#you just know angel would fold like a deck chair

[iwozlegit]

Incorrect Huskerdust quotes

Angel: I can rub your tummy…

Husk: (drunk af) How’d you like to rub it from the inside, Spider boy?

Angel:

(Source: Stuart Little)

[capseycartwright]

if you're looking for love, wait and you'll find me

buck joins eddie and christopher at the beach, and he and eddie have a conversation about sperm donation, fatherhood, and the importance of honesty.

a 6x07 coda of sorts.

ao3 link

The salt felt crisp, in Eddie’s hair as he sat, the Pacific Ocean stretching on as far as the eye could see in front of him. He had never been much of a beach person – but he was realising, in the years since he’d moved to Los Angeles, that he’d never had much of an opportunity to be a beach person. There was something indescribably relaxing about the way the waves lapped against the shore, the sound a gentle backing track to the day, families slowly packing up for the day as the afternoon turned to the evening.

Eddie had time.

That was something he was still getting used to – giving himself time and allowing himself to enjoy the slow afternoons he got to share with his son like this. Christopher was happily playing in the sand, his curls still wet from his latest dip in the sea, and Eddie didn’t have the heart to end their day out just yet: not when his son was laughing and the sun was, well, not so high in the sky anymore, but not quite touching the horizon yet, the water golden as the sun made its descent.

“Hi.”

Eddie twisted in his chair, squinting as he realised it was Buck – his friend towering over Eddie and his set of deck chairs. “Hi,” he returned. Eddie was – well, he liked to think he was fluent, in Buck, these days, and Buck definitely seemed quiet, turned in on himself as he settled, trying to fold his miles of leg underneath him, collapsing – rather gracelessly – into the striped chair. “I didn’t think you were going to join us,” he gestured vaguely toward the setting sun. Eddie had told Buck that morning that he was planning to take Christopher to the beach – those first few times, after the tsunami, Christopher would only go if Buck was there. He’d progressed past that, healed, Eddie knew, but that didn’t mean the invitation wasn’t always extended to his best friend.

Eddie could admit he – and his son – were generally happier when Buck was around.

“I almost didn’t,” Buck admitted, slumping in his chair. He looked tired – and the red-rimmed eyes he was sporting made Eddie think that Buck hadn’t exactly had the best day, since their shift had ended that morning.

“What made you change your mind?” Eddie asked, nudging a bottle of water toward Buck. He looked like he needed something stronger, frankly, but Eddie’s cooler could only offer water, and juice boxes. Maybe – maybe a juice box, would be better, Eddie decided, taking advantage of Buck’s lack of attention to root in the cooler, pressing a mango juice box into Buck’s confused hands. “You look like you need sugar,” he said, by way of explanation.

Buck gave him a grateful smile. It was endearingly hilarious, Eddie decided, to watch a grown man – and a particularly large grown man, at that – unwrap the tiny straw that came with the juice boxes Christopher favoured, massive hands stabbing the tiny, delicate straw into the top of the pouch. Buck took a sip, and then another, and then one more, before he finally spoke.

“I needed a friend,” he explained. “Whenever my head feels like this, you’re the only person I want to talk to.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his heart swelled a little, in his chest. There was something so special about the way Buck so casually affirmed the importance of having Eddie in his life – it made Eddie feel needed, and purposeful, in ways he was only beginning to understand the reasoning for. Being a father – it had always given Eddie a purpose, even when he wasn’t ready for it – but his relationship with Buck was different. It was a different kind of purpose, and one he hoped he would get to have for the rest of his life.

But – that was a conversation for a different day.

“You know you can always talk to me,” Eddie reminded -  because he knew, from personal experience, sometimes you needed reminding that even those closest to you were still willing to listen. You didn’t always believe it when you were having a tough time. Eddie knew that too.

“Are you mad, that I spoke to Hen, and not you?” Buck’s tone was almost childlike.

“No,” Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Buck squirmed in his chair, the metal squeaking. “I always talk to you.”

“You do,” Eddie hummed. “Eventually,” he grinned. “I know you’ll talk to me when you’re ready. I figured – well, I figured there was a reason you went to Hen first. You are allowed to have other friends, remember?” he knocked his ankle against Buck, managing to rouse a smile from the other man.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea, to be a sperm donor?” Buck asked – straight to the point, then. Eddie had wondered – sometimes, Buck was prone to talking around the root of the problem for ages, leaving Eddie to have to dig, and dig, to find out what was really wrong.

“No,” Eddie said, definitive. “I think it’s a beautiful thing, to want to help someone who is struggling to conceive. It – it’s a really selfless thing to do, whether its for someone you know, or strangers. I know that if I was in Connor’s position, I’d be really grateful for what you’re doing. It’s – it’s a good thing to do.”

“But?”

“There’s no but,” Eddie shrugged. “Sperm donation – egg donation – it’s all a really cool thing to do. Being a dad,” he glanced toward Christopher, who was still happily entertained by the castle he was making. Eddie sort of never wanted him to grow up. “Is the greatest privilege of my life. Wanting to help give someone that, give them a child – that’s an incredible thing to do, for anyone.”

Buck pulled a face. “There still feels like there’s a but coming, Eddie.”

Not a but, no – a consideration. That’s what Eddie would explain it as if Buck asked.

“I know you’ve considered – and gone through – the physical side of things, and how that might affect you,” Eddie paused. “But have you considered the mental impact of doing this? The – well, the emotional affect it’ll have on you, it’s more significant than I think you’ve given it credit for, Buck. I admire the fact you want to help – but I don’t want you to hurt yourself in the name of helping someone else.”

Buck was quiet, for a second. “Hen asked, if I was ready to be a father, and walk away,” he parroted. “And that – that’s kind of what this is, isn’t it? I’ll be a father, genetically at least, but I won’t be a part of the kid’s life: aside from being the fun uncle they see once every couple of years.”

“Do you think you could handle being the fun uncle, knowing that the kid is biologically a part of you?”

“Jeez – ask the hard questions why don’t you?”

Eddie grinned. “That’s why you’re talking to me, Buck.”

“I – I know that family is so much more than biology,” Buck said, Eddie not missing the quick, darting glance that Buck made in Christopher’s direction. “I know that, I really do. My biological parents – they’re shit, you know that. I know that family is about people who love you, really, truly love you, despite everything you are, and aren’t.”

“But?” Eddie prompted – because there was definitely a but, he knew that much.

“But,” Buck offered Eddie a soft, sad smile. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to deal with knowing there’s a kid walking around in the world with my DNA who’s life I don’t have any part in. You know?”

Eddie knew. Eddie didn’t know everything – but he knew Buck, and he knew the kind of person that Buck was, and he knew first-hand the kind of father that Buck was. From the moment he’d become a part of Christopher’s life, Buck had been dedicated, and interested, giving up evenings and weekends for all sorts of school and kid related activities. He’d done all that for Eddie’s kid – long before Eddie’s kid was their kid – and so Eddie knew what kind of father Buck would be.

And he knew that was why it was probably a bad idea for Buck, specifically Buck, to be a sperm donor.

“You need to tell Connor, and his wife,” Eddie tried to be gentle, as he spoke – he didn’t want to sound as though he was berating Buck for anything. He sort of knew why Buck was so insistent on helping his friend, even at the determinant of his own well-being. That was just who Buck was.

“How? How can I tell them that I – that I don’t think I can do this, after promising them I could help them?” Buck sounded frustrated, upset as he shook his head.

“You have to be honest with them,” Eddie urged. “Buck – listen, they’re in a rough spot, and I get that you want to help them, but there are other ways for them. Okay? There are other people they could ask – there’s anonymous sperm donors. It’ll be okay.”

“I just – they asked me,” Buck managed, his bottom lip quivering in that same way that Christopher’s did, when he was on the verge of tears. It was funny, really, how parenting worked – Christopher wasn’t biologically Buck’s, and by many people’s standards, that meant he wasn’t his father: but Eddie could see Buck in his son more and more every day, in the way Christopher was bright, and silly, and kind – and in the way that his lip wobbled just like Buck’s was doing now.

“And that – that’s an honour,” Eddie reassured. “But it doesn’t mean you’re obliged to do it, Buck.”

Buck was quiet, for a minute. “I just – I guess that if I can’t have what I want, I thought I could help give it to them.”

Eddie sort of wanted to yell – to turn to Buck and promise him that he did have everything he wanted, and it was right there on Santa Monica beach: he had Christopher, he had a son, and he had Eddie. God – did he have Eddie. He was welcome to have Eddie in any way he wanted, and Eddie wished – and wished, and wished – that Buck wanted Eddie the way that Eddie wanted him, rings on fingers and whispered ‘I love yous’ pressed into every inch of each other’s skin, but Eddie knew this wasn’t the right moment for this conversation.

Buck wasn’t ready – even if Eddie himself might be.

“You need to be honest with yourself,” Eddie said. “And then you need to be honest with Connor, and Kameron. Before it’s too late.”

Buck chewed on the side of his mouth, nodding, furiously blinking as he tried to hold back his tears. “Not today though. Right?” he sounded childlike, as he spoke, holding tightly to his half-empty juice box.

Eddie glanced out at the horizon, the sun a little closer to the horizon – but not quite there yet, the sea sparkling warm and golden. “No, not today,” he hummed in agreement. “Today – I think we can just stay here a little while longer.”

They had time; Eddie knew.

(Of course they did –

It wasn’t their time yet, but their time was coming soon, Eddie knew, and once the sun finally set beyond the horizon, they’d be one day closer. And that was enough for now.)

[handsomelyhiddleston]

The Cabin - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader (Part 2/3)

Part 1

You woke up as the movie credits were scrolling. The kiddos were all still asleep strewn about the den. Looking at the clock, you realized it was about lunch time.

Walking into the kitchen, you saw Lisa sorting out the food that needed to go to the grill while one of Chris’ sisters was working on making some side dishes. “Anything I can help with?” You walked to the coffee maker to make a second cup of coffee.

“I think we’ve got everything sorted” Lisa answered. “Can you bring these out to the guys?” She was holding a large tin pan full of hot dogs, hamburgers, and veggie burgers.

“Of course.” You answered, holding your coffee in a way that let you grab the pan. “Do you mind opening the door?”

Chris’ sister hurried to the door, sliding it open.

“Thank you” you said, heading down the wooden deck to where the guys were sat by the grill.

“Look who’s awake” Chris teased, jogging to you to take the pan.

“I have to say, I needed that nap.” You laughed, following Chris to the grill.

“Are the kids still passed out?” Scott asked, watching you take a seat next to Tom. Chris started grilling the food.

“Yup” you answered. “I restarted the movie so they’d have the background noise.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom asked, seeing you were still in your fuzzy socks and sweater.

You shrugged, sipping your coffee. “I’m good for now. Anyone know what the plans are for the rest of the day?”

“Food. Probably hit the store in a bit. I think jetlag is gonna hit everyone harder than they think” Chris laughed.

“We should go get stuff for drinks after lunch” Scott suggested.

“I’m in. We should get a list from your mom of anything else she thinks we’ll need right away” you replied.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Tom asked, looking between you and Scott.

“Of course, not” you answered, shivering a bit as the cold soaked through your sweater.

“Scott, can you go grab a pan for the cooked meat” Chris asked.

“Sure thing” Scott answered, getting up.

“Can you grab the blanket by the door?” you called out as he walked towards the cabin.

“God, do I have to do everything around here” Scott teased in a dramatic voice, making the rest of you laugh.

“Would you like my jacket?” Tom asked as you took another sip of your coffee.

You turned to look at him and shook your head no, a soft smile on your face.

When your gaze lingered a bit longer than one would call socially acceptable, Tom’s cheeks turned pink. “Do I have something on my face?”

You laughed. “No, you’re just…hear me out…like, if I were to write a perfect gentleman into whatever story I’m writing…I think that’s you…you check all of the boxes.”

Tom smiled and cleared his throat. “If I may ask, is that a compliment or are you trying to gently inform me that I’m incredibly boring.”

Chris let out a loud laugh, which prompted both of you to laugh. “I meant it as the highest compliment” you assured him.

“Well, in that case, I’m extremely flattered.” Tom replied, lifting his arm and prompting you to fill the small gap between the two of you. When you’d scooted against his side, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

When Scott returned, he tossed the blanket over both of your laps, going to stand by the grill with Chris. By the way they would take turns glancing back at you and Tom, you assumed they were talking about you.

“Chris mentioned that you do some sort of writing or consulting outside of your books.” Tom said, simply wanting to get to know you better.

You laughed, knowing that it drove Chris crazy not knowing what else you did for work. “Well, that’s accurate.”

“Is it safe to assume you won’t tell me what it is?” Tom smirked.

“I mean, never say never” you replied, looking up at Tom.

“Well, if I can’t know what else you do for work, what do you do for fun?” He continued, the two of you chatting until it was time to go inside to eat.

It felt good to have the cabin full of people. Chris’ family and a few of their family friends, including you and Tom, spent the next hour eating, laughing, and telling embarrassing stories about each other as you do when you’ve got the whole family together.

You were banished from the kitchen when you’d tried to help with the dishes. “You and the boys go do your shopping, we’ll clean up” Lisa said, handing you a short list and shooing you away.

“Now I know where Chris gets his stubbornness” you teased, hearing Lisa laugh as you left the kitchen.

You climbed the stairs, stopping at Chris and Tom’s rooms, both of them sitting in Chris’ room with Scott. “You guys ready to go?”

“Just waiting for you” Scott replied.

“Let me grab my jacket and my shoes and I’ll meet you guys’ downstairs.” When you made it outside, Chris already had your SUV started, letting the heating warm up.

“Mind if I drive?” he hollered out the window.

You shook your head no, walking around to the side of the truck and climbing into the back seat next to Tom. Scott was sat up front in the passenger seat. “I’ve got the list from your mom.”

“Then we are ready to rock n roll” Chris said, looking in the various mirrors to make sure it was safe to back-up.

Chris drove around the town for a while. He drove down a few scenic roads showing Tom the beautiful landmarks. When he saw a perfect, untouched patch of snow he insisted the four of you make snow angels. Of course, he made sure to get a picture of everyone laying in their angel.

Next stop was the liquor store. You pushed the cart around with Tom as Scott and Chris added various bottles and pre-made beverages to the cart.

“Y/n!” you heard Scott call from a few aisles over.

“Yes?” you laughed, looking to see if he was going to pop around the corner.

“Do you have a beer pong table?” It was Chris’ voice you heard this time.

You and Tom laughed at the brothers. “No” you answered.

“If I had to bet, I’d say that you’re about to be the proud owner of a brand-new beer pong table.” Tom laughed, walking with you towards the front of the store.

When you rounded the corner, you saw the brothers walking towards you. Scott had a fold-up beer pong table in his hands and Chris had two cases of White Claw and a bag of red solo cups in his.

“White Claw?” you laughed.

“Less calories than beer means that I have to spend less time at the gym while I’m here.” Chris replied, putting everything in the cart. “Speaking of, Tom do you want to work out with me in the mornings?”

“Absolutely” Tom replied. “I was a bit nervous to go running with all of the ice and snow.”

“I’d be more worried about the bears” you said, watching his eyes go wide.

“Now I’m extra glad that I didn’t try to run this morning” Tom said, following you as you pushed your cart to the front of store checkout. Chris pulled his card out before you could even offer to pay.

Next stop was the grocery store.

As Chris and Scott gathered the things on their mother’s shopping list, you took Tom to the baking aisle. “You mentioned that your family bakes when everyone gets together.”

“I did.” Tom smiled as he continued. “My mother and my sisters are usually baking some sort of sweet.”

“Well…” You gestured to the various options laid out in front of you. “What do you want to bake?”

“Really?” Tom asked, looking over at you.

“We can make pretty much anything” you answered. “I mean, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no. I do.” Tom replied, swallowing back a bit of emotion. “I just…I know we really only just met so you have no way of knowing any of the craziness that has been going on in my life.”

You could sense a bit of hesitation in Tom so you reached out and grabbed one of his hands in yours.

Tom smiled, his eyes watering a touch. “And I’m not complaining, I promise you. I’m grateful that I’ve been afforded so many opportunities. I just…I only got to see my family for 4 days all last year. Home is the one place I feel like I can completely be myself and relax and…Well, when I found out I wasn’t going to see my family on the one break I have for the next three months, I didn’t expect…”

When he stopped talking, you slid your arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug.

“I apologize.” He said, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sure a simple ‘thank you’ would have been a much more eloquent response.”

You could feel a light laugh rumble in his chest. “Don’t apologize.” You loosened your arms a bit to pull back from the hug.

Tom’s arms held you against himself for a moment before letting you go. “What is your favorite thing to bake?” he asked you.

You thought for a moment before answering. “Cookies.”

“Then I’d love to bake cookies with you” he replied, turning towards the various bags of chocolate chips.

“FYI” you said, grabbing a small bag of sugar and flour.

“Yes?” he put two different types of chocolate chips in the basket.

“I think anything you say in that accent sounds eloquent.” You pushed the cart further down the aisle to grab the oil. You could hear Tom laugh behind you.

“I’ll have to remember that.”

When the four of you got back to the car, Chris recommended picking up pizza for dinner since you guys had been gone a few hours.

“Just text your mom to make sure she isn’t already working on something.” You replied

When Chris got the green light on his pizza plans from Lisa, he placed the order over the phone and you guys picked it up on the way back to the cabin.

As everybody dug into the pizza, you took your baking supplies to the kitchen to tuck them away. You wanted to make sure that no one else used them before you could bake the cookies with Tom. Deciding to catch up on your work emails, you grabbed a slice of pizza and headed upstairs to your room. Sat at your desk with your headphones blasting your favorite music, you started replying to potential project proposals and questions your publishers had about your next works.

Because of your headphones, you didn’t hear Tom walk into your room about a half hour later. As he walked up to your desk, he was calling out your name not realizing you couldn’t hear him.

Standing behind your chair, he glanced at one of your computer screens, understanding what you’d been doing since you’d disappeared. What he didn’t expect, though, was what project you were currently emailing about.

See, most of the people that knew you as an author knew you wrote books in the same category as Hunger Games or Beautiful Creatures…Well, having the ability to hide completely behind an anonymous pen name let you venture into some projects that you deemed a bit more…fun? Maybe spicy is the right word.

Feeling bad for accidentally snooping, Tom put his hand on your shoulder to get your attention, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You threw your headphones off and turned in your chair, your heart going a million miles an hour.

Tom was stood there trying not to laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

“OH, dear god” you laughed, laying your hand over your heart and leaning back in your chair. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

“I was meant to come and tell you the brothers want to play beer pong, but I think they can wait a bit longer.” Tom said with a grin on his face.

You tilted your head to the side, confused as to what Tom meant. “That sounds both ominous and sexy” you laughed.

Tom chuckled and turned your chair back to face your computer. “Mind telling me what project you’ve got coming up?”

“Now it makes more sense” you continued laughing. On your screen was the proposed cover of your new book in an email you were replying to. You leaned your chair back so you were looking at Tom upside down. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I’m a bit offended that you think I can’t” Tom answered.

“You asked for it” you replied, standing up and walking over to your door. Sliding the lock in place, you walked to your closet, turning to Tom. “You coming?”

Tom opened his mouth to speak and paused, choosing to simply nod and follow.

Walking to the back of your closet, you pushed your clothes to the side and opened another door. This was your writing room. Specifically, for your ‘adult’ books.

You’d covered the walls in inspiration, essentially. In addition to your mainstream ‘young adult’ or ‘new adult’ novels, you wrote adult books…erotica…but your books were very inclusive. They featured various orientations, gendered pairings, gender identities, ethnicities, body shapes, body sizes, and various forms of being differently abled. Your walls were covered in artwork that featured real bodies in all of their various forms.

“So, this is your secret career?” Tom asked, looking at all of the various things hung on the walls.

“One of them” you answered, opening a cabinet full of dozens of books.

As Tom sorted through them, he understood your niche. “I think this is brilliant” he said, staring at you with an eye crinkling smile.

“Thanks” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm. “I don’t know how I thought you were going to react, but that definitely wasn’t it.”

“I mean it” he replied, continuing to look at the various books. “I love storytelling. Obviously, it’s a huge reason why I pursued acting. I love literature and music and many other various forms of art but acting has been my passion for so long. It’s only now that I’m realizing how narrow of a range that I’m personally capable of expressing.”

“Hey, that’s not true” you replied.

“That came out wrong” Tom turned to you. “What I meant to say was that as an actor I will never be able to personally tell many of these stories. Sex aside, obviously.” Tom lightly laughed.

“The only reason I was able to tell a lot of them was because I talked to and got to know people that had little to no representation IN these kinds of stories.” You pulled out a box of letters and printed emails. “When I started writing these books, I wrote for women that looked like me. Bigger women are rarely cast as the romantic lead, in literature or on screen. When we are, we have to go through some stupid ‘worthless to worthy’ journey where a ‘special kind of man’ swoops in to complete us and convince us we deserve love. We’re never just allowed to happily exist AND have a happy ever after.”

When you turned to look at Tom, he caught you off guard by roughly pressing his lips against yours as his hands held either side of your face. When he pulled back, his hands lingered a moment longer. “I do apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He cleared his throat and turned back to the box you had pulled out. “Please, go on.”

You stared at him a moment longer, trying to gather your thoughts before turning back to the letters. “What I was saying before you so delightfully interrupted me…” You glanced at him, seeing him lick his bottom lip as he smiled. “Under my pen name, I run a page online. People send me their personal stories, fantasies, questions, worries…These people come in more than just various shapes and sizes. Some of them are in wheelchairs or are not as able bodied as you and me. I have a woman with Tourette’s who shares stories about her sex life and romantic life with her wife while living with her various tics. I just saw that someone started a new forum for people who have had mastectomies. When I go to write a story that represents something I can’t personally speak to, I talk to those that can. I get permission to even attempt to represent them. Sex is the easiest part of these to write. I feel responsible to do right by them and to translate the truth of their experience into a bit of romantic escapism. If they want to, everyone should be able to find characters they can relate to.”

“I think that what you’ve done is really, quite incredible.” Tom complimented you.

“Thank you” you replied, chuckling. “It’s weird getting compliments for essentially writing porn.”

Tom laughed, turning one of the books over in his hand. “Am I allowed to read any of them?”

“Go for it” you replied. “You just cannot tell Chris about any of this. At all. Pinky promise?” You extended your pinky towards Tom.

With a very serious face, Tom hooked his pinky in yours and answered. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“We should probably go downstairs. Chris and Scott are probably wondering why the hell we’re taking so long” you laughed, walking out of your writing room.

Tom turned to grab a book before following you out, closing the door on his way. “I’m going to tuck this in my bag in my room.”

“I’ll meet you down there.” When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you saw Scott and Chris practicing their aim with no beer in the cups. “Who against who?”

“Us against you two, obviously” Chris answered, Scott switching to stand on the same side of the table as Chris.

“Oh, it’s like that?” you laughed, opening two of the cans and filling your cups.

“You guys don’t stand a chance” Scott added. “Has Tom ever even played beer pong?”

“I have, actually” he answered, coming down the stairs.

“Then let’s see what you got!” Chris teased, acting like a total frat boy.

The four of you played quite a few rounds before your lack of sleep and buzz from the alcohol finally got the better of you.

“I’m calling it quits” you said, covering your mouth as you yawned.

“I should probably go to bed too since I’m setting an alarm for 6 am to go work out” Chris pouted, letting his head fall back.

“I’ll set mine as well” Tom added.

“You guys are so boring” Scott teased, starting to clean up the cups.

You grabbed the cups from yours and Tom’s side as well as all of the empty cans and started walking towards the kitchen to throw them away.

“I’ll grab those” Tom said, taking the cups from Scott and following you into the kitchen.

You dumped the cups and cans in the trash and turned to see Tom walking in with the rest of them. “Thanks.”

Tom dropped the cups into the trash and turned to you. “About earlier…”

“About that…” you smiled, half asleep and tipsy. You loosely wrapped your arms around Tom’s middle. “Want to explain yourself?”

Tom chuckled. “I think my actions were self-explanatory.” He placed one hand on your cheek, the other pushing your hair out of your face.

“I don’t know” you teased. “I think I need further explanation.”

“Explanation or demonstration?” Tom asked, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You pretended to be considering the two options for only a few seconds before his lips were against yours again.

“Y/n!” Scott called. You could hear him and Chris talking just around the corner.

You felt like two teenagers being caught by parents. You and Tom broke apart, both scrambling to be pretending to do something else. He ended up pulling the trash bag out of the bin and tying it up even though it could clearly hold more trash and you ended up unloading the dishwasher.

“What happened to going to bed?” Chris asked, confused as to why you two were doing chores.

“I’m going” you replied. “I just didn’t want your mom to have to do this in the morning.”

“Well then you should have asked for help” Chris replied, helping you finish unloading the dishes. Scott started wiping down the counters and refilled the paper towels. Tom tried to hide the smirk on his face as he took the trash to the outside bin, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m going to bed for real this time” you said, putting the last glass away.

When you woke up the next morning you could hear someone in your shower. Part of you hoped that maybe Tom had come up to use yours since him and Chris would both want to shower after coming back from the gym.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Chris said, interrupting your short daydream about a very sweaty Tom walking into your room after working out.

“Oh, it’s just you” you teased him, turning over and snuggling back into your bed.

“Damn, someone woke up in a mood” Chris teased back, walking toward your bed with a towel wrapped around his bottom half. “You hoping it was someone else?”

“A girl can dream” you turned over to smirk at him.

“Are you two a thing?” He asked, dropping down to lay in your bed.

“I don’t know” you answered honestly.

“Do you like him?” Chris continued, laughing when you blushed.

“I mean, I haven’t exactly gotten to know everything about him, but I think he’s kind of great.” You replied.

“Well, for what it’s worth I approve” he said, rolling back out of your bed and heading downstairs to get dressed.

Part 3

[tearsofgrace]

eternity with you

that’s right. 12 days after the gd finale aired i finally wrote a mf coda

wc: 2.1k, tags: john winchester’s a+ parenting, angst, but happy ending, love confessions, first kiss

edit: thanks @fandomstuff67 for the title you queen

also on archive

“Cas helped,” Bobby said with a smile, looking over at Dean to catch his reaction.

Dean felt a jolt of electricity run through him, and he fought to control his face. He was in Heaven now. Cas was in Heaven now. He gulped, trying to stop the shaking.

“He’s-” he started. He couldn’t say it. Otherwise it might slip away. He’d hadn’t even mentioned Cas’ name since it happened… it hurt too much. It hurt too much to think about what Cas had said. To think about how he’d just stood there, the world collapsing all around him.

“Cas is alive,” Bobby finished with a smile.

“Alive,” Dean repeated slowly, tasting the word on his tongue. Cas was alive. “Where?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Bobby raised an eyebrow and took another sip of beer. “Don’t know. Could be anywhere in Heaven. He and Jack don’t really stay in one place.”

Dean gulped again and nodded. He was sure he was being obvious… but at this point, what did it matter? He had to find Cas. He had to find Cas and tell him- well, and give him an answer. He had to explain why he hadn’t gotten him out while he was on Earth. Had to explain that he’d tried… even if Sam didn’t know.

“It’s a big, new world out there.” Bobby was still smiling, a peace in his eyes that Dean had rarely, if ever, seen when he was alive. “I guess the question is… what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

Find Cas, he thought immediately. But he didn’t say it. He hadn’t even processed the fact that Cas was gone yet, much less that he was in love with-

“I need to go see my folks,” he said through gritted teeth. Then he took a steadying breath and looked up from his beer to Bobby. “Then I’m gonna find Cas.” He held the older hunter’s gaze, almost challenging him to comment. But Bobby just smiled back at him and nodded.

“Well, you’ll need that then,” he said, nodding to the open field in front of them.

Even with his thoughts swirling and his heart still pounding in his chest, Dean couldn’t stop the smile that formed when he saw his Baby sitting ready and waiting. That was some consolation, at least. Some consolation for being separated from his brother, from his life, from the apple-pie job he’d been about to take. But there was no use dwelling on the past now. He was dead. And he wasn’t going back… not this time. So, he might as well put a few things to bed while he was here.

Slipping behind the wheel felt as safe as it always did. Baby hadn’t changed. Even the imperfections had stuck, and he was grateful for it. People always thought paradise meant perfection, but he didn’t think so. No, paradise was something else. It was acceptance. It was truth. It was family.

He waved goodbye to Bobby and pulled out onto the road, driving slowly to look for the house. He wasn’t surprised when he found it. It looked exactly like the old house in Lawrence. Complete with the tree in front.

His nerves started buzzing more as he walked up the long drive to the porch. He should just go find Cas now. This wasn’t important.

But before he could turn to leave, the door swung open and his mom was wrapping him in a giant hug, tears wet on her cheeks. She was younger than when he knew her. More like the Mary he’d seen when he was thrown into the past. She looked happier too. Free of the worries of the world.

