on a harbor. But, evidently, there are several cafés and nightlife spots a short distance away, so Hoseok walks in the other direction from the waterfront. 

The weather is nice, and Hoseok takes note of the nearby botanical garden that Seokjin mentioned days ago. He cannot help but think about the gardens in Osaka the day that everything truly started between the four of them, for better and for worse. 

It only takes about five minutes to find a café, and he orders an Americano and sits near the window to survey the passersby and try to clear his head. Memorizing patterns and behavior is his job; this should be no problem, as long as Park and Kim are actually Yoongi and Jeongguk. It has to be them; he just knows it.

Once Hoseok drinks his coffee, he heads out past the nightclub, surveying more clubs and bars, judging them on whether he thinks Yoongi and Jeongguk would be likely to patronize. He even takes a stroll through the botanical garden with the hope of organizing his thoughts, but it feels like an impossible task. The more Hoseok settles into the neighborhood and lets the possibility of finding them sink in, the higher his nervousness builds. 

He stops somewhere for food, just to get a sandwich and quell his hunger, then makes his way back to the hotel, deciding that perhaps he will eat in his room, then sit down at the bar for a drink. Even if he is at the bar by himself, he does not wish to be alone, especially in his quiet hotel room. 

Later in the evening, Hoseok settles in against the marble countertop of the hotel bar and sips at a glass of neat whiskey. Although he tells himself he is not intentionally on the lookout for the two of them, he checks over his shoulders every so often. So much so that the bartender asks if he is waiting for someone. 

"Hmm," Hoseok considers the question, then shrugs as he says, "Kind of."

After several drinks, Hoseok is groggy while walking to the nightclub. He arrives late enough for it to be packed, and does a round to the bar, glancing at the swarms of patrons before standing with a drink in hand and his eyes on the crowd. Once his drink is gone, he sets his empty glass on the counter and heads to the dancefloor to blow off some steam. 

Strangers approach him to flirt, and he even allows a cute woman to wrap her arms around his shoulders and attempt to seduce him, going so far as to move his hips invitingly for a song or two. But everything feels empty and a little distracting, and he excuses himself to the bar, wishing her a good night before she can join him. After another drink, he stumbles back to the hotel, feeling worse for wear emotionally; drunk and very much wrapped up in his feelings. At least he is so exhausted that by the time his head hits the pillow, he is out like a light.

The second day is much the same. He takes a late lunch walking through the neighborhood, then through the botanical gardens and back, only to wind up bar hopping before landing at the same club as the night before. He drinks and dances alone, turning down strangers looking for a little fun. Then he stumbles back to his hotel alone, falling asleep before he has a chance to let everything weigh him down any further. 

The third and fourth days are much the same, leading Hoseok absolutely nowhere. He thinks he sees chestnut hair on a build that could resemble Jeongguk at the botanical garden, but loses the man in a crowd before he can get closer, and then he hops from night club to night club, tumbling into bed drunk and disappointed each night earlier than the night before.

Hoseok almost does not leave his room on the fifth day, feeling a level of depression that is almost foreign to him. Never before has he felt so bogged down by hopelessness that all he can do is stare at the wall, with the exception of recovering from getting shot. Not since college, anyway. He wonders if his methods are failing because he is not likely to find Park and Kim where he would expect to find his friends. He worries they might actually not be his friends, after all.

Deciding that the route he has been taking for the last two days is not the correct one, Hoseok decides to head down to the pool for a little while and swim some laps. He is bored beyond belief, wishing he had a way to contact Seokjin and ask for more information. If he has a way of knowing Park and Kim have been to that nightclub, then he should be able to see other activity, so why is he staying silent? 

Hoseok slides on a pair of salmon-colored swim shorts and puts on a white tee. The walk to the pool is winding and confusing, and by the time Hoseok reaches his destination, he is practically ready to turn back and return to his room, exasperated to the point of muttering under his breath. The sunlight coming in through the tall glass walls is too bright, the sounds of voices and shoes echoing through the marble corridors are all too loud, and Hoseok is fed up. 

When he enters the pool area, there are two people sitting in the hot tub, a blond and a brunette, and Hoseok actually stops in his tracks, wondering if it could be them. One of them laughs, and the sound is so bright and sweet but also hauntingly deep, and it echoes delightfully over the largely otherwise empty space, bouncing off the water. Hoseok watches for a moment, but they stay huddled close together, and, from what little he can glean from their conversation, they seem to be speaking in English. 

So he removes his shirt and shoes near a chair and heads for the deep end. Without giving it any thought, he throws his hands over his head and dives in. The water is simultaneously surprisingly cold and peacefully warm, waking up every inch of him, covering him in goosebumps and shrouding him in weightless comfort. He swims ahead as far as he can before his lungs begin to sting, signaling for him to come up for air. When he breaches the surface, the two people who were in the hot tub are gone, leaving him alone. 

Hoseok nearly gives up. After swimming, he has the urge to search for flights back home and check out a couple days early. Something about this trip feels so empty and fruitless. He wonders whether, in his search for them, they have found him, and now they are hiding. Paranoia sinks in, and he begins to worry that the two in the pool earlier could really have been Jimin and Taehyung.

After showering, Hoseok puts on a white tee tucked into blue jeans, with a black jacket over top that has a floral pattern of pinks, blues, and whites. He decides that he will need to have a drink to gain the courage to leave, so he slides on his boots and heads down to the bar. This time, while he boards the elevator and walks through the lobby, he does not look for any familiar faces. This time, he stares ahead, at the boring white floor, attempting to talk himself into giving up and going home. 

The bar appears packed when he approaches, so he leans with his elbow against the strip of space he manages to squeeze into, orders a glass of whiskey neat, and then steps away from the bar to lean against an equally boring marble pillar. Hoseok stares down into the caramel liquid as he swirls his glass, letting the scent of it waft into his nose.

This was a mistake, he thinks. Coming to Australia was a mistake.

Laughter breaks through the crowd, and Hoseok thinks that it sounds just like the one he heard in the pool earlier. His head perks up automatically, searching for the source of the laugh. He has no idea why, he just feels...drawn to it. 

Briefly, he glances around, but he does not see anyone who such an angelic sound may have come from. That is, until someone who had been hunched over the bar stands up straight and turns his way.

The man who locks eyes with Hoseok is so beautiful, he struggles to comprehend it fully. His features are somehow razor sharp and pillow soft, plush and inviting. The man watches Hoseok for a beat with a curious expression, then he smiles, turns and walks away from the bar, past the row of pillars separating the space from the lobby. 

"Wait," Hoseok mutters under his breath, craning his neck to try to see where the pretty man wandered off to, but the large, round marble columns block his view, and several people are standing in his way of moving quickly.

He knows he should not be so fixated on the appearance of a stranger, but something just feels...right about him. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that the man at the bar was Park Jimin. There is no mistaking it. Even in the shoddy security footage that Seokjin provided, those lips and that jawline were impossible to miss. 

Hoseok feels frozen in place, but also driven by the desire to move. Move his feet, move his mouth, move anything that will get him closer to that man once more—that man who he is positive is Jimin. That man who could very well be Yoongi or Jeongguk.

But all he can manage to move in the moment is his arm. He lifts it just enough to tip the glass to his mouth, dumping the whiskey straight down his throat, resisting the burn that it leaves in its wake. With a wince and a slight sigh, Hoseok allows the strong, barrel-aged liquid settle over him. 

He steps up to the bar, weaving between a few bodies on his way, and sets his empty glass down. With no tab to close because the drink has been added to his room, Hoseok lets out a fortifying sigh and turns to exit, but there is a man standing in his way who he nearly runs into.

"Oh, excuse me," the man says in English at the same time Hoseok mutters, "Sorry," in Korean.

"Do you speak Korean?" the man asks in Korean, and Hoseok gasps as he looks up and finds himself face-to-face with Adonis, himself. 

This man is so handsome, his visuals rival fine art; captivating in the way his features rest in a slight frown. His eyes are expressive, and his voice is deep as the ocean but as smooth as silk. This has to be Kim Taehyung.

"Yeah," Hoseok responds after a beat, feeling heat rise to his face once he realizes he has been staring. He attempts to recover, adding, "Sorry, I got thrown off hearing someone speak Korean after several days of speaking English." 