“You made it,” she said simply, her arms still tight around him.

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. He held her tight, the tornado of emotions inside him threatening to break free. Then he looked up and saw the reason he was here. His heart nearly stopped, but by some heavenly miracle, it kept beating.

“Hey, Dad.”

John nodded, a smile breaking out over his youthful face. “Dean,” he managed, before going in for a hug.

Instinctively, Dean backed up, his hands held up defensively. He took another deep breath, glancing back to the car as if he still had a chance to run, and then turned to face John.

The smile had melted from his face and he folded his arms across his chest.

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. Maybe he was being stupid. Because it hadn’t really been that bad, right? He’d made it all up. His dad had been through a lot. He had every right to treat them like he did. And Dean had never measured up. Had never been good enough. That was on him.

That’s not who you are, Cas whispered in his ear. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look up.

“Mom, can you give us a minute?” His eyes never left John, but he saw her nod out of the corner of his eye before disappearing back into the house. John stepped outside and closed the door, gesturing to a set of deck chairs.

“We can stand,” Dean said, his voice already tight.

“What the hell is this about, boy?” His voice was low. More like the John Winchester that Dean remembered. More like the John Winchester that had been created when Mary died. Or, really, the John that had been there all along but had been hidden in empty promises and sweet nothings.

Dean clenched his fists, still hidden inside of his pockets, and forced himself to keep eye contact with his father. He was older than him here. His dad looked the same age as Mary, carefree even as his face slipped into a scowl. The youth didn’t make him any less intimidating. Didn’t stop memories of whiskey-fueled beatings from playing over and over in Dean’s head.

“You were wrong,” he said finally. His voice shook slightly, but he didn’t care. What was John going to do now? With Mary there, with them in Heaven… his hands were tied.

John snorted and leaned back against the doorframe. “About what?”

“I’m not worthless.” There was a lump in his throat now, but it was more from anger than anything else.

“Dean, let’s leave the past in the-”

“Shut up.”

John’s eyes widened and he took a step forward. When he spoke, his voice was even lower than before, shaking with anger. “What did you say to me?”

“I don’t owe you anything. You gave me nothing. But I needed to say that. Needed you to hear it. Because I finally know that you were wrong. All those years, all that pain… you were wrong.”

“You still talk like a goddamn fairy.”

Dean felt a shiver run down his spine but he held his ground. “Ever wonder why?” he spat.

“We’ve been over this, boy. Don’t tell me you forgot while I was away.” John took another step toward him, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall loosely at his sides.

Something shifted in Dean and some of the anger dissipated, replaced by confidence. Cas’ voice was still loud in his ear, telling him who he really was. Telling him this was okay. “You raised a faggot, John Winchester. Took me a long time to come around to it, too. But,” he shrugged, watching as his father’s eyes narrowed and his hands started to curl into tight fists, “I’m good with it now. I’m good with who I am. And, truthfully, I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

He saw the fist coming and ducked before taking a step backward.

“Something I gotta do,” he called as he walked away. “Tell Mom I love her. And I’ll be back.”

His heart was pounding in his chest but he didn’t dare look back. He knew if he did, he would crumple to the ground. His legs would just give out and he would take whatever punishment John deemed necessary. So he just walked. Got behind the wheel and tore away, his throat dry and his hands shaking but his heart at peace.

He drove for a while before he came back to his senses. Before what he’d done really sunk in. He could picture John talking to Mary, the disgust in his voice obvious. He honestly didn’t know what his mom would think. But at this point he didn’t care. There was only one thing on his mind. Only one infuriating angel he could think about. And he was here. Alive. In Heaven.

His hands were tight on the wheel as he pulled over to the side of the long road. It had gone through the forest for a while, but now it was hugging a beautiful coast line, the horizon seemingly miles away, the sun glittering off the waves.

Without thinking, he got out from the car and walked down the hill to the beach. He chose a rock on the edge of the sand to sit on, not wanting to venture further toward the ocean.

Then he closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. This was the easy part. He could do this.

“Cas,” he breathed into the empty air. Then he stopped. That was it. That was all he could say. Because he hadn’t said that name since- since Cas was taken. He hadn’t said that name since the angel had been standing in front of him, tear-streaked face filled with an expression of joy Dean had never seen before.

He tried to force more words out. But they just got caught in his throat, choking him until tears were filling his eyes and his breaths came in gasps.

Then, through his sobs, a familiar fluttering of wings rustled the air.

“Hello, Dean.”

All of his thoughts stopped. His mind was completely empty as he leapt from the rock facing the sea and whirled around to find Cas standing there, his expression blank.

Dean barely had time to take him in before he was crashing into him, his arms wrapping around the angel and holding him tightly to his chest. After a second, he remembered to breathe, and he took in Cas’ familiar scent that was now surrounding him.

“Dean,” Cas started as his arms came up from where they had been stiffly held at his sides to return the hug.

“Nope,” Dean said, his voice coming back. “You don’t get to talk.”

Reluctantly, he untangled himself from Cas’ arms, and looked into his eyes. He kept his hands on Cas’ shoulders, though, the touch grounding him.

There was fear in those blue eyes, but maybe hope too. Just a sliver of it.

Dean took another deep breath before letting the smile he had been holding back slip onto his face.

He shook his head, suddenly unable to stop the laughter bubbling in his stomach. “You asshole.”

Cas tilted his head and Dean’s laughter redoubled. He had thought he would be angry. Cas was alive, and he hadn’t even dropped in to let them know he was okay. But he didn’t care. Not in this moment. Because Cas was standing right in front of him. Cas was real.

The confusion on Cas’ face grew, his eyes squinting and his head tilting even further and suddenly Dean didn’t want to laugh anymore.

He surged forward, their lips meeting awkwardly as Cas stumbled backward. He held Cas tight to him, letting his hands drift upward into his hair, and finally Cas started kissing back.

When they pulled away for air, Cas’ expression was still guarded, though his defenses had started to slip away.

“I love you too, Cas.”

The rest of Cas’ walls fell down and he smiled. It wasn’t a huge smile, but it was better. It was soft, his eyes crinkled, and he looked at Dean like he was the most precious thing in the world.

There was too much to say. Too much to explain. Too many memories to relive. And they had all the time in the world. So Dean didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he slipped his hand into Cas’ and led him to the flat rock. He hopped up and patted the space next to him, waiting for Cas to get settled before he leaned onto his shoulder.

The sea air was everything he’d always imagined. Salty and fresh and calming.

The sun was hanging lower in the sky now. Like it knew they were here, watching it. Cas pulled Dean in tighter to him as they watched it slip lower down, colors exploding across the horizon.

The waves beat against the shore steadily and a breeze blew along with them, rustling Dean’s hair against Cas’ chin. They didn’t say anything that night. Just watched as the sunset faded into stars hanging over a sea of black.

They finally had what they’d never had on Earth. Time. And they were going to use every last second of it.

tag list below (ask to be added or removed) also when i was gone a lot of you changed your urls and idk what they are now so if you wanna drop me an ask w your new url feel free

 @menjiiii @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @dreamnovak @heller-jensen @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @prayedtoyou @good-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @starrynightdeancas @radiantdean @piemaker-from-gallifrey @on-a-bender @eshaninjer @trasherasswood @dreadful-delight @feraladoration @trenchcas @contemplativepancakes @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @thefourthheadofcerberus @seffersonjtarship @randomblabbling @craftywitchywoman @adsp-destielcockles @tehmanda @castielscrookedtrenchcoat @queen-rowenas @expectingtofly @that-one-fandom-chick @quicksilver-ships @destielle @charmedbycastiel @cursed-or-not @faithcastiel @internetintroverts @sloth-with-y-yo-a-ti-cas

[amerrierworld]

Kiss Her For Me (pt 3)

for anon: Kiss Her For Me pt 3?

Summary: Charlie appears at one of Therese’s gallery showings and Carol insists she pose for the photographer’s portfolio. 

Characters: Carol x Therese x OC

Word Count: 2,801

Warnings: SMUT F/F/F threesome :)

The giant crown of red hair was unmistakable across the gallery, and Therese gasped audibly as she recognized the woman in the distance. Carol had been distracted by looking at one of her framed prints and the glass of champagne in her hands, so she was startled when Therese’s grip in her hand tightened until her fingers hurt. 

“What is it, angel?” Carol asked, worried that Richard or some stupid oaf from Therese’s past had shown up.

“Look, Carol, over there,” Therese whispered, nodding to where she was looking.

Carol’s ruby lips pulled into a sly smile as she also recognized Charlotte standing by one of Therese’s larger photos; a colourful landscape from one of their trips together.

“How is she here?” Therese spluttered. They hadn’t seen Charlie since their last intimate night, and hadn’t had time to even think about going to Jackie’s strip club. 

“I have a feeling our dear Abigail has something to do with it,” Carol replied before tugging Therese along as she walked in Charlie’s direction. “Come on, it’s unfitting for the host not to welcome all guests.”

Charlie recognized them from afar before either woman said anything, and she rushed over, heels tapping the floor, before wrapping each of them in a warm hug.

“Therese! You never told me you were so talented! My goodness, Carol, where do you find them?”

Carol barked out a laugh and gave Charlie a warm kiss on the cheek, “I’m so happy to see you here, Charlotte. How did you know about Therese’s showing?”

“Oh, Abby, of course. Well, technically Jackie, but it’s basically like talking to the same person.”

All three of them agreed on that, before Therese asked her what she had been enjoying so far, nerves slowly dissipating as their conversation carried on.

“I must say- the portraits you’ve done? Marvellous!” Charlie gestured a little further away from them where Therese had a small cluster of intimate portraits of various models.

“If I had the money I’d ask you for a million photos, really! I desperately need new headshots, and what you manage to capture is just perfect.”

Therese frowned and said, “Oh, you wouldn’t have to pay me. I just like taking photos of people.”

“No- no, absolutely not. Work like this should be paid for, I don’t want to get away with it for free just because we’re... acquainted.”

Carol rolled her eyes lovingly and rubbed her thumb over Therese’s knuckles.

“Let Therese take some photos of you, Charlie. You’re beautiful and photogenic. I’m sure something could be... arranged between us, right angel?”

Therese flushed a bright red, and Charlie smiled from ear-to-ear,

“Only if you’d be a part of that arrangement, Carol.”

“Of course,” Carol grinned, bringing Therese’s hand up to her lips, “we come as a package deal.”

-

Charlotte appeared in a set of mom jeans and a giant knitted sweater that nearly slipped off of her slim shoulders. Therese coughed and felt herself nearly choke at the sight of her, and Carol chuckled, rubbing her back.

“Hey Carol,” Charlotte said warmly, waving at the blonde. In response, Carol tugged her close by the arm and kissed her firmly on the mouth. If Therese hadn’t been frozen in awe she would have raised her camera to take a picture.

“Is that what you’re planning to wear?” Therese asked, voice timid. She hadn’t counted on Charlie to look so cozy; lots of her looks had been fitted, seductive and feline thus far. 

“Oh, no,” Charlie replied cheekily. “Actually, I wasn’t planning on wearing anything at all.”

Carol barked a laugh at Therese, whose mouth dropped open.

“You’ve done nude portraits before, haven’t you, angel?” Carol asked, sensing Therese’s nerves.

“Well, yes, but- I’ve never-” I’ve never been so aroused by a model I’m shooting... except for Carol.

“Never photographed a redhead?” Charlotte winked, and adored the way Therese spluttered defensively. 

“I’ll show you where to drop your stuff. Let her get her cameras and doohickies set up,” Carol said, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist. She winked at the brunette before heading down the narrow hall and Therese did take a photo this time of the two women as they walked away. The lighting wasn’t right, and they were moving so there was bound to be blurriness, but this wasn’t for her portfolio. This was for her. 

Once in the changing room, Carol helped Charlie undress, folding her clothes neatly.

“This is a nice sweater,” she commented, rubbing her thumb over the soft grey material.

“Thanks,” Charlie chortled, applying a bit of gloss in the mirror. “It’s thrifted, actually. Do you work in the studio with Therese?”

“Oh, no,” Carol smiled, “I work at a furniture store a bit further in the city. But I figured our Therese might want some extra hands on deck considering she can get so.. tense.”

The redhead and blonde laughed gleefully at the memory of their bold yet shy Therese, the atmosphere amicable between them.

Carol held out a robe for Charlie to wear between shots, but the younger woman took her time in sauntering over to her, nude as the day she was born.

She reached past the bathrobe and fiddled with the collar on Carol’s blouse, making the blonde flush with heat as she bit her lip,

“You should pose with me,” she grinned. “As a treat for our Therese.”

Carol chuckled, “you young women are so bold sometimes. I’m far too ancient to pose for a camera nude.”

“I disagree,” Charlie hummed, before slipping on the robe and heading out again to the main studio space.

A large white backdrop was lit with a variety of coloured lights. Therese was playing with the settings, wondering if she should make it a dramatic, colourful portrait set-up, or something more clean and sharp.

She looked up at the sound of the two women approaching, and she had undone the top two buttons on her dress shirt.

“Where do you want me?” Charlie said, swaying her hips as she approached the photographer. Therese smiled, dimples highlighted in the lighting, and took Charlie’s hand with confidence.

Carol took a seat behind the tripod holding the camera, watching as Therese arranged the redhead on the ground by the backdrop. She guided her arm; draped her fingers over her knee, positioned her feet and knees with a professional touch, and Carol felt somehow heated at the sight of her becoming so in control.

“Let’s start with the robe on, first,” Therese suggested, heading towards where Carol was and fiddling one more time with the lights. 

“Not prepared for the full show yet?” Charlotte teased, relaxing into the pose Therese had put her in. 

“I just wanna give you a good introduction before we get there,” the brunette replied without hesitation and Carol smiled.

Therese snapped a few shots, enjoying her photography skills and the natural flair she had for directing Charlie’s poses. With every new pose, the robe slipped off a little more, and a bit more skin was revealed. The freckles were highlighted in the colours Therese chose, and her bright blue eyes really picked up on the photos.

Then, Therese told Carol to get some props, specifically the pale sheets and the small, white armchair with golden edges. When she returned, Charlie was fully nude, barely holding the robe against her chest, nipples peaking teasingly just by the edge of the fabric. Her legs, nimble and flexible, were stretched and folded in front of her, almost swan-like. 

She let Carol and Therese position the chair and draped her in the sheet, letting it slip off her shoulders, letting her leg peek through below, letting the valley of her breasts be shadowed dramatically as she leaned back and arched her whole body atop of the chair.

“Fuck,” Therese breathed as she stepped back. Carol could practically hear her heartbeat hammering, and the only sound for a while was the camera clicking and the shutter going off.

“It feels like you two have just been pampering me,” Charlie laughed, her head tossed back as Carol raked her hands through the curls to tame it a little. She wasn’t a professional assistant at all, didn’t know how to do hair or makeup, but she listened to Therese, and that seemed to satisfy everyone involved. 

“Don’t you think Carol’s been working really hard, Therese?” Charlie asked, her blue eyes flickering over to the blonde, who’s hand stilled in her hair. “Maybe she should pose with me. It’s only fair. Look how beautiful she is.”

Therese stopped shooting for a moment, and across the studio, grey eyes met green, and something fierce sparked between the two of them.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Therese said, her voice uncharacteristically husky, “Carol?”

“As long as this doesn’t land on the front page of the New York Times,” Carol teased, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

“Just the front page of our bedroom portfolio,” Therese grinned. Charlie gaped,

“You said you never would pose nude,” she said to Carol, accusingly.

“Never in such a professional space,” Carol replied, “and definitely not alongside someone else.”

“But I’m the exception?” Charlie pushed out her bottom lip lovingly and Carol smiled, but Therese was the one who replied,

“Always.”

Then Charlie began helping Carol undress, just like the blonde had done before, and also because Carol was nearly frozen with her mind racing. This beautiful woman, undressing her, as her lover stood by with a camera and a keen eye, ready to capture every moment, every touch, every kiss-

“Kiss her for me,” Therese ordered with a quiet mumble, raising the camera, “it’ll help relax her.”

“Now who’s tense, hm?” Charlotte said, before kissing Carol on the cheek. Her blouse was entirely unbuttoned, revealing a creamy lace bra.

“What would you like, dear Therese?” Charlie asked, turning towards the photographer, the sheet forgotten by her feet.

“Act as if the camera isn’t here,” Therese suggested, “show her a good time. But not too good.”

Carol groaned, rendered speechless as the redhead raised her up and slipped the blouse off for her. Then she sat Carol down in the chair, shimmied her skirt off for her so she was only in her undergarments, and Charlie entirely nude. She left Carol’s blood-red heels on.

Therese was shuffling around, snapping photos as Charlie began rocking and swaying in rhythm atop of Carol’s lap. Carol’s hands gripped her hips, gently at first, but then the dominant fire came back to her. Once she got used to the glaring lights, the new environment of the studio, and the softness of Charlie’s skin so close to hers now, her grip tightened and her mind regained its laser-focus during sex.

Charlie moved off of her lap, pushed between her legs, and without hesitation pressed her tongue against Carol’s panties. And Therese was there, instantly, to catch the awed, aroused look on Carol’s face as the tongue began rolling against her clothed cunt. Her hair tumbled back as she let out a shaken groan, and Therese smirked while blushing as her camera clicked once, twice, thrice.

She got a closeup of Carol’s hand, twisting in Charlie’s hand. Carol’s leg swinging over Charlie’s shoulder with her heel still on, the sheen of sweat collecting in the valley of her still-covered breasts, the arch of Charlie’s back as she licked and teased the older woman. 

This is what she loved, Therese realized, more than anything. The pure unbridled adoration and lust, the beauty of two women lost in pleasure. Whether she was witnessing or experiencing it, there was something so incredibly timeless about it that she stopped for a moment in photographing, and just watched. 

Carol’s breath was hitching, and her eyes were rolling back, and her voice was raising in colourful curses, but Charlie pulled away just as her legs began to tremble. 

“I remember what you said, last time,” Charlie purred, kissing her knee. That only Therese would make her cum. 

“Oh, you delightful vixen,” Carol groaned, pulling her up. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Therese knew that teasing Carol would only come to bite you in the ass. Because if Carol couldn’t have her orgasm, she’d go above and beyond to have you begging for her instead.

And that’s how Charlie ended up on Carol’s lap again, her front against her back, legs spread over the armrests and Carol’s hand working vigorously against her swollen cunt. The redhead cried out, breathing heavily, and Carol’s other hand fisted in her mass of curls, pulling her head back so she could bite the fair, freckled skin of her neck.

Though her hands were sweating, Therese would not miss out on this image. The camera came back up and she captured the very moment that Charlie tumbled over the edge, lipgloss faint and smudged, her eyes open and desperate. She stared right into the camera, and Therese visibly shivered.

Charlie fell limp in Carol’s arms, the older woman holding her gently. 

And then, “Therese.. I think it’s your turn. You’ve been waiting like such a good girl for a while now.”

“Is that card not full yet, with how many photos you’ve been taking?” Charlie added.

The two women quickly stripped the brunette of her clothes, her slim, lithe body practically glowing in the studio lights. Carol took her time to caress her skin like she always did, which Charlie took advantage of and struck a few million-dollar-prize photos of the two lovers. Therese didn’t know how experienced she would be with her camera, but she supposed everyone could click a button and take a photo. With Carol’s mouth swirling around her nipple, she was far too distracted to care. 

Then a smaller hand came to rest between her legs, and Charlie was next to her. They traded places from before, so now Therese was in the chair and Charlie hovering over her again. 

The redhead pulled one of Therese’s legs over her shoulder, stretching her delightfully as she sat back in the chair, and worked her fingers against her clit until she was wet enough to push inside. Then, as Carol looked on in wonder, she used the momentum of her hips to drive her fingers deep, kissing the brunette with abandon as she fucked her until the chair starting moving backwards from the motions. 

Carol took a few photos, knowing they wouldn’t be as good as Therese’s but wanting to remember this nonetheless. Charlie’s hair tumbled down and was lit like fire in the lights. 

There wasn’t a single ounce of regret in Carol’s body as she watched Therese cum and tremble in the redhead’s arms, her hand gripping the armrests until her knuckles turned white. 

Charlie continued rutting against Therese, enjoying the slow motions and Therese’s soft groans. Every move still carried a shiver of pleasure for the two of them as Therese basked in the afterglow of her orgasm.

“C-Carol,” she breathed. Carol looked up, intensely, but Therese’s eyes were shut tightly. She then leaned over and whispered something in Charlie’s ear who lit up and immediately moved off of Therese’s body.

Carol cautiously walked over to the chair and Therese pulled her down for a kiss before pulling her to straddle one of her thighs.

Charlie was there immediately, facing their profiles and angled view with the camera. Carol looked a little shy- a little nervous, but Therese kissed her again and again, and then guided the blonde’s own hand down to her cunt that was moving over Therese’s slim thigh in desperation.

“Oh-,” she said in realization. Charlie grinned behind the camera, and clicked the button. 

Carol shook, moving like an animal, her head tossing back, and then pressing into Therese’s neck, her body writhing until she spilled all over her young lover. 

The last photo was that of the blonde and brunette embraced in the warm light, nude and sweaty, and perfect. Charlotte looked at it with gleeful smugness, thinking it must be the best photo out of the bunch.

After a few moments, Carol and Therese untangled and the three women helped one another get dressed. 

“How about a meal? I’m starving after all that.. exercise,” Charlotte suggested, “plus it’s the least I can do. If you won’t let me pay for this session, let me buy us takeout, at least.”

“Oh, alright,” Therese waved her hand, blushing but smiling. Carol had wound her arm around her middle and kissed her cheek as they headed out of the studio. 

“Best put that camera away, angel,” Carol suggested as they got outside. Therese was flicking through the photos that had just been taken, and she blushed once she realized she probably shouldn’t look at those in public. She’d savour them later, in bed with Carol, and add them to their collection.

taglist: @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k @the-obscurity​ 

[themurphyzone]

Pinky the Snowmouse Ch 1

Summary: On a lonely Christmas Eve, a lab mouse finds himself unable to concentrate on world domination. When an ACME scientist claims to own a magic silk hat, Brain initially dismisses it as superstitious nonsense, but finds that this boast could hold more truth than he could ever imagine.   

AN: So I posted this idea back in May (I know, nowhere near Christmas season) but it made for such a viable fic that I had to do it. Besides, I wanted to write a great Christmas fic since I focused more on Halloween last year. 

This fanfiction is also a tribute to all the Christmas specials we love so much every year, from the Christmas Carols to the holiday specials in our favorite cartoons to the Grinches and Rankin-Bass features.

Ch 1: That Old Silk Hat

AO3 Link

It was Christmas Eve, the day bolded and highlighted on the calendar, topped with a picture of Snoopy and his doghouse decked out in festive accessories.

Impossible to miss the overly cheerful music, the jingling bells, and the calls to be charitable to the poorer, less fortunate beings of the world.

Except humans never practiced what they preached.

No matter how much they claimed to care, Brain knew they never would. All of those charitable feelings would vanish as soon as Christmas was over, and they’d go right back to wallowing in their ignorance.

If they truly wanted to be charitable, they’d recognize Brain as the indisputable ruler over the world. But since humans always looked down on non-humans, it was an uphill battle with no end in sight.

But that was just fine with Brain. He wanted to be recognized for his merits and intelligence. He wanted to accomplish something other than achieving the lowest times on maze runs.

In time, his efforts would be rewarded. The bitter defeats would gradually transform into sweet victories.

But for now, he was unable to make headway into world domination since all the ACME employees had gathered by the main entrance, waiting for 3 pm to roll around like a class of bored schoolchildren who desperately wanted to go home.

If the higher ups were expecting all these mediocre scientists to show up for work and be productive on a snowy Christmas Eve, they were sorely mistaken. They were only here to collect their paychecks and didn’t care about scientific progress at all.

One lab tech popped a CD full of classic Christmas songs into an old stereo, and a chorus of Feliz Navidad began. Several scientists spun in their chairs, absentmindedly sucking on candy canes.

Brain was just as impatient as they were, but at least he’d be productive with his time once they all left.

“So ya got any plans, Bill?” a scientist asked.

“Go home,” Bill replied with a shake of his balding head. “Sleep because there’s no way I’m getting any shuteye with the twins bouncing off the walls for their presents tonight.”

“Kids are gonna be like that,” a lab tech spoke up. “I had to stop mine from taste-testing the cookies she wanted to leave out for Santa.”

Laughter rang out from the group, everyone taking turns to relate Christmas mishaps with their families. Soon almost every human joined in on the camereradie, except the most eccentric and inept scientist of them all.

Dr. Henry Hinkle was a man who claimed to bridge the fields of science and magic. However, he was woefully mediocre in both departments, and Brain had long ascertained the man had faked his credentials. Even Hinkle’s fashion sense was peculiar, as his gray lab coat was cut into the style of a magician’s fanciful tailcoat. With his brown handlebar mustache, he seemed more like a harried time traveler from the 19th century than a modern citizen.  

His most prized possession was a tall silk hat with a pink flower attached to the band. Hinkle often claimed it was a magic hat, one that performed wondrous and mystifying deeds far beyond human comprehension. Hinkle was attached to that hat, and nobody had ever seen him in public without it.

Hinkle stood apart from everyone else, an outsider from the science clique. He frantically paced back and forth, desperately trying to get the so-called magic hat to perform properly.

"Say, Hinkle? Didn't you have a gig at the elementary school last week? How'd that go?" Bill called, and all eyes turned to Hinkle, whose eyes nervously flicked back and forth at the sudden attention.

"Swell, very swell," Hinkle mumbled as he nervously fiddled with his hat. "Those little ankle-bi...I mean those delightful, darling angels were floored by my magic."

A woman scoffed and rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Yeah, right. My son was part of that class, and he thought it was the worst Christmas party he'd ever had. How embarrassing that you can't shuffle a deck of cards."

“Madam, I will have you know I can shuffle a deck with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back!” Hinkle retorted. He flicked his left sleeve, and an entire card deck slipped out and spilled onto the ground. As Hinkle bent down in a hasty attempt to get the cards back in order, a small wand, several rubber balls, and colorful scarves tumbled out his other sleeve.

Nobody bothered to help Hinkle out with his misfortune. His coworkers elbowed each other, pointed fingers, and snickered among themselves instead.

The situation was far too pathetic to be humorous.

Brain wasn’t surprised by humans anymore. Peace and goodwill toward their fellow men didn’t exist, though the holiday season claimed otherwise.

It was now 2:40 pm. Only twenty minutes left in this humiliating performance, and Brain could formulate his next plan for world domination without further interruption.  

Hinkle quickly stuffed the mess into his coat pockets. Then he straightened up, pulling on both ends of his bowtie in a vain effort to appear calm and collected once he was finished.

“If your hat really is magic, show us a few tricks!” Bill jeered, and the other employees joined in with challenges of their own.

“Oh, I will. And all of you will feel silly for doubting me after I’m through! Silly, silly, silly indeed!” Hinkle shouted. He tried to remove the hat from his head with a graceful flourish, but clumsily dropped it instead.

He chuckled nervously, a bead of sweat running down his forehead despite the chill.

“As with any exercise, a good magician always warms up with the basics,” Hinkle declared as he showed his audience a small red ball. “For my first trick, I will put this red rubber ball into my magic hat like so, and presto change-o, I have five red rubber balls to-”

He tipped the magic hat upside down. A single red ball bounced out, rolling along the floor before it hit an unimpressed lab tech’s shoe.

“-go,” Hinkle finished dejectedly. He peered into the hat, futilely shaking it as if the other four balls would pop out. Once he realized that wouldn’t be the case, his shoes scuffed the ground in shame as he picked up the single red ball and dropped it back into his hat.

“Look on the bright side, man! You produced invisible balls without trying!” someone called, garnering laughter from the rest of the audience.

Hinkle’s face turned red.

And while the scorn wasn’t directed at Brain, he thought the heckling was an unnecessary endeavor. There was little point in prolonging the man’s misery, no matter how incompetent or delusional he was at magic tricks.

“N-now, as I said before, that was just a warm up,” Hinkle said, nervously tugging at his collar. Then he pulled a small pink scarf out from his pocket, spilling several cards and dice onto the floor again. “But my second trick is sure to amaze you! Watch as I place this scarf into my hat and let the magic focus, now hocus pocus I say, and out come green, gold, and...gray?”

To nobody’s surprise, there was only a lone pink scarf in Hinkle’s hand. “There were supposed to be endless scarves attached to this…” he muttered. It fluttered out of his hand and back into the hat.

But nobody was paying attention to Hinkle anymore. The clock struck three, and the dull atmosphere changed to a holiday-induced fervor as everyone pushed and shoved their way to the front so they could card out and leave.

Brain crept to the front of his cage, one hand resting on his crooked tail as he prepared to unlock the cage and make headway into his plans as soon as they left. He was brimming with viable ideas, and they needed to be written down before he forgot them.

“EVERYBODY, WAIT!” Hinkle bellowed over the noise, and his colleagues turned to him with annoyance written all over their faces.

Brain gritted his teeth. Just let them go already! Was that really so difficult?

“I have one more trick, yes, just one more teensy trick up my sleeve! A real one, I assure you! You won’t be disappointed!” Hinkle said, rubbing his hands together frantically. He emptied his pockets, tossing props everywhere in a vain attempt to find something useful.

Then Hinkle donned a pair of white magician’s gloves, his eyes falling right on Brain. And Brain realized he was about to be conscripted as an unwilling volunteer.

Since his usual tactic of biting fingers until he was left alone wouldn’t work on gloved hands, Brain beat a hasty retreat to the back of his cage, intending to use the exercise wheel as further cover.

But he only made it halfway to the wheel when the door opened and gloved fingers pinched his tail, dragging him out of the cage and dangling him over the magic hat for everyone to see.

“Watch as I transform this ugly lab mouse into a beautiful dove!” Hinkle yelled, and just as Brain processed the insult, he was unceremoniously dropped into the hat. He fell right on top of the rubber ball, knocking the wind out of him. “Abracadabra alakazam!”

Brain pressed himself against the inside folds of the hat as he tried to catch his breath, but he was only given a moment of reprieve before he was snatched up and thrown into the air, as if Hinkle expected him to grow wings because of a nonsensical phrase.

He slammed against the window and fell to the table below, shaking his head to clear away the stars circling in his vision. Every part of his body ached, agony starting from the tip of his tail and snaking up his spine. Slowly, he sat up and checked himself over in the window.

There was a distinct lack of avian features in his reflection, as he expected. He had a new break in his tail from the rough treatment, but there weren’t any other new markings.  

Everyone stared at Brain in silence, and the only sounds were barely suppressed squeaks of disbelief from Hinkle and a chorus of Deck the Halls.

Then there was a booming laugh.

“Prettiest dove I’ve ever seen!” Bill said, to the mirth of his coworkers.  

Brain’s ears flattened, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear forever.

His fists clenched at the sound of their mockery. He never chose to be involved in this ridiculous demonstration. Or deal with their scorn and stupidity every day. Or live at ACME Labs at all, where he had to suffer through experiment after experiment on top of attempting world domination and failing every single night.

“Come back! I have trick cards! Magic 8-balls! I’ll saw something in half and put it back together, I swear!” Hinkle shouted at the scientists’ retreating figures as they all carded out and stepped into the bitter chill of winter. They shuffled through the snow-covered property and into their vehicles, not wishing to be delayed any longer.

The prized silk hat crumpled in Hinkle’s hand.

“Bah! The only thing this junk hat’s good for is the trash can!” Hinkle snarled as he hurled the hat at the wastebasket by the door, but it only hit the nearby wall instead.

Then he stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Brain peered out the window, his breath forming a small patch of fog against the cold glass as he watched Hinkle trudge towards the city. He waited a minute to ensure Hinkle wasn't coming back, then rushed over to a drawer where he'd hidden a roll of blueprints and writing utensils.

He was finally, blissfully alone.

Strands of colorful Christmas lights twinkled along the walls, casting a festive hue onto the unfurled blueprints.

Solve for x. Cube the most wonderful time of the year. Multiply by pi.

Peppermints, candy canes, and chocolates were mixed together in a snowflake-patterned bowl. Brain snacked on one of the chocolates as he scribbled a preliminary design for a machine. The candy was bittersweet on his tongue.

Sodium and chloride to form an ionic bond. Three irons needed to balance the equation. Symbol H stood for the hap-happiest season of all.

Only the scratching of his pencil, the hum of a heater which barely worked, and an old, droning carol. The Christmas bells subdued, the computers shut off.

And hearts will be glowing when loved ones are near. Loved ones are near. Loved ones are near...  

There was a wet spot on the blueprint, directly over where he was trying to write. Frowning, he rubbed out the excess moisture, but only succeeded in smudging his numbers. He started over in an empty space, only for the wetness to appear again. Annoyed, he flipped his pencil around and rubbed the grayed area with his eraser.

The blueprint ripped.

Though the hole was tiny and didn’t affect the rest of his work in the slightest, it seemed that his plan had failed before he’d implemented it.

And it occurred to him that he’d never considered how the machine would function or how it would help him accomplish his takeover.

His face felt strange, so he rubbed his cheeks to get rid of the sensation. His hand came away damp.

Oh.

He was crying.

It was that stupid song’s fault. He dropped his pencil and walked over to the stereo, slamming his hand against the stop button just as the song reached its end.

The sound cut off immediately.

Only the dying thrums of a malfunctioning heater now.

The silence was overwhelming.

Christmas media always said the holiday season was a joyous occasion for family and friends, a time for reflection and rebirth as the year wrapped up and began anew.

But it was just propaganda. Nothing more than lies so people would praise themselves as right and virtuous and loving when they were nothing of the sort.

Brain splashed cold water onto his face, ridding himself of the useless tears. Then he looked out the window. A light flurry had begun, the clouds low and dreary gray. The land was already blanketed in snow from the blizzard on the winter equinox, and temperatures hadn’t warmed up since.

And while there were footprints in the snow from passersby, much of the surrounding property was untouched.

Maybe that’s what he needed.

An opportunity to numb himself, to walk around in the cold and discard these useless, empty aches in his chest.

He tore up his blueprint and threw it away. He was better off starting over after his stint outside.

Then he put on his winter gear, nicked from a doll somebody had brought in as a donation to a toy drive, but now lay forgotten in the lab.

The thick white jacket was comfortable and padded with extra fluff. He threw the hood over his head and tucked in his ears, then pulled on his snow boots and gloves.

As he wound a long piece of string around the window latch, he caught sight of the silk hat that laid beside the wastebasket, considered nothing more than trash since it wouldn’t do what Hinkle wanted. The rubber ball and scarf was still inside, crumpled and forgotten.

Magic wasn’t real. It was simply the art of misdirection and illusion. Or a word the uneducated used to describe occurrences they couldn’t explain with science.

Despite his beliefs, Brain built a simple pulley system with thick yarn and an empty spool to haul the silk hat up to the counter.

He could use the hat for extra fabric. Repurpose it. Shrink it so he could have a formal hat for himself.

He opened the window, allowing the cold wind to numb the exposed fur on his face. With all the flurries, he’d probably regret this decision later, but that wasn’t anything new. Then he dropped the loose end of the string outside and tugged the knot around the latch. Once he was satisfied with the knot’s tightness, he dropped the silk hat into the snow-covered bushes below.

It was ironic, how he experimented with chemicals and complicated machinery every night, but didn’t know what he was doing with a simple hat.

Maybe that humiliating demonstration had messed with his mind, overriding all his logic and planning capabilities.

But it seemed like such a flimsy excuse, not providing a satisfactory explanation as to why he’d dragged a so-called magic hat outside on what was supposed to be a simple break.

Brain slid down the string, his boots crunching against the snow as he landed. He stuck out a gloved hand, catching several flurries.

No two snowflakes looked alike, they always said. But their crystalline structures couldn’t be seen without a microscope, so they were nothing more than white powder to the naked eye. He rolled the flurries in his palm until they formed a tiny snowball.

It gave him an idea.

But...it was childish. Stupid.

Yet he found himself rolling snow anyway.

This patch of the property was completely undisturbed, so he had a nice layer of clean, white snow untouched by human footprints to work with.

Nobody was around to see him. And it gave his hands something to do instead of remaining idle.

He quickly found that rolling snow into a spherical shape per the typical snowman wasn’t as easy as television depicted. The snow didn’t want to move in the way he wanted, and it came out as a lumpy, ovular mound that happened to be the same size as him.

He kicked aside a thin, whiplike twig that had broken off from one of the nearby bushes as he gathered more snow to form the head. Then he reconsidered and picked up the twig.

In his hands, it looked very similar to a mouse’s tail. One that wasn’t broken by mishandling.

While he didn’t have the height or the tools required for a full-sized snowman, maybe he could create a snowmouse instead.

He carefully threaded the twig into the backside of the mound, curling it around so it resembled an actual tail.

Then he brushed extra snow away from the front, smoothing out the mound until it had the snowy equivalent of legs.

The head was more difficult to sculpt, but he managed to create something that would be recognizable as a mouse’s head, with two small snowballs forming the ears and a muzzle that jutted out. He would’ve made the muzzle smaller, but the increased size was necessary to counterweight the ears. Lastly, he slid two sticks into each side of the snowmouse to serve as arms.

The snowmouse was twice Brain’s height, and while it had the proportions of a mouse, it was ultimately just a cold white body with three embedded twigs. No personality, no splashes of color.

Anyone could easily miss or step on it.

The snowmouse would be gone by next week, once the temperature rose above freezing. No trace of his handiwork would remain.

Such was life. Short and brutal, with nothing to show for it.

The faceless snowmouse seemed oddly alone, the only other thing besides Brain in this wintery courtyard. There wasn’t anything for either of them here.

“Sorry,” Brain said, unsure of why he was apologizing to something that couldn’t hold a conversation. He’d wasted far too much time here. He had to get back to his plans. “I’m going inside.” 

A chilly breeze blew, and Brain held fast to his hood so it didn’t come off. As he turned to the lab, he saw the silk hat become airborne, flying several feet until it landed by Brain and the snowmouse.

He didn’t think the breeze had been that strong.

But the strangest part was how the hat was much smaller than before. It wouldn’t fit a human anymore.

Even the red rubber ball and pink scarf shrunk. And there were several pebbles that hadn’t been there previously, though Brain guessed they could’ve just gotten inside when he’d dropped the hat.

Brain stared at the items, then back at the snowmouse.

“Just this once,” he sighed as he draped the scarf between the main body and head, then placed the rubber ball at the end of the muzzle for a nose.

Two of the pebbles became unseeing eyes, though Brain was at a loss of what he should do with the other two pebbles. He tried using them as a replacement for buttons on the body, but that didn’t seem right. And placing them on the cheeks just looked awkward.  

Brain held a pebble in each hand, stepping back to determine the placement. But he didn’t find anything satisfactory.

He was about to discard the pebbles entirely, but then he noticed that the snowmouse seemed to have an odd pair of buckteeth sticking out at the end of its muzzle with the way he held the pebbles.

Perhaps he should’ve left it as a matter of perspective. It was stupid. It was silly.

But Brain stuck the pebbles on the underside of the muzzle anyway.

The snowmouse looked ridiculous with its red rubber nose, pink scarf, and pebbles for eyes and goofy buckteeth.

Another breeze picked up, and one of the snowmouse’s stick arms waved, moving up and down like it was saying hello.

Like it was...friendly. Alive. Happy.

Slowly, Brain approached the snowmouse. He placed one hand on the snowmouse’s body, balanced on his tiptoes, and threw the silk hat on top.

For reasons Brain couldn’t explain, the hat just seemed to go with the rest of the snowmouse.

And then he caught himself.

What a ridiculous concept.

Creating a snowmouse wasn’t his worst transgression, if he’d just left it at the creation process. No, instead he had to go personifying it! Assigning qualities that shouldn’t be designated to inanimate objects!

Snow wasn’t alive. It was water. That’s all it was.

“You’re snow. You’re just a pile of frozen water!” Brain yelled, turning away from the snowmouse. Enough with these idiotic fantasies. He was going inside, back to the cruel reality of trying to take over the world. “You’re not alive, so just leave me alone! Quit toying with my perception!”

He stomped towards the window, but only made it a few steps before an odd sound gave him pause.

“Toys? Narrrrrf! That sounds like jolly good fun! Can I play with toys too?”

Brain looked over his shoulder, and promptly tripped over himself in surprise.

A pair of bright blue eyes was looking back at him. Actual eyes, not pebbles.

And the snowmouse was talking.

End AN: I feel really bad for calling Brain ugly. *sobs*

I actually kinda find writing Hinkle’s dialogue fun. A bit of a strange character to crossover with, but fun. Hocus Pocus the Rabbit won’t be making an appearance. 

Also some changes will be made from the original Frosty the Snowman cause some parts of the cartoon don’t make sense. A greenhouse at the North Pole, really?

[mc-lukanette]

Grade for Each Other (Part 4)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Juleka looked up at Luka as he crossed the gangplank to step onto the ship. She'd made a confused comment about his big grin and the skip in his step, but he was casual about it and told her that he was simply having a good day.

It wasn't a lie. He'd just thought it best to avoid the subject of what exactly had transpired, given what Marinette had told him. He trusted his sister, but he knew where her weaknesses were; she had a lot of anxiety and easily folded under pressure. It thrilled him that Juleka had friends of her own, but some tended to be pushy (he was too polite to voice names but he definitely thought names), and he wasn't burdening Juleka with any sort of knowledge when Marinette was perfectly happy as things currently were. The last thing either needed was something stirred up.

Thus, he passed by Juleka with a calm shrug over her question on how he was meant to be out with his friends by this point. Walking across the deck, he passed by the cabin, where Anarka was leaning on the helm of the boat.

"What's got your sails out, son?"

He glanced up at her, knowing that she wouldn't as easily let it slide. Grinning, he replied, "New member in the crew."

Her brows raised, either in interest or suspicion. "...A co-captain?"

Luka held back an "I wish" and instead shook his head. Regardless of how much of a crescendo he was riding, he wasn't dating Marinette or anything.

He walked on, heading downstairs to go below the deck. There was a song in his heart, urging him to move faster, but he tried to contain it. He let the notes build and develop as he slipped into his room, his fingers finally touching the neck of his guitar.

And then his phone went off.

Luka's mouth turned to a thin line, Claudine's ringtone almost seeming to taunt him. Silently, he wished he'd just played the guitar that he'd grabbed at the music store when he was with Marinette.

Pulling out his phone, he accepted the call and held it to his ear, taking a seat on his bed to get comfortable. "Hi, Cee."

"Hey—" She paused. "...I almost didn't get that."

He could hear a shuffling noise, followed by the sound of a high C note on a flute.

"So, how was your walk home, Couffaine?"

He snorted. "I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"You know I didn't." He could imagine her innocent shrug. "Does that mean you had fun with your melody?"

"Not my melody," he reminded her.

"Sounds like she's definitely some melody though, considering that you haven't played her out yet."

He blinked, wondering how she could've known. "What?"

The smirk was evident in her voice. "You've been tapping a tune on the back of your phone."

Luka stiffened, realizing the position of his fingers on his phone. He pulled the phone away, then switched the hand it was in so he could tap at his leg instead. It was a much quieter sound at least.

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question," she pointed out. "How was the walk?"

He frowned, not because she was prodding for details, but because said walk involved Marinette becoming upset. It wasn't entirely bad, but there was little he could tell her.

"It was... a lot," he replied simply.

She hummed. "A lot? So the usual for you then, at least whenever you're around her?"

He didn't respond even though she was right. Debating with himself for a moment, he then spoke with a hint of caution to his voice. "Look, Claudine, about you guys leaving me and Marinette alone—"

"Spare me." she interrupted with a snort. "You've played that tune way too many times. You don't want to pressure her, she likes someone else, you're an angel sent from heaven above who's too nice to pursue her in anyway, blah blah blah."

He hunched forward, brows furrowed as he tried to sound more stern. "Claudine—"

"Luka." There was a sound in the background to imply that she'd sat down on a thick chair of some kind. "Look. You're a sweet guy and I think that's great, but the girl you love skipped two grades and ended up in your class by pure coincidence. You're just going to pass that up?"

He sighed. "A good song'll never come together if I force it."

"And a good song will never come together if you don't try," she argued, sounding exasperated.

Luka opened his mouth to disagree, but found himself at a loss for words, instead biting his lower lip.

A few seconds passed, probably as Claudine gave him a moment to respond if he had anything to say. When he didn't, she let out a calm breath and continued, "There's nothing wrong with walking someone home. It doesn't have to be romantic, right?"

"If it makes her uncomfortable—"

"Did it?"

He was immediately reminded of Marinette hugging him from behind, causing him to blush. "...No."

"Then what's the problem? And hey, if she's in love with some other guy, what if you're better for her?"

"I'm not the one who makes her happy."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure the fond eyes she gives you are just for show," Claudine joked. "I'm just saying, what if this guy's gonna end up making her miserable?"

He briefly cringed at the memory of going to the ice rink with Marinette, Adrien, and Kagami.

"I'm not telling you to get down on one knee and propose - even though I'm sure you're there emotionally anyway - but how about you just let yourself be happy for once without worrying about all the conditions you've gotta add onto that? You're not pursuing her, but you're just letting her know that... what's the phrase? That there's many fish at the sushi bar?"

"You've been hanging around Mito too much."

"My point is, you're not doing anything wrong by letting her know how you feel. You're not getting into her space and you're not forcing anything on her. You're just hanging out like friends do, and so what if you happen to be alone?"

He managed a smile. "Happen to be? You three left us alone. I'm starting to think that you're just doing it to see my reactions."

"It's a bonus," she shamelessly admitted. "Anyway, consider it. I'll let you get back to your Mari Melody now."

He let her have that one. "Thanks."

The phone clicked, Luka pulling it away to stare at the screen momentarily. He exhaled, then set it aside and went for his guitar again, plugging it into his amp before settling down on his bed.

He'd just gotten his guitar into his lap when his phone went off yet again. Luka was starting to believe that fate was thoroughly against him at this point, but then he noticed that it was at least Marinette this time, and only a text message. Happy, though slightly concerned that she was slipping back into her solemn mood during their walk, he picked his phone back up and navigated to their messages.

Oh my gosh! I just realized that I have NO idea what I'm going to do about studying! New school, new lessons, and I'm not prepared at all!

Do you study???

Not that I'm implying you don't or that you don't care about it, but some people don't need to or are comfortable where their grades are, you know?

He smiled, able to read how much her mind was moving faster than her fingers just by how quickly the messages had come in. He leaned back against the wall, his forearm resting on the body of his guitar as he watched more messages pour in.

I'm just asking because maybe we could study together? Like a study date?

NOT LIKE, A DATE DATE.

Especially if you bring your friends which would be totally okay! I don't know them well yet, but they're really nice so far!

Or maybe THEY don't study so it would just be you and me then?

BUT NOT A STUDY DATE.

IT'S JUST A DATE

ON THE CALENDAR

WHERE WE'D STUDY.

SO NOT A STUDY DATE DATE.

YEAH?

He chuckled. The sacrifice of not being able to play yet was well worth it to see that she was back to normal again.

He went to respond, but stopped as he saw that she was still typing. The typing bubble seemed to be going through a pattern of appearing, disappearing, and then reappearing. He waited until, finally, the last message popped up.

I mean, unless you want it to be...?

His mouth dropped open. The only thing saving his phone from falling onto the bed, given the sudden slack in his fingers, was the angle of his palm. He reread the message a few times, just to make sure he wasn't reading it wrong, then averted his gaze to the amp that he had plugged his guitar into earlier.

It suddenly looked incredibly small and pathetic.

After what may've been a full minute of just sitting there, Luka set the phone aside and got up. Securing his guitar to his back, he unplugged it from the amp and turned to walk out of his room. He went up the stairs and back to the cabin, where Anarka was still idling.

"Mom, can I borrow your amp?"

"Atta boy!"

[Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [08]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–mentions of sex, a panic attack w.c; 4.5k a/n; can’t believe there’s one more chapter after this! (+the bonus chapter!) its such a bittersweet feeling to close this all up so i hope u all join me in my w2!jk sobbing party im making matcha cookies rn so i can wallow

[07] [08] [final] -> masterpost

Jungkook’s worried. 

After he left your apartment, he dove himself into his work and tried to get you out of his head. Somehow he ended up from his living room table to his bed, bleary and with a pen jabbing him in the cheek. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, and has micro analyzed every bit of your relationship in between breaks.

He fell fast, and loving you (as much as it scares himself to admit) was so easy it hurt. It’s why it’s so hard for him to accept that you would betray him like that. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? If you had just admitted your issues from day one, this crisis could have easily been averted and you would be with him right now. 

But that’s not why he’s worried. Jungkook wakes up the following day around 10AM, noting the dozens of messages and unanswered phone calls from Jimin and Taehyung. 

According to Taehyung, you’ve been missing for three days. Off-the-grid type of missing, to the point that Taehyung is debating on whether or not he should call the police. 

The first day you didn’t come home, Taehyung chalked it up as you spending the night at Jungkook’s. The second day however, he visits the library where your office hours are held only to find your usual table empty and your students upset over your lack of contact. 

“Here,” Doyeon had said, pointing to the vague email you sent. Taehyung skimmed through the barebones message, mentioning that you had to take an indefinite leave and that the students can email Professor Kim Namjoon if they still had lingering questions. 

Taehyung notes the sincere apology at the bottom, and how you tack on that “you are a wonderful group of students and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.” 

Almost as if you aren’t planning to come back. 

He could hear Taehyung deflate on the line, knowing that Jungkook has no idea where you are either. 

“Did you…” Jungkook scratches his head, sitting at his kitchen table, “did you check her room for a yellow notebook?” 

“What?” Taehyung asks, “I checked her room yesterday. Y’know the weird thing is? Her room is clean, like clinically clean. There’s nothing on her desk, the sheets are washed, and her clothes are all folded and put away. Usually it’s like a whirlwind in here.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, remembering how your room is usually quite lived in, with warm sheets and a candle glowing. 

“Why aren’t you more stressed out, dude?” Taehyung says, and Jungkook instantly feels guilty. “Your girlfriend’s fucking missing, are you gonna get up and help or not?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little shaken,” he manages to reply, thinking about how you tried to explain to him the other night. He pinches the bridge between his brows, regretting not letting you have your word when refusing to listen to you. Maybe if he heard it, things would have turned out differently.

Taehyung sighs, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock. She really isn’t like this normally, but I trust her. If you can, maybe contact Jung Hoseok? I already visited Kim Namjoon and he doesn’t know anything, but he’s the only friend I know that could have any idea.” 

Jung Hoseok. He remembers that name frequently in your notebook. Not as frequently as his, but enough to have a good idea he could be involved in your sudden departure. 

“Okay, I’ll visit him today.” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The tables that you usually occupy for study groups are painfully absent of your presence, noted by your stressed out students that are hoping you’ll show up unexpectedly. 

Thankfully, Hoseok is working today. Jungkook eyes him from the doorway of the playroom, seeing Hoseok carefully distribute plates of snacks as a movie plays on the flatscreen. He looks like a preschooler himself, decked out in a sunflower yellow bucket hat and denim suspenders. Jungkook tries to see if there’s anything strange emanating from Hoseok, like if he also has secrets to hide, but feels nothing of the sort.  

“You’re really creepy, Mister,” the door swings open to reveal a little girl, tugging impatiently at his cargos. 

Hoseok makes a face at Jungkook, rolling his eyes. “God, just come in. You’re scaring my children.” 

The little girl practically shoves him inside, forcing him to sit at the playtable on the very end. She then hands him a plate of cheddar Goldfish and strawberry fruit snacks, a toddler’s delicacy. Hoseok makes a show of telling the children to be quiet, focusing on the movie’s “historical elements” and “symbolic imagery” but they don’t understand any of that and just want Hoseok to move so they can watch Mulan. 

Jungkook feels like he’s being crushed in the too-small chair and Fisher-Price table, munching absentmindedly on his Goldfish. Hoseok is playing on his phone, not sparing him a glance as he texts someone. 

Jungkook swallows, wishing he had some milk to down the snack. “Uh, are you texting y/n?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies coolly. 

“Well, do you know where she is?” 

“I can tell you where she went,” Hoseok replies eerily, plucking a fruit snack from Jungkook’s place, “as to whether she’s still there or not, I’m not sure.” 

“I’m sorry, but are you mad at me?” he whisper-hisses, not wanting to disturb the children enamoured at the front of the room. He’s tired of the secrecy and blurry answers. 

“Yes, I am,” Hoseok snaps just as quietly, leaning in to get into his face, “I’m mad because I believed in you.” 

“Believed in me?” he gapes, “you don’t even know me!” 

“I may not, but I believed you’d trust y/n at least. She’s a victim too, y’know.” 

A victim? 

“Look,” Jungkook puts some space between them, afraid he would get too heated, “just tell me what’s going on so I can understand. I know I messed up, but I feel like I’ve been in the dark for God knows how long.”

Hoseok bites his lip, “It’s really not my story to tell. Y/n didn’t want to tell you right away because she wasn’t sure of the circumstances. She wasn’t sure even if she was supposed to tell you.” 

Jungkook watches the expressions morph on Hoseok’s face. He sees the faith in his gaze, as he holds his phone expectantly, as if he’s also waiting for a sign that you’re okay. Jungkook suppresses a sigh, looking at his own blank screen. Shaking his head, he manages to smile knowing that so many people believe in you.

So why can’t he? 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You hate this. Three days ago you felt peachy keen, ready to transcend into your own universe and live your life to the fullest. 

Now three days later you’re sitting at the wine lady’s cottage, waiting for the past two days for her to show up. 

“How long does she need to go on this ‘spiritual retreat’?” you admonish, looking on angrily at the same waitress that has served you for the past two days. 

“I don’t know,” the waitress has grown tired of your presence, waiting all day in the little restaurant for the owner’s presence, “until she feels more spiritual, I guess?” 

It annoys you further that this waitress has the spitting image of Sehlyung. It’s weird to see her with natural pin straight black hair, always loving the pretty blond-white color and sacrificing her hair health for the bright hue. Every time she sees you still in the same spot, she makes it a point to roll her eyes and walk a little louder. This version of her is just as temperamental, unwilling to budge. 

You groan, shamelessly annoyed as you drop your head on your arm. “And are you sure there’s no angel’s wine in the bar? I’m willing to take the risk of switching lives with my third dimension-self at this rate.” 

The waitress eyes the one empty bottle of soju that decorate your side of the bar, chalking it up as a drunk episode. “No,” she says flatly, jerking her hand out. “Now, please pay and leave. We’re closing up, but I’ll give you a call if she decides to show up late. Since y’know, you’ve left your number here despite our protests.” 

“Can I stay until you’re at least done cleaning—” 

“No.” 

You narrow your eyes, snatching up your half-finished bottle of soju before tucking it in your purse and offering up your credit card in exchange. You know you’re not in the right mind, but you’re pulling at strings at this point and you don’t know what to do. 

After a couple paces of shaky walking and trying very hard not to appear tipsy in public, you plop yourself onto the beach, overlooking the shore. You place your backpack next to you, taking off your shoes and dipping your toes in the sand. 

You glare hard at the moon, despite the distance the big ball of extraterrestrial rock is bright and full. It reflects in the ocean and bathes you in it’s grace. 

Sighing at its beauty, you take a swig of your soju as your feet wade in the water. The touch of the ocean is glaringly cold, but your body feels warm and the contrast is appropriately jarring. You feel stuck between two worlds, your body in one while your heart is in the other, desperate to find the bridge to bring you home. 

What exactly was the goal in bringing you here? Did you need a break from your real life? Did fate want you to remedy your relationship with Jungkook? Were you supposed to rewrite the wrongs you committed in your other life? 

You snort, taking a long swig. It's easy to see how well that went. 

You miss your life back home. As much as you love the one your alternate self has made here, nothing compares to Sehlyung’s humor and dirty jokes. Nothing compares to the look on Beomgyu’s face after getting a sentence translation correct. Nothing compares to the way Jungkook looks for only you after a concert, desperate to give you a hug and an affirmation that he did well. 

Just as you are about to sing to the moon and beg for a reprieve, a body plops themselves next to you, snatching the bottle from your hands. 

“Y’know, normally when people run away, they leave a mysterious note.” 

You frown at Jungkook, who looks absolutely ethereal as he stares at the moon. He’s glittering in his denim jacket and black jeans, as if he’s part of an intimate moment in a slice-of-life film. You have half a mind to grab your phone and yell at Hoseok, but it’s far too late since your location has already been revealed. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying not to snap when Jungkook pours the contents of your drink into the ocean. “Hey, I paid for that.” 

Ignoring you he says, “I’m here to take you home.” 

“I don’t have a home here,” you snap, and you mean it. 

Jungkook digs a hole for your bottle, letting the sea green grass sit in the sandhole. He turns to you, looking weary and worried. You try not to feel worried over the slump in his chest, or the way he looks like he ran a marathon to find you. 

“Then where is your home?” he asks gently, resting an arm over his knee and turning to face you. 

You curl up further into your body, hoping you’ll shrink if you press your legs close enough to your chest. “It’s not here,” you mumble into your knees. 

“Tell me where,” and you don’t shove him away when he puts his palm on your thigh, coaxing you out of your shell. “I’ll listen this time.” Deathly slow, you lift your head up, letting him catch your stray tears and spread your body with warmth. He scoots over to you, the rough sand making it difficult as he tries to wrap his arm around you. The both of you let out a breath, missing each other’s touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apologies melting into your temple, “I should’ve listened from the beginning, and been more patient. It’s my fault you’re all the way out here.” 