The other beauty approaches from behind this man and places his hands on the man's arms, peeking from around his shoulder with a shy smile. Hoseok lifts his hand and mutters, "Hello," earning a soft, "Hi," in response, setting a swarm of butterflies in his tummy to take flight. 

"Are you here alone?" the tall one asks, earning him a slap on the arm from the shorter one. 

"Tae," the shorter one grumbles, confirming Hoseok's suspicions. 

"What?" the man who must be Kim Taehyung whines, turning his body so the man who must be Park Jimin is in clearer view. "He was surprised to hear me speak Korean. Maybe he could use some company."

"I am alone," Hoseok responds, swallowing a lump as both beautiful men turn their attention back to him. "I'm here for work, but there was a change in plans, so now I'm just...killing time."

He has no idea why he says all of that. Perhaps there is a part of him that does not want them to think he is just here for them—if they are, in fact, his friends. They have not given him a reason to believe they are, but he has not given up hope; perhaps they are trying to suss out the situation before admitting to what they have done.

"I'm Taehyung," the man confirmed as Kim Taehyung says as he holds out his hand, and Hoseok takes it with a bow of his head as he says, "Hoseok."

"Jimin," the man confirmed as Park Jimin says with a small wave, and Hoseok bows his head as he responds, "Nice to meet you two."

"We were thinking about heading to a whiskey bar up the street," Taehyung says, cocking his head to the side and giving Hoseok a lazy smile. "Would you like to join us?"

"Sure," Hoseok responds without giving it any thought. He is desperate to interact with other people, and now that he has found the two men he has been searching for, his heart pounds with anticipation. 

"Alright," Jimin says with an inviting smile and eyes that shimmer in the golden light of the hotel bar, causing the vines around Hoseok's ribs to bloom brightly. "Let's go."

thoughts??? 1 chapter left!!!! 😰😰😰

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Dollhouse is copyright 2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[doveabovetheworld]

Greta Van Fleet as…

Taylor Swift Reputation Songs

So I really tried with this one so please note that there will be mentions of 18+ acts in this so if you aren't comfortable with that you can look at just the mood boards or if you're a minor, please move on. Also please know, Jake will be a dick in his little story thing at first but he gets better soooo… i wrote him like that just because it fits with the song we chose for him, so pls know that's not how I'll usually write him unless it goes with a plot that I make up or unless you guys want more of him like that.

Josh;

“Is it cool that I said all that? Is it cool that you’re in my head? ‘Cause I know that it’s delicate.”

It was a late night at a party that you and your friends went to and you were drunk as fuck.

You were walking around your friend’s house trying to find him when you heard a familiar voice, “Yo, Y/N, where are you going?”

You turned around and found the voice came from exactly who you were looking for: Josh Kiszka. His curly, chestnut brown hair looked amazing in the lighting of his house, or well anywhere to be honest. You walked over to him and hug him. You could see his cheeks flush to become a dark pink when you pulled away.

“I was just looking for you Joshy!” you said cheerfully interlocking your hands together.

“Oh? You were? I thought we were going to play a game with Jake and Danny, remember?”

“No, not really. I'd rather hang out with just you, to be honest.”

“You aren't messing with me, right? I mean we’re both drunk, you more than I but still, we're drunk and I don't want to do something that could ruin the friendship we have.”

“Nothing’s going to ever ruin our friendship, Joshy, trust me.” You still had Josh’s hand intertwined with yours. You started to walk up the stairs and when you got to his room you opened the door and walked inside.

“Look, we don't have to do anything but I want to tell you something,” you sat down on the edge of Josh’s bed as he looked at you with his caramel eyes full of desire. You noted how he looked just now. He was holding himself back with every bone in his body from kissing you. You didn't want him to though. You wish he would let go and let his lips meet with yours and you wish you could be that way with him forever. You wanted him and he wanted you but you both were too scared to confess to one another.

“What's up?” Josh asked sitting right next to you.

“I want you to kiss me, Josh. I want to be so much more than friends. I want to be yours.”