The oceans crash against both of your feet, the water eager to swallow you whole. 

“Two months ago I got into a fight with you, the other you,” you start, and Jungkook doesn’t budge, and you’re thankful he doesn’t attempt to bombard you with questions, “it wasn’t a stupid fight. It was something building for a long, long time. And I came home drunk. One second, I was two seconds away from being sideswept by an incoming truck, and the next second it’s daytime and it’s you that nearly runs me over.” 

He rubs small circles into your shoulder, and you almost hum at his touch. You miss Jungkook so much. 

“The Jungkook I’ve told you about isn’t dead,” you explain, “he’s—and I’m, we’re from another universe.” 

And between you, Jungkook, and the moon you profess your journey. Starting from the anxiety you felt from the first week, how you holed yourself in your apartment until Namjoon had to whisk you out, to your relief when Hoseok believed your crazy ideas. Halfway through you decide to piece your theories within the story, your last conversation with Jungkook, coupled with the angel’s wine and explaining how scary it was to see your matching tattoos and the meaning behind them. 

“But, I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you so I could go home,” you admit tearfully, feeling the weight of the night on your shoulders, “it, it just happened naturally. It made me believe that in another world, we would’ve worked out. Just like he said.”  

“I believe you,” he says firmly, exhaling. The whole explanation, understatedly, is a lot to take in. But he isn’t going to reject it, in fact as absurd as it is it makes far more sense than you planning out a Jungkook-inspired sci-fi novel or questioning your sanity. “I—I didn’t want to at first. It was easier to say you were crazy but, it doesn’t seem like the case. The way you saw me that morning we met, I could see how much you cared for me—him—us?” he scratches his head, unsure of how he should refer to himself in the situation.  

“I don’t blame you,” you shake your head, “Namjoon wanted me to see a doctor.” 

“It must’ve been hard,” he states, “seeing so much of him in me.” 

“You are him,” you retort, looking up so that your noses are touching. There’s pain in both your gazes, equally upset at the circumstances. “I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick. I wish you could’ve met me, the other me, under normal circumstances.” 

“Remember what I said before?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I said that our meeting was fate. And now I believe it more than ever.” 

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Y’know, Jungkook believes in fate too. He used to joke about hearing the bell when he found ‘the one’ like in Kimi No Na Wa.” 

Jungkook grins, “That guy of yours seems pretty cool,” he jokes, “let him know that in our case, the bell was my horn because I didn’t wanna run you over.” 

The whole situation is confusing, but you’re thankful that Jungkook seems to be at ease now that all your cards are laid out. 

“So does your Jungkook do film too?” 

“Uh,” you choke out a cough, “he’s actually a singer, dancer, producer, and films when he has the time. Mostly singer, the main one in a K-pop group. With Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin.” 

He gapes, “Kim Seokjin? The actor Seokjin? Damn he’s like, super fine—” 

“God this is so weird.” 

“So how many figures are they making a year? In the hundred-thousands, like six-figures?” 

“Er, more like eight,” you squeak, “and then some. But you put a lot of your money into donations.” 

“Damn babe, you downgraded,” Jungkook jokes, and you smack him playfully on the arm. “So that’s how you got the song, huh?” 

“Still With You? Yeah,” you say, running your hands through the soft sand, “it’s weird to live in a world without your music, byproduct of my job. It happens to be a big part of my life,” your eyes glaze over the ocean, “I missed hearing your voice.” 

“Y/n,” Jungkook threads his fingers through the sand to find your hands, “I’m really, really sorry I doubted you.” 

You disagree, “It’s a crazy situation. I don’t even know if I’m really sane at this moment,” you chuckle, “I mean, the time went by so fast. I would be paranoid because for you, it’s like being in a new relationship. I didn’t think it would be so easy to love you all over again like that.” 

“Neither did I.” Jungkook replies warmly, and he smiles when he sees you gaping. He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, a feeling long-missed. “And a little part of me knows he feels the same way, too.” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s almost 12AM before you return to your apartment, dripping wet because neither of you anticipated the sudden spring shower. You tumble in like wet noodles, giggling like children in hushed whispers as you struggle to find the lightswitch. 

The lights blare on for you, Taehyung’s fingers hanging by the toggle. His hair is wet from the shower, and he looks like he sees a Christmas miracle when he wraps you up in his arms, despite the protest of you being dirty with sand and salt. 

“You dummy, don’t ever scare me like that ever again!” he sobs into your shoulder, and you return the embrace as you pat his head comfortingly. 

“Sorry Tae,” you say, “had to do a little soul-searching.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, more like world-searching if anyone were to ask his honest opinion. But Taehyung is looking past your body to mumble a teary ‘thank you’ to Jungkook, and he nods his head politely. 

“Well next time you soul search, you better call.” 

“Done and done.” 

Satisfied that you are going to stay the night and not budge, Taehyung returns to his room. He gives you a good scolding however, and he makes you promise that you’ll give him the full story over breakfast. 

After that bump, Jungkook and you can’t keep your hands off each other. You two shower the grime off your bodies, taking turns shampooing and scrubbing. Even after you’re clean and towel-dried, Jungkook’s fingers fail to untack from your skin, pushing you eagerly to your mattress as he presses kisses along your clothed body. He’s singing against your skin, waxing poetics about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. 

“Jung—koo, Jungkook,” you say breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp locks, “Taehyung’s in the other room, we can’t be loud.” 

“Don’t,” kiss, “give,” kiss, “a fuck,” Jungkook pants, large hands trailing over your soft skin, memorizing every inch of you, He presses his length against your thigh, insistent, “if this is the last time, we’re going off with fireworks, baby.” 

And with that, you relent. It’s nothing short of electric, the way he takes great care but great power into your pleasure. He takes his time, as if it isn’t the first and last night, tracing every inch of your body because he doesn’t know what the future entails for the both of you. 

You’re equally stung like live-wire, wracking with pleasure as he seals his affirmation to you with sweet nothings, bodies pressed against each other feverently like they’ve always meant to be. Every bit of contact is purposeful, unbridled and overflowing with affection. 

When you’re done you’re both sweaty and almost painfully content, acceptant of the ambiguity of your futures. 

“Jungkook?” you ask, holding his hand tightly.

“Yes, pretty girl?” 

“Will you… fall in love with me again?” 

“Is that even a question?” he balks, leaning forward to peck your nose. He smiles at the way you scrunch your face. “Your office hours are 1-3PM, Mondays and Thursdays in the general library. If you’re not there, you’re teaching the History of Neuroscience in the ARC building on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:20 to 12:10. I also know where you live, so.”  

You don’t care how sweaty you are, and tuck your head underneath his chin, needing to be closer. 

“I will find you,” he promises, “hopefully not under my bike the second time around, but I’ll take what I can get.” 

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, y’know,” you sigh into his chest, feeling it rumble as your hair dampens. Your hair has dried long ago from the shower, but you know Jungkook’s trying hard to be strong as he cries into your crown, “you should leave before I wake up, just in case.” 

“Hoseok and I will handle it,” Jungkook assures you, “we’re like the Power Rangers, defenders of space and time.” 

“Alright Red Ranger, make sure you’re at least clothed before I wake up, then.” 

He pulls away lightly, seeing your equally red-rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. Both of you bump arms as you try to wipe away each other’s tears. The moon continues its power over your bodies, the only source of light in the room. Despite its movement since your time at the beach, it continues to illuminate the room and make the moment glisten with the rhythm of time. 

“You really think this is the end for us, huh?” his voice cracks, his hands cradling your face. 

Stretching to reach him, you press a kiss on every available centimeter of skin on his face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. You take care to kiss the tears away, silently wishing nothing but the best for him. He immediately melts into your touch, and he gives you a teary smile. 

“It’s not the end,” you assure, “it’s our beginning. Thank you, for loving me.” 

Jungkook nods, pressing a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you again.” 

The two of you sleep like that, not with a goodbye, but with a promise. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1. 

When you wake up, it’s loud. 

The transition is jarring, painfully so. Gone are your soft flannel comforter, replaced with dry, scratchy sheets that are a poor excuse for bedwear. Your hands are heavy, bounded by the fluids snaking into your bloodstream. Your eyes are crusty and bleary, taking in the plain white and wood room. The sharp sound of the monitor reverberates in your ears, a high-pitched reminder of your slow vitals. 

Everything is painful, confirming that in fact you did get hit by that truck. You give props to your alternate self for dealing with this for the past two months. 

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the night sky and the full moon looming above you. The only other person in the room is your baby niece, who is just short of five years old. She has since ceased coloring at her little table, her little mouth gaping open like a pufferfish. You make eye contact with her, and she nearly spills over her 64-count Crayola pack as she throws herself off the chair, running over to reach for your hand. 

“Auntie!” she cheers, the biggest smile on her face, “you’re awake! Mama said you were hibernating like bears do, and that you would probably wake up by spring time. She was right!” 

Although it pains you to smile, you manage to squeeze her hand in return. You open your mouth, the inside feeling tacky and gross. “Ah-ah,” you grimace when no sound comes out, just rasps and ghosts of what once was your voice. 

Your niece’s face crumples, and she lets go of you. “Imma go get mama, she’ll bring help!” 

She leaves you alone to succumb to the beeps of your monitors and the pain in your bones. Your fingers grapple the paper-thin sheets, and your gaze drifts to the moon. You think of Jungkook, sleeping blissfully in bed, holding you with so much tenderness and care. In a matter of what felt like minutes since you fell asleep in his arms, disappears just like that. 

The doctors and your family find you hysterically crying, the monitors going crazy as you hyperventilate yourself into a stupor. You feel like you’re choking on air, whatever little tubes in your body restricting access to fully express how torn and conflicted you’re feeling all over again. The medical expertise does work to evacuate your family, chalking your reactions up as your trauma catching up to you and the shock of the past two months hitting you full force. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s nearly 3AM when the music cuts out with no explanation, and Jungkook is annoyed. He just got that set down and he finally felt confident in adding facial expressions, but the manager killed the music and now his head is spinning. 

He’s heaving, hands on his head as he tries to get his body back to equilibrium. He watches intently as Namjoon immediately takes the call, not even bothering to leave the studio to answer it. The rest of the members watch as Namjoon’s expressions morph into happiness, combined with short “yes”es and “I understands.” 

Namjoon makes eye contact with Jungkook first and beams, “She’s awake!” 

What originally felt like a hot and stifling room, immediately dissipates into an air of relief. While not all the members may not know you personally, the thought of a fellow co-worker on the road to recovery is enough to ease their exhaustion. 

“What?” Jungkook doesn’t hide it, and collapses on the floor, thoroughly spent for today. “Is she okay?” 

“Well, she actually just passed out. But she’s conscious.” 

“What, why?” Jimin asks, rolling a water bottle over to Jungkook. 

“Doctors say she woke up in a panic, started freaking out when it sunk in that she’s been in a coma since winter.” Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully of the thought of you scared and feeling trapped in that small hospital bed. 

“Well, can we go see her in the morning?” Jungkook says hopefully, biting his lip. 

“We can’t,” Namjoon confesses, looking down at his shoes in disappointment, “at least not right now. y/n was apparently terrified. The doctors think she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, because she can’t recall anything that happened after she got hit. Her guardians are sending her to a facility for her to process her trauma. It’s in the countryside, and she’s not allowed visitors until she’s fully recovered.” 

Just when Jungkook thinks he has you back, you’re already far from his reach. He should be happy, knowing that you are well on your way to get better. He’s thankful enough that you’re finally awake. But the small, selfish part of him wants to visit you, and comfort you. 

Whether you’ll let him or not is your choice, but this time, he decides he’s going to fight for you. 

[finalsegamangalover]

“Time is Precious” ( Rufus x Reader)

You couldn’t help but keep looking over at the note card that now rested beside your bedside table. Smiling a little at the comfort it brought just by its presence alone. The words written clearly in black ink, its intentions were even more heartfelt than you felt recently. A sense of darkness tried to overcome your thoughts but that note held you. Again you reread it for what seems like the hundredth time smiling inwardly. 

“Come by and visit, I’ve missed having a good chat with you like old times. I hope you’ll show tomorrow morning at 9am. Yours Truly, R.S.” 

You couldn’t believe it at first, even thought of it as a cruel joke at times but something inside you wanted to trust this note. Recently, you’ve heard that he became some hot shot President of a company god knows what. He was making it big in his life as did most people think; afterall he was charming and mysterious altogether. What would a guy like him see in me? I'm just someone beneath him or so you thought. 

Morning came and a knock was heard at your door roughly around 8am. You fixed yourself a little before approaching the door, opening it a bit nervously. No one you knew was coming around this early; you were greeted by a strangely tall man with long dark hair and gorgeous eyes. A nicely dressed man addressed you in such a velvety tone. 

“Hello?” you spoke. 

“Ah yes, Y/N?” he replied tilting his head slightly. 

“Yes..” you answered him crossing your arms over your chest to shield you from the chill. You couldn’t tell if it was the weather or his aura, it was kind of difficult. He cleared his throat, maintaining eye contact as he placed a gloved hand to his chest. 

“My name is Tseng, leader of the General Administrative Department Research from ShinRa Corp. I was wondering if you received an invitation recently by a man named Rufus.” He asked calmly. Your eyes widen a little. A Turk? 

“Y-yes..” you said kind of weakly. You were bewildered. He smiled slightly at your response but held up a hand to try to calm your weariness. 

“I’m here to take you to meet him. If you are ready let me know.” Tseng said cooly. You kept blinking a bit before nodding. 

“I’ll be back in a minute, thank you..” was all you said before closing the door. Oh god what were you thinking!? A turk member was here for you to see Rufus? Your best friend since childhood, Rufus?! THE RUFUS SHINRA HIMSELF!?!?!! 

As you tried to calm your senses you began to run up the stairs and quickly change. You grabbed your wallet and shoved it into your pocket before lacing up your shoes; styling your hair a bit whilst fixing any bumps in the fabric by smoothing them out. The last thing you did was placed on your favorite bracelet. You stopped for a brief second to admire the dainty object dangling along your wrist; along with it did you remember the memories it accompanied. To which also included a memory of why this gift was so special to you. This was the last object you received from him before he left for Midgar. That day was terrible, it felt like the world was crashing inwards when you heard Rufus had to leave. Rufus wasn’t exactly a people person but he always did take an interest into you; he’d always seemed amused and aspired altogether. Regardless of his popularity amongst your peers he always seemed to come to you and only you in most scenarios. You’d tell it like it is to him and he respected that aspect; something about having people know what they want made his heart skip a beat. It was a strong personality within his family so seeing in someone else kind of surprises Rufus. He literally loved that about you. In return all he could provide was to listen to you and he genuinely cared, whether it was to protect you from a local bully or for you to talk to him in private about your family life. He always seemed to understand and sympathize with you no matter the situation. Granted, he didn’t have much of a family life either and no siblings to boot but that didn’t stop him from making friends. You never forget the times you spent with him playing at school or hanging out by the river on a warm spring afternoon. You remembered what it was like being happy for a change and to have comfort in knowing he would be there for you. 

Shaking your head, pushing the memories aside and back into reality, you headed down the stairs grabbing your vest before opening the door greeting Tseng once more. He nodded and guided you to a completely decked out hummer opening the door like a gentleman. Strange that a professional would choose a vehicle like this but given the terrain and how far out of the city, a limo wouldn’t be the wisest choice. You swallowed your courage and hopped in as Tseng followed suit directing the driver to ShinRa Corp. in Sector 0. 

Tseng guided you again inside this gargantuan building and up the elevator to Rufus’ Office. He signaled you to wait for a moment before knocking and entering. You heard voices inside the room and quickly looked down at your feet. You were intimidated yes, but anticipation also had a grasp as well. Both emotions kept fighting for your attention until Tseng reappeared and held the door open, smiling. A chill ran through you again, so it wasn’t the weather then. 

“He's waiting for you now Miss Y/N.” Tseng stated before closing it behind you, footsteps echoing the hallways. Blinking from the sound and turning your attention forward there you saw Rufus staring right back at you; his hands locked together in front of his face resting elbows on the darkened desk as his knee jossiled nervously. Thankful for it to conceal his weakness. His smile began to appear as his eyes lit up with emotions. You smiled warmly to his expression as he began to speak. 

“Y/N, it's so good to see your face again! How wondrous of you to respond so quickly as well. Come sit down with me, I’ve missed you dearest friend.” Rufus was genuine in his tone but those word choices seemed a bit odd. Also you realized how generous puberty was to him as his voice melted like velvet in the air. A subtle blush decorated your cheeks thanking the shadows for coverage a bit. You weren’t going to fight his request so you did as asked, he leaned back in his chair as the leather creased. Nervously, you smiled sitting comfortably in the height difference. 

“You haven’t changed a bit Rufus.” you claimed teasingly as he smirked to your comment.

“Well it goes both ways my dear Y/N, tell me what’s new with you? How is your family?” He sounded like his old self now, that cute little kid who came to you. You folded your hands along your knees as you spoke to him about how your family has taken the turn for worse, your job almost shutting down thanks to poor choice in location, and how school tuition was building up higher. On the contrary, you left out the depression that continuously grasped at your thoughts at night. The pangs of loneliness didn’t help either but again that note card reappeared in the back of your mind. You wanted to tell him so badly but you felt that sense of worthlessness and knowing his job title practically clawed for his attention it sounded meaningless to speak up. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your family passing during the plate drop incident of Sector 7…” Rufus sounded sincere. Another weight of guilt applied itself to his heart as the words spilled from your delicate mouth. He also noticed the shimmering from the bracelet he gave as you adjusted your vest, smiling a little at the sentiment and memory together. Something both an image beyond beautiful words. Then something stirred inside of him; a glistening drop fell from your cheek as your head bowed from the pain of the past. Rufus’ eyes widened in concern with a frown he leaned forward a bit finding the air to be sucked out of him. His chest tightened as he heard your voice quiver. He didn’t want to cause you grief as his team of Turks did to many people within the city on that day. Swiftly his movement rounded the desk and knelt quietly placing a hand on yours. 

One of Rufus’ hands grazed gently along the side of your cheek brushing the hair aside along with it. His smile was warming and sincere as a tear fell from your cheek, your eyes widened in awestruck at his behavior. Rufus’ voice was sentimentally sweet as his words rolled angelically from the most beautiful mouth tickling your senses. 

“I promise you, if ever you need help with anything. Anything at all, please do not hesitate to come to me directly. You have my honor and my-..” He blushed a bit as the words held captive in his throat. How could words choke him like this in a manner such as now? He seemed foolish to himself but her eyes told him he was winning. 

“Your what..” you whispered as his vision lost in your gaze. He slowly leaned in and placed the softest kiss along your lips. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, his feelings were starting to show through. The kiss was slow and sweet, not too much pressure but just enough to deliver the message across. A yearning since childhood did he confess to. 

“You have my heart..” He whispered once the kiss broke free. You're also blushing with fresh tears tracing the curvature of your face. His thumb brushed them away as his eyes started to become rim with red. He knew deep down he’d cared for you in a special nature, nothing like anyone else would, this was his promise to you now as it was ten years ago. 

“...Rufus…” was all you could say before he held a finger to your lips. You didn’t deserve him, you didn’t want to bother him, you’ve dealt with this pain for so long you can do so without him knowing it. 

“Not another word. I mean it Y/N. I owe you everything, ever since my family and moved here. Don’t ever feel burdened by taking my time, I give it to you because you are so precious to me..” He confessed all this time how she meant towards him. He felt responsible for her suffrage. 

“Rufus I do not deserve y-”

“What did I just say…” Rufus’s eyes flickered with more emotions. You looked at him confused as he frowned. 

“I know depression when I see it, I also know anxiety too. It's becoming more and more powerful on you and I cannot accept the fact how it troubles you so. My feelings for you are true even if you don’t return the same-..” He was cut off as you leaned into his arms placing a more heated kiss along his lips. Your hands touched along his biceps and chest as his arms gripped along your hips pulling you closer to him. His kiss became more and more desperate as you both relished the feeling. The commotion from within his office must’ve set off a concern for Tseng barged it open and searched the area. You felt startled and scared as he held you protectively. Tseng scanned the area and drew his attention to Rufus' eyes blinking in bewilderment.

“Is there a problem?! Step outside!” Rufus barked as Tseng followed orders. Rufus, embarrassed at the sudden showmanship of his highest workers, placed a hand to his forehead. 

“I apologize for the scare, perhaps another time will be best to catch up.” Rufus sounded dejected at the thought, how was she supposed to find time for him? He sounded like an immature brat demanding something when he knew deep down he didn’t deserve. Your gaze slowly followed the length of his arm along his nape and into those cerulean eyes. His scent became more noticeable as you nodded. Rufus found the urge to smile as his hand took yours one more time smoothly interlocking his fingers with yours. 

“Tell you what, I’ll arrange a setting for us to be together. I’ll take you out for lunch or dinner somewhere, you can decide the place if you wish.” 

"Okay.. Thank you Rufus..” you whispered as he rested his head against yours.

“No, thank you..” he replied as you both sat there together in each other’s arms. This sense of comfort was pure bliss and you were both thankful for this moment. The simple touch of him burned within you as your voice echoed in his perfect ears.

[shhhlikeme]

Hi love, just wanted to say that you’re so gorgeous and have a lovely smile. I’m a dark skin black girl and have often been told/read hurtful posts about us, but now I’m more confident than ever about being a dark skin girl 🥰.If it’s not too much to ask could you do any character you want with that has a date with his s/o and when he arrives she just glowing in her yellow dress. Like idk if you get the vibe I’m tryna put down but the melanin is hitting different 🤤

Thank you so much for the compliments omg ❤️❤️❤️

BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE beautiful! I know black women don’t hear that a lot and that’s why I will tell y’all everyday if I need to. Also, today is national economic blackout day for the culture, therefore I waited to post this today.

& as per your message I absolutely get the vibe!!!!! And you know I had to choose the GOAT Akaashi for this since you left it up to me👀

Here goes:

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Akaashi Keiji x Black Crush In a Beautiful Yellow Dress (Fluff)

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Akaashi was NOT ready.

You and Akaashi had been besties for 10 or so years, because your moms have been in the same book club since elementary school

Even though you recently graduated from to different high schools, you both had a good and healthy friendship

You knew that he wasn’t big on talking a lot but you spoke even less than him so it honestly worked well

He was into volleyball and you were really serious about dance

Your moms would always say you just “get” eachother

To Keiji, he was content with having the best of both worlds as best friends: Bokuto: the loud boisterous one, and You: the quiet, beautiful one

Wait did he say beautiful? He meant um... the quiet, wallflower one. sure

Nah he definitely meant beautiful too.

Tbh, Akaashi was very attracted to you via your personality because you were thoughtful, intelligent and relaxing to be around

He thinks of you as the human embodiment of a warm bath at the end of a moving day

And as for your looks.....

Bokuto put his best friends physical attraction to you into words best when he said:

“You want to have Y/N’s babies, don’t you Akaashi? Hmmmmm?”

Akaashi, deadpanning asf, would always answer

“No I do not.”

But when Bokuto would continuously catch him on your instagram page he would keep asking like the pushy friend he is.

At Bokuaka sleepovers, or when they were completely alone is the only time Akaashi would reluctantly but honestly respond to Bokuto’s question with a:

“I wouldn’t mind.”

which is basically undying admission of love by Akaashi standards

Basically, he was crushing on you hard

He admired your dark hair that you always changed into different styles because he never understood how you made them all look attractive

He admired your full lips that he always seemed to have to internally yell at himself to stop staring at when you spoke

He admired your kind and gentle spirit that always seemed to gravitate toward earth tones in attire-expression and he never seemed to understand why

He guessed that being the wallflower that you are; dark colours like black, brown, beige, grey, moss, etc. Acted as a shield as to not bring too much attention to you

He didn’t really care that you stuck to wearing earth tones because you looked beautiful no matter what you wore

But in his dreams he’d always pictured you in bright pink, blue, orange lingerie shirts

He was curious so he asked one day

totally not because he wanted to know how realistic his dreams could be

“Y/N, why do you only wear dark colours?” Asked the most beautiful guy in the world Akaashi as he turned the steering wheel making a left onto the parkway.

The two of you were going to his brother’s wedding rehearsal dinner. You had decided to wear a simple dark button down blouse tucked into a grey pencil skirt. Your curly hair was up in a messy bun and you had your glasses on. You thought you looked whatever.

Akaashi, on the other hand, thought you looked stunning. And like a hot librarian. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the road and not your exposed legs as you sat beside him in the passenger seat.

“Do I?” You looked down at yourself and sighed. You’d never really noticed before, but he was right. You just felt more comfortable in tones that didn’t make you stand out.

“Yeah. Why don’t you try wearing a bright colour sometime? I think......I think you’d look really nice.” Keiji’s eyes looked unaffected as ever but inside he was kicking himself for flirting with you, knowing how shy you are.

“Oh, okay.” Your heart fluttered at your friend’s compliment and you distracted yourself by taking your eyeglasses off and using your blouse collar to clean it where it opened on your chest.

Akaashi almost crashed because when you did that your blouse opened more exposing your glowing chocolate skin. In his mind, his imagination took over and he pulled over to ravish your beautiful skin by ripping open the blouse and kissing your gorgeous dark skin. His eyes glazed over as he imagined you telling him that you want him closer than this car allowed and so he dropped your seat down and got on top of you, kissing your delicious lips and then going back to taste your delicious skin. You were moaning in his ear which was the best sound he’s ever heard and then it was his turn to moan when you reached down to stroke his hard........

“KEIJI-SAN WATCH OUT!”

Keiji was thrust back into reality when he rapidly swerved back into his own car lane. The first thing he did was check to see if you were okay and he was able to breathe again when he saw you looking back at him laughing that angelic laugh. You placed your glasses back on your beautiful face and Akaashi apologized. He asked if you were scared and wanted him to stop driving because he was obviously a new driver. You only placed a hand on his arm and shook your head, assuring him in your quiet voice.

“It’s okay Kashi’, I know you’re a great driver. I trust you.”

“Y-you do?”

“Of course. I trust you more than anyone.” You gave him that smile that he thinks about before he goes to sleep every night and just like that he relaxed and all was well in the world again. He thought back to Bokuto’s daily question, admitting to himself that he not only wanted to have your babies, he wanted to have the pleasure of calling you his girlfriend or anything higher. He’d definitely accept wife.

“Maybe I’ll go shopping with my mom and find a colour to wear to the wedding, you know, take your advice.”

“That would be great.” He pulled into the beach wedding venue parking lot. “I’m ready to see the new Y/N.”

But Akaashi was NOT ready

He was absolutely the furthest thing from ready, 3 weeks later, when he picked you up on his brothers wedding day.

He knew you were still getting ready inside and so he decided to enjoy the weather and lean on his car hood to wait

You never took long because you were a natural beauty, but you put on a little bit of makeup today

You grabbed your clutch and touched up your edge control before spritzing yourself with some of Akaashi’s favourite perfume

You went outside and locked your door.

Turning around, you literally wanted to freeze this moment in time, because THE Keiji Akaashi—literally the most stunning boy 90% of girls have ever seen—was standing outside of his car, much to your surprise

He had his navy blue tuxedo jacket folded over his left arm and he wore a light grey dress shirt underneath held together by a black bow tie. His disheveled hair looked like he had sat in the barber chair of Jesus himself and he hadn’t noticed your arrival yet since you were still on the steps of your deck.

You took a second to compose yourself before stepping toward him as if everything was normal—as if you weren’t lawlessly crushing on this man.

Hearing your heels clack on the smoothed pavement, Akaashi lifted his head up to see you

Remember when I said he was not ready?

Allow me to show you exactly what he wasn’t ready for:

Akaashi felt as though all the air left his lungs when he saw you.

He told you to wear a bright colour but he didn’t know the yellow dress and your dark skin-combo would make him feel like crying

After seeing you in greys and blacks and dull nudes his whole life and still looking pretty, he couldn’t handle himself when you wore a colour that accurately communicated how he sees you: like his literal light

“Good God,” Akaashi gulped.

Keiji is a well-known quiet guy, but even his loudest friend Bokuto wouldn’t be able to beat how loud his emotions screamed at him from inside when he looked at you. You literally had him by the heartstrings, looking like that.

He realized that he is embarassed to admit all that he would give to see you in a yellow bra and panty set.

You smiled up and him and did a spin, so he could see the full picture of the dress. His eyes missed the dress because he couldn’t stop looking at your face.

“I saw it on a mannequin at the mall the other day and never thought my skin would go with it... but after what you said I went back to get it and—“

“Y/N. You— you look—-that colour—-your skin—-You—I—Good....God,” he repeated himself. Akaashi was only slightly disappointed that he couldn’t express to you how much your skin tone WAS MADE for this colour. You were magical.... a queen.