“Y/N...” his voice became hesitant and shakey. You weren't sure of how this situation you got yourself into would end but you knew you would probably pay a price in the morning, whether it be good or bad, “I feel the same way but I can't. I already feel like shit whenever I go on tour and you aren't there but with you and I dating? That'll make it so much worse for me. Not to mention how, again, we're drunk. We aren't thinking straight.”

“Josh. I know what I'm saying. I know what I want. I'm not a little kid. And you know what? I'm saying this out of love, Joshg, but maybe try to stop being afraid for a second?” you weren't mad at Josh for what he was trying to you. You understood perfectly why he was saying what he did. The next part though, you were confused about.

“Maybe, I don't know,” he moved closer to you and took your hand. His were soft and comforting, “Maybe we can see how it works out tonight and worry about tomorrow?”

“Weren't you just saying how you didn't want to?” I asked confused as hell. I know I'm incredibly drunk right now but I'm not dumb.

“Yeah but,” he took in a deep breath and continued, “You're right. I can't be afraid of everything forever.”

“So what you're saying is...”

“So what I'm saying is, I want to kiss you. I want to be with you. I want you.”

“I think I could be okay with that,” you gave a playful smirk to Josh making him let go of the feelings he's held onto for a long time.

That night was full of you and Josh up in his room having the time of your lives as you and him shared intimate and passionate moments between the two of you.

The next morning you awoke with you whole body hurting. You saw who was laying next to you in the bed you were in.

Josh. You were in your friend Josh’s bed with him.

You barely remembered last night until it suddenly hit you.

“What did you do?” you said to yourself quietly, trying not to wake Josh, as he lay in the bed, the most peaceful you've ever seen him.

You got off from the comfortable bed and gathered your clothes off the floor, putting them on. You were about to walk out of the room when you heard Josh’s voice.

“So is that what this was?”

You turned around to see Josh, still laying down, looking at you with sadness and a hint of hope.

“What do you mean?” you asked him, confused.

“You and I hook up for the night and then you leave and we would act as if it never happened until the next party where you get drunk, am I right?”

“Josh, no, it isn't like that. I want to be with you, I do, but I'm scared.”

“You don't think I am too? I mean for Christ's sake I almost had Jake drive you home last night because I was scared I wouldn't be able to contain me, which didn't matter a fact. How ironic?”

He said the last sentence with sarcasm and false happiness. You walked over to Josh and laid back in bed. You wrapped your arms around him.

“I'm sorry, Josh. I... Can I ask you something? About last night?”

“Of course, Y/N, what is it?” Josh looked at you with his arms around your waist. You both held each other as if it was the last time this would ever happen. You doubted that this was the past time but you couldn't help but want to be close to him. As close as you possibly could.

“Is it cool that I said all that? Is it cool that you're in my head? ‘Cause I know that it's delicate.”

Josh moved his face closer to yours. Your lips were only centimeters apart. You felt yourself longing for his lips to meet yours again.

“I think I should say something as well, lovely,” he gave you a quick kiss on your forehead and then the top of your nose and moved to kiss you on your lips. His eyes looked full of happiness and intimacy, “I think I want to be more than just friends.”

“Like... You want to be my boyfriend?”

“Hell yeah, love.”

“I think I would love that.”

“I'm very happy you feel that way. Now, let's go back to bed. It was a long night last night.”

“Agreed,” you said moving closer to Josh. He held you as close as he could and you both fell asleep comfortably with both of you by each other's side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jake;

“I'm sorry, the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now, why? Oh, ‘cause she's dead.”

I didn't even realize he was here. Not until I heard the familiar, annoying voice of his. I mean I should've known, it's his kid brother’s birthday.

“Oh, so Sammy invited you?” the long-haired boy asked you giving a sly smirk.

“Yes, I did, for your information. You do know I am one of Sammy's friends right?” you glared at the tall Kiszka in front of you.

Even though you knew Sam’s older brother for a long time since he was in a few classes when you were I'm school, you were also Sam’s friend. You've had a vendetta against him since Highschool and everyone around the two of you knew it. Including Jake.

“Well I guess I should say I'm not surprised you're here. You never really hung around other people, did you?” Jake spoke to me in a kicking tone. You knew exactly what he was trying to do to you. He did it every single time you were around.