He didn’t want to go to his brothers wedding anymore. He wanted to stand there and stare at the way the sunlight hit your complexion and glistened. He wanted to stand there and have you spin around for him again. He wanted to have your mf-ing babies.

“You’re doing that thing again, Kashi. The thing you did in the car? Don’t we have to go pick up Bokuto, now? Let’s go!”

You gave him a ‘chop chop’ snap and climbed in the car.

When you got in you were so thankful for your dark skin because your blush wasn’t showing. The way your best friend has been looking at you was too passionate, too deep, too full of emotional and physical desire. It made you want to tell him your feelings.

outside, Keiji had still been in a trance, letting out one more “Good.....God,” before he had to literally slapped himself and hopped in the car.

Think of Bokuto Think of Bokuto Think of Bokuto, he chanted internally before pulling out of your driveway.

Speaking of the devil......

“AKAAAASHI!” Yelled his grey-headed best friend as he pulled open the back door of his car. “And, who’s that—wait—Y/N?!”

You gave your best friend’s best friend a weak smile. You were so embarassed by the way he was looking at you.

Bokuto slammed the door behind him and applauded loudly. “Now, I’ve always been jealous whenever you take my Akaashi away from me because he wants to spend time with you, but now I understand why. You’re a 10 when you aren’t hiding behind those freaking vampire colours!!!”

“Bokuto.” Akaashi reprimanded his annoying friend and Bokuto pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key.

Meanwhile, you were regretting wearing this colour. It drew the attention that you always tried hard to avoid.

Akaashi noticed your internal regret, even while driving....so he reached over to place a hand on your thigh.

“Y/N, you said you trust me right?”

You looked at him for a second before nodding.

Keiji elevated at the admission. “Then, trust me when I say you look beautiful. I’m so happy you wore that dress today.”

You smiled, that smile only reserved for him again, and he just about proposed on the spot.

“AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!! Hey, hey, hey! Maybe you two love birds should be the ones getting marr—“

Akaashi deadpanned in the rear view mirror, catching Bokuto’s eye immediately. “Bokuto.”

Frightened, Bokuto muttered a quick “Shutting up.” Before actually doing so.

Don’t get him wrong. Akaashi was happy to have his best guy friend at the wedding.

Very happy.

Because Boku was like an alarm...warning him whenever he was acting like a freak around the the girl he has a crush on

Bokuto would just nudge him and smirk whenever Akaashi was drawing attention to himself because he was looking at you in the crowd when his attention should be on his brother and his fiancé saying their vows.

When Akaashi saw you and your mom run over to dip your feet in the water on the beach, then run away because a cold wave hit up to your shins, your smile radiant and your yellow dress flying in the wind, Bokuto nudged him again because he was staring when he had to take pictures with the groom

At night, when Keiji was throwing back shots way more than Bokuto knew his best friend to even like, simply because one of his brothers groomsmen had been talking to you for the better part of the hour and he didn’t fucking like it, Bokuto not only nudged Keiji but he told the bartender to cut him off.

“Go talk to Y/N.” Bokuto grabbed the drink out of Keiji’s hand and drank it.

Akaashi shook his head. “No. S-she’s out of my league.”

Bokuto scoffed. “You do know that you’re literally the best looking person I’ve ever seen in my life right? Like seriously. You look like your face was made in a fucking lab. By chicks. By hot chicks, like Y/N, working together to come up with concoctions to Science their way to make the best looking dude—“

Keiji rolled his eyes. “Is there a point coming at the end of this?”

“Yeah. There is, impatient pants. I was going to say that I wonder if the hot chicks who made you wore bikinis the whole time while they leaned over eachother fighting over the pencil for the blueprint sketches—“

“A point about Y/N, Bokuto! Y/N. The only girl I care about. The only girl I want to talk about. Come back down to this earth. Where. Is. The. Point?”

“Oh. Yeah. Geez, take a chill pill will ya?”

“Bokuto......” He warned. Already on edge because you were now slow dancing with that guy at the wedding instead of being the wallflower you usually were. He liked it better when he was the only one who noticed you. In a way.... But then he remembered how colourful you looked when you got complimented all day and he immediately retracted the thought. Akaashi wanted nothing more than for you to reach your fullest potential, and wearing colours that expressed your beauty would be step one. He yearned to be the one who could bring you up the rest of the steps, because he’d tell you everyday how damn amazing you are. He just wished you weren’t so damn alluring to the majority of men.

Bokuto held his hands up in surrender. “Damn! Okay. Look, my point is...that it doesn’t matter how good looking you are or Y/N is, because everyone knows that even if you two were fugly you’d still have the love story of the generation because your connection is on a whole other level.”’

“What?” Keiji jeered. He didn’t like the idea of your name and ‘anything but beautiful’ being in the same sentence.

“Man, chill. Look, I won’t say anything else. I’m just going to grab Y/N from Mr. I-Didn’t-Make-It-To-The-NFL-But-I-Can-Still-Pull-A-Trophy-Wife over there. When she gets here, try not to ‘Good God’ her to death, hm? She’s gorgeous, yes, but like I said—so are you. Inside and out.”

Without listening to his denial like always, Bokuto somehow slipped in to the dance you were currently having and began dancing with Y/N

As a dancer, you loved moments when you could do it, and Akaashi was falling harder for you every time you spun around elegantly

Bokuto made some bs excuse about not being able to dance for long and waved his best friend over

Akaashi’s legs moved automatically because he has been wanting to be near you the entire night.

Like a fairytale ball sequence, Bokuto handed you off and you were now met with the waiting and hesitant arms of your best friend

Keiji asked if it was alright to touch your waist and you smiled and said yes

As you two danced, you going at the pace you knew Akaashi would be best at.....you took a second to really feel the energy

Your bodies were like magnets and you two were feeling the pull like never before

you leaned forward to rest your head against your best friends chest as you settled into a simple back and forth sway

As he held your waist closer and rubbed his thumbs soothingly in the crevice of your back dimples......

You understood that what you were now feeling was love

What you’ve been feeling for months, what you felt when you spoke to him of trust, when you watched him drive, when he put an extra blanket on you when you two watched movies, when he looked at you in your yellow dress, when you rested your head on his chest.....your mind, body and soul were all telling you one thing. They were louder than ever now. Shouting at you to tell Akaashi those 3 magic words so you two could see where the next level of your relationship would take you. It wouldn’t take much to say—

“I love you.”

Flabbergasted with yourself, you jumped back from his chest so you were looking at him. You couldn’t believe you had the audacity to say it!!!!!

Your mind now jumbled, you thought of an excuse to blame it on the 0% alcohol you had had before you realized..........that you don’t have a deep voice............nor have you opened your mouth since you rested your head on your best friend’s chest.......

“Wh-what?” You asked breathlessly.

Akaashi was looking down at you, confident that he had made you wear a dress that brought out your beauty so fiercely that it ultimately forced him to confess.

“I love you, Y/N. And if we’re always talking about trust......Then trust me when I tell you that I think I always have.”

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

I find I enjoy writing both nsfw and fluff equally and you guys request it basically half and half, so the next post will be much more smutty cause you know--balance. 

[jimlingss]

The Devil’s Advocate

➜ Words: 11.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Smut, Devil!AU

➜ Summary: The devil is a lazy. selfish. bastard. He never shows up for work and forces you to take his place at the gates of Hell. But when he follows you on your vacation — you have an inkling of his intentions. After all, you are his advocate.

➜ Warnings: Implied smut, violence, killing, etc.

There’s a proverb out there that says: talk of the devil and he is sure to appear.   But no matter how much you talk, curse, and wish for him to show up to his damned job — he never does. So because of him, every single day in this burning inferno eternity, you're always running.   "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"   The guards step swiftly away as you sprint past with fire on your heels — they're not unfamiliar with this sort of sight. After all, the same thing happens day in and day out.   Yoongi is seated at his desk, feet propped up on the surface of said desk. He’s casually leaning back on his chair, elbow propped up on the armrest, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. “You're late.”   “I know.” You’re heaving for air while balancing the pile of file folders and paperwork that goes over your head. You drop it on your desk with a massive thump that teeters the desk’s legs from the sheer force and has the people wincing.   He would make another snarky comment but your deep eye bags and trembling hands are pitiful enough.   “Alright.” The angel stands onto his feet again. “First person, please.”   One of Yoongi's assistance in her white robes looks down at the clipboard and calls the next dead soul that's been in line. “Kim Namjoon.”   Immediately, you shuffle your files to find the right one, struggling in the mess of yet another late night. In the meanwhile, the man steps up with a nervous posture, reverent with his hands folded in front of him and Yoongi reads from his own papers.   “Alright. Looks like you were an academic most of your life. A very quiet existence, huh? Never married or any kids. Let's see here. Oh. You dedicated your life to research of koala birth control. A very good contribution to society. You volunteered at soup kitchens a lot too — even on the day of your death.”   “I like to help people,” the man pipes up in a timid mutter.   Yoongi's cat-like eyes flicker to the top of his paper, having never asked him to speak. And the glare from the angel has the man tight-lipped again. “Your history shows you were very altruistic. Looks like you can head to heaven.”   “Wait!” You stand up once you finally find the right file, stopping the soul before it can take a step closer towards the glowy gates.    At your rebuttal, Yoongi rolls his eyes and plops back down into his swivel chair.   “Here we go again....”   You hold the file up. “Kim Namjoon, you were at Imlings Street on October twenty fifth, twenty nineteen, correct?”   “Y-Yes?” The deceased human swallows hard, not sure where you're going with this. But he’s undoubtedly nervous that you're speaking, after all you’re the woman in bright carmine. Namjoon looks at the angel for help but Yoongi doesn't even blink. “I worked near there.”   “And you were there that night at ten?”   “I-I don't remember.”   “Well, you were celebrating your friend's birthday that night, right?”   “Oh yeah…” His brows furrow as it slowly comes back to him.   “And at some point, you were standing near the corner street near Fifth avenue, correct?”   “Yes...? I suppose.”   “Is it true you could see down the alleyway the restaurant called Dog World?”   Namjoon pales. “Umm....”   The deceased human obviously recalls why this night was significant in particular — and it seems to be a memory that he’s attempted to suppress through his entire lifetime.   “Answer the question, human,” Yoongi sighs, fiddling with a pen in his cup holder.   “Yes.”   “And you witnessed a woman being murdered, correct?”   The man nearly starts sobbing. He whimpers, and manages a slight nod.   “We need you to speak, Mr. Kim.”   “Yes!” he shouts, distressed.    “You did nothing to stop it, right?”   “I...I couldn’t!”   “Well, you didn't call the police?”   “I didn't.”   “You just left while the woman was being murdered.” As you speak, the man starts wailing hysterically, aware of where this is going. He attempts to beg for forgiveness, but neither you nor Yoongi pay any mind. It’s always the last moments that humans are filled with regret — the moments when it matters, not the moments when it didn’t. “Are you aware that the omission to act when you have a moral duty to is a grave sin?”   He hiccups, sobbing.   “It is equally as bad to be a bystander as a perpetrator,” you continue. “You could've saved her.”   Yoongi waves his hand. “Alright, alright. You've convinced us.” The angel spares the man from being berated and grilled, granting him at least a bit of mercy. “You're going to hell.”   “No! No!”    He howls at the top of his lungs, but the two guards grab each side of him and begin dragging him past you. The barbed, black gates open wide to welcome him in, creaking on their hinges, and his scream is heard echoing as he’s thrown down the red-glowing, inferno pit.   You don’t know why they’re always crying — it’s kind of insulting to your home.   Hell’s not that bad.   “Next person!” Yoongi calls.   When humans die, most of their souls rise to purgatory — an empty void of nothingness — where they stand in a single-file line waiting to get to the gates. There, the devil and an angel representative come to judge where the soul shall reside as each come up one by one.    But the devil never shows up to do his job, to serve judgment to human souls.   You’re his substitute.    You’re the devil’s advocate.   “Am I going to see you tomorrow?”   It’s been a long day and you feel your eyeballs burning as you pack up the mess of your files. You’ll have to sort them again, but for now, you stuff whatever you can back into your briefcase.   “No, it's my day off. Jimin'll probably be here instead.” Yoongi sips the glittering golden liquid in his chalice. Angels — always so pretentious. “Let me guess, you’ll still be here.”   “Hopefully not.” There’s a small smile gracing your lips, but it’s futile. Everyone knows you’ll have to show up. The lazy devil never shows up and does his own bidding.   “You’re overworking yourself, Y/N,” Yoongi mumbles in disgust as he watches you try to pile your stack of papers that’s practically teetering from side to side. “Haven’t you thought about going on vacation or something?”   “Vacation?” you exhale, arms straining under the weight.   His eyes light up as he remembers something. “Have you ever heard about that famous cruise? What was it again?” Yoongi looks over at his assistant and her eyes flicker up.   “Sins Cruise Line,” she deadpans.   He snaps his fingers. “Right. I heard it was amazing. Each day is dedicated to a deadly sin or something. Too bad they only have it in hell — makes me want to visit some time. But does the publicity live up to the name?”   “How am I supposed to know?”   Yoongi’s eyes dim. His excitement dies on the spot. “Of course you wouldn’t.” The angel grabs his briefcase. “Well see you some time, Y/N. I’m going to my vacation home over the long weekend.”   “Goodbye, Yoongi.”   He enters the gates of Heaven and disappears from sight. You go on your own way, bringing your tall files back. But his words stick to you. They’re devilishly tempting.   //   You’re writing away on parchment with your quill dipped with black ink, preparing more documents and affidavits. But you stop momentarily to roll your neck and ease your tense muscles. You lean back in your chair, staring around at the red room you’re in, and the tiny desk that you occupy. Across the room is the devil’s desk, large and imposing, with an uncomfortable chair across his velvet one. Though the surface has collected a thick layer of dust on the surface.   “Debra!” you shout her name and the sluggish secretary comes in. She has gray hair, kitten heels clicking on the scarlet carpet, skirt past her knees. The demon woman reminds you of church-goer humans who often shout profanities at you as if they’re attempting to exorcise you while you’re just trying to make a legal case — they frequently run into Yoongi’s arms too, impressing neither you nor him.   “Yes?”   You set your quill down. “Have you ever heard of Sins Cruise Line?”   She exhales in exhaustion. “Can’t say I have…”   “Well...then. Umm, can you find me a pamphlet of theirs?”   She stares and then slowly turns away from the room without acknowledgment.   But the secretary eventually comes back half an hour later and slaps the rectangular papers to your desk. She turns away, returning to her front desk, and while you try to focus on your work until the next break, the temptation of the pamphlet sitting at the corner becomes too strong.   You put down your quill to open it.   At once, your pupils dilate. There’s a picture of the glorious red sea, the colour of crimson and a white pristine ship on it. Your indulgence is ours. How fancy. It looks like there’s a variety of facilities and lots of activities to do. It looks fantastic and your muscles are already relaxing as you look at the pictures.   But you can’t….   You can’t just leave your job….   Can you?

Turns out you can — that it is in fact possible.   It’s so surreal, you can’t believe that you’ve somehow managed to actually get time off, that the infamously lazy devil actually agreed to it and will come back to work so you can take a break.   Now you’re standing on the harbour with your suitcase in hand, staring at the white ship in front of you. Yoongi would be proud.   “Cocktail?”   The worker hands one to you on his platter, and you hesitate. “Can I really?”   “Of course.” He grins. “Your indulgence is our pleasure.”   You hold the cool glass while stepping onto the incline to get on the ship’s deck. The chilling wind entwines into your hair and you sip the liquid, your feet afloat already. “Welcome aboard to Sins Cruise Line! Your indulgence is our pleasure!”   The workers wave, giving a warm welcome with perfect smiles. You might be in Heaven.   “We can show you the way to your room. What is your name?”   “Y/N L/N.” One of the demon women takes a look at your ticket and smiles. “Right this way.”   After a millennium of working, this is what you deserve.   You’re given a short, brief tour of the massive cruise ship. “—week-long, each day to indulge in a deadly sin—” And not long after are you brought to your modest-sized ocean view room. “—canal surrounds hell. It’s quite lovely during the night when the water glows red. Have you ever seen it before?”   “No, I can’t say that I have,” your voice trails off and you look at towels shaped into animals on your bed as well as the edible arrangement on your coffee table. “Wow….”   “I’m glad you like it. It’s all complimentary,” the girl giggles. “I should also tell you that today is dedicated to greed. We’ll be having a gambling night down at the casino floor starting in the evening. Other than that, feel free to ask anything whatsoever. We’ll always be around.”   “Thank you.”   And you’re sincere about your gratitude. You’ve never experienced something like this before.   You flop down onto the soft bed before getting up after a moment. There’s too much to explore, too much to see than to stay in a small space between four walls. You’ve done that enough and you find yourself quickly slipping away from your room.   As you pace the area, you muse that you could potentially spend the rest of your existence on this ship, indulging like you should be, giving into temptation, living in a daze, high on bliss—   “Where’s my refill?! I’ve been waiting for five minutes!”   Your smile falls. Goosebumps raise all over your body. The barking voice is so familiar that it sends chills down your spine. It’s an automatic response, like a dog made on alert, and your head swivels over.   Instantaneously, your eyes connect to darker ones. They’re pools of deep brown nearing black. And the corner of their plump lip tugs into a sly smirk.   What the hell was the devil doing here?   “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He abandons his drink on the tray of the server that just rushed over and ignores him in favour of you. The devil makes long strides across the deck towards you and when you stumble back, his smile widens into a friendlier one. Had you blinked, you would’ve missed the sparkle of dangerous mischief in his eyes. “What a coincidence.”   “A coincidence?!”   You’re unintentionally cowering lower than him, posture bending to his imposing aura. He looms over you with his tall height, covering you with his shadows that seems to snicker.   “Course it would be. What? You think I followed you here?”   That’s exactly it — you put in a note requesting time off, and when he asked where you were going via letter, you wrote it down. There’s no way that this was a mere coincidence.   But you don’t dare say it out loud.   “Who’s….who’s working?”   He grins. Of course the first question you would ask him is about work.   “I put Taehyung in charge.”   “He’s not trained!” you hiss in distress, just considering the wrong things he’ll do, the trouble he’ll cause and mess he’ll make for you to clean up.   But the devil man shrugs. “He’ll be fine. So what are you doing now? This is one hell of a ship, huh?”   You’re in hell.    You’re stuck in the middle of a canal, on a cruise ship, with no escape from Kim Seokjin.   //   What was supposed to be an easy vacation has turned into a nightmare.    Every corner you turn, you peek from it. You slink behind pillars to scan the premise. You crawl in the shadows to—   “Are you lost?”   You jump from your spot, turning to find a short worker, an attendant wearing the cruise uniform while adorning a warm smile.    “You scared the living daylights out of me!” you harshly whisper, holding your hand over your unbeating heart.   “My apologies, ma’am. I was just asking if you’re lost. Or are you looking for the way to the casino for our gambling night?”   That’s right. You’ve lost sight as to why you came here.   It’s supposed to be a break, a break from your job, from your stress, from your intimidating boss that never appears at work anyways. You shouldn’t have lost focus on it. You paid a lot of gold coins to be here.   “Where is it again?”   “Oh, turn to your left, walk down the hall and just take the elevator to the third floor. You’ll be right there! Hard to miss.”   “Thanks…”   You shouldn’t waste such a good trip.   Once you arrive at the floor, the intoxicating air overwhelms your senses. It’s hard to think, and the many lights blind your vision, a mosaic of colours that makes the surroundings a whirlwind. There’s the crisp sound of cards divided up, tables and roulette boards spinning, machines being pulled and coins falling out the slots.   Someone hands you a drink and you grasp onto it to stay grounded. But sipping the liquid only intensifies the experience.   You stand back to watch the demons play, gambling the lives of humans souls indebted to them.   “I was looking for you.” A voice pipes up beside you, and you’re genuinely scared this time.   The entity manifested beside you, looking straight ahead. You wonder why you even tried to run today. There’s no point. He’s the devil.   “Why?”   “Just cause.” Seokjin grins, turning his head to stare at you. He’s dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, black trousers tight around his thighs — he’s missing the traditional, black cape that calls attention whenever he steps into the room. “You’re my favourite little worker. So it’s nice to see you in a different setting.”   You aren’t particularly amused. “Where have you been?”   Seokjin shrugs. “Around.”   You thought because he’d be busy with other affairs which would be understandable considering his status in this realm. But to hear such a nonchalant answer brings forth more questions to your mind. “Why haven’t you been to work?”   “I don’t like work much, but you already knew that.” His eyes twinkle with playfulness and plump lips pull into yet another sly smirk. Jin’s voice moves down a pitch into a rumbling timbre. “Plus, how could I ever replace you? You’re the best at my job.”   You don’t know what to say to that, so you take a sip of your drink. There’s too many questions still left unanswered, but you don’t bother asking.   This is all a game to him anyways. He followed you here to pester you on your break, to ruin your chances of rest.   Seokjin is truly the devil.   “Let’s play a game, Y/N,” he sing-songs. “Should we bet?”   “Bet what?” you ask, hesitating. It was never good to make deals with the devil.   He leans in closer, overwhelming you with his aroma and blocking out the intoxicating air manufactured to create a greedy atmosphere. “If I win, I get to kiss you.”   Seokjin laughs at your disgusted expression. He’s a sadist through and through. The damned devil loves seeing pain on your face.   “And if you win, I’ll come back to work. How about that?”   You don’t get a chance to answer before you’re brought over to the poker table. The two of you play a long game, lifting your cards for only your eyes, pupils flickering up to meet his and trying to read his expression. But you should’ve known. He’s too good at bluffing. He’s the devil after all.   And he always wins.   “A deal’s a deal and you made a deal with the devil.”   Seokjin wolfishly smiles when the pair of you join together again and he taps his pink, plush lips with a single finger. Everything about him is made to tempt others — from his clear skin to his eyes shining with endless greed. There’s a gravitational pull that comes from his perfect exterior. He’s a marble sculpture made from the gods’ temptations.   But you don’t feel seduced as you do feel burdened.   “I never agreed to it, did I?”   The devil’s brow quirks and he bursts out laughing. “Now that’s not fair.”   “No, but it is true.”   You walk away before he can put his mouth on you and above the coins clicking, the machines being pulled, you hear the smirk in his voice. “What a sore loser.”   Seokjin is good at reminding you that you’re in hell.   //   The next morning, there’s a loud knock at your door.   “Room service! Good morning, Miss Y/N.” The worker wheels the whole cart in, and your eyes are wide with what he presents you. There’s more edible arrangements, platter of fruits and vegetables and a whole stack of pancakes. ��I hope I didn’t awake you from any sleep.”   “Oh no, it’s fine.”   The girl beside him clasps her hands together and presents you with a paper package, including advertisements, directory maps, and all the things you need for the day. “Today is wrath day. There will be an anger room where you can beat and smash things until you’re content. Also at noon, there will be human souls up on the top deck that you can freely torture. We collected the scum of the pit and don’t worry, they’ll be disposed there as well.”   “There’s also a complimentary hate letter you can write to the person you most despise,” the demon boy exclaims with a happy grin.   “We won’t send them,” the girl clarifies. “Don’t worry. We burn them in a pit of fire, but hopefully it can ease some of your anger.”   You thank them for their services and they bow their heads, taking their leave. For the first little while, you chew on some breakfast and go through the package. None of the activities seem particularly appealing to you, but you keep an open mind, deciding to head up to the main deck afterwards.   And of course, Seokjin is taking full advantage of the activities.   There’s a blood-curdling scream.   “Arrow, please.” His palm is out and the worker places another arrow in the devil’s hands. Seokjin positions and fires again, piercing the human in the shoulder, pinning him against the wooden wall. There’s another scream that makes you wince from the sheer volume.    It’s like he’s playing darts.   There are screeches everywhere, pain felt but the humans unable to die.   Seokjin catches sight of you as you’re looking around.   “Y/N!” He waves over with an enormous grin. “Come join me.”   “Thank you, but I’d rather not,” you politely decline.   He shakes his head in feigned disapproval, yet continues to draw his bow when another arrow is handed to him. “You’re too uptight. You’re always dealing with souls, don’t you want to play with one?”   “I work with so many souls, I’d rather not have to deal with them on my down time.”   “You always have rebuttals, don’t you?” Seokjin muses, mostly to himself, and then smiles. “But fair enough.”   You step by his side, watching him fire yet another arrow to the human that’s already died.   You must admit, the screams are kind of delightful.    You turn to watch a demon rip apart someone’s limbs and dangle it in front of them, another throwing someone off the ship into the red canal. And you overlook one of the humans in their pen glaring right at you.    He recognizes you.    You’re the one who dragged him here, who judged his soul and deemed him evil enough for hell. He screams and jumps from his pen, escaping the railings with the vigour of a vengeance boiling for an eternity. He swipes a knife from the table of weapons.   There are gasps of workers. Demons that turn. Seokjin’s eyes harden. His arm drops, bow by his side. You look down. The blade of the knife is poking through your abdomen, the tip of it exposed on the other side and shining from the little light of the overcasted red sky.    “You brought me here! Demon! Witch! You—”   “You know I can’t die, right?” you interrupt with half a glare, more annoyed than anything.   You pull the blade out of you and the metal clangs on the wooden deck. The workers rush over and five of them apprehend the screaming human to chuck him overboard. There’s a loud splash in the canal and others rush to your side, fussing about and apologizing.   “Were you not watching them?!” Seokjin shouts with the true wrath of the devil.   “We are so sorry, we sincerely apologize for any inconvenience.”   “I’ve never seen such an unprofessional group in my entire existence!” he barks back at them.   You watch him and sigh.   Seokjin is baffled beyond belief, berating the workers for not being careful enough, for not securing the pen. He yells at them to clean up the mess, making an absolute ruckus. When his anger simmers down, he turns around, about to ask if you’re alright.   But unfortunately you’re gone. You’ve escaped, vanished out of thin air.   //   Angry?   You used to be angry a lot but then the futile emotion became crushed by the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. After a millennium, you’re too stressed and tired to be angry. Being angry took too much energy.   You retire to your room early, just before dinner, and while you’re wondering if you should rest, your eyes catch the open letter on the vanity. You contemplate for a while before you finally decide to sit down. You grab the quill and dip the tip into the pot of ink. Never has it been easier to write a letter. A letter of hatred towards the devil, Kim Seokjin.   It’s been known that the lazy devil makes your life harder than need be. He draws attention in ways you don’t want it to be drawn. He’s never there when you need him and there when you don’t.   He’s a lazy bastard who never gets work done. Who always pours endless tasks on your shoulders for you to bear. Who never shows up to work. Who never appreciates anything you have to do. He’s sick and sadistic, ego bigger than his own head.   Seokjin is a pathetic leader.   It feels good to write it out, to put your thoughts onto paper. The ink stains the parchment quickly, curves and loops of your letters smooth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you finish and lick the envelope closed, wrapping it up.   He’ll never see it, but it was pleasant to put your anger on tangible material. It’s liberating. And for a brief period, you feel less stressed.   You toss the hate letter aside for pickup.

The worker hums to himself, sack in hand that’s heavy and filled with letters ready to be tossed and burned. He’s had a long day of working and this was his last job before he can rest. But once he exits your room, he’s suddenly stopped in the hallway.   “Mr. Kim.” He recognizes him like everyone else. Once they heard the devil was arriving, they made sure to iron their dark blue uniforms and ensure things were in tip-top shape.   The devil beckons him over once with his hand. “I’d like to see Miss Y/N’s letter.”   “I...I’m sorry, I can’t do that. That’s against policy. We assured all guests that they are entitled to their own privacy and, uh, that would be going against the rules.”   “Rules?” His gaze darkens, becoming cold. Seokjin reminds him, “I’m the devil.”

When you open the door to your room, shivers crawl up your skin, traveling down your spine. You flicker on the light to discover someone seated in the armchair in the corner of the room. Their broad backside faces you.   “I wish you would know how much you stress me out.” He pauses and exhales thoughtfully. “When you’re around me, you stress me out. When you’re not around, you stress me out. I think you truly make hell hell, so congratulations for at least doing one job correctly.”   Mortified is an understatement.   You’re frozen in your spot. The door closes behind you from the momentum. You’re trapped in a room with him, and the devil turns his head to greet you with a smile. Your letter is open in his hand. “I’m surprised, Y/N. I knew you didn’t like me, but I didn’t know you hated me so much.”   He puts it down, slowly rises to his feet and closes the distance between your physical bodies within three strides. “But if you felt so strongly about me, you should’ve said something.”   Seokjin corners you in your small room until your back is pressed against the surface of the door.    “If I felt strongly or not, why should I tell you?” you ask, voice unintentionally shaking.   Even in such a moment, you’re still playing devil’s advocate. It makes him smirk. “Because I’d like to know.”   He’s close to you, aura heavy and imposing. Seokjin doesn’t touch you but you can feel him.   And strangely enough, he doesn’t punish you in the way you think he would for thinking such ill thoughts of him.   “You still owe me that kiss. You can kiss me hard if you want — to try to relent your anger and what was it again? Oh yeah, tell me what a pathetic leader I am.”   Your eyes meet his — yours stern, but his softened. Despite Seokjin’s greased words, he steps back and you move out of the way. He reaches for the door knob.   “You weren’t supposed to read it,” you mutter before he can leave. “Are you…”   “Angry?” There’s a ghost of a tender smile on his features. He doesn’t look at you. He simply sighs. “No, I’m not.”   The male opens the door, but lingers. He decides to grace you with the profile of his beautiful visage. “Earlier. When you stabbed. Are you okay?”   “I, uh, I’m fine.”   “Good.”   //   The following day is dedicated to gluttony. All over the cruise ship are demons feasting, eating, drinking, consumption galore. The banquet hall is vast with a table stretching across the space — every inch of the surface covered in luxurious dishes. The floor is also soaked with wine, the liquid that haphazardly splashed over the rim of demons’ glasses.   It’s hard to resist eating and drinking copious amounts when the gravity quite literally pulls you in. And Seokjin finds you there, leaning on the wall, hand glued to your glass, intoxicated enough not to jump when you see him.   “I never took you for a drinker.” He wears an amused smile as he takes your sloppy form in.   “On the contrary.” You wave a finger in the air. “Why didn't you take me as a drinker?”   “That doesn't make any sense.”   You eye him with a slight pout. “Why aren't you drinking?”   Seokjin shrugs and looks around. “These childish spells don't affect me.”   “Psh. Don't act like you're better 'cause you're the devil.”   “But I am better because I'm the devil.” He smirks. “Stronger. Resistant. Handsomer.”   “Handsomer's not a word. ‘t's more handsome.”   “You're fun at parties.”   “Hey, it's my job.” You sigh, trying to reason with him. “My job that you gave me. I just gotta play the devil's advocate.”   Seokjin smiles, a puff of air leaving his nose. He leans on the wall beside you, looking out and you take the chance to blatantly stare at him, openly ogling. You muse that he almost looks...normal like this. Well, as normal as demons can get. He’s not so imposing.   “Are you sad?”   “What?”   “I wanted to ask if you were sad, not mad. Over my letter.”   “Pft. Sad? I don't get sad. I'm the devil,” he declares as if you need to be reminded.   “Doesn’t mean you can’t be sad,” you huff, “Then you're not hurt?”   “Not really.” The devil lolls his head to the side, peeking at you when you keep staring at him. “I'm already hated by many in every realm. I thrive off the hatred.”   His eyes glimmer with mischief and he leans down to connect his eyes with you at the same level. His breath is on your skin, so close that you can see his lashes one by one. But you don’t move away or lean back as you usually would. Your interest is piqued.   The corners of Seokjin’s plump lips pull.   In the chaos of the masses eating and devouring food like monsters, there’s a private, intimate moment tucked away in the corner of the banquet hall where it’s just you and him. “It's not like I don't deserve it anyways. I'm not a 'good' entity. Since when did the devil help anyone?”   “Since when did the devil need to help anyone?” you ask on impulse. It’s become your pure instincts to doubt everything told to you. “Since when did anyone need help?”   “You're right.” Seokjin grins wolfishly. “But the alternative of hatred is love anyways, and that's sickening.”   There’s a second of silence.   And then you burst out laughing.   Seokjin whips his head over, watching the sound leaving your lips.    “I should bring you love then, just to make you suffer then,” your words slur as you poke his shoulder. “But knowing you, you'd probably enjoy suffering too because you're that sick and twisted.”   The corners of his mouth tugs into yet another smile as a light scoff leaves his throat. The devil can’t love, but what he feels towards you is what he thinks is pretty damn close to it.   //   The day that follows if focused on envy.   The workers greet you with another package of activities to do and a promise that they can get you one thing you’ve always wanted, if it’s within their abilities. But you don’t know what to tell them.   You end up loitering around for most of the day, checking facilities and eating, walking around until night falls where you head down to the luxurious bar, drawn in by the blue lights and entrancing music.    Halfway through nursing a drink at the counter, someone slides up on the stool next to you. It’s not the person you were anticipating unfortunately. Wait.   Unfortunately?   You wonder why you automatically thought it was unfortunate. You momentarily ponder why you were filled with a brief emotion of disappointment when it wasn’t the person you expected.   “Hi, I was just sitting across the bar, but I couldn’t help coming over and telling you that you look stunning in that dress.”   It’s a demon with doe eyes and a boyish smile. He makes you look down at yourself to inspect the rather simple number — compared to the layered robes you often have to show up in for the judgment process, this was just a floor length dress, black and sleek with one sleeve and the other side off the shoulder.   “Thanks.”   “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”   He puts out his hand and you shake it after a short pause. “L/N Y/N.”   “Sounds familiar,” he hums, red eyes piercing through yours. The demon plasters on a grin. “Do I know you from somewhere?”   “Probably not.”   “You’re right. I would’ve remembered someone so beautiful.” The grease reminds you of that someone you thought would have appeared by now, but the stranger isn’t as smooth when he says the one-liners. It doesn’t sound as pleasant to the ears. “Can I buy you a drink, Y/N?”   “Um…”   “Sorry, I’m already buying her one.”   Another voice pipes up — the person you were unknowingly waiting for finally manifested himself.    Kim Seokjin appears with his hair pushed back, forehead on full display, dressed in another one of his dress shirts with sleeves rolled up and casual trousers deliciously tight around the thighs. His pink, plump lips quirk into a smile as he looks at you. Meanwhile, Jungkook visibly pales.   “Oh. Sorry, I, I didn’t know she was, uh, um…” The stranger recognizes you now. With you beside the devil, he recalls where he’s seen you before.   You’re the devil’s advocate. “Yeah, why don’t you get lost?” Seokjin moves his head to the side and Jungkook slides off the stool so quickly, he almost loses footing and falls flat on his face. Luckily, he catches himself and you watch him sprint away practically with his tail caught between his legs.   What a shame. “He was nice.”   “I bet he was,” he mutters, glaring at the fleeting demon’s backside with a force that could light the entire place aflame.   “Kind of cute too.” You turn your head to look back at Seokjin. You’re not sure why it’s so fun to aggravate him at the moment. Maybe you realized it’s a way to get under his skin. “You didn’t have to scare him off.”   “Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten scared so easily,” he refutes and it’s a rather good point. Jin orders a drink, getting served immediately. He sips on it and peeks at you through the rim of his glass. “Were you going to reject him or were you planning on getting his room key?”   “Does it matter?” Your elbow is to the counter, chin casually rested in your palm. You’re discreetly challenging him and it’s a dangerous game, but one you feel like playing tonight. “Shouldn’t I be enjoying myself to the fullest extent, Seokjin?”   His brow quirks at how you call him by his name directly. “I don’t like people associated with me playing with sub-par trash. It makes me look bad.”   “Or it makes you look inclusive.”   The devil scoffs. “You always have a way to argue, don’t you?”   “It’s my job.”   He hums a low note and redirects his gaze at you. “Want to go outside for a breather?”   “I don’t think hell’s air is very fresh, but sure.”   The two of you try to exit the noisy bar. You struggle to weave through the crowd of sweaty demons dancing and grinding on one another. But then Seokjin grasps your shoulder tenderly and shifts you to walk behind him. You realize that the mass of demons splits when he walks through. Even in their inebriated state, they know to cower down and move out the way.   Once it’s clear, you open the west-side door and enter a quiet area absent from any other entity. It’s easier to breathe out here, silent, and you lean against the ship’s railing to watch how the canal’s water glows a deep crimson hue. The ship moves through it, and you listen to the noise of the water sloshing against the side of the ship.   When your head tilts up, you stare at the mahogany sky nearing black.   “I heard the human realm was really beautiful. Apparently they have something called stars and it appears at night. They’re tiny but they twinkle. Have you heard of them?”   He doesn’t respond, but he lifts his hand and waves his palm up. Suddenly, the sky is blanketed in complete black. The shade bleeds throughout, sweeping across the horizon, and you furrow your brows unable to understand what he’s doing. But as you stare, tiny sparkles become apparent.   “They’re only an illusion, but it’s the best I can do,” he breathes out.   Your eyes are wide and you glance at him. “I….I love it….”   “Good.”   Seokjin grins when a smile expands across your face. The stars gleam like jewels spilled across the canvas — what you’ve heard and read about for so long finally in front of you. They sparkle from the distance, glittering, and the longer you stare, more appear. The entire horizon soon becomes filled with them, and you’re breathless.   It’s a shame only you and Seokjin can view them.   “Are you seeing this?” You hold your hand out, trying to gesture. The more you stare, the more it sinks in just how spectacular this feat is. You’ve only ever seen the sky black, red, and maybe a shade of azure when you reach the in-between of the gates of Heaven and Hell. You’re seeing stars for the first time and it’s more amazing than you thought was possible. “Holy hell!”   “Not sure how hell could be holy,” Seokjin laughs and stares at you with a smile. “Do you really like it this much? You’re so simple. I could’ve done this ages ago.”   “I didn’t know…..”   “You could’ve asked.”   “Yeah, but you never answer me anyways when I call,” you murmur without thinking twice, unaware of how his gaze on you softens. Your hands against the railing tighten and you exhale. But eventually, you focus again when it occurs to you such a long stretch of silence has passed in comfortable silence. “What did you request today? Did they fulfill any of your wishes?”   Seokjin leans against the railing and tilts his head to stare at you. “I asked for something they can’t give me.” You meet his intense eyes, wondering what he means. The corner of his plump lips pulls and he blinks, easing. “What did you ask for?”   “It’s also something they can’t give to me.”   “What is it?”   “Your job.”   The devil chuckles, head lolling up to look at you. “Why would you want that? Don’t you hate working for me?”   “Exactly. I hate working for you. I’d rather take over. I would restructure the entire system, I’d delegate more duties, lessen my own workload, I’d be able to prepare better instead of working so last minute.”   “Sounds like you have a whole plan.”   “I may or may not have spent a lot of time thinking about it,” you hum in slight pride.   Seokjin grins and shakes his head. “Too bad the position at the gates is a traditional, symbolic role. The only way you’d be able to acquire it officially through proper tradition is becoming the devil’s lady.”   You know it too. Thought about it after a millennium and damned the rules that restricted your abilities so many times. The only way to claim his position completely was to wed to him and be named the devil’s lady. But it’s an absurd idea, one you never even thought twice about. Although, for some reason, the way the devil says it isn’t like he’s stating a plain, boring fact.   It’s almost as if he’s….considering it.   Seokjin leans in close. His eyes are not unlike the stars, twinkling with mischief. “Don’t tempt me.”   //   The next day that comes is your absolute favourite.   It’s what you’ve been prepared for.   When the workers knock on your door with the usual room service and daily package, you’re ecstatically tearing papers apart and reading all the descriptions, ready to take full advantage of all the activities included. After all, it’s a day of sloth — a day of guaranteed relaxation.   You start off by laying in bed the entire morning, lazing around until you head to the spa. There you get a head to toe scrub, hair and nails done, and you nap in the steam room. The masseuse is also surprised at the number of knots in your muscles and three demons end up working on you, slapping and massaging your tense muscles.   Once you’re finished, you feel like you’re floating on air. For the first time in a thousand years, you’re stress-free. Nothing could ruin your mood. Not even Kim Seokjin.   You head up to the deck for another nap, claiming a lounge chair in the corner, and being as quiet as possible to not disturb other demons sleeping away. But before you can drift off, the warm light on your skin ceases. You feel a shadow overtop of you. And you slide your sunglasses down the slope of your nose.   The devil looms over your body with a smirk.    “Looks like someone’s been enjoying themselves.”   You sit up and instantly pull him down to sit beside you. Jin’s brows are lifted in surprise from the affectionate invitation. You grin at him. “Have you been down to the spa yet?”   “No.”   “Hell, you need to go down there right now then. It’s. Amazing. Jin.” From your sheer excitement, he grins and you giggle. Giggle. Now that’s a sound he hasn’t heard from you before. Seokjin can’t help but wonder what other sounds you can make. “You need to go to try it and get the Swedish massage. Can’t say the Shiatsu massage is as good. But try out the deep tissue one. That was good too.”   “How many massages did you have today?”   “I tried all of them,” you sing-song and sit back in your lounge chair, humming to yourself. You inspect your clean nails, the french tips done, holding your hand out in front of you.   Seokjin smiles as he looks at you. You’re so much happier and relaxed. You in your little swimsuit and your translucent, silky cover up.   “What else did you do?”   “Got my hair washed. Got my nails done. Got two kinds of facials. You should just check it out for yourself, seriously, it would be a waste if you didn’t.” Suddenly, your eyes light up over the rim of your dark sunglasses. “Should we go together?”   His plump lip pulls. “You want to go to the spa...with me?”   He’s the entity you hate the most. To be given such an invitation from you is no less shocking. But you don’t seem to care. You even laugh and swat at his arm playfully. “We can go together after I take my nap. It’s all day and I really want to get the hot stone massage again.”   “Okay.” He laughs. The devil’s not a very spa-kind of man, but he’ll go with you.   “We can head down in an hour.” You lay back again, eyes fluttering for a shut-eye, but you keep them open to look at him for a second longer. “Do you want to sleep with me?”   “Careful how you ask that question.” He smirks slyly, making you scoff.   “You know what I mean.”   Seokjin hums a low note, considering something else. “Do you want to watch a show tonight? They’re putting on something in the theater.”   “Really? Sure!” You joyfully agree, so easily at it too, cheeks inflated with your smile. He snorts at how fast you answered. It’s such a difference from your tense self. Not to mention, you’re unbothered with him sitting there at the end of your lounge chair as you drift off and he observes how you’re snoring a minute later.   You don’t realize that an idle mind is the devil’s workshop, and he’s ready to have some fun with you.   //   There’s a permanent skip in your step.    You’ve learnt to navigate the entire area of the spa and you don’t notice how everyone is intimidated with Seokjin here. Even when he’s comedically dressed in a white robe, white towels wrapped up on his head, and feet decked out with white slippers — white from top to bottom as if he’s wearing the skin of an angel. Each demon moves out of the way when they realize the devil is here. But he pays no mind to them, following after you. You, who looks like a true angel with how you smile and how radiant you shine in pure white…..   Although the exterior is a bit ruined when you bark at the masseuses to dig into your muscles harder.   You’re even more giddy after you take your third nap in the steam room and he enjoys dinner with you. It’s hard not to when you’re such great company, and you don’t seem to bat a lash when you glue yourself by his side, joining him to watch the evening show.    It’s a game show of some sort, couples on honeymoons together and answering trivia questions about one another. Seokjin sits beside you, a bit bored as he rests his chin in his hand, elbow on the arm rest. His mind wanders before he finds himself glancing over at you.   You seem to be enjoying yourself and that’s enough for him to sit through it.   He wonders what it takes to make you happy like this all the time.   But eventually his train of thought is interrupted when he catches your eye, when he notices you peeking at him at the corner of your vision, trying to glance at him. His lip tugs into another smirk.   Seokjin leans in close. “Y/N.”   He whispers your name into your ear, hot breath skimming on your skin, and he watches the way goosebumps raise over the back of your arms. He pauses for added suspense.   And then he exhales. “You can kiss me if you want. I wouldn’t stop you.”   An immediate frown forms, your lips lopsided, your entire body stiff again. That’s all that’s needed to make you tense again — it’s so easy that it’s amusing. He laughs quietly at your glare.   One of these days, he knows you’ll give into his outlandish idea. Seokjin just can’t help planting the seed there.   //   Right after your favourite day is your least favourite. Lust.    You’re shaken awake in the morning by a sudden bang. It comes from the room next over despite the walls supposedly being soundproof. You would think someone was being tortured or punching the wall over and over again, but what follows the noises that are loud enough to leak through are moans and whines of ‘harder’.   You are sorely not impressed.   “There’s an orgy party tonight,” Seokjin tells you, crowding beside you at the breakfast buffet. It’s hard to ignore the smacking sound of kissing occurring behind the food bar and it makes the food unappetizing.   “I heard.”   “Are you coming?”   “I don’t know.”   “You should.”   “Why?” you question his insistence.   “I would explain to you what I’ve heard about it, but it would be a...mouthful.” Seokjin fully intends the pun, irises sparkling with mischief.    You feign a glare at him, and he follows you to a table, sitting across from you. The devil digs into his sweet stack of waffles, and tears his teeth into a medium rare steak.   “You’re gross.”   “It’s not gross if you feel the same way.”   “Who said I do?”   “Who says you don’t?” he challenges, bringing your lips into a smirk.   The two of you banter back and forth, and you don’t realize that you’re having breakfast with him willingly. That you’re tucked into the corner of the restaurant serving leftovers from the feast from the day of gluttony. You’ve both fallen into a natural course, fallen in line with one another unconsciously. It’s too easy to be in each other’s presence.   But eventually you part ways, and it’s difficult to weave your way out of the bodies pressed together. Guests are practically dry humping one another and the workers are actively encouraging the lust. You guess this is what they mean by indulging in the sins.   You retire to your room early to escape the scandalous sights.   But your sanctuary is interrupted with a knock on the door.   “Good afternoon, Miss Y/N.” The worker greets you, holding onto a clipboard like a door to door salesman.   “Is there something I can help you with?”   “We were just wondering if you were going to attend tonight’s event. We’d like to know about how many people are coming so we can accommodate them properly.”   “Oh.”   "If you are to attend, we have complementary masks to wear." The worker smiles, cheeks rosy.   A masquerade orgy isn't appealing to you. But your thoughts stray to a certain someone who asked you if you were coming this very morning. Someone with dark hair and dark eyes staring into yours. Someone whose plump lips always pulls into that sly smirk and makes you feel a certain kind of way.   "Sure."   Why not. You came here for new experiences after all.    "Fantastic!" The worker exclaims and gestures down the hall. You hear wheels rolling against the carpet and a girl appears with a cart showing a selection of masks. "Feel free to choose whatever is appealing. We also have a catalogue you can order from for free if none of these are to your satisfaction."   You look over them, from the intricate designs in gold and red, to those decorated with jewels and ribbons, and ones delicately painted. But one in particular catches your attention.   "This one’s fine."   You pick the black lace mask, one that's simple but sufficient.   The night arrives sooner than expected. The sky turns a shade of deep mahogany without a moon or sparkle in sight, clouding the horizon over in uncertainty, while the canal glows a hue of rose.   You enter the ballroom on the fourth floor in a black floor length dress, a slit on your left side to top of your thigh. Others seemed to be dressed even more luxuriously, while some of them are already nude and their clothing littered on the ground.   The room is a circular space, ceiling high with paintings of angels on it — ironically to overlook the sinning. The columns spiral high, decorated with gold and made from shiny porcelain like the floor tiles. Slow music plays in the background, accompanying the soft smacking noise of mouths colliding. There are also chaise lounge chairs off to the side, curtains drawn to cover the private areas. But the shadows and silhouettes show they’re doing something less than decent.   There are three or four people participating behind the curtains, those participating, those watching, those that like to be watched. You even catch moans and whimpers as you pass by.   By oddly enough, instead of disgusted, you feel entranced.   Suddenly someone’s warm arm slinks across your abdomen, rough hands that find purchase on your waist. You gasp as your ass is shoved against their hardening groin. Their other hand palms the meat of your ass. And you find yourself giving in, leaning closer to the body heat that feels like cozy flames.    You turn around, meeting brown, doe eyes behind a white mask. You swallow your mouthful of saliva. Their lips look so soft, irresistible. You surrender without an ounce of self-control, this time to the temptation. The man leans in as well—   But then you’re suddenly yanked away by another.   The spell breaks.    “Buzz of. This is mine.” It’s a familiar voice, a sonorous tone but rumbling timbre. The doe-eyed man nods wordlessly and stumbles back into the crowd.   “Jin?”   Where he’s encircled your wrist, you can feel how his skin is warmer than the stranger’s, like a fire is burning underneath his flesh. Behind the black mask, with tiny sparkles that remind you of the stars, are eyes you recognize — dark pools like chocolate, full of indulgence.    Instantly, he lets you go.   “I’m sorry…”   You’re bewitched by him. And you cave into the magnetizing pull. You latch onto him before he can leave. “You shouldn’t have any reason to be sorry.”   The devil meets your gaze.    Everything about him is to lure and entice you, meant for you to indulge in. From the pinkness and plumpness of his lips, to his eyes that are shaped soft and sheepish. His sculpted face, his scent, the sound of his voice...   The devil would never come to such an event to get himself dirty with lowly demons. His hubris is much too high to be touched by strangers. He’s here for a specific purpose — and you think you know what it might be, or rather, for who.   “There’s a reason you’re here, right?”   Seokjin knows you well too, knows that you don’t like to be touched by strangers. His mouth pulls into a smile. “Do you have the same reason as I do?”   You grasp onto the collar of his fitted suit, lust overwhelming you. He stares at your mouth through half-lidded eyes, his own parted.    “I...don’t want this to affect my job,” you murmur, breath already on his.   “It’s going to affect it either way. You’ve stopped being just my advocate long ago.” His large hands hold your hips. “Why do you think I always skip out on my duties? I have to make sure not to come and replace you. I need a reason to keep you around.”   “You bastard.”   The puzzles you had finally click into place. The dots connect. It makes sense, more than it ever has.   “I know.”   “You’re a selfish prick. But one I still owe a kiss to.”   Finally after a millennium, you relinquish your dignity and fully indulge in Kim Seokjin.   You dance with the devil, mouth pushing against his. Immediately, he deepens it, slipping his hot tongue in to claim you as his. Seokjin makes your lips swell as he kisses you hungrily. Sinfully.   He savours your muffled groan as you feel yourself wrapping in the heat that emanates off his body, drowning in his scent. The devil’s lips are of velvet, addicting, and you can’t stop. You’re too frantic to notice that his eyes are still half-lidded, drinking in your pleasured expression.   But in the middle of the kiss, you sense someone else’s presence. Your eyes peel back to see a female stroking her hands over his broad shoulders. You break apart with a forceful smack, thin string of saliva breaking.    “Fuck off,” you spit at her.   The female demon doesn’t hear you. Her hands slowly trail downwards to the thick lump forming in his tight trousers. But Seokjin catches her wandering palms before she can actually touch him. He throws her arms off him. “You heard her. You’re not invited.”   She openly scoffs, and rolls her eyes before walking away.   You won’t let third parties in. You won’t let anyone else touch him. You’re too selfish and greedy to do so.   “Let’s get out of here.”   Seokjin locks his hands in yours, and you’re finally able to revel in how he looks in his fitted suit, how broad his shoulders are, the thickness of his thighs.    Even when you leave the ballroom, the lustful atmosphere never lessens. Instead, the suspense builds. The tension becomes overwhelming. It’s awkward to stand in the elevator and listen to the boring jazz, suffocating in the small space. The heat is tangible.   You end up tackling Seokjin against the wall. You kiss away his laugh by shoving your tongue down his throat. It’s obscene but you don’t care much for your pride at the moment.   “I won’t be seen fornicating in the elevator,” the devil scolds in a low tone, peeling you away after another ravenous make out session, his grip having been tight on your thigh. “Come on.”   Seokjin leads you to his floor, and the door automatically opens when he steps in front of it. The lust is instantly exchanged for amazement.   His suite room is breathtaking, private windows allowing a wide view of the red canal and the horizon. It’s an open space with many rooms, a luxurious bathroom and enormous bed. Like his own personal home.   “This….this….h-how much does this even cost?!”   “Does it matter?” Seokjin loosens his tie. He chuckles watching you run around, checking all the rooms and inspecting the furniture. “I would’ve invited you sooner, but I didn’t want to get slapped.”   You scoff in the other room, and he follows after you. “You know I can’t slap you.”    “Yeah, but you always look like you want to.”   “Just cause I want to, doesn’t mean I can or will do it.”   “Alright, enough of this chit chat.”   Seokjin picks you up from where you’re marveling at his closet. He heaves you up and over his shoulder, carrying you across his suite and he lightly tosses you onto his soft mattress. The devil corners you. He grabs your ankle when you playfully try to escape and he climbs on top of you, straddling your waist to trap you in place.   “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispers as he relishes the way you’re pinned beneath him.   You cock your head to the side. “Really? I think if you were waiting for that long, you would’ve done something about a century ago.”   Seokjin sighs at how you’re trying to pick an argument with him even in such a situation. “Love, if you don’t stop trying to pick fights with me, I’m going to gag you with your own underwear.”   You would nod and be obedient. But it’s intrinsic for you to doubt.    Instinctively, the words spill out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Why are you assuming I have underwear on?”   A muscle in his cheek twitches. Seokjin flips you over, and instantaneously delivers a slap to the meat of your ass. You moan, arching into him, but you quickly turn your head with a frown.   “What was that for?!”   “You know what it’s for,” Jin barks. “It’s going to be a long night if you don’t listen to me, Y/N.”   The devil follows through with his word. It indeed becomes a long, long night.   It’s too delicious to see his irritation. How his ears can turn into a shade of scarlet that matches the colour rising from his neck to his forehead. But you bend to his will after a while, giving into his command.    It’s the most sinning you’ve done. The most indulgent you’ve ever been. Seokjin’s sweat drips on top of you before it’s your sweat on him when you get on top. He’s merciless, leaving bruises along your thighs from his tight grip and where he kept your legs spread. He leaves blue, purple, red marks along the column of your neck. You sink down on his cock enough times that your cunt stretches out to match his girth and length into a perfect, snug fit. And you get to know the flavour of each other’s spit and cum until it’s all you can taste.   You’re glad no one shares Seokjin’s walls or else they’d hear the way your voice grows hoarse over the course of the night. They’d hear the creak of the bed, the slamming of the headboard. Anyone on the same floor would hear your name groaned through those beautiful lips licking into you.   You’re sure if there was another level to hell or damnation — you and Seokjin will be arriving there in each other’s arms.   //   The last day of the cruise finally arrives and you’re devastated.   Tomorrow, you’ll return to work and continue the cycle of late nights preparing documents and affidavits and judging human souls in line at purgatory only for them to scream obscenities at you no matter what gate they end up entering.   Your train of thought is interrupted by a knock on the door.   “G-Good morning, Miss. Y/N!” The male worker jumps, surprised to discover you answering the door. “I didn’t think you’d be in your room.”   “Where else would I be?” you deadpan.   The female demon worker smiles and steps forward. “We have room service for you!”   You widen the door and they wheel the cart in. “We just wanted to ask about your stay here and if there were any concerns whatsoever.”   “Oh no.” You bat your hand. “It was absolutely lovely. Thank you for the past seven days. It couldn’t have gone better.”   “That’s great to hear.” They grin and gesture to the pamphlet placed with your meal.   “We’d also like to mention that there’s a honeymoon package and an express cruise that travels to all three realms, hell, heaven, and human. It’s just a promotion. I thought I’d mention it.”   You laugh, nodding. “Okay, thank you.”   “There’s one event left. A farewell party for tonight for all guests on this trip.”    You receive the invitation. Today’s a day of pride and in its celebration, the cruise has a farewell ceremony where they read each guests’ accomplishments. It’s a sweet gesture, perfect to top off the trip.   But you can’t fully look forward to it when you’re plagued by your thoughts. You still haven’t decided if last night was a mistake, if it was just the lust in the air.    Seokjin was insatiable, that much was clear, and you swear you feel permanently hot in your face. The in between of your legs still ache whenever you move. It’s impossible to try to forget or disregard what occurred. And when you’re unable to cover up his marks all over your neck, you find yourself deciding to wear it with pride.   You wonder how he feels about last night too. If the devil simply likes to spoil his advocates.   But your questions are answered when you see him again at the party.   “Evening.”   “Good evening.”   You raise your wine glasses up at one another in mutual acknowledgment before turning to watch the room. The pair of you are tucked in the corner again as if you were the hosts and everyone else were guests in your domain.   The silence broken by him. “It was...regrettable that you ran out so soon this morning.”   You agree. “It was regrettable, but it’s the right thing to do.”   “You think with your head too much sometimes,” Seokjin muses.   “Jeon Jungkook,” the worker on stage announces into the staticy mic. “He has tricked twenty four humans into giving their soul to him.” There’s a collective ‘ooh’ from other workers and a loud applause. “He works in marketing and coworkers call him proactive!”   They allow every guest to indulge in their own pride and you don’t expect much as you watch, but then your name is called. “The devil’s advocate, L/N Y/N.”   “Persuasive and diligent. In her existence thus far, she’s captured two hundred forty three souls before working for the devil where she’s passed judgment for eighty six hundred thousand sixty six human souls,” they continue to read your long list of accomplishments and it’s seemingly never ending. The worker runs out of breath and has to take a drink of water to keep going.   The devil is in the details after all.   But you didn’t realize you had done so much.   “Impressive.” Seokjin nudges you with a quirked brow and an amused smile.   Suddenly, you’re called on again. “L/N Y/N, will you please come onto the stage to receive a special award.”   “What?”   “Don’t just stand there, idiot.” Seokjin mischievously bumps you forward and your steps stagger. With half a mind, you pass the tables and demons watching you, up the stairs to the modest stage. The spotlight is absolutely blinding.   The worker shakes your hand and gives you a golden frame. Inside is a certificate of accomplishment. It’s stamped with the crest of hell, the official insignia of honour.    “It was signed by the devil, himself,” the worker tells you privately. “He insisted that it would be given to you. Congratulations, Miss Y/N.”   There’s a roar of applause. Your eyes stray off the side to see him, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, a proud smile placed on his features. Something blooms inside your chest.   Finally, you’ve received recognition for what you’ve done, for all your hard work.   You step off stage, cutting through the crowd to get to him. But then you’re stopped by yet another worker. “Miss. Y/N, thank you for being a part of Sins Cruise Line. We’d like to gift you this photo album compiling your best moments of this trip.”   “Oh, t-thank you.”   You move off and out of the way to open the leather album. What you find are photographs you didn’t know the workers took. There’s a picture of you stepping on this ship for the first time and looking out at the horizon with your drink in hand and the wind blowing through your hair. There’s another with you sitting across the poker table and Seokjin on the other side, the dim lights shining on your heads and illuminating your faces.   You continue to flip through, and you discover countless pictures of you and Seokjin together.   Him shooting at a human with you standing beside him. Laughing with Seokjin while you’re both in the corner of the feasting room. Out on the lounge chairs together. At the spa. Watching a show in the theater room. Looking into each other’s eyes in the ballroom before your shared kiss.   They’re beautiful photographs — precious moments captured in time. You didn’t realize you looked at him in such a way, or that he looked at you so tenderly.   You find Seokjin in the crowd again, as you’re grasping the album and the certificate to your chest.   “Congratulations, Miss. Devil’s Advocate.”   “I can’t believe you did all this.” You’re still breathless, unable to comprehend why he would go to such lengths for you.   “You deserve it.” Seokjin matches your softened smile. “Are you sad about leaving?”   “Can’t say I’m excited to go,” you admit. “But I have to go back. There’s probably a lot that’s piled up. Taehyung doesn’t know how to work on cases properly.”   “Well, take it easy,” the devil says with a grin and stares at you for a moment. It’s silent, the two of you gazing at one another, but then he catches himself and inhales a breath. “Actually, I’m planning on restructuring some things. I want to delegate more duties and lessen workloads so others can better prepare instead of working so last minute.”   His eyes twinkle with mischief. He literally took the words right out of your mouth, quoting you exactly. “I’m going to need some advice and personal help for the next while.”   “Personal help?” Your brows raise with a giggle.   “Personal help.” Seokjin nods. “Hey, you’re free right now, right? Do you want to talk it over during dinner?”   Laughter bubbles out of you and your gaze becomes tender. “I’d love to.”