“You know damn well none of what you say is going to work, right?” you told Jake, becoming more tense by the second.

“What do you mean, beautiful? I'm simply just trying to start a casual conversation with my kid brother’s friend.”

You looked up at him and saw that same mischievous look he had years ago when it first happened.

“Listen, Jake, I'm here celebrating Sam’s birthday and that's it. None of what happened before is going to happen ever again, got it?” you locked eyes with Jake and immediately regretted it, knowing now that you wouldn't be able to keep your own words.

“I'm here for Sammy just as much as you are, beautiful.”

You just rolled your eyes at his words knowing they were half true after he saw you walk into the house. It's playing out just like last time. You were supposed to hang out with Sam. Not his brother. You were supposed to celebrate with Sam. Not flirt or have sexual tension with his brother. You knew what Sam would be like if he saw this. He wouldn't be mad, he would be upset that you didn't tell him. But what else we're you supposed to say? That you and Jake have been hooking up since you were both 18? That every time one of you gets into a relationship the other gets jealous and becomes overprotective yet neither of you would ever admit to wanting to date?

“Yeah, that's exactly what you would tell him.” you thought

“Maybe we should go somewhere private?” Jake asked you as your back was up against the wall. No one else was around and it was oddly silent. You and Jake were so close you could see every detail on his face that you hated yet worshiped at the same time. It was only until you heard Sam’s voice echo from down the hall calling your name.

Jake and you both moved away from one another as fast as possible, acting as if none of this ever happened.

“Hey, Sammy! What's up?” you asked trying to get the thoughts of Jake out of your mind.

“Was just wanting to know if you were up for a round of Mario Kart? Josh lost last round and he stomped away throwing a tantrum.”

You looked at Jake and noticed he was on his phone, obviously not paying attention to Sam or you. You figured Jake was done with the teasing for that night and accepted Sam’s offer. But when you started to walk away you saw Jake look up with a hint of... Sadness in his eyes? That one was new.

After about three rounds of Sam beating you at Mario Kart, you went into the kitchen to get a drink.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” you turned around and saw Jake behind you.

“What do you want, Jake?” you asked glaring at him as you poured yourself a drink.

“I want to tell you something. Can we go outside?” he looked much more serious than usual and figured he wasn't joking this time so you agreed.

You both went onto the back porch and sat on the bench.

“So...” you didn't know what you were expecting him to say so you didn't know how to start this conversation, “what's up?”

“I... Look, I know I'm a dick sometimes,” You gave him a look that made him correct himself, “Okay, a lot of the time, but I want to tell you that I'm sorry. For being just a hook-up and whenever I see that you're happy with some other person, I get jealous. Because I wish that other person was me. Y/N, I want to be more than just casual a hookup at events or parties. I want to be your boyfriend and It took me a while to say something, I know, but please just consider it?”

You looked at him with complete shock. You definitely weren't expecting that.

You took Jake’s hand and held it tightly in yours, “Jake, I'm sorry too. I've also been a dick. I actually feel the same way whenever I see you with someone who isn't me... I think I'll consider your offer if you're still okay with it?”

Jake started to smile. Not the usual mischievous one that you see all the time, a smile that is real. One that's full of joy and pure bliss. You couldn't believe you said that you felt the same way as someone you say you hate is smiling because of you and in a good way. You were shocked.

You were put out of your trance when you heard Jake talking again, “I know you said you wouldn't, but, do you want to finish what we started earlier?”

You looked at him and felt your cheeks go red, “Of course, I do but what about Sam? That's my main concern.”

“He'll be fine, beautiful... Let's go up to my room, shall we?”

Jake stood up and put his hand out waiting for you to grab it. You were hesitant at first, thinking of all the ways this could go but you took his hand anyways letting your instincts overtake your conscious.

Jake and you snuck up to his room as quiet as possible, which seemed to work since Josh, Sam, and Danny we're yelling about Mario Kart still.

When you and Jake got up to his room, you immediately started making out. There was still so much passion in your kiss but it was less angry. It was rough and wild but sweet at the same time.

Jake and you moved onto the bed and kept going until there was a knock at the door. Jake and you immediately looked at the door with fear and got up. Jake looked at the door and then whispered, “I locked the door, don't worry.”