It was undoubtedly hard to walk off that cruise ship.   A part of you wishes it could last forever. But alas, all good things must come to an eventual end.   Yoongi is seated at his desk, feet propped up on the surface of said desk. He’s casually leaning back on his chair, elbow propped up on the armrest, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair. He’s humming to himself, but then he sees the demon guard move aside, and his brows raise.   He’s pleasantly surprised. “You’re early.”   “Only a little.” You smile at the angel.   “Welcome back.” He takes his feet off his desk and deadpans, “I missed you. Too many people have been getting through Heaven lately, it’s been disastrous.”   “I’m sure Taehyung wasn’t that bad,” you murmur in the demon’s defense, but it’s weak and half-hearted. You both know he’s pretty terrible — Taehyung’s impatience and lack of meticulousness isn’t exactly great for this job.   “What was worse was that he was so annoying. I’d never thought I’d say it, but I’d much prefer you. Did you enjoy your vacation?” he asks. “I heard you went on that cruise.”   You smile to yourself. “Yeah, it was good.”   “Did it live up to its name?”   You contemplate it for a moment before you find yourself nodding. “I have to say that it does.”   “Wow, just rub in your good time, bitch,” Yoongi mutters passively aggressively, glaring through the slits of his eyes. Then he relents and sighs. “I’m glad you finally took a break. You look better. Healthier.”   “Thanks. Actually, it’s really thanks to—”   “You forgot this file, Y/N.”   A voice pipes up and the guards move aside. A man appears with his cape billowing behind him, dark robes decorated with gold, official and intimidating. Yoongi’s eyeballs nearly fall out of his socket. The angel’s mouth draws open, his nostrils flared.   Seokjin is behind you and hands you the file before taking a seat beside you.    He pushes his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose, focusing downwards to the paperwork. “I have to sign where?”   “Here.”   He’s helping you, has been since you’ve gotten back.    Yoongi doesn’t try to hide his shock. You smile at the angel with a look that equally shares his pleasant surprise and shows how impressed you are.   “You two are close,” Yoongi says when he finds his power of speech again.   Seokjin lifts his chin, glances at the angel and then at you. The pair of you share a warm smile together. “I’d say we’re a bit more than close at this point.”   You already know Seokjin’s intentions — you’re his advocate after all.

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Summer Nights ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader (f)

Summary: You and Keanu go skinny dipping. Need I say more?

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Language, skinny dipping, fingering, pool sex 

A/N: Inspired by my fellow thirsty hoe @keanusreefs​. This one’s for you :)))

The heatwave crippled the city of Los Angeles with unrestrained brutality. Temperatures soared over 90 degrees each day, often reaching a hundred by noon. The smoldering streets would send up disorienting waves of heat. The trees and the grass stood unnaturally still from the absence of winds. No one dared to move under the scorching rays of the hot sun.

Not even you.

For the past three days, the air conditioning unit has been your saving grace. It was only after sunset, and when the night took over did you start feeling a sense of relief, but even then, the sweltering heat still lingered on. If it weren’t for the cold air blasting inside your house, it would be nearly impossible for you to get a good night’s sleep.

But, alas, of all the days the AC could break, it chose to do so on the hottest days ever recorded in LA.

What great fucking timing it had.

“Babe, relax,” your partner Keanu tried to calm you down, already feeling the sweat dripping down the side of your head. “I called the repairman, and he’ll be here tomorrow afternoon to fix the unit.”

Groaning, you attempted to fan yourself with your hands, but the exertion of doing so only made it worse. “I’m seriously going to check-in at a hotel tonight. There’s no way I’m staying in this house without air conditioning, in the midst of a heatwave.”

Keanu could only laugh at your reaction, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Sweetheart, we can leave the windows open in our room. We have an electric fan that we can use and have it pointed at us in bed.”

“Oh, nope. You are not sleeping in the same bed as me,” you pointed out before heading to the kitchen, Keanu trailing closely behind.

“And why not?”

“Honey, I love you, but you’re a cuddler, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep with a warm body beside me.” You opened up the freezer, allowing the chilly air to escape as you stood in front of it, relishing the momentary relief it gave.

Keanu glanced at you, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. Rolling your eyes, you watched as he rounded the kitchen island, coming to stand next to you. You could see the smirk playing on his lips as his hand grasped your wrist, pulling your body towards him and away from the gentle cold breeze.

“What are you doing?” You asked him as he dragged you to the sliding door leading out to the deck.

“You need to cool down,” Keanu simply answered, stepping over the threshold once he slid the door open, and you were both greeted by the warmth of the summer air.

Arching a brow at him, he guided you down the steps cautiously before ambling towards the sparkling swimming pool in the backyard. The water glistened underneath the moonlight, glowing a soft blue hue from the dim underwater lights illuminating from it. The pool was in absolute pristine condition, having been cleaned that very same morning.

Crossing your arms, you didn’t know why Keanu had brought you outside until one by one, he started to strip off his clothes right then and there.

“Are you alright? I think the heat’s getting into your head,” you quipped as he tossed his shirt somewhere on the grass before unbuckling his jeans, letting it fall to the ground.

“I’m doing just fine,” he returned, kicking his pants off to the side as he stood there wearing nothing but his boxers. “We should go for a swim. It’s a better way to cool down instead of complaining.”

“Funny,” you added dryly before noticing Keanu hooking his fingers in the waistband of his underwear and swiftly removing it from his body.

You felt the heat creeping up your face as your eyes widened at the sight of his bareness.

“You like what you see, baby?”

Keanu slowly turned his entire body around, fully displaying it off to you as your heart began to race. You couldn’t help ogle at your boyfriend, who knew pretty damn well how attractive he was to you. Everything about him was perfect, especially the delicious cock hanging between his legs, which was already beginning to harden right before your eyes.

He was so beautiful, and even after four years of dating, you still couldn’t believe that he was yours.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a loud splash made when Keanu jumped into the deep end of the pool, fully nude. He emerged back up to the surface seconds later, brushing his hair away from his face before floating leisurely on his back.

“Come in, babe! The water’s amazing,” he grinned, beckoning you to join him in the pool, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” you said, but as you turned away to head back into the house, you heard Keanu calling out your name. “What?”

“Where are you going?” He questioned, gracefully threading towards the ledge of the pool by your feet.

You glared at him incredulously. “Uh, to put on my swimsuit?”

“What for? Just take off your clothes and jump in.”

“No, I’m not going to do that,” you responded, shaking your head at Keanu.

“And why not?” He cocked his head to the side, the pale blue light shining in his eyes. God, he looked so enticing as he stared up at you, dark hair slicked back as droplets of water dripped down his beard.

You moved closer towards the edge, kneeling down on the concrete. “I’m not skinny dipping with you in the pool. Not when our neighbors could be watching.”

“Baby, don’t mind them,” Keanu assured you as his hands reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to peek at the skin underneath. “They shouldn’t be watching in the first place.”

You felt his calloused fingers lightly squeezing at your hip, and you breathed out a sigh. Even the slightest of touch from Keanu could make you want him so desperately. His lustful gaze silently pleaded with you not to be shy now, and it was working, which didn’t come as a complete shock.

You could never deny him, no matter how hard you tried.

“Fine, you win,” you giggled, getting back up on your feet and walking a few steps backward.

Slowly, you began undressing in front of Keanu as he leaned against the ledge, enjoying the little show you were putting on for him. Biting your bottom lip, you first removed your top and set it behind one of the plastic lounge chairs. Next, you shimmied your shorts down over your hips, taking them off as well. From afar, you could hear Keanu’s sharp intake of breath as one of his hands dipped back into the pool, undoubtedly to touch himself as you finally shed your bra and panties.

Once nude, you sauntered over to the opposite end of the pool, adding a saucy sway to your hips while Keanu stared unabashedly. You inhaled a deep breath before diving in, a rush of bubbles surrounding you as you reached the bottom of the pool. Moments later, you quickly swam back up, taking in a lungful of air when you broke through the surface.

“That...was...refreshing,” you beamed, surprised that water was actually cold, and you were feeling much better now than before.

Glancing back, you saw Keanu waiting for you by the shallow side. His expression was unmistakably hungry, and you could feel the desire gathering low in your belly. Swimming towards him, his arms immediately circled around your body when you got near enough, pulling you into him as your breasts pushed up against his firm chest.

You wrapped your hands behind his neck, your fingers tangling themselves in his thick hair as you drew him closer. Crushing your lips against Keanu’s, his tongue quickly found yours, teasing each other as your breaths grew heavier, and the need became stronger.

Keanu’s hand came up to firmly cup your soft mound as he lowered his head, his lips encasing themselves around your nipple before sucking hard. You let out a moan as his hands expertly explored every inch of your skin, briefly forgetting that the two of you were outside where others might hear or see you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered as you placed your hands on his chest, his skin almost burning in contrast to the cold waters gently crashing onto you. “It’s just us. Besides, we’ve never done it in the pool before.”

You caught the mischievous glint in his eye, causing you to smile up at him. “Well, we better change that then.”

Leaning in, you kissed him passionately once again as he pressed your back against the wall of the pool, feeling his hardened cock on your thigh. You were losing yourself in the kiss and didn’t notice Keanu’s hand disappearing below the water until you felt his thick fingers gliding smoothly between your folds.

“Fuck, baby,” you murmured breathlessly as Keanu’s forehead came to rest on yours. His warm breath softly fanned your face as he massaged your inner walls, gradually stretching out your cunt for him later on.

You clamped your eyes shut as his pace quickened, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, bringing you closer to orgasm. With his free hand, he lifted your left leg up for more leverage. The new angle allowed his digits to slide even further into your core, sinking past his knuckles as deep as they could go.

“Don’t stop, Ke,” you whimpered as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your nails clawing at the back of his shoulders as the water lapped at your bodies. You were no longer able to control the loud moans escaping your throat, letting them out freely into the open air. “I-I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

Keanu curled his fingers inside you, brushing up against your sensitive spot. Soon after, you clenched tightly around him, screaming out in pure bliss as you rode out wave after wave of intense pleasure.

Your chest heaved as Keanu gave you time to come down from your high. Eventually, your eyes fluttered open again, and the first thing you saw was the smug look flashing across his face.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

Your gaze drifted down to his hand, which was still under the water, giving his shaft a few tugs as he waited for a response. Smiling, you reached below and guided the tip of Keanu’s engorged cock to your pussy. 

The two of you moaned softly as he sheathed himself inside of you. You twined your legs around his waist as he pinned you against the wall. His arms supported your weight before he started thrusting into you with slow and deliberate strokes.

“Keanu—shit, baby. You’re fucking me so good,” you gasped once he picked up speed, water splashing out of the pool and smacking against the deck. “Not gonna last long.”

“M-Me, too,” he grunted into your ear, his rhythm now faltering as he approached his climax. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You couldn’t find your voice to respond back to him, too lost in your own pleasure to concentrate on more than one thing at a time, and currently, you were focused on your sweet, sweet release. 

You could feel your orgasm building up again, threatening to burst at any second. Tilting your head up, you captured Keanu’s mouth in a searing kiss, faintly tasting the nicotine from a cigarette he had smoked earlier.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, baby,” he husked after pulling away for a breath. “I want to see you come. I want to feel you squeeze my cock. Come on, let go for me.”

Your body quivered as Keanu pounded hard and fast into you, the water sloshing everywhere before finally you tensed up, crying out in ecstasy as you reached your peak. Your walls tightened around his girth when suddenly, he stiffened, and you felt his cock pulsing in your cunt, pumping a heavy load of his hot, viscous cum deep inside of you.

You held each other for a little while, basking in the afterglow as the water settled down around you. Shivering, you glanced up at Keanu, who had enveloped in a warm embrace. The wet ends of his hair slightly covered his face, and with your hand, you brushed it back so that your eyes could meet his.

“You’re getting cold now, are you?” Keanu chortled, and you were quick to nod at him. He smiled softly as he gingerly picked you up in his arms and carried you out of the pool.

Carefully, he set you down on the lounge chair before quickly running back inside the house to grab towels. You were using the shirt you had placed behind the chair to pat your face dry when Keanu returned to the backyard, a towel hanging around his hips as he offered you your own.

“So, was it as bad as you thought?” He wondered as you dried yourself off with the towel before wrapping it around your body.

“No, I guess it wasn’t,” you replied with a smile. “It’s not even that hot outside anymore.”

“See, you were just dramatic,” Keanu joked, and you glared at him sternly. “I’m kidding, okay. I think we can survive one night and half a day without air conditioning.”

“We’ll see, but we’re still not sleeping in the same bed.”

Keanu raised his brow. “Seriously?”

Chuckling, you shook your head as you stood up on your feet. “After what you did back there, I think it would be cruel of me to let you sleep on the couch.”

You sweetly kissed the corner of his mouth, and then released a contented sigh, taking Keanu’s hand into yours. “Shower with me?”

He squeezed your hand gently, his lips curving up into a smile before stepping to the side. “Of course. Lead the way.”

The long summer days brought unbearable heat, but at the end of those days, always came these tender summer nights.

And as long as these nights were shared with Keanu, you wouldn’t mind the heat at all.

[rymndsmth]

only angel

a/n: i truly don’t know what this is but i hope someone likes it! warnings for smoking and seks stuff.

It was almost time. 

All she could see in the distance were the lights in the city a ways away, but that would soon change. Sometimes she hated being a morning person, the way no matter what ungodly hour she fell asleep, her eyes would shoot awake at the crack of dawn. But then there was this. 

The dark sky became something of a thin curtain, hues of orange and yellow dancing behind it-like fire. Creeping from the bottom, the multicolored flame slowly engulfed the horizon. It burned hotter and brighter, melting from scarlet to blue, illuminating the landscape before it. Daytime. 

Her fingers sprinkled the grounded herb into the fold of the thin paper. She rolled, and licked to seal the joint shut. Between her lips it sat as she sparked the lighter, and pulled deep. The cloud she made floated up to join those above. 

A smile tugged at her lips at the fingers she felt running down the back of her neck. They moved to trace along the side, following the slope to her shoulder. On their way, they ran into the strap of her silk sleep top. No matter, it was simply pushed down until it dangled lazily like the blunt did from her mouth. 

Speaking of those, his had replaced the strap on the crest of her shoulder. Soft, warm, wet kisses were planted before he returned her to her original state. Ray’s arms circled her waist, pulling her into his bare chest. He rested his head atop hers. 

“Morning, love.” His voice reverberated through her entire body.

“A beautiful one, isn’t it?” She whispered, eyes still fixed on the view.

Ray hummed, taking the hand that held her smoke. He brought it up to his lips, taking her few hits before lowering it to hers where she did the same. If he was smoking this early it typically meant that he wasn’t in a hurry to leave the house. That was good; the flashbacks that ran through her mind from the night before were causing her to make a mess of her silk shorts already. 

“What’s the most important meal of the day, Raymond?” She stepped out of his hold, and spun around. Her feet carried her backwards in the direction of the outside sofa. 

He always looked absolutely gorgeous. No one could deny that with his extensive three piece suit collection. But this version of him was her favorite, because it was just that-her version. The one only she got to see, tousled hair, and sweatpants of all things. Never in her life had she even been so turned on by loungewear until being with him. 

“Mmm....” He tilted his head, advancing toward her.   

She stopped when the back of her calves hit the surface, and then her fingers pulled at the hem of her top. The fabric hit the wooden deck, and was soon joined by her shorts, both dismissed by one kick of her leg. She sank down to the chair, spreading her legs wide. Her lips pursed as she took another pull, smoke leaving through her nose. 

“I think the answer is,” Ray kneeled before her. “you.” 

If she had the time, she would’ve let out a chuckle at how corny they both were. He didn’t give her the chance though. His large hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her to hover just over the edge. With his hazel eyes locked onto her, he pressed an open mouth kiss to her pussy. 

Her back arched, a sudden sharp inhale filling her lungs with smoke. She let it out with a moan as his tongue darted out to part her folds. It traced a slow line up from her core to her clit, and swirled around and over the swollen bud. 

“Fuck.” She hissed. 

His fingers dug into the soft skin of her thighs as he buried himself deeper between them. Ray’s beard would leave behind a hell of a sting later on, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Not when he was flicking his tongue over her entrance like that. 

She rolled her hips up and down, grinding on his face in an effort to expel the pleasure that mounted in her lower stomach by the second. The weight of her head became too much, so that dropped back and then to the side to rest on her right shoulder. 

Her left hand raised to her lips to discard the joint after taking one last hit.  With a long smoke releasing exhale, she then thread her digits into his blond locks, pulling on them tightly as her pace increased. 

Ray kept at his ritual of teasing the source of her heat, running his wicked tongue around her clit, and sucking on it with his plump lips. The only time he fully pulled his face away was to give her a devilish look as he swirled her wetness around in his mouth and spat it back into her pussy. 

Her toes curled, feet dangerously close to cramping the more the tension built in her. She fucked his face harder, chest heaving with her struggling breaths. He didn’t let up. It was a relentless barrage, his jaw working over time to chase her across the finish line. 

“I’m-” She choked out, vision beginning to blur. 

“Go on, baby.” He murmured between her folds. 

And with a snap, she exploded. Her hips rocked violently as she came. Her legs tried to clap shut, but he held them open, continuing to eat her out through her orgasm. She cried and trembled, wave after wave wrecking her until her body went limp. 

“Good girl.” Ray kissed each of her thighs before standing and lifting her into his arms. 

She ran her thumb over his lips, surveying the mess she’d made in his facial hair. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and fed for real this time.”

[jj-lynn21]

Wedding Bells are going to chime

Saved by an Angel ,   A side of tits with your pancakes,   Fires Burn Hot , Spending the Nights, Learning and Loving,   The end id not always the end,  Axel Grease  ,  Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis,  Late night fun  ,  Old Wounds  ,  Storms pass   Dangerous Waters  ,  Nursing the patient    , Making it Work  ,  Never Have I Ever  The Masquerade, The Proposal  Emotional Turmoil, sneaking   ,  coming home,    Best Man, Wedding Bells are going to chime  , Wedding Bells have chimed (to be continued)  

@dragsraksllib @super-pink-a-palouza @loomiz @bill-owns-my-asss  @hornyhetero​   @taintedglass​ @grandpa-sweaters​,     @skarsgaard0 creechingexpertperfection

warnings: small bit of smut, angst

The evening before the wedding Axel is going down on Susie as she sits on the couch legs wide watching a comedy with him. She giggles from both his scruff and the show. Her hands grip his hair as he sucks on her clit pushing her over the edge of ecstasy. The doorbell rings.  

“Fuck.” Axel gets up from his knees. “I’m sorry Baby Girl. Pull your panties up. It is probably my Brother Eric.”

“I’m good.” She panted.

Axel slowly walked to the door giving Susie enough time to get settled. It was his brother standing there with his tailored tux in a garment bag and a few other things in a suitcase.

“Sorry if I interrupted.” Eric walked inside.

“We are just watching a comedy.” Axel sat by his girl putting his arm around her. “hang your tux in the hall closet. You can put your suitcase there also. Then join us.”

Susie laid her head down on Axel’s shoulder with a big sigh.

Axel took Susie’s hand to bring up to his lips for a kiss. “I'll make it up to you tomorrow night.” He whispered. “I promise.”

“You are always worth the wait.” She smiled.  

Alex came in to sit on the big comfy grey chair. “What Are you watching?”  

“We just finished watching The Interview.” Axel picked up controller handing it to Alex. “Guest chooses next but only for tonight or we can get the Xbox out?”

Susie kisses Axel’s cheek. “Excuse me gentlemen. I’m going to get ready for bed. Big day tomorrow.” She smiles at Eric. “Get rest groom to be.”  

Susie went to shower before bed. The men played Xbox for another hour or two. Susie felt so good when she felt Axel’s arms around her in their bed. That was all she needed to sleep until the morning sun streamed into the window. An automatic alarm for her to rise.

When Susie rises to make coffee for the boys, she makes shore to put on some shorts with Axel’s Tool shirt she wore to bed. She is extra quiet knowing Eric is on the fold out couch. Tami has already texted her to join the girls for breakfast before the late morning wedding. Susie text back to tell her she will be there on time.

Axel sits up as Susie is dressing in a light white dress with pink flowers blooming all over it. He  stretching and scrubs his face. “Where are you off to Babe? I thought we would have awhile before you desert us guys for the girls.”

“No such luck.” She turned to give him a small peck. “Bride and her maidens are having breakfast this morning. Make sure Eric eats a good breakfast. I will see you on the beach at 11am promptly.”

Axel stood pulling her into his arms for a better kiss. “I will take care of everything important. Eric will be there on time. I will make sure he is fed and looks his finest. I’m glad you are getting along with the girls.”

“Yeah, it is nice to be included around here.” She pulls away. “Even Jen is coming around. She is a little abrupt but...”

“I’ll talk to Josh.” Axel grimaced.

“You will do no such thing, Axel.” She points her finger at him. “I said she is coming around. Let’s let her get use to us a little more. Don’t bring your brother in because it just looks like his girlfriend still wants you and that is not okay. She is getting better so let me deal with her.”

He put his lips around your finger pulling back slow with a grin watching her eyes widen and breath quicken. “You better get going to breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes pulled her finger away. “You suck.”

“Indeed, and you love it when I do.” His grin was wide and mischievous. He smacked her ass as she turned to leave and followed her to the door. He watched her walk out the door down the sidewalk until she could no longer be seen. His thoughts went from how sexy her legs, ass and shoulders looked to, he should have offered to drive or maybe he should just buy her a car or her own motorcycle.  

Eric put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You should buy her a ring bro.”

Axel chuckled. “I was thinking her own motorcycle. I’ll make you a big breakfast. I already smell coffee. Did you start that?”

“No, that’s all your girl’s doing.” Eric stepped back inside with his cup of coffee. “She made it strong. Just like I like.”

“That is how I take it to.” Axel went to get a cup. “Go shower while I make breakfast. You smell like ass. Does your girl know she is marrying a guy that smells like ass in the morning?”

“She does.” Eric laughed. “But somehow she is fine with how I smell at any time of day. I will go shower if it is the only way I get a good breakfast.”

“It is.” Axel joked as he got everything he needed together.

“I don’t think you ever made my breakfast little brother.” Eric thought fondly on memories of taking care of Axel and Josh.

“And this is the only time.” Axel quipped. “Now go shower stinky butt.”

Eric started to go towards the bathroom. “You always called me that growing up.”

Axel continued making a huge breakfast. When Eric was finished with his shower, he could smell the bacon and sausage. When he came out in his boxers, he saw a feast of not only the above but pancakes, eggs and hash browns. Orange juice was set out and two coffee pots were brewing fresh coffee.  

“I don’t think we should be drinking or eating that much, Axel.” Eric sat down and started dishing up a plate.

“The other men are on their way to get dressed here since my place is the closest to the beach.” Axel poured Eric fresh coffee. “You have any confessions between us before they ascend on the place?”

“What are you, my priest now?” Eric folded some sausage links into his buttered toast.  

Axel laughed. “No, I just meant if you have any reservation I can listen and tell you not to be a dumbass.”

“Great advice.” The noise of vehicles driving up were heard outside. “Don’t be a dumbass. Haven’t I told you that?”

“On many occasions brother.” Axel went to the door to let the groomsmen inside. “I made breakfast for everyone.”

“Is it edible?” Josh joked.  

“It’s the best shit I have had from a home kitchen.” Eric piped up.  

Josh smirked as the others started grubbing. “We will see about that.”

All the men were eating their fill complimenting their chef. While that was happening, Susie was arriving at Tami and Eric’s place. A nice two-story beach house. Two bedrooms upstairs. A guest room on the first floor where Tami’s soon to be Mother-in-law, Rebeca, was staying while she was in town. The first thing Susie noticed was the disgusted look on Rebeca’s face as the other girls were fluttering around excitedly setting out crapes, croissants and pastries for breakfast.  “How can I help.” Susie smiled hanging her dress in a portable closet in the living room where the others had hung their dresses.

“Susie.” Tami came to her hugging her a hello. “How are the boys doing this morning? Is Eric nervous? I have good butterflies in my stomach.”

“Of course, he is worried about marrying you dear.” Rebecca rolled her eyes like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Susie ignored her comment. “Eric is very excited to marry you. It is your turn to be happily ever after.” She held Tami’s hands while assuring her.

“Oh, please.” Rebecca mumbled pouring herself another drink from the bar.

“You are next.” Tami laughed. “I think we are already so let’s have some breakfast.”

Susie sipped some coffee and had a little of each treat. “Axel was making breakfast for the men when I left. I think he planned to make everything to appease them.” She giggled.

“You did not make them a proper meal?” Rebecca droned. “I gather you are his current person, so I am surprised he doesn’t expect you to wait on him and bow to what he needs all the time. It has to be exhausting.”

“He was eight when he needed a Mother to take care of his needs.” Susie glared at Rebecca. “Luckily his Father taught him how to be a self-sufficient man despite your lack of love.”

“God he was so clingy.” She added like she had not even heard Susie’s comments or noticed how quiet the room got.

“He was eight.” Susie reiterated. “I’m sorry Tami excuse me for a few.” Susie went outside to cool down, so she didn’t deck the women.

Unfortunately, the woman followed soon after lighting a smoke as soon as she stepped into the cool morning air. Susie tried to ignore her choosing to look out at the surf.

“I can’t believe he would marry someone like her.” Rebeca spit like it tasted bad in her mouth.

“Like what?” Susie knew she was referring to Eric’s Bride-to-Be not being white, but Susie wanted to hear if she would admit her hate. “A waitress?”

Rebeca rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. She isn’t like you and I.”

Susie tilted her head. “I disagree. I think you are the only one without a soul.” She walked back inside with a big, pleased smile on her face.

“Oh good.” Tami said as you walked back inside. “She apologized? She is a little abrasive, but Eric is so happy she is here to support him. And I am happy he is happy. We just need to take a breath a few more hours. She is leaving tomorrow morning.”

[walkingshcdow-a]

Title: A Walk in the Garden Summary: Stolas and his Father walk in a garden paradise once more. AU Notes: This is for an AU I’m writing with @mytisanes. In it, Stolas, Blitzo, their children, and Moxxie and Millie are posing as humans in a sort of “Witness Protection Program”. Stolas and Blitzo are “married” and I love everything about this AU. Please note, according to Stolas’ page on the HB wiki, he’s a fallen angel.

They walk together through the garden, father and son. It’s been a while since you could see the resemblance but today it’s clear the father must have had the same dark hair in his youth, the same blue eyes. After all, his children are all in his image.

Stolas folds his hands behind his back to resist the urge to touch. It’s been so long and he wants to know that this is real, that he isn’t baked out of his mind with Loona, celebrating the end of exams for them both. The ground beneath him is soft; the grass springy under bare feet. Maybe this is real. It’s quieter than usual, mid-morning. He looks around for Blitzo or Octavia or Loona; even for Millie and Moxxie next door. He and his father could be alone in the neighborhood, in all the world, for all he can tell. Stolas walks with his father at a leisurely pace and every so often they stop and he tells him a little about the story of how the vegetable garden was started for a project for Octavia’s school or how Loona kept him company with merciless teasing as her snipped roses for Blitzo or how, when he’d come down with the flu, Blitzo and Moxxie and Millie all pitched in to keep the garden flourishing without his constant attentions. He strokes his Demonic Flytrap, which he smuggled seeds from Hell to Earth because he’d developed this subspecies himself. His father says nothing and smiles, hard to read. Stolas gets that from him. It’s a trick he learned in his youth, how to smile without revealing what kind of smile it is. It terrifies him to see his father make such a face. He gestures to the deck, the one that Blitzo insisted on building and only let him help to build because Millie had been too pregnant to help and the girls had homework and he would have rather put up with Stolas’ chipper questions than Moxxie’s because at least Stolas’ came with compliments and other things you didn’t tell your father, even if he was omniscient...

“It was a spectacular weekend,” he tells his father. “Just the two of us, making a home of this  place. The girls are begging us for a pool next. We might say yes, but we haven’t given in just yet. It’s hard to deny them anything.”

“It’s always hard to say “no”,” his father says. “You’ve set good boundaries with the girls. I wish I’d set better ones with you and your siblings.”

Stolas blinks and then his eyes narrow. He didn’t expect such candor, so quickly and he doesn’t trust it. Stella used to set traps like this for him, before the fighting lost any veneer of civility. He used to fall for it nearly every time, trusting in her love for him, like a fool. Why trust his father’s love now?

“You set very firm boundaries, Father,” he says. “I can’t imagine what a ‘better’ boundary would have looked like.”

“Clearer,” his father amends. “I wish you all had understood that I didn’t stop loving you just because I told you “no”.”

“I think I understand that now,” Stolas says. He flexes his wings, which he has not worn in thousands of years. They ache with atrophy, trembling a little as he stretches. Will they carry him if he tries to fly? For how long? Will Via have hers, too? Would she have had them anyway, even if they hadn’t ended up here? He imagines her flying and imagines all his panicked rules for safety if and when that happened, smiling sheepishly. “Being a parent grants you a certain perspective.”

“Some of your brothers are parents now, too,” his father says. “It doesn’t guarantee understanding.”

“Yes, well, Luci’s always been a bit stubborn. There’s a reason he reigns over the ring of pride.”

“You didn’t claim a ring for yourself.”

Stolas shrugs. It had been a wise choice on his part - to have some of the power and some of the glory without all of the responsibility and all of the corruption. He wishes he could say it was foresight. He remembers Stella’s ire when he chose the grimoire over a ring of Hell as his spoils of war. You could have been so much more, you pathetic piece of-

“I preferred my freedom,” he says. “I wanted to study....Science, magic, all of creation. Even during the war, I didn’t want to fight. I wanted… this.”

He looks around his garden and sees a set of four bicycles leaned against the siding, shoes scattered by the glass sliding door, the giant plastic recycling bin Blitzo sometimes leaned him over when they wanted to show off for the neighbors. How does he tell his father that this life he’s made is better than anything even the Lord of all creation could have given him?

“You couldn’t have had it in Heaven.”

It’s a statement of fact, but Stolas dares to peer into his father’s face. There’s an ounce of regret in his eyes, making them shine with unshed tears. He will not get an apology. He’s too old and too content to want one, but he tries to cast his memory back to streets of light. What place did a muddy garden have there? And what place did something so alive and lovely have in Imp City?

“I couldn’t have had it in Hell, either,” Stolas says, shrugging. “I suppose I’ve always envied humans. Their lives are brief, but they’re theirs. They live to their accord and they love, my word, do they love as deeply and freely as they choose.”

“You weren’t always unhappy with the choice made for you.”

“No, but matches made in Heaven don’t fare so well in Hell.” A pause. “Why is it that a match made in Hell works as well as mine and Blitzy’s does?”

His father stops walking and sighs slowly, steadily. He looks at Stolas, who only cocks his head.

“Love works in mysterious ways,” his father says.

“So do you.”

“My son, I am more knowable than the power of love. You’ve seen the cosmos: is love common? Does it fit neatly into the sciences you so love?”

Stolas is quiet.

“You won’t take me from him now that....” He lifts his wings feebly. “Or Octavia or Loona or... “

His father puts a hand to his shoulder and it calms Stolas quickly. It quiets him, at least, and that’s something that Blitzo would tell anyone who asked (or didn’t ask) was a challenge not for the faint of heart.

“I will grant you eternity with them.”

“Here?”

“If you wish it.”

Stolas ponders. He thinks of his palace with its hundreds of rooms and how much closer this little house has brought them. He imagines Loona bossing servants around, Octavia searching familiar walls to find unfamiliar portraits, Blitzo picking fights at royal balls or dodging unwanted glances, burning his first marriage bed even though it’s also the first place he made love to Blitzo, too, and trying to convince all of Hell that they were really a happy, blended family, even if his ex-wife tried to kill him for it. He isn’t a half-bad speechmaker. Maybe he can say something to keep the peace, but the other Goetia will not love his family as he does. There would be whispers at best; more assassins at worst. Blitzo deserves to relax enough to take only jobs he wants, not ones he has to take. And the girls… they deserve the world, even if the world is a muddy garden and a little house in the suburbs.

“We cannot return to Hell.”

“No.”

“And your angels won’t welcome Blitzo and Loona into Heaven.”

Stolas’ father winces.

“Nor you. Their union has spoken to me about fears that reformed princes might reclaim their thrones.”

“And if I wanted my throne? And used that power to demand all Heaven accept my husband and daughters?”

“Could you have done such a thing in Hell?”

Again, Stolas is silent, a resounding no.

“Things are going to change,” his father said. “In time. Lucifer’s daughter has a project in Hell that will do great things for people of all realms.”

“That half-way house?” Stolas makes a skeptical sound. His father shoots him a look.

“I am as proud of Charlie as I am of Octavia,” he says sternly enough to kill Stolas’ laughter. “Your niece will do great things and you and your family is a shining example of what is possible for angels and demons, what might come next.”

“I have so many questions-”

And that is when the beach ball hits Stolas squarely in the nose. He opens his eyes to find himself lying in one of the deck chairs above the garden, book open across his chest.

His father is gone.

“Nice shot!” Loona says, bumping Octavia’s shoulder.

“Dad,” Octavia says Stolas groggily sits up. That hadn’t felt like a dream and yet… “Blitzo says the pool company is coming to measure the yard in fifteen minutes.”

“I thought Blitzo and I told you no to the pool…”

The girls exchange  glances that say one thing very clearly: ‘Oh, shit’ before dashing around the side of the house. Stolas doesn’t know which of them had called the pool company or how much they had promised to pay, but as he shuffles to his feet, he tries to grab onto the dream as something real once more, wiggling his shoulders in search of the weight of wings. He could have sworn he feels something when he hears Blitzo yell from the front of the house: “Who the fuck called the pool company?!?”

He smiles before going inside. Maybe this is what paradise is, massaging your husband’s shoulders as he curses out the pool company you didn’t contract while saying, “Oh, Blitzy, we did say maybe…. We should have set clearer boundaries with them… but since they took the liberty.... It will do wonders for the resale value of this place and I do so enjoy the sight of you in a bathing suit...”

Yes, maybe this is paradise - the paradise they deserve at any rate, and, my, what a wonderful thing to deserve…!

[rosemakh]

The Bad Game

[Blurb: An innocent game of mini-golf takes a sinister turn when a family friend demands that Naomi make good on her bet. This deep betrayal leads to an impossible choice.]

[Author’s note: I wrote this in 2020. It’s loosely based on true events, as recounted by a friend of mine. This story is a tragic family drama. It deals with emotional abuse, manipulation, substance abuse, and other things that might trigger some readers (like most of my stories!)]

The driving lesson was over, so Naomi parked the old van and turned off the ignition.

"That was good, sweetie," Pastor Rob congratulated her from the passenger's seat, "You'll be able to get your license soon, for sure!"

Naomi shook her head and smiled sheepishly, "Maybe in a month."

They climbed out of the vehicle to stretch their legs and switch seats. Naomi hopped in and fastened her seat belt while Rob slid the driver's seat back. She giggled at some birds squabbling in the grass as he lowered his weighty girth into the van.

"How about some mini-golf?" He said, rather suddenly.

Naomi liked the game but she was tired. She'd been driving all morning and still had a pile of chores to do at home. She was also tired of being under the pastor's leering gaze. Spending the rest of the day with him -- followed by a Sunday of volunteering at his tiny church -- wasn't her idea of fun but he'd been kind enough to give her driving lessons when nobody else would. She was grateful to him, so she agreed to go.

On the way to the mini-golf park, Rob said, "How about a bet, this time?"

They'd played before but never with a wager. It seemed a little strange to Naomi, so she asked, "Like what?"

Rob kept his eyes on the road, "We'll play one round. If you win, I'll do any one thing you want and if I win, you'll do any one thing I want."

Coming from any other man, this kind of proposal would have alarmed her. But this man was like a grandfather to her. They'd known each other for years. He helped her family. He was goofy, humble, and generous. She trusted him.

She looked at him and nodded, "Yeah, okay! You'll probably just force me to go to lunch with you again or somethin', right?"

They both laughed.

They drove the rest of the way in silence with Elvis Presley crooning on the radio.

***

Naomi was usually pretty good at mini-golf but that day, she missed every shot. She almost felt as if an unseen force was affecting her game. Rob, on the other hand, was on a roll, banking his bright blue golf ball around plastic gnomes as if by magic and landing holes-in-one at both the lighthouse and crocodile lake. In dozens of games, she'd never seen him play so well and she'd never played so poorly.

As the game progressed, it became clear that she would lose the bet. A faint foreboding bloomed within her. She pushed it down and continued playing but by the end of the game, she'd lost by a huge margin. While they turned in their rented putters and balls, then made their way back to the van, Rob's face grew progressively pinched and dark.

Naomi sat in the front passenger's seat and fastened her seat belt. The edge seemed unusually sharp, digging into her neck as if trying to cut her. The earlier sense of foreboding bloomed again.

Rob yanked his door open, squeezed behind the wheel, mopped his sweaty forehead with one of his tree-trunk arms, and backed out of the parking space. A few feet ahead, a small gaggle of giggling women were crossing the lane. Rob, mouth gaping and eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, moved his head to openly gawk at them in their tiny shorts and tank tops. Naomi was used to him doing that but, for some reason, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the car door. She watched his lecherous behavior out of the corner of her eye. He didn't detach his eyes from the ladies' bodies until they'd all piled into their car.

***

Rob pulled out onto the highway and stopped at a red traffic light. He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead for a moment. A dangerous mood emanated from him.

Without looking at her, he grunted, "If I was the Mafia, you'd be in a lot of trouble right now."

Over the years, she'd seen him behave erratically. Sometimes his sermons would devolve into tales of bloody warfare, domestic abuse, and sexual assault. She knew the man had demons to fight but now it seemed he was about to use one on her. To prevent upsetting him, she didn't speak, but merely pressed herself hard against the door and looked away as the van accelerated.

He took a deep breath as if preparing to make an important announcement.

"Naomi," he said, "God showed me something last night. I was riding my bicycle like I do every night, and I looked up and saw you in the moon."

He sounded awestruck as if he'd witnessed a miracle.

"You were floating in the big full moon, wearing the most beautiful silver dress and slippers. Your hair was blowing all around you. You looked like an angel, just for me. I watched you and you smiled so sweetly, with so much love. And you reached your hands out to me and your dress blew and you were so beautiful. You stayed with me like that until I got back home."

Naomi couldn't think of anything to say. She continued looking out the window and prayed to God for safety.

When Rob parked in his driveway, Naomi had to will herself to move. She peeled herself from the door and opened it carefully. She wanted to run next door and call the police but slowly followed him into the big house, instead.

"Is your wife home?" She managed to ask as he swung the front door open.

"She's at Dorothy's piano recital at the college. They'll be gone for hours."

He led her through the cozy living room, past wholesome family pictures and walls filled with Christian crosses. Finely-crafted angel figurines looked on from shelves and tabletops as they passed. A desk in the corner housed a huge Bible, its pages edged with gold.

Rob positioned one dining chair so that it faced toward the backyard garden, then motioned for her to enter the tiny dining room and sit. She could see his wife's award-winning roses through the sliding glass door. Their yard was carpeted with soft, well-manicured grass. A set of cute lawn furniture sat on one side of the deck, overlooking a small swimming pool.

The dining chair didn't have arms, so Naomi awkwardly placed her hands in her lap. Rob suddenly stood in front of her, looming over her and blocking out the sun like a massive obelisk. To avoid his eyes, she stared at her hands.

His voice sounded above her, "I know you're a woman of God, so you'll honor your vow."

Barely a few inches in front of her, he knelt and pulled a ring box from his pants pocket. She stared at the box, praying it wasn't what she suspected. But it was. With bloated, hairy fingers, he flipped the top open to reveal a simple wedding ring. The gold-colored ring was etched with a diamond pattern to make it look like a normal ring but Naomi understood. Feeling as if she was in imminent danger, Naomi clenched her knees together tightly and thanked God she'd decided to wear jeans instead of a skirt.

He fixed his veiny bug eyes on her, "My sweetie, I've wanted to marry you since we first met when you were 14. These four years have been the happiest of my life. I know you feel the same way. God has shown me that you do."

Naomi tried rationalizing with him, "But you're already married. How will that work?"

He leaned toward her and his big belly pressed against her shins. He looked into her face like a lying boy that desperately wanted to be believed, "I've told you about that. It's basically an arranged marriage. I was 35 and our families put us together. We never loved each other."

"But it's a sin to violate your marriage vows. Besides, I don't feel that way about you, Pastor."

"But I know you do, sweetie," he nodded his head repeatedly, "God told me."

She shook her head furiously, "No!"

"It's okay, sweetie. Don't be afraid."

His fat belly pressed harder against her shins. The fleshy sensation made her feel sick, "You're old enough to be my father. Your daughter's older than me! It wouldn't work, I'm tellin' you!"

He continued, searching for ways to convince her, "And--and I know you don't want children so I got a vasectomy so you don't have to worry about that."

"Oh, God!" Naomi couldn't hold herself together anymore. Terrified, all she could do was tuck her head into her shoulder and sob.

"Sweetie--" He briefly touched her hand.

As if she'd been burned, Naomi drew her hands up to her chest.

He craned his blubbery neck to look into her face, "What's the matter, sweetie? Everything's okay. Haven't I proved that I care about you?"

He put one massive hand on her knee. Instinctively, she gasped and clenched her knees together tighter. She looked at the ceiling, gulping back sobs and biting her lip.

He placed the other hand on her lap, still holding the ring box, "Haven't I helped your family for the past four years. With your mom not working, what would you guys have done without me?"

She managed to choke out, "I appreciate everything you've done for us--" between sobs but couldn't continue.

"Oh, sweetie," His voice was tender as if speaking to a lover, "Don't cry. I know it's a big change," He waited a few moments for her to calm down but she was far too upset, "You're overwhelmed, my love. I'm sorry. I'll take you home now. Let's talk about this tomorrow after church."

Relieved to have a way out of the situation, she nodded shakily, "Tomorrow."

***

She'd managed to pull herself together and look somewhat normal by the time he pulled into her family's driveway. She scrambled out as soon as the van stopped.

Before she closed the door, he said, "I'll pick you up for church tomorrow, sweetie," and blew her a kiss.

She shut the door and willed her shaky legs to carry her up the cracked concrete walkway and into her family's shabby home.

She stepped into the living room in its usual state: Toys and dirty clothes littered the floor; Bowls of half-eaten cereal sat in small collections upon the tables; A sticky spill had congealed under the coffee table, next to the overturned cup that once held it.

She called to her young sisters, "Nancy, Nellie! Come clean up after yourselves, please!"

Nancy, 12, and Nellie, 5, stalked out of their room with mock annoyance. They glared at Naomi, stuck out their tongues, then collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Cut it out, silly girls," Naomi said as she walked to the kitchen.

Their mother staggered out of the master bedroom and down the hall. She walked past Naomi without a word, opened the cabinet above the sink, and retrieved a large bottle of sleeping pills.

"Hi, Mom," Naomi said gently.

Her mother merely glanced at her, then opened the bottle. She moved almost robotically as if the effort of moving required all of her concentration and energy. She dropped three pills into her hand and swallowed them with a cold cup of coffee that was sitting on the counter.

"Are you okay, mom?" Naomi asked.

Naomi's mother turned to face her, "Never," and looked her up and down, "Look at you. You're so lucky. You don't have three mouths to feed."

Naomi stayed stone-faced and silent. Her mother said this often. The first time it happened, Naomi had made the mistake of talking back. She refused to make that mistake again.

With a surprising amount of force, her mother threw the open pill bottle against the sink's backsplash. Cloud-blue pills erupted from the bottle and fell haphazardly into the dirty dishes in the sink. A few landed in water and fizzed, creating bubbling islands of blue foam.

"I'm goin' to bed," her mother grunted.

Nellie, the youngest, peeked her head around the kitchen wall and held her toy bunny to her chin, "But Momma, you were in bed all day."

Their mother bent down and stroked Nellie's chubby face with a tenderness Naomi had not received from her in years, "Momma's tired, baby. Mommies get tired."

She stood up and snapped at Naomi, "Clean this place up!" then disappeared down the hall.

After their mother closed her door, Nancy strutted in and put a small pile of dirty cereal bowls on the kitchen table, "Where have you been all day, by the way? We've been stuck here with Mom and you've been out havin' fun!"

Naomi placed the bowls in the sink, "Believe me, nobody in this family is havin' fun."

Nancy took hold of her younger sister's hand, "Come on, Nellie, let's watch a movie while we wait for Naomi's crappy dinner."

"I like her crappy dinners," Nellie replied as they climbed onto the sofa.

"Oh, shut up, Nellie."

Overhearing the exchange from the kitchen, Naomi chuckled.

While preparing dinner, Naomi prayed for guidance. The thought of seeing Rob again made her feel sick, so she leaned over the sink for a few moments until the nausea subsided. Her mind raced with possibilities and none of them were good. If they stopped attending his church, she'd have to get a job. But she was just about to enter her last year of high school. If she quit school to work full-time, they'd probably never get out of poverty. On the other hand, if she stayed in high school and worked part-time, her sisters wouldn't have anyone to take care of them. Their mother was in no state to look after anybody and the girls were too young to take care of themselves all the time. She watched the pasta boiling on the stove. It roiled and raged like the thoughts in her head.

By the time dinner was ready, she had decided to turn him down and leave his church. She had no plan beyond that but she continued to pray and search for a solution.

***

Rob pulled into the driveway bright and early on Sunday morning. It was the sisters' responsibility to set up the church room in Rob's rundown beachside inn, so they had to get there before everyone else.

"Howdy-ho, kidderoos!" Rob greeted the girls as they headed towards the van.

Naomi checked to make sure the top button of her high-collar dress was done up and raised her hem slightly to keep it from dragging through the dew-covered grass. She picked up Nellie and strapped her into the front passenger's seat, then climbed into the farthest row of seats in the back.

Rob was watching in the rearview mirror, "You can sit up here with me, Naomi!"

"Nuh-uh! She said I can, Mr. Rob!" Nellie protested.

Beaming, Nancy spread her drawing books and art supplies across the middle row of seats and said proudly, "Oh, Yeah! So roomy! This must be what it's like not havin' any sisters! We should sit this way all the time."

"Well, that settles that," Naomi said as she pulled the van's sliding door shut.

He drove through the neighborhood slowly, glancing at the rearview mirror every few seconds, "Are you sure you don't want to sit up front, Naomi? Sitting next to the driver is great driving practice."

Naomi didn't take her eyes off her book, "No thank you. I promised Nellie she could sit there."

"What if you drive, instead, and I sit next to you?"

Nancy piped up, "No way. I don't wanna die today!"

All four of them burst into laughter.

Rob dropped the subject but repeatedly flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror during the 30-minute trip. Eventually, Naomi placed her backpack in her lap in an attempt to hide her chest from his searing glances.

***

The ramshackle inn was a place of refuge where vagabonds and penny-pinching tourists could enjoy a room on the beach for next-to-nothing. Rob did all the repairs himself but, unlike Jesus, he wasn't much of a carpenter. The floors were lumpy, sagging, and did nothing to muffle the sounds of footsteps. The paint was flaking in various places both inside and outside the building, and the bare, wooden staircases wobbled and creaked. It was a humble place for humble people.

Naomi and her sisters ascended the stairs into the common room and got to work converting the tiny space into a functioning chapel.

***

That Sunday's service was no different from any other. Pastor Rob led with a spirited, yet incoherent, opening message, which seemed to be nothing more than a collection of random Bible quotes from a desktop calendar. After the opening, he jumped straight into an equally spirited sermon about men and women and all the sex passages in the Bible. Although he didn't look at her, Naomi knew who he'd written that sermon for.

He spoke with fire and the attendees responded in kind, yelling "Preach!" and "Amen, brother!" at random intervals.

Two young women came out of an adjoining room and sat together on one side of the small space. They were dressed in tiny jean shorts and string bikini tops. Pastor Rob seemed unable to keep himself from glancing at them every two seconds to ogle their exposed flesh.

After the service, the pastor mingled with the attendees. None of the smiling people shaking Rob's hand were aware of Saturday's events and no one -- maybe not even the man himself -- knew what he was going to do when he got Naomi alone again. The spongy floor shook with each of Rob's massive steps as he traveled through the cheerful crowd. Naomi felt the vibrations in her core, like a war drum signaling impending doom.

***

Just after Noon, he pulled the van up to the girls' house. Nancy and Nellie got out and said their goodbyes.

Naomi made her way to the front passenger seat.

"We're off to do more driving lessons!" Rob explained to the younger girls.

He waited until the sisters were safely inside the house, then drove to a nearby playground. He pulled into an unpaved parking space facing the park, where some families were enjoying the mild weather and fresh air. Naomi was grateful to have other people around.

The pastor turned off the van and gripped the steering wheel so hard his pudgy knuckles turned white. They both stared silently into the park for a while.

Suddenly, without looking at her, he asked, "Are you playing with me?" and continued staring ahead, awaiting her answer.

Naomi gathered her courage and calmly replied, "No."

She looked at him. A sick red color was creeping up his neck. She had to get this over quickly, "I thought about it and I'm sorry but I don't feel that way about you. You're like a grandfather to me."

He growled a reply through clenched teeth, "How could you say that?" And looked at her from the corner of his eye, "You've been flirting with me for years."

Naomi couldn't believe he was the same man who'd been laughing it up on the beach just an hour ago, "What?!"

He unclenched his jaw but the edge in his voice remained, "We've played tag on the beach--"

"Only with my sisters!"

"We kissed in the back seat of this van."

Naomi scoffed, trying to hide her panic, "I got back there with you because you asked. I didn't know you were goin' to kiss me!"

Rob finally looked at her and erupted, "Why else would I ask you to join me in a back seat!"

She had accidentally sent him into a rage, possibly putting herself in physical danger, but she could no longer control her actions. The deep feelings of betrayal, disgust, and fear were too overwhelming.

She yelled in his face, "Why would you think I wanted to kiss you?"

Rob immediately lowered his voice -- a so-called psychological tactic he loved to use when things got heated, "You told me you were saving yourself for marriage."

Naomi yelled again, "I told you that as my pastor!"

He spoke slowly, "You also told me you felt uncomfortable about your strong sexual desires."

"I thought I could confide in you!"

He removed his hands from the steering wheel and turned his body toward her. Looking deep into her eyes, he spoke gently, "I know you're a godly woman. With me, you won't have to worry about anything. I promise I'll never hurt you. You can explore your desires with me safely. No diseases. No pregnancy. And I'll take care of you, your mom, and your sisters."

Naomi couldn't believe what she was hearing, "You're tryin' to bribe me with my family?"

"It'll be a sacred union."

"You're already married, Rob!"

"It's okay," He spoke to her as if talking to an upset child, "We'll keep it a secret. Nobody has to get hurt. God's chosen few have always been misunderstood. We both know nobody will understand our love."

She screamed at the top of her lungs, "We don't have a love! How could you? I trusted you!" She smashed her fist against the dashboard, "You and no one else! And you'd do this to me? Were you doin' this all along?"

Rob maintained a steady, soothing tone, "I didn't do anything. It's God's plan, my love."

"SHUT UP!"

Naomi's hands were shaking so badly, she barely managed to undo her seat belt. She reached for the car door handle.

Rob raised his voice slightly and scolded her, "You promised me! You're not a liar!"

Her anger spent, tears ran down Naomi's cheeks as she looked him straight in his eyes.

Her voice shook as she said, "I think Jesus will forgive me for this one."

She shoved the door open, got out, then slammed it shut with a frustrated roar. Startled people in the park, who'd heard them yelling, stared at her. Avoiding their gazes, she angrily walked away.

She'd traveled several feet before Rob finished hauling his heft out of the vehicle. He called to her, "Did you buy your sisters' school supplies yet?"

She stopped on the spot.

"Or your mom's medicine?"

She lowered her head, tears cascading down her face. Her entire body shook as she clenched and unclenched her fists. A swarm of dark possibilities swirled in her mind.

A child's scream and laughter yanked her back into reality. Instinctively, she looked in the direction of the sound. The squealing toddler was being pushed on a swing by his smiling dad. Mom looked on, laughing loudly.

Naomi stared at the happy family. Memories of carefree days floated up from the depths of her mind. She could feel Rob's eyes on her.

Without looking at him, she walked back to the van, threw herself into the seat, slammed the door, and waited. After a moment, Rob squeezed behind the steering wheel, watching her. Without a glance or a word, she pulled the musty seat belt across her body and fastened it with a heavy click. It pressed against her chest and lap, pinning her to the seat. She folded her hands in her lap in a failed attempt to keep them from shaking.

She stared at the horizon, blinking away hot tears and taking measured breaths. Aware of Rob's gaze, she pressed against the car seat and bit her lip hard. Her body shook with adrenaline and terror.

Rob continued to stare at her as he started the van. He seemed to be savoring the moment as he raked his hungry eyes up and down her body.

***

The pastor sat the last grocery bag on the kitchen table.

He checked to make sure nobody else was around, then pulled Naomi close for a quick kiss on the lips, "See you Saturday, my love."

He headed out the door. She bent over the sink and washed her mouth out with dish soap.

She dried her face as Nancy came around the corner.

"Was that Pastor Rob?"

Naomi nodded.

A mischievous smile crept across Nancy's face, "Gee, I'm sure glad you two didn't die in your drivin' lesson!"

Naomi was too numb to even pretend to laugh but she forced herself to smile as sweetly as she could at her silly little sister, "That was funny, Nancy."

"Duh!"

Naomi pulled an ice cream cake from one of the grocery bags, "Look what I've got."

Nellie appeared in the doorway, curious. Naomi knelt so the kids could get a better look.

Nancy gasped, "Wow! Are we celebratin' somethin'?"

Naomi forced a warm smile for her sisters, "Yes. We're celebratin' how much I love you."

Just out of sight, their mother muttered, "Bring me some o' that to my room, Nancy," then shuffled back down the hall.

"Oh, Momma likes it, too!" Nellie said, "Thanks, Naomi!"

Nancy pulled a plate from the dish rack, "Yeah, I guess you're okay, sometimes."

At that, the three of them stuck their tongues out at each other playfully.

Naomi turned and placed the ice cream cake on the kitchen table. The golden ring on her left middle finger caught Nellie's eye.

Nellie pulled Naomi's hand to her own face so she could get a better look, "That ring's fancy! I like the diamond shapes. Did it cost a lot?"

Naomi briefly flashed a smile, "Yes, it cost me a whole lot."

"I won't tell, but Momma might get mad if she finds out."

Naomi gently pulled her hand free and stroked her precious little sister's hair, "I think you're right, honey. I bet she would."