“Well, then why'd you freak out too?” you whispered back to him.

“Because I forgot and I wasn't expecting someone to come up here!”

You both heard a knock on the door again and then Josh’s voice came through, “Yo, Jakey, Sam says it's cake time! Also, have you seen Y/N? We haven't seen them in a minute.”

Jake looked at you and the to the door frantically before saying anything. He started to stumble over his words but eventually spoke.

“Uh nope. Haven't seen them in a while... But I'm sure Y/N will appear somewhere so I wouldn't worry. I'll be right down by the way!”

“Okay well hurry up! You know how impatient Sammy is.”

“Yup,” Jake said giving a sigh of relief, “be down soon!

When you both were sure no one was there Jake and you started bursting out laughing.

“You know what you should've said?” you asked Jake as you gave him another kiss.

“And what's that?” he responded smiling at you.

“Sorry, the old Taylor Y/N can't come to the phone right now, why? Oh, ‘cause she's dead!”

“Oh, so you wanted me to tell them that you're dead? Pull a whole Taylor Swift?” Jake asked laughing.

You followed after him with a laugh and shook your head, “No, I just thought it was funny.”

“You're quite the comedian huh?” Jake pulled you into a hug and rested his head on yours for a couple of minutes.

“C’mon, lovebird, let's hurry up before they think I actually died or some shit like that,” you told him, pulling away from his warm hug.

“That sounds like an amazing idea, beautiful.” He said giving you one last kiss before you went downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy;

“And I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way, but what can I say? You’re gorgeous.”

“No, Sam, you don't need to say anything!” You spoke loudly raising your voice.

You didn't think he had it in him to go off and dance with someone else. It sounded idiotic to you at the time. He was just a friend.

He invited you to be his plus-one for Josh and Jake’s birthday party but all that he did was go and talk to some other girl. You knew your feelings towards him. How he made your mind spiral with thoughts that keep you up at night. How he made your knees buckle up every time his hand brushed against yours.

Sam’s once quiet and soft voice was now louder and stern as he said, “Why are you so upset about who I talk to, Y/N? It’s not like we’re dating or some shit!”

His words cut deep into you right as he said them. You could feel your eyes tear up as he said that.

He was right of course, you weren't dating but everyone, including him, knew how you felt. You never said out loud that you like Sam in a way more than a friend should but the way you act around him, everyone knows it.

You felt warm drops of water trickle down your cheeks and you saw Sam’s face soften when he realized what he just said.

“Y/N, I didn't me-” he tried walking over to you but you pulled away, sensitive to his touch. You wanted more than anything to fall into his arms and be reassured by Sam how much you meant to him but it would hurt too much. You knew that nothing between you two would ever happen. You were just a friend to him and that’s all you ever would be.

“Sam, please,” you choked back your tears as your voice cracked, “I can't be around you right now.”

“Please, Y/N, I didn't mean it.” his eyes looked at you desperately as he stood there. You could see his eyes become glossy with held-back tears. You couldn't stand seeing him this way. He looked so lost.

“Sam,” you rubbed your eyes and took a couple steps closer to him, “I'm going to be honest with you. What you said hurt. When you asked me to be your plus one and decided to go chat with another girl, that hurt. And I'm so furious at you for making me feel this way, but what can I say? You're gorgeous.”

“What?” his face went from lost too sad to confused. He wasn't understanding what you said. You didn't even realize what you said until you said it.

“I love you, Sam. I have for a long time and I know damn well that you don't give a fuck but at least don't invite me as your plus one to a party and then go off with someone else.”

“You... What?”

“I-”

“No,” he cut you off. His voice was stern again. It wasn't the voice he had earlier but much more familiar, sweeter than before, “No, I know what you said I’m just trying take it all in, you know? I mean it’s not everyday that the one person who you’ve been wanting to be with for a long time say’s they love you.”

“Sam? What do you mean?” Now you were the one who looked lost and confused. He walked towards you and started to run one hand through your hair as the other cupped your cheek.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he looked sincere and that look he always had around you came back. The soft, kind, loving look you always adored.

“Yes, Sammy,” you replied moving in closer towards him.

When his lips met yours you could feel all of the anxious thoughts and every bad moment you had left. It was a passionate kiss that you know you'd never forget for as long as you live. Sam was soft but sensual with the kiss and his lips were like velvet, soft and warm. You didn't want this moment between you two to end. But just like that it did and you were pulled back to reality.

“Maybe we should go back to my place?” Sam asked you, still keeping your lips in reach of his pink, sultry lips.

“Yeah, I would love too.” you responded giving him another quick kiss before you took his hand and walked out to his car.

“You know,” Sam started to say as he turned on the car, “I'm kind of happy we had that argument.”

You gave a small laugh, “And whys that?”

“Cus then I don't think I'd ever have enough courage to kiss you if it wasn't for “living in the moment” or what ever the fuck Jake and Josh tell me to do.”

Sam gave a wide smile at you and you couldn't help but smile back. A real smile. One that was full of love and happiness.

“Well, I'm glad you were able to listen to your older brothers.” you told him as he drove you two back to his house.

“Me too, doll.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny;

“Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try. And if I get burned, at least we were electrified.”

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him. His long, curly hair and the beautiful features on his face that made him look like he was sculpted by God himself. He was the one guy you've ever felt was certainly the one.

Your boyfriend, Danny, walked over to you with two drinks in his hands.

“Here you go, Darling,” he handed you a cup of white champagne and gave you a warm smile, “You enjoying the party?”

“Yeah! I'm having lots of fun!” you said returning the soft smile Danny gave you with one of your own.

“Are you sure?” Danny looked at you curiously, he continued to say how you two could leave if you really wanted to but you denied his sweet offer telling him you were certain that you were enjoying yourself.

“You know,” he said letting out a small sigh, “I am getting quite bored... Maybe we can head home?”

“Danny,” you said looking at the handsome man in front of you, “I promise you, I'm perfectly fine staying here.”

“I'm just saying, Darling, that I'm quite bored and did I tell you stunning you look in your dress?”

“No, Danny, I don't think you did... Maybe you should say it again.” you leaned your head against Danny’s chest as he had his arm around your shoulders.

Danny leaned down and whispered in your ear, “you look perfect, Darling.”

There was back-and-forth teasing between you and Danny for about 20 minutes before Danny brought up going back home again. You said “fuck it” and Danny led you out to the car as he said goodbye to everyone at the party.

When you got to Danny’s the house he led you straight to his room.

As Danny sat down on his bed, you straddled his lap and started to kiss him. His lips were soft and familiar. You've been in this position so many times.

You and Danny have been dating for about five months and never did anything past making out once in a while. You both decided you would take things slow and when you two have sex, it's natural and not planned. But this time, it felt right. You felt like this was the right moment.

“Danny,” you said breaking the kiss between the two of you, “I want to do it. I'm ready.”

“What?” Danny looked at you with lust in his eyes as he was slightly panting trying to get his breath back after the deep kiss that you just shared.

“Please, Danny. I want you.” you gave him kisses all along his neck and back to his lips.

“Are you sure? Because I'm totally okay with it but if you aren't-”

You cut him off with another heated kiss and broke it to say, “Yes. Please just do it already.”

Danny started to take your dress off and kissed all of you that laid bare to him.

The night continued to be full of unforgettable moments between the two of you.

After the two of you finished and cleaned up, Danny said, “I’m not ever going to regret this. I hope you know how happy I am to be with you, Y/N.”

“Of course, I know, Danny. You love me and I love you.” you gave him a short kiss on his lips that revealed a shy, flustered smile with Danny’s cheeks getting a hint of pink in them.

“What if we ever... You know, break up?” Danny looked worryingly at you.

“I doubt that will ever happen, Danny. But in the case it does, just know I'm inescapable, I'm not even gonna try. And if I get burned, at least we were electrified.”

Danny's response to that was showering you with kisses that ended in him and you having a laughing fit.

“I love you, Y/N. So, so much.”

“I love you too, Danny.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Josh and Sam's mood boards as well as the stories made by; me

Danny and Jake’s mood boards made by my friend; @radyouthcherryblossom

So I honestly tried with this. Was it the best? No. But it still was somewhat cute :